Operation De-Bachelorization (UPDATE)

UPDATE: Since I posted this yesterday, the bachelor has rebutted. And rightly so. You can read his response on his blog.  I've got some 'splaining to do.




"I forgot to tell you I'll be home late. I have a meeting at 5:00."

Perfect! I am thinking. I'll miss you, I said.
Kiss goodbye, pretend asleep, the door latches. One more snooze just in case he forgot his IPod. Silence. The car starts.
I spring out of bed.
It's Operation Debachelorization Day in the tape radio studio.

Some things are sacred. I've marked them. But honestly, how many things with Budweiser engraved on it can one have? How many do you think the infamous DJ has? Don't ask. Just don't ask.
This is no easy task, folks. These things must be done delicately (said the wicked witch of the East just before she plotted to kill Dorothy) I hope Boyfriend remembers - and recognizes - his 'no place like home' when he gets home. I forgot my hot air balloon.

On the Do Not Touch list: Anything remotely resembling The Beatles

anything remotely resembling John Lennon, anything remotely resembling the Yankees, anything remotely resembling an immortalized can of Budweiser (I've never seen him drink beer but that's beside the point), anything within 3 feet of said Budweiser beer motif including dust particles, anything with UCONN or Huskies lettering, anything remotely resembling a Smirnoff bottle shall remain stationary and upright at all times, anything remotely resembling Boyfriend standing with a celebrity or autographed thereon, anything remotely resembling forty years of photographic memorabilia of his tape radio and DJ career, anything remotely remotely resembling the semblance of any of the above.

That left exactly 3 inches of his place for me to redecorate.
Oh how he underestimateth my pencil skirt.

In his defense, he has been a bachelor for a long time. From where I'm sitting now, in said sacred studio, I can see seven works of art depicting a variation of Budweiser beer or UCONN basketball or a clever combination of the two, there are 24 framed photographs depicting forty years of said Tape Radio station, and to my left walk John, Ringo, Paul and George across Abbey Road - see pic above (well...that one's my fault since I gave it to him.)

And that's not counting five DJ microphones and four huge black leather chairs around the sacred round studio table. We've already "discussed" the chairs.
I did not fare well in this discussion and the power of my pencil skirt was to no avail regarding studio chairs. They're black. They're big. They shall remain indefinitely in place and wait for invisible DJs to appear. Got it.

Let us pray.

I need it.

Now if you'll excuse me I have fluffy pillows
and Yankee-less lamps to unpack. And I'm meeting the housekeeper today. She just walked in and didn't know where she was. Stay tuned. Film at 11.

Or I'll just wave from above as I drift by in my hot air balloon on the way back to Bloggingham. I'm thinking paisley....