I was counting how many days I’ve worked straight and today was #29! Twenty-nine god damn days.  I’ve hit a point now where I’m just numb to it, although there are a few instances where I’m walking up to a table and all I wanna do is step around it and continue walking out the door, down the escalator, to the parking garage, get in my car, lock the doors and scream, but then I think about all the moola I’m making and how it’d be nice to maybe buy something flashy, like a piece of gold, at the airport in Dubai while I’m on my 16 hour layover to Tunisia. Something flashy, yeah, that sounds nice. 
     Well, by the divine grace of God I have my first day off tomorrow and I’m celebrating by getting sloppy! Ron Ron invited me to a house party in the HIlls. Apparently the host’s boyfriend is out of town, hence no tagging, so he’s throwing a little gathering. I don’t give a shit, just show me to the bar! 

      I was counting how many days I’ve worked straight and today was #29! Twenty-nine god damn days.  I’ve hit a point now where I’m just numb to it, although there are a few instances where I’m walking up to a table and all I wanna do is step around it and continue walking out the door, down the escalator, to the parking garage, get in my car, lock the doors and scream, but then I think about all the moola I’m making and how it’d be nice to maybe buy something flashy, like a piece of gold, at the airport in Dubai while I’m on my 16 hour layover to Tunisia. Something flashy, yeah, that sounds nice. 

     Well, by the divine grace of God I have my first day off tomorrow and I’m celebrating by getting sloppy! Ron Ron invited me to a house party in the HIlls. Apparently the host’s boyfriend is out of town, hence no tagging, so he’s throwing a little gathering. I don’t give a shit, just show me to the bar! 


     My sister-in-law sent me a picture of Baby Isla and said, “Hey Uncle Jim! I know you don’t like leopard print but maybe I can change your mind.” She most certainly did! On this lil’ kitten, it looks phenomenal! I’m in love.
     Isla is doing great. She’s growing so fast and almost sitting up on her own! Soon she’ll be saying I love you to Mommy and Daddy then texting and then dating and then ignoring Mommy and Daddy and slamming the door and then graduating and traveling and then back to saying I love you to Mommy and Daddy. And I am blessed that my family and friends include me in this process because Lawd knows I want it for myself. I’m lucky to be surrounded by such perfect angels! Now go get Uncle Jimmy a Maker’s. On the rocks. With a splash of water! Hey! Don’t you give me that look. Atta girl. 

     My sister-in-law sent me a picture of Baby Isla and said, “Hey Uncle Jim! I know you don’t like leopard print but maybe I can change your mind.” She most certainly did! On this lil’ kitten, it looks phenomenal! I’m in love.

     Isla is doing great. She’s growing so fast and almost sitting up on her own! Soon she’ll be saying I love you to Mommy and Daddy then texting and then dating and then ignoring Mommy and Daddy and slamming the door and then graduating and traveling and then back to saying I love you to Mommy and Daddy. And I am blessed that my family and friends include me in this process because Lawd knows I want it for myself. I’m lucky to be surrounded by such perfect angels! Now go get Uncle Jimmy a Maker’s. On the rocks. With a splash of water! Hey! Don’t you give me that look. Atta girl. 


     I didn’t shut the door tight enough on the industrial washing machine (gotta get that “hair gel” stain off my comforter) and suds started leaking all over the floor. I offered to help Cynthia clean it up but she said, “No. I clean.” Embarrassed and needing to escape, I walked next door to Peet’s Coffee for a Freddo. Mimi, the overly friendly cashier with a coffee ground stuck between her canine and incisor, asked if I worked at In-N-Out. “No,” I said. “My uncle visited a few years ago and bought me this as a gift. He got himself one, too.” She went on. “Oh. I don’t think I’d wear that shirt out,” she said. “Maybe to bed as a moo-moo, but not in public.” I started laughing. “Well, bonjour,” I said as I put $2 dollars in her tip jar then walked over to the counter to wait for my Freddo.

     I didn’t shut the door tight enough on the industrial washing machine (gotta get that “hair gel” stain off my comforter) and suds started leaking all over the floor. I offered to help Cynthia clean it up but she said, “No. I clean.” Embarrassed and needing to escape, I walked next door to Peet’s Coffee for a Freddo. Mimi, the overly friendly cashier with a coffee ground stuck between her canine and incisor, asked if I worked at In-N-Out. “No,” I said. “My uncle visited a few years ago and bought me this as a gift. He got himself one, too.” She went on. “Oh. I don’t think I’d wear that shirt out,” she said. “Maybe to bed as a moo-moo, but not in public.” I started laughing. “Well, bonjour,” I said as I put $2 dollars in her tip jar then walked over to the counter to wait for my Freddo.


Paris, Pudding, Cancer, Catechism

     Last night I met up with Ronnie to have dinner at one of our favorite places in WeHo, Fresh Corn Grill. The food is tasty, but more importantly, there’s always a herd of gay men. We were standing in line waiting to order when Ronnie pointed out the Mercedes key chain in the guy’s hand in front of us. He and I scan differently: while I look to see which hand the watch is on, he looks to see what brand it is. Ronnie waited at the counter for our wine as I grabbed a table. The place was packed with plaid Bermuda shorts and tank tops, but I found an available table in the back. I sat down and put our number on the edge.

     The guy who was in front of us earlier stood at the dirty table next to me, deciding if he was going to sit down or wait for the busboy.

     “You can sit here if you’d like,” I said.

     “Oh, are you by yourself?” he asked.

     “No, I’m waiting for my friend. But our table is big enough.”

     “That’s alright,” he said and then continued looking for a different table.

     Ronnie arrived with the wine.

     “Lily is here,” he said as he sat down. “Don’t act like a fool.”

      Great. That bitch. Ronnie and Ms. Collins have been good friends since grade school, but ever since that time he canceled lunch with me to meet up with her, I started a friendly rivalry and promised that if I ever met her I’d call her an asshole.

     “Hi, nice to meet you,” she said stretching out her hand. “I’m Lily.”

      “Hello,” I said cordially. “I’m Jim.” She was too sweet to call an asshole, so I kept it professional. She was with her mom and they chatted with us for a second, but I was completely uninterested. I was too busy thinking about that guy I talked to earlier. I spotted him through the window and we made eye contact. He nodded and I waved.

     Ronnie and I had just ordered dessert when he walked up to our table. He confidently, but clumsily, scooted past my chair and sat down at the table, dropping his jacket in the process. He was trying his hardest to be cool, but obviously nervous.  

     “I’m Tommy,” he said. He was 41, from New York, with a nose that Ronnie swore had work done. The conversation was honest yet awkward. It’d bounce from Catechism to pudding to cancer to Paris. When Ronnie stepped away to use the restroom, Tommy reached for my hat and lifted it off my head.

      “I just wanna see what you’re hiding under there,” he said.

      “A brain,” I said calmly. “Wow, that was ballsy of you to do.” It was the nicest adjective I could find because what I really wanted to do was stab him in the neck with my fork.

     “I’m from New York,” he said as though I had complimented him on his brazenness.

     “Hmph, well that was a very L.A. thing to do,” I said then reached for my hat and put it back on my head.

      He felt like a douche and apologized, to which I just smiled. Ronnie finally returned and we said our good-byes.

     “Well, let’s exchange numbers,” he said as he pulled out his phone. Of course, like the true searcher of stories I am, and a single 33 year-old gay man, I gave him my number. 


12:13 a.m. I just closed down the bar and am leaving when I run into a gaggle of cool kids sitting on the curb outside the restaurant admiring the solar eclipse. They’re high and under blankets and in love and saying things like, “It just looks so pure,” when I put in my two bits.


     We took them to IKEA today so Mama and Papa could buy some frames for a project they’re doing. While the parents shopped around, I took the kids on an adventure. One of my favorite things to do with babies is carry them around the room pointing at everything and saying, “That’s a coat hanger! You’ve never seen one of those before. And that’s a wine glass! Oh, and look at the feather duster! Wanna play with it? Sure, go ahead!” Imagine all the exciting things you see for the first time. 

  •  I put one in a plastic bag. Thought it would be cute until he tipped over and patrons walking by saw me pulling a baby out of a plastic bag.
  • Fed them their first ice cream cone and taste of pizza! They loved it! They’d whine every time I pulled it away from their mouth. What are guncles good for but to spoil their nephews? It was all fun and games until Huck puked on me. That lil’ Mother Hucker.

     Cutest babies ever! And guess what? My godson, Sullivan King, is grasping things and eating with his left hand! We got a lefty on our hands and I couldn’t be happier. Well, I’d be happier if he pooped gold nuggets instead of stinky turds, but it’s all good.

      You can already see their different personalities. Sullivan is more reserved, an intellectual, a studier who enjoys sitting with the adults. The other, Huck Hild, is outgoing, charming, and adventurous. While Sullivan is sipping tea with the adults, Huck is crawling around looking for the nearest cord or outlet to see how it works.