Well I'm one RoveHo breathing a heck of a lot easier tonight, what with no longer having to cower in the scruffy face of terror. Let me tell you - the events of the past few months have simply scrambled my nerves. But nonetheless, I love my Rovey, and just because his family is a little bit nutty doesn't mean I have to hold that against my little piggly wiggly cuddle lumpkins. It just makes me feel closer to him and want to hold him close until everything is better.
See, it all started a few months ago when that cranky ol' Mr. Rumsfeld showed up in the middle of the night. I answered the door 'cause Rovey wasn't wearing any jammies (the elastic waistband chafes his tummy, and we're all out of his special rash salve), and Rummy barked at me to go tell him that he and Mr. Wolfowitz had run into his Uncle Saddy, and that he needed somewhere to stay for a little while. Well, any relative of Rovey's is welcome in our home of course, but when I caught a whiff of this fellow…whoooo! He reeked like he'd been rolling around in the donkey pen at a petting zoo, and it was obvious he hadn't shaved in months - it was like he'd been living in a cave or someplace they didn't have mirrors, let alone reruns of Queer Eye! Rummy and Wolfie must have grabbed him when he about to step into the shower, because he still had a towel wrapped around his head, and what looked to be a robe and flip-flops in serious need of some All-Tempa-Cheer. I sure wasn't happy that he was tracking dirty sand all over the kitchen floor. I'd just spent HOURS on my knees in one of the First Lady's old lavender pantsuits (She's so wasteful! Sometimes Rovey brings me home clothes of hers that she was going to toss just because the crotch was frayed out!) waxing the linoleum until Rovey could see his handsome Grade-A grin in it. But I was an obedient girl (just like the First Lady!) and just smiled.
I was offering to make up a guest room for Uncle Saddy, but right then, Rovey came bolting down the stairs in his Aquaman Underoos and said no, no - Uncle Saddy had been veeeery bad, and would have to spend the night down in the basement. Of course I understood, because sometimes when I've been super-naughty, and forgotten to use the cents-off Go-GURT® coupon at the Sam's Club, or left the cap off the Astroglide, Rovey sends me down there to sit in the Special Chair until he's good and ready to let me make it up to him, but I was also kind of disappointed, because there was a 7th Heaven marathon on PAX the next afternoon, and I'd had all of the toys and furniture downstairs simonized and recharged in anticipation of how pleased he'd be. But again, I plastered on my very bestest First Lady grin and went to the basement to hitch up our strongest set of guest shackles like Rovey asked. Rummy and Wolfie must have been ribbing Rovey about how generous he is, because Rovey was bright, piggy pink when I got back upstairs. Still, that didn't stop them from seeing awfully happy to lead Uncle Saddy downstairs and lock him right up.
Now you know what they say about fish and relatives - that they both need their water changed every week or so. Well even though Rovey quite strictly told me not to, every few days, I'd bring down a fresh Brita pitcher and some lard soap, but it was clear Uncle S. wasn't scrubbing behind his ears (or anywhere else for that matter), because his skin stayed all grimy brown, and not smooth, Pilsbury white like his nephew Rovey's. He also just kept refusing to eat the snacks I brought him - even when I made dishes Rovey loves best, like Creamy Pork Cracklin' Pie or Rum Jell-O Salad. The nerve! I even brought the portable TV down from Rovey's bathroom so Uncle S. could watch Rich Girls and Baywatch (all boys LOVE "Babewatch"!) and my stories with me, but that Grumpy Gus just kept rattling his chains and trying to squirm down and kneel on the floor. Well, I guess that custom-cured, hand-quilted pig leather furniture just isn't FANCY enough for SOME people, but it suits Rovey and me just fine, thank you very much! And I tried and tried to ask him just what WOULD suit his highness (and I don't mean to be rude) but with that thick New Jersey accent (Rovey said Uncle Saddy was from somewhere in the middle East, so I assume that's it, but I couldn't guess specifically which Turnpike exit) I couldn't understand a word of what he said!
Aaaaaanyhow, the weeks just dragged on and on and on, and while of course any relative of Rovey's is welcome in our home, I just wanted our lives to go back to normal. I mean, it's not like I could hear him - Rovey and I had paid extra to get the basement professionally soundproofed (Silly neighbors kept thinking we were mad at each other instead of having greasy-chaps fun time!), but I just knew he was down there. It also kept us from having our high-chair and strappy-swing sessions and I swear, I could just feel all the toys drying out and rusting. And ohhh…I get sooooo cranky when Rovey and I don't get our weekly game of Crooked C.E.O. and Federal Prose-Cutie On The Take. Mmmm…stocks 'n bondage! But I dared not nag him about when Uncle Saddy would be leaving because he'd already explained to me that Uncle S. couldn't be brought out in public until everything was positioned just right. I guess he meant the cameras and the klieg lights, because boy, were there a lot of those pointed at him when they brought him out today! I'm such a silly girl for not knowing about these things - he must be a pop star or something, because I swear, his face was on every single channel I flipped past today on my way to Animal Planet. I guess he's one of those socially conscious musicians like Bono, because I heard all these mentions of his "human rights record", and there were all these pictures of people screaming in the streets and things exploding. Personally, I don't see why performers have to spend so much money on dangerous stage shows like that instead of just singing - did all those people dying at the nightclub in Rhode Island teach us nothing?
I'm just glad that horror is over, and sure hope that Rovey doesn't have any more unexpected guests dropping by in the near future - though he did mention that his boss's pal Oscar-Ben Larden was wearing out his welcome over at Lynne and Dick's. Sheesh! You'd think they'd have an extra room or two at the White House for treasured old family friends, wouldn't you? Aw well - never mind that - he said it probably wouldn't happen until late October, maybe early November, and by then, the campaign will be in such full swing that who will have time to fuss about ol' Oscar showing up?
Oh golly - where has the time gone? Rovey's gonna be home soon, and he's warned me that if I don't have the Special Chair all greased up and ready, he's just going to have to turn it all the way up to TEN! Wish me luck, RoveHos!