Scoot over Wayne Flowers and Madame - there's a sassy new vaudeville duo in town, and we're kicking keisters and taking names! (Rovey says he swiped the name-taking idea from his old hero Mr. McCarthy, but I'm adding a special RoveHo flair and making it pretty pink instead of dull old black. Rovey said pink is fine, but pink-o and red are definitely out, and then he giggled so hard I had to re-launder his dance belt. I swear I do not understand that man sometimes!) Anyhow, I had a super-fun time on Friday at Minister Tony Blair Presents, telling silly stories about how Rovey and I met, and smearing warm, gooey mayo on myself while people chuckled, but that wasn't the big showbiz coup of the weekend, nosiree!
I'm sure by now, you've read in the WaPo about how my Twinkletush stole the show at the annual Gridiron Club dinner with his Oz Scarecrow-togged rendition of "If He Only Had My Brain" for his fellow pols & journos, but that's barely a straw from the bale. 'Cause working press is persona-non-gingrich at the dinner (though Rovey lets me keep this blog, technically I'm not "working" press right now since he's suspended my allowance until further notice for failing to get all the béarnaise and Cocoa-Puff crumbs out of the duvet cover this past chore wheel day), a whole lot of funny stuff goes unreported. For instance, his lederhosen-clad flugelhorn and vocal ode to Howard Dean "The Lonely Vote-herd" and blackface soft-shoe to the tune of "Seventy-Six Strombones", not to mention the tens of cents he raised for the Center For Disease Control with his charity lap-dance station off in the corner by the brie wheel and decorative ice-Gore. (Well, at least I *thought* it was a decoration until I went to knock a finger off to chill down my Clamato and realized it was actually the ex-VP. I'm *still* blushing!) Okay, not the most optimum locale for Rovey's sans-pants dance d'amour, seeing as Mrs. Tipper was at the ready with a roll of parental advisory stickers and threatening to affix them the second she spied an inch of exposed nether-flesh. But still Andrew Sullivan and Mary Cheney managed to find their way Rove-ward and slip some spare change into his drawers, and because of their generosity I got to spend the whole ride home playing Miner 69er prospecting for precious veins of metal down my Cuddlenumper's treasure trail. Oooh - must go - Rovey says he's about to pitch another penny, and he needs his Tally 'Ho to make sure it comes out even!