Before we begin this episode, we have to briefly go back to my Oscar party, because I forgot to write how funny it was.
"Is Kim Novak presenting 'Frozen' because her face is that way?"
"Why is Zac Efron famous?" - from one of the three heterosexual males who was in the group. The women and gays booed him mercilessly.
"You would rather have sex with Anne Hathaway than Daniel Craig? That somehow makes you really gay."
I was behaving myself until the announcer said, "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Charlize Theron and Chris Hemsworth."
Then I turned into an eight-year-old with Tourette's Syndrome.
GOD DAMMIT SHIT FUCK!!!
"Jacob!" my mother yelled. "I am going to start having a swear jar in this house!"
"Why do you swear so much at Chris Hemsworth?" Joey asked.
I didn't have the heart to tell a crowded room why. We'll go with Tourette's. That is perfectly reasonable. And let's be realistic. It's not like Chris Hemsworth reminds me of anybody.
My life always goes to shit in April. I am not saying this to get sympathy. I am blessed. I have loving family and friends, a job with health insurance that I don't entirely suck at, my feet firmly planted into the Minneapolis comedy scene, a 28-inch waist*, the entire series of Roseanne on DVD, and a plethora of eye candy at my disposal.
(*I hate myself for that because I just wrote on the TelevisionWithoutPity.com forums that it bugged the hell out of me on RuPaul's Drag Race when Kelly Mantle bragged about her 28-inch waist. Here we are)
But the fact that April hates me remains. Before I go into details, let me recount the years so you know I'm not just saying this.
2000: Hospitalized for depression
2007: Firm in my realization that I am leaving UW-Stout, my brother informs me that I have been accepted at CUNY Brooklyn College. I have been depressed and numb for the past nine months, so it's like I'm not even there when my father accompanies me on the plane ride and we stay at a Howard Johnson in the ghetto. I apply for Creative Writing as my major and I roll my eyes at the man who goes over my prospective first classes with me.
2008: I drop out of CUNY Brooklyn College, to the surprise of absolutely no one, especially my father and mother, who discouraged me from going and staying, respectively.
2011: I get called a faggot on a party bus for my friend Kristen's birthday and subsequently break my nose at The Saloon when I fall off the whorebox. I wrote about it here.
2013: You were there. That puke stain never really went away, by the way.
But April did have some sunny spots. We'll talk about the end of March first, though.
I have absolutely no social skills. I signed up to do comedy at the Corner Bar on a Friday night. I didn't get on the list, so I decided to walk to Jetset without realizing how cold it was, and I didn't have a coat. A kind man of about fifty started walking next to me and asked me about Minneapolis. He said he was going to the Monte Carlo and I gave him directions. It was only when I got to Jetset that I realized he may have been trying to pick me up, and I could have gotten a free meal out of the exchange. Dammit!
Anyway, Jetset is a place for gays with money and muscles, and I have neither. Feeling insecure, I texted my friend Sean, and he let me stop at his apartment before returning to Jetset with me. My favorite thing about Minneapolis is making friends with extravagant apartments. Sean is the first person I have ever met who has a copy of Madonna's Sex book. When you first go to his apartment, you have to pick your three favorite pictures from the book, and he uses this to judge your entire character for the duration of his friendship with you. I find this to be genius.
We returned to Jetset, and I reunited with Miles and Under Armour, who I find dreamy. But I was still coughing, and Sean had an allergy attack out of nowhere. We were really quite the pair. Remember the weird guys with the nice apartment who I thought stole my phone? They were there and stared me down, and I was flattered that I apparently haven't aged too much in a year and a half. "STOP RUBBING HIM!" one of them yelled at me when I was rubbing Sean's arm in hopes it would it get him to stop sneezing.
I was still feeling under the weather, and I left shortly after Sean did, taking a cab to my own apartment and forgoing The Saloon. I had to work at 9:30 the next morning, and was enjoying my own healthy nighttime snake of EZ-Cheese and Triscuits ...
...When the phone rang. It was Kevin, who was at The Saloon and wanted to know if he could crash at my place. I didn't mind because I was up anyway, but I let him know that we would have to leave the apartment at 9 A.M.
He called again to get directions and showed up at a little after two.
"Can I have mac and cheese?" he asked like a little boy.
"Of course," I said. I had two things of EZ-Mac. Thank goodness, because I screwed up the first one, so the second one had to be used as a back-up.
He laid on the bed. "Come snuggle," he said. "Aren't you gonna have any?"
"I don't eat," I lied.
"That's right," he said. "You're a little bird."
I kept coughing and felt bad about it, so I got up to take some Nyquil and vodka. (Health!) He took his shirt off and patted his tummy. "I don't think I'm that fat," he said. I smiled. And then he went for it.
"If we're dating each other, are we settling?" he asked.
Are we settling? That's ... that's ...
And yet didn't I just write in the last episode that I was fine with the realization that we would never be together?
I am the ultimate emotional hypocrite when it comes to that man. I do not want my cake, but I don't want anyone else to have their cake, either. NO ONE CAN HAVE CAKE.
It was 3 A.M., and I decided I would attempt honesty for the first time in my fake dating life. "Kevin," I said. "We will always be friends but I don't think we will ever be together. When I first met you, I was crazy about you."
(You want proof: HE WAS IN THE FIRST EPISODE OF THIS FAKE SHOW. I even used his real name when I first wrote it because I didn't know he would actually become a character.
Speaking of working out, I fell in love that night on the dance floor. His name was Kevin and he exemplified my ridiculous crush on frat-boy bro-ski types. He was wearing a pouka shell necklace, for God's sake, and I was obviously in love.
"Are you guys from here?" he asked me and Jared. "No one at my work knows I'm gay. It's crazy."
"Forgive me for being so forward," I said. "But what cologne are you wearing? You smell very good."
He said the name of it. I forgot. I do remember that every time he talked to me he insisted on touching my face. He was such a disgustingly appropriate reflection of what "my type" is that I wondered if I had been roofied, or that he was a hologram. I tried to find him again, but he was shirtlessly dancing with another jock-type, and I figured I did not want to be his creeper.)
"You decided you wanted to be with Quinn Sommers. I tried to get over it, and I fell in love with somebody else who I'm still not over. That is where we are."
He didn't say much after that. I got in bed and he held onto me the tightest he has ever had. He was very silent on the way back to his house. I have not heard from him since. I am sad because, much like with another boy, I am in mourning for something that I never even had. I am mourning potential. I am mourning things not said. I am mourning a lack of action and courage on my part. I am mourning my false assumption that boys are psychic and will magically understand how much you love them.
|This poster is by the amazing Kenneth Rodriquez. Contact him if you need shit done for you!|
I kicked off April by doing my first ever half-hour comedy special! It was a fundraiser for Fearless Comedy Productions, who sponsored my Fringe Festival play last summer. Because I am a genius at finding ways to lose money when I do comedy, I got my own hotel room at the airport Hilton the night before. I needed it to write, and to flirt with men on Grindr but then tell them not to come over because my chest hair violently reacted to waxing and it is in Ingrown Hair City! (I know. I can't believe I am single either. I have since purchased Tend Skin, an exfoliating cloth, and a Norelco razor on Amazon. And on that note, I don't know why I'm on the brink of bankruptcy, either)
The half hour was surprisingly a breeze, and it helped me feel more confident as a fake comedian. I got to reunite with Elizabeth Ess, who had two parts in They Shoot 25-Year-Old Gay Men, Don't They? Because this was for a 50-hour comedy marathon, Elizabeth did a stand-up set at 12:30 A.M.! I was beginning to think that 12 noon wasn't such a bad time after all.
Several other people came, including Erin and Robbie, my co-worker Annette, my mom, two girls from high school, and my mom's hairdresser! After the show, my mother gave me her favorite criticism ever, which was "It contained more anal activity than I would have liked." Okay, then.
After that, I was off to St. Paul to do a recording for an episode of Magnotronic, a great local comedy podcast. My episode isn't on the airwaves yet, but it's worth a listen if you're into our local comedy scene, because I'm in some really great company when it comes to their guests.
Also, I should really start doing radio, because this is proof that I cannot work with cameras. What was I even looking at?
After that, I stopped at my mom's house while my apartment had a showing, and Joey, Jared and I reunited at the Eagle, where we sang lovely showtunes and a former drag queen called me retarded. He can go kick rocks.
As for my new place, Jared and I are moving in together this summer!! Loring Park has proven far too expensive for a single gal like myself, so we're getting a beautiful two-bedroom apartment literally up the road. I am still going to ask Dollface for help moving. (Dollface isn't mad at me anymore. And he still looks good with his shirt off.) I am excited to live with my non-sexual life partner, the Rhoda Morgenstern to my Mary Richards. He is also going to help me with my finances. Not as in giving me money, but watching me cut up my credit cards and making a plan.
Because the money thing has gotten really horrible, y'all.
Also, this is what happened to me in April:
*Overdrafted three times
*Locked my keys in my car
*Went to my credit union to take emergency money out, then spent $32 because I lost my parking ticket
*Lost my ID and credit card
*Realized my passport is expired
*Lost my laundry card
*I can't stop chewing my cheeks due to anxiety and now it looks like I have HPV. I have the sex life of a nun, although I have been spending time with a gentleman who is older and there is no drama, and I enjoy that as an interesting change of pace.
Still, I am throwing a May Day party.
Next week: Easter memories! Jared moves into the new apartment!