Terrible Babysitters



tommy kha

D’Arcy and Michael have always been stars, in the sense that they star in things for a living.

I have a feeling those stars are about to get a little brighter.

Watch this, fags – they know how to write comedy.

I meant to say ‘brothers’ instead of ‘fags.’ Old habits die hard.

Stop judging me and watch.




A Special Man


Phil was a special man.


erwin caluya

Her: Hey. I read that.

Me: What?

Her: That book. Are you reading Bossypants?

Me: Oh! Yes. I love it. I think Tina Fey is inspiring.

Her: Yes. It certainly seems like she’s carved out her own path. So what are you doing here, at a bar, in the middle of the afternoon?

Me: Ha. Good question. I was just thinking the same thing…

Her: Ah. But that’s not an answer.

Me: I’m waiting for a date.

Her: Oh. Very nice.

Me: That remains to be seen.

Her: Oh? First date?

Me: Yeah. First date. I’ve never met him.

Her: Is it a blind date?

Me: Sort of? I don’t think people do that anymore. I met him online.

Her: That sounds so exciting. The prospect of meeting a stranger online in real life. That’s not something someone from my generation does very easily. It seems scary.


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No Straight Potential

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I was feeling lonely in LA.

Some blog followers and former students pointed me to these guys.

They were very sweet to me, and we played cards all night long.

Gays helping gays. The most beautiful thing in the world.

That, and the Asian kid from Walking Dead. He’s also beautiful.

If you’re feeling lonely, I suggest you invest in your community.

Maybe that’s starting a gay poker game.

Maybe that’s joining a gay improv theater.

Maybe that’s auditioning for a community theater play, or doing a stand up open mic.

Point is, once you start saying yes to yourself, and other people, the world opens right on up.

Invest in yourself. Invest in your community. Side by side. All together. In harmony.




Repost! 🙂




Him: We should have shots! Have you ever had a Bitchy Drag Queen?

Me: No. I mean, yes, but no.

Him: What? You’re weird.

Me: I know. So tell me more about you. What’s your dating life been like, so far?

Him: Oh. I like older guys. Older. Like, you’re probably too young for me. Like older guys.

Me: I get it.

Him: Old. Like much older.

Me: Okay.

Him: Like the last guy I had really good sex with was 50.

Me: Okay. Yes. I get it.

Him: But he was ripped,  you know? And hot. Older guys are hotter.

Me: If you say so. I’ll buy it, I guess.

Him: There’s something else about older guys too…

Me: What’s that?

Him: They don’t seem to care. 

Me: About what?

Him: I can’t put my finger on it. It’s like they’ve been there already, and they’re not…

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LA Story #1



pie photos by tommy kha

Him: It’s so nice to finally meet you. I hope you don’t think I was Twitter stalking you.

Me: Oh, thanks. Thank you! You too. No, I asked to meet up with readers on the West Coast.

Him: I’m not a stalker.

Me: Yep. Nope. You’re all good. Thanks for meeting with me.

Him: How are you loving L.A.?

Me: It’s okay. I was handled for a few days, when I first got here. That felt weird.

Him: What do you mean?

Me: I had to go to quite a few meetings with people that asked me a lot of questions about myself.

Him: Oh that’s right. How did that go?

Me: I can’t say. I signed an NDA.

Him: Ah. A non-disclosure agreement. You can’t talk about specifics.

Me: Right. But I still don’t have a job, for sure.

Him: That’s standard.

Me: Right.


Him: But, are you getting along okay?

Me: Yes. I’m having fun and it’s nice to see familiar faces from the old days at UCB. It’s strange though, in a different context – you know?

Him: How so?

Me: I associate all these faces with camaraderie and the days when I was getting good at comedy and it really felt like it was just fun with my friends.

Him: But, that’s a good thing, right?

Me: Yeah, it is. But, there’s also this… underlying… LA-ness… that seems to permeate everything here.

Him: What do you mean?

Me: Well, I was talking to a very beautiful young woman at a party, and we were discussing the progressive movement. She was very well read, and very articulate. She was telling me though, that people in LA aren’t as progressive as they seem on the outside – which didn’t surprise me. The same is true of New York in different ways. Sometimes I have to share the comedy stage with comics that won’t even say the word ‘gay.’

Him: I don’t believe that!


Me: They usually say ‘you guys.’ Some guys won’t play women onstage, even in an improv scene.

Him: That doesn’t sound very progressive!

Me: Neither is the world!

Him: Michael. Sure it is!

Me: I’m excited that Obama mentioned us in the inaugural address. That’s something. But we’ll see if that’s just lip-service. No other president has ever done something like that.

Him: Is that true?

Me: I don’t know; I’m just making that up. But it sounds true.

Him:  Haha. Okay but you have to admit, this town is more progressive than New York.

Me: I’m not sure I agree with you.

Him: How so?

Me: Well take this pink hoodie I’m wearing for example? My lucky sweatshirt.

Him: Okay.


Me: I can wear this hoodie anywhere in NYC I want to go. It has never given me a problem in East New York, or Bed Stuy, or Spanish Harlem. It works in Chelsea just the same as the South Street Seaport.

Him: So?

Me: So, every audition and meeting I wear  this sweatshirt to in LA, people urge me to take it off before I go into the room. They seem almost mortified for me to be wearing it. Not only that but a casting director told me that he was looking for ‘gay, but not that gay.’

Him: That’s just typing. They’re looking for a specific type.

Me: I get that. But, I also think that this is the type of town where it’s totally fine to be gay, as long as you don’t hold hands with a guy in the wrong neighborhood. That’s weird to me.

Him: Is it? That sounds naive.

Me: Well then maybe I’m naive.


Him: Michael, you’re an actor. Do you really want to look gay?

Me: Yes. I’m a comic first. I like doing comedy because I can be and do whatever I want. I can say whatever  I want as long as it’s funny. And on my blog I don’t even have to be funny.

Him: Maybe not in this town?

Me: Maybe not? I’m just getting the lay of the land. I always thought comics and musicians have a certain privilege. If the song is good; if the joke is good – you can say whatever you want.

Him: I’m not sure.

Me: Neither am I. I’ve only been doing comedy for 17 years. That’s nothing.

Him: Are you being sarcastic?

Me: Sincere. Thanks for Twitter stalking me. What about that song “All the little kids with the pumped up kicks?”

Him: I like that song.

Me: It’s about a school shooting.

Him: Yikes! Michael, I’m really glad you’re here.


Me: Oh, sorry. I’m glad to be here. 95% of my interactions here have been really nice. I just like to focus on the awful stuff. It’s a real problem. I like you. You’re a nice guy. You have beautiful eyes, and you’ve shown me kindness. I don’t care if people are nice to me, but kindness is something I really dig on.

Him: I think if you give it a chance, you’ll find that LA is a lot more progressive than you think.

Me: Really?

Him: Yeah. Really.

Me: Thanks, buddy.

Him: Sure.

(pause. a carload of west coast d-bags drive by…)

West Coast D-Bags: FAGGOTS!!


Us: B’wahahahahahahahahaha!



Starbucks, Part 2


Him: Ew. I can’t believe you took me to Starbucks.

Me: You’re welcome.

Him: Did it sound like I was thanking you?

Me: Oh, no – not by any means. But I did pay for your Chai tea.

Him: Wow. I guess you want a hand job now or something?

Me: Uh. No. That’s fine.

Him: I give good hand jobs.

Me: That’s great.

Him: Oh, sorry – maybe you want to go have procreative sex with a woman instead.

Me: I can assure you that I don’t want to do that. Well… Maybe…


Me: I mean, I don’t necessarily want to have sex with a woman. I’ve just been feeling a tug toward raising a kid lately. It’s not even a real thing. I don’t have the money I would need to raise a kiddo.

Him: Let me guess, you work with straight people too.

Me: I work with a mix of people, but yes, they’re mostly straight.


Him: Ew.

Me: Ew?

Him: Ew, I find that distasteful. Everyone I work with is gay, on purpose.

Me: What?

Him: We only hire gay people. Plus, one black lady we thought was a lesbian but just had a short haircut.

Me: You only hire gay people to work in your graphic design department?

Him: That’s right.

Me: That’s illegal.

(long pause)

Him: I suppose you work alongside straight people.

Me: I do.

Him: Shudder. Did you like that? I’m announcing my shudder.

Me: I…

Him: How can you do that? How can you work with them?

Me: I have to? I do comedy. I don’t know of many comedy venues that are solely LGBT.

Him: You could be a drag queen.

Me: With these shoulders? Hardly.

Him: Hahahahaha! You said something funny! I’m surprised.

(long pause)

Me: Thanks.


Him: I can’t do it. I can’t work alongside them. No. No, thanks. They’re so privileged  and they don’t even know it. They’re awful.

Me: They’re wonderful.

Him: Don’t they say condescending things?

Me: No. They’re usually supportive.

Him: What about when you mention gay rights?

Me: I don’t think very many of them are connected to the issue.

Him: Right. And I suppose you don’t remind them of the reality? That most teen suicides are gay teen suicides? That, in most states, the family will take an inherited estate away from a long term gay partner? That there’s still no such thing as federal immigration equality when dealing with international gay marriage? That they still beat, intimidate, and lynch us all across the country?

Me: That’s not water cooler talk.


Me: It’s worse in some countries.

Him: Yeah, it is. In Jamaica they’ll straight up kill you, and not go to jail, but is that something I should be thankful for? Should I thank the straight police officer for not lynching me on my way to work? And what about adoption rights? Statistically, it’s more difficult for gay men to adopt children than any other minority group – and that’s a world wide statistic. Never mind the countries where if you’re admittedly gay, adoption is simply out of the question.

Me: Isn’t it a little easier if you’re interested in adopting a non-white baby? Can’t you foster to adopt?

Him: Yes. You can take an AIDS baby from Africa, or a kleptomaniac ten year old from Appalachia if you want. You can have anything the straight people don’t want. You can cut their hair. You can cut their lawn. You can decorate their house. But then you have to get out.


Me: I…

Him: You have to get the fuck out! They don’t want you. They think you’re disgusting. Because your love isn’t good enough. Your love isn’t worth as much – or anything! You don’t get to have the same basic rights and protections they do because they think they’re better than you. No. No thanks. I won’t do it. I won’t work alongside them. Bad enough I have to look at them on the subway.

Me: Hey. I get it. I have anger too.

Him: Anger? Anger. Fuck your anger. That doesn’t even begin to cover my outrage. I’m livid. I’m crawling out of my skin I’m so disgusted with them.

Me: They don’t all believe those things you said.

Him: Most of them do.

Me: How do you know?


Me: Only professionally.


Him: Well, I don’t know what I can do to help you.  If you can’t see what’s right in front of your face then ‘professional idiot’ might be the best move for you.

Me: Hey –

Him: No. Go hang out with your masters. Go lick the boot pressed firmly against your neck.

Me: That sounds pretty dramatic.

Him: What do you want from me?

Me: I just want to talk.

Him: Well are you happy? We talked. Thanks for the shitty Chai. I’m leaving now.


Him: Jerk.




Rice Queen

Here’s a blast from the past. Rice Queen away, my darlings.

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Him:  Hey there.  What’s up?

Me:  Not much.  Just hanging out.

Him:  That kid you were hitting on was really cute.  Was he Chinese?  He looked Chinese.

Me:  I don’t know.  He said he was from New Mexico.

Him:  Yeah but where was he really from?


Me:  I don’t know.  I didn’t ask him the story of his epic family saga.  Maybe he was born in a refugee camp?

Him:  Hot.  Now you’re talking.  But that would make it more likely he was Vietnamese.  He looks Chinese or Korean maybe.

Me:  I’m not well versed enough to make the distinction.

Him:  Oh?  Are you new to Rice?

Me:  What??

Him:  Are you new to the world of Rice Queens?

Me:  Oh man.  I don’t know how to answer that.  That term is so brutal.  I’m not sure I identify with it.

Him:  Why?  Rice is a staple…

Me: …

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