I had to wake up extra early this morning to attend a mandatory meeting at Job #1. It was to learn about the new drinks we’ll be offering. One of them is a spicy pineapple margarita with jalapeno flavored tequila garnished with red peppers. It tasted like the basement of my old church. One of the other bartenders, a fellow gay who never misses happy hour at Marix Cafe, tasted it then spit it out in the sink.

      “And I never spit,” he said with a disgusted look on his face.

      Right after the meeting I zipped down to Job #2. It was a busy morning so I didn’t have time to flirt with my favorite regulars, a pair of YouTube gamers from Spain. I think they’re gay, but I’m not sure. They could just be really dorky. Or they could be both, which is my favorite. I’ve been trying my hardest to weasel my way into their hearts so that one day they’ll invite me to hang out, but for now they just chuckle uncomfortably when I tell them that I’m so busy I’m “corriendo como una loca.”

     Halfway through my shift, Nayesha’s younger brother sat in my section while he waited for her to get off.  He was sweet and didn’t say much as he drank his Sprite and nibbled on fries. When Nayesha was paying for it, she told me that he thought I was cute.

      “He wanted to know if you’re single,” she said.

     “Oh honey, I don’t date….”

      She raised her eyebrow waiting for me to finish.

      “Young people.”

      “I knew it,” she said. “I told him you were too old.”

     “Just how old is he?”

     “18.”

     “Hot damn Nayesha!” I exclaimed. “That’s illegal in some states.”

      When I got home, I spotted The Georgian’s car parked on my street. He’s still using my old permit and hasn’t gotten a ticket yet. The other day the landlord’s daughter gave me a key because they’re starting to lock the back gate due to a suspicious man that’s been “lingering around.” I didn’t ask for a description, fearing that it might match The Georgian. He doesn’t linger, but he’s been known to sway while peeing in the alley. I told him to just use my bathroom, but he said he doesn’t like my rule of sitting down while peeing. I’m sorry, but have you ever taken a piss in shorts and barefooted? There’s a lot of splattering that I don’t wanna clean up.

      When I got upstairs, I looked out my window and saw that they finally broke ground on the lot behind my apartment. Three years of silence has come to an end. I’m hoping that the jackhammer at 7 a.m. prompts me to get up and start my day, instead of like last time when all it did was make me cover my head and be grumpy. 


$ MONEY $ MONEY $ MONEY $

      If Job #2 scratches my back (lets me have time off for Africa), then I’ll scratch their back (train new people). Yesterday, I trained this sweet, all-American girl from the Inland Empire who had soft brown eyes and a master’s degree in education. She wants to be a music teacher. She’s totally the type of girl I’d date if she were a gay man.

     ”He was mean,” she said about the ex she recently moved in with, but bailed after a week when she realized it wasn’t working out. “He was self-conscious about being short and would try to make it my fault by saying things like, ‘You’re just too tall.’ Ugh, he was…gross.”

      I’ve been talking about my Tunisian trip a lot lately. Actually, it’s all I talk about. So much in fact that the other day Nixxx came up to the service bar and overheard me telling a guest how I plan on staying in the Dubai airport for the first layover, but on the way back I’ll probably take advantage of the free room my travel agent hooked me up with, when she said, “Oh Lord. Not this story again. If I have to hear about Tunisia one more time, I’m gonna…”

      “What?” I asked. “You’re gonna what? Now get out of here. Scram, beat it!” 

       She grabbed her drink and slithered away.

      “So anyway,” I said as I put the woman’s change in her left hand. In her right hand she had a hundred dollar bill.

      “Have fun in Tunisia,” she said as she passed it to me.

      “Whoa,” I said like Kit De Luca did when Vivienne handed her a wad of cash at the end of Pretty Woman. “That’s so generous of you. Thank you so much! You have no idea how helpful this is.” I quickly threw it in my stainless steel champagne bucket with the rest of my tips. “Have you been to Tunisia before?”

     ”I’m from around that area,” she said with a wink then collected her Cartier and David Yurman bags and walked out.

      Fuck yeah woman from somewhere in North Africa! Looks like I’m back on track to buying that nugget of gold in Dubai.


     I’m infested. It’s happened before and it’s happening again…My apartment has ants. They’re everywhere. I’ll wake up and find a trail. I’ll locate the hole and spray it down. I’ll go to work and return to find a new trail. They love food, so I’m constantly wiping down counters and making sure I don’t leave any crumbs behind (yesterday, I followed a trail to a crispy Raisin Bran Crunch flake that had fallen under the table). I’m curious if this is something the landlord should take care of, or will he charge me for it?  I don’t wanna spend any extra money right now, so I’m dealing with it on my own. 

     I’m infested. It’s happened before and it’s happening again…My apartment has ants. They’re everywhere. I’ll wake up and find a trail. I’ll locate the hole and spray it down. I’ll go to work and return to find a new trail. They love food, so I’m constantly wiping down counters and making sure I don’t leave any crumbs behind (yesterday, I followed a trail to a crispy Raisin Bran Crunch flake that had fallen under the table). I’m curious if this is something the landlord should take care of, or will he charge me for it?  I don’t wanna spend any extra money right now, so I’m dealing with it on my own. 


Some Perspective

     Sweet D sent me and her mom an e-mail about the safety in Tunisia. Her Dad was left off the list, which makes me wonder. Maybe she thinks he’s just more junkyard dog than us.  She wanted to clear some things up about what it’s REALLY like living in North Africa. I love the pride in her voice:

     I really don’t want you two to worry. Tunisia is safe, we are going to have an amazing time at a wedding and the beach and my home. Which is in the nicest poshest neighborhood that I have ever lived in. Both of you saw my Savannah apartment. Remember that  a man, his wife, 80 year old mother and dog were all shot in face on the very street corner where I lived.  So please don’t worry, please don’t listen to everything Fox news says about Tunisia. 

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8:02 p.m. on a Saturday night.



It’s hard to tell what’s staged and what’s real nowadays, but these two are totally cute together and should make more videos :) If for anything, to get to know each other better.

(via bunniesbeertittiestattsschlongss)