i met my pretend, d-list celebrity ex-boyfriend.
that's right. d.vo was in chicago, and as fate commanded, we met on this city's very streets.
late late late friday night, i get a phonecall to come meet some friends at charlie's, so i get to hoofin' and make the trek up halsted.
en route, i see this gaggle of gays and gals looking a little confused and befuddled.
me: "hey y'all, where you going?" (i was a little, wee bit intoxified, so i had my accent and my nice face on)
them: "charlie's... but... um... don't know where it is."
me: "shucks, i'm heading there myself, just mosey on over with me." (okay, so that's exaggerated.)
we're walking. well. i should say, they're walking behind me as i walk to charlie's alone. sad? definitely.
so i look behind me, to steal a glance at this group of kids i'm harriet tubman-ing to charlie's, and suddenly - shock - - awe -
me: "holy shit! that's daniel vosovic!" (i say very musical theaterly, pointing a la something out of "bye bye, birdie")
random groupie girl #1: "uh, noooo, it's noooooot! his naaaaame is bri-an!" (she gave me an awful look and was totes bitchy about it!)
me: "girl, please, i know my d.vo!" (i suddenly became margaret cho being a black gay man)
so now, i'm walking with them, sorta chatting it up, and they didn't really seem to mind. afterall, i was playing moses martin to their exiled egyptians.
me: "so... like... are you wearing one of his dresses?" (intoxification leads to bad small talk)
random groupie girl #2: "heh... you're kidding right?" (intoxification leads to cuntification)
...and this was the beginning of the end because after that little exchange i started to realize just how rude and obnoxious these cats were. they didn't want to wait in line at charlie's, they didn't want to pay, they wanted free drinks, they wanted to cut in line for the bathroom, and they wanted to then be left alone.
let's just say, i'm glad i broke up with him when i did. he's short - we're talking like card-carrying member of the lollipop guild short - and a bad drunk - we're talking like stumbles mcrollyeyes meets befuddled o'jellylimbs - and a diva - we're talking like... well... you know, a diva. oh, and his hair is long again, which i'm pretty sure is why we almost didn't go out in the first place.
ugh, d.vo... i really wanted to like you. really, i did.
but you, much like every other boy in my life, refuse to let well-enough alone.
that's right, my former reality television love, walk those dusty trails...
walk those dusty trails right out of my heart.
posted by brett @ 4:22 PM
6 Comments:
uh. is he like wearing... a dress?
i don't care how gay you are, brett. you don't need to crush on a guy? that wears a dress...
just me, though.
when i saw him at sidetracks he wasn't drunk yet. he must've gotten drunk somewhere else...
seriously. what's with the dress? that's fuckin' GAY!
"me: "so... like... are you wearing one of his dresses?" (intoxification leads to bad small talk)
random groupie girl #2: "heh... you're kidding right?" (intoxification leads to cuntification)"
Hands down the funniest thing I have read in weeks! Thanks for the laugh!
I am so sad that he sucked in real life. Oh well, he is still sweet and loving, not to mention well hung in my dreams each night.
I saw him at sidetrack too, and my friend who was celebrating his birthday asked to have his photos with him. He was nice about it, but not overly nice. Sounds like his night got worse for him.
sometimes it's best not to meet our idols! But I will make an exception for Jake G.
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