So we all know how much I love me some Barry. We all also know that R got me the rawkinest evah Xmas gift.

The gift of Barry tickets. Yes, Barry and I were destined to spend another evening together. We’re just meant to be

So last night was the night. I saw him in Vegas last year on Valentines Day at the Hilton and it was pure awesomeness. I cried the ENTIRE show. I really thought I’d have it together this time round.

This is what I looked like pre-Barry.

Now here’s the thing–I’ve mentioned in previous posts that Barry always picks someone to dance with him to a song. We were kinda up a few rows from the stage, and well, I know he’s getting (whispers) older, but sweet mother and all the apostles–WHAT does a girl have to do to get his attention? Is my hair not big enough? My bling? Do you see that freakin’ thing around my neck??? it’s ginormous!And did he pick ME–his biggest evah fan? Why no, no he didn’t. He sang The Old Songs and he picked DARCYYYY–Darcy, Darcy, Darcy–some screamin’ wench who clung to him like fried on chicken.

Now, that said, I’m sure Darcy’s LOVELY–however, this IS Barry–all bets are off here, ya feel me? IIIIIIIIIIII deserved that damned dance–me, and NO ONE else. LOL. To add insult to injury, I also lost the drawing for the weekend in Vegas and all the signed goodies.

So this–THIS is what I looked like POST-Barry–

I was a sad, sad girl. Alas, again, I sobbed almost the entire show, but it was still awesomeness.

And-I got me some goodies–

And the race to hunt Barry down and dance with him whether he wants me to or not? well, t’s ON, BABY!

DC

throw pork at your valentine day…

uh-huh–it’s true. That dream man you guys all tell me I have all the time THREW PORK at me. Seriously.

It went like this–Rob came home and brought not just me, but my mother a little something, too. Don’t go ooohin’ and ahhhin’ just yet.

He plunks down a BIG ole box of chocolate on the kitchen table and wishes her a happy V-Day, then hands me a card and a wee package of Dove chocolates. My mother’s box hits the table like lead, shaking it, and making the  silverware bounce. My mother, all atwitter, ditches the dinner I so lovingly prepared and pops open that box like it has the meaning of life in it. She’s all happy snappy and runs off to gorge on said chocolate and I heat my mans meal up for him.

Cuz I’m a good woman. I read his card and its vey sweet, and also refers to me as his “wife”–which in hindsight, could explain his treatment of me. How quickly we forget I’m his GIRLFRIEND, and while I can’t take his stuff just yet because legally it’s not mine–don’t think I won’t try

As he’s eating the lovely garlic roasted pork tenderloin with homemade fettuccine Alfredo, I can’t remember why, but all of a sudden he’s holding a piece of pork up at me and threatening to THROW it at me. The pork I slaved over–the pork I made because I wasn’t going out to dinner for V-day… Just sayin’.

I, astonished that he’s threatened to throw pig, dare him to. I tell him if he throws it at me, I’ll pry his mouth open like the jaws of death and make him eat it. Curtsy. Smile.

I turn around to finish cleaning up after dinner, and I feel a solid thunk against my back.

He THREW the pork at me! It’s soooooo on. I then grabbed the piece of pork and tried to shove it down his throat as promised, but I was laughing so hard I couldn’t get a good grip on his smart-assed mouth. We settle back down again after much giggling and he informs me the pork just doesn’t taste like it normally does. Hookay, not only has he thrown pork at me but he’s insulted my loving display of a feast fit for a king…

I’m all willing to let it slide because his taste buds have been off due to a cold–a cold I lovingly nursed him through, FYI. I also tell him he better never throw pork at me again.

What does he do?

Throw it again–AND he whips it at my head–it grazed my hair. MY HAIR, people! I whiz it back at him and just for good measure, I snatch it back up and hurl it at him one more time. We giggle some more–I try to get past the idea that he hit my HAIR with the pork, and we giggle some more.

However, Rob’s not done just yet–as he gets up to empty his plate in the garbage–he dumps pork in my :coffee: COFFEE   –then runs like a pansy-ass upstairs and locks the bathroom door.

So for all of you who hate V-Day–just remember–my man raised his hand in pork to me AND gave my mother a bigger box of chocolates than me…

And how quickly he forgets–I’m a pro at backsies. I was married long time, dude…

DC