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.