The way to my mother’s heart is through the cacao

Last Christmas morning, as I unwrapped a 10 oz. box of GODIVA chocolate and a simple, silver framed heart with the message, “Break the rules or you’ll miss all the fun,” I squealed with delight and my mother’s jaw dropped.

“Oh my gosh. And that box is ALL DARK CHOCOLATE.”

“Well, of course. I only eat dark chocolate.”

“Yes, I know that. I just can’t believe he knows you so well that he could give you such a thoughtful, personal gift.”

“What kind of relationship do you think we have, Mom? You’re not the only one who buys me fine chocolate.”

A few days later, as we passed by all of the GODIVA gift boxes at Macy's, she couldn’t resist checking out the current chocolatier market prices (since you know, she usually sticks to buying this). And when she turned back around to look at me, I could see the change in her face.

It’s a very special day when your mother realizes that your gay boyfriend is more than just a fling.

And even if the bitches did catch up to me, he promised that he would throw on his pumps, drive all the way down to Austin and kick some serious ass

Email exchange last Friday between me and my gay boyfriend as we discussed my going to a gay bar that night to celebrate Mardi Gras:

But my question is what do the pre-op trannies flash to get beads? And as a straight, small-boobed girl, will I be able to get any beads?

If they won’t give you any beads, then just take some off the bitches’ necks! Then run as fast as possible.

Damn, does this mean I'll NEVER be Britney?

Recently said to me by a school friend (on behalf of a handful of friends I’ve known for almost 2 years now):

You're NEVER going to tell us, are you? No matter how hard we try, you’re never going to tell us about your secret life with your secret boyfriends and your secret weekends.

Not bad. It takes some people three years to finally figure that out.