This previous weekend I went to the Phoenix Film Festival to watch some great independent films and prepare for a trip that I had coming up. On Friday night the feature showing was “Blind Dating” a romantic comedy which Jane Seymour’s husband directed. Seymour also had a small part in the movie and served as an executive producer on the film. It was a so-so film but who really cares how the film was, the chemistry between Jane and I is where the real interest lies.
Before the showing of the film Jane was out in the festival tent meeting some of the festival goers. I was talking to my friend Vinnie (his name has been changed to protect him from any type of association with me) and I were talking and cracking jokes about the situation. We kept cracking jokes about how I should walk up and hit on her saying things that were totally stupid like:
“Do you know who I am? I blog on myspace.”
“I loved you in Dr. Quinn.”
“I bet you never get asked this but can you say ‘kitty kat’?”
Personally I was ready to reveal to her the infamous “Sit on My Face” song that my friend Jef(f) used to sing when we were in eighth grade. The lyrics go like this:
“Come on baby
and sit on my face.
Don’t like the smell
but I love the taste.”
I would have put money on the fact that her legs would have parted like the red sea and I would have had to screw her on the silent auction table, with her husband watching a mere six feet away.
I decided though to play hard to get, because that is just how I do it.
Vinnie and I headed into the screening and took our seats, as the theater began to fill up Jane and her husband entered. They were mingling with the people coming in and Jane turned towards our section of the theater. For about ten seconds she looked not only into my eyes but into my soul. She then proceeded to have eye sex with me and not missionary eye sex… It was anal eye sex, the most dirty eye sex one can have.
Of course I think she was talking to some friends a few rows ahead of me and was possibly not making direct eye contact with me, but really that isn’t important in the grand scheme of things. What is important is that in my head Jane Seymour wanted to break off a piece of the Kevster and next time our paths cross I am going to wear her ass as a hat.
Just out of curiosity do you think I have a shot and do you think Jane Seymour takes it in the dumper?