March 02, 2004

San Francisc-'Ho loves Rovey!

Sigh. Sometimes I'm just sure as Senator Santorum's un-plunged maidenhead that the whole world's huddled together under one ginormous crazy quilt and Rovey's and my invites got lost in the mail. All these people getting their collective unmentionables in a knot over such goofy things! If you're wondering where I've been, and why I've been such a slowpoke about posting, it's cause Rovey and I have been flying back and forth from San Fran (And boy are my arms tired! No - they really are. Rovey wanted to play a mile-high game of veal calf and milkmaid, and guess who was the only one who brought along their stool?), chatting with that nice young mayor, and all those friendly nautical folks (at least I figured that's what they were - Rovey kept muttering about muff-divers and seamen everywhere) outside City Hall. They all seemed really excited to see Rovey, and kept offering to let him taste and kiss and touch various bits of their bodies. That all just made me giggle and realize that things really *are* all different and so much more friendly out there on the Left Coast. Here in the East, we just make those prissy, guppy air-kisses, but now I'm going to start offering people nuts to eat, and my tuckus to smooch when I meet them, too! Everyone will think I've gone soooo California.

Anyhow, even though Rovey has to pretend to go along with what his boss says, I know for a fact that he's not with him on this issue. Rovey's boss says that marriage should just be between one man and one woman, and I could certainly see how that might be preferable from a practical standpoint and all. I mean, now that I've seen how many folks out there were foaming at the Rovehole for a chance to be my Blubblenumpkins' lawfully wedded 'Ho, it seems like it would be a nearly Hastert-sized task to find a venue big enough to squeeze in all his blushing brides, let alone find enough pudding spoons for all the guests. Plus, trying to get around to consummate tender wedding-night cuddlelumps with all of them? Even a thoroughbred pumpy pony like my Rovey can only trot so many paddocks in an evening, and I know just how sad and soggy it'd make him knowing he had to leave a 'Ho's behind.

And also, I saw with my own pretty peepers just how frothed up all those sailors got when they saw that Rear Admiral Rovey of the SS Cuddleblumps was docking in San Francisco Bay. Why, they jumped right to attention, offering to swab his poop deck, tug his dinghy, do various things with yards and arms (I don't know - I'm a landlubber, not a boatwrighter.), etc. It just seems so *wrong* to legally deny anyone the right to Rovey. Roveosexuality knows no bounds of gender, age, social standing, or heck - even species. From the lowliest gerbil, all the way up to, heck - the Governor of Texas, everyone should be allowed to nup up with Rovey, and I'm gonna suck it up right now and say that Rovey's boss is a great big doo-doo head for trying to stonewall that!

Posted by Virginia at March 2, 2004 09:37 AM | TrackBack