Campy

One of my friends from college is moving back up here for the summer and I am positively elated.  He's half Italian, half Irish, and 100% awesome.  Not to be racist or anything, but can you think of a better genetic makeup for a bar friend?  I can't make up a blog name any better than his real name, which is identical to that of a notorious Cold War-era Senator.  Therefore, he shall be called The Senator.  

I'm unbelievably excited about The Senator's arrival.  First of all, I'm insanely lonely.  The Butler is constantly being forced to put in overtime to compensate for my lack of friends.  Not only does he have to take me on dates, but in the absence of an acting Gay Husband, he also has to listen to me talk about things like my feelings (and I have a ton of those), my period, my kids - you know, all those things that turn Boyfriends on.  Zexy.  

Having someone to at least party with will take some pressure off The Butler and let him focus on things like writing music and becoming a Famous Teen Heartthrob*.  

N-E-Wayzzz

The Senator and I were discussing our ACTION-PACKED SUMMER OF OH!9, when he mentioned how much (a lot) he was looking forward to camping.  

"Oh yeah, that'll be fun," I told him. "How do you feel about taking five chirrens with us?  Or maybe just les bebes?"

"What's happened to you??  We're packing bongs, not babies."  

That's fine with me, as long as The Senator remembers the munchies.