My life is strange.
Just putting that out there.
I tend to get contacted by Gay people these days. Gays that I don’t know.
Gays from strange lands, like Iowa.
That’s Huy.
He’s a college student in Des Moines.
He studies Pharmacology.
That means I get free drugs, right??
Wrong. Apparently Huy has a list of these things called eth-ics (am I pronouncing that right?) that preclude him from giving away drugs to pie men. Apparently, you need to have a reason to take pharmacy drugs?
News to me…
For future reference, my favorite is Ambien, but I had to tell my doctor to not prescribe it anymore, because I have a tendency to take it every night if i have it…
Then I get responses to emails that I don’t remember having sent.
Once, I got a letter from a San Fransisco adoption agency thanking me for my interest and asking me about my finances.
Apparently my baby clock is ticking, especially when I am blacked out on Ambien.
Look at how confident he looks.
You’ll never believe this, but when he arrived, late afternoon, he was trembling.
I hugged him hello and he shook. I held him close to me for a few minutes and said kind, comforting things. Then I stole his credit card from his wallet.
(I was out of toilet paper that day)
Just kidding. I didn’t say anything comforting. Who wants to go shopping??
Just kidding. I said nice stuff about how brave he was to contact me, and volunteer for my bizarre art project.
He called me a role model and said that he respected my ideas about queer liberation, and brotherhood – which made me totes nervous, because most of the time it’s my job to act like an idiot in a room full of drunk people (comedy).
I told him he is very attractive.
He seemed surprised, but thanked me and returned the compliment. Some lie about how salt and pepper stubble is super hot.
He said he wasn’t used to getting a lot of compliments from strangers.
I said that was a shame, because he’s clearly a sexwad.
He wondered aloud what a sexwad is, and I changed the subject.
We switched aprons at a certain point in the baking process.
I wanted to see if I look good in yellow (nope), and I was having identity confusion.
He showed up with a pair of fake glasses, just like mine.
Doesn’t that just kill you, a little, inside?
It does me. It kills me. In a good way.
It rips my heart out.
What a sweet pea.
We spent some time together after the pie making.
He came to Thin Skin Jonny: Farewell Reunion Tour at UCB theater. He also saw the Made Up Musical at the Magnet. We took a walk from Manhattan to Brooklyn, over the Williamsburg bridge. He was super sweet.
He’s totally determined to succeed in the world of pharmacy.
I told him that success in any field is 80% determination and 20% being a nice guy.
He contradicted me and said that you also need talent.
I laughed and laughed and laughed and said, no, you don’t need talent.
Talent… That’s a good one!
Who knew he was a comic, too?
The pie we made was a chocolate mousse with a lemon custard on top.
Looks good, huh?
It was decent, but not entirely successful. I used a wonky custard recipe that leaves out milk from the mix. Also, I over zested the lemon, and it was waaaaay tart.
I’ll try this out again, at some point.
Huy. You’re a beautiful, intelligent, talented young man. You’re kind and you listen.
I loved meeting you. You’re welcome in my kitchen any time. Please keep me informed about your successes.
Anna Paquin, let’s not make this awkward.
I’m a comic and I make jokes.
Take it with a grain of salt and count your considerable ducats.
I’ll take it all back when you come out with your first pop album. Pleeeeeeease record a pop album??
Until then I’ll try to behave myself and not be such a jerk.
Jerks.
(i already told you – out of toilet paper that day)
PIEFOLK 