Monday, September 27, 2004

BOY, GEORGE, WATCHA GOT UNDER THAT MUUMUU?





Readers, be appreciative of this entry. I had to fight long and hard to talk the Leotard out of a veto, which he has never pulled before.

What do all of the above people have in common?

Well, okay, except for the one on the bottom.

These are all people who Leo has at various times 1) believed to be women and 2) found sexually attractive.

Boy George stole Leo's heart when he was an adolescent. Since most adolescent boys have--let's say-- not very finicky standards in these matters, I guess I can see how such a thing could happen.

But HANSON? They weren't big until 1996. Leo was born in 1970-- do the math. NAMBLA.

Leo is not the most romantically complimentary person in the world. The most I get is a "You look cute" once every couple of months. Now I know I can't compete with the ideal woman he worships in his head.

Addendum: Leo points out that it was specifically "The Hanson on the right" and still believes "She looks like a chick."

Wednesday, September 22, 2004

A TAIL OF ONE TWITTY

My sincere apologies for being so slow to update this site. Believe me, it's not for lack of material. I'll try to stay on top of things, but if you want, just send me your email address (amanda_gailey@hotmail.com) and I will let you know when I update.

God, where to start.

This summer I went to San Francisco for a conference, and Leo's mother drove up to meet me for dinner. I have conflicting attitudes toward Leo's mom. On the one hand, if anyone's to blame for his 'tardisms, it's her. On the other hand, the poor woman has had to put up with him for 34 years now, so she's really paid for whatever contributions she made.

His mom, aunt, uncle and I met for dinner at a swanky place on the Embarcadero. Leo makes me photograph my food when I go on trips. Usually this is pretty embarassing, since I either have to explain to colleagues that my husband is just really into food and not a psychotic control freak, or, as happened on my last trip to Chicago, I have to photograph my hot dog (in this case) while I'm by myself, which makes me look like some sort of hardcore OCD patient. Anyway, I whipped out the camera when the hors d'oeuvres arrived, and Leo's aunt asked me why. I said "It's for Leo--" and before I even started the usual explanation, they all casually said "Oh" and continued eating. No explanation necessary.

As we were eating, I told Leo's mom that Leo thought babies were sometimes born with little horns. She did not seem to think this was strange. In fact, she one-upped me with an even more horrifying Leotard story. "Did Leo ever tell you what he had when he was born?" she asked. I vaguely remembered something about a full head of hair and teeth. "Well, yes, but that's not all," she said. "When he was born"-- and here her voice got a little higher as if she were describing a puppy-- "he had a curly tuft of hair right at the base of his spine. A little tail!"

Please take a moment to let this sink in. The Leotard was born with a tail. Now, in fairness, this has been the subject of some debate. No one is denying that Leo made his earthly debut sporting a plume of fur, a luxuriant, frilly tussock of hair just above his ass. The question is whether this constitutes a tail. Leo-- who, by the way, is quite unashamed of his pompon-- insists that a tail must have a fleshy appendage upon which hair may or may not sprout. He does not believe that hair alone comprises a tail. I have found dictionaries ambiguous on this point, but I think that most of us would unquestioningly view his tuft as a tail.

According to Leo's mother, the tail eventually fell out on its own accord. I find this fishy on two points. First, who wouldn't just shave the tail off? If our daughter inherits the tuft, I'll have a safety razor handy that Leo can use on her right before cutting the cord but after getting enough pictures of it to use as future blackmail material. Second, I've noticed recently that Leo does not like me to come into the bathroom while he's shaving. This morning I knocked on the door, and over the hum of the razor he frantically shouted "Wait! Wait!" and scuffled around before letting me in. I have a suspicion he's still sprouting plumage.

In other Leotarded news, I came across this picture online a few nights ago:



I was laughing at it and showed Leo. For roughly two minutes, he was amazed at how pointy this woman's ears are and by the fact that he has never seen anyone with ears like that-- in fact, they even looked like "elf ears," he said, before finally considering that they may not be real.