(wakes up out of stupor) “Did I hear somebody pop a bottle?”

(wakes up out of stupor) “Did I hear somebody pop a bottle?”


     Today is Jazz’s birthday and if there was one person who’d wish him the loudest, most sincere birthday it’d be Sweet D.
     Jazz and I have this running joke where whenever we like something we say, in D’s voice, “Fuck yeah, Jazz!” It’s something that started when he came to visit and the three of us went to Koreatown for soju and karaoke. We had just finished hot-boxing our private room (at this point I was putting cigarettes out on the couch), when Jazz busted out the human beatbox and did an extended version of Sexy Back. At the end, without a hint of sarcasm, Sweet D yelled, ”Fuck yeah, Jazz! You should rap professionally.” She’s always been the biggest supporter of anything someone is good at/passionate about/pursuing. For my writing she says, “Fuck yeah!” For Rosie having a baby she says, “Fuck yeah!” For Scotland becoming independent she says, “Fuck yeah!”  
      So Fuck yeah, Jazz! Happy birthday from me and Sweet D and Rosie and Adele and Ron Ron and Stefani and Baloney and Britney and Chloé and Chanel and Red and Kuhn Man and Chef Mary and The Georgian and fuck it, even Linda. I’m sure she’d love to buy you a shot, if only I let her.

     Today is Jazz’s birthday and if there was one person who’d wish him the loudest, most sincere birthday it’d be Sweet D.

     Jazz and I have this running joke where whenever we like something we say, in D’s voice, “Fuck yeah, Jazz!” It’s something that started when he came to visit and the three of us went to Koreatown for soju and karaoke. We had just finished hot-boxing our private room (at this point I was putting cigarettes out on the couch), when Jazz busted out the human beatbox and did an extended version of Sexy Back. At the end, without a hint of sarcasm, Sweet D yelled, ”Fuck yeah, Jazz! You should rap professionally.” She’s always been the biggest supporter of anything someone is good at/passionate about/pursuing. For my writing she says, “Fuck yeah!” For Rosie having a baby she says, “Fuck yeah!” For Scotland becoming independent she says, “Fuck yeah!”  

      So Fuck yeah, Jazz! Happy birthday from me and Sweet D and Rosie and Adele and Ron Ron and Stefani and Baloney and Britney and Chloé and Chanel and Red and Kuhn Man and Chef Mary and The Georgian and fuck it, even Linda. I’m sure she’d love to buy you a shot, if only I let her.


     A picture of the bride and groom with the parents. The couples separated, both literally and figuratively, with the sexes standing next to their own, in solidarity. I really liked this one.

      And then a picture of the bride and groom with the grandpas. My bowed back about to give out at any moment— as I was trying to hit that angle that made my ass look bigger, but really just ended up pulling a muscle. Z’s grandpa, or azizi as D called him, is highly respected in their community. He’s the guy in charge of waking up early and reciting the call of prayer every day. If he can’t do it for some reason, then his wife, Grandma-no-touch-me, steps in and does it. Apparently, she had to do it the morning of the bachorlette party, which is why she was falling asleep towards the end of the night.



     Here are my sweeties. First, there’s Diego From the City. He didn’t go to the wedding, only the reception, so the shorts and scruff are totally acceptable. His skin, so soft. His thighs, so thick. His brain, so big. Ohhhh-kay, moving on.

     The second guy, who was a friend of a friend, looked like the Tunisian version of Mark Ruffalo. But it wasn’t just his looks that attracted me, it was the way he carried himself. His slinky body, mannerisms, and way he glided across the floor that totally suggested a gay bone. He was gentle and kind, and really smart, speaking English better than any other person there. I smelt gayness and tried my hardest to befriend him, hoping that maybe I’d get my wedding BJ, but he smelt gay back and knew that I was trouble. Not wanting to draw negative attention, he kept his distance and we played a game of cat and mouse the entire wedding. Or maybe he was just straight? Either way, I’d give him my green card. 



      This morning I’m feeling nostalgic for Tunisia. Sweet D sent me a link to the professional photos from from the wedding, so I reached in my tea box (thank you Dubai hotel for that one), pulled out the pine nuts, and made myself a cup of Moroccan mint (the secret to getting it just right is putting three, heaping scoops of sugar inside). All day is going to be Tunisia memories. 

      This morning I’m feeling nostalgic for Tunisia. Sweet D sent me a link to the professional photos from from the wedding, so I reached in my tea box (thank you Dubai hotel for that one), pulled out the pine nuts, and made myself a cup of Moroccan mint (the secret to getting it just right is putting three, heaping scoops of sugar inside). All day is going to be Tunisia memories.