I don’t know what’s worse:
1. The bran muffin I had for breakfast feels like road kill slowly dying in my stomach.
2. I have to go to a conference in LA all weekend BY MYSELF.
3. Gavin was on the Sarah and No Name show this morning and gleefully admitted that Sofia Eurotrash Milos was his girlfriend.
Are you fucking kidding me?
I was driving along Van Ness minding my own business and flipping through the radio channels when I heard a familiar gravelly voice.
On and on he went, discussing hobos, litter and graffiti. You know, all the shit I don’t care about. Until finally, that sleazy Hooman dives in with 3 “personal” questions.
“Is Sofia Milos your girlfriend?”
Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. I swerved my car up on a sidewalk and held my breath.
“Well, I feel like a little boy answering this, but yes. Sofia is my girlfriend.”
The sound that escaped my body must have frightened those that heard it; basically anyone within a 10 block radius. My boyfriend is dating Eurotrash, folks. He might as well be fucking Ricky Martin.
It only got worse.
Gavin then went into excruciating detail of the first time he saw her. They played porn music in the background as the love of my life described watching Curly Sue walk into some wedding. Apparently, she was “tall.”
Hello? I invented tall.
And you know what, people? I could speak 7 languages too, if one of them was broken English.
One of the things I love about Gavin is his charm and condor. But when he uses it against me, like he did this morning, talking about their first kiss and what a goddamn positive person she is, I slowly died inside.
How could he openly date a poorly dressed illegal immigrant? How could he be so blinded by fake boobs and bad floral prints? How could he engage in a conversation with someone who is mildly retarded at best?
With a final twist of the knife, he actually plugged her mini-series.
Mini-series? She’s one step away from a Lifetime Afternoon Movie and he’s bragging about how his “girlfriend” is “working her ass off” on a “Primetime Mini-Series.”
Who let this happen? Don’t we have a responsibility as citizens of San Francisco to not allow this ridiculous “relationship” get so out of control? She’s a Scientologist, for christsake. She doesn’t care about Gavin. She’s just biding her time until she can arrange for the mothership to beam him up for anal experiments and cloning.
Anyway, I would’ve driven over there and ripped the microphone away from him, but unfortunately, I’m currently sporting my 'Casual Friday' pigtails and do-rag look.
It’s not really Gavin appropriate.
Who am I kidding?
Based on his current tastes, I shoulda just swung by a Goodwill, picked up a quinceanera dress from 1989 and the goddamn mayor would have proposed…