Where Is Our Future Together?

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The closeted gaysian jock boy with body issues started sending me texts for no particular reason around noon. I sent him a picture of Tim Tebow. He said the Teebs was stacked, I told him to get crucial and hit the gyms in WeHo. His self esteem can't be that low if he's willing to put 80 grand on horses every weekend. I wanted to tell him to skip lunch for two weeks, throw up his dinner for three, and to concentrate really really hard on being thinner and more white if his tiny little gaysian mind could handle that, but thought it might be too soon. I'd ordinarily call that #racist, but this douche makes snide comments about my "annonymous hookups" as though there weren't a highly discerning filtering process. He's a crashing lout, and genuinely insecure about not being white so it's kinda cool to fuck with him on that.

Pretty pissed off generally that it's so monumentally fucking hot in Los Angeles. I'm forced to localize my luncheons to nothing more than what's situated at lobby level or god forbid the cafeteria. I don't even know if I'm allowed back in that hot mess after I ordered my last meal and reminded the server that I'm a human, not a water buffalo and to go easy on the portions.

I'm also persona non grata at the the Thai place with a  predictably clever name across the street after telling them that if they're going to run out of tofu in the middle of the lunchtime rush, then they might as well be a McDonalds.

I figure I have about 2 months left before I'm physically kicked the fuck back to Seattle.