Ok, I have a confession to make. I’m in love with the mayor of San Francisco. That’s right. Gavin Newsom is H-O-T. I went to San Francisco yesterday as part of my birthday celebration, and he was speaking in the square on behalf of small businesses. I was standing to the right of the stage, and when he wasn’t speaking, he was facing my direction. At one point he looked right at me, and I totally felt out of breath and I know my face got all red. Wow.
So Gavin, if you are reading this, I am single. I don’t go to any of the A-list parties. I don’t own a ballgown. I already have a couple children, oh, and I live with my parents. I’m known to pack on a few extra pounds during the holidays. I only loosely follow politics, but they tend to bore me if that’s all we have to talk about. More often than not I’m broke. And I have an ex and a lot of baggage that can be less than fun to deal with.
But I can do crosswords with a pen, and I can unscramble words in seconds. I can shell out sarcasm with the best of them. I can make pancakes from scratch, and can bake a batch of cookies without once tasting the cookie dough (sometimes). I own lots of songs on my iPod, and I’ll even let you listen sometimes. I sing in the car (but never in the shower, unless a song is stuck in my head), and sometimes I even sing in key using the right words. Oh, and I love San Francisco, so it’s really convenient that this is the town you are mayor of.
So give it a chance, Mr. Newsom. Heck, maybe I’ll even borrow my dad’s car to meet you somewhere. See you soon!