Weathercaster Love

So the Whatever and I got up this morning after an eventful evening. I turned on the TV while he was in the shower. I waited with baited breath for the Today show to go to Al Roker, who said his piece about the national weather, and then said those magical words, "And here's what's happening in your neck of the woods."
And there he was. A tall, lanky man with a clicker in his palm, pointing to images that really aren't there. I let out a "Pete!" as the Whatever emerged from the shower.

He's way cuter in this new headshot. Thanks, channel 7!

"That's what I'm competing against?!" He gasped. I continued to face the television as Pete did a little dance to indicate the movement of a cold front. I sighed.
"He's bald. He's... he's not hot."
"Shut up. He is so."
"Whatever. I hope I never go bald, because I think bald guys are much less threatening."
"But he's funny," I said. "Funny goes a long way."
"I'm funny. And I have all my hair."
"You're not that funny."
"Well, if you love Pete so much, why don't you date him?"
"He's married. And [my friend who works at 7] took out a restraining order. She won't even let me in the building anymore."
"Well, maybe I'll go find Chikage Windler. [Friend] will let me near her. Maybe we can catch the both of them and put them in a jar."
"Will we give them air holes?"
"Of course. And we will let them go after a day."
So it's not just me, people. Nerds far and wide of both genders love the meterologists. And, gentlemen, hair is just hair. A sense of humor can't be grafted to a person. If a nice guy with a pretty face and no hair comes up to me, I'd be all about that. The Whatever is attractive, don't get me wrong, but something about a guy who's humble and funny makes me all schmoopy.