January 28, 2004

Luck of the craw.

Okay…deep breath…

I just have to address something that's been sticking in my craw lately (and thus disallowing Rovey from full access to my craw, and you can just imagine how cranky that makes him!).

I get soooo much nice mail from fellow RoveHos all the time, saying how amazing it is to them that my Doodoolumpikins got to be an incredibly influential White House poohbah, without anyone even having to go to the bother of voting for him. Heck - I don't know what Rovey's boss would do without "the most powerful unelected person in American history" there to help him stay awake at work when has to hunker down and pull an all-afternooner in the Oval Office, stop him from pointing the tv clicker toward Mr. Cheney's pacemaker, spit-wipe the Cheez Doodle dust off his nose and lapels before meetings with the DEA, etc. It's a super-full time job for a guy who didn't even get to celebrate an electoral victory with a Chocolate Meltdown Cake at the Chi-Chi's over at the Winn-Dixie Plaza. No - as usual, it had to be All About His Boss, and I thank all you thoughtful RoveHos who have written in to tell me that you hope he'll have a nice long rest and lots of time to spend with his Cuddlenumplette after the election in November. And extra smoochies to the folks who offered to chip in and buy us both tickets to visit far off lands like Antarctica, Nova Zembla and East Bumblefudge! So sweet of you!

But the thing that's left the bitter taste on my tongue (well, besides Rovey's new brand of male itch unguent - bleaugh!) are the grouchy gingriches who write in to say things like "Eeeeewwww! I can't believe you make a website about making sticky nookie with Karl Rove!" and "Karl Rove humping with you?!? My eyes! Myyyy eeeyyyyessss!!!! You can't be serious!?!?" Well all I have to say is that that is just…well…MEAN and you can all shut your nasty pudding holes, you hear me! I mean, do you think I don't KNOW I'm not the prettiest chicken in the barnyard, and that what with Rovey spending his at-work hours with dishy little vixens like Karen Hughes and his boss's Mom, I'm lucky he so much wants to look at me, let alone make cuddle lumps? He could drape his Sansabelts and sock garters on the credenza of any fetching RoveHo he so pleased, but he picked plain old ME! I can't understand it, but I try to thank St. Dymphna every day by doing something nice like whipping up a batch of Pat Robertson's Age Defying Shakes for hungry young Hill staffers, or distributing Rovey's retired athletic supporters to underprivileged teens at the Police Athletic League. Rovey is playing so waaaayyyy out of my league that I'm grateful for any second he lets me dribble his balls!

Posted by Virginia at January 28, 2004 07:54 AM | TrackBack