gremanda

There are so many things we can’t wait to share with our grefandas — highlights from Amanda’s Boston move party, lowlights of the actual move, pictures of our extra-special super-decked-out love nest — but in the meantime we’d like to hand the mic over to one of our greatest supporters.

Texas marketing dork genius Paul McEnany has been a fan since the beginning.  Or at least since the middle.  I have it on good authority that he has our first tweets tattooed on his lower back and like so many others he once tried to horn in on Amanda’s turf (photo evidence below).  Awww.  Look at that cute little bugger.

So who better to kick off what we hope will be a series of grefanmail guest posts, than our buddy (or perhaps our secret grelover) Paul — with this post, he officially lands in second runner up position for the role of “guy who makes long, annoying, vaguely inappropriate speech at our wedding.”   Not that we’re planning a wedding just yet, but it’s good to have a list of supporting cast members…

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There are great couples. The type who finish each others’ sentences, still write love notes and give each other “just because” gifts. Those that created all the hype behind all that sexting we’ve been hearing too much about.

Then there are couples who are great. I’m thinking JFK and Jackie. Luci and Desi. Ellen and Portia. Brad and Angelina. And debatably, Sarah Jessica and Matthew.

Then of course, there are those great couples who also happen to be great. The truly few and far between, the kind of couples difficult to find in the wild, but typified by something you may only see in a shitty Matthew McConaughey movie.

Fortunately for them, and quite unfortunately for us, Greg Verdino and Amanda Gravel might be just that couple. And even more distressing, they seem to have opened some black hole of grossness that’s slowly sucking us down into their very public campaign to prove their superfluous love-muffinry. The level of tweeted vulgarity should be enough to incite Jerry Falwell himself to rise from the grave in an effort revive his onslaught on obscenity.

And even with the wrath that his rebirth may cause, and the frightening policies that could be enacted, it might just be worth it.

Imagine; to stop a tweet like this “@gregverdino Hurry home, darlingcakes” – the undead Falwell will cow our frightened congress into enacting a new law against referencing baked goods in anything other than the most literal sense. And when that becomes clearly too difficult to enforce, rather than accomplishing his holy crusade by other means, he launches the most wide-ranging and far-reaching wiretapping operation since the Bush Administration.

And amidst all that chatter, Falwell and his henchman pick up these following, fateful muttered words from our bunkered President to his wife.

“Just stay there, honey buns. It’s gonna be okay.”

And with that – our first black President, our symbol of hope in a difficult time, will be arrested and impeached by the ghostly Jerry Falwell. He’ll then proclaim himself to be the one and only true ruler, the first King of America.

Flash forward one year later. By proclamation of King Falwell, all non-Baptists have been jailed and moved to towering slums erected by their own hands in San Francisco.

And as fate would have, Falwell – in a fanatical attempt to remain closer to the Bush homeland, moved the capitol to Texas and declared DC to henceforth be considered “Northern Mexico” while requiring that all elected democrats be penned there and referred to as Mexicans, and, by law, the word should be said in only the most scornful of tones.

Courthouses are burned for their relation to activist judges. Blue states are painted red and populated with only the most republican of snowflake babies. The poor are taxed at 90% to fund the negative taxation of the rich in the name of economic growth, and gay men are forced to attend re-education classes where they are taught to drive tractors and buy drinks for women.

This is the world created by Greg and Amanda. Or Gremanda as they selfishly like to be called through the bars of our San Francisco prison.

So this is the price we pay, our sacrifice for basking in the sleaze of a great couple of two great people. Were all those tweets worth it, Gremanda?

So in honor of all those very public displays of affection, I now award Gremanda Gravino, with the first annual – Jerry Falwell Trophy of Achievement in the Dark Art of Public Affection. Congratulations, and may God save us all.