Most nights at my delivery job, I experience a series of “I wanna quit right now”, and “I hate this”, and “Secret Clinical Strength Stress Sweat deodorant really phoning it in” – type moments.
Recently, I had a conversation with a girl in her early twenties who looked like she just woke up at 8pm, the two of us standing in the doorway of her ginormous Hollywood Hills home — about how delivery driving “isn’t like, the worst job you could have”. I agreed, like a proper second class citizen. And neither of us could come up with any examples of heinous-er occupations. I said “Yeah. It’s… pretty… um. It can be fun…”
She closed the door of the home her billionaire father built for her. Well, first he bought the $8M lot, demolished the house on the property, and constructed her a nice new $12M one. Like ya do. It’s literally Monopoly come to life around there.
And I’m the iron, just trying to get a house on Mediterranean.
OK, so I’m not a babies person. I don’t coo over spit up and “oopsies!” about poopsies. I’m that girl testing different nail polishes at Target, hearing a kid throw down a tantrum, thinking “OH. See? It is so hard to raise kids. Now… should I do a hot pink for winter…” And if I catch a whiff of poopy diaper, I will gag. I literally have to breathe through my mouth and find the nearest exit. I’m almost gagging thinking about it.
But, I am deeply in love with my sister’s kids. And not just cuz they have my same coloring, and I hope they think I’m the “fun” Aunt someday.
No. It’s because my sister Les loves them so much. And I love her so much. And I can almost relive our own childhood through these new people. These very tiny people, named Hudson and (NKOTB) Hadley. I now have the complete set.
It’s been a bonkers few weeks, lately. Ervin and I have opposite schedules, so we decided to get lunch together one Saturday afternoon. (Hi, yes. We live together. Oh, life!)
I had recently watched Anthony Bourdain trip around Koreatown on TV one nite, digging into some giant steamed buns at Myung In Dumplings. Best buns In LA. Of course, I made a note of it in my phone, under “Go To Here”. I first tried this type of bun in Portland, OR. It was like *the perfect food* for Fall (Sorry, mac n cheese. And soup. And pumpkin spice everything) because it’s warm, it’s comforting, there’s something in the middle of it, and you can hold it in your hands like a baby bird.
A really fat one.
I remember seeing these buns at little street carts when I lived in the Lower East Side of NYC (basically Chinatown). I wasn’t ready for them to come into my life. I thought “GROSS. A lightly sweet bun with PORK in the middle of it? I’m from Pennsylvania! We put SWEET things inside sweet things! Or potatoes!” Continue reading