This weekend, I finally used the gift card Drew got me for our six-month anniversary to buy some stuff at Bed Bath & Beyond. The idea was for me to fix up his spare bathroom, which is now kinda my bathroom, I guess, although it still feels weird to say that since I’m not officially living there and since I have to keep it clean because that’s the bathroom guests use. If it were really my bathroom, there’d probably be dirty underwear all over the floor and mildew in the tub, so maybe it’s good that, except for the spiffy matching tissue box, soap dish, etc., that bathroom remains shared turf.

On Saturday night, Drew took me to his favorite restaurant, Cynthia’s. The food was great. If you go there and you’re me (which you’re not, but play along for a second), don’t be scared by all the fish on the menu. You don’t like fish. (You’re me, remember.) The spicy fried chicken is fish-free and fantastic. The corn fritters are also terrific. Even the chicken and shrimp dumplings, which do contain seafood, are pretty good. Good for you, Jerry, you tried something new. You should be proud.

Okay, you’re you again. And lucky for you, because this is the part where I had too much to drink (again). Yikes, that’s becoming kind of a theme of this blog, isn’t it? I swear, I hardly ever touch the stuff — really! Drew made me drink three martinis at dinner, because, even more than the food, that seems to be what he loves about Cynthia’s. (Drew knows a lot about alcohol. A LOT.)

Of course, I got pretty loopy. Luckily, we had walked there (we’re smart, aren’t we?), but that did mean a long, stumbly walk home, during which I drunk-dialed two friends. That’s always fun. There’s a tip from me to you. If you’re drunk, call a friend who’d appreciate hearing you mumble and say outrageous things that make little or no sense. (Wasn’t I hilarious, Janice?) Just keep in mind that your friend may be in a later time zone and already in bed. (Sorry, Dave.)

On Sunday morning, while out driving, Drew and I witnessed a beautiful sight on the corner of Venice and Fairfax. A young dad was out for a walk with his five-year-old daughter. They waited patiently for the light to change, and then, when they got the WALK signal, Dad lifted his little girl up on his shoulders to give her a lift across the street. It was enough to warm your heart.

And when he turned around, Drew and I saw the slogan printed in block letters on the back of Dad’s t-shirt: “FUCK LOVE”.

That afternoon, we went to lunch with Drew’s friends and his goddaughter, Chloe, who it’s safe to say is developing a distinct case of the Jerrys. After we ate, we went for a dip in the pool, during which time 4-year-old Chloe taught me how to make caramel lollipops, sprinkle cookies and other imagination foods using the pool filter as an oven. When we got out to dry off, Chloe was extremely insistent that she be allowed to watch me change out of my bathing suit. Props to Drew for successfully guarding the door to the bathroom while I put my shorts back on.

After that, it was home again for some writing, cleaning and setting up the new bathroom.

My new bathroom.

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