Sunday, October 14, 2007

*Dream Girl*

The last time I went home to the exclusive, New England Garrigan Compound a strange thing happened as I sat with my parents at cocktail hour(zzzz). My dad leaned across the table, littered with discarded Newcastle (the official beer of Patrick Garrigan) bottles & fine cheeses, fatherly sincerity & ages of wisdom weighting his voice, he asked:

"Patrick, did you fart?"

Given my history with cheeses I confided that I had in fact, "ripped a mean one."

"Patrick, that's gross, but not what I wanted to talk to you about today. You're mother and I have been talking, you're getting older and you have very poor social skills. We're certainly not getting any younger, we feel it's time you started getting serious about finding that special girl & giving us some grandkids."

Then I farted again.

Coming from a theatrical background, all's I know are actresses, and so that is who I've dated. Some of which are pictured at left. (Yes, I am moderately delusional that cool & so pathetic posh as to create a collage of fake ex's). However, after my parents heart to heart, I began to wonder if maybe I needed to redirect my attentions to find a more long-term, foundation-buildable relationship. I vowed to keep my eyes open to other possible mates. Maybe even in other careers.

And then it happened.

I was walking home from my gym, Mid City Gym: The Last Real Gym (and official gym of Patrick Garrigan), and standing outside the Gershwin Theatre was my dream girl.

5'7", curvy, sexily rocking a charcoal gray pantsuit as she stood in front of her fuck-off Suburban, hand on her hip cradling a REALLY BIG GUN! It was love at first sight. My dream girl?


A Female Secret Service Agent!! (artist rendering)

Okay, okay, I know what you're thinking, "THAT'S THE STUPIDEST FUCKING THING I'VE EVER HEARD." ....or something to that effect. Your skepticism is predictable & understandable. Which is why I have compiled the following reasons why a female Secret Service agent might just be the person to take on the mantle of the coveted Mrs. Garrigan title. Read on, I think you'll agree:

  • Handcuffs. Meow....
  • At long last I can get that motorcade I've always wanted.
  • Seriously? Is there anything hotter than a girl with a gun? Seriously.
  • Can use "Protective Detail" excuse to cut to the head of line at Space Mountain.
  • Tight pantsuit + no panty lines = Thong! Yes! Yes! Yes! (Patrick begins his insipid arm pumping gesture, and wont' stop -Helen)
  • Fulfills the "must take bullet for me" requisite in my ideal mate checklist.
  • Through-the-kitchen access to all the best restaurants! Nifty!

Yeah, I think I made my case.

So let search begin. All you foxy GWGG readin' Secret Service agent ladies out there this is your chance! Let those @secretservice.gov emails fly! 'Cause babies, I won't be on the market for long. (Sobbing ensues)

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