Well thank goodness! The press prints so many nasty little fibs about my Rovey, that it does my heart a bushel of good when some fair, balanced news outlet actually offers hardcore facts about my cuddlenumpkins.
The current issue of Newsweek says…
You bet my baby's got a golden throat - and he's not shy about opening it up to let a sweet stream of notes flow! While I've mentioned before that Rovey got into college on a skin flute scholarship (He doesn't play much these days, but he sure doesn't mind letting me borrow his instrument so he can watch me tootle away!), aside from his legendary performances at Log Cabin Republican cocktail hours and karaoke nights at his favorite little Dupont Circle boite, the general public sadly just isn't aware of his glorious oral talents. But I am one charmed RoveHo, indeed! I just never know if I'm going to get an impromptu full-dress rendition of a number or two from Pinafore, a soulful a cappella croon of whatever Backstreet slow-jam is repeating on his iPod that day, or a full blown Sousa march tooting under the covers after my Rovey's eaten a smidge too much dairy before beddy-bye.
Honestly, though, even more than his music making, I adore my baby for his dancing - especially when he catches me unawares and thrusts me into a horizontal mambo. Rovey may have two left feet, but lucky for me, at least one whole foot of that is right where it oughta be!
One, two, hot cha-cha!