newest entry contact quien es nico? a links page Antes: 2005 2004 2003 2002 2001 2000 I also do stuff over at livejournal: the insufficient blog otro lugares: absorbacon abstractnixon aiyah amateur gourmet amazing adventures of bill appetites archerr bill and kent blockade boy center of gravitas cheap blue guitar chocolate and zucchini comics 212 designer blog dogpoet edwin how to learn swedish hungry tiger i make things i was just really very hungry insequence island of misfit toys lady, that's my skull mysterysteps news from me old grey poet once upon a tart postmodernbarney precocious curmudgeon pretty, fizzy, paradise roar of comics something old, nothing new stop touching my food strange maps super underwear perverts there are some who call me tim tinman tmb ultrasparky diaryland diaryland profile ringsurf gay diary previous next random list join |
The Insufficient Homosexual Stories from a man who fails to meet media expectations of what it means to be gay: |
lunes 04/26/2004 Three storyettes that at first glance would appear to be about food, but aren�tuno I gave into my semimonthly In-N-Out craving a few weeks ago, indulging in a number one (a double double with grilled onions, fries, and a lemonade). Like every In-N-Out in existence this one was crowded with a constant long line of cars stretched out behind the drive thru, but since it was a newer place, there was a fairly large seating area inside, as equally crowded as outside, with tourist families and car-less kids from the local Jr. and high schools which seems had just let out for the day. I sat near an odd guy, who if we were in Hollywood instead of in the middle of suburbia, I would have assumed was a hustler. Who knows, maybe male gigolos do hang out in burger joints in the middle of the San Gabriel Valley, or maybe (and more likely) I was just misreading the situation. Mr. potential hustler was a white guy of a vague age, it would not had been surprising to find out he was anywhere from his late twenties to his late forties. His bleached blond hair was cut very short and his face was somewhat worn, hard and arrogant; but if my assumption about his career was correct, it was his body and not his face that he depended on for a living. He was a mass of muscles barely constrained in an overly small and tight muscle-T, even tighter jeans, and OP flip-flops. The shirt showed off his upper body, and an odd pattern of acne scars which could possible indicate that his size was chemically assisted, or it could have just meant that he had had a problem with pimply arms and back. As I ate my burger, he argued with someone on his cell phone, grumbling loudly in a Russian accent that it was their fault that he had to wait for his next client in the middle of nowhere. Realizing that people were starting to look at him, he walked out side of the restaurant to yell some more, but left his soda and a general science textbook at his table. I finished eating and left before the client showed, so maybe he was in fact a tutor. If so, he was the oddest one I have ever seen. I assume most tutors don�t have the body language of a sexual predator, or appear as if they could be had for the right price. Then again, maybe they do and could. dos During the birthday dinner I wrote about last entry for my former boss Aldo, he asked the table which place had the best buffet in Vegas. He got three simultaneous answers of �Belagio.� His wife was pleased by the answer, but I suspect he may have been hoping to hear a cheaper response. tres I left work early one day last week, giving up on the idea that I was healthy and submitting to illness. However, instead of heading directly to home and bed, I stopped and ate a late lunch at Mikoshi, a generic ramen place near USC. I was trying to be miserable and sickly eating my chicken ramen in quiet and solitude, but a couple of guys seated in the table behind me were a little too loud for me to successfully engage in my self-pity illness act. I managed to ignore them through most of my lunch, but well, as I mentioned, they were fairly loud. One of the guys asked �Why is this place was so busy when there was a Fat Burger across the parking lot?� To which his friend answered back, �The real question is how can the Yoshinoya across the street stay in business, when half the customers here are cops. You know that wherever cops hang out the food is good.� A few minutes later, they started arguing over whether a man who had just left the restaurant was a police officer/detective or not. I thought the guy�s gun and badge made it obvious that he was, but I guess they didn�t see his waist, because they were discussing the man�s hat; although personally I thought that also made the man�s profession obvious. I mean who else would wear a gray suit and matching fedora? More later, nico oyendo: A collection of Frank Sinatra standards want: for someone to crack my back elsewhere: esotericdiversions <<batter fried flowers:::: � 2000-2007 |