"Paisley is the new black." So says Queenie from Queenie's Random Ramblings in a comment yesterday regarding my honest attempt to de-bachelorize my boyfriend. He rebutted in a scathing review of my efforts on his blog and although I consider myself the clear winner in this occupation, I took notes when he accused me of "assaulting" his bachelorhood. Oh please.
The only thing that needs assaulting in his decorator.
I can't believe my peaceful skirt just said that.
I so need a woman's point of view right now. I'm a southern gal lost in a bachelor's pad in Connecticut. What was I THINKING?!
I'm trying to be subtle. Really I am. "Bring a few things to make you feel at home, Mimi," said Bud. So I brought lamps, throws, pillows, draperies, china, floral arrangements, a small chest, a table and lamps. Did I mention lamps?
Round 2- Operation De-Bachelorization. How am I doing, girls?
In the span of twenty-four hours I've managed to remove 12 basketball posters from the guest bedroom (even the one hiding behind the door), add a table and lamp, hang four pictures, disguise the can opener and cover a chair.
And then he got sick. I mean really sick.
Change will do that to a man. I nearly had to call 911.
He was standing in the hallway with that I-am-not-amused-but-I-shall-surrender look when I heard these words come out of his cute little mouth.
"You can take down the basketball posters if you want."
I nearly dropped the paisley.
"Are you sick?"I asked. I hadn't even mentioned it before.
"No." he said in that comatose way men do when they have nothing left in the arsenal of reason.
I put my hand on his head. Hmmmm.......no fever. Curious.
"Are you SURE?" I asked.
"I'll be careful not to tear them."
He went to lie down.
I went to find a tape recorder and a poster killer. Strategy. Strategy. Think, Mimi, think! What did you do to cause this metamorphosis? You can't cook. That's not it.....no.....it must be. Giggle. Yea, that's it. But I digress.
Sometimes he talks in his sleep. Just as the last thumbtack came out of UCONN's victory print I heard a mumble from the as-yet-untouched bedroom.
"You covered the chair."
Three Hail Marys and holding my breath as I skip down the hall.
"I like it. I never liked that chair anyway."
Score two for pencil skirt.
Go back to sleep, Babe. You need your rest.
Martha Stewart would say It's a good thing. But I'm not totally unscathed in this war. I've learned to never never ever ever leave the ice bucket unfilled or the soft drink bottle cap loose. Taking notes....these things are important to said bachelor. In this battle I've also learned the art of concession. Remember the comment he made on his blog yesterday about the freaky plant he found growing in the middle of his coffee table?
I moved it.
But not without an obvious smirk from comedian boyfriend. See photo.
The plant suddenly grew a face. Wise guy.
Girls, I know what you're thinking. I have my work cut out for me. But despite his lame attempts at subtle revenge- and trust me, there is not a subtle bone in his body - he did manage to get my attention. I can no longer open the 2-liter drinks in the first place since he screwed the caps back on with superglue. Score one for the boyfriend.
Suddenly it was dinnertime and the grand unveiling of a room he would not recognize if I do say so myself. I poured some wine, lit a candle and braced myself for the worst.
"Wow." I heard. "I never knew a kitchen could be a room before."
Notice strategically placed Smirnoff bottle beside plate hiding can opener. It's the first thing he sees when he walks in.
All hail the power of the pencil skirt.
Just a minute.
"There's some kind of pineapple growing on the lamp in the kitchen."
Update: Can someone say over? Perhaps it was my decorating....