ninanevermore

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Today on my drive into work, I was thinking about The Wiggles. For those of you without a preschooler, The Wiggles are 4 Australian guys who are rock stars for the 5 and under set. They sing, they dance, they wear silly clothes, and the travel the world and put on concerts for their tiny fans and their parents (since the fans can't drive themselves to the shows).

The first time I saw these guys on TV, I wondered what would possess a grown man to decide that this was a great way to make a living. Even guys who kind of like other peoples' children only like them so much. Then, listening to the radio one morning, I learned the real reason they do what they do: they're in it for the MILFs.*

A local morning radio show has a segment where listeners called in to talk about any encounters they'd had with celebrities. One particular morning, they wanted to know if anyone had ever "hooked up" with a famous person.

"I made out with a Wiggle!" one young female caller gushed. She worked for a toy distributor and met what she described as "a hot guy with a cute Australian accent" at a trade show. Not having children herself, she didn't even realize who he was, but they snuck off and canoodled off and on all day.

"Is that all you did?" the DJ asked.

"Yeah. He was pushing for more, but, you know, we'd just met and all that. I mean, I thought about it. But I didn't know who he was at the time." She ended the call by saying that if she'd known he was a Wiggle, he probably could have cinched the deal. Apparently, fame is an aphrodisiac for some people, even if the person is only famous to preschoolers and their parents.

I went home that night and told Jeff about what I'd heard on the radio.

"It explains why these otherwise normal looking guys wear stupid clothes, play with a giant stuffed octopus, and sing songs about hot potatoes and cold spaghetti," I told my husband, "MILFs! Think about it: their prime audience is small children, who tend to have young mothers, and how do young women become mothers? By putting out! It makes perfect sense."

"Wow," Jeff said, "That's ingenious! I wish I'd thought about it when I was younger."

"They tour the world, they play major arenas in big cities, and they don't have to call the next day because she knows he was only in town for a gig. Those dogs, I bet they each have a MILF in every town."

"I wonder," Jeff mused, "If it's too late for me to make a career change?"

"It is," I told him. "At your age, you wouldn't get MILFs, you'd get their mothers. Besides, you can't sing or dance."

"You've got a point," said Jeff, "Nuts."

"You'll just have to stick with the MILF you've got at home," I told him.

"That's okay. She's my favorite one, anyways."

I leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "Sing me a song about hot potatoes and cold spaghetti, and maybe I'll let you have your way with me."

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* In case you are from anther plant or live in a monastery, M.I.L.F. stands for Mother's I'd Like to F…uhm…you know.