Dinner at my favorite fast-food joint and boy-watching with my favorite homo last night. Paul and I met after work and took the train to the Chipotle in Boystown, where we spent a few hours sitting at the window filling our guts with faux-Mexican goodness and smiling at all the muscle boys who walked by. We're the perfect boy-watching companions; our tastes in men rarely overlap, and when there's nothing to look at we're never at a loss for interesting conversation.

After we'd had our fill at Chipotle, we waddled over to T.'s salon so I could show him off to Paul. Then it was home to read to the sounds of Rosemary Clooney, Bing Crosby and my rattly old air conditioner.