As many of you know, when in doubt, make a list.
1. I cannot call myself a writer because last night when I was watching a movie and the power went out for 7 hours I got bored really fast.
2. I started reading “Mrs. Dalloway” by candlelight because next I want to re-read “The Hours” because the movie is coming out next month and because it has Julianne Moore, Meryl Streep, and Nicole Kidman in it. Am I a twenty-first century fag or what?
3. Yes, I introduced myself to Mister Latino Daddy at the gym yesterday.
4. Yes, he asked me for my number.
5. Yes, he called me last night and gave me his WORK number.
6. We know what that means.
7. I still want to have wild monkey sex with him.
8. Aimee Mann in less than two weeks.
9. Tomorrow: a wild night of reckless dancing abandon with Aaron, his bf, and Kate. We’ll be the glamorous ones pulling up in my rockin’ Subaru. Mitsubishi and “Days Go By” will be eating their goddamned hearts out as we pop and lock down Harrison St.
10. George W. Bush calls every night, drunk and giddy from “sweeping the nation”, wants to know what I’m wearing. He overnights packages of burquas to me. They’re all inscribed “Don’t Mess With Texas”. I clean my toilet with them.