Today was my big neighborhood event, a cleanup of the streets around Cherrywood Park. It has been bugging me for years that leaves and dirt and everything else just piles up on the street, decomposes, congeals, and grows. I was originally going to go out with a bucket and a spade and spend 30 minutes every Saturday for the next 2 years until it was done, but then I went to a neighborhood Garden Club meeting.

I mentioned to the association leader that I had this idea for a project and he was like, great, can you organize it all? Yeah … I can. So I set out figuring out what to do. First I contacted the city, and that turned into a ton of conference calls. Just to pick up dirt. But I got our congressperson involved with his office, Code Compliance, and Parks and Rec. They have a tool borrowing program, so I got 5 shovels, 5 rakes, 5 brooms, 5 trash pickers, 100 bags, 15 gloves, and a leaf blower delivered to my house on Friday.

We advertised it through the neighborhood association and garden club and about 30 people showed up this morning from 9-11. I thought it would take us much longer, but people really worked hard and scraped up every bit of dirt on the street. They even met with the homeowner whose house we were essentially cleaning and got permissions to trim her shrubs back so you could actually walk on the sidewalk. Am I really the head of the Dallas Walkability Council now?!

It was a lot to put together, but honestly, it wasn’t that bad. Daniel asked me last night as we were going to bed if I was nervous, and I laughed and said YES. Why do I keep doing these kinds of things? Why do I put myself in these situations? And he said, “Because you couldn’t keep your fucking mouth shut at your fucking garden club meeting.” And you just have to admit, he’s totally right. So we’ll see what I end up planning next! Stay tuned!

On Wednesday, September 23, 2026, Daniel’s father, Paul passed away. He had been sick and was in hospice care, but all the same it was unexpected. Paul had moved up to Bellingham to live with his wife, both for better climate and for a little assistance.

Daniel planned a trip to go see him and spend some quality time. They had made reservations at different fancy restaurants for every night of the week. But when he got there, he quickly realized that probably wasn’t happening. The situation was rapidly declining, so he extended his trip and I bought a plane ticket to join him Friday after work so I could help out. Unfortunately, he succumbed to his illness sooner than expected. I changed my ticket to the earliest flight the next day and headed up.

Any way you slice it, it’s about a full day to get up to Seattle and then up to Bellingham. When I landed, I checked the big board for my gate information for my connecting flight only to see the word, “CANCELED.” Not delayed. Just canceled. I was really trying not to be a burden but I was like wtf do I do. His mom will typically not fly between cities, but take a bus charter instead. I got the details for the bus, bought a ticket immediately even if it wasn’t going to work, and then set out trying to figure out where to go. You would think the website would have some instructions, but no. I called the number and this nice man stayed on the line as he walked me through where to go. The bus was waiting and I got on board and not 15 minutes later, we were set out for our 2 hour drive up to Bellingham.

I got there by like 8pm. Daniel met me at the Sheraton 4-Points hotel. We said hi to his mom standing in the rain and then went to our fancy hotel. Everything in Bellingham pretty much shuts down at 9pm, so we had to rush to the restaurant next door, and apologize to the wait staff because we were the last ones there past closing, but they were very nice about it. My goal was to just be a fly on the wall, provide emotional support, and help out in any way I could while the family sorted out the most immediate concerns.

Really, I thought we could have short stints of a nice little weekend, and we did. Bellingham is a cute town, although way far left of my comfort zone – and that’s saying a lot! Our hotel was really nice, overlooking the water, far from the train tracks, and quiet. One morning, we ran into Lucien Laviscount, who played Alfie in Emily in Paris, that godawful TV show. I didn’t recognize him immediately, just said good morning as we passed on the elevator, but then I paused thinking, do I know him? I turned to Daniel and his jaw was on the ground. Rumor is that Tyler Perry was in town filming a movie with John Cena and Michael Buble. We even saw a helicopter over the water performing what looked to be repeated fake rescue operations surrounded by boats potentially housing cameras? When the next Tyler Perry movie comes out we’re going to go see it and if it doesn’t have Lucien in a water rescue scene we’re gonna feel like idiots.

We had some good meals, a few cries, and provided some useful help to his mother. Daniel is the first from our generation to lose a parent, and it was a reminder that we are entering that chapter of our lives. Paul will be deeply missed but always remembered.

I don’t have a lot of time to write because I’ve been challenged by my coworker to a no-holds-barred, loser-buys-the-pitcher, night of bowling. But I couldn’t wait any longer to share with you all what I consider the Top 1 reason to visit Manassas, VA.

If you ever find yourself in this fine town, make your way out to the Sweet Water Tavern. There you should order the pasta jambalaya. ANNNND… the Ghost Town Pumpkin Beer.

First off, it’s a really good pumpkin beer. And I should know because I’ve had a lot of pumpkin beers. Well, not like a whole lot, but probably more than you, bitch. Anyway, this is the best part. The glass came with the rim dipped in graham cracker crumbs! Like a fucking pie crust. It was genius. So delicious.

As soon as I get home, I’m perfecting this on my own. Who wants to come to my pumpkin beer party?

I fucking love Halloween. This year was another holiday in the win column. Ryan S■■■ and I spent the day together, and despite original plans to not dress up, we decided to get something last minute. We had lunch and coffee at Buli, this kickass place down in the gayborhood where they serve your food in a vintage lunch box and employ hotties to serve it to you. While down there we started brainstorming costume ideas. I can’t think of any of our failed ideas, but we finally settled on just wearing some sort of sports uniform. For us, that’s really a costume and not a cop out since neither of us have played a sport in a decade.

We narrowed our decision to Slutty Soccer Players and found some bright pink soccer jerseys and iron on letters. Since every party we were going to was full of queers, it was no problem that our team name was Flamers, I was number 69, and he was number 8.5. Let me just tell you, we looked really authentic. We even had a small soccer ball and ran a few drills in the bar. There was much drinking to be done, so around 9 when Myke from San Marcos (who now lives in Lewisville) and his friend Ryan from Tech showed up we hit the first party. They were both dressed as Slutty Jungle Boys. Too much fun. And I mean too much fun.

I’ve spent the entire day in bed and it has been absolutely fabulous. I just woke up from an accidental nap and I’m feelin fantastic.

I have a favor to ask you all. I have been getting repeated phone calls from someone in the Los Angeles area. They called all the time despite that I never answered. It was annoying when they never left a message, so I finally decided to answer. It’s always some different person who only speaks Spanish, and they are frantically looking for Maria. I’ve explained repeatedly that Maria esta no aqui, but they can’t get that fucking idea through their head. So in retaliation, I’ve decided to release their phone number to the public.

I think it would be funny if all of my girl Sidesho-viewers (like biological girls) called this number and pretended to be the long, lost Maria — especially if you speak Spanish. Guys can call too, and ask for David over and over again or something. Leave me a comment letting me know how it goes. ‘Preciate it.