Leslie Sbrocco: what? what's the matter? don't you want to cum all over my tits?
Jen R: i don't like your dream anymore again.
me: sorry.
Jen R: you know what's the most extraordinary thing about Check Please!? somehow all the so-called "locals" you get on the show to review the dishes are these charismatic vibrant vivacious characters who speak and move around and carry on like seasoned stage actors and actresses!!! how do you do that? how do you accomplish that? how do you achieve that?
Leslie Sbrocco: we got the same talent scout as The Outer Limits from 1995. i swear to you these foodies are plucked off the street, they are RANDOM DENIZENS of San Francisco. a restaurant with neon lights? that is so old hat. i don't wear hats. call the Chromebook Chef and move on.
Dirg: is San Francisco a failed city?
Leslie Sbrocco: not now, bitch.
Leslie Sbrocco: i looked at all the other Check Please iterations of the PBS show throughout the country, there's one in Kansas City, one in New Orleans, and one simply for The Northeast. i am BY FAR the hottest host out of all of them, i mean it's not even close.
Jen R: not to toot your own horn.
me: Leslie, you have a nice tooter.
Leslie Sbrocco: Check Please Bay Area cleans up in the ratings. i challenge ANYONE to show me a better place to live. when you think and write Bay Area, you don't think of any other Bay Area but the San Francisco Bay Area, there's no other Bay Area anywhere in the world that's worthy of that global moniker.
Obama: hey remember MY show? i was on Check Please Bay Area as a guest food blogger. remember the three dishes i tried?
Leslie: i voted for you but i do remember that you thought all three risottos were a little dry...
Leslie Sbrocco, squeezing the juice from a Chicago beef sandwich: it's not au jus until it's pressed against with my fucking thumb wearing a silver ring and purple-black fingerpolish. you're not supposed to eat a sandwich, you're supposed to DRINK A SANDWICH.
Leslie Sbrocco sipping her advertised accredited box of wine that's in a martini coupe mixed with two droplets of greasy beef-sandwich juice: adds tone, toner fluid. my gams are toned but PBS won't let me show them, they have to hide behind a table like Lily from AT&T. fine-dining restaurants don't have repeat customers.........cos they're too expensive. the neighborhood? family atmosphere? family-friendly atmosphere? there's something so dark, so depressing, so forlorn and foreboding, when a restaurant permanently closes...
Vin Scully: it's never a good idea to have ANY sports being played on April Fools' Day. especially sporting events that are championships...
Mayhem promposal: darn it? who says darn it anymore?
Pete Davidson: i'm not on social media.........let that sink in, think about that for a minute. it's been a minute. i just want a private life like everyone else. all i'm doing is dating my coworkers. being on SNL made me feel like the NBA, Too Small.
Artichoke Festival: the birthplace of revolutionary stand-up comedy.
me: i don't drive. now i can't drive.
Outer Limits: when an episode has EVERYTHING...
E.R. Fightmaster: i fight for trans rights. but i also fight to get ER back on the air from the set of Grey's Anatomy!!!
Elizabeth Threatt: why did i do only one film? you do the math, a Native American Indian in the film industry. my last name...
Nabiyah Be: i sing therefore i am. i simply.........came into being. i can sing better than that skinny-ass Elvis white girl. i'm a prophet.
Statue of David: i'm holding the pouch of my sling, not my foreskin...
robo-wars at an inner-city high school: i mean it's better than gang wars, right? a robotics class, computer science, it's better than Metal Shop, right?
Michella Chester: oh my last name...
children: we like Junie B, Jones. but Junie B. Jones sucks, you know? we want to be challenged.
Heather Graham in her Outer Limits episode "Resurrection": all living beings must eventually leave the care and comfort of their providers, it is an immutable fact of human existence.........take my human parents, for example...
Mardith: why do all these travel blogger chicks smile all the time on their posts? what's there to smile about? 34 first dates in 19 countries is a nightmare...
Anthony Bourdain: tell me about it...
i'm sweating on this chilly night trying to be chill. i'm nervous and flop-sweaty and i just want to say and do the right thing, this may be the last time i ever see Jen R. i take her up to the blue treehouse in the aqua-blue hill that doesn't read on a dark night.
Jen R: be cool like a Sweathog. imagine marrying a librarian like me, you need books to prevent you from making life-altering stupid decisions at night. be like Bob Mackie, i rather wish that you wouldn't die.
Jen R looks so beautiful with the blue moonlight as her spotlight poking a hole through the roof of the treehouse strewn with bistro lights.
me: i can only make out your face, which is a good thing. i've never seen myself naked. here, i got you this unicorn box for the occasion.
Jen R: relax, it's just me.
and she was right, i realized how lucky i was to be in the presence once more of a person, a being, i felt comfortable with. Jen. it had been SO LONG. oh this was a special night. i hoped to fuck the haze of eternity wouldn't blot out my memory of moments. a moment running in real time.
me: i let down my guard with you. i fancy myself a Medieval knight all buttoned up in my suit.
Jen R wears a Bernie 2024 button in her hair.
me: LET'S MAKE LOVE. there i said it. notice how i didn't use the word sex or fuck.
Jen R: are you sure you're ready for commitment like this? i mean we won't know how we feel about each other like a week from now, you know? how do we know? it could be totally different. we could be SICK of each other by then. i'm a bit flakey, flighty, flimflammy, wishywashy.........no that's not it, it's just, well, let's just say i get DISTRACTED easily. i go on tangents. it's the drugs.
me: of course. i know. that's part of my calculation. i couldn't love you if you weren't a druggie. we get each other. i've never made love before, i've never inserted CARE into my fucking. i've never respected someone i've boned. run away with me.........just not now right at this moment.
Jen R: want the Chromebook to record us?
me: i hope by posterity you mean our own kids. nah, we're supposed to be living with LESS COMPUTER, right?
Jen R is naked all wrapped up tight in her pink antique grandma sweater. she looks like a little burrito, it's funny more than sexy which is perfect, which is perfect Jen. i unfold it, i unspool it, and i get into the burrito naked with her.
we've successfully ditched the neon blanket attached hooked up to the wire of heating pads with '80s click-buttons. we are now ONE inside her gloriously-stitched pink grandma antique sweater unspooling with each thrust and needling itself back together again with each hug forever...
me: i'm gonna be honest with you.
Jen R: i wish you were honest before all this.
me: i was HAPPY when i first found out you were getting a divorce. i WANTED you to get a divorce. does that make me a bad person?
Jen R: yes.
me: sorry. i am sorry. i am truly sorry. i literally can't help myself when it comes to you.
Jen R: figuratively, too.
Jen B: ...
Jen R: forever doesn't have to last forever, forever can be a treehouse.
me: as long as you keep asking me, "what's next?," i know i'm on the right road.
Jen R: the left road.
me: you heal me with your mere presence. you hug me up with your huggy, i feel hugged-up. you calm me, my soul aches less when you're around, our talks fuel my desire to keep going. everything is okay when you're here with me, life is not hopeless, YOU ARE HOPE. you.........complete me.
Jen R: aren't you glad my name is Jennifer and not Hope?
me: i'm not thinking about my taxes when i look into your eyes...
me: I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU, JEN R.
Jen R cupping her chin with the hand of her pointy elbow tip leaning at a slant: thanks, hon.
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