Bellies Full of Cheeses, Faces Full of Spleen

Filed under creepy boyfriend obsession

I’m leaving work early today to go to one of a long line of scholarship receptions for Dr. Boyfriend. Because even though the law firm where he’s a patent agent is paying for him to go to law school, he’s a genius and can’t avoid getting money thrown at him.

For some reason, I get all excited about these receptions. I just think it’s so neat that he works full-time and somehow still manages to be at the top of his class (mostly by staying home and reading cases when he should be taking his lady out dancing) that I feel sort of like a proud mother when the invitations come in the mail. I think about how the dean of the school will fawn over him, and how I’ll embarrass myself trying to make everyone laugh, and how we’ll fill up on cured meats and cookies.

But what I never remember is that by the end of them, this always happens:


  1. Noel says:

    Thanks for stopping by my blog, and thanks for not thinking Adam Lambert is freakin’ amazing! I enjoy reading your blog. I’m a friend of Stephanie Patenaude’s and found your blog through her Facebook. It’s a keeper!

    • Oh, no, now you’re totally going to get me in trouble with my blogfriend who knows Adam! I don’t even remember how I found your blog, but I’m glad to know about the Stephanie connection, since I’m obviously too shy to ask how random people get here. Hooray! And now I’ve added you to my Google Reader.

  2. spaghedeity says:

    Oh, Kamran looks so cute with his schoolboy backpack and plastic cutlery.

    I almost want to part his hair, pack his lunch-box, and walk him to the bus-stop.

    • Isn’t the backpack ridiculous? I especially love that when he’s going to school right after work, he wears the backpack AND carries the leather briefcase.

      I can’t wait for you to be a dad!

  3. Lori says:

    Dr. Boyfriend is just cute and funny. It makes me happy that y’all love each other you crazy kids you. ~ Lori

  4. Karinya says:

    Soo, when I eventually cave to my grandmother’s wishes and kick my southern, muscle shirt wearin’ southerner to the curb, I can share your boyfriend, right? Right?

    • Karinya says:

      “southern, muscle shirt wearin’ southerner,” eh?

      You, too, could have these mad writing skills if you went for your mfa.

    • YES! And bring the baby, although you should understand that she’s your sole responsibility and that the moment she spits up on me, you’re outta here.