tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77576190938542171932024-02-07T00:25:51.977-08:00JAKEY ON ...Observations on pop culture, gays of our lives, and just trying to make it ...jakeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05687321925107280139noreply@blogger.comBlogger124125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757619093854217193.post-23464860304737978492021-12-31T18:45:00.001-08:002021-12-31T18:45:05.758-08:002021: My Year of Owning It (Part 1)<p>I may possibly edit this with visually appealing pictures, or do an addendum with more details. However, Dear Reader, I really wanted to get this out there before midnight, and nothing motivates me like a deadline. I also want to go to the pool and hot tub because I booked myself a room at The Westin, which is my happy place. I cannot afford to do such an impulsive thing. That is the first thing I will own</p><p>I had to re-learn a lot of lessons this year. My most important one is that my life is not a <i>Real Housewives</i> show, that individual friendships matter more than the group, or who is the queen bee of the group, or who likes who better in the group. But maybe it's the nature of gay men that we do this. In any case, I went from being a Season 7 Dorinda Medley to a Season 11 Dorinda Medley, and it was truly sad. Lisa Rinna, on another housewives show, always talks about "owning it". So with this, I can only hope to begin <b>owning it.</b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhUi-8PC5-grkXzsHVUYVQFpXi1ozrniHrwgtTdVJ6KMBuIl9JGyoKi_p4lpu8BK9g2-2CpAB8q1Vb_H67dmj8gWzFigp3PnPu7A8ZkKzLayC5Tpx1yM_vF-juhzM3CRXz8vfWOGnARV9ntLL-BvaLuQJgpKHrjFEQYB0e-qBVDQLol4aF9F5zMPAJ6Lw=s500" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="281" data-original-width="500" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhUi-8PC5-grkXzsHVUYVQFpXi1ozrniHrwgtTdVJ6KMBuIl9JGyoKi_p4lpu8BK9g2-2CpAB8q1Vb_H67dmj8gWzFigp3PnPu7A8ZkKzLayC5Tpx1yM_vF-juhzM3CRXz8vfWOGnARV9ntLL-BvaLuQJgpKHrjFEQYB0e-qBVDQLol4aF9F5zMPAJ6Lw=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>I went on a medical leave for the month of March, in a way to save my job as my attendance was dismal. I planned to be lucrative and healthy that month. Then I wouldn't get paid for it, and not knowing where your money is coming from is not very good for your mental health. And thus, I pretended to live like nothing was wrong, even though I technically didn't have a job (other than freelance delivery driving for UberEATS).</p><p>Because of COVID-19, my dear friend Erin couldn't go back to London right away, and it was a lovely benefit to have here as long as we did. She, Jared, Jayden and I playing Mystery Date was a highlight of the year. Erin, Jared, and I went out to eat at The Loop, which was known to be a "hotspot". I stress that this was at the end of March, and I had a vaccine booked at a pharmacy that I knew would be on the way to Treasure Island Casino. Speaking of casinos, my mother drove my father to one three hours away to get his vaccine, and I declined her offer.</p><p>The weekend before I was going to return to work, my friend Elijah was planning a surprise birthday party for our friend Duke. I am going to let you know how complicated this group was by the number of names I will drop.</p><p>The party was at Robin's house. I was going to go with Jayden, even though at the last minute we both expressed feelings of uneasiness. Jayden was sort of on the outs with Lee, who he felt acted differently whenever he hung out with Kelly, who played a very exaggerated version of Jayden in a play I wrote once. I didn't share the same perception, although did find it odd that they seemed to only speak in <i>Schitt's Creek </i>quotes as if it was their own language. Also, last time Duke was drunk he had offended my 21-year-old friend baby gay Kennedy, and I wanted Kennedy to condone that I was going to this party before I went. He did, because Kennedy was the youngest but was somehow the most emotionally mature out of all of us. I was excited for the surprise party even though I felt pangs of sadness because the happiest day of my life was when Steve threw me one, and that was a different life. Everything went off without a hitch, Duke was surprised, we sang karaoke, Elijah brought delicious food, and when we played games I got to sit by Robin's hunky fiance, who we somehow kept giving random Canadian surnames.</p><p>All was well in my gay corner of the world, and I was excited to go back to work and cherish the opportunity and second chance to be perceived as a functional adult in the world.</p><p>And then, well ...</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg0v40R3mzIRu3E2iN2Z94x44bd7lb9Dqy-NfLOv6MG1xnthubXWaCyaMqnvzRDB42JjfG2Z9KZRI5eV5fkKzD3k07b0_LG41SBVn-fnnDMacoW9FUU3fc3yz9zA8kwPxmCeVhhhbAXNBqgX_JAnpBPrabymt1TXCuWw4FQ8SzaUMqYNNogAYic7Ttspw=s289" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="289" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg0v40R3mzIRu3E2iN2Z94x44bd7lb9Dqy-NfLOv6MG1xnthubXWaCyaMqnvzRDB42JjfG2Z9KZRI5eV5fkKzD3k07b0_LG41SBVn-fnnDMacoW9FUU3fc3yz9zA8kwPxmCeVhhhbAXNBqgX_JAnpBPrabymt1TXCuWw4FQ8SzaUMqYNNogAYic7Ttspw" width="289" /></a></div><p><br /></p>Just as Icarus burned by flying too close to the sun, I thought I was invincible after almost making it to my first vaccine. And I got COVID. So did Jared, because he couldn't smell cologne. I think we got it from The Loop. And then I gave it to half the party, including Duke (happy birthday!), Robin and his fiance (thanks for having us!), and someone else who then spread it to his sister.<p></p><p>Thankfully, none of them experienced major symptoms and were healthy after their quarantine.</p><p>As for me, I got it <i>bad.</i> Worse than my bout of Influenza B during that Valentine's Day, or my bout of Influenza A during that St. Patrick's Day. No, this COVID on Easter kicked my ass. Also, what is with it with my health and spring holidays???</p><p>I felt so bad for my boss and co-workers, who now had to see my return delayed for another two weeks. I felt so bad for everyone at the party. And I didn't want to feel bad for myself, but I did feel bad for my mother, who essentially saved my life. Because she is a nurse at North Memorial, I got VIP treatment when I visited to get fluids after a week, as I could not keep a damn thing down. It hurt to even swallow. </p><p>During some nights, I thought I would die from it.</p><p>I realized during those nights that I didn't care if I did, and it would be easier for my loved ones than if I died by suicide.</p><p>I lashed out at my health-conscious friend Casey when he said he wasn't surprised I got it. He was gracious enough to accept my apology, and understand that I was only upset about his comment because I was really sick, and if I wasn't then I might have thought it was funny.</p><p>The mental illness and depression never went away. I also learned that I could not drink the way I did anymore, as I could no longer remember names and conversations I had after one or two, and my attitude and demeanor changed me into a mean drunk.</p><p>But did I stop, Dear Reader? No. And now we continue to Own It.</p><p>I went out after my first vaccination, which was <i>stupid.</i> I ran into Steve. I wasn't used to seeing Steve out in the wild, even though I had plenty of time to get used to it. He was newly single, and bought a house. He is seven years younger than me. Millennials only have something like 12% of the housing market, I read in an incredibly depressing <i>New York Times</i> article about a Brooklyn couple trying to buy a house in Austin. His success should have made me feel nothing but happiness, and instead I felt sad, jealous, and pining for a life I didn't necessarily want.</p><p>I tortured that man for years. He started hanging out with Lee a lot, and it felt like Lee stopped inviting me to things. I felt weird about this because I thought Lee and I were rather close, but it had to all have been in my head. Lee wouldn't have stopped hanging out with me because of Steve. That is stupid. How insecure would I be to think that?</p><p>A month later, I met up with Reid at The Saloon during Pride Version 1.0 (Minneapolis basically had two Prides, but the second fell on my birthday and the busiest season of work). We said hi to Lee, and then he walked away and moved, and I realized Steve was with him. They both walked away. It was still all in my head, and I wanted to see my friend Seth anyway! Seth was helping me plan my birthday party and used to live with Steve, Emilio, and Emilio's hunky 20-year-old boyfriend Josh, who is a very good singer. I got drunk and tried to kiss Josh once and felt terrible and sent them both a gift card and a note and it was never discussed again. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjNvkkAQZCL3oyim9sFbsZ_W3vxDKQUYhja05OR-zlzKN29iXamrXrZjfBmNcXv1VwT6glaMpC7y5RLD4pZ1NOlqlwhUouAj0SinDXLCu-gKO6uSmu8UBs9gLe8J5f5rCKMo8VyH5cuSTkLnOKYUzJ2noz8uDA4ZQgF2KsWwjjm6iv1ZrBuKizy5H2XYg=s500" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="281" data-original-width="500" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjNvkkAQZCL3oyim9sFbsZ_W3vxDKQUYhja05OR-zlzKN29iXamrXrZjfBmNcXv1VwT6glaMpC7y5RLD4pZ1NOlqlwhUouAj0SinDXLCu-gKO6uSmu8UBs9gLe8J5f5rCKMo8VyH5cuSTkLnOKYUzJ2noz8uDA4ZQgF2KsWwjjm6iv1ZrBuKizy5H2XYg=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>I went back into the bar, which was the last thing I should be doing. Kennedy walked up to me full of exuberance. "Hi, Mom!" he cried. (He is my baby gay and calls me Mommy, and this isn't weird at all. You're weird). "Let's hang out soon just me and you. I hope it isn't awkward that I came here with Lee and Steve."</p><p>"Oh my god, no, of course not," I lied through gritted teeth. NOW IT WAS AWKWARD. BECAUSE NOW I KNEW.</p><p>An hour later, I made an absolute fucking ass of myself on the patio when Steve asked Kennedy if he wanted a ride. He meant back to Lee's where his car was parked, but in my tequila-soaked wisdom, I thought he meant something completely different.</p><p>"GO FUCK HIM," I yelled loud enough that people staying at The Hampton Inn could hear. "GO. I DOIN'T CARE. YOU'RE SINGLE AND I DON'T GIVE A SHIT. HAVE A GREAT TIME."</p><p>"You're insane," Steve whispered and they both left.</p><p>Kennedy texted me the next day and said we needed to talk. I was hung over and working at the outlet store in a different city, so I was already in a <i>mood.</i> "No, we don't," I said. "I'm embarrassed and you don't owe me anything.":</p><p>"But I'm your friend and you screamed at me," Kennedy said.</p><p>"I'm sorry I did that," I said.</p><p>"I wasn't going to sleep with Steve," Kennedy said.</p><p>"It's none of my business," I said, and that was the truth.</p><p>"But I wouldn't do that to you," Kennedy said, and for the second time this year, I couldn't figure out how my youngest friend was the most direct and emotionally mature out of anyone I knew.</p><p>Steve even forgave me and graciously invited me to his post-Pride party, and there wasn't any drama at all until the end, when our perpetually shirtless friend William gave me the business for basically inviting myself, and then I felt really embarrassed and stupid. I was only there to see the dog, anyway.</p><p><b>July: It Gets Worse, And Not Just Because I Turn 35</b></p><p>Kennedy, Piano Man, Jayden and I went to a 4th of July drag brunch on the CRAVE rooftop, where Seth was planning my upcoming birthday party. I hadn't seen Piano Man in person for a while, and he still oozed sex. It was also hot as hell, and I don't know how the hell those drag queens didn't get heatstroke. "I didn't know this was outdoors," I apologetically told everyone as I chugged an entire pitcher of water.</p><p>"You're so obviously into him," Kennedy giggled.</p><p>"I am only woman," I demurred.</p><p>When it was over, Piano Man drove back to Red Wing, where he was staying with his family. Jayden declined a ride home from Kennedy and walked elsewhere. We giggled that he was getting laid. He even turned off his location. "Good for him," I declared, and thanked Kennedy for the ride home as he left to work his managerial shift at Zumie's, because that is what you do when you are a Gen-Z gay. I stopped in once and felt like a grandparent, but I still bought socks that say <b>FUCK IT</b> and I have no shame.</p><p>I would see later on Snapchat that Jayden had gone to Lee's to play games. I was not invited. Jayden had earlier expressed dismay that he wasn't invited to things. I did not take this well. I said terrible things in anger. It got so bad that Jayden wasn't even going to go to my birthday party. How eighth grade was this?</p><p>Seth planned my birthday party at CRAVE. I got drunk and cancelled it because I was mad. Seth was beyond livid at me. I put the event link back up, and my friends were confused as hell but understanding about it. Jayden and I even reconciled, as Reid was a good Judy and helped explain his possible perspective to me. I think it can be a good thing to have the strong feelings I have, <b>but it is not good to express those feelings in a way that hurts others.</b></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjLYsQqko1Dbv6cejGb-aWtlF1SNvZq3bFxuXK_WpOE42Y1maU91ICLMxY0touBwJPA0xo8nb3aKlyt-g8XYPHt_taDvnoOZTWNdGqesscvzh4TqhFpb4j--v7jVHvzUpuwkin-g8QQuCTFTFbd2oHO3f1bAmlmjLd353ir639O3CSbi5PLqw9TSrC7RA=s356" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="356" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjLYsQqko1Dbv6cejGb-aWtlF1SNvZq3bFxuXK_WpOE42Y1maU91ICLMxY0touBwJPA0xo8nb3aKlyt-g8XYPHt_taDvnoOZTWNdGqesscvzh4TqhFpb4j--v7jVHvzUpuwkin-g8QQuCTFTFbd2oHO3f1bAmlmjLd353ir639O3CSbi5PLqw9TSrC7RA=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>As for my party, Seth did a masterful job of planning it -- then said he was sick and didn't show up! It still went off without a hitch. Jared even showed up first! Reid, Jared, and my parents sat at my table, as did my hunky friend Bryce, who looks like a sexy lumberjack. Steve came with Randall, Chuck and Raymond, and later my friends Denzil and Ashley showed up. My brother bought his own posse, including his nonsexual life partner Art, and they sat with Jayden, who showed up and brought his sister! All was well and I learned the importance of grace and forgiveness. Reid and Jared missed the group photo because they were out smoking. Everyone gave me wonderful gifts. Randall got me a Trish Stratus T-shirt, Chuck and Raymond got me enough Listerine strips and candy to last me at least a month, and my brother gave me a beautiful airbrushed drawing of my beloved tortoise shell cat, Penny Ann. </p><p>But cycles kept repeating themselves, and we finally got to the pinnacle of every <i>Real Housewives</i> season: THE GROUP TRIP! In which I was even worse than Dorinda. I was the Ramona! Which we will get to when I get back from the hotel tonight, because there are three hours left of 2022 and I want go to the hot tub, get decently pretty, get my outfit together, and somehow make it to The Saloon, where I will not scream at anyone or drunk message Steve or wallow in self-pity.</p><p><i>Next episode: The highs and lows of the group trip, Reid's exciting new ventures, and the most devastating loss of all.</i></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p></p><p><br /></p><p></p>jakeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05687321925107280139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757619093854217193.post-7544765931619425322021-11-16T21:58:00.001-08:002021-11-16T21:58:06.196-08:00Unsent<p> I acted like a fool and a jerk in many ways and I believe in owning my shit and that I acted badly and hurtful to you. I am embarrassed and sorry for that. There is no “but this” about my behavior. I screamed at you on your birthday. I said many cruel things in the months before that, things that I had no right to say and things that I had no right to have an opinion about how much they would hurt you even if I was “just mad”. I was 34, not 17.</p><p><br /></p><p>I can also be beyond hurt that the day you found out my cat was dying and I lost my health insurance, you told me I was toxic and you didn’t want to be my friend anymore after a disagreement that happened over Snapchat, where text is often misconstrued. To be fair, I drunk messaged you *again* and said awful things that are shameful and ridiculous. I do not defend or excuse this abusive behavior. You unfriended me on every social media platform, as is your right.</p><p><br /></p><p>*Then* you sent me a card, postmarked from Minneapolis when you got back from your recent trip, thanking me for being on your last trip before that. This is *after* you had unfriended me on everything. I can not feasibly contact you in any way to discuss this discrepancy other than in person, which I feel is playing into the narrative of my behavior being erratic. I was confused by it, I was hurt by it, and I will never understand your intention. Did you write it before the fight? Was your roommate supposed to send them out and forgot? Or was it to be one last dig? I stared at that envelope for two days before opening it.</p><p><br /></p><p>You still show up in my search bar, from “Friend” to “Person”, 481 mutuals be damned. I’m just trying to get my Monopoly Slots coins for the day. </p><p><br /></p><p>I am not a victim of anything but my own poor behavior. I am also allowed to feel hurt and confused.</p>jakeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05687321925107280139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757619093854217193.post-27295743052297092472021-11-15T22:42:00.001-08:002021-11-15T22:42:47.150-08:00#76: Cliffs Notes<p> -I got COVID in April and my brain has never been the same.,</p><p>-After the world fully re-opened, Lee started hanging out with Steve and stopped hanging out with me.</p><p>-We went to Chicago for Jayden's birthday.</p><p>-Jayden and I broke up and I am mourning it worse than I will any other loss of my life.</p><p>-I will write all about this in longform when I am ready.</p>jakeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05687321925107280139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757619093854217193.post-40740845159562907912021-05-17T02:23:00.004-07:002021-05-17T02:23:48.780-07:00Untitled Episode #75: 3 A.M.<p> I will soon write of April 2021 -- and how I lived and almost died. That is dramatic, but the spoiler alert is that I got COVID and so did many of my peers but I am the only one who, to my knowledge, was actually <i>sick. </i>And I was already technically sick before that, because I went on FMLA leave at my job for bipolar disorder. The joy of mental health treatment in America is that I was deemed mentally ill enough to have my job protected for a month, but not mentally ill enough to be compensated for it.</p><p>It went well.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Xq-rM4K03WVC9WUzb-R9RlyGKBPKlt2qu7Lm3SK3KR0WJLFpUVt5_6pq6Ox4f9r5_6RU_75Z8hqysasSuNlBNjAMS44WNjmoS10tDpSWgL6g76OBrdqgyxDwAAjRqcbsiR5TnuxJT_DN/s1280/3+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Xq-rM4K03WVC9WUzb-R9RlyGKBPKlt2qu7Lm3SK3KR0WJLFpUVt5_6pq6Ox4f9r5_6RU_75Z8hqysasSuNlBNjAMS44WNjmoS10tDpSWgL6g76OBrdqgyxDwAAjRqcbsiR5TnuxJT_DN/s320/3+AM.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p>I went to The Saloon tonight because I left my coat there on Friday. I was not planning to go The Saloon on Friday, either. I met up with my friend Randall at The Eagle because his friends were taking too long and because I had a bad day at work, I had decided I was going to go to Mystic. Thankfully, I chose a different negative coping skill and met up with Randall instead, where we were reunited with our friend Malcolm, who is an improv and writer genius in the city. There was also a nice man who insisted on buying our drinks and was very nice. I was self-conscious because I was scruffy. However, i wasn't too worried about my appearance because it was The Eagle and The Eagle closes at 11.</p><p><i>I'm going to be at The Saloon in an hour,</i> said my text from Ron.</p><p>Ron is my friend who lives in California and looks like an Abercrombie & Fitch bag from 2004. I think of us as good friends, and when we interact one-on-one, I am not particularly nervous. But in a group or club setting I feel weird about it, because he is my friend who can't help it that he is offensively attractive, and I have feelings about feelings. But I didn't even know he was in town!</p><p>Randall, our friend Miguel, and the man who insisted on buying our drinks and cover (who was very nice and told me to stop being jittery) went to The Saloon, and Ron didn't get there until 12:15 A.M. and he did not have a shirt on and I jumped in his arms and it was lovely even though an old man next to me quipped "Quit drooling", and I felt self-conscious but also upset. The only reason I know Ron is because of the gig I got at the Gay '90s in which I narrated tacky gay porn in a bar that was attached to the men's bathroom. And the only reason I <i>got</i> that gig, which is one of the rare gigs I have ever had that required a 1099, is because I was ostensibly talented and could draw people to a venue.</p><p>This was all supposed to be in a later blog that I actually work on. I am supposed to be talking about 3 A.M.</p><p>Because I had gone to The Saloon on Friday, I had lost my coat. It was not expensive or fancy but it was a spring jacket! I did not go The Saloon on Saturday because I had a Truly Citrus at Chuck and Raymond's house and it turns out that stuff causes an allergic reaction, and I was not about to show up at The Saloon after four Zyrtecs and two Benadryls. </p><p>But I went tonight, and I was relieved that tonight was low-key than Friday and Saturday. (Friday was <i>bumpin, </i>and I heard Saturday was even busier! People have been pent-up like crazy!). Nothing eventful happened other than I found my coat, hung out with my friends like Lee and Carl, and my coat was recovered.</p><p>Lee lives in a high-rise on Marquette, and Carl lives a block away. We walked to Lee's place and I walked home, which I was fine with because I had just bought $19.97 headphones from Target, which are different than the $200 Airbuds my mother bought me and told me to never leave the apartment while carrying them. I walked by Nicollet and Marquette and saw the clock almost reading 3 A.M. on the dot.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/PYAz2VIPoMI" width="320" youtube-src-id="PYAz2VIPoMI"></iframe></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/G5EQXVoszxs" width="320" youtube-src-id="G5EQXVoszxs"></iframe></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/7oDEmbiF5tw" width="320" youtube-src-id="7oDEmbiF5tw"></iframe></div><br /><p>I am overkilling the point, I guess, that I was born at 3 A.M., precisely, on July 15th, when I was supposed to be born on August 23rd. It is the only time I was very early for anything. (BA DA BUM BUM CHING) Also, me?? A Virgo??? I do find it fascinating that as an adult I would be close friends with someone born on August 22, but bygones.</p><p>My mother was studying for her nursing boards at The Radisson in St. Paul that night. I had my prom there and she shared that her water broke there. She was "twice as big" as she should have been but said she just couldn't resist Dairy Queen.</p><p>Anyway, her water broke at midnight. Her friend Sara rushed her to the hospital and my father raced there. I was born at 3 A.M., on the dot. I thought I knew everything about this story there was to tell, but it was only last year that my mother casually shared, "They grabbed you right away. They wouldn't let me hold you." I will never know what it is to give birth, and I can't imagine the panic she must have felt, delivering a child a month and two weeks early with no explanation.</p><p>I was 4 pounds and 6 ounces. The placenta never came out. The doctors whispered to each other. Then, according to the family lore, they looked at my mother and one of them said, "Okay, Mrs. Emmert. We figured it out. There's another baby in there."</p><p>And according to my mother, a large nurse pinned her down and screamed "PUSH!" in her face, because I can only assume that giving birth is not something you want to repeat all over again, but she did. My twin brother was born, only three ounces heavier than me, at 3:19 A.M.</p><p>My Uncle Mark was living at home when this happened. He says he remembers Grandma Shirley, who was only 49 at the time, answering the phone at 5:30 in the morning. "Twins?" he remembers her responding on the phone call. <i>"Twins????"</i></p><p>She drove from Blaine to Osseo to pick up my Grandma Jeanne, and famously forgot the gas cap at the gas station.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0jI7jFM8Na2deeGBRSTShpHoUlnFlh3sllozBExEqQqWpifXMWvlTm7YMurXdUT35qt6yhyphenhyphenLY5TwfiUMgE-m6HwdhAJF2OGXdDRhRngRSIV_BLh-wZ70_LArDhM0n5R1gCK65Ld9IL9gp/s1280/julia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0jI7jFM8Na2deeGBRSTShpHoUlnFlh3sllozBExEqQqWpifXMWvlTm7YMurXdUT35qt6yhyphenhyphenLY5TwfiUMgE-m6HwdhAJF2OGXdDRhRngRSIV_BLh-wZ70_LArDhM0n5R1gCK65Ld9IL9gp/s320/julia.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dane and me with Shirley's mother, Great-Grandma Julia. She lived to be 103 and was very superstitious. To this day, I will not wear socks to bed or open umbrellas indoors.<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>It is vain of me to speak of my birth as if it was a stupendous event. It's not like my birth was like <i>The Star.</i> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/CziCidR4KcY" width="320" youtube-src-id="CziCidR4KcY"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>I am a chronic night owl. Seeing 3 A.M. on a clock, majestically in the heart of downtown, on the heels of another Mother's Day in which I could not afford to buy my mother a nice gift, caused uncomfortable reflection. I could only think of the mother who has been subsidizing much of my life because of my own poor decisions and unwillingness to correct them, the mother whom I resented and blamed for all of my academic failures, the mother who was too overwhelmed with dealing with the imminent death of <i>her</i> untreated mentally ill mother to adequately be the mother her untreated mentally ill son needed at 20 years old, the mother who faced a horrifying situation at 3 A.M. when she was not even a full eight months pregnant and pushed anyway.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>jakeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05687321925107280139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757619093854217193.post-1001476800961900652020-11-02T09:07:00.004-08:002020-11-02T09:18:25.567-08:00Loring Park Episode #74: The Summer That Wasn't<p>I overslept on Memorial Day. I do not remember if I was supposed to work and was again exhibiting the tired behavior of showing up hours late, if at all, for my shifts; the store had been closed since St. Patrick’s Day, my pay was cut, and I felt ambivalent and resentful (although grateful for benefits and podcasts). I overspent any stimulus money on ridiculous and embarrassing alcohol-fueled acts of hedonism that I knew were really spurred by chronic loneliness. It had been almost two years since I pretended I had a boyfriend. He moved on publicly, and I reacted publicly, to the detriment of myself and everyone around me. Reid and I mutually agreed to not renew our lease in Whittier but we still had two months left, and I was in my twin bed in a tiny room. I hadn’t even started looking at new apartments.</p><p>
All of these problems that seemed massive enough to keep me in bed all day would not matter the day George Floyd was murdered by a Minneapolis policeman outside of Cup Foods that afternoon.
We all reacted differently to the events that unfolded the next few days. Reid got drunk that night and went live online for the web talk show we had been hosting. Later that night, he expressed contrition. “What am I <em>doing</em>?” he asked me through tears. “How is this helping anything?” As the days went on, he became a vigilante of sorts, patrolling our neighborhoods at night and watching the small businesses near our street corner; New York Slice of Pizza, Harm’s Convenience Store, Pimento’s. He went to protests on Lake Street, which started peaceful and escalated into fiery violence, while I sat in our living room and watched it unfold on MSNBC. A pick-up truck with an Oklahoma license plate was now parked in front of our building, in a way that suggested the driver had never parked in a city before, and also didn’t care. I was most unnerved by the cars with no license plates that were driving around our neighborhood. Whittier is between uptown and downtown and isn’t super close to the freeway -- not that it would matter, because the city had implemented a curfew. </p><p>
The first day of the curfew, Joey and I went to Mystic Lake. I was working at his store on its first day of opening after COVID, and they closed their doors again at 2 P.M. that afternoon. I felt so bad for the store manager, who I had known since a September afternoon in 2008. We were actually winning when we got a text at 5 PM saying Minneapolis was going into lockdown curfew at 8 PM! Mystic was an hour away from the city! Lee lives in a high-rise with his roommate, a psychiatric nurse named Sonny who looks like the cutest smart kid in your science class. He graciously invited us to spend the night there in the name of safety concerns. Joey and I raced to Culver’s and the liquor store, and I packed like our homes were going to be on fire, the way buildings would eventually be on Lake Street. “You don’t need your laptop,” Joey admonished. I packed it anyway, and other things I would not use during my one night having a slumber party at Lee’s. We managed to get there by 7 so we could watch the finale of <em>RuPaul’s Drag Race</em>. Lee doesn’t watch the show regularly but decided that night his favorite was Jaida Essence Hall, who won and made the Midwest proud. I watched most episodes of the season at my parents’ house, and she was their favorite, too. Joey yelled at me for making a mess at Lee’s and throwing my shit everywhere like we were staying at a hotel. We spoke of our own pasts and traumas and silently cried as the city continued to burn. Joey and I went to the memorial site a few weeks later. There was still a lot of international media there, and a sense of solemnity and respect. We also knew better to not take selfies, a somewhat annoying phenomenon from well-meaning white people who should know better.</p><p>
<br />Although delayed another week, my store opened again. Pride was cancelled, but I filmed two horrible stand-up sets, one from Lee’s balcony and one from my parents’ guest room. The former never saw the light of day, and the latter was for Columbia Heights Pride. I formed a little sextet with Chuck, Raymond, Charlie, Joey and Randall, and we often had quiet nights in playing board games (and one night at Vegas Lounge where I won pull tabs, went to my brother’s apartment, and we got in a big stupid fight). Chuck and Raymond redid their basement and have a dart board for whenever we miss the 19.</p><p><br /></p><p>
A friend of mine was having a going-away party. It was at the same house Steve lived in. I ate shit and apologized to Jaxon. Conversely to Steve’s beliefs, I didn’t do it because I wanted to go to the party. Yes, I wanted to go to the party, but only if things were copacetic. “It will be awkward for everyone,” Steve had said, and I didn’t want to walk in like Mimi Imfurst on Season 1 of <em>RuPaul’s Drag Race: All-Stars</em>. (I promise I watched more TV shows besides <em>RuPaul's Drag </em>Race this year). I wrote it as a memo and edited it before sending. While the contents of it can remain private, Jaxon accepted it with a grace and maturity that went beyond his years, and I was grateful for it. I had a marvelous time, got to re-connect with Darren, avoided a flower pot when someone threw one at somebody (and they thought I was going to cause all the drama!), and only wanted to teleport to Alaska once, when I accidentally went into their room after I went to the bathroom. Ok, by accidentally it was totally on purpose. I didn’t touch anything. It was emotional masochism. I thought maybe standing there would help things all make sense, or I would get some kind of closure. Closure is a myth and I just felt resentful and sorry for myself. Steve and Jaxon moved to the suburbs, in a neighborhood I will never travel to, and I am at peace with that. He bought an adorable puppy after the first week, so bringing tiny and adorable things home can be a new tradition I don’t need to understand. Someone at the party tested positive for COVID, and while they don’t think they got infected until after the party, I spent ten hours the next week on the phone with a corporate hotline and was told to stay home for another week. So much for my sexy sexy birthday party. </p><p>
<br /></p><p>I wanted to have a birthday at LUSH. They closed. I really miss LUSH. I miss performing there, I miss the queens, I miss the people. I was never employed by them and wasn’t privy to the issues that plagued it and don’t want to dismiss any of that. Selfishly, as a patron and perfomer, it had become the most consistent place I was performing, and it was both a personal and professional bummer.
I did get to have a birthday lunch at Stella’s Fish Cafe with Erin, Joey, and Jared. How excited I was to have Erin in town from London. She is getting her Ph.D and is studying grief and stillborn children. Very uplifting stuff. The boys and I went to the beach and walked two miles back to my apartment. I wrote horrible text messages to myself that I forgot about until yesterday when I was copying a hyperlink for later use.
That Sunday, Erin, Joey, Chuck, Raymond, Randall and I all played croquet in my parents’ backyard using a set that my Great-Grandma Julia had! I do not know why she kept a croquet set when she lived in an apartment in Starbuck, Minnesota for the last decades of her life. Loretta bemoaned that she should have mowed the lawn first, because the yard is very hilly and caused obstacles. Joey kept quoting <em>Heathers</em>. I refused to swing the traditional way and played like a golfer, which may have been why I got fourth. (Chuck won and Raymond got second, so it was not a good day for singles) Charlie came after the game and was annoyed he missed it, and I win the Hypocrite Award for being annoyed that he arrived so late. He got me a satchel and a Trish Stratus magnet. Chuck, Charlie and myself all have birthdays the same week (The Week of the Persuader in my birthday book), but I never want to do a joint birthday party because I am a twin and spent my whole childhood sharing a birthday. However, this year nobody could really have one. Not the spring babies, not the summer babies, not the fall babies. Everything is cancelled. Maybe we can do a half-birthday bash. I wouldn’t mind sharing a half-birthday party. Charlie went on a road trip to South Dakota with Steve and that was during a week that Steve blocked me on everything because I was being ridiculous. I found out that Tuesday from Steve. Four days later, Charlie texted me to ask for my new address so he could send me a postcard. I did not respond with grace.
</p><p>
“You’ve got some fucking nerve,” I texted back with haste.</p><p>
“I would have told you if you would have asked me anything about my trip,” he shot back. “You took no interest in it.”</p><p>
My parents brought Dane and I to South Dakota when we were 13, in a Jeep with no air conditioner, and we were so bored we came home a day early and my mom cried. "You boys are so ungrateful, she whimpered. When I was your age, the only other state I had ever been to was Wisconsin, and that was because our bus driver got lost on our field trip to Red Wing. But we were like, “Oooh, we’re in Wisconsin …"</p><p>
“I didn’t realize I had to ask for your entire itinerary,” I said.
</p><p>
“I asked you on Sunday if I could hang out with Steve without it being weird and you said yes,” he responded.
</p><p>
“Hang out!” I repeated. “Not go on a road trip for a week when he’s blocked me on everything!”
It went on from there and our friendship never recovered. Did I mention our birthdays are one day apart? Two gay Cancers having a beef? I am really bummed about it. I hope they had more fun than my family did.</p><p><br /></p><p>
Yes, dear reader, I again have a new address. And it’s not my St. Anthony estate! Reid found a place right away in Loring Park. Would I finally return to the neighborhood that was my blog’s namesake? Rent is much more than it was in 2012, but it was also the last time Venus was retrograde in Gemini, and it felt like a full-circle moment! But you could also argue that it was going backwards. I also knew that wherever I lived needed to have parking, because one year of struggling in Whittier was enough.
By circumstance, luck, and my Uncle Ander very generously printing out documents for me at his house because the printer at Loretta’s had no ink, I was able to obtain a Section 42 apartment in the North Loop. THE NORTH LOOP! I KNOW! It’s still rather surreal. I haven’t lived alone in six years and it has been quite an adjustment. I have already had visitors. Erin came the first day after moving in before she flew to Europe that evening, and it was a bittersweet moment. Steve brought a bottle of wine. Joey and I played Nintendo Wii and listened to “Cardigan”. Reid chastised Comcast on my behalf and I finally got cable a week later (but I lost a piece of my Firestick during the move! Such complaints!). Kennedy, my babygay friend, visited before we went to a brewery, and he wears a chain with his birthday displayed and I try not to take it personally. I wish I liked beer because there are about five breweries per capita in my neighborhood. I don’t get it. Even Ron came to visit with a friend when he was visiting from California. Chuck installed my bidet and should be nominated for sainthood, and then we walked for two miles because we ended up on a bike trail and you have to stay on it for long enough until you return to civilization. I continue to marvel that I have lived in this city for so damn long and still find secrets and gems, even though 12 years ago I was convinced I wasn’t staying.
I am even more ancient now. I consider myself to be aimless. I plan on meeting a beautiful douche bag who lives in the fancy building next door, and he will scoff at me when he finds out I live in the short building. And it will be okay because there are a lot of dogs and I need to learn how to be alone anyway. Yet I’ve already had at least ten people visit! I can still be social even though I live by myself and don’t have a cat. Last week I went to two different birthday parties! One was in the suburbs with cute boys from Snapchat who did push-ups on the deck and the other was at a building a block away from me, but I put the wrong address in on the way from the other party! Thankfully, the Uber driver was queer and knew Jared and his friends from sober living, and it felt serendipitous. I jumped in the pool.
</p>jakeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05687321925107280139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757619093854217193.post-44327641271307491832020-07-20T14:28:00.002-07:002020-07-30T12:13:12.224-07:00Loring Park Episode #73: Being Accompanied By Terri<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<strong>Because I am a procrastinating waste of potential, I started writing this blog, which takes place in January and February of 2020, in March. It is now the end of July. That sentence used to say June. The world, and Minneapolis, is a very different place now. I will write soon -- and I mean soon, not the Jakey Emmert "I'll be there in five minutes when I really haven't even got in the shower yet" soon -- about life in quarantine, about the murder of George Floyd on our streets, about life constantly changing as we know it. For now, dear reader, we will go to a different time. And if you want to go way back in time, <em>Loring Park: Vol. 2 </em>is coming soon. By soon I mean before my age has a "4" in front of it.</strong></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmVBcDatVXZg3plt2EbGrq_ZAUMqOlYbXQy2EDirioyFaxxn2WBVbsqdQteCn0He2PBgDu4EfQm_RYdIwh8KwJgaczM-T5dD3VcXNSDUkhuBhT9y-nTod5q2MokAx3Ts36qaBwnGq5VQtD/s1600/library.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="206" data-original-width="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmVBcDatVXZg3plt2EbGrq_ZAUMqOlYbXQy2EDirioyFaxxn2WBVbsqdQteCn0He2PBgDu4EfQm_RYdIwh8KwJgaczM-T5dD3VcXNSDUkhuBhT9y-nTod5q2MokAx3Ts36qaBwnGq5VQtD/s1600/library.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
I renewed my library card on the same day I went to my new gym. The theme is overdoing it. I somehow had joined the Anytime Fitness in the really nice part of town, and for the first 30 days you could only work out at your home gym. Nothing inspires you to work out like knowing that you can reward yourself with a nine-dollar pre-prepared cranberry salad from Kowalski's next door when you're done.<br />
<br />
I went to the gym about five times and I only read half of the books I checked out from the library! Every time I go to the gym, I go home crying and feel stupid about myself because I don't know what the hell I am doing. <i>But, Jakey, if that's the case, don't you go home crying every day? </i>Hush up.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoVNx5uLQPvaMslsIfE-56Ik_7kKdGAQ2KS6x-TTYByMDZlMw1KE67zKrXqF3Wa2oBFbWG-x6WCto7zfLlcZWuqcfVCKk8Nlokn3Ycn9sKECE6tDo22pzYUiBgLi_Pp0XzH2ejCoPtXw6L/s1600/barluchador.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoVNx5uLQPvaMslsIfE-56Ik_7kKdGAQ2KS6x-TTYByMDZlMw1KE67zKrXqF3Wa2oBFbWG-x6WCto7zfLlcZWuqcfVCKk8Nlokn3Ycn9sKECE6tDo22pzYUiBgLi_Pp0XzH2ejCoPtXw6L/s320/barluchador.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I wanted to remember what it was to be a stand-up comedian again, so I did an open mike at Bar Luchador, which is a wrestling-themed restaurant in Dinkytown. My favorite things combined are stand-up, pro wrestling, and college boys. It reminded me of when I was first starting out! Almost every comic was <i>in</i> college, and I was now the older veteran, but I was still really awkward. I brought my WWE Women's Championship with me, for crying out loud. My favorite thing was that it was a Monday, so <i>WWE Raw</i> was actually on in the background (thankfully, not on the TV behind the comedians). Still, it took me back to my days of 2011-2014, when I performed often, and went to the open mikes that feel like marathons, and you don't feel better or worse than anybody but you're just so damn happy to be there. This elation may have also been brought along by the fact that Trevor Anderson let me sit with a Trish Stratus action figure during the show.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
My friend Charlie is also a wrestling fan, and we even went to a WWE pay-per-view in December! The show itself was not great, but that was no fault of our friend, a former WWE performer who gave us tickets. More on her in a little bit. First I have to say that we went to The Depot Tavern before, and Charlie almost sent back his three dollar well Tom Collins drink because it didn't taste right. I had paid for it because I had cash so I flatly refused to allow this, and because I am a good friend I used his real name at Bar Luchador in my set and said, "I don't have a joke about this, I just want to shame him." With friends like me, who needs enemies?<br />
_________<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I was blessed with a rare Saturday off, which meant Bingo! It was Valentine's Day Weekend and I guess I blessed myself with the day off, because I took the weekend off so Charlie and I could go on our trip to Duluth. Irregardless, as Gretchen Wieners would say, I realized that Charlie and I weren't going out of town until Sunday, so Saturday meant a day of debauchery!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
My friend Clive lives an hour away and I hadn't seen him in months, and he agreed to spend the day with me without any blackmail involved. He even picked me up. It's not that I have a crush on Clive, but he <i>is</i> attractive, and there's something to be said about being in a car with a boy when he is driving. It happened when my friend George, who I met through Chuck and Raymond, drove me from Lush to The Saloon one night after he saw me perform at New Hope Cinema Grill. It's an exciting, innocent feeling. Maybe because I always think of myself as a stunted adolescent, or because usually I'm driving myself (or Jared, for a long time).<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I overprepared and got a table for five, even though I didn't even know Clive was coming for sure, and Charlie couldn't come until later, and E.J. couldn't come until later, and Steve was sitting with his work friends. It all worked out because my friend Randall, a hilarious comedian, had his own posse and we joined him at the couches.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Tk_kWdNp1fnF_XkJSaLudm52ykjtRccc816XtobIv23aKzbVPvnum_8yWx_KqY9Sbfs0k55SiapUOVC7Y0-M61QrN7VREU2QkatGnKZqKnGyQgo9rkXF3J3A-6ncs4O4YaXz_36FNE6W/s1600/mayorfrey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Tk_kWdNp1fnF_XkJSaLudm52ykjtRccc816XtobIv23aKzbVPvnum_8yWx_KqY9Sbfs0k55SiapUOVC7Y0-M61QrN7VREU2QkatGnKZqKnGyQgo9rkXF3J3A-6ncs4O4YaXz_36FNE6W/s320/mayorfrey.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jacob Randall, Jacob Frey, and a local drunk<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Randall had a few girls at his table, including a veteran named Courtney who was very friendly and gregarious. EJ and Charlie eventually joined. I drank enough but not too much. Steve came over which made me happy because things were complicated.<br />
<br />
"We got a new dog," he said.<br />
<br />
I am not allowed to go to Steve's house so I pretended I was happy but was sad about it. I will never see the dog. I wish him well.<br />
<br />
I can wish the dog well but not Jaxon well.<br />
<br />
This speaks volume about my lack of character.<br />
<br />
<i>Come back, Jakey. This is a rabbit hole.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Yes! I am forgetting about the important part, which is THAT I WON BINGO. THREE TIMES.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib7NKY2nLe1pVWWKM8kch-rKcxVUGVoSkYaxtLcNTj7o66g4RVNN3uAtVGGoU3bgvSPeNju2qAUGIOGddmnWGmFfCNsUu90t3xCo5te4078oBIApiVaoKyG6ol882jmVyZ7JKvJlnMPtG1/s1600/bingo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="540" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib7NKY2nLe1pVWWKM8kch-rKcxVUGVoSkYaxtLcNTj7o66g4RVNN3uAtVGGoU3bgvSPeNju2qAUGIOGddmnWGmFfCNsUu90t3xCo5te4078oBIApiVaoKyG6ol882jmVyZ7JKvJlnMPtG1/s320/bingo.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A month later, I would win $200 at Big Louie's Bingo and THEN LOSE MY WALLET THE NEXT DAY. I CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
After bingo, Clive, EJ, Charlie and I went to my apartment. Reid came home and cooked for us because he is a Double Taurus Daddy (so is EJ, too, and I don't wish to doubt his culinary prowess). <br />
<br />
<br />
We played Trouble and kiki'd. Clive was planning on driving back home, and it took a lot of planning <br />
to convince him not to (and I am happy to say he agreed). We then went to The Saloon, but it seemed weird to be out that early. Charlie did not join, because he was picking me up at 9 in the morning for our trip to Duluth.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"Don't drink too much," he warned. "We have a big day tomorrow."<br />
<br />
<br />
"Obvi," I said.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I LIED.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Clive, Reid and I were there until bar close mingling with everybody! Clive is hot so I figured everyone was going to be all over him and he was gonna go home with someone of his choice, and he would have been allowed to, but he chose to return to my estate after bar close. He laid on top of me on the couch and kissed me on the lips.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"Jakey," he whispered. "I love you." And then he started snoring and I laid there awkwardly for 20 minutes because while I enjoy when men are muscular, it feels a different way when they are on top of you but not moving and you're not really sure what to do with yourself.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
He was gone when I woke up.<br />
<br />
____<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Hell froze over because Charlie only had to wait for five minutes the next morning! Charlie is one of the most idiosyncratic people I have ever met, and I say that with love. Exhibit H: He drives a Gucci Fiat. It is a tiny black car with the Gucci logo on it. I can't make this stuff up.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I was exhausted, but I was okay with it because I planned on sleeping on the way to Duluth. <br />
<br />
<br />
However, Charlie often drives back and forth to his hometown that is somewhere in a far away land called South Dakota, so the two and a half hour drive to Duluth is a hop and a skip in his mind. He insisted on playing games or having conversation the whole time, and I was on three hours of sleep and was struggling to find energy or a reason to live.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I won't begrudge Charlie for it, though, because he found an app called 21 Questions or something like that. It's similar to a game I bought from Nordstrom called Hygge, and it prompts questions that lead to deep conversations. I realized there are not many people in the world that could engage in something like that, as it requires deep vulnerability, empathy, and curiosity. Around Hinckley, there was even one question that I wasn't comfortable answering beyond "yes" or "no" and Charlie respected that.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
After what felt like being on The Oregon Trail, we landed in Duluth! First we stopped at The Electric Fetus. I used to live just a block and a half away from the Minneapolis location and never knew there was a Duluth one. I splurged and bought two Janet Jackson CD's (if I ever finish the 2019 blog, I will tell you all about that concert!), a Jonny Lang CD, the <i>Batman</i> soundtrack by Prince, and a T-shirt that I can't recall because it is still in the bag in my car.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZslo-anre4AfYRlUmeFMVXKJYEXdx8lCe1gI7AT16te4sW5UsjEQSMdydvNMUCpIlya9gwyUtHbL78FA8wDmHcJpHDE3DGXX0OD_6UY9iqyzeH0GvPeJ30JdM5vIO75Es5MoEwuGWTX1-/s1600/lunchwithjana.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="960" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZslo-anre4AfYRlUmeFMVXKJYEXdx8lCe1gI7AT16te4sW5UsjEQSMdydvNMUCpIlya9gwyUtHbL78FA8wDmHcJpHDE3DGXX0OD_6UY9iqyzeH0GvPeJ30JdM5vIO75Es5MoEwuGWTX1-/s320/lunchwithjana.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
We started our excursion outside the <a href="http://www.7westtaphouse.com/menu-downtown-duluth" target="_blank">7 West Taphouse</a>, where a nice Duluthian informed us that we didn't need to pay for parking. I was so excited to reunite with my Aunt Jana! I hadn't seen her in person since MAY OF 2012, when I performed at Dub Linnh's during the weekend I was initially going to be in a play that never happened. Jana is originally from Georgia and I stayed with her parents when I saw the Atlanta Olympics in 1996. It was wonderful to catch up with her, her husband Ray, and my cousin Daniel, and we promised to not make it eight years before seeing each other again.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Charlie and I scrambled to get ready at the hotel, and I was still SO DAMN TIRED, but we made it to the wrestling show.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
You guys, I am a horrible writer. I didn't even tell you why we were going to Duluth.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Five years earlier,<a href="http://jakeyon.blogspot.com/2015/03/loring-park-episode-50-milwaukee-show.html" target="_blank"> Charlie and I road tripped to Milwaukee</a> (an even longer trip!) to see Charlie's favorite childhood wrestler, Terri Runnels, at a wrestling meet-and-greet that was during a halftime session of a Milwaukee Admirals hockey game. Here's the Cliffs Notes version: Charlie made an amazing card for Terri. We took a picture even though we were technically too late for pictures. Charlie left his phone number in the card even though I told Charlie that was creepy. I know nothing, because Terri called him later that night and a genuine friendship was made ever since then. We have kept in touch with Terri through the years, but I was always too poor to go to something like WrestleCon, and when she told us she was going to be doing a show in Minnesota, we were THERE.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
We got to the building later than we wanted to (shocker, I know). I was nervous and anxious. There were never two seats close to each other, because everybody seated themselves the way that Minnesotans do in church, where you're the only person in your row but then you strategically leave a coat to cover the seats next to you to signal to others, <i>no, this seat is TAKEN, they're just not here right now.</i> I was frustrated but it was my fault we were late so I didn't want to express that to Charlie, so I just got more nervous and agitated. We ended up standing on the upper level, where Charlie immediately received compliments of his authentic WWF Chyna T-shirt, which he had splurged $50 for on eBay. I felt salty because I had the same shirt when I was a youth, and I ruined it a few summers ago by attempting to turn it into a crop top. I shouldn't complain, because I was wearing a festive Trish Stratus T-shirt that Charlie had given me for my birthday.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCAzwOMVz86eFGeZuS-dJIpRSYN3c7WYDIYKZjcv9sU4Xk4m7nbzh06_7lqgpUb5kU-NPAi0rZCX5I6SjeedUbLnfOfBHzzeNfRw1r6xfE3ShrzXHQ2TOF8d2OzH-QM0eD-g3oj0Qg2EBg/s1600/chyna.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCAzwOMVz86eFGeZuS-dJIpRSYN3c7WYDIYKZjcv9sU4Xk4m7nbzh06_7lqgpUb5kU-NPAi0rZCX5I6SjeedUbLnfOfBHzzeNfRw1r6xfE3ShrzXHQ2TOF8d2OzH-QM0eD-g3oj0Qg2EBg/s320/chyna.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My 9th grade school picture.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
My anxiety quelled during the first match when Charlie's phone buzzed. "Terri just asked, 'Where are you guys'?" he said. He tapped away furiously and his face lit up. "She's gonna come find us," he said.<br />
<br />
<br />
"<i>What???"</i> I asked dramatically. It was all hitting me now, that I always would joke with my brother about "my good friend Terri Runnels", that she was a real person, this was really happening, that she was going out of her way to meet two gay guys from Minneapolis -- which was a judgment, because we had been corresponding with her regularly, I mean she was a friend …<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
...She bopped around the brewhouse and waved at us from the bottom of the stairs, then climbed up with aplomb. In heels. I was worried for her safety. "You guys!" she yelled. "Come sit with me!" She put her hand on my back, and while I always role-played as Chyna or Trish as a kid, it's the only time I felt like a male wrestler. Terri is a legendary manager, and she had her hand on my back as we walked down the stairs (she's about 5'2" and I'm 5'7", whereas Charlie would be the hoss of our team because he is 6'2"), and for a brief moment I felt like Charlie and I were making our way to the ring as a tag team, with Terri as our manager …<br />
<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>The following contest, scheduled for one fall, is for the World Wrestling Federation Tag Team Championship! Introducing the challengers, accompanied by TERRI RUNNELS, at a combined weight of .... math is hard ... THE FABULOUS JAKEY & CHARLIE CHANNING</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/lyvYoGxJmFI" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
<br />
Terri sat with us while we watched the rest of the show, which included a lot of great Minneapolis talent, including Deveon Monroe, who was like nothing I had ever seen.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzcewMUOkIVZPkHfSN9PDK2SnmMvVq8GGqalOreGqZ-kUHYzZJfG0j176gun8CnvDEJOntSMRE9Wr0pXXyTOQEB591ori3MbEfXqRgd5XIR9TIV9D7cTfGyn7V9t79LtT9grxsqvXpqGcQ/s1600/deveonmonroe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzcewMUOkIVZPkHfSN9PDK2SnmMvVq8GGqalOreGqZ-kUHYzZJfG0j176gun8CnvDEJOntSMRE9Wr0pXXyTOQEB591ori3MbEfXqRgd5XIR9TIV9D7cTfGyn7V9t79LtT9grxsqvXpqGcQ/s320/deveonmonroe.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
<br />
His character is flamboyantly gay. 20 years ago, he would be the heel. And I was nervous watching it, because I was anticipating an Adrian Adonis gimmick (or ironically, Goldust). But no, he was the face, with a male bodyguard, who does some moves that have sexuality to them, but it had nothing to do with the story of the match. It was refreshing to see, and I judged my own judgment.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLS3Dzn8nK40R5cLpwJ2WAaGuL_01Lb7fcguMHGzw_Vc_BNid5O5AoXea_o5n-XIKLw-Hjrrhyphenhyphenf8gw43TWuIA03Ixd8Ho3vVazlPVjk_P4IpJU_bk5C5Fdy7wOlW3hqn3uznznBe0by2nb/s1600/milehighmagnum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="482" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLS3Dzn8nK40R5cLpwJ2WAaGuL_01Lb7fcguMHGzw_Vc_BNid5O5AoXea_o5n-XIKLw-Hjrrhyphenhyphenf8gw43TWuIA03Ixd8Ho3vVazlPVjk_P4IpJU_bk5C5Fdy7wOlW3hqn3uznznBe0by2nb/s320/milehighmagnum.jpg" width="160" /></a></div>
<br />
There was an amazing heel named Dak Draper, the Mile High Magnum, who I thought was sexy as all hell! I didn't talk to him at a meet and greet because I was too nervous. Had I known that he has a tortoise shell cat who actually lets him hold her, I would have been more comfortable. This picture melted me. And then I later found out on Instagram that it's a rare boy tortie!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijuJyi5InetmPNPtBovinwpw4EeoctmWkBrX1QMe96HST67NGN5nlLaJQ9Wzt8Nt86vQbkPWwEGXWM3CHxQ6bqYAtEu6TaMCtzVobwkQfyMLoqoHvXwEhQNaWpRk4Hht2ZpSXsvc9jzqjn/s1600/pennyann.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="444" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijuJyi5InetmPNPtBovinwpw4EeoctmWkBrX1QMe96HST67NGN5nlLaJQ9Wzt8Nt86vQbkPWwEGXWM3CHxQ6bqYAtEu6TaMCtzVobwkQfyMLoqoHvXwEhQNaWpRk4Hht2ZpSXsvc9jzqjn/s320/pennyann.jpg" width="148" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The love of my life.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Penny Ann would never, but I still love her so much and if I start talking about her I will get emotional.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Anyway, during the show, I was still really quiet. It was partly because I was still tired. Also, we were by the camera and I was nervous because I heard that they would pick up our audio. It was loud, and also still kind of surreal. I thought it best to just let Terri and Charlie talk to each other, even though she was trying her best to include me. I especially enjoyed her talk about the advice she was giving the young wrestlers. "You have to know your character inside out," she said. "You should know what your character had for breakfast this morning. When you're at a red light, what is your character thinking about being at a red light?" (Terri's favorite character of hers is Marlena, but I told her my favorite version of her was when she accompanied The Hardys) Charlie felt I was being standoffish, and I felt terrible. I was just trying to take it in, throughout my exhaustion, without ruining the show (I really was worried about the damn audio), or making a fool of myself out of my lust for Dax Draper ...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
After the show, Charlie and I went to dinner at the iconic JJ Astor atop the Harborview Radisson. This meal was almost as much as the room and worth it. I felt like I was at Gina's, the fictional restaurant in Genoa City on <em>The Young and the Restless.</em><br />
<em><br /></em>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdZJJng2TTSVyLOaryiOaWNCEpXoHGfXXfowlCxPkxkU0ONfQW5Z3rxJDjS0h9fJBuhlXa0s05gFSg1POR9kCDAJdt0moaNAJYoBgwT0Gq0b3BWi_kJM35reIq9cgNObej5Znne2HvH-64/s1600/dinnerinduluth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdZJJng2TTSVyLOaryiOaWNCEpXoHGfXXfowlCxPkxkU0ONfQW5Z3rxJDjS0h9fJBuhlXa0s05gFSg1POR9kCDAJdt0moaNAJYoBgwT0Gq0b3BWi_kJM35reIq9cgNObej5Znne2HvH-64/s320/dinnerinduluth.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
It was decadent and delicious and worth every dollar, and we enjoyed the view of the beautiful city. After dinner, Terri told us to meet her in her room at a different hotel, and Charlie packed his Nintendo 64. I was finally able to let loose, and the night turned into a very slumber-party vibe. First we had S'mores outside, and I was properly judged for being very lame about them (I only like a toasted brown marshmallow!) Charlie hooked up the Nintendo 64, and we ordered pizza. These days, WWE does an annual video game in the format of a Madden game (the game is just named after the current year), but in <em>our</em> day, each game was different. I was raised in a PlayStation household, to my detriment when I am playing Mario Party with Joey and Lee, and had we been playing <em>Smackdown 2: Know Your Role, </em>I am confident I would have slayed my competition. Unfortunately for me, we were on Nintendo 64 playing <em>No Mercy, </em>the first wrestling game made for this console. However, it was worth it, because while Terri was not known for her in-ring competition during her illustrious career, it's the only game in which she is a playable character!!!! She was as gobsmacked as we were, but not nearly so much as the pizza delivery boy that came in our room twenty minutes later.<br />
<br />
<br />
"Do you see that girl on the screen?" she said as her Terri delivered a Boston Crab to my Ivory. "That's me."<br />
<br />
<br />
The pizza guy did the longest double take I have ever witnessed, left without saying too much, and then texted her a bunch of times later (she never responded).<br />
<br />
<br />
"I've never done that move in my life," Terri said after she beat me with said Boston Crab. I was terrible!<br />
<br />
<br />
I was grateful that I was able to finally loosen up, and Terri was even gracious enough to FaceTime with my brother. Unlike at the show, it never felt like we were hanging out with a famous person, but just a friend who was visiting town. I mean, it wasn't our town, but you know what I mean.<br />
<br />
<br />
We planned to meet up with her in the morning and it was serendipitous. After we helped her pack, Terri went downstairs only to find that Ron Simmons took the shuttle to the airport without her!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBtnVeS_b2tQejRI_zWdwHFgZOwud8efKOl9OfnkBA93hkNdva4AqmurmFy2D-FxeNTSjbpYCJJpZItniPfvUNzq6cy_QO9PkcLY0rVJ-IDBznKGncLvp1Asab9p84uHWYEz7z7N8fY_Ew/s1600/damn.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="124" data-original-width="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBtnVeS_b2tQejRI_zWdwHFgZOwud8efKOl9OfnkBA93hkNdva4AqmurmFy2D-FxeNTSjbpYCJJpZItniPfvUNzq6cy_QO9PkcLY0rVJ-IDBznKGncLvp1Asab9p84uHWYEz7z7N8fY_Ew/s1600/damn.gif" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Charlie and I offered to give her a ride to the airport without question. I had never seen the Duluth airport, and I was excited in a nerdy way about it. Unfortunately, we were in the Gucci Fiat, which makes my Honda Fit look like a monster truck. We could barely fit her luggage in the back and I squeezed into the backseat. (Terri offered to sit in the back, but we would not have that!)<br />
<br />
<br />
Duluth has a lot of hills. Not only that, but they have STOPLIGHTS IN THE MIDDLE OF HILLS. And it was February. And the three of us and the luggage wouldn't be enough weight to help the car go up if needed (even though Terri's luggage probably weighed as much as she does). After some slight fearing for our lives, we avoided a few streets and managed to drudge up to the airport to get her on her flight safely! We bid her a fond farewell and enjoyed some sightseeing and dining in Duluth before heading back to the city.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcHfnQMQ7Hbvos2uj7PtYlfiDtEy9WeIas07FuNCJDDpiQoM00TA1oFFRJ7IXz6qZCynAotdQs5oZRq-MwFunxerZicTPQxJXCqdtseNlVSBLQV0cJyctMnlNPj_tdHomccrR7z1QF6Nab/s1600/terriinthecar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcHfnQMQ7Hbvos2uj7PtYlfiDtEy9WeIas07FuNCJDDpiQoM00TA1oFFRJ7IXz6qZCynAotdQs5oZRq-MwFunxerZicTPQxJXCqdtseNlVSBLQV0cJyctMnlNPj_tdHomccrR7z1QF6Nab/s320/terriinthecar.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas photo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv9bmVGgZM8NHVaNJ2FaBg4pWKe5-tRmdR-JSFrOi9rYWgHmeWjnoWK12H216ckJYVR4nURkGyudY00zgCjiUL43-C8GgQhM2ABTWC3o0loNMZbhUbXIsn65oy4kzmSyaOdKqxb0k0NtBy/s1600/oscarparty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv9bmVGgZM8NHVaNJ2FaBg4pWKe5-tRmdR-JSFrOi9rYWgHmeWjnoWK12H216ckJYVR4nURkGyudY00zgCjiUL43-C8GgQhM2ABTWC3o0loNMZbhUbXIsn65oy4kzmSyaOdKqxb0k0NtBy/s320/oscarparty.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I lost my Oscar party again. We had a Moonlight moment when I thought Charlie won because I am bad at math, but it ended up being Joey! My grandparents and aunt and uncle came, and so did my high school friend Eva, who won my very first party back in 2004!!!!! She still has the record because I invited a lot of people that year and that was the year that <em>Lord of the Rings: Return of the King </em>won everything.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUf8aoTx6_8oGAeqxdvOL1XBJSsYebA1G0rRnWxEuDp9YGmX9cBn9vKHcHG1TxVk8oWbcixsLKI0mqaIr-yj1fXqOMYIU0wIlAber0iA2UQbLSh2pmEtB0oPe0bVTGXnGkCSZ135goVydw/s1600/hqisover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="482" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUf8aoTx6_8oGAeqxdvOL1XBJSsYebA1G0rRnWxEuDp9YGmX9cBn9vKHcHG1TxVk8oWbcixsLKI0mqaIr-yj1fXqOMYIU0wIlAber0iA2UQbLSh2pmEtB0oPe0bVTGXnGkCSZ135goVydw/s320/hqisover.jpg" width="160" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
HQ Trivia ended out of nowhere. They notified fans via a snarky push notification ON VALENTINE'S DAY. It was like when I found out Steve was dating someone else on Facebook. It has since been revived and I have yet to win, in love or trivia. I recommend listening to The Ringer's<a href="https://www.theringer.com/2020/5/20/21264390/hq-trivia-rise-fall-viral-sensation-episode-1" target="_blank"> excellent podcast about it</a>.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT95nsWl1h6VLCI3q41UaZrdQTgt7dmuM6lNZsbp97KuhH1BDf_GgTayh70xeOmM161iGriaQVXUwuucmNJP1tHSQ4fYtFxepWNcy3FVPfoU6LGbrThpPFZ4nP-iMgp7bVKj4JEpb7lGrj/s1600/dashboard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="540" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT95nsWl1h6VLCI3q41UaZrdQTgt7dmuM6lNZsbp97KuhH1BDf_GgTayh70xeOmM161iGriaQVXUwuucmNJP1tHSQ4fYtFxepWNcy3FVPfoU6LGbrThpPFZ4nP-iMgp7bVKj4JEpb7lGrj/s320/dashboard.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
My generous friend Angie surprised me with a ticket to see Dashboard Confessional. I went with Joey and a gal pal and felt all my feelings. YOU HAVE STOLEN MY HEARRRRRTTTTTTT.<br />
<br />
My store closed on St. Patrick's Day. I worked through the pandemic. I had more money than I ever had in my life. Then I took a temporary cut. I blew all of the money. I should have given it to Loretta.<br />
<br />
I am moving to a new apartment on Thursday. It is in a new neighborhood, one that I never thought would be home. It reminds me of when <i>Loring Park </i>began. Hopefully that means I will start writing again. But for how many years have I been saying that? I am so terribly unproductive. The new place is nowhere close to Loring Park. I have no friends in the neighborhood. I will be living alone for the first time since 2014. I am nervous. I also feel like I have not grown in a very long time, and sometimes we have to scare ourselves a little bit so we can do that.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />jakeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05687321925107280139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757619093854217193.post-25180957289522859182020-04-24T21:42:00.001-07:002020-07-30T12:13:14.551-07:00I Want To Talk About DickI want to talk about <i>Dick</i> and no one is going to understand me.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSEOfAtXpjkpQC6-XGNYNRzxgsHkdMNCCneoDIO7MhjPhAuZIdaARcQwTQumQlhVzbBgcgX4qfx6sXFjHmo2cdubc3XN7KfLz_5O2PeJ3VgEWjE6p6Lrvk4IBnJtwX2oa5udTvn6IrTGXu/s1600/Theatricalposterdick.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="380" data-original-width="255" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSEOfAtXpjkpQC6-XGNYNRzxgsHkdMNCCneoDIO7MhjPhAuZIdaARcQwTQumQlhVzbBgcgX4qfx6sXFjHmo2cdubc3XN7KfLz_5O2PeJ3VgEWjE6p6Lrvk4IBnJtwX2oa5udTvn6IrTGXu/s320/Theatricalposterdick.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>
<br />
My roommate Reid graciously set up a Firestick TV in my room, and I can't rave enough about the Pluto app. Or Hulu. Or anything. I'm not even working from home because I (as of today) still have a day job at a department store that is now a fulfillment center, although I haven't been showing up to all of my shifts because mental illness, but I don't like using that as an excuse. It's my job to take care of it and I have not been.<br />
<br />
Anygay, the point is that I want to talk about <i>Dick</i>.<br />
<br />
<i>Dick</i> is a comedy about two teenage girls, Arlene and Betsy (Michelle Williams and Kirsten Dunst) who unwittingly find themselves working in the Nixon White House as official dog walkers and later "youth advisors". Arlene also lives in the Watergate building, and they saw G. Gordon Liddy (Harry Shearer) there that night ...<br />
<br />
<i>Dick</i> is funny. Really funny. I don't know why Michelle Williams didn't do more comedies. She's an incredibly strong comedic actor. Arlene is kind of a dork. She falls in love with President Nixon (Dan Hedaya). Williams completely sells this awkward character. You get a feeling that she and Betsy are "besties" and only hang out with each other, although the movie doesn't explore their high school life a lot (except for when they make their bus late after the White House and they can't get McDonald's).<br />
<br />
I saw this movie in the theater, because I am an Ancient like Aeris. It was the summer of 1999. My dad took my brother and me and explained some of the jokes to us, because we didn't know very much about Watergate. Most of the comedic bits work enough that you don't need to know that much going in, but there is a gag about the 18 and a half minutes of silence on the recovered tapes that the movie serves very well.<br />
<br />
This is what interests me: <i>Dick </i>BOMBED. Released on the first Friday in August, it opened at #12, grossing $2.2 million. It went on to gross only $6.3 million, on a budget of $13 million. According to Wikipedia, TriStar marketed it to teenagers, which might have explained the lackluster box office. It's a smart political comedy, not <i>She's All That.</i> What also fascinates me is that just a month prior, Kirsten Dunst was in <i>another</i> quirky comedy that had a horrible opening and was a bomb for its studio.<br />
<br />
That movie was <i>Drop Dead Gorgeous.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Drop Dead Gorgeous</i> has since found a cult following - it is finally on Hulu after years of being famously unavailable, with its DVD out of print (I, of course, have lost both my copies). I am from Minnesota so I am biased in my love for that movie, and am always fascinated when people not from here, from Hilary Duff to <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/culture/cultural-comment/drop-dead-gorgeous-which-is-finally-streaming-is-possibly-my-favorite-movie-of-all-time" target="_blank">Jia Tolentino</a>, profess their love for it. Allison Janney has gone on record that she gets recognized more for that film than her Emmy-winning years on <i>The West Wing,</i> which had millions of viewers on weekly television.<br />
<br />
<i>Dick,</i> however, has not received that kind of residual love. It's fascinating to watch in current political times. When I watched MSNBC, Rachel Maddow often interviewed a prosecutor who worked on Watergate before the Mueller Report came out. I forget her name now. She always wears pins. Her Twitter is really fun. I am now more familiar with John Dean, who famously spoke out against Nixon. The movie portrays this very well. "You're no better than him if you stay here," Kirsten Dunst tells Jim Breuer as she is escorted out of the White House, and he sells it with a dramatic and effeminate gasp.<br />
<br />
I have somehow had Watergate randomly show up in my life last week. I thought I knew everything about Nora Ephron, but I found a Twitter feed that mentioned how she told everyone for years that Deep Throat was Mark Felt. She was married to Carl Bernstein (played here by Bruce McCulloch, with Will Ferrell as Bob Woodward, and they're absolutely hilarious), and after their messy divorce she would just tell everyone casually at dinner parties.<br />
<br />
I have read <i>Heartburn</i> 50 times. I never realized that she names the husband in that book Mark Feldman.<br />
<br />
I have also been listening to a podcast called "Trashy Divorces". There is a lady named Martha Mitchell that I can't believe they haven't made a movie about. Her husband worked for Nixon. She knew about everything. She would get drunk and call reporters. Her husband hired a body man who kicked her in the ribs. He is now working in the Trump Administration as an ambassador to what I want to say is Croatia, but don't quote me.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I wanted to talk about <i>Dick.</i> It's really funny and available on Pluto, and I hope it someday gets the recognition it deserves. I was obsessed with "You're So Vain" as a teenager, and this movie was my first exposure to it. It is used perfectly here.<br />
<br />
But you gave away the things you loved<br />
And one of them was me<br />
<br />
<iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/gS1AjkXISV4" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
<i>Dick</i> is available on Pluto TV.jakeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05687321925107280139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757619093854217193.post-76528758411236654902020-02-06T19:42:00.000-08:002020-07-30T12:13:16.532-07:0033 And MeSomewhere, in my archives of Google Docs, is the long blog I had been procrastinating for months. It would have been like all the other episodes, just six times as long. Here is my Pride. Here is my birthday, Here was my summer.<br />
<br /><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
And then I would have Christmas and then New Year's. And if I wait any longer, I will be writing to you about all of my adventures at the senior living center.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /><br />
Perhaps I still could summon up those memories and those feelings, just to help us fill in the blanks. i have a draft of "the lost episode" that I could possibly return to and post (I was at least half done with it, honest!) But it's more important that I get back to what I used to do, which was update every few weeks with our cast of characters as I attempted to chronicle life in an interesting way.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /><br />
It got dark for a while. Some of this might be written about further if I recap the summer and fall and early winter and post that one, but for now we will just do some Cliffs Notes:<br />
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Steve stayed with Jaxon and they had Pride and vacations and I never apologized and I still let it consume 80% of my natural thoughts. After 14 months of cohabitation, he told me via text message at 7:14 AM that they had "decided to date". After 14 months of trying to get used to it, I still reacted like a mix of Betty Broderick and Stacy from <em>Wayne's World.</em> And I hate that this is the lead story, but it's also the elephant in the room and the Band-Aid to rip off.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>You know how they say that gay men can't donate blood? Well, they can, if they haven't had intercourse in a year. I got to month eleven and week four before having two horrible hook-ups (one of which led to the end of a yearslong friendship, which I sadly regret) but then a week after that I hooked up with a nice man who insisted on hanging up the suit I was wearing before any funny business ensued and when I asked to use his shower the next morning, he earnestly told me that he had AXE Body Wash. I am planning a June wedding.</li>
</ul>
<br /><br />
<ul>
<li>After over a year of terrorizing my parents, hating myself, and maxing out my credit card by staying at The Westin on Pride and my birthday and at the AC Marriott when I was just mad at Loretta, I finally moved out in August! Reid and I got an apartment in Whittier. He found it and therefore his room is twice the size of mine, For the first month, my TV didn't even work because the outlet in my room wasn't connected to anything. They told us we had parking and they LIED, but we got our rent discounted and I told myself that would make up for the nights of circling the neighborhood. It is a three-story brownstone that reminds me of New York, and I am going to get a butt like a hockey player by walking up and down the steps for a year.</li>
<li>Speaking of hockey players, Broski visited me at the mall a lot over Christmas and I yelled at him for leaving the price tag on the gift for his mother and then he started swearing too loud while we were at the wrapping station. I still think he's handsome but I don't have 2013 sad feelings for him anymore. He still cracks me up and was my default New Year's kiss, but not in a gay way. I think.<br /></li>
<li>I went to Las Vegas by myself to see Mariah Carey because Darren couldn't go at the last minute. For a horrifying 25 minutes, I lost my wallet. The Christmas concert was everything. I cried. I also went to the Mob Museum.</li>
</ul>
<br /><br />
<ul>
<li>I missed my flight on the way back from Vegas by ten minutes. I was house sitting for Sean because he lives a mile away from my work. House sitting isn't the right term, because I don't do anything remotely helpful other than taking the garbage out. Anygay, the next day I woke up late for work, didn't feel like going to work or acknowledging anything or anyone, and I turned off my phone and slept facedown in his bed all day until the sun went down. This was enough to warrant a welfare check from the Bloomington Police Department, who, in all seriousness, were very courteous and respectful.</li>
</ul>
<br /><br />
<ul>
<li>Reid has done a lot more comedy shows and I hope to be more productive in that arena of my life this year. I went to the New Years Comedy Brunch for ten minutes and didn't eat or drink anything and I only said hi to Tiffany Norton and Mischa Estrin. </li>
</ul>
<br /><br />
<ul>
<li>OH, I WAS STILL HORRIBLE TO STEVE AND COULDN'T GET OVER IT. Literally every gay man you know has had a relationship end and likely seen their previous lover make a new life with someone nicer and younger, and who hasn't had it happen when the previous partner's new partner enters the shower contest on the same night you headline LUSH on Pride weekend and it reminds you that your talent doesn't matter compared to how well you take a picture of yourself naked on a kitchen table with a Stoli bottle covering your genitalia? It is a story as old as time. I even tried taking such a photo of myself in the same vein, but it didn't work as well with a bottle of Absolut and our apartment isn't big enough for a kitchen table. At least I was able to legally drink mine.</li>
</ul>
<br /><br />
<ul>
<li>I could not be on time for work to save my life. I did not care about anything. My sleeping habits were atrocious.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
As you may infer from this truncated account of 2019, things were not going great. I began DBT (dialectical behavioral therapy) in October. You will be shocked to learn that I was very late when I got to the intake, and a well-dressed woman my mother's age was not impressed. I then felt that weird sensation that I was answering everything wrong. "That seems pretty moderate," she said when I said how I would book hotel rooms every time I felt upset, or that I often punched myself in my head when I felt overwhelmed with my emotions. None of this ever happened when I was a teenager or in my twenties. I did not get it.<br />
<br /><br />
I go for three hours every Wednesday morning. It is in a group setting, and that's about the only details I can provide due to confidentiality reasons. There was always a feeling that these people have it way worse than me with their life situations -- imagine speaking after someone shares details of family abuse or a hellish custody battle and then you have to say "I'm sad about a <em>dude",</em> but the ultimate goal was to correct my behavior and thought patterns. I don't know. We'll see. I don't think anything changed, and I am sad to tell you such news. <br />
<br /><br />
During your third week of group, you will get a sheet of paper that tells you all of your diagnoses. It is for insurance reasons, and therefore no one sits you down and asks you what you think about it. Some of it (Alcohol Use Disorder, General Anxiety Disorder) was a no-brainer. Borderline Personality Disorder wasn't a surprise but still bummed me out. Bipolar II Disorder, just like ADHD did, explained how damn erratic I was all through high school and my three failed years of college. None of this, mind you, is a Get Out of Jail Free card for my horrendous life decisions, conduct, or inability to let go of things.<br />
<br /><br />
But, yes, that was my year. I'm sorry I didn't write. I had good times in there, don't get me wrong, and I can't wait to get back to normal like how we were from 2012-2017 (did I mention <em>Loring Park: Vol. 1, </em>available with typos and names I forgot to change, is available on Amazon? And that I should go fix that stuff before you order and if I ever attempt to do a Volume II?). On Tuesday, Reid, Randall and I went to an open mike and Chuck and Raymond met us at the 19 and a boy at the open mike who looks like an Abercrombie & Fitch bag and whose real name sounds like it's out of an '80s teen romance novel joined us because he thought there was another comedy show there and I made him play darts with us instead. It reminded me that life can still surprise us, and you can't make this stuff up if you tried. Also, Chuck would have won the first game of Gotcha but Reid accidentally pushed the screen to demonstrate how to get a double so we had to start all over, and the second time I won, and that's when you <em>really</em> can't make this stuff up.<br />
<br /><br />
I bit my lip so much it looks like I have scurvy.<br />
<br /><br />
I wish you all a prosperous and happy 2020.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<ul>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<ul>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />jakeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05687321925107280139noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757619093854217193.post-77464841704067060722019-07-11T18:41:00.002-07:002020-07-30T12:13:18.494-07:00Loring Park 2019<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">ello,
dear reader. We are at the halfway point of summer. I feel I have nothing to be
proud of. However, the last six months have been very evetful. While I
apologize for how abridged this will be, I am blessed to have visited two
different cities, stayed at the Westin two weeks in a row (I CAN EXPLAIN), and
saw several amazing shows, including one by the legendary Mariah NoLastName
Carey.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span><br />
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">So if I
focus on all of this stuff and not the fact that my finances and profession
have not improved in any way, and that I still have invested far too much time
and energy and ideas of self-worth in <b>THE THING, </b>life isn’t half-bad.
Let’s begin.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<b><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">The Princess of Arizona</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/v6Oov1YY9MQ/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/v6Oov1YY9MQ?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<i><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">There is no Arizona</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<i><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">No painted desert, no sedona</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<i><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">If there was a Grand Canyon</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<i><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">She could fill it up with the lies he told her</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<i><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">But they don’t exist</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<i><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Those dreams they sold her</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<i><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">She’ll wake up and find there is no Arizona</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Remember
for my third annual 29th birthday when my brother gave me tickets to the Royal
Rumble and a life showing of the “There’s Something to Wrestle With” podcast?
That time of year finally came!</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I was
leery of traveling alone with my brother. The last trips I have taken were with
any combination of Jared, Steve, and Joey, and you want to travel with your
friends that know your quirks. (For example, Jared is going to sleep all the
time but he’s gonna help me pack my bags in the morning. Joey will flirt with
dangerous strangers but will be open for any new ideas. Steve is a Virgo and
they make very good traveling buddies when it comes to logistics). My brother …
I didn’t know. It was a city I wasn’t familiar with at all. I am a space cadet
and he has a short fuse. Like Lilliputian short.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">So of
course it was a great omen that I couldn’t find my debit card right before we
left, and that I didn’t realize this until we were already on the way to pick
him up. We raced back to the house but it was nowhere to be found. My mother
spotted my hopeless ass some cash. Then there was major traffic on the freeway
(our flight left on a Saturday afternoon) and I was terrified of missing it. We
were flying out of Terminal 2 via Sun Country, so having CLEAR wouldn’t benefit
me this time. We made it to the flight with much time to spare, because it
ended up being delayed, and we sat on the runway for what felt like forever. We
were toward the back, surrounded by a screaming baby and an obnoxious dude who
was trying to talk to everyone while we were in line, and then he kept talking
his seatmate’s ear off about his personal training career and his Instagram and
I ALREADY WANTED TO DIEEEEEEEE.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I had
booked the hotel, and then the hotel had a hard time finding my reservation (I
had booked it through Hotels Tonight), and by the time we finally got to the
room, we realized it only had one bed. It would have been great if I were
traveling with Finn Balor, but I was with my BROTHER. Also, I did not
understand the shower at all - it was like an open room and you could sit down
in it and everything, and there was a full-length mirror so you were forced to
look at your own naked body the entire time. I added it to my Instagram story
(a video of just the shower itself, not ME showering -- save that for the
OnlyFans gays!) and a friend of mine with a sex life messaged me that “Jakey,
that’s a fuck-me shower”. I know nothing!</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I bought
far too expensive shaving cream at the airport but didn’t buy a liquor bottle,
and then I wanted to buy a bottle of vodka and the liquor store wasn’t within
walking distance. My brother thought the idea of drinking in the room was a
ridiculous concept. And maybe it was, but, again, I always travel with The
Gays, and pre-gaming in the room has always been a thing. I took an Uber to the
liquor store and got the same sexy sexy Guatemalan driver both times. Also, IN
PHOENIX THEY HAVE DRIVE-UP LIQUOR STORES. WHAT IN THE WHAT.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I met up
with Dane at the hotel bar, and then we didn’t even go out! We didn’t use the
pool, either, because it was a very homophobic 50 degrees. We were surprised by
how tired we both were, but we had just turned 32 and a half the week prior.
Also, Phoenix is in Mountain Time so <i>Saturday Night Live</i> airs, y’know,
LIVE, at 9:30 PM and I really think that just threw off my entire circadian
rhythm. (I wish we had gone out, because my friend The Jason was out both
nights and I didn’t get to see him. Boo!)</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">The next
day was Rumble day! First, we walked around downtown Phoenix, where there was a
bunch of signage for the Royal Rumble and WWE (similar to what Minneapolis has
done when hosting things like the Final Four, All-Star Game, or Super Bowl. And
yes, this is the most I have ever discussed sports in one blog. Come on in,
gays, the water’s fine). Then we went to the Something to Wrestle With podcast,
which was at a famous comedy club and now the name escapes me. The meet and
greet was in the morning before the show, but Dane thought it was after so we
missed it. Ugh!</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">The
hosts, the affable Conrad Thompson and Bruce Pritchard (who, we would late
learn, was finalizing meetings that weekend to re-join WWE as a writer), were
great. They did their usual banter and then opened the floor up to questions. I
raised my hand and a microphone was quickly put in my face. No pressure!</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">“Who
surprised you the most by how good or how bad they were when they had to do an
acting performance?” I asked. A big part of wrestling is the storyline aspect,
the drama or soap opera if you will, and it’s always interesting to see who
excels and falters.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">“Great
question,” said Bruce, and I felt like a star student. He said that Shawn
Stasiak couldn’t talk to save his life, and Vickie Guerrero surprised him the
most -- she even came up with the idea to be a TV character. (A woman with
unconventional looks for the product, she had amazing heat as a heel during her
run. If you don’t know what those words mean, why are you even reading the
wrestling section of this blog?)</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">“Also, we
want to thank you for betraying the stereotype about wrestling fans and
bringing a Y chromosome in here,” said Conrad. It was a smart joke about me
being a woman. You see, he couldn’t see me from the stage -- we were close, but
I know from experience what lighting in a comedy club is like. This was similar
to ACME Comedy Club, and you can only see the first two rows (if that) because
of how things were lit. I hadn’t used my “dude voice” or lowered my register in
any capacity, so it was an uncomfortable moment of misgendering, but I wasn’t <i>upset</i>
by it. The people at our table awkwardly murmured, and I quickly hoped for the
next question.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">“HE
THINKS YOU’RE A GIRL,” Dane said loud enough that they could hear him in
Flagstaff.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">“Yeah, I
got it,” I said. I forgave Conrad immediately but now I was pissed at Dane.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">The Q
& A was still enjoyable until maybe the last few questions. Something
to Wrestle With is one of the top, if not <i>the</i> top, pro wrestling
podcast. Everyone wants a piece of that pie, right? So everyone with the last
few questions (all dudes, mind you, so Conrad had a point, although there were
two women with their boyfriends or husbands at our table -- the inverse of a <i>My
Favorite Murder</i> live podcast) felt it was necessary to, before asking their
question, PLUG THEIR OWN PODCAST BEFORE THE QUESTION. One dude had such a long
preamble I thought I was on <i>Game of Thrones.</i></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Bruce
signed 8 x 10’s for the VIP’s after the show, and was very nice to my brother
and me. I even joked that I was the lady who asked the first question.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">We soon
walked to Chase Field, where it was time for the Royal Rumble! The line was
insanely long, and Dane and I quickly walked around the building and used the
side entrance that no one else seemed to be using. Fools, all of them!</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I won’t
bore with you with details of the entire show, but I will share the highlights
and lowlights.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Highlights:</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;"><br />
*The first match being Asuka vs. Becky Lynch, because when Asuka was here for
TLC in Minneapolis in her WWE debut, I WAS IN LINE FOR MINI DONUTS.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">*My
husband Finn Balor.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">*Seeing
Ronda Rousey live was a real treat.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">*The boy
next to me who drove up from Mexico and knew the product way better than I did,
especially a lot of the surprise entrants in the women’s royal rumble from NXT
or NXT UK, who I knew hardly anything about.,</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
</span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">*The boy
next to Dane who may have been on the spectrum and watched it like it was real.
He would say things like “I don’t like Alexa Bliss because she is a brat”, and
his enthusiasm was infectious.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/_GdwbLatfmw/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/_GdwbLatfmw?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">*NIA JAX
ENTERING THE MEN’S ROYAL RUMBLE AT #30, ELIMINATING MUSTAFA ALI, THEN TAKING A
SUPERKICK, THE 619, AND THE RKO. THE CROWD WENT APESH FOR ALL OF THIS.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">BECKY
LYNCH TAKING LANA’S SPOT AND ENTERING THE ROYAL RUMBLE AND WINNING THE ROYAL
RUMBLE. THE CROWD WENT APESHIT FOR ALL OF THIS. It was one of those things in
wrestling where the outcome is a foregone conclusion but the execution is so
great that it doesn’t matter.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Lowlights:</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">The show
was way too damn long. My brother argued that it was the structure of the show
(two rumble matches on one card, for one thing), but there were too many
matches as well. WrestleMania was even longer, to the point that the main event
started at MIDNIGHT and thousands of people were stranded in the New Jersey
rain because the last train had already departed.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">The
Women’s Royal Rumble had surprise entrants with new wrestlers, but no one came
back for a surprise, unlike last year which had Trish, Lita, Torrie Wilson,
Jacqueline, et cetera. That was a major letdown.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">THE
ABSOLUTE NIGHTMARE OF A WOMAN SITTING IN FRONT OF US. During the very first
match, my brother cheered and she turned around and told him to be quiet. We
were at a WWE pay-per-view in a baseball stadium, not a freaking library. At
first I felt bad for not responding, but Dane held his own very well, and she
never complained during the rest of the show. The girl behind us also made
snarky comments, so it was like we were all on the same side. I also found it
notable that her husband and twentysomething kids were stone cold silent the
entire time, as if they expected it. Literally ten seconds before Seth Rollins
won the men’s royal rumble, thereby ending the show, she turned to her husband
and said they should leave to beat the traffic. He rolled his eyes and got up
without saying anything. He was used to this. “Or we can wait,” she said,
therefore making it all his fault. They left and the show was over before they
probably got to the top of the stairs. The woman was <i>terrible </i>and I
wanted to apologize to Steve for every single stupid fight we ever had.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">As for
the flight back home, I am a slow riser in the morning, so Dane called my bluff
when I told him to go without me. I made my flight back by the skin of my
teeth. I used CLEAR at the airport, had to dump out all the liquids in my bag
(including the expensive shaving cream and the bottle of vodka), and yelled
“Fuck you” to Dane as I made it to the gate with two seconds to spare. I had
become the horrible woman from the wrestling show! When I told Dane the
following week that we should go the Royal Rumble in Houston, he said “we’re
not flying together and we’re getting separate rooms” and I didn’t put up a
fight.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">____</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">
</span><br />
<hr align="center" size="8" width="100%" />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8aYSpWf-85geGLN4-2RFA57TwVwKryyIspY8BreH4UdMbF0bednqhKMQXguWrVc86ruM7mqC7-pTXonFo1dQNfG9lpb4ZCpcaRrZDMc373aD-PEIcSeJFllGK71WvE_HsL3UrOPymRmNh/s1600/dqgn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="621" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8aYSpWf-85geGLN4-2RFA57TwVwKryyIspY8BreH4UdMbF0bednqhKMQXguWrVc86ruM7mqC7-pTXonFo1dQNfG9lpb4ZCpcaRrZDMc373aD-PEIcSeJFllGK71WvE_HsL3UrOPymRmNh/s320/dqgn.jpg" width="207" /></a></div>
</div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I
returned to Drag Queen Game Night, which made its triumphant return to The
Saloon after a 3-year (?) hiatus. I was honored to be asked to be in the return
cast, which B. Louise told me she thought of very carefully and specifically.
Then in December, she said she was so excited for me to be there and that she
hoped I got called up to play games. “B, I’m in the show,” I said, and she was
mortified. I still made sure I said it onstage because that shit is funny, and
she was an excellent sport about it.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">“Tonight
is 18+ night until 10:00, and then we have to kick all the underagers out,” I
said. “Which will be great because we’ll watch all the creepy guys follow them
out the door right away. Where do all the little underagers go after 10:00? I’m
just kidding. I know. The answer is my ex-boyfriend’s house.” Old grudges die
hard. Half the room laughed and the other half gasped and kind of groaned, and <i>I
didn't care. </i>My ex-boyfriend’s boyfriend’s ex-boyfriend was in the show as
one of the go-go dancers with HIS ex-boyfriend who became his new boyfriend
again and he didn’t think it was funny, either. This is all completely normal.
“At least we’re winning,” he said during intermission, and my team won 5 out of
6 games and I got paid a hefty win bonus, SO THERE. Also, go to Drag Queen Game
Night next time it’s in town. Delta Mu works hard, treats their cast like
royalty, and it’s a great time.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I had fun
with my friends that stayed, then went back to my room at the AC Marriott like
a sad clown. However, the following day would be better because I was sharing a
room with Jared across town at the Radisson Red as he was celebrating his
birthday! Unfortunately, his bag was at his friend’s house and it was a major
snafu getting that together, so we stopped at Target for essentials and then
went to Joey’s dodgeball game. That’s right, Joey joined an intramural
dodgeball league and we wanted to be supportive like proud helicopter parents.
I thought there would be bleachers to sit on, but instead we had to sit on the
sidelines and I was mortified, not just about getting hit in the head, but
about touching the ball in any way because I didn’t want to disrupt gameplay or
ruin the outcome at all. 70% of the dodgeball players could have kicked my ass
(that does not include Joey). One player looked like he was about 12 and my
Cancerian instincts made me sad every time he got eliminated. “Not my special
boy!” I may have cried out at one point.,</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">We napped
at the very fancy Raddison Red, then went to The Eagle to watch the Super Bowl.
Steve showed up for a little bit and then said he was bringing his boyfriend to
The Saloon, and I got so anxious that I bit my lip so bad to the point it
looked like a puffer fish. They didn’t show up anyway.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Birthdays
continued as Sean and Casey celebrated upon the entrance of Pisces Season.
Their birthdays are two days apart, so they usually have a joint birthday
party. I was anxious at their last birthday, too, and that was for no reason at
all! I am burying the lead, that I was still acting horrendous to Steve and
constantly shitposting and <i>not letting things the fuck go. </i>I knew he was
going to the party. I didn’t know if he was bringing the boyfriend, because I deleted
both of them on Snapchat during a therapy session because Steve was arguing
with me about a Tweet about a Snapchat while I was on my way to therapy in a
blizzard, but then I added Steve a few hours later anyway. But I felt it would
have been immature to text Casey or Sean or Charlie asking them if he was
there. What should I name him? I could give him a very trendy, sexy twink name.
Jaxon. Let’s go with Jaxon. I tried to be cute and ask Sean if they were at The
Saloon yet, and he encouraged me to just go to the apartment. Sigh.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Sean
lived above the Whole Foods, so I bought a bottle of vodka as a birthday gift.
WE CARD ANYONE WHO LOOKS UNDER 35, their sign said in capital letters, and I
was not carded. Did I mention I was obsessing about not being 20? </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I knocked
on the door and walked into a game of Catchphrase. Casey was there with his
handsome boyfriend Mark, and Sean was there with his handsome friend Dragon,
and Charlie was there, and Steve was there with Jaxon. I avoided eye contact
and immediately started pouring a drink after giving my gifts, then joined in
the game of Catchphrase, where you had to drink if it got buzzed out on you.
The adults had booze and Jaxon had a Capri Sun juice box. I WANTED TO JUMP OUT
THE WINDOW.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia8wSLgipkJCzoEWvVZFMl7O4-mhUUY2krZJymypUsMKJTdb0hk9TKO8c348znughLiBwe73B33DkSBFLQcY8ILuWTdefCCCyGPmhCB1QD1LmMAe_gI8o0Jp0K3AL3K0W8uFBDYBy_iZ4f/s1600/jumpoutwindow.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="480" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia8wSLgipkJCzoEWvVZFMl7O4-mhUUY2krZJymypUsMKJTdb0hk9TKO8c348znughLiBwe73B33DkSBFLQcY8ILuWTdefCCCyGPmhCB1QD1LmMAe_gI8o0Jp0K3AL3K0W8uFBDYBy_iZ4f/s320/jumpoutwindow.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I decided
that defenestration would have inconvenienced the birthday party, so I stood
between the birthday boys like they were sturdy railings. I could handle this
awkwardness and be pleasant and fun to be around. Also, who doesn’t love
Catchphrase?</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">“I want
this so I don’t ever have to work again,” Jaxon giggled when it was time to
give his clue.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">“SUGAR
DADDY,” everyone yelled, and I instinctively threw a napkin at Steve.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Later, we played a music game via Apple Music
so Sean had to lend me his iPhone as my trashy self still has an Android.
Everyone born before 1998 enjoyed it. “I only know songs from, like, last
year,” Jaxon whined as he continued getting last place. “Or things about
make-up.” Steve looked at him lovingly as if he had just won the Nobel Prize
for Literature. I swallowed my own screams. Charlie wowed all of us by
correctly identifying the most hip-hop songs of the early ‘90s. Who knew??
Steve and Jaxon left without saying good-bye and when I later texted Steve to
inform him that an architect designs buildings and Dick Cheney was the 43rd
Vice President of the United States, it was for absolutely no reason.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Sean’s
birthday celebrations continued later that month at The Saloon, when we
accidentally ended up in The Tank! Sean bought a harness. I walked around
shirtless and terrified everyone. It felt like we were in a <i>Golden Girls</i>
episode, like the one where they end up at the nudist colony. Then Broski
messaged me that he was at the ‘90s with Todd. I panicked when I stood in line
at the ‘90s and realized I didn’t have my ID! The bouncer had just turned
someone away with no ID! I convinced the bouncer that I used to work here once
a week for a year, honest, and I narrated bad gay porn because my parents are
very proud! He let me in and it was a thrill to see all my favorite queens,
including our own Mercedes Iman Diamond, now an international superstar.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I did not
have a Valentine.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">_______</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">March was
a month of CONCERTS! I panicked because my work schedule got screwed up despite
my asking for a bunch of nights off. It all ultimately worked out, and I was
thankful to my boss. Dane and I ventured to St. Paul to see Robyn! Dane
actually was a Robyn fan before I was and saw her famous show at First Avenue.
We agreed that we would see her together if she ever came back to town … and
then she didn’t for eight years! Robyn was going through it for a while. Every
interview I read with her was more melancholy than the last. “I was under a
blanket of sadness and I could not get out of it,” she would tell a reporter
wondering why her newest album wasn’t as fast as <i>Body Talk.</i></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">We had
pre-drinks at Amsterdam (maybe too many). My friend Ashley was there and she
was with all the attractive Instagays and even asked if I wanted to walk with
them, but Dane just ordered a fruity drink! We ran to Walgreens and were annoying
customers who ran in at the last minute. We needed energy drinks because we are
in our thirties now.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">The
opener was a DJ, and the venue is standing only. We were anxious because we
didn’t know when she was starting! Also, it was raining very heavily so the
weather necessitated bringing coats, and the line was rather long. I didn’t
mind so much because I got to see Detox when she walked in, as she was
headlining the afterparty later that night. I also had my former journalism
ears at high alert. “When she does ‘Dancing on My Own’,” a young woman advised
her companion, “That’s when you want to get in line for coat check.” I usually
don’t like knowing a setlist when I go to a concert as I love the element of
surprise, but I felt this was a very helpful tip. All I could think of when I
was in the long line for coat check was how much this was going to suck after
the concert was over to get our coats back.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I won’t
be able to do the Robyn concert justice as it’s been too long, but <a href="http://www.citypages.com/music/robyn-offers-shortcuts-to-ecstasy-at-her-euphoric-palace-performance/506763381"><span style="color: blue; margin: 0px;">this review</span></a> sums up the experience perfectly.
Dane and I were on the floor but in the back nestled between tall people. For a
few minutes I was bummed because I wasn’t dancing with the beautiful Instagays,
but then I realized that was <i>crap. </i>Dane is the biggest Robyn superfan I
know, regardless of gender or sexual orientation, and if I wasn’t with him
during the concert, I would have been texting him the entire time.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<i><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I’m in the corner</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<i><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Watching you kiss her</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<i><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I’m right over here</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<i><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Why can’t you see me</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">The new
Palace Theater in St. Paul was purchased by the owners of First Avenue.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<i><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">So far away but still so near</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<i><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">The lights go on, the music dies</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<i><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">But you don’t see me standing here</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<i><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I just came to say good-bye</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">They made
out right in front of me last time I was at First Avenue! That is so fucking
rank. He would always claim neither one of them saw me coming. I will always
think they knew. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">It’s been
six months. Why am I still so hurt by the whole thing as if it was yesterday?
Why can’t I move on?</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/eu5s_0T5pig/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/eu5s_0T5pig?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<br />
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Old
wounds die hard. Also: Go to the First Avenue exhibit at the St. Paul
Historical Center! Charlie and I went and you can share your First Avenue
memories, and I do have other ones besides Steve and Jaxon sucking face,
including going to a wrestling show and Molly Holly taking a picture of me with
Sunny!</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: 18pt; margin: 0px;">Robyn's <span style="color: black; margin: 0px;">dancer came to the aftershow and did the “Human Being”
dance with Detox! It was everything.</span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<i><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I’m giving it my all</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<i><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">But I’m not the girl you’re taking home</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<i><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I keep dancing on my own</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">____</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">The
concerts continued when my good judy Darren and I went to go see MARIAH
FREAKING CAREY. Seeing her twice in one year? Never let me complain.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/0w_I1mnlXBw/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/0w_I1mnlXBw?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Darren’s
friends are all very nice, but every time we hang out the socioeconomic
differences are very apparent, especially since the pre-show meal was at Marin.
And I got there before Darren! I got the least expensive thing on the menu. I
overdrafted that night anyway, but my GTFO hoodie and tote bag was worth it! So
there!</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Mariah
started an hour late, but for her, that is on time. And she was sooo good. Oh
my god. I sincerely apologize to the man sitting next to me, as I knew all the
words to everything. It was very different from her Vegas show, because on this
one she strayed away from her famous songs and just did whatever the hell she
wanted to, including a deep cut from the <i>Me. I am Mariah: The Elusive
Chanteuse </i>album, which I listened to eight thousand times in a different
painful chapter of my life. SHE ALSO DID AN ENTIRE GLITTER MEDLEY!!!
#justiceforglitter </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Darren
was the perfect person to attend with, as he is just as much of a lamb as I am
and he can actually hit the high register notes and sound like he is singing.
I, on the other hand, sounded like a feral kitten with its tail stepped on. But
did that stop me? Hell no! COME BACK BABY PLEASE CUZ WE BELONG
TOGETHERRRRRRRRRR</span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I was
beginning to feel a bit under the weather later that week, but I thought I was
just tired. My boss asked if I could come in at 9 AM and work a half shift that
Saturday. I was pensive, because Charlie and I were going to Turtle Lake the
night before to see Jo Dee Messina, but my boss had been so flexible, and I
thought it best to recipirocate. On the way to the concert, my stomach was
hurting, so Charlie and I stopped at a gas station to get some Tums. The
concert was fun and Jo Dee Messina was great. (Also, she started ON TIME and
went 50 minutes) I gambled a little bit on <i>The Voice</i> slot machine, but
stopped when my $20 went down to $7.15 (my birthday!), as I declared that to be
a sign.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">The next
morning, I was absolutely exhausted at work. “You look TERRIBLE,” said a
co-worker. I chalked it up to no sleep and took a quick catnap at home while
waiting for Jared, who was making his way to my place before we drove down to
the Westin in my Honda Fit named Richard.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span><br />
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I’m
sorry, children. I killed Mona, my beloved Toyota Yaris. I didn’t look when
they towed her away. I cried and cried. Richard is a four-door, but it’s a
subcompact so I still can’t drive passengers for Uber or Lyft! Steve even
graciously sent me a referral code despite my chronic assholism. Spell check
did not come for assholism, which I find interesting. Huh.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Anyway,
Jared and I went to The Westin and I napped and pre-gamed, and the theme was
SHORT SHORTS, so we wore somewhat decent clothing and met up with Joey at First
Avenue for their Flip Phone show! Farrah Moan and Phi Phi O’Hara were great.
Jared wasn’t feeling well and went home earlier, and Joey and I went to The
Saloon, where we had a conversation so deep that I didn’t even talk to Broski!</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I woke up
the next morning feeling TERRIBLE. And not in a hangover way, but in a way that
was like part anxiety attack, part paralysis, part fever, part begging for
death. Jared was watching <i>Keeping Up with the Kardashians </i>and I
kept having a fever dream that I was on the show.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">___</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JAKEY, JOEY, and JARED are all sitting at a
fancy table in a Casablasas home.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JOEY: So, like, what’s going on with you and
Steve? I don’t think you should even be talking to him anymore.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JARED: I, like, don’t get it. Oh my god, Joey.
Your hair.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JOEY: Thanks. I went to John Paul Sebastian on
Sunset.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JAKEY: You guys, stop judging me. It’s St.
Patrick’s Day. We should all be friends. Do you know I’m way more Irish than I
thought I was?</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JOEY: That explains your drinking.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JARED: My mother is Irish. I’m, like, offended.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JOEY: Aren’t you, like, everything?</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JARED: If you just want to be nice to him, then
you, like, need to be nice to Jaxon.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JAKEY: I am <i>so</i> nice to Jaxon. I never
said anything derogatory. To his face.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JARED: Girl, your Twitter.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<i><span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Jared pulls up his phone and scrolls through
Jakey’s Twitter feed.</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JARED: Note the time stamps are all between 2
and 6 A.M., Donald Trump.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JAKEY: I have feelings about the whole thing.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JOEY: You’re allowed to have feelings. You don’t
need to broadcast them to everyone constantly.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JAKEY: Spoken like a true Irish Catholic.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JARED: If you’re gonna be angry, you need to be
angry at Steve and no one else. Jaxon didn’t do anything to you.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JAKEY: All the pictures, and the posing, and the
posting ….</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JARED: Was it on your wall? Did he tag you? Send
them to you directly? Nothing to you. It’s all about Steve.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JAKEY: Not a good movie.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JOEY: No.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JARED: Do you think anyone else is gonna want to
date you if you’re showing your crazy on full display? You’re supposed to hide
that until they’re already sucked in!</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JOEY: You don’t need to look at me when you say
that.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JARED: Yeah, Steve should have let you know
about Jaxon from himself instead of Facebook. He didn’t. But guess what? It’s
been six months. You’re 32, he’s 20, and guess who’s acting more mature?</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JAKEY: … Me? </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<i><span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">KRIS JENNER walks in.</span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">KRIS JENNER: Hey, girls. What are you doing in
my house?</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JAKEY: This isn’t my house?</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">KRIS JENNER: No. Your net worth is -$15,000.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JAKEY: Oh, I’m not a rich author in this dream
sequence?</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JARED: Jakey, everything in this house is white!
You wouldn’t last a day without spilling!</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">KRIS JENNER: But you’re still my good
friend. You look terrible.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JAKEY: Do you have a surgeon you can recommend?</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">KRIS JENNER: No, like, you look ill. <i>Kris
puts her hand on his forehead. </i>Oh my god. You guys. Have you gone to an
urgent care?</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JAKEY: But, Kris Jenner! It’s St. Patrick’s Day!</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">KRIS JENNER: Oh my god. Has no one called
Loretta?</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JARED: You’re friends with Loretta in this
dream?</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">KRIS JENNER: I have a feeling she can’t stand
me, but yes.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">CONFESSIONAL - LORETTA</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">LORETTA: Kris Jenner only calls me for two
reasons: When something is wrong with Jacob, or when Khloe’s bowel movements
are irregular. Can you fix this lighting? I look like I’ve had a bunch of work
done and I don’t like it.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JAKEY: What do you and Loretta even do?</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">KRIS JENNER: We’re in the same bowling league
and in a group for mothers concerned about their mentally ill adult children. I
counted Kanye as mine. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JAKEY: I’m really dizzy …</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">KRIS JENNER: Oh my god. Did you get your flu
shot?</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JAKEY: Whatt …..?</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JOEY: The flu? Again?</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JARED: Germs!!!!!</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JAKEY: Let’s text Steve and blame him and Jaxon
for this.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "courier new"; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">JOEY, JARED, & KRIS: No!!!!!</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">_____</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Yes,
children. For the second spring in a row, I was diagnosed with Influenza. Last
year it was Influenza B like a rare seal, but this year it was good old boring
Influenza A. GET YOUR FLU SHOT. I went home but told Jared he could keep the
hotel room for the night. It was already booked, and I didn’t think he was
gonna get extravagant room service (if anything, I shouldn’t have rented <i>Can
You Ever Forgive Me</i>?, which I slept through even though I had already read
the screenplay)</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">There is
no FOMO like an alcoholic with the flu on St. Patrick’s Day. It was like being
a sick child on Christmas. I missed two days at work and laid in bed as a
shivering mess. A year before, I had the flu on Valentine’s Day! I should
already prepare on having it for Easter next year to complete the spring
holiday trifecta.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">_____</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I ended
April by celebrating Reid’s birthday in Chicago! I was so proud of myself for
booking my own flight on Southwest Airlines. It’s the little things, really,
when you forget how to be an adult for a year. Reid was brought to the Windy
City by his work and thought it would be fun to have me as a sidekick for
Saturday and Sunday while we stayed in an apartment building. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I had
never flown Southwest before, but boarding wasn’t as awkward as I thought it
would be. The only drawback was that, IN THE LAST WEEKEND OF APRIL, it was
snowing!!!! My flight was only delayed by half an hour but I chose to take it
as an insult, especially since other people I know were going to be vacationing
in Florida a week later.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I took
the orange train to meet Reid at “our” apartment, and I didn’t screw up until I
got off the train for my stop and went the wrong way on the street. At this
point, I impressed myself with my savvy and took a taxi cab to the apartment!
Reid was resting as his actual birthday was the night before, and we had a nice
quiet day before going <i>shopping!</i> We went to Nordstrom and Nordstrom Rack
and walked by stores where we couldn’t afford socks. Then we went to Boystown
where shared an UberPOOL with a cute boy with a very WASPY name but now I can’t
remember it, because this is what happens when you destroy your brain with
alcohol and blog every six months instead of every week. Sigh. Tanner? Carter?
Something third generation like that. Then we went home and <i>All About Steve</i>
was on TV, and it really <i>is</i> a bad movie.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">The next
day we went to breakfast at Lou Mitchell’s, an iconic restaurant off the old
Route 66. Then Reid went to the writer’s museum with me! It’s my favorite nerdy
thing and a cute boy checked our bags. OK, maybe <i>that</i> was a Tanner. Or
Cooper. Or Ryder? Oh, Chicago. I am going back.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Later
that night it was Britney night at Roscoe’s, and they played ALL BRITNEY. When
I walked in, they were playing “Autumn Goodbye”, which was on the B-side of
“...Baby One More Time”! IT IS MY FAVORITE BRITNEY SONG EVER. I AM ANCIENT.
Because of the horrible weather, Derrick Barry was stranded so did another
night of shows for free, and I felt less butt-hurt about missing her, Willam,
Akeria and Plastique on the Thursday before (Plastique was in Minneapolis that
night).</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">My flight
the next day back was at 10 PM (she’s on a budget!), so I went with Reid to the
airport and then took the train back to Chinatown to meet with my high school
friend Julie, who went to college in North Park to study ministry and never looked
back. She is working as a pastor and we had a wonderful time over Connie’s
Pizza. She graciously drove me back to the train after our meal.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">“I really
think you’re quite brilliant”, she said, and she didn’t even take it back when
I tried to exit the vehicle while still wearing my seatbelt.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<b><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">It’s Gonna Be May</span></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">We will
end May with the most fangirl weekend of my life!!</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Cher was
in town at The Xcel! And no, I did not go because I have been spending far too
much. But I <i>did </i>go to the after show starring Chad Michaels at the
Amsterdam! I first saw Chad live in Denver when we went to Pride, and then had
the flu last time she was here! (The first time, that Valentine’s Day, and
Steve was like “You’re ditching me?” I was sweating and shivering at the same time,
bro!)</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I was all
dressed up, as I wore the blazer that Darren left at my house two Christmases
ago and I never gave it back. Chad did “It’s a Woman’s World” and I died even
before the meet and greet. When I did, I was nervous because I was by myself and
the lady behind me was talking for a long time!</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">“IFIRSTSAWYOUINDENVERYOUWEREGREAT,”I
said.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">“I love
Denver,” Chad said.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">“THENIGOTTHEFLULASTTIMEYOUWEREHERE,”
I said.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">“I’m so
sorry to hear that,” Chad said.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">“IT’S
OK,” I said. “GETYOURFLUSHOT.,”</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAmXs57mq12IqWs6GW8o7xC2PgUxy_PYlTbsXTFkEXtKWk9c9ZOTofhgl4PIpwXhRjY_e2Prtved_ZI07GXWjDK3om8TOfQAK6fBAXMOS6CG5jXiMk_fj_x8EBEESLQaxNt7Pk6sslMjjJ/s1600/chadmichaels.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAmXs57mq12IqWs6GW8o7xC2PgUxy_PYlTbsXTFkEXtKWk9c9ZOTofhgl4PIpwXhRjY_e2Prtved_ZI07GXWjDK3om8TOfQAK6fBAXMOS6CG5jXiMk_fj_x8EBEESLQaxNt7Pk6sslMjjJ/s320/chadmichaels.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span style="margin: 0px;"></span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I guess
you could say I was a little excited.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">The next
day: Holy buckets!!</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSxqS3UspbGHcySag2jzc6oV_QFh4xKexBXPl5N0VYT73sZHKHQPKd3PeJsedJr1bx2P_vCFXnu0r2OZxc0hUNRHWoubPKMpX3i_vN7-8hhEESze9WD8Bybh753JLJdCA4MBBZ4rGFG-Uo/s1600/bestdayever.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSxqS3UspbGHcySag2jzc6oV_QFh4xKexBXPl5N0VYT73sZHKHQPKd3PeJsedJr1bx2P_vCFXnu0r2OZxc0hUNRHWoubPKMpX3i_vN7-8hhEESze9WD8Bybh753JLJdCA4MBBZ4rGFG-Uo/s320/bestdayever.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">First,
Steve and I went to the mall drag show at Rosedale. And I already screwed
things up because I realized the show I was going to after was an hour earlier
than I planned on! OH NO! I drove my car back to the house and took an Uber
back to the mall. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">So, this
mall show! Flip Phone booked a great cast of local and nationally renowned
queens for a family-friendly show in the mall, and local evangelicals went
crazy. Steve and I were sitting right by the runway and he was worried that the
keyboard warriors would actually show up (spoiler alert: they didn't).</span></div>
<div align="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 0px;"><tbody>
<tr style="mso-yfti-firstrow: yes; mso-yfti-irow: 0;"><td style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 0px; padding: 4.5pt;"><div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</td></tr>
<tr style="mso-yfti-irow: 1; mso-yfti-lastrow: yes;"><td style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 0px; padding: 3pt 4.5pt 4.5pt;"><div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">“If there
is an active shooter, we should hide under there,” he said without a trace of
irony, and began looking for the exits. Thankfully, the only dangerous thing
about the show was how FIERCE the queens were! Okay, I could have done way
better with that analogy. Carson Kressley was a hilarious host, always telling
the audience that they could go get something at Zumies, and the queens were
all fabulous. The best part was seeing their look of surprise when they first
came out and saw the audience, in broad daylight, consisting of young and old
(and mostly sober), excited to see them perform. It was very touching to see
little kids tip the drag queens, but I really felt something seeing the tweens
with their supportive parents there. It's a way of the world saying, "I
see you and I got you", y'know?</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I
terrified all of them at the meet and greet with my energy, but I was worried
about taking too much of their time! And they're all so damn tiny! I almost
clotheslined Trinity Taylor and Peppermint graciously helped me up. Carson was
probably wondering where I got the coke from.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Later
that day, I was off to the U of M to see the last show of the "My Favorite
Murder" tour with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark!</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/u/1/blogger.g?blogID=7757619093854217193" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/u/1/blogger.g?blogID=7757619093854217193" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/u/1/blogger.g?blogID=7757619093854217193" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/u/1/blogger.g?blogID=7757619093854217193" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/u/1/blogger.g?blogID=7757619093854217193" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/u/1/blogger.g?blogID=7757619093854217193" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/u/1/blogger.g?blogID=7757619093854217193" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/u/1/blogger.g?blogID=7757619093854217193" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/u/1/blogger.g?blogID=7757619093854217193" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/u/1/blogger.g?blogID=7757619093854217193" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/u/1/blogger.g?blogID=7757619093854217193" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="about:invalid#zClosurez" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Unlike
most times, at this show I was not nervous at all about being alone, or being
the only boy (although I did see two nice gays from work and was excited about
them being Murderinos). I was strangely relaxed as I listened to a live podcast
about murder. I was only nervous during the meet and greet, because I was one
of the last people, and we were also the very last show of the tour, and I
couldn't imagine how exhausted they were. However, they were so nice. They
HUGGED. They were genuine. Georgia's husband Vince took a bunch of pictures. I
didn't even care about how horrible my hair looked. Okay, maybe a little bit.
I'm on Propecia, y'all. God.</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Of course, I am leaving out so much. Lots of unrequited crushes, drama that kept on repeating itself, the same show every weekend.</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">I am moving to Whittier in two weeks.</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;"><i>Next time, whenever that is: The Pride episode! My birthday episode!</i></span></div>
<i></i><br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 8px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div align="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 0px;">
<tbody>
<tr style="mso-yfti-firstrow: yes; mso-yfti-irow: 0;">
<td style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 0px; padding: 4.5pt;"><div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgnULqwNVSmXGtdkR53KNFZU5mFEb7GTl3LBd7wcEdIL1a1jzjyVKfaAWFIymK1MR2oui0xJPOpPq5vRN3hMnqvvWd088CG5N-X4TQodoedPP_5E-AuYtNkkapeAoZp-GHH4YrtRa-smC1/s1600/karenandgeorgia.jpg"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px; text-decoration: none;"><span style="margin: 0px;"></span></span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr style="mso-yfti-irow: 1; mso-yfti-lastrow: yes;">
<td style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 0px; padding: 3pt 4.5pt 4.5pt;"><div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"></span><br /></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div align="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 0px;"><tbody>
<tr style="mso-yfti-firstrow: yes; mso-yfti-irow: 0;"><td style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 0px; padding: 4.5pt;"></td></tr>
<tr style="mso-yfti-irow: 1; mso-yfti-lastrow: yes;"><td style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px rgb(0, 0, 0); margin: 0px; padding: 3pt 4.5pt 4.5pt;"><div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
</div>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 16px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<br /></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>jakeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05687321925107280139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757619093854217193.post-61688589248182125782019-02-12T11:53:00.002-08:002020-07-30T12:13:20.726-07:00Loring Park Season 1 is now on Kindle!!!<h2>
The annotated version of Loring Park Season 1 is <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07N7W3DYW/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1548871125&sr=8-1&keywords=loring+park" target="_blank">now available on Kindle!</a> $3.99 or free for kindleunlimited! Paperback version and Season 2 coming soon!</h2>
<br /><br />
<br />jakeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05687321925107280139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757619093854217193.post-16869964879999965282019-01-23T16:32:00.000-08:002020-07-30T12:13:23.726-07:00THE 2018 MEGA RECAP EPISODE!!!!<b id="docs-internal-guid-f69dd841-7fff-028f-b47c-b1e6b8eb971c" style="font-weight: normal;"></b><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<b id="docs-internal-guid-f69dd841-7fff-028f-b47c-b1e6b8eb971c" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 18pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">2018 Recap Episode</span></span></b></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-f69dd841-7fff-028f-b47c-b1e6b8eb971c">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEgjoxxIL1yf8gRgD7fAfJRPscRgg-bRgNyXyxffI_0PF45tIdor1KWfH2OOjM5nvVU5Tb0FeNs0ohhXvs3zXj-qazeqLdqJMw0hvuBVoDow54rRbsH_uuJvjHuQbHXxuzK8KoBLn0ULRp/s1600/gaysofourlives.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEgjoxxIL1yf8gRgD7fAfJRPscRgg-bRgNyXyxffI_0PF45tIdor1KWfH2OOjM5nvVU5Tb0FeNs0ohhXvs3zXj-qazeqLdqJMw0hvuBVoDow54rRbsH_uuJvjHuQbHXxuzK8KoBLn0ULRp/s1600/gaysofourlives.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span id="docs-internal-guid-f69dd841-7fff-028f-b47c-b1e6b8eb971c"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hello, dear readers! It’s certainly been a while, hasn’t it? I imagined I would just start a brand new blog. Would I call it </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Loring Park 2.0? Elliott Park? Warehouse District?</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I write this in my new ninth floor apartment overlooking the North Loop of Minneapolis, where traffic zips by and I feel more Mary Richards-like than ever. There is a “J” above the fridge. Jared stops over every weekend. “Mary!” he cries. “Rhoda!” I cry back and we embrace, discuss the men in our lives, and have nights out on the town.</span></span></span><br />
<span id="docs-internal-guid-f69dd841-7fff-028f-b47c-b1e6b8eb971c"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span id="docs-internal-guid-f69dd841-7fff-028f-b47c-b1e6b8eb971c"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/ZNKOt2k7Pm4/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ZNKOt2k7Pm4?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-f69dd841-7fff-028f-b47c-b1e6b8eb971c"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-f69dd841-7fff-028f-b47c-b1e6b8eb971c">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><br />
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span id="docs-internal-guid-f69dd841-7fff-028f-b47c-b1e6b8eb971c"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">...Oh, just kidding. Y’know how I moved in with my parents until my tax refund came back? That’s gone. I took out a loan. That’s gone. I can’t have nice things. I’m still with the parents, at 32. Sometimes in order to feel like an adult, I get hotel rooms for the weekend. It doesn’t take a math genius to figure out this is not the way to financial freedom. If only I weren’t such a whore for room service and being called “Mr. Emmert”. I think it’s because I’m always called “ma’am” on the phone, and therefore such a salutation is surprisingly empowering and masculating. The AC Marriott has been my favorite because on the screen it says “Welcome, EMMERT JAKEY” and I can put on YouTube on the big TV and I actually have more fun watching WWE divas and Mariah Carey videos than going out. For a while I forget it’s a hotel and pretend it’s my own apartment, and I am a successful adult with a laptop that works and I didn’t screw everything up and I haven’t been a lovelorn unaccomplished alkie for 10 years.</span></span></span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-f69dd841-7fff-028f-b47c-b1e6b8eb971c">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><br />
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span id="docs-internal-guid-f69dd841-7fff-028f-b47c-b1e6b8eb971c"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sigh.</span></span></span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-f69dd841-7fff-028f-b47c-b1e6b8eb971c">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Anyway, let’s recap my summer not-in-the-city but often-visiting-the-city, shall we?</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times";"></span></span></div>
<a name='more'></a><div style="font-weight: bold;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">****</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixy285LZR_vsxd-0oDi8ExYBZX7jttwyHConUI0Ae9E4N-0cXpnbLFGo3nrLWb0aC7zpdw39teOCt9iZtH9elSMIYqU6i09QCoJevfyrl6e46Z7cr4QjfCrmYCR7-wtUKYMu6KUmk4eoJm/s1600/prideweekend.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixy285LZR_vsxd-0oDi8ExYBZX7jttwyHConUI0Ae9E4N-0cXpnbLFGo3nrLWb0aC7zpdw39teOCt9iZtH9elSMIYqU6i09QCoJevfyrl6e46Z7cr4QjfCrmYCR7-wtUKYMu6KUmk4eoJm/s320/prideweekend.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was very hard to get out of self-loathing mode when every event reminded me of my self-inflicted fall from grace. For example, I held Pride parties three years in a row at the little green house and they were always a source of joy. I didn’t have the house anymore, so instead I took advantage of Flip Phone offering their corporate discount for a rate at the AC Hotel Marriott, sharing a room with Steve and Jared. It would be a hoot, I convinced myself, and somewhat financially feasible as I wouldn’t be Uber-ing everywhere and I was lucky enough to have two shows Friday night at Sisyphus Brewing.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDrd8cywfhRz0sSZWK4UFv0-3MN7RN89PZlCz3uuH2q8cynm3BgNy1qLQn4AZOyAn5t6VDy_1k25sS_LgDPDI8I1QpblRcLKkOEoIU48vDcLKUv_zvMTEQAuIO5j_6AMIlMa8SWqlp8IDn/s1600/pridecomedy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDrd8cywfhRz0sSZWK4UFv0-3MN7RN89PZlCz3uuH2q8cynm3BgNy1qLQn4AZOyAn5t6VDy_1k25sS_LgDPDI8I1QpblRcLKkOEoIU48vDcLKUv_zvMTEQAuIO5j_6AMIlMa8SWqlp8IDn/s320/pridecomedy.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Jared had just suffered a major setback personally and professionally, so he wasn’t in very social spirits. I tried to focus on my shows, and we were sold out for our first show and almost for our second one. I felt very moved that Steve, Joey, Chandler, and my parents showed up for the first show (and then relieved because this meant I told jokes about them in the second show). <a href="http://extrememaggie.com/" target="_blank">Maggie Faris </a>was the amazing headliner and was generous with the show pay. During the second show, I realized I had barely eaten anything all day, and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jCljPKp8XgI" target="_blank">Madi Tentinger</a> graciously let me have her delicious Jersey Mike’s sandwich. It may be Pride weekend, but I also realized that we as a society just don’t deserve women.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On Saturday, Jared and I hung out with our friend Str8 Patrick. I feel bad to just call names like that, but it’s true. He’s like my one heterosexual male close friend. And in bittersweet irony, his birthday occasionally falls during Pride weekend -- we probably get along so well because that Cancer energy is </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">real. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We went to those douchey uptown pool apartments like Flux and Lime and were surrounded by straight men with six-packs. I normally would have enjoyed myself, but I didn’t know anyone other than Patrick because Jared got too nervous and bailed right away. Also, I was wearing brand new swim trunks that I hadn’t tried on first and I struggled with tying them and they were </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">super</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> short. Were I amongst my gays, we would have all gone to the corner and three of them would have argued over who had the best fine motor skills, but this would not be the case. I sat in the pool with the water up to my neck and left shortly after.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir10W9_cY3fqEW3Yw0yv1QNKgNy7rGelUhhj2KYH7uur3aYh5mlAyR_WpSDdEJ_MiKXaqhfdHX8fHgBVgkQ5iBH9k7-mgMQQLwfLbMOq4Z16dosPTvLgptVmVKl0yo91Mod-LrXX-O8Nsr/s1600/realman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir10W9_cY3fqEW3Yw0yv1QNKgNy7rGelUhhj2KYH7uur3aYh5mlAyR_WpSDdEJ_MiKXaqhfdHX8fHgBVgkQ5iBH9k7-mgMQQLwfLbMOq4Z16dosPTvLgptVmVKl0yo91Mod-LrXX-O8Nsr/s320/realman.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What a real man looks like.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">After a quick jaunt to the hotel, I had to get back to the park! You can never do everything you want over Pride weekend, and I decided to buy tickets to see Brandy in the park by my damn self instead of waiting for my friends to decide what they wanted to (and none of them were major Brandy fans, another reminder that I’m so much damn older than everyone). </span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I got there earlier than usual (who? me?), so I sat under a tree and listened to the </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Something to Wrestle With</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> podcast about Sable. Then I took selfies of myself and felt ugly and old. Did the Sable podcast not inform me that age was nothing but a number? I thought she was way hotter during her second run. Discuss.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/MZ2DbqFIPtk/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/MZ2DbqFIPtk?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Brandy soon took the stage and did all her hits! “Full Moon!” (It wasn’t a full moon, but do we really want a full moon during Pride weekend? Come on now) “What About Us?” “Sittin’ Up In My Room!” She did an acoustic version of “Almost Doesn’t Count” and I was sad for a nostalgia that did not exist. I mean, I sang it in seventh grade art class with Danny McNamer and Sarah Shepperd, but I’m not exactly sad about it.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I blasphemously left during the final number <a href="https://people.com/music/brandy-monica-the-boy-is-mine-essence-fest/" target="_blank">(“The Boy is Mine”, which she is </a></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://people.com/music/brandy-monica-the-boy-is-mine-essence-fest/" target="_blank">still </a></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://people.com/music/brandy-monica-the-boy-is-mine-essence-fest/" target="_blank">deliciously beefing with Monica about</a>), feeling cinematic as I walked with</span></span><span id="docs-internal-guid-f69dd841-7fff-028f-b47c-b1e6b8eb971c" style="font-weight: normal;"></span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="display: inline !important;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">with the fireworks behind me, because then I was going to the Rihanna-themed Flip Phone party at First Avenue! I love a crowded queer-friendly First Avenue dance party. I feel it is my happy place. For the occasion, I took advantage of Rihanna’s Fenty x Puma line available in the juniors department at Nordstrom and wore a cobalt PUMA crop top with matching sweatpants that had laced-up holes on the side, like something <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Trading-Fleer-WWE-Divine-Divas/dp/B01M2DB99E" target="_blank">Ivory</a> wore during the latter half of her wrestling career. It was completely inappropriate for a 31-year-old white dude to be wearing, but then I thought to myself, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What would Rihanna say?</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Her Barbados accent sat on my shoulder. “Jakey,” she would sigh, “It is Pride. Suckitup.” </span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="display: inline !important;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdVWrX4Ax5Zd7dVd9BPO05s2iOTwD3x6d7mxwypLv3S9PsfE_m0sb5m926S9RWFmCGNNcfwozxmsXLrbMCQdPVGig4W3P3qq8bdKevOyMVIZxz_geNieukbm75R4lSHmzv8t_QIpDYrpoM/s1600/happypride.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdVWrX4Ax5Zd7dVd9BPO05s2iOTwD3x6d7mxwypLv3S9PsfE_m0sb5m926S9RWFmCGNNcfwozxmsXLrbMCQdPVGig4W3P3qq8bdKevOyMVIZxz_geNieukbm75R4lSHmzv8t_QIpDYrpoM/s320/happypride.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="display: inline !important; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="display: inline !important;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sunday morning, I was marching in the parade with my employer! I was an hour late but nothing had started yet. My friend Diva freelances with my employer but ultimately proved to be a traitor by marching with her friend Stephanie with the Delta float, and I was never speaking to her again. The parade was delayed due to protests, and my Facebook feed was nothing but white people complaining. I tried getting updates from Steve, Joey, and my mom, who were scattered during various places during Hennepin Avenue. I felt bad because last year I was so full of energy, and this year I had to fake any enthusiasm I could muster. One saintly young woman let me use her deodorant. I kept getting sunscreen in my eye. I tried to find friends that I could hug, and I recall that I found a few, but toward the end I legitimately couldn’t see anything. This was not last year when I hugged my aunt and uncle, or when I jumped on Steve for a photo-op (a picture I am sure I deleted in a drunken sadness -- we’ll get to that later). When it was over, I collapsed in a heap, full of sweat, tears, and sunscreen. Someone got me a bottle of water. I called Steve and my mother, neither of whom were nearby. I finally was able to walk to Brit’s Pub to find my newly forgiven Diva, where we walked up Hennepin </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">again</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to the AC Marriott. It was a miracle I had any feeling in my legs the next day.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">We chilled in the room for a little bit, and Jared’s friends even brought their baby! Then it was time to enjoy all the festivities in the park, like the fair. Diva’s family owns the Que Viet truck so I had a delicious egg roll on a stick and splurged on strawberry lemonade. It’s always fun to see all the kids!</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The night ended with me inexplicably dancing with the muscle gays, including Instagay, who is 6’3” and built of granite and was wearing a crop top. That’s always when I know it is time to go. The older I get, the more ridiculous I feel.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">***</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Speaking of older, the halfway point of summer is always my birthday. I still lived at home. I miraculously got a great deal at the Westin for that weekend. I had originally planned to go to San Diego for my birthday, but a) I couldn’t get the time off and b) I realistically couldn’t have afforded it. I was still bummed, though. TLC was the headliner! My boss said I could have the weekend before off, but out of the four friends I have who live in San Diego, that is one of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">their</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> birthday weekends, and to visit someone else on their birthday weekend would have seemed like a Stage Five Clinger move.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Charlie’s birthday is the day after mine but this year we celebrated his birthday on Saturday and mine on Sunday! It was Mary Tyler Moore-themed, complete with extravagant invitations and ‘70s apparel. I scrambled and found a Sex Pistols tee at the last minute. It was red (my favorite color) and I could wear it again! Also, it was the middle of July and I wasn’t about to spring for a polyester suit and be a sweat bubble all night. My loyalty can run so deep, which is proof I would not be a very good bridesmaid.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The day after was MY birthday! I keep forgetting I am 32. It’s not like I think I’m 22 or some shit, I just keep saying “31”. Anyway, someday I will be gone, and people will ask what I was like as a friend and relative. “He was the kind of person who invited 20 people to his birthday and was half an hour late,” they will say with an eye roll.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKXc710lF2AXBdKrCjZNnpexQ34O9eTvNNbP0DIMQqdJfF4FzwhJSyuIbJm6xUdqeKUuvimlY_nBEioV8Gux4s6u_zw67Pqya17n0uQGW4QR4-ECv496NDTwwAnMzRzk9I_13qg_CbErUp/s1600/birthday1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKXc710lF2AXBdKrCjZNnpexQ34O9eTvNNbP0DIMQqdJfF4FzwhJSyuIbJm6xUdqeKUuvimlY_nBEioV8Gux4s6u_zw67Pqya17n0uQGW4QR4-ECv496NDTwwAnMzRzk9I_13qg_CbErUp/s320/birthday1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Anygay, the best thing about my life is my enriched friendships and bond with my family, and I say -- in a good way -- that I didn’t even need to show up for anyone to have a good time! It was a joy to be around good friends, my parents, and my grandparents! Erin was in town from London for just three weeks and brought a gentleman caller. I have known Diva since third grade and she showed up! Actors from my play were there (we’ll get to that later, too). My brother brought his best friend and personal trainer Art, who briefly went to the same college with me. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Do you know Dane from basketball?” Grandma Shirley asked.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Why, because he’s black, Grandma?” my brother snapped. I was kind of annoyed at his umbrage because Art had no problem with it and our 80-year-old grandmother has given money to the DFL her entire adult life and she’s at a freaking gay bar. Back off the woman a little.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Charlie gave me an early career Mariah Carey VHS (that I still have yet to watch! We must do it during our next girls’ night). While no birthday will probably be as good as my surprise party last year, it was a day to feel happy and blessed. And the Westin had a pool.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVjw86H0XP3EWmUEB5NlyYwdn5Mq6AVQ2yFMSOPmuqxnk2BvpUbh-s-3BTorO9YdqMB0kk0kyWKHJlTp7qUSXmGBvEFALCp0U0vnmzGdDudueWqgWviI-SflsttENYBSJsqTC8PBxIwXmt/s1600/divamariah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVjw86H0XP3EWmUEB5NlyYwdn5Mq6AVQ2yFMSOPmuqxnk2BvpUbh-s-3BTorO9YdqMB0kk0kyWKHJlTp7qUSXmGBvEFALCp0U0vnmzGdDudueWqgWviI-SflsttENYBSJsqTC8PBxIwXmt/s320/divamariah.jpg" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Diva + Mariah = my two favorite divas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi9iGXvNQOri4_ZxoTSPzhfKh2S45r7ycHDSEcAC9owQ-Ywr7wKFMZhygaja6cdaiwkw0XKrrLP0k1svWv0k6sPQwMNeLrS8zme2OBt-7UTrB_kA_L8X_GQexHrru-ntpNhw6bNxwEVOkS/s1600/christmascard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="656" data-original-width="656" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi9iGXvNQOri4_ZxoTSPzhfKh2S45r7ycHDSEcAC9owQ-Ywr7wKFMZhygaja6cdaiwkw0XKrrLP0k1svWv0k6sPQwMNeLrS8zme2OBt-7UTrB_kA_L8X_GQexHrru-ntpNhw6bNxwEVOkS/s320/christmascard.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If I would have done a Christmas card this year</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">***</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Steve and I saw Beyonce and Jay-Z at U.S. Bank Stadium and it was a religious experience. We fought during dinner and we fought after. I was already in a mood because I didn’t charge my phone during election judge training that afternoon so it was dead and I had left my debit card at Bar Zia. We were mad at each other for silly things that happened months ago because I had just found about them, and I was probably still mad about THE THING that happened years ago. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/Or7bjMOMrSM/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Or7bjMOMrSM?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 18.6653px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/cnCCtPsTLkY" width="560"></iframe></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 18.6653px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 18.6653px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Infidelity” isn’t the word. “Deceit”, maybe. There’s an extra layer of humiliation when someone lies to you and you know they’re lying but you’re too insecure and defeated to say anything back. When Beyonce sang “Resentment”, I got it.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/UAYOfcuL4Ao/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/UAYOfcuL4Ao?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
</div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">As for THE THING, I got over it because I wrote a play about it. Nbd.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">No, it </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">is</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> a big deal! I did another show in the Fringe Festival!</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqD1nk4Qk3N0vPLId_QERc-XgHiQ89GmdLcM_UWYVNNsw2lsMuBY1jgiyYR16IWdowAIbPl8ysKAJiZL1ZLTjP7WRx-C7Dkj1-FqYhmmQsde07mxNpVqlKVCAU7DSW4iLtwp0OHtvGV6AF/s1600/theregoesthegayborhood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqD1nk4Qk3N0vPLId_QERc-XgHiQ89GmdLcM_UWYVNNsw2lsMuBY1jgiyYR16IWdowAIbPl8ysKAJiZL1ZLTjP7WRx-C7Dkj1-FqYhmmQsde07mxNpVqlKVCAU7DSW4iLtwp0OHtvGV6AF/s320/theregoesthegayborhood.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was a labor of love and I wasn’t as prepared as I was in 2013, but I had a great cast and lots of help. Two parts I held auditioned for and the rest I called in favors. I learned to never direct myself if I am going to write and act, but I’m still proud of it. We told a story about friendship, about outgrowing your friends, lies, sex, greed, fame, the social stratosphere of a gay city scene, alcoholism, mental illness, astrology, about the unglamorous part of going from your twenties into your thirties. Not all of us will grow up a the same time. I learned to embrace that in others instead of resenting them for doing so. Reid played a sleazy Andy Cohen character, my friend Zidane reprised his role as Jared from <em>They Shoot 25-Year-Old Gay Men, Don't They?,</em> we had a hybrid Celebrity/Joey character, and a boy from North Dakota was a hybrid Steve/Instagay character. The female character was 10% my friend Katelyn, 10% my love of new age, and 80% made up, and therefore she was my favorite. I named her Molly Jo, which would have been my name as a girl.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The first show was at 10 PM on a Friday night. We almost sold out and it was a torrential downpour. The theater was </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">hot as hell.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> On the way back, about eight of us, including Joey, Dane, and Erin, all ran in the downpour to a distillery attached to the theater, and then found out we could have got there through the building anyway. I can pretend that life is a dramatic Oscar-winning film, but even in its darkest moments, it will be a screwball comedy.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">We received reviews. I have a video of it but it’s of our second performance but I don’t think we really hit it until the third, and I’m still too much of a chicken shit to watch it, despite the three figures I paid. Le sigh.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">***</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">A month after the show, we celebrated my achievement and Steve’s birthday by a trip to Vegas to go see Mariah!!! </span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWhFcErtAYtYKRaZZoOjWpu8vAnlgdTBBB-d6gT_Un3uX9IGv8cOY6xqSOq9zhYGKMqvl_MRVyd0_Q0GtS1Y51vnjK_E6Z3df9pOawOTbALjTHueLFxq-oq0q2OYOSCiNnJO_QTNKrdh1G/s1600/mariah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWhFcErtAYtYKRaZZoOjWpu8vAnlgdTBBB-d6gT_Un3uX9IGv8cOY6xqSOq9zhYGKMqvl_MRVyd0_Q0GtS1Y51vnjK_E6Z3df9pOawOTbALjTHueLFxq-oq0q2OYOSCiNnJO_QTNKrdh1G/s320/mariah.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I haven’t seen her since a fateful trip to Chicago, and I ended a friendship because I felt so bad about not being in Vegas last time. Steve got us a room at The Cosmopolitan and we took great advantage of the slot machines and the two pools. And yes, honey, I did find a Mariah slot machine!!!</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I hadn’t been to Vegas since my days of wrestling forums and podcasting. Dave Meltzer called me chief! I spent the whole day with Bryan Alvarez’s lovely wife Whitney! I was surprised by how nostalgic I had felt for those days. I still had the best kiss of my life at the now-defunct Krave nightclub, under a foam machine with a tall and strapping British boy. When the foam cleared he had disappeared, and I still wonder if he was a ghost. “‘Til the World Ends” by Britney Spears still takes me there.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Getting to Vegas was the hardest part. As luck would have it, I had to close the night before, and knew that going out would have been disastrous even though Steve wanted us all to meet at his house. Again, if we still lived at the green house, it would have been fine. I’m the one who decided we couldn’t live there anymore. He’s the one who never wanted to talk about it. On we go.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">My mom dropped me off at Steve’s, and he was already in a panic because I was ten minutes late (Virgos gonna Virgo). I got there and our friends Josh and Max were there sleeping on couches. Josh is in the Marines and smiles a lot and doesn’t talk a whole lot, and Max will read you to filth without breaking a sweat. Steve’s roommate Walker was there, too. They were all very hung over.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Good news,” Steve said with a nervous smile.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“What?” I asked.</span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Jared isn’t here,” Steve explained.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Um, okay…”</span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“He stayed at a friend’s last night,” Steve said. “And he texted me that he lost his debit card.”</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“We can spot him until Vegas,” I said. “He banks with Wells Fargo and they will have ATM’s there. Where’s my phone?” I immediately had to charge it when I got there, because I spent the latter half of 2018 with a phone that barely functioned.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I looked at my phone to see if Jared had called, and then remembered it was Labor Day.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Wait, have you called him yet?” I asked Steve.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“No,” Steve said. “Why?”</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Oh my god,” I said with exasperation. “Give me your phone.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I called Jared, who was somewhere in downtown Minneapolis.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Hiiiiii,” he said. “I’m just waiting for the bank to open and then my friend is going to give me a ride to Steve’s. Don’t worry about it.”</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Jared,” I said sternly. “The bank isn’t going to open. It’s Labor Day.”</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What?!!!!” Jared cried. “Oh, no </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">wonder</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> no one isn’t outside.”</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“We can spot you until Vegas,” I said. “They have Wells Fargo there. Just hurry.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jared and his friend arrived later than we would have preferred, and then she had to get gas. I have CLEAR because I paid for it when we were flying back from Denver and almost missed the flight, so I selfishly took comfort in knowing that </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> would have made it to Vegas okay, but what would happen if Steve and Jared were stuck at the airport? How long could I just hang out in the lobby of the Cosmo?</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I said “Girl, byeeee” and whisked through the CLEAR line, then helped myself at the airport bar with a mimosa that cost as much as one night in Vegas. Jared, Steve and I reunited, and all was well.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We upgraded to a fancy room because I won $5.99 on Trivia HQ while in line for the room and felt like </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">celebrating! </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(with Steve’s money) We rode the roller coaster at New York New York, drank and ate delicious delicacies, went to that 1 Oak place where no one was there, and didn’t realize we had a fridge until checking out.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> As for Mariah, SHE WAS EVERYTHING. Free of the constriction that the “#1 to Infinity” concept was (all her #1’s in consecutive order), you could tell it was a playlist that </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">she</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> wanted to do. Of course, she did several of them (opening with “Honey” and closing with “We Belong Together” and “Hero”), but you could tell she relished doing other songs. “This was my first single that didn’t make it to #1, only #2,” she said before singing “Can’t Let Go”, and you could tell that almost 30 years later this still bothered her. I tried not to be spoiled about the playlist, but I saw rumors on Twitter that she was changing up her choices of deep cuts every week. So when she sang a snippet of “Crybaby” and I think I was the only person in all of the Colosseum who knew it, it was a </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">moment</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/jdHbwA1zFtI/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/jdHbwA1zFtI?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I DON’T GET NO SLEEP</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I’M UP ALL WEEK</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">WITH THOUGHTS AGAIN OF YOU AND ME</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">AND EVERYTHING WE USED TO BE</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">SEE, I CRY</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I CRY </span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I CRYYYYYYYY</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">OHHH</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I’VE GOTTA GET ME SOME SLEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPP</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Before she planned her </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Caution </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">World Tour, we were planning a February return trip. As for the trip announcement, my phone blew up so much that morning I thought someone had died. When I found out she would be at the State Theater (her first concert ever in Minnesota), I wet the bed.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I spent far too much money in Vegas, shopping sales at Ted Baker, Nordstrom, Saks, and 7 for All Mankind. My only regret is buying Zedd headphones that I didn’t want or need because this man at the mall barked at me and I did not know how to say no. I can’t be left alone.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On the flight back, we were the only ones on the plane. Jared and I cried at </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Won’t You Be My Neighbor?</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> even though I had already seen it in the theater with Chuck. I watched</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Life of the Party</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> on Steve’s screen over his shoulder and wanted it to be about Maya Rudolph’s character instead. If you stream it, just watch the part where she goes to support Melissa McCarthy in arbitration.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">***</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">How would I have gone to Vegas in February? I was still getting hotel rooms. Joey, Jared and I went to Treasure Island and terrified the poor teenage girl working the water slide, and then Jared almost got kicked out for doing a cannonball in the swim bar. I went to lots of parties at Lee’s, who lives in a high rise on Marquette and always graciously invites me. It’s a life that won’t ever be mine, and not just because I lack the emotional stability to live in a room with a balcony.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">We were at a party one night and there were too many people for us to share an Uber to Saloon. One girl told the Uber to wait and we were on the 30th floor. I felt for whoever was going to lose a star on their passenger rating, and I walked with Sven to The Saloon. It was raining but it was unusually brisk for November. I am sure I verbally vomited all over the poor lad. I was also nervous because Ron was in town and whenever he is in Minnesota I think all of the molecules shift. Then, right when I got there, BROSKI! was there with his boyfriend and his ex-boyfriend was right next to them. I’ve been seeing Broski more often lately and I am like 98.7% over it, so it’s good to know for my future self that it only takes five and a half years for me to emotionally recover from heartbreak. Nevertheless, it was a scene I just didn’t want to witness. Also his ex-boyfriend Todd has been flirting with me lately and I know it’s just to be funny but it is sexually confusing and I don’t think I like that I like it.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Get to the 90s!” Ron texted me, and I was so desperate to see him and flee the scene that I left a full drink at The Saloon. I waited in line for 15 minutes and did karaoke first and then got a drink just to prolong the agony, and then I gleefully told his uncomfortable friends that he met me while I was narrating gay porn in a bar attached to the men’s bathroom. He chastely kissed me on the cheek when he left and I fainted. My feelings about him are very third grade. For ten minutes I erroneously thought he got married and I was only sad about not being invited to the wedding. I reunited with Tan Man the following week, and I am lucky to know so many beautiful people (inside and outside) who live in the West Coast. Here’s to winning more scratch-off tickets so I can finally visit them.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">***</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A highlight of the fall was a gay wedding reception! James and Marco got married! I planned ahead by asking to be off work the next day. I felt tacky because this means I was skipping inventory, but I also felt wise! I got a room at the AC Marriott </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">again,</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and missed the first dance (and had to pay cover) because I was too busy watching Mariah Carey videos. There’s one where she sings at the iHeartRadio music festival and they cut to a young woman crying and she is me. On the back of this album is a personal treasure.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I wore a new burgundy suit and felt like a goddamn star, which only exacerbated when Clive picked me up like I weighed two pounds. Clive lives an hour away and is cute if you’re into that whole broski-from-a-small-town vibe (but who </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">is?)</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. One time we went swimming in Reid’s pool and he borrowed a swimsuit from me. He has abs and I wasn’t sure if I was flattered or offended that now I could never wear that suit ever again. (It was a very broski-type swimsuit anyway and short shorts were on trend last summer, anyway. I don’t know why the hell I had them to begin with. Maybe they weren’t even mine from the start.)</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The night truly became magical when we realized we could use TouchTunes. It was like having a secret super power. With great power comes great responsibility, and I knew if I just started playing Mariah Carey I would have ruined the reception. I did lots of Britney and “Let’s Get Married (remix)” by Jagged Edge, because that is what I would have wanted played at my wedding, and not just because at the beginning they say “J.E. y’all” and those are my initials. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/Mo1HaVN1Pt0/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Mo1HaVN1Pt0?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I clued Joey into my super power and rolled his eyes when he said I should play “Bring Me to Life” by Evanescence, but everyone sang it at the top of their lungs and proved me totally wrong. I kept flirting with Clive and I am sure I looked ridiculous. At one point “Sometimes” by Britney Spears played and we slow danced like we were in middle school. At the time I thought it was a cute and sexy moment, and the next day I saw it on Lee’s snapchat and I looked like his dad. Then we stayed in middle school because “My Heart Will Go On” played, and I bitched about Joey’s imminent trip to see Celine Dion in Vegas, because this year we learned that no one is allowed to have nice things except me.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Because I was having such middle school flashbacks, and not just because I kept shamelessly flirting with Clive, I thought of my favorite thing to do at middle school dances. “We should play the train!” I cried, thinking of the Quad City DJ’s song. “Then everyone makes a train! We did all the time! It was so fun!</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“No one is going to want to do that,” said Joey. </span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“People love the train!” I yelled. It played and at first nothing happened, and I made everyone that I knew in the nearby vicinity join in. By the first chorus, the whole entire room was on a train, some trains veering off into their own, and eventually a dance circle was created. I tried to do some back bridge thing and one of the go-go boys tried to dance with me and I was really awkward, but still! It was my </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">13 Going on 30 </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">moment when she saves the magazine party by playing “Thriller”.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I think I can</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I think I can</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I think I can</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/B-DpRcxK_N8/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/B-DpRcxK_N8?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">More drinks poured as the night went on. James had to kick out one of Marco’s friends, and I told myself to never be so awful that I got kicked out of my friend’s wedding reception. “She was terrible,” James said. “She was hitting on my 80-year-old father all night.”</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I didn’t realize your dad was rich,” I said.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“What?” James asked.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Nothing,” I said. This must have been post-tequila.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was wired as hell when I got back to the room. Joey stayed for a while and we watched music videos on the TV and he walked home at about 2:30, and of course my Cancer ass made him text me later because 4th & Hennepin late on a Sunday night is not an ideal place for a young boy to be by himself. Then I felt anxious and lonely. The wedding party was staying at a different hotel. Why did I keep booking hotels? Was Uber-ing home at 2:30 </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">that</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> bad? Sometimes it felt like highway robbery. Sometimes my phone would die and I’d pay $40 cash to a pissy cab driver. One time I got a room at 1:58 A.M. because my phone was dead and Proud Drunk Me felt I was loving myself more if I paid $200 to be alone in a hotel room instead.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Clive frantically called at 3 in the morning because he was locked out of the apartment where he was staying.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You can just stay here,” I said, and I didn’t even mean it in a romantic way. Like not at </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">all.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Jakey, this is BAD,” he groaned. “I have to get up super early tomorrow! I’m supposed to pick up Mike from the airport.”</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Who’s Mike?” I asked.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Awkward pause. “My … boyfriend,” he said.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0o3FbqXGIzymV_HvjoSzV7UTlglpXJ1M8n9rv5MolsYHpEl4EGl87RZyT_77XmGfmaWbSFf0uB3QklS7JDyWwtg7lJEIeABXtZAUDFP7gUQ3_6_rgBM9R795UYqYnZf1pTlwm4fU-QIuW/s1600/disappointed.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0o3FbqXGIzymV_HvjoSzV7UTlglpXJ1M8n9rv5MolsYHpEl4EGl87RZyT_77XmGfmaWbSFf0uB3QklS7JDyWwtg7lJEIeABXtZAUDFP7gUQ3_6_rgBM9R795UYqYnZf1pTlwm4fU-QIuW/s320/disappointed.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Oh,” I said as I sat back down on the bed. “Well, you can try an Uber but that’s gonna cost you a lot …”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I helped him come up with a Plan B but we ended up blowing up the phone of someone else staying at the apartment who worked the graveyard shift. I felt victorious in that I was able to make the assist and only a little bummed that the </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sometimes</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> thing was nothing more than a music video moment. And it was better to be let down gently than to see him sucking face in the corner of a bar, y’know? It’s a weird thing about gay friendships. Sometimes one party has a crush for a while but it goes away and evolves into something more meaningful. I don’t need to be a masculine jock daddy to have a good friendship.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6653px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Most of the wedding party was staying at the Hyatt. I played video games at Steve's house the next afternoon. The comedown felt harsh.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6653px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6653px; white-space: pre-wrap;">"I'm bipolar," I said, and my tears hit the pillow.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6653px; white-space: pre-wrap;">"It's okay," he said.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6653px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6653px; white-space: pre-wrap;">It somehow felt final.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">***</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">ANOTHER hotel story!</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_DDHcSnPMVDXgbsE3Y0pcmHXoSuAPgAKOBilIIY7YrwNoifXyJO9Ud0kbYe86YmKifhvKoX2292Swzn9sM2sNqH1DNVdbRRb-rwPjGwTz6-FRfB-loHknvCsIFG85I0TdERz5qSWzuNzQ/s1600/halloween.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_DDHcSnPMVDXgbsE3Y0pcmHXoSuAPgAKOBilIIY7YrwNoifXyJO9Ud0kbYe86YmKifhvKoX2292Swzn9sM2sNqH1DNVdbRRb-rwPjGwTz6-FRfB-loHknvCsIFG85I0TdERz5qSWzuNzQ/s320/halloween.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">For Halloween, I got a room at the Hotel Minneapolis. Did you know it used to be a bank and was built in the 1920’s? Did you know that the desk agent knew all this and told this all to Charlie while he waited for me to get there?</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We were splitting the room because we got VIP tickets to meet Tiffany “New York” Pollard. I made sure to pack my portable DVD player because Charlie has </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Flavor of Love</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I Love New York</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> on DVD. I wore a red suit and devil horns and just went as a cheesy devil. Charlie went all out and went as New York’s “inner cry”. One of my favorite things about Charlie is that when he nerds out about something (a phrase I use with endearment), he goes </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">all-in </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">with it. We’re gonna see New York? Then we’re gonna pregame while watching her reality shows, and our costume is gonna be so esoteric that only she’s gonna understand it.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/Z2epCUWP2Ao/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Z2epCUWP2Ao?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The meet and greet was on the first floor of UNION, and you will be shocked to learn that people were cranky about waiting. The line moved rather briskly, although I was nervous because this man kept talking to us and Charlie and insisted on taking his own pics (unbeknownst to me, this was a no-no). There was no way for me to tell Charlie that this was the same dude who called me a snob and shoved me during the last night of Jetset! We got close to the line and I made a beeline to <a href="https://twitter.com/_omgigi_?lang=en" target="_blank">Gigi Berry </a>who was assisting with the photos, a) to get away from the guy but b) because Gigi Berry is a goddamn delight.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was nervous for the pic and I wanted Charlie to have his moment because he worked so hard on his costume, and of course New York </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">loved</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> it. In the pic, I’m just awkwardly standing in the background like Mrs. George at the end of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mean Girls.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> As I walked away, Ms. Pollard hollered.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I’ve always wanted to say this!” she cried. “Excuse me! THE DEVIL IS BUSY!”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">There’s a reason she’s a star, folks. I also loved, per Chad of Flip Phone and her own Instagram, that she had a reverence for Minneapolis as a first-time visitor. She was especially inspired by having her picture taken by the Prince star at First Avenue. I got my picture taken with sexy Instagays, including one I work with who said “Please don’t share this on social media”. Um, okay. One I used to work with hugged me and didn’t have a shirt on and I almost fell off the roof.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The next night I planned on just Slutooning! Chuck and his boyfriend Jeff were gonna come over but then bailed, because they’re an old married couple now. Ok, they aren’t married and Jeff is 27 but looks 16, but you kn0w what I mean. Also, I worked that morning! I got Halloween off even though I didn’t ask for it, and my 21-year-old co-worker that </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">did</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> ask for it off was scheduled, so I bit the bullet and worked at 9 AM that Saturday morning. I woke up late so took a Lyft to MoA. I was shockingly on time, so I learned the secret to punctuality is to take a Lyft that will cost as much as one hour’s pay. I am </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">not</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> 21 and felt miserable as the day went on. I took the train to the hotel and this loud drunk man was terrifying everyone. It was uncomfortable! I made my way back to the hotel by navigating the empty skyway successfully, and I fantasized of a different life in which I made good choices and lived in a high rise.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I tried and failed to take a nap. Reid came over and was Jonathan van Ness from </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> He looked amazing. Do you believe???</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">As for my costume, Diva and I had gone to the Halloween store (Diva is a special-effects makeup artist and lives for Halloween), and I thought I had bought a two-piece camo army-type outfit to wear with my MAN HUNTER hat. Turns out I bought a Halo-themed onesie with no pockets and it was tight as hell!</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Look at my ass,” I told Reid.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I think it’s on backwards,” Reid said.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Oh, no wonder,” I said. “I was wondering why the velcro was in the front. That seemed awfully stripper-ish for something from the kids’ department.”</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We got there and it was </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">raining!</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Thankfully, The Saloon had a roof over the patio. Reid placed in the top ten of the costume contest! Diva might have won but she didn’t get there until 12:30. In her defense, she did this Venom look and it was sooo gory! She also couldn’t see because the entire left side of her face was obscured with SFX make-up and and I had to be her seeing-eye gay. My favorite costume was Taylor, who was Jim Carrey Riddler in the third act of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Batman Forever</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and was everything. I wish I knew HALO because hot guys kept trying to talk to me about it and then walked away when they realized I didn’t know anything.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Here We Go</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Dr. Bobby and I have discussed bipolar disorder and borderline personality disorder. I have not been officially diagnosed with either. Even if I was, it would not be an excuse to continue acting a fool. Whatever it was -- and maybe it was nothing more than being an overdramatic asshole who drank too much and should have stopped mixing Adderall with alcohol a year and a half ago -- it seemed to get substantially worse when I moved back home.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOtmAKaPt2ijCVAoDQ8ONuZa_qv3CCFq2moZp0Rtw-gbAsbBI9CnOUMJI7RrconoPQfHTvPqhMGPd5nvw5pgsQ2uD1lwKpjh9ct_q5LNxWOsMtKM6DBBaYA7cRB1lJ6uZ_VBzjOQgPoPq5/s1600/youseemangry.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOtmAKaPt2ijCVAoDQ8ONuZa_qv3CCFq2moZp0Rtw-gbAsbBI9CnOUMJI7RrconoPQfHTvPqhMGPd5nvw5pgsQ2uD1lwKpjh9ct_q5LNxWOsMtKM6DBBaYA7cRB1lJ6uZ_VBzjOQgPoPq5/s320/youseemangry.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">From November to April, too many nights ended with me yelling at Steve. I would cool down and then I would crawl into bed and all was seemingly forgiven.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I didn’t live with him anymore. Now if I yelled it was to him at home, or in angry text message mode. I still had all that anger but now it had nowhere to go.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">One morning I arrived home in an Uber, set to be on time to work, even with enough time to shower. I had stayed at Joey’s and he had the day off. My mother saw me get dropped off just as she was leaving. “Liar liar pants on fire,” she texted me as she drove off, convinced I had been at Steve’s. Considering that the root of all my anger at Steve was based on deception, I was especially upset at being called a liar. Then I couldn’t find my keys. Then I freaked the fuck out.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I can’t come into work!!” I screamed at a co-worker while sobbing. I just drove. I drove by my old house and took sad Snapchats. I debated driving to Duluth where my Aunt Jana lived. I texted Ron if it was a nice place to visit because he went to school there. He was responsive until he realized I was going nuts. I went to Chuck’s house and he made me a sandwich and trimmed my neck hair. Then I went to Sean’s house, where we had an adventurous day of the Eagle, The Saloon, Whole Foods and Mario. This is proof to always be friends with older and wiser water signs. I did not perform in a show I was booked at that night at House of Comedy and did not properly notify of them of my absence, and I believe I am appropriately blacklisted. I screamed at Steve that night anyway and I don’t remember why.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A week after I performed in my former college town of Menomonie for as much money as half my day job paycheck, as I was leaving for work, my mother said, “You have too much free time on your hands.” It was random and out of character for her. I knew after decades of experience that LorettaSpeak is all about what is </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">not</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> being said, but in the moment I felt angry and attacked. “Fuck off,” I said, loud enough so the neighbors could here.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Jacob,” she pleaded. “Don’t be rude.”</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Fine,” I yelled. “Fuck off, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">please.”</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> It was like my teenage years redux, only this time I could drive. I sped away in my Yaris and didn’t speak to her for two days.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I fell down on the way to Joey’s one night. I went to Chuck’s again and he clipped my nails and bandaged my hand.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">***</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/0w_I1mnlXBw/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/0w_I1mnlXBw?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Steve got a boyfriend.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Jared told him to tell me before he told the world, or else he would feel my wrath. Casey told him that I was going to try to sabotage it.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I found out from Facebook and Snapchat anyway. Steve, who had not posted on Facebook in a month, posted an adorable picture of them on a date, and their copulation quickly led to cohabitation. I never said I was good in bed. I handled it very well.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOg-R8HV_E11-dQCeECcPMTvElxaBOByPg2GN0rQCLZkZA3E3srFajnlzjEn73gZNjVZsmvEKEXkLK6EFIPQ44O7i6UJ4M3Ae2RmGuxYhJ7gKX_bH6EyXQhDw5wbGfqSynQfiroRedIkVT/s1600/americanpsycho.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="192" data-original-width="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOg-R8HV_E11-dQCeECcPMTvElxaBOByPg2GN0rQCLZkZA3E3srFajnlzjEn73gZNjVZsmvEKEXkLK6EFIPQ44O7i6UJ4M3Ae2RmGuxYhJ7gKX_bH6EyXQhDw5wbGfqSynQfiroRedIkVT/s1600/americanpsycho.gif" /></a></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPeso_n-YAYIpJfiKt9UhhtaHxxR8N5szEUCFZ8HeHC3jQzZ1MWsN9EII1YsqZqUaDfJQWkyNbduXuwqLq4Lc7w0D1ChqYqZkR0yUw7ZS1jLe43B0DlwgyeIzmc8kqJkkWf8m6ywLXfmJx/s1600/katyapsycho.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="480" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPeso_n-YAYIpJfiKt9UhhtaHxxR8N5szEUCFZ8HeHC3jQzZ1MWsN9EII1YsqZqUaDfJQWkyNbduXuwqLq4Lc7w0D1ChqYqZkR0yUw7ZS1jLe43B0DlwgyeIzmc8kqJkkWf8m6ywLXfmJx/s320/katyapsycho.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7dTvxh5WwRELV3FJ8m3W0V1_HhinQs2t946zL3otBkHZOG1GV9ETp2jV3-yivHb2e064W-pHdv47ru-4KncGOnyYGIuCtecl4LBTuDTA2BPOUkJsFWEAMOEJN54Qwj9fvYA4U503yk9Zu/s1600/crazywoman.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="245" data-original-width="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7dTvxh5WwRELV3FJ8m3W0V1_HhinQs2t946zL3otBkHZOG1GV9ETp2jV3-yivHb2e064W-pHdv47ru-4KncGOnyYGIuCtecl4LBTuDTA2BPOUkJsFWEAMOEJN54Qwj9fvYA4U503yk9Zu/s1600/crazywoman.gif" /></a></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Oh, I’m totally kidding. Jared and Casey may as well be oracles. I was an absolute terror for two months. I was the psycho ex in every rom-com or episode of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Criminal Minds</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> where you wonder what the hell the nice handsome man saw in the crazy average-looking woman in the first place. Move on, Sharon! The SWAT team is here! (Okay, I’ve only seen two episodes of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Criminal Minds</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and I really can’t stand that show, but this happened in one of them. And Shemar Moore kept his shirt on, which was just rude!) I was a banshee of a psycho ex who wasn’t even an ex. I made pre-homicidal Betty Broderick look like a pillar of positive coping skills, but she had money and her own house. Yet, by my own words:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.85px; white-space: normal;">I was so focused on emotionally preparing myself for the ending that I wasn't able to enjoy the beginning and the middle. I don't know how to be a boyfriend. I want him to be with someone who is nice to him and was born in the '90s and has a tight ass and doesn't drink very much and enjoys sex multiple times a day and doesn't yell at him about stuff that happened a long time ago. I can't have nice things.</span></span></span></blockquote>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I wrote that a <i>year</i> ago. So now this was the reality that I had long been anticipating. Why the hell was I so angry? It was similar to the thing that he had lied about for so long before. I knew it was going to happen before it actually happened, then it happened, and I was so obsessive about it that I couldn’t get free. The boy was everything I’m not and I took it all too personally. I am not 20. I don’t look good in my underwear and take pictures of it. I am not nice to Steve. I took a thirst trap picture as a joke and my stomach looked good but I still wore a hat and it only got, like, 18 likes. He'll post a picture wearing a staple and get 3,000 likes. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But it's not even about him, y'know?</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">If </span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 18.6653px; font-weight: 400; white-space: pre-wrap;">he would have chosen a </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.999pt; font-weight: 400; white-space: pre-wrap;">grad student, would I have hated myself for being a three-time college dropout? If he would have chosen an athlete, would I have hated myself for being lazy? If he would have chosen a woman, would I have hated myself for being a dude?</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I invited myself over 72 hours after the big reveal, if by “invited” you mean “shamelessly begged to come over”. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.999pt; font-weight: 400; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.999pt; font-weight: 400; white-space: pre-wrap;">“This would be so much fun with him here,” </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.999pt; font-weight: 400; white-space: pre-wrap;">Steve said as we played Monopoly on XBox. “I have to go pick him up soon.” I landed on Community Chest and left.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“Why don’t you come over anymore?” Walker asked as I was storming out, and I didn’t feel like answering.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">“This is too painful for me to handle right now,” I said in a text message, and then I got lost and ended up in Champlin.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">If it could have ended like that, and I would have taken a month to simmer and be in Do Not Contact mode, this would be fine.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.999pt; font-weight: 400; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.999pt; font-weight: 400; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Alas, that is what a mature person would have done. Instead, I drunk texted and shit posted constantly but avoided them in person at all costs. I almost clotheslined them running out of the bathroom at Flip Phone Mariah Christmas, because I was trying to get back downstairs and that’s where they just happened to be making out (despite this and Jared spilling me on twice, that was a fun night; they played both "Dancing On My Own" <em>and</em> "Call Your Girlfriend", so it's like me and the new boy each got a song, and they played "All I Want for Christmas is You" on the hour every hour). I </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: 400; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">really</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.999pt; font-weight: 400; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> hurt the boyfriend’s feelings in ShitPost #402, which was never what I wanted, and there’s not enough gifts in the world to make that okay. I have chosen to stay in my own lane, and this time mean it as opposed to the first 100 times I said that.</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the movie in my mind, we would have figured out how to date as adults in the city without all the awkwardness around us, maybe casually seeing others and encouraging each other on the way. Maybe I would forgive him for all the bullshit I was mad about. Maybe he would want to actually use the word </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">boyfriend</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and I would be open to it instead of pushing him away all the time because I was embarrassed about him being embarrassed about me. He was never responsible for my insecurity.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">You don’t know what you don’t know. I didn’t know my dad would be so sick for so long, and that when he finally came back home he was not going to be the same person. I didn’t know I was going to be so horrible with money and excessive spending. I didn’t know my mother and I would revert to how I was in my teenage years, with me extending any boundaries to the limit and her not even trying to mask her disappointment. I didn’t know I was going to spend thousands of dollars on adult chat websites, because I can’t ever be addicted to one thing at a time. I didn’t know that whatever mental illness I had was going to get so much worse when there was nobody there to rein me in. I didn’t know how much I would miss the comfort of a bed I had slept in every night for eight months until someone else was there. I didn’t know how a hyperactive tortoise shell cat and a weighted blanket would feel so shitty compared to a sexy upgrade. I didn’t know how absolutely dreadful and nasty I could be. "This is not who I am", I would say the next day, but after a while it apparently was.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">None of this would excuse anything.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">He’s not a saint. He might not be over his allergy to awkward conversations. But I’ll tell you this, gentle reader: he bore the brunt of emotional abuse and juvenile shenanigans of a broken man unwilling and unable to change for longer than any reasonable human being should. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">You can say it was me. He doesn't owe me anything and I got what I deserved. </span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.999pt; font-weight: 400; white-space: pre-wrap;">And what did I<i> think</i> would happen?</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times";">I can read a room. </span></span><span style="font-family: "times"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-weight: 400; white-space: pre-wrap;">I know the score.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/r8OipmKFDeM/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/r8OipmKFDeM?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.999pt; font-weight: 400; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
</div>
<em style="font-family: times; font-size: 13.999pt; font-weight: 400; white-space: pre-wrap;">Next week/month (no, really): Christmas and New Year's lead into an especially melancholy January. Erin and Jakey get a tarot reading and a supernatural experience! Jakey goes to Phoenix with his brother! What could go wrong?</em></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></div>
</div>
</span>jakeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05687321925107280139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757619093854217193.post-44969970097211998912018-05-31T22:38:00.001-07:002020-07-30T12:13:48.315-07:00LORING PARK SERIES FINALE: To My ReadersI moved out of Loring Park-adjacent (a.k.a. Stevens Square) this week. My grandpa and I spent 90 minutes at the dump and my grandma fell down at the thrift store. Word to the wise, people: Hire movers and don't call in favors from your 80-year-old grandparents like an asshole.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh-8Np26TrWriM2vcOsssJbXqfNKtwt6H_nZz62Eh8FZK4U58UWPX8V9xekisxQ_pOkdCwq0uB5jMpydycuTxUNurdLgOH6anE11OBp6-JSS9vBHieB7cCWoN7X9yuzpAOM7djO2y8UCfS/s1600/greenhouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh-8Np26TrWriM2vcOsssJbXqfNKtwt6H_nZz62Eh8FZK4U58UWPX8V9xekisxQ_pOkdCwq0uB5jMpydycuTxUNurdLgOH6anE11OBp6-JSS9vBHieB7cCWoN7X9yuzpAOM7djO2y8UCfS/s400/greenhouse.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJf-l8wo06NtTYT2qqWKhfRj1UzFakTg8HT4zRStpdAvDA-ojPNCfprUwm_T-9dp_t2AIM1NwFpy_Js3x5d4txrzKz0hQZsUaVuO1yp6MkFECsc0cA3KCKEO5a8D8kwu4jth3FMNyRmHN8/s1600/tony.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJf-l8wo06NtTYT2qqWKhfRj1UzFakTg8HT4zRStpdAvDA-ojPNCfprUwm_T-9dp_t2AIM1NwFpy_Js3x5d4txrzKz0hQZsUaVuO1yp6MkFECsc0cA3KCKEO5a8D8kwu4jth3FMNyRmHN8/s400/tony.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRPLG58G8RxKz-4jEWTJIIx3AzSdx-Ss1HGrUct6MhDKNbRMTxiP7T2xJd3bLVb7w1h5lsKW7aG2fgR2p0s4gvNRgWYpgR5JN3qCHSCqQ71mwKwBAcE5Gb_x2ppV4Uf7nLe6BN4bW2c3lD/s1600/trash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRPLG58G8RxKz-4jEWTJIIx3AzSdx-Ss1HGrUct6MhDKNbRMTxiP7T2xJd3bLVb7w1h5lsKW7aG2fgR2p0s4gvNRgWYpgR5JN3qCHSCqQ71mwKwBAcE5Gb_x2ppV4Uf7nLe6BN4bW2c3lD/s400/trash.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
I am temporarily living with my parents in St. Anthony. No, not <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Anthony_Falls" target="_blank">St. Anthony Falls</a>. No, not S<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Anthony_Park,_Saint_Paul" target="_blank">t. Anthony Park</a>. <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Anthony,_Minnesota" target="_blank">St. Anthony Village</a>, a teeny tiny suburb that borders Minneapolis on the northeast side. Anyone from there says they are from Northeast Minneapolis because the skyline is in our backyard. Nobody within a 5-mile radius knows where or what the fuck it is (for point of reference, it shares an independent school district with the southern half of New Brighton, and the other half goes to Irondale). For decades, our only claims to fame were <a href="http://www.startribune.com/o-j-s-ex-girlfriend-thinks-he-committed-double-murder/59387727/" target="_blank">Christie Prody</a>, who dated O.J. Simpson post-murder trial and when her cat died and the neighbors smelled something funny, they worried she had also been murdered; and my good friend and classmate since first grade, who despite being 5’8” and 160 (?), worked his ass off enough to make it to AAA baseball and had a year-long stint with the St. Paul Saints. St. Anthony, MN may have made local headlines <a href="https://www.mprnews.org/story/2014/12/16/settlement-st-anthony-islamic-center" target="_blank">when the city got sued</a> for not allowing a mosque to be in a building zoned for commercial use. It made national headlines when a St. Anthony police officer killed <a href="http://www.startribune.com/valerie-castile-awarded-entire-settlement-in-son-s-death/439716723/" target="_blank">Philando Castile </a>during a traffic stop. The officer was acquitted. The verdict was delivered a week before our Pride event last year and that is part of why there was this PR kerfuffle with the Minneapolis Police Department and the Pride parade and it was just awful! I was selfishly grateful to have been out of town when the verdict was delivered. I was also really surprised. After that, I don’t know what the hell we tell our black children to believe in anymore. As for my hometown, it became a very polarized community with “BLACK LIVES MATTER” signs in one yard and “WE SUPPORT OUR POLICE” in a neighboring one. City insurance paid for the settlement that went to Philando’s mother. Taxpayers footed the bill for the settlement that went to his girlfriend, whose young daughter was in the back seat.<br />
<br />
My mother wanted to move this year, I would later find out. She told Chuck during an impromptu game night -- we played Monopoly on XBOX One and she kicked all of our asses! My parents had flirted with the idea, but I never knew they had been that serious about it; at 61, I thought they would wait until official retirement.<br />
<br />
Easter fell on April 1st. I hobknobbed at Lush with the gays for a bit and then drove to my parents’ house. My brother had to work. My grandparents were there. My mother and the three cats (Junie Pie, Bobcat, and “my’ cat, PENNY ANN, a tortoiseshell who is soooo bad but soooo good and she is my baby! -- I love the other two as well, they are very kind and docile and originally Dane’s but he gave up custody to Loretta after a year) were there.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7S4ECHFEQWmS1kj0WwDmJ8WMV0pX30Ny6EmJiifHtpGOdzJEp6o58gnZ4NFxALyFWY7EAAhI-9ALOXAZR4gzjO_CWNB1W5P7BA-0Zfp4-qz39rJWfQXUZt2KA6GaE0pCOvjaTyjqKJebc/s1600/kittycats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="405" data-original-width="704" height="184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7S4ECHFEQWmS1kj0WwDmJ8WMV0pX30Ny6EmJiifHtpGOdzJEp6o58gnZ4NFxALyFWY7EAAhI-9ALOXAZR4gzjO_CWNB1W5P7BA-0Zfp4-qz39rJWfQXUZt2KA6GaE0pCOvjaTyjqKJebc/s320/kittycats.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BOB! (who is terrified of my loud noises and sudden movements), Penny
Ann (the best and worst cast you will ever meet), and Junie Pie (who is
as kindhearted as she is mentally challenged)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
My father was not.<br />
<br />
<br />
“Your father went to the hospital last night,” my mother explained. He had been complaining of the flu lately. A week before, he fell asleep on the couch and I giggled and Dane called me an asshole and we all assumed he was stressed from work. He’s an independent tax strategist! The tax code was dramatically overhauled this year! This was the part of the year in which he was bombarded with questions from clients! Every year since he opened his own office, we were always used to the fact that between March 1-April 15, we would see our father very few hours during the day, and when we did, he would complain about people who would call him on April 10th delivering very complicated returns and not understanding why he couldn’t file them properly before the deadline.<br />
<br />
<br />
My parents had been at Big Louie’s for Saturday night bingo the night before and my mom thought my father looked ill. She is also a nurse and a worrier, so she bit her tongue. He stumbled on his way to the bathroom. Justine, the gregarious bar manager, came up to my mother. “Jesus,” she said. “Mike looks like shit.” The third-party confirmation was enough for her. My father came back to the table and my mother put aside their bingo cards. “We’re going to the hospital now,” she said. He predictably protested but she drove him to the hospital and waited in the ER with him for hours.<br />
<br />
At some point that night, a doctor decided to run an EKG, which, along with my mother’s stubborn intuition, saved his life. He had an infection in his heart valve. Two days later, a bovine transplant was performed. His heart caught up but then his body reacted very poorly to the subsequent antibiotics. He was in the hospital and a rehabilitation facility for a month and a half. In lieu of Big Louie’s bingo, he had to settle for bingo at St. Therese in New Hope, where the prizes were not vast amounts of cash but throw pillows, stuffed animals, and coin purses. He never felt younger in his life.<br />
<br />
March 31st -- the day that my father, unbeknownst to me at the time -- had the health crisis of his life -- was the deadline in which I had to decide if I was staying in my apartment or not. I chose not to, for a variety of reasons. For one thing, Stevens Square has turned into a game of Mario Kart with all of the construction! Hand me my conspiracy theory tin foil hat, because here we go: I really do believe that, because demographically, Stevens Square has one of the lowest median incomes, neighborhood-wise, in the city, that the powers that be don’t really give a fuck about our way of life. Why would they? Stevens Square is a densely populated, tiny little grid on the map, between Loring Park and Whittier. It mainly consists of the people who were priced out of Loring Park (hi! It’s me!), immigrant families, and folks ahead of the curve who decided to invest in the neighborhood with their own condos instead of the much more expensive and gentrified Loring Park or the North Loop. Did I mention the construction??? You cannot go anywhere. The 35W-N/94-E ramp has been closed for months. The 35W-S ramp is now carpool/bus only. This week, our fucking alley had a CLOSED sign in front of it. The street behind us, which was closed to traffic but available for parking, is now closed with a gate in front of it so you can’t even park there. Our landlords have had oodles of showings and still can’t find potential renters. I think it’s because, despite the fact I will never find an apartment in this location with such an affordable price, people new to the neighborhood are understandably turned off by the fact that you need a micro machine for a vehicle and teleportation skills to successfully navigate this neighborhood right now.<br />
<br />
I planned on moving, and, like I had done twice in my twenties, using my tax rebate as a security deposit for my next apartment. My father does my taxes. He was out of commission. I tried TurboTax and found out how much I would get, but they needed my AGI (Adjusted Gross Income) as reported last year. My father had that info. He was rarely lucid and also didn’t have access to his files. “Just ask him,” my exasperated mother said one day (after my selfish ass called her frantic, because my father being hospitalized was one thing, but my not getting my tax rebate by May was A. VERY. SERIOUS. CRISIS.). As if my father, from his hospital bed, would remember the exact numeral he had reported for his adult son a year prior. I even tried the IRS website, but they couldn’t find any proof of my existence with the variable information I had. Again, my father = tax professional, me = immature ingrate who expects that magical jackpot every year with minimal effort.<br />
<br />
I am also tap-dancing around the fact that, while I kind of said this in our last entry (months ago!), I was in a relationship that wasn’t. I could write so many cryptic things, but that would not be fair to him -- or you, who have read of all my triumphs and tribulations from the beginning.<br />
<br />
<br />
So I can offer you this, only speaking of my own faults:<br />
<br />
<br />
-I never spoke up for myself. My <i>Sliding Doors</i> moments consist of him blatantly lying to my face -- with good intentions, sure -- and myself just nodding and looking out the car window, or retreating elsewhere. BUT THEN WHAT IF INSTEAD:<br />
<br />
<br />
“I appreciate you wanting to spare my feelings,” I say in the movie in my mind when he says his favorite lie as casually as one comments on the weather, as we are on our way to a party in the suburbs. “But I know that isn’t true. If you would like to have an honest conversation about this, we can have it.” And we have that conversation, as awkward as it is, and then everything is okay. And no one is hurt and everything is out in the open. There is no suspicion, there is no paranoia, there is no resentment, there is no lack of trust and miscommunication ever again.<br />
<br />
I don't say that in reality. We go to the party. We will go to many parties. And all of my anger and trust issues fester to the point that every single night we go out, I become a boiling pot of rage. All of that not speaking up for myself? Those feelings and the pain from them are there, only now everything is coming out at 100 words a minute at 3:30 A.M. in high decibels. Somehow everything is his fault. All of my pain, all of my insecurity, all of my self-loathing, is solely because of him. That is not true. That is not fair.<br />
<br />
And I become increasingly vituperative. He becomes increasingly assertive in deflecting my verbal abuse. I follow suit. All of this is exacerbated by Adderall and tequila, a combination that sounds as reasonable as "Roseanne and Twitter" and "16-year-olds and a road trip".<br />
<br />
-I was so in love with him. He loved me a lot. We did not feel this way at the same time. I was a wallflower when he was a player. He was a wallflower when I was a party animal trying to prove something. Maybe that is a guy thing or a gay thing. Maybe it is just the narrative of my life. I fall head over heels and tell myself I've moved on right before they realize it. (See also: Kevin. See also: Paul Ryan. Kinda sorta with Broski, but that whole thing was fucked up from the get-go.)<br />
<br />
And I stopped writing.<br />
<br />
I stopped caring.<br />
<br />
<br />
To let go of my anger was to let go of the power I had in being correct. I was not willing or maybe even able to do that.<br />
<br />
My new therapist is named Bobby.<br />
<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://jakeyon.blogspot.com/2012/05/loring-park-week-one.html" target="_blank">In so many ways, my life began in 2012</a>. Previously, I was a 3-time college dropout. A wannabe comedian. A wannabe actor. A wannabe writer.<br />
<br />
<br />
After three years (!) of living with my parents, then with a group of straight dudes, and then with my recently divorced and relocated uncle, I finally moved to “the big city” (read: 10 minutes from where my parents lived). I had previously done stand-up here and there. I failed to sell a memoir. I worked on a play for months before the whole thing got canceled - but that’s where i met Joey and that’s when I started writing again. I did it the same way I had done in high school and college with LiveJournal, using code names for my plethora of crushes and acquaintances.<br />
<br />
And people just found it. New to Twitter, I recognized blogger <a href="http://www.dennis-jansen.com/" target="_blank">Dennis Jansen</a> at LUSH and was brave enough to introduce myself; he became my staunchest supporter, mentioning me twice on his website and keeping in touch and encouraging my writing even after leaving Minneapolis for Dallas and Washington.<a href="https://twitter.com/IzakPratt?ref_src=twsrc%5Egoogle%7Ctwcamp%5Eserp%7Ctwgr%5Eauthor" target="_blank"> Izak Pratt,</a> whom I had a Twitter crush on <i>foreve</i>r, gave me words of encouragement after my first major blog. A striking woman named Dani approached me at the 19 one day. “You were my routine,” she said. “I would start my morning tea and while I drank it, I would see if you had a new post. I loved reading what you had to say”. <a href="https://twitter.com/rantsofadiva" target="_blank">James Henry</a> would give me advice about boys, especially in “Season One”. I was the outsider who found his way into the world of the Minneapolis nightclub scene, perhaps in its final, pre-Grindr dying breaths. People read of my friendships, my adventures in show business and stand-up, the disappointment in that industry, the disappointment with my real job, my new apartments, my flirting with crushes, my absolute heartbreaks, et cetera. The messier my adult life got, the more cryptic and infrequent my writing was, and for that I will always feel guilty and inadequate. I had let everyone in when life was great; why could I not do the same when life was not? I have only deleted one episode. I kiss a boy in it who is very gorgeous but I didn’t know he was closeted when I wrote it. Oh, and I ended up in the psych ward at the end AND THEN I PRETENDED THAT EVERYTHING IS NORMAL!!!!!!<br />
<br />
<a href="https://minnesotaplaylist.com/classified/auditions-for-fringe-festival-comedy" target="_blank">I wrote a play instead. It’s in the Fringe Festival.</a> Go see it.<br />
<br />
And thanks for reading.<br />
<br />
I found my Kelly Clarkson <i>Breakaway </i>CD yesterday. I was obsessed with it in high school. Even my yearbook says BREAKING AWAY. I thought I was gonna move to Florida and I ended up in Wisconsin for two years, lived the dream in New York but screwed that up, felt hopeless but then somehow became somebody ...<br />
<br />
...And now I'm back here again. Ten years later.<br />
<br />
As my hokey senior yearbook says, it's not good-bye, it's see you later.<br />
<br />
One kid wrote in every person's yearbook, "No one's a virgin, life screws us all". He became a widowed father by 28. Maybe he knew.<br />
<br />
So let me be a hokey yearbook and tell you to have a good summer.<br />
<br />
And let me also say thank you for following me during all of these years, especially to those of you who Tweeted me who came up to me at a bar, probably feeling so awkward and saying, "Hey, this is weird, but I read your blog?"<br />
<br />
It meant so much more to me than you'll ever know.<br />
<br />
xoxo<br />
Gossip Girl <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />jakeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05687321925107280139noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757619093854217193.post-33378242497542177822018-05-03T16:11:00.000-07:002020-07-30T12:13:50.879-07:00Loring Park Episode #72: The Long Farewell<div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-272bed8a-cce8-c4eb-8cc5-0b39a1019d35" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This episode begins on New Year’s Eve, because I am a garbage person and now apparently take four months to write. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Defensive teenage girl voice:</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> But a lot has been going on, you guys! Stuff that’s harrrdddddd.</span></b></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-8cde7414-dba8-c0fa-9b96-3fafd2ad8c09" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2EXUh_IY8f7WXk-rxhnuU4sbFxyXy7NliN357BDFmWN-NRWNN3U3KJ1ULLY60mbGD1_FHT_7tF8mLFFe9zStFrwn3rUmhCrAJlsO1c3J-rfaFzLAhdjgBAyBQHZhKQjGiAHbwt-3lpapu/s1600/writingishard.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="281" data-original-width="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2EXUh_IY8f7WXk-rxhnuU4sbFxyXy7NliN357BDFmWN-NRWNN3U3KJ1ULLY60mbGD1_FHT_7tF8mLFFe9zStFrwn3rUmhCrAJlsO1c3J-rfaFzLAhdjgBAyBQHZhKQjGiAHbwt-3lpapu/s1600/writingishard.gif" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;">
</b></span>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Taylor Swift is embarking on a stadium tour this year and tickets to see her are roughly half my rent. For a low price of $10 plus tipping money, I went to a drag brunch at Union in which drag queens performed the “Reputation” album straight through. I think I got the better deal. Also, I love that album. Do not at me. </span></b></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3T2gTJn2g8v9slCwHpT2jEKA5wRgPu0lhKCmmaaBEYQAEOJNaIAHY_9FoPpaJxVJtj0KywMRhNXEu4WA5NleNzDvsFKpclD7w9WWiyBbCInbMPJXRvNibqQjE7EXw7E96Yuw2GcftvaFC/s1600/reputation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3T2gTJn2g8v9slCwHpT2jEKA5wRgPu0lhKCmmaaBEYQAEOJNaIAHY_9FoPpaJxVJtj0KywMRhNXEu4WA5NleNzDvsFKpclD7w9WWiyBbCInbMPJXRvNibqQjE7EXw7E96Yuw2GcftvaFC/s1600/reputation.jpg" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;">
</b></span>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sasha Cassadine was the emcee and went right up to our table and asked if I was feeling sexy! What? I told her I would have to drink first. “Wait, you need to drink before you feel sexy?” she asked me in front of the entire sold-out room, including an Instagay that I was engaged to at the time (buff and brunette) but I have since replaced him with another Instagay that is my future ex-husband (tall and blonde). “You don’t love yourself.” She then turned her attention to the companion next to me at a table of four. “Is this your man? Is he not making you feel sexy?”<b> </b></span></b><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I</span></span><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> declined to answer. This was UNCOMFORTABLE.</span></b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b></span></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;">
</b></span>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was very nervous about the evening. I had asked for New Year’s Day off months in advance and was still scheduled to work! I asked a co-worker to switch shifts with me so I could come in later, but she declined. This is the same co-worker who I have switched with maybe eight times on her behalf, so no good deed goes unpunished. I wanted to go out and do </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">something</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> that wasn’t just The Saloon. Also, New Year’s Eve last year was when it all fell apart, and January 2nd was the day I was supposed to fix everything, and that didn’t really happen. (The opposite, really). I am being cryptic and annoying again, so my feelings can best be expressed by Taylor Swift lyrics.</span></b></span></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;">
</b></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/gUuWjpFx0cw/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/gUuWjpFx0cw?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But you weren't thinking</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And I was just drinking</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Well he was running after us, I was screaming 'Go go go!'</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But with three of us, honey, it's a side show</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And a circus ain't a love story</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And now we're both sorry (we're both sorry)</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I need to stop before I do the entire freaking album. DON’T THINK I CAN’T DO IT.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">***</span><br />
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Eq_aoOEyOLzNpb7_Jkbbk5mmvwDAYFcc9ayrHT6MAnzn-oe1BvPX5auNHqbZ16x__QUQvC9ssAj9NtLrg9vpOtewOzHMZgqS3zewuR1O6LimcCf_ktnncih1eGF5bhqn_Jw01gWRA6ki/s1600/FLIP_PHONE_2018-388x600-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="388" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Eq_aoOEyOLzNpb7_Jkbbk5mmvwDAYFcc9ayrHT6MAnzn-oe1BvPX5auNHqbZ16x__QUQvC9ssAj9NtLrg9vpOtewOzHMZgqS3zewuR1O6LimcCf_ktnncih1eGF5bhqn_Jw01gWRA6ki/s320/FLIP_PHONE_2018-388x600-web.jpg" width="206" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I decided to go to First Avenue by myself for a Flip Phone event with Raja and Raven of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">RuPaul’s Drag Race </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">fame. I checked my coat and then realized my phone was in one of the pockets, and I had paid $10 for express coat check and was worried I would have to pay again to get my phone! I walked in circles having a silent nervous breakdown for a good half hour. I didn’t know anybody. Why was I so insistent on going by myself? I should have just got a hotel room and stayed by myself like I originally planned. </span><br />
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The guy at the coat check stand ended up being very nice about the whole thing, and I left shortly after 11. I saw Raja from the first floor, and regretted being too anxious to enjoy the moment. Everyone at The Saloon was blowing up my phone, including my roommate and The Broski(™), and I didn’t want to wait outdoors in line in the bitter cold. One year, Erin and I went to a James Bond theme event at Solera (R.I.P.), and we had to wait outside forever, and then another forever to check our coats, and finally a European man mesmerized by Erin’s cleavage let us put our coats in the utility closet.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Broski walked in just as I did, having attended dinner across the street, and he wasn’t wearing a jacket despite the subzero weather. “What is wrong with you?” I chastised, both giddy and nervous that it was now going to feel like we were attending together (we weren’t). Then he broke out in his Donald Trump impression, and I was disgusted enough to stop compulsively rubbing his hands in failed attempts to warm him up. The night wasn’t about him, anyway. He was there to be with other people and so was I. Joey was there with his boyfriend, David; Steve and I were to be there with our posse. When I briefly kissed someone at midnight, I was grateful for the recognition that 2017, my thirty-first year, my most painful as an adult, had finally ended, and I vainly hoped that my self-destruction would be over.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It wasn’t.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/ynMk2EwRi4Q/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ynMk2EwRi4Q?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<br />
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the immortal words of Akon, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ll be the reason for your pain, and you can put that blame on me.</span><br />
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I got in a stupid drunk fight with Steve about oxygen and then I missed the New Year’s Day Comedian brunch for the second year in a row. At least this time I was missing it because of work.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "merriweather"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">***</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIz3e9WEsnRyLU8nAi5YiLPVyAnfHK-6WIaHI0-x-4h-fF-vmDsoanqMQ_SBFqns4wU8atCnLL0RQzMcvoYonLxsRi6sbPIzaMW3PYnxS1Or1BEKR6foKQX9cbqMSGCVF9u5963x-x5CxH/s1600/bigangsad.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="281" data-original-width="500" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIz3e9WEsnRyLU8nAi5YiLPVyAnfHK-6WIaHI0-x-4h-fF-vmDsoanqMQ_SBFqns4wU8atCnLL0RQzMcvoYonLxsRi6sbPIzaMW3PYnxS1Or1BEKR6foKQX9cbqMSGCVF9u5963x-x5CxH/s320/bigangsad.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Here were all my bullshit experiences as to why I quit attempting life:</span><br />
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-My therapist moved to Green Bay and I resisted the idea of giving her the information of Joey’s relatives and my college bestie Stephanie. I never went to my follow-up appointment because my father was in the shower (I was staying at his house because it's closer to the clinic) and I looked like crap and didn’t want to show up disheveled and that was my excuse. I have yet to find a replacement. I told myself I was fine, even though my mother and Steve both told me I should reconsider.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-I had a half-birthday which was another reminder that I am closer to death.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/CziCidR4KcY/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/CziCidR4KcY?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-Erin moved to Europe in January, but we were able to celebrate the Golden Globes together, where we also mourned </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Star</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> from “The Star”, written by Mariah Carey and Marc Shaiman, losing Best Original Song. Sooooo goooood!!!</span><br />
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-I kept making plans with Jared and they kept getting delayed, in part due to our endless winter. Steve had to push my car at least seven times this year.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-I missed Ron.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
</b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I love Ron</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, I would tell myself when pouting. He was the perfect person to drunk text because he was not emotionally invested in me and lived two hours behind.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-<i>No, I do </i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>not</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i> love Ron, </i>at least not that way. You can’t just love someone because they’re beautiful and full of life and think you’re funny and write “Hahaha” instead of “lol”. If he lived here, I would go insane. Even more so</span><br />
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I graduated from my debt consolidation program but then did not alter my spending habits and felt like I was right back where I started!</span></div>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">-I became the kind of drunk I never thought I would be. I was never a mean drunk. A drunk, sure, but I was always </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">fun</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and could talk to anybody. I became the drunk who screamed and yelled on a nightly basis, to myself or to others. One night I fell down in the bathroom and cut my head on the toilet and because I saw blood, I was convinced I was dying. The neighbor came downstairs and I didn’t even need stitches. The scar is still there and it is lightning-bolt shaped. It’s like if Harry Potter grew up to be a bitter alcoholic and also accidentally drank a potion to make him resemble Ron Weasley. </span></div>
</b></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://twitter.com/starsmoonandsun" target="_blank">Danielle,</a> my favorite astrologer on Twitter, once wrote that “the things that trigger us are the parts that have not healed yet”. The excellent astrologer <a href="http://www.chaninicholas.com/" target="_blank">Chani</a> Nicholas wrote in my horoscope that I had to decide if being happy was more important than being right. The latter was my downfall. I had spent far too much time and energy convinced that my feelings were not warranted or valid. I sat down and shut up and got kicked when I was down. The situation quelled and the bridges were mended, but the feelings of resentment, embarrassment, and ANGER were still penetrating the surface.</span></div>
</b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;">
</b></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"></b></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj8ggG2rdDtXBGmtfPmbFFE8_mDMLEPDtytuOseoFvcGvCZ9mc0t2tFVpXwuT0aZeILjn71jRAAZaIn1RdTWGsq9vmN4w-0eJSKD39j9exiNT7oDsLdlXlCCChFINYet59fTrgnh3VZoW8/s1600/happenedayearago.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="281" data-original-width="500" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj8ggG2rdDtXBGmtfPmbFFE8_mDMLEPDtytuOseoFvcGvCZ9mc0t2tFVpXwuT0aZeILjn71jRAAZaIn1RdTWGsq9vmN4w-0eJSKD39j9exiNT7oDsLdlXlCCChFINYet59fTrgnh3VZoW8/s400/happenedayearago.gif" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The world is LuAnn.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I think we all just want to be heard. A raving lunatic screaming his head off at two in the morning is the same person who just needed to be told during the day, stone cold sober in the springtime and crying in his car, that not everything was in his head after all. </span></div>
</b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"></b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have been so cryptic since this all started (Sunday, July 31, 2016, at approximately 11:10 A.M. in the young men’s department at Nordstrom; if this was gay </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Clue</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> it would be The Broseph at the Mall with the Bombshell) and writing less and less, because it wasn’t just my story to tell. “It isn’t about you,” Reid would tell me, and maybe that was the problem.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSCXVKdme03yoKEg_8G3HaNJXnejxPg4jU4zb-gaPl3WzAoK3wSYbWQYim163q1_9JoeCE6bb7Y5KHX9aR9WURJyNa4IlaaAdmyAMX7GC3arSiu5sSgDu5NX5-WsKaoLrOcWmmwTM1x7Kt/s1600/writer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="162" data-original-width="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSCXVKdme03yoKEg_8G3HaNJXnejxPg4jU4zb-gaPl3WzAoK3wSYbWQYim163q1_9JoeCE6bb7Y5KHX9aR9WURJyNa4IlaaAdmyAMX7GC3arSiu5sSgDu5NX5-WsKaoLrOcWmmwTM1x7Kt/s1600/writer.jpg" /></a></div>
</div>
</b></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"></b></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"></b></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But if you’re interested in a fictionalized and stylized account of dramatic shenanigans in a comedic play about growing older, evolving friendships, and gentrification, please come see </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Welcome to the Gayborhood</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> in the Minnesota Fringe Festival this August. I am hosting auditions on Sunday and I haven’t even started writing the script. /shamelessplug</span></div>
<br /><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">***</span></div>
</b></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"></b></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"></b></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfTY2rd62xBEHUrlMBfbF1jc89k25OpYDfNRvK77NXgyiSDmsm4C52MnOquTYxszsRyLplTgHUxYqqn2Uk1gafdfn5Gmgb67ayD0WfS9JbM15UlDEegFl4DFngBQ4ZVw-OBYPRgIJOvolV/s1600/merylstreepflu.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="150" data-original-width="245" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfTY2rd62xBEHUrlMBfbF1jc89k25OpYDfNRvK77NXgyiSDmsm4C52MnOquTYxszsRyLplTgHUxYqqn2Uk1gafdfn5Gmgb67ayD0WfS9JbM15UlDEegFl4DFngBQ4ZVw-OBYPRgIJOvolV/s400/merylstreepflu.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Oh, and guess what else happened? I GOT THE FLU!!!! Me, who has the immune system of a toddler! I first sensed it the day before Valentine’s Day, but I was booked to appear at a speed friending event hosted by Misha Estrin (later to be a </span><a href="http://www.citypages.com/arts/gateway-hugs-meet-the-ubiquitous-hugger-spreading-joy-friendship/476707703" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">City Pages</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="http://www.citypages.com/arts/gateway-hugs-meet-the-ubiquitous-hugger-spreading-joy-friendship/476707703" target="_blank"> cover story</a>!). I told him I wasn’t going and was gonna go to the Minute Clinic, but the show was at LUSH which I literally passed on the way to the Minute Clinic, so I bit the bullet and went! The event was fun and I got to listen to a speech from <a href="http://www.senate.mn/members/member_bio.php?leg_id=10142" target="_blank">Sen. Scott Dibble</a>, meet the talented photographer <a href="http://www.brentdundore.com/" target="_blank">Brent Dundore,</a> and even do some speed friending myself! I left early, though, because I wasn’t feeling very friendly, and also because I was pretty sure I was dying.</span></div>
</b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I woke up the next day, my body knew, and she was crying. I called out sick and went to the Minute Clinic, where the kind of cute doctor didn’t think I had the flu but if I really wanted, he could go ahead and test me. So they stuck the giant Q-tip up my nose (</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">not</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> a good time), and it turned out I had Infleunza B! Influenza B is a rarer strain and only affects human and seals, which explains why I am always reaching out my arms and clapping.</span></div>
</b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;">
</b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The pharmacy technician did not help matters as she rang up my Tamiflu. “You’re what, 32?” she asked loudly.</span></div>
</b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Thirty-</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">one,”</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I said with more salt than anticipated. My Instagay crush could have been nearby!</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh, you poor thing,” she said. “When I was thirty, I had the worst flu of my life. I thought I was gonna die!”</span></div>
</b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I sadly told Steve that I could not attend our Valentine’s Day show starring legendary female entertainers CeeCee Russell and Chad Michaels, who I had planned to reminisce with about Denver during our meet and greet session. “OMG,” Steve texted. “I can’t believe you’re ditching me.” I wasn’t ditching him because of a better offer, I was ditching him because I was sweating and shaking at the same time! Can you imagine if Chad Michaels became deathly ill because I gave her the flu? My reputation would never recover as fast as my organs hopefully would. She’s even tinier than I am! The timing was horrendous, and thankfully, Steve was able to go with Reid, instead -- sick as I was, I should have been thoughtful and given Steve a lot more notice than three hours. I would have got a flu shot earlier in the year, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">if I could turn back time.</span></div>
</b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;">
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I stayed in bed for three days straight. It was horrible! Poor Steve was assigned in the role of caretaker, which basically meant burying me in blankets all day and turning the heat up to 100 degrees. After the second day, I realized this was too much of a burden to place on one’s roommate and went to my mother’s house because she is a nurse.</span></div>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Enjoy your youth,” I would whisper to Steve as he left for work. “You’re too young to spend all your days taking care of me. I’ll be fine.” Then I would roll my head to the side and rehearse my imminent death.</span></div>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After three days of slumber, I felt recovered enough to go to bingo with Joey and his sister! And I did not win and I think I overdid it, because then I felt like crap for the next week but I gutted through it. I had already called in sick three days in a row! My voice got extra raspy and my stomach looked the flattest it had all year.</span></div>
<br /><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">***</span></div>
</b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was able to check off “stage mom” on my list of accomplishments when Reid made his stand-up comedy debut! Sarah McPeck has hosted The Big Fat Comedy Hour at LUSH for over a year now (a year is a huge milestone for any club show), and one of its features is “Virgin Sacrifice”, in which someone performs stand-up for the very first time. Previous sacrifices include improvisers, radio hosts, and drag queens. Reid had always expressed interest in the art form, and I thought this would be a perfect opportunity. We worked on his routine for a solid month. By “we”, I should stress that he wrote all of his own jokes. I was just there to help him bounce off ideas and decide the best order. He was doing a three-minute set and it reminded me of my ACME comedy contest days; three minutes doesn’t give you time to flirt with the audience and do the “Hi, how y’all doin?” routine. You have to be brisk and punchy with your material. Selfishly, it also helped me make sure our routines weren’t too similar! We both date younger men and had jokes about younger men not realizing we’re losers (but he is a daddy and that’s a whole different complex and another can of Flintstones vitamins). I paid someone twice my fee to record me for YouTube but I am too technically illiterate to upload it. Such is life. Reid did great, by the way! I sat behind my parents and even they were laughing! I thought he did a really good job of being self-deprecating, true to himself, and walking that fine line between racy and vulgar.</span></div>
</b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;">
<br /><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">***</span></div>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I had a tearful reunion with Jared on St. Patrick’s Day. I hadn’t seen him since November! He got off the train and yelled “RHODA” and I jumped in his arms and we walked to Sean’s apartment in the north loop. It was great to see Sean and Casey. I had attended their mutual birthday party with Steve and Charlie a few weeks prior, but I was too anxious to enjoy myself. It was a stupid anxiety about nothing. You should see my nails. But, wait, you </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">can’t</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> see my nails, because they’ve been tattered to the base. I bought Christian Dior nail treatment and still haven’t opened it. Will I use it before the coconut oil I bought for whitening my teeth two months ago? Tune in to find out!</span></div>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dane and I went to the casino with a bunch of people from high school! We are at the weird age where I’m not sure if people can still get it. Child, all of them could! The boys and the girls! But I’m also at that weird age where it’s not really as fun when the boys flirt with me. I brought my laptop to write my script but I got there late and spent way too much money and got sad about stupid stuff. (And I was late getting to the pool because I wanted to shave my chest for some reason) But the water slide was fun! I was in third out of fourth place in bowling but then Dane beat me in the very last frame because brothers will always be brothers.</span></div>
<br /><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">***</span></div>
<br /><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/CVSQ3jZKL0I/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/CVSQ3jZKL0I?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<br /></div>
<br /><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Were I still in my narcissistic mode of pretending life was a sudsy primetime soap opera, I would entertain previews in my head of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Loring Park: The Farewell Season. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Maybe I will move a block away to Jared’s old building. Maybe I will join Diva in the North Loop. Maybe I will even move back in with my parents! If I do that option, it won’t be like last time where I do it “just to land on my feet”, because when I did that, it took me four years. I was a different person then. Children, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Loring Park</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> itself didn’t start until I was 25! That is barely younger than Joey and Jared now, and a year older than Steve! For the longest time I excused my excessive bar-hopping as “making up for lost time”, but after six years, how much time did I really need? </span></div>
</b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I loved my little green house in the middle of the street. I will never forget my surprise party thrown by Steve, turning away from everyone so they wouldn’t see me cry. My get-togethers before Thanksgiving. My Pride parties, which weren’t luxurious at all -- a tiny backyard, one bathroom, it’s not like we had a pool or a huge deck or anything -- but in my heart they were because I cultivated a life for myself with such a variety of people that I loved very much. The random kikis at 2 in the morning. The mouse that I named Rascal! Okay, maybe I won’t miss Rascal. Or his less cute siblings.</span></div>
</b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;">
<br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Of course, it’s not like I’m dying, I’m just moving. Three years ago my grandparents helped me move in, which is just embarrassing. Jared and I still worked together. I had just had my heart broken, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">again,</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> by the same </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">dude,</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> but this time I had deserved it and was good with God, and the world was still full of possibility. And my age had a “2” in front of it.</span></b></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIHJyDOEQUwLMuyLZENrxARuxxakblIanY8_rSnbQ9kshxFIINpoZxmyy55JDS_vfZIHsOkY2FeT65Ju04g5hmLgyOcVm5kEWVOE1zSe-kaRJMwEef2VFytPGrl2bGfmEti4K3c4Cksgxh/s1600/daddy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIHJyDOEQUwLMuyLZENrxARuxxakblIanY8_rSnbQ9kshxFIINpoZxmyy55JDS_vfZIHsOkY2FeT65Ju04g5hmLgyOcVm5kEWVOE1zSe-kaRJMwEef2VFytPGrl2bGfmEti4K3c4Cksgxh/s400/daddy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></b></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My father fell ill the night before Easter.<b> </b></span></b><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">He looked so terrible that my mother drove him to the hospital and they left bingo </span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">early!</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><b> </b></span><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">It has been a month and he still hasn't come home yet. I stay over at the house</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">quite often and every time I hear a car drive by in the wee hours of the evening,</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I still think it is going to be him.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">It is one of those awful things that makes you put things into perspective. You</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">think your parents are ageless, and that, by extension, you are, too.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">We expect him home in a few weeks. He will always be more famous than I am.</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">He has received cards from everyone at Big Louie's and from relatives far away</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">because Grandma Shirley is the original Facebook. Things have not been</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">the same without him. </span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><b> </b></span><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><b> </b></span><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><b> </b></span><b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 13.999pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></b></span></div>
jakeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05687321925107280139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757619093854217193.post-87641825683052331102017-12-28T18:56:00.000-08:002020-07-30T12:13:53.449-07:00Loring Park Episode #71: A Christmas LetterSeason's Greetings, everyone! I hope you had a fulfilling holiday season.<br />
<br />
I
went to so many great shows! Dane and I went to the WWE Money in the
Bank pay-per-view at the newly renovated Target Center. They had to
re-book the entire show on the fly because of real life illnesses, so it
turned out be a really exciting show (Kurt Angle's first WWE match in
10 years!). I was really excited to see the WWE debut of Asuka, who was
the NXT Women's Champion for 534 days and vacated the championship after
injury. Unfortunately, my dumb ass was getting donuts at the time
because I didn't think her match would be the first one (or the
curtain-jerker, as they say in the business). Siggghhhh.<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/xV0KD-VKD7A?list=RDQMdNazM_bGzzU" width="480"></iframe><br />
<br />
I
had an existential crisis about which toy belt to buy and decided to
buy the WWE Women's Championship belt instead of the men's one because
it's what <i>I </i>wanted, damn it, and then I paraded it around The
Saloon to annoy everybody. Some men took pictures with it and I didn't
have the heart to tell them it was the women's belt. I mean, title.
Vince McMahon doesn't want it to ever be called "the belt" for some
reason.<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/2LeI-BP_Ajw" width="480"></iframe><br />
<br />
(YOU CAN SEE ME IN THE AUDIENCE SO MANY TIMES IN THIS VIDEO OH MY GOD)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgejwMIUs6uiKmcceGRg6HV0V6l8kKrTEwEtB0P1ccOQSawsWJwF3SxhMMbJQ2pv5DVeVlN7v8ICbg0o1EtijuwJMwOCTFGnVtxlQ5n-6aDKP1DBnBxR5f4lWuoeo7wiE8RAt9a8xWughGS/s1600/firstaveshow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="748" data-original-width="750" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgejwMIUs6uiKmcceGRg6HV0V6l8kKrTEwEtB0P1ccOQSawsWJwF3SxhMMbJQ2pv5DVeVlN7v8ICbg0o1EtijuwJMwOCTFGnVtxlQ5n-6aDKP1DBnBxR5f4lWuoeo7wiE8RAt9a8xWughGS/s320/firstaveshow.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Steve and I went to Queens United at First
Avenue, which was Phi Phi O'Hara's brainchild and raised over $80,000
for Puerto Rico relief! Like, forty queens from <i>RuPaul's Drag Race</i>
were there! I was going to take notes so I could write a big blog about
it. I got too drunk halfway through, so here is what I have:<br />
<br />
<b>Wendy Ho - Government makes a mess and we clean it up </b>(she was the show opener and I talked to her about luggage at The Saloon- very gracious)<br />
<b>Ginger - Continental plus/harvey fierstein </b>(Ginger Minj won Miss Continental in Minneapolis and it is dear to her heart)<br />
<b>Lady marmalade - Mariah, Pheonix, Jiggly, Phi Phi</b><br />
<b>Phi Phi Speech</b><br />
<b>Speaking of dicks and ass, BeBe </b> <br />
<br />
<b> </b>I quit taking notes because tequila, but I <i>did </i>somehow
end up way in the front row and got to hand dollars to some of my
favorite queens like Trinity K. Bonet, Katya, and Jade Jolie, who did an
<i>amazing</i> Taylor Swift.<b> </b> <br />
<br />
Then I don't
remember anything after The Saloon, when Madame LaQueer asked two of my
companions if they were having sex and I had officially felt
THIRD-WHEELED. Then I had a meltdown at home that was so bad, Alaska
Thunderfuck herself would have told me that I needed to chill out. I had
even gone to therapy that afternoon, and then the bank to get fifty
ones, and we stopped at Ria and Micah's Christmas party. The night
didn't need to end like that.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivZJ_t1amFzpSO2WPTTApha5IiC2gRr0kh10SRX8EfVqoDh8Wkgf1gPmPOb0o5yZ651SfloPOVxIP-eeGQOdzp1kRIYMpK3OD0udoasy4g6LwgQdDh9WWE4Fdu6NPOsdZW57tYN-Qaol_M/s1600/alaska.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="180" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivZJ_t1amFzpSO2WPTTApha5IiC2gRr0kh10SRX8EfVqoDh8Wkgf1gPmPOb0o5yZ651SfloPOVxIP-eeGQOdzp1kRIYMpK3OD0udoasy4g6LwgQdDh9WWE4Fdu6NPOsdZW57tYN-Qaol_M/s400/alaska.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Really, it was an
amazing show, full of so much talent and love, and I wish I would have
remembered a lot more of it. Ginger Minj and Naysha Lopez were amazing
hosts, as hilarious as they were competent, having the local queens open
the show was AMAZING (they got bigger cheers than anyone!), Phi Phi
came out as Christina Aguilera during a "Lady Marmalade" number that
slayed me, and I hope she was able to take a deep breath when it was
over, take all of that love in, and be very proud of herself for what
she accomplished.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/kxZD0VQvfqU/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/kxZD0VQvfqU?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
Sarah McPeck and I saw Sandra
Bernhard at The Cedar. It was marred only by a horrible drunk woman
sitting next behind me who wanted to "WHOO!!!" at everything Sandra was
saying, as if we were at a Def Leppard concert. I would have said
something, but my ticket was free because Sarah had a press pass from
TwinCitiesGayScene.com, and who was I to complain? At the end of the
show, Sandra sang "My Love is Your Love" which is my favorite song in
the entire world and I decided it was the Lord's way of telling me
something, and what that was I haven't figured out just yet.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
We
went to a Beyoncé-themed Halloween party, so I wore a marigold hoodie
with holes in it and went as a boy version of Beyoncé. Somehow I got to
bring my toy bat into the club even though eveyone else's got
confiscated. It was only worth it for when "Hold Up" played. I don't
even know where I put it.<br />
<br />
We were dancing with my
friend Sander, who is an excellent dancer of mixed race. I only bring up
his race because we were in the basement when "Bodak Yellow" came on.
"Ugh," he groaned. "Now watch all these white girls pretend to be black.
<i>Yeah, you think it's fun NOW, don't you?" </i>I am from St. Anthony, so I think that means I will have enough white guilt to last for a lifetime.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/G7plXOc_L_0/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/G7plXOc_L_0?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
We
stopped at The Saloon after the show, and The Broski™ was standing at
the bar by himself. Last time <a href="http://jakeyon.blogspot.com/2017/10/loring-park-episode-70-is-this-thing-on.html" target="_blank">I saw him I cried like a big idiot</a>, and
the last time I had seen him before <i>that</i> was when he told me "I'm
gonna need a few days" and <a href="http://jakeyon.blogspot.com/2015/05/loring-park-adjacent-episode-1-and-rest.html" target="_blank">never spoke to me for two and a half years</a>. I
didn't know what to do. I looked around for Steve, but he had already
been stopped by his friends, so I decided to channel my inner Beyoncé
and be a strong and independent woman, and also hoped that he wouldn't
notice that I was wearing eye shadow.<br />
<br />
"Nice costume," I smirked. "What are you supposed to be? A suburban father of two?"<br />
"Fuck
you," he smiled, and that SMILE. GOD DAMMIT SON OF A BITCH. I
maintained my composure by hitting him with my toy bat for the rest of
our conversation, because I am an adult.<br />
<br />
I felt a
strange kind of sad when I got home after that. I told him he could call
me with the knowledge that he never will. And I'm fine with that. Two
and a half years is a long time, children. Despite the fact that I was a
paranoid garbage person dumpster fire for most of 2016 and a
binge-drinking manchild for most of 2017, I still think I grew up a
little.<br />
<br />
And in some ways I really regressed.<br />
<br />
This was the hardest year of my adult life.<br />
<br />
And yet I wouldn't call it the worst.<br />
<br />
2016
was the worst because I wasn't dealing with anything. When I was mad at
Jared, <a href="http://jakeyon.blogspot.com/2016/04/loring-park-episode-58-disenchanted.html" target="_blank">I moved out for a month</a>. When I was mad at Steve, I told
everyone about it but him. I kept all my paranoia and fears to myself so
that they could fester. 2017 was the year in which I tried to fix all
the damage I had created. I'm not sure how I well I did.<br />
<br />
Jared
and I reconciled, but I don't see him nearly as much as I used to. I
miss the days when he was the wacky neighbor who would just stroll in on
random afternoons. I don't miss that sometimes our yard was his storage
locker for a while, but we worked through that.<br />
<br />
I had to learn that people are responsible for their choices, but also that they have the right to make them.<br />
<br />
"I
don't want our friendship to be over because of a dude," I had said to
someone very close to me in January. "That's such a cliche." And then
that happened anyway! And I was really sad! But it wasn't just because
of a dude. I framed it that way because it was easier to deal with than
having to realize that I caused a lot of pain to others and admitting what I did. It was easier to deal with than having to realize
that I hadn't progressed as a person in <i>years</i> and was still
trying to live like a 25-year-old club kid when most 25-year-olds are
trying to act like adults anyway. It was easier to deal with than having
to realize that sex is currency and I was bankrupt. It was easier to
deal with than getting sober. It was easier to deal with than having to
actually tell people how I felt about everything.<br />
<br />
I even
had a boyfriend this year but I didn't know what I was doing, or when he
was actually my boyfriend, because we never really figured that part
out. "I don't want to put a label on it," he had said a month into it
when I was crying and asked him what the hell to call him. That was a
fair and valid answer, especially considering he is younger than me
(they <i>always</i> are! Hashtag ocelot problems). Then I didn't even know what <i>I</i>
wanted anymore, and we both remained bewildered and angry. (And it's a
copout, but it is partly why I didn't blog as much this year. I wasn't
gonna be writing about ... <i>That. </i>Writing about silly nights at
the bar and unrequited romance was the majority of my adult life, and
actual relationships? That gets kind of dicey. It's only my side of
every story, not his, and to put that all on blast wouldn't be fair.
It's not easy being Mr. Jakey Emmert.)<br />
<br />
I was so focused
on emotionally preparing myself for the ending that I wasn't able to
enjoy the beginning and the middle. I don't know how to be a boyfriend. I
want him to be with someone who is nice to him and was born in the '90s
and has a tight ass and doesn't drink very much and enjoys sex multiple
times a day and doesn't yell at him about stuff that happened a long
time ago. I can't have nice things.<br />
<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3FzlSV50Hjdh1pQJ6jdUkFXJjwhZW7pvrx19k2PI28VomA83wV-eYLfdoEwdsdgSSTrOainwfydTgO-XBWHZF0n1ij-3ZLWKMUb5CjEuRRqihLHqC3QyMdwFmK-QkoLIKStCj6v-h0lNe/s1600/chicagocomedy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3FzlSV50Hjdh1pQJ6jdUkFXJjwhZW7pvrx19k2PI28VomA83wV-eYLfdoEwdsdgSSTrOainwfydTgO-XBWHZF0n1ij-3ZLWKMUb5CjEuRRqihLHqC3QyMdwFmK-QkoLIKStCj6v-h0lNe/s320/chicagocomedy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I
was lucky enough to have shows at the Comedy Corner Underground with
Rana May and these two very talented comedians from Chicago. Steve
graciously drove me to the first show, where Shelly Paul kicked two drunk
guys out right away! A girl that was at the show ran into me at Target
last week and delightfully reminisced about this. Also at the first
show, I again won a gold medal in the Space Cadet Olympics because I
left my phone at home and I didn't want Steve to have to drive back
because a) it wasn't his fault and b) parking would have been atrocious,
so I drove his Hyundai back to the house like Mario Andretti and Rana
let me go on last. Erin came to the second show, and for some reason I
was talking about Chyna (from wrestling) and National History Day, and
when the show ended, Rana played Chyna's entrance theme music. My career
had peaked.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Don't treat me like a womannnn</i><br />
<i>Don't treat me like a mannnn</i><br />
<i>Don't treat me like you know me</i><br />
<i>Just treat me for who and what I ammmmmmmmm</i><br />
<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
I
decided to host a pre-Thanskgiving party at my place! I was nervous
because I had to work all day and Erin AND Greta AND Diva couldn't
attend, so I didn't know how much food to buy, et cetera. Thankfully
(ha!), Steve took a half-day and took care of most of it. Carla was the
first person to show up, and then Reid, and then Chuck, Marco, and
William came, but all we were doing was playing Trouble and I was
worried that nobody was having fun. Jared was there for a little bit so
me, him, and Reid all walked to Wendy's to get ice. <br />
<br />
Then Jack showed up and looked <i>gooood.</i>
He was wearing an outfit that is kind of Indiana Jones, but I am
reticent to call it that, because last time he was wearing it I told him
he looked like a sexy film noir detective.<br />
<br />
"Oh my god, <i>thank you,"</i> he said. "Everyone else keeps saying I looked like Indiana Jones."<br />
"How lame," I rolled my eyes/swooned. <br />
"Oh my god!" Carla then cried, as she hadn't been listening. "You look like Indiana Jones!"<br />
<br />
We still
kept running out of ice. Then I was worried that my friend Ron wouldn't
show up but I didn't want to be sad about it because we had so many
other people there and I wanted to focus on the <i>is</i> and not the <i>isn't</i>.
Ron lives far away but was visiting for the holidays, and I am burying
the lead, which is that he looks like a 2004 Abercrombie & Fitch bag
and thinks I'm funny.<br />
<br />
About half an hour before we were
to leave, Ron showed up without knocking and with three girls; one of
whom I met briefly last summer and the other two were total strangers.<br />
<br />
"Excuse me, sir," I said as I stood to greet him while most of the jaws in the room dropped. "I think you have the wrong house."<br />
"No, I don't," he grinned. I stood up to greet him and walked into the kitchen to make cocktails.<br />
"Hey," he smiled again. "I want to lift you up."<br />
<br />
Then he lifted me up and spun me around and I thought about turkeys being slaughtered to prevent myself from getting a boner.<br />
<br />
Jack
valiantly tried to get my Polaroid to work, but it was to no avail, and
I enjoyed the fact that he was in my bedroom anyway (my brain was being
a <i>slut</i> that night!).<br />
<br />
Our group split so Steve,
Ron, Carla and I went to honey and Jack, Reid, went to The Saloon. As
for the lesbians, I let them stay in the house as long as they promised
to lock up. You may call that irresponsible but in my defense: a) Steve
was also cool with it, b) I work with the aunt of <i>one</i> of them, and c) <i>NOTHING</i> was stolen or messed with the next day, not even my Adderall. Lesbians are our planet's most noble inhabitants.<br />
<br />
We
danced the night away at honey, and then got to The Saloon at 11:50. I
saw Reid talking to an attractive man and instantly wanted to introduce
myself.<br />
<br />
"Hi, Reid," I chirped.<br />
"Not now, Jakey," said Reid, clearly swooping in for the kill. "Shut the fuck up." Reid does not do fake and I respect that.<br />
<br />
The
Broski™ was at The Saloon and I tried to get him to think that Ron was
my boyfriend, but Ron was oblivious and I was being immature anyway.
Joey, who had a front row seat to this shitshow in 2013 (!), was staring
daggers at me from across the room. When Wesley left, I drunkenly ran
up to him.<br />
<br />
"He's not in my life," I said. "He just showed up."<br />
"He better not be," said Joey.<br />
<br />
The
next day, Reid, Steve, and I went to The Saloon to watch the Vikings
game SKOL VIKES SKOL. Reid was going to Thanksgiving with me in Blaine
but changed his mind, which was totally fine, but I didn't tell my
grandparents about it so when I got there, they were a little perturbed.
I still like watching the games because of all the yelling. <br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Steve
went to Mexico with his mother as a Christmas present. I brought my
mother peridot earrings for Christmas that were $30 after my discount. I
was supposed to have peridot as my birthstone, but I was early so she
had to settle for ruby instead. <i>Settling for Rubies</i> will be the name of my fifth memoir.<br />
<br />
Erin and I saw "The Star" featuring the song <i>The Star</i>
written by Mariah Carey and if it does not win at the Golden Globes, I
will spend more hours crying in the fetal position than usual.<br />
<br />
Sean
invited us to an ugly Christmas sweater party! Casey and his boo were
there, as was my friend Billy, whose phone number I had about five
phones ago. Billy is <i>dreamy</i> but was really tanked when we got
there and kept trying to lift everybody up and it was soooooo annoyinggg
(meaning, yes, I was all for it). Charlie couldn't come until the very
end and we listened to sad songs, but I still wanted to go The Saloon.
It was 1:45 A.M., my phone was dead, and Steve was wasted. So did we go
home like sane people? Of course not! I hailed a cab and we got there
right before bar close. Then it turns out that The Broski™ was there,
and he was angry at the world, which included us. I went into full Mom
Mode and he crashed on our sofa, which would have made 2013 Jakey
pleased as punch but just made 2017 Jakey kinda sad and made 2017 Steve
irate. At least he paid for his Uber the next day. Then Steve and I met
Charlie at the HiLo Diner and I felt just like Adele. <br />
<br />
On
Christmas Eve Eve, we went to MARIAH CAREY CHRISTMAS DRAG BRUNCH!!!! It
was legit the best afternoon of my life and I couldn't believe it all
worked out. Loretta, Erin, Steve, Reid, Lane (our fellow lamb!), Carla,
and Ron were my table. Ron didn't know my mother was going to be there
and wore an ugly Christmas crop top, which I guess is the West Coast
version of an ugly Christmas sweater. I wore a red suit from Opposuits
that I look rather fetching in, but I didn't think it would be <i>hot</i>
at Union, and by the halfway mark I realized I was sitting in a pool of
my own butt sweat. Lane wore a fetching blazer and Erin and Carla wore
festive sweaters. Kamaree Williams did a "We Belong Together/Don't
Forget About Us" medley. I bought presents for everyone. Ron sat at the
end so a certain drag queen practically made love to him in lieu of
lip-syncing. We all ki-ki'd at my house after, which was enjoyable,
except I had too much tequila and everyone else was too drunk to play
Trouble. Also, Steve bought an Alexa and Carla kept requesting songs but
then kept changing her mind every fifteen seconds. It reminded me of
being in the car with Jared.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
I didn't write as much as I wanted to, but I got into performing again. I had to remind myself to fall in love with it. <br />
<br />
I never put the New Year's Eve episode back up.<br />
<br />
I dunno.<br />
<br />
I
thought after all that I was going to do the whole "new year, new me"
thing. But when I entered the house with that new attitude on January
2nd, what was literally my worst nightmare was <i>right there in front of me,</i>
and I didn't know how to deal with it. So I just drank and told myself
that alcohol wasn't the problem. I often felt like I was on the
sidelines or on the periphery. Any aggrieved parties have since moved
on. The hatchets have been buried, the olive branches accepted. I don't
know what is still wrong with me or why I am always so angry.<br />
<br />
I
chose to be alone on this New Year's Eve. It used to be my favorite day
of the year but I ruined it for myself. I'm not flying solo to punish
anybody or to be a martyr. I just don't want to be around anyone I know.
I'm going to a crowded event where I can disappear in the balloons and
glitter and heterosexuals. At 3 A.M. I will go home by myself and listen
to "New Year's Day" by Taylor Swift and hug a teddy bear. I have
already made peace with this.<br />
<br />
I got a letter in the mail yesterday saying that my therapist is leaving.<br />
<br />
I wasn't as scared as I thought I would be.<br />
<br />
<i>There's glitter on the floor after the party<br />
Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby<br />
Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor<br />
You and me forevermore</i>
<i><br />
Don't read the last page<br />
But I stay when it's hard, or it's wrong<br />
Or we're making mistakes<br />
I want your midnights<br />
But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day</i>
<i><br />
Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you<br />
Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you<br />
Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you<br />
And I will hold on to you</i>
<i><br />
Please don't ever become a stranger<br />
Whose laugh I could recognize anywhere<br />
Please don't ever become a stranger<br />
Whose laugh I could recognize anywhere
</i><br />
jakeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05687321925107280139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757619093854217193.post-54794140439170803652017-10-04T14:08:00.000-07:002020-07-30T12:13:55.183-07:00Loring Park Episode #70: Is This Thing On?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGH8aNnt11wwHLAefZ0zvxKGv8_5PP1sYsIesv0hxEYJYA3euk9x0hwTbuIOYVnYL8oHQDO5Vy3H5aEZujAP68KynIp85Cm4oljeKU8h9t8Lc1JgatzSTz5H8FEa4VtF1J8lTpBAoiwceS/s1600/pullmyfinger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGH8aNnt11wwHLAefZ0zvxKGv8_5PP1sYsIesv0hxEYJYA3euk9x0hwTbuIOYVnYL8oHQDO5Vy3H5aEZujAP68KynIp85Cm4oljeKU8h9t8Lc1JgatzSTz5H8FEa4VtF1J8lTpBAoiwceS/s320/pullmyfinger.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/SJc8lLP8geg/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/SJc8lLP8geg?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
Hello, dear readers! I know this has been my longest hiatus from writing ever. And I don't really have an excuse. I would tell people the following:<br />
<br />
*Life got a little messy and I didn't know how much of it was okay to share.<br />
<br />
*It's okay for me to talk about my own screw-ups and drama, but to divulge details about others veers into gossip; I didn't want to be a loudmouth but I didn't want to be cryptic either. I was fixated on an idea of <i>the group,</i> and who I was in<i> the group,</i> and once <i>the group</i> dispersed and went in ways that did not fit my comfort zone, I had a really hard time with it.<br />
<br />
There is no group. Was there ever? I had to learn to focus on individualized friendships -- what is my relationship with Person A? Person B? Person C? -- instead of obsessing about <i>the group, </i>being popular, being Queen Bee, knowing everything about everyone, being obsessive if Person B was having a relationship with Person C or if Person D was no longer speaking to Person E or if Person F and Person G really didn't like Person H all that much.<br />
<br />
*I just got lazy. Depressed? Lazy. Lazy with a spackle of depression. I thought the worst was over and for a while it wasn't.<br />
<br />
So let's recap what the hell happened in the last five months, shall we? And a lot of this is gonna sound terse and like I'm blowing it off. I'm not, but we have to fast-forward so I can get back to updating biweekly/monthly and not doing it in this style. I'll try to do everything in order:<br />
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Our friends Ria and Micah had a housewarming party for their new house after a tragic fire last year. It was a reminder that love and friendship is what is truly valuable. We drove with the hilarious Sunny Kiriyama, so I was <i>living.</i></li>
<li>My sexually ambiguous crush came to town and when he came over to pre-game, I thought he was going to bring a lady friend but he was just by himself, in his 6'2" bronzed movie star glory, and when I found my wallet after I thought I lost it, we broski-hugged. He went home with a supermodel that night. The next day at The Eagle, he made kissie faces at me in the bathroom and tried to push my head under the dryer. Nothing happened unless you count putting my arm around him in the Uber. "I'm obsessed with you," he smiled before leaving, and he kissed me on the forehead. I am 30 going on 16.</li>
</ul>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/hKx8o7J3V68/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/hKx8o7J3V68?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<ul>
<li>Dane and I saw Everclear do their "So Much for the Afterglow" show at Treasure Island Casino. It is one of my favorite non-Mariah Carey albums ever, and was very formative of my youth. The songs were frank about fractured relationship, drug use, and mental illness. It made a lot more sense to me as an adult.</li>
<li>Erin and I got our tarot cards read and Cassandra immediately saw mental illness. I tried to explain without explaining the events of last year. "You allowed yourself to believe very negative things about yourself that are not true," she said. </li>
</ul>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlMLnIVfX7aRvQ2dIR0LGL7dR6mKIeR9xQwdHwZIVRzEBQSKDPhc6V9zfk9tAVTX_On6kXYENKdBbUjm8DqyTD7NaXczPALIFh7NdwjM52yaQc6lRcsxTB0F6nOFQQZwN6dAMyfNwhRmw8/s1600/bathrobe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlMLnIVfX7aRvQ2dIR0LGL7dR6mKIeR9xQwdHwZIVRzEBQSKDPhc6V9zfk9tAVTX_On6kXYENKdBbUjm8DqyTD7NaXczPALIFh7NdwjM52yaQc6lRcsxTB0F6nOFQQZwN6dAMyfNwhRmw8/s320/bathrobe.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<ul>
<li>My uncle graciously bought tickets to the Twins game and it was the longest game in Target Field history!! I had to leave early because I had a mental health fundraiser at LUSH that night. I performed in my bathrobe and framed it as a "fireside chat".</li>
<li>Steve gave me an ultimatum before going to Denver about drinking and I wasn't mature about it. Because he had not ruined all his interpersonal relationships via alcohol abuse, he still got to drink and go on dates and I didn't think it was fair. Erin, her husband, Jared, his boyfriend, Loretta and I all went to the Mariah vs. Ariana drag brunch at Union and it was heavenly even with my Shirley Temples! Sometimes I wonder why people don't live in Minneapolis. Later we went to bingo and nobody won. I felt like a very ashamed homosexual, as if my people had let my family down.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSnnan1zSLGHCeC2j1oo9KiGJEUiwFGEln4E9ubpz4gkNzruhjxeKiL0_P-q-VFW7E8WR3N6YbbWtXxKyWfRTdmuPNZTtXRI5qHZo5h3ZRgV1wXEGP6tc4R97lZ0_NdLRhUqGcK1Audy54/s1600/prideisageless.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="608" data-original-width="1080" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSnnan1zSLGHCeC2j1oo9KiGJEUiwFGEln4E9ubpz4gkNzruhjxeKiL0_P-q-VFW7E8WR3N6YbbWtXxKyWfRTdmuPNZTtXRI5qHZo5h3ZRgV1wXEGP6tc4R97lZ0_NdLRhUqGcK1Audy54/s320/prideisageless.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0gRAIiATZXr06FVEuO7gJQZmtHnm2h-NGg4apRxjqXOrCSvXuqEpGIbI_0ESagAaftvz0aoJE3R0D19bSwclzTSq2X2LdHdr-mzH4ZgHM7C0cpiUJ5wJMYWcH1SH1SE-BE3v23HiydsPG/s1600/pepandaja.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="372" data-original-width="370" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0gRAIiATZXr06FVEuO7gJQZmtHnm2h-NGg4apRxjqXOrCSvXuqEpGIbI_0ESagAaftvz0aoJE3R0D19bSwclzTSq2X2LdHdr-mzH4ZgHM7C0cpiUJ5wJMYWcH1SH1SE-BE3v23HiydsPG/s320/pepandaja.jpg" width="318" /></a></div>
<ul>
<li>We went to Denver Pride and saw Chad Michaels, Aja, Alexis Michelle, and Peppermint. They have some great local talent in that city, too! Taylor Dayne sang too hard and she couldn't hit the high notes when she finally got to "Tell it to My Heart". I would later find out from our local bartenders that she was rude when she was here.</li>
<li>We went to the marijuana dispensary to see what it was like but I didn't inhale.</li>
<li>At the mall, I ran into a woman who complimented my rainbow Converse shoes (exclusively from Nordstrom!) and she knew the name of the owner of the gay bar we went to every night, but now I forget it. I thought of an alternate reality in which we moved to Denver and made it our own. <i> </i></li>
<li>A Facebook crush of mine whom I have never met was at the same club we were at, and I texted my friend Angie to make sure it was him. She verified he was there and encouraged me to say something, but I always feel some kind of way when I am on vacation.<i> </i></li>
<li>We almost missed our flight on the way back so I signed up for CLEAR and headlined LUSH that night. It felt very "show must go on".<i> </i></li>
<li>A week later, was OUR Pride! We had the party on Thursday instead. I am always amazed by how many people we invite over and how many of them bring food and how lucky we are.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWJoLQcxOx_-8gnkOxLoQ5SW-tXt-uqwbyVlAr9_rR1SZFPKZzN51mxpPuCr_x5jwfQw0KZweVyHtRG9jY_3F-FA6qizY8SSJxosUD4ME8ky_BU1qXxZm_UHvFl1_S07uaK5rlJq36ufHn/s1600/women.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWJoLQcxOx_-8gnkOxLoQ5SW-tXt-uqwbyVlAr9_rR1SZFPKZzN51mxpPuCr_x5jwfQw0KZweVyHtRG9jY_3F-FA6qizY8SSJxosUD4ME8ky_BU1qXxZm_UHvFl1_S07uaK5rlJq36ufHn/s320/women.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQWaSyf6o0bex8mJ0t6ETdOtu3Wwt_sjm_Hire0xGvrzWAs8cn4cc63BMfEadyEc48ll6itjsV8twLzeaZdnLQVzLtKRnhBFPhMRuVWbVrasvZvDyYzDlF_JF9wmVU3u_bqK6QuZHGSZjR/s1600/daddy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQWaSyf6o0bex8mJ0t6ETdOtu3Wwt_sjm_Hire0xGvrzWAs8cn4cc63BMfEadyEc48ll6itjsV8twLzeaZdnLQVzLtKRnhBFPhMRuVWbVrasvZvDyYzDlF_JF9wmVU3u_bqK6QuZHGSZjR/s320/daddy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<ul>
<li>I only let myself be sad about who wasn't at the party for just a little bit.</li>
<li>The weather sucked this year.</li>
</ul>
It might be my age, but I realized that while I was happy to have gone to Denver Pride, doing two Pride weekends back-to-back is <i>exhausting.</i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVRFvL7LE_KfDfmc9spaN0f-ozbf25CCavC5joI9P8iCS_oGsdkf-_zoCNQgre6bguNqJEhJJWycENfERWYZJ9b3BZSSdgmI2qWMDBfdb5dcEDQTRnBT9QeyHPl1BtXSl1YIK-WOg1aIc5/s1600/matteolane.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="485" data-original-width="388" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVRFvL7LE_KfDfmc9spaN0f-ozbf25CCavC5joI9P8iCS_oGsdkf-_zoCNQgre6bguNqJEhJJWycENfERWYZJ9b3BZSSdgmI2qWMDBfdb5dcEDQTRnBT9QeyHPl1BtXSl1YIK-WOg1aIc5/s320/matteolane.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYueoSMdpKSE8bkPm5LkkYy1H_2Zrr5S2yEBL0j-2l1C87wOWCcb4CYu_MJ0NTwlk_0mGWVTOqrHn3oCsHIzgIQ_8XdCpJkwIeOV_bJMMe1qoXRUCZEdVh5jNT0ZFxSq-SM_4WCNsVWSmC/s1600/withmatteo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYueoSMdpKSE8bkPm5LkkYy1H_2Zrr5S2yEBL0j-2l1C87wOWCcb4CYu_MJ0NTwlk_0mGWVTOqrHn3oCsHIzgIQ_8XdCpJkwIeOV_bJMMe1qoXRUCZEdVh5jNT0ZFxSq-SM_4WCNsVWSmC/s320/withmatteo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<ul>
<li>I had two shows at Sisyphus Brewing with Matteo Lane who was hilarious and DREAMY! I got to chat with Grace Thomas before she moved to Chicago. Jason Schommer and Matteo shared stories about celebrities they knew and I was in <i>heaven!</i></li>
<li>After the show, I realized that I had been living off nothing but Red Bull for the past two days and my colon exploded. I still went to The Saloon at 1:30 A.M. because I had already paid for the weekend pass.<i> </i>What's a little explosive diarrhea?</li>
<li>I went to my cousin's grad party that Saturday and there was a torrential downpour and my aunt Jen was heroic in saving the furniture and decorations.</li>
<li>We went to bingo because it was at 60 numbers but the cover-all still didn't go and I won, like, $25.<i> </i><b> </b></li>
<li>I was in the parade and completely over-exerted myself. I couldn't walk or talk for three days.</li>
<li>I lost my ID. Because it's always something. </li>
<li>I wanted to do a pre-gaming house party for my birthday and was encouraged by many to not do a birthday. I still went to the library and made bingo sheets and Erin and Jared went to the thrift store with me to buy tacky prizes. No one had responded to the Facebook event and I realized I was probably being greedy because we had just had a house party for Pride, but it's not <i>my</i> fault that my birthday is in the middle of July and Pride is at the end of June!</li>
<li>I was getting a Brazilian wax at Waxing the City on Friday the 14th, and when I was going to come home from it, Steve and I were going to a fancy art show. He kept keeping tabs on when I was coming home and his Virgo-ness was getting really annoying. Then Jared called right before I got home and I figured he probably needed to borrow my car again (he had turned our house into his own storage locker that summer, but now he is renting a garage and is rather lucratively refurbishing household items and furniture -- I admire his entrepreneurial spirit).</li>
<li>I pulled into the driveway and Jared was outside. "Steve's waiting for you," Jared said. "Tell Steve to calm down," I said. "Traffic was bad." We walked into my room from the backyard. Our apartment has a weird set-up where the entry to the backyard is connected to my bedroom (which is why I usually have the driveway), and then my room is connected to the kitchen and living area. I say this only to set up the scene that while I was stressing out about running late even though I was trying to be on time and I just wanted to take a shower, when I opened my bedroom door to the kitchen, I was greeted with a loud "SURPRISE!" and two little boys I had never met spraying me with Silly String, and there were so many people I couldn't even see them all at first (and I turned around and took a few seconds before going in because I didn't want anyone to see my face), but I had seen Steve (who had masterminded the whole thing), and Erin (who went to the store with me! Traitor!), Reid, Charlie (who made the cake), and my father ...</li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg7u1Xps9YFwIvrTN3H6Q70kCEyvt8iOrPtHkqudu4EPVczL6V6nEIj9EWaGUl6_gjq7QNuAFEmsx9zZk82fcNcE2E0lY27HyG4gFTukFWDJ75L7bOd8opGcJxU-npc29wU7lMZqDJK0Kq/s1600/idontknowher.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="274" data-original-width="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg7u1Xps9YFwIvrTN3H6Q70kCEyvt8iOrPtHkqudu4EPVczL6V6nEIj9EWaGUl6_gjq7QNuAFEmsx9zZk82fcNcE2E0lY27HyG4gFTukFWDJ75L7bOd8opGcJxU-npc29wU7lMZqDJK0Kq/s1600/idontknowher.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/7KVxjQUCyn0" width="480"></iframe><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Nick Lachey could getttttttt itttttttt</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<ul>
<li>About 30 people were there when all was said and done. I knew Steve did PR for his internship but I still don't know how he pulled it off. My parents knew about it. My aunt and uncle showed up! I was truly surprised. Lee did a video later on Facebook of everyone with the Mariah cake saying "I don't know her" about me and I still watch it when I need a pick-me-up. And I loved the people there, how diverse they were in their walks of life (not just in race and age, but that, too), and it made me realize that maybe I had done something right in these 31 years of life. </li>
</ul>
We went to Betty Danger's and bingo on my actual birthday. Lee was the only one who came to the "real" party, which was okay.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8UI1Zs3uA8kQ5h8C8kMgl6ZbPtTYGEWGCc_MfAwY3UT1e-Y5IMP8VsdwF25D4whcUTlcvPaT3nqD_8WSTMFPUEnjJMvm1q56pHRinPv9RxDaAkuq2BiP_L5RoMhouT24P4AIuSo2JgQqC/s1600/familyphoto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8UI1Zs3uA8kQ5h8C8kMgl6ZbPtTYGEWGCc_MfAwY3UT1e-Y5IMP8VsdwF25D4whcUTlcvPaT3nqD_8WSTMFPUEnjJMvm1q56pHRinPv9RxDaAkuq2BiP_L5RoMhouT24P4AIuSo2JgQqC/s320/familyphoto.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<ul>
<li>The next day was Charlie's birthday and I was exhausted but I went anyway and had an anxiety attack at his dinner. It's the weirdest thing because once I got to The Saloon, I felt relaxed! I hadn't felt well that whole day, but Charlie's birthday is literally the day after mine, and it would take a real narcissistic asshole to be like, <i>Um, thanks for coming to my surprise party on Friday night and my Bingo brunch on Saturday afternoon, but I'm too tired to do YOUR birthday now. </i>And it was all in my head, because the dinner was delicious and his friends are perfectly friendly. I am still an asshole, though, because I lost his favorite Alanis Morrisette shirt and didn't try to replace it until he finally called me to the carpet eight months afterward.</li>
<li>Reid got a new job. Steve got a promotion. I almost got fired.</li>
</ul>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/0Mf6f45RA3o/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/0Mf6f45RA3o?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<ul>
<li>I performed at my friend Anne's birthday party and my brother sat next to a broski gay I've had a crush on forever! I think he did it just to fuck with me. I wanted to present a cougar theme, so I came out to Sable's music. In a weird way, it felt like I was both doing stand-up and cutting a heel WWE promo.</li>
<li>Some drunk man came up to my brother and me and was convinced we weren't twins. At one point I wanted to tell him he was right, and how grateful I was that he was in the hospital that night to verify the truth.</li>
<li>My crush gave my brother a wet-willy. I wanted to die!</li>
<li>I <i>finally</i> patched things up with the worst heartbreak of my adult life, which is a credit to his maturity and not mine. While I hate the saying "It is what it is" because it's creatively and intellectually lazy .... it is what it is. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<ul>
<li>Speaking of heartbreak, I ran into all three of my fake ex-boyfriends in different intervals. I ran into Kevin and it was lovely until I tried talking to him about a controversial shooting and verdict, which maybe wasn't the best topic when I was tipsy and fired up (then again, what <i>is?</i>) Paul Ryan and I went to a Fringe Festival show and an after party, but I was embarrassed for crying in front of him about something else, and I was terribly under-dressed when we went to The W. I ran into Wesley and for years had my speech prepared, but then when I first saw him I was surprisingly calm and told myself I wouldn't instigate anything. I did my usual froot loop and he grabbed me by the shirt and said "Hey" in that gravely voice behind those sad and glassy blue eyes, and I felt all the things I always did, and it was an absolute disaster. He is never going to change, and I am worried that I won't, either. Quinn was there, too, and the whole thing felt like I was back in 2013 all over again. I texted Jared the next day. "I knew it," he said. "I could feel it in the wind as I was walking by." The next week Quinn saw me and said, "I saw him that night, too, and I get it," and I said "Thank you," and maybe it was four years overdue, but we finally acknowledged that we were both good people who got hurt and that our pain was valid. It was easier to be mad at each other than be mad at the dude who had played us. We would be lousy women. It's like Tyra Banks's talk show never even happened.</li>
<li>Steve and I went to the State Fair and only stayed for three hours. Maybe I'm not a fair person? I felt bad because it's such a hassle to get there and everything. Maybe I'm not doing it right. My friend Katelyn goes, literally, <i>every day of the Fair </i>and is never bored. Did you know I met the real Sweet Martha at my work? She is, like, the nicest lady. Were I not a better man, I would even describe her as sweet.</li>
<li> We went to Chicago for Steve's birthday. My favorite things were the ferris wheel, the Writer's Museum, running into Celebrity for the 500th time (and he <i>still</i> doesn't know he's in love with me yet), meeting friendly locals, and the Nordstrom on Michigan Avenue. I want to live there. I am always grateful for the lapse of time when Steve is eight years younger than me instead of seven, because it just sounds so gross. But then I am reminded of his youth when he admits certain things, like how he has never seen <i>Chicago! </i></li>
</ul>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/9EpaMmF9WVU" width="480"></iframe><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/Fq4Phcjy4o4/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Fq4Phcjy4o4?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Q5dbLFZnzfZlauPx0oGIMrPydJDiUuVaNGepTLXKOm8d4_2ICp3Cj675-lGjS9TDvK2fZAgTNZNZxETT53dGzTyO3ynMYH7shx_SpX3iYpsrdj17FXfcZPtZPXQNV5mvUOYD2HUpGnc2/s1600/cocoperu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Q5dbLFZnzfZlauPx0oGIMrPydJDiUuVaNGepTLXKOm8d4_2ICp3Cj675-lGjS9TDvK2fZAgTNZNZxETT53dGzTyO3ynMYH7shx_SpX3iYpsrdj17FXfcZPtZPXQNV5mvUOYD2HUpGnc2/s320/cocoperu.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
I saw Coco Peru by myself. I was nervous about going alone, especially for meet and greet, and I even said so on Twitter. "You won't be by yourself!" she wrote. "I'll be there!" And her show was all about living your own dream, and not being afraid, not having regrets, all of that. The meet and greet was onstage in front of your fellow VIPs, so I felt <i>really</i> self-conscious. One of the best tricks that anxiety plays on you is convincing you that everyone is looking at you/making fun of you/thinking the worst of you. The reality is that people don't care about you -- not in a callous way, but they're paying attention to their own thoughts and surroundings. They <i>see</i> you but that's it. So I was nervous, and getting in line to go on stage was like that awkward situation when your plane has landed and you're not sure when to make a break for it to get in the hallway.<br />
<br />
I babbled and told her about the tweets. "Oh, that was you!" she smiled. She was warm, genuine, and lovely.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvBWxu-jSDxsGdy3usmaa1cxF18lNmJo5f8SJqZCOVOx_fXjn9DXJpxc73Dql5c3rWoGkg5htdMEcLPSKzJr_jONpMhUdopxDo8gwwExAEjwnH54Qoo_K4je5XMnHhdUNnQUPVfh6zVwd0/s1600/dadis60.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvBWxu-jSDxsGdy3usmaa1cxF18lNmJo5f8SJqZCOVOx_fXjn9DXJpxc73Dql5c3rWoGkg5htdMEcLPSKzJr_jONpMhUdopxDo8gwwExAEjwnH54Qoo_K4je5XMnHhdUNnQUPVfh6zVwd0/s320/dadis60.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
My father turned 60! This is me taking a candid. It took the waitress 10 times to take a picture that was to my mother's liking. My brother complained the entire time. It's like he has never met my mother and grandmother before. This happens <i>every</i> time they are together, that the night ends in a prolonged photo session. In the immortal words of Shea Coulee, "Why are you acting brand new? Who's after Peppermint?"<br />
<br />
Speaking of that season, I spoke with Alexis Michelle on the patio of The Saloon about the meet-and-greet in Denver. I felt so professional!<br />
<br />
I hope to write a lot during NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) and get back to performing again and, I don't know, showing up to my life. I look back and I really do have something there, y'know? I guess I am trying to say that I am grateful for and love each and every one of you.<br />
<br />
Xoxo,<br />
JME <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />jakeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05687321925107280139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757619093854217193.post-78178543657632419702017-05-18T17:56:00.001-07:002020-07-30T12:13:57.644-07:00Loring Park Episode #69: A Boy's Best Friend is His MotherPreviously on <i>Loring Park: A five-year friendship took a break. "Moonlight" won Best Picture. Ariana Grande sang "Moonlight". Jakey didn't drink for six days.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>I am happy to inform you that I survived April. It's a recurring theme of my life that things go sour in April (remember last year, th<a href="http://jakeyon.blogspot.com/2016/04/loring-park-episode-58-disenchanted.html" target="_blank">e height of my passive-aggressively running away from conflict</a>?). I had spent so much of my life identifying with what "group" I was in, or who my best friends were, and while I'm always grateful to have abundant friendships in my life, it was important for me to learn I could hang out by myself and still have a good time.<br />
<i> </i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/WaPy1JBlxcI/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/WaPy1JBlxcI?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<i> </i><br />
<i> </i>Steve went to San Francisco for five days. It was a present he bought for his mother. Do you know what I got my mother for Christmas? Lotion. On a credit card that she helps pay for. I instead got an Armistead Maupin book from the library to have my own San Francisco experience. I happened to have that Saturday and Sunday off, so I was ready to be a single girl about town.<br />
<br />
I went to The Saloon to watch <i>RuPaul's Drag Race.</i> I sat by Liam and Tofu at their table (Tofu isn't his real name, but he goes by it). Everyone at their table was gracious, but I couldn't enjoy myself. I kept seeing _____ and his posse and one of them even got their raffle ticket drawn and got to play Plinko! I booked immediately at 8:01 P.M. My friend Billy asked where I was, but I told him I had already gone home to get pretty and that I might head back out later.<br />
<br />
Carla wanted to go the '90s with a friend, and I thought it would be a great idea! Her friend had a crush on the ridiculously muscular bouncer. Well, who doesn't? The girls came over at about 10 and we pre-gamed until a little after 11. I didn't realize that Carla's friend was driving. I then forgot how horrendous driving downtown is on a Friday night, especially when a concert is just ending at the Target Center. It took forever! We finally parked somewhere on 1st Street, in front of signs that said "NO EVENT PARKING". Carla and I thought this was fine because the event was over, and the car would be fine.<br />
<br />
The '90s had a long line, but if you paid cash you could go in the side door. About ten minutes in, I realized that Carla's friend was drunk and shouldn't be driving home. I asked Carla if she wanted to call a dry drivers service or just come back at 8 in the morning. She said she would take care of it. I then decided to stop worrying! I hadn't been to the '90s in forever, and I loved seeing the bartenders and queens that I knew during my nine month stint of being the Sunday night hostess (I miss the gig and I miss the money, but I also don't miss having to always carve out those two hours a week, especially if I had other plans. I get Sundays off a <i>lot</i> now, whereas before I didn't, and it was easier to go home from work, get ready and then do the '90s, and not be tempted to get too drunk or tired at brunch). The muscular bouncer, Muscle Chris, was his usual friendly self and at one point I was massaging his back without realizing it.<br />
<br />
I told Carla I was gonna head to the Saloon -- it was 1:30, so I could have a drink there and then stay a bit later (they close at 3). The minute I got there my phone rang, and I spent my entire night standing outside on the patio. I heard yelling in the background. It turns out Carla's friend's car <i>did </i>did towed, it was apparently all Carla's fault, and that Carla had her keys in that car so she needed to stay at my house that night.<br />
<br />
I am never going to get laid.<br />
<br />
The cab stopped at The Saloon to pick me up on the way my house. So much for my Friday night. Carla's friend was still bitching and swearing at her and insisted that the cabbie drive her all the way home to Anoka. Carla was trying her best to calm her friend down, but it wasn't happening. I told her to go to the door, and I told the driver to call me when he got to Anoka.<br />
<br />
"You're saying things you're really going to regret in the morning," he kept telling Carla's friend. She wouldn't have it.<br />
<br />
I have been the person who has acted poorly under the influence of alcohol and said horrible things to people who were my close friends. I wanted to believe the best in people, and that she would feel bad enough in the morning. I also didn't want her in my house! What if they fought and argued all night? Carla put on some of my pajamas and we attempted sleep, but we were both too rattled to relax. Oh, and Carla's phone was dead and she has an iPhone and <i>I have an Android, get at me, motherfuckers.</i><br />
<br />
We woke up at 9 and kept calling until 11, when her friend finally answered the phone. After a morning full of coconut water and Red Bull, we were recovered enough to head to Anoka. (Also, Carla watched lame women's wrestling matches with me, so I forgave her for anything). My mom graduated from Anoka High School! Go Tornadoes!<br />
<br />
<i> </i><br />
We got to her friend's house. She said she was on the way down. Then she came outside ten minutes later. Then she enjoyed a cigarette for ten more minutes. On the way to the impound lot she apologized a few times but was also throwing Carla under the bus. I completely checked out at that point and dropped them off at the impound lot.<br />
<br />
Oh! The freeway exit was closed! So my normally five-minute drive home from the impound lot turned to 25. I was already over this day! When I was about to leave, Carla told me that her friend didn't have any money and they had no way to pay to get the car out. I knew if I would have paid it, it would have been on my credit card, meaning Loretta would have been paying it! I finally was able to say "no" to something, and I went to LUSH to play bingo with Markie (Carla told me they later worked it out; I encouraged her to hang out with people who treated her better). I didn't win, but there were cute boys and cute dogs there. Lee was having one of his bi-weekly house parties, and I texted him saying that I wouldn't go because I drank too much at bingo. I had only had two, but I didn't want to drive to Plymouth, especially at night.<br />
<br />
After attempting to take a nap, I looked up how much an Uber would be to Lee's house and it wouldn't be as bad as I thought. Plus, after a night of dealing with squabbling girls and their drama, I needed boys! At least when gays have drama, I can look at them.<br />
<br />
I was still a little nervous. Lee is always a gracious host, but I didn't know who would be there, other than that I was going to be the oldest person there, and would I Uber home right away if it got awkward or would somebody drive me home ...<br />
<br />
It was, of course, pitch black when I got there, and a boy who I have seen on Grindr for years (don't judge! My mom lives somewhat close to the U!) got to the house at the same time I did.<br />
<br />
"Can I walk in with you?" I asked.<br />
"Sure," he smiled.<br />
"What's your name?" I asked.<br />
He responded with a super broski name and I was already feeling nervous.<br />
<br />
There were about 15 boys there, ranging in ages from 21 to ... 24? Oh, God. Brexit was in the kitchen and I have a schoolboy crush on him so of course I talked to everybody else but him because I am a lady.<br />
<br />
The broski quickly changed into a wrestling singlet and Lee pulled me into his room.<br />
<br />
"Debby," he said. Lee is Ruth and I am Debby.<br />
"Debby isn't here yet," I said.<br />
"Okay, fine," Lee said. "Jakey. Who do you have a crush on that's here?"<br />
"What? No one," I said while trying to be coy.<br />
"I like the wrestler," said Lee.<br />
"I like Brexit," I said.<br />
"He has a boyfriend," said Lee.<br />
"Aww," I pouted.<br />
"It's okay," Lee said. "You're still cute."<br />
<br />
We went to the living room and Brexit's boyfriend was doing yoga poses that involved putting his head behind his leg, and I began to understand their entire relationship.<br />
<br />
I supervised beer pong downstairs with the children. Speaking of children, Bruce showed up! Bruce stayed with us last Halloween weekend and I feel like his mother, even if he is 6'2" and ripped.<br />
<br />
Debby eventually emerged. At 3 AM everyone took their shirts off, including Brexit, who has pectoral muscles I could live in. No one asked me to take mine off but I did anyway. (Also, I ended up talking to Brexit and he's nice and smart and more than just a sex object in my head. Good grief.)<br />
<br />
"Ew, you're scrawny," said one of the children. I passed out on a couch. When I woke up there was a gorgeous nerd-cute boy wearing glasses asleep on the neighboring sofa. I did not get his name or penis.<br />
<br />
I am never going to get laid.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
I Uber'd home at around 11:30, and my mother came over to help tidy up the house. I felt a clean home would be the least I could offer Steve! Plus, I had a show that night at LUSH so I didn't feel the need to do a full Sunday Funday. We watched clips on television together before she was off. Despite
having all the time in the world, I got there five minutes late. My Uber
driver was a broski who was kinda cute and tried to drive as fast as he
could.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJezb8HaPB7_cHO5SX9-kzBgeu7xUgbMgqxh2TSJJDdfdWkNEb9EUWKp68rWCLvC8CdmVBBLE0OAfsAumGe6cF43e0oMjiZ3yY-3u6r864lpfcVljwgjQ5wDst2zfzLGfUxbBmMFfQMVoA/s1600/lushshow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJezb8HaPB7_cHO5SX9-kzBgeu7xUgbMgqxh2TSJJDdfdWkNEb9EUWKp68rWCLvC8CdmVBBLE0OAfsAumGe6cF43e0oMjiZ3yY-3u6r864lpfcVljwgjQ5wDst2zfzLGfUxbBmMFfQMVoA/s400/lushshow.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Of course, it's not like I had to get <i>ready.</i> My make-up
consists of a single Tom Ford concealor stick. I felt really schlubby
next to <a href="https://www.instagram.com/martinoizm/" target="_blank">Martina Maraccino,</a> whose outfits and makeup are nothing short of
artistry. I loved being backstage at LUSH where all the drag queens get
ready! There were gowns and sequins everywhere and I felt like part of
something magical. I decided I would only answer to the name Genevee
Ramona Love. I was wearing a ridiculously tight Coca-Cola T-shirt so I
could do jokes about Kylie Jenner and Pepsi, but I think I forgot them.<br />
<br />
Sarah
McPeck, the host and organizer, had said if I had friends come that she
could get them in VIP seating, but I had no friends in attendance.
Which was <i>fine,</i> because Sunday night at 7 is a hard draw for
people, and I'd rather they come in June when I'm the headliner. But I
didn't tell Sarah this, so she gave me an intro expecting the crowd of
35 lesbians to know who the hell who I was.<br />
<br />
"Okay," she cheered. "Who here is on Team Jakey?"<br />
<br />
<br />
CRICKETS. LOUD DEAFENING SILENCE. Team Jakey is no longer. The squad is dead.<br />
<br />
She
regrouped quickly. "OK, let me explain him to you. When I say aging,
you say twink. Aging TWINK! Aging TWINK! When I say gummy, you say
BEARS! Gummy BEARS! Gummy BEARS!"<br />
<br />
It was an adequate
intro, and I did okay. I talked too fast but the lesbians liked me after
all. I did jokes about Venus retrograde and break-ups and how The
Saloon is gay high school.<br />
<br />
I enjoyed the rest of the
show, especially Jodie Maruska (hilarious!) and the headliner, Jason
Schommer, who handled a last-minute heckler very well. He had a
throwaway comment about how he probably ate his twin in the womb (this
is a thing that happens), and a drunk lady in the back room was
inexplicably VERY offended.<br />
<br />
I hobknobbed with the
other comics and said hello to LUSH management, who always treat their
talent very well. Then I decided to Uber to Saloon so I could get there
before 10 and beat cover (look at me being all frugal!).<br />
<br />
It
was one of those cruel April days that starts warm and gets super cold,
and by the time I got to The Saloon, I was shivering like a leaf. Tofu
was outside and I said hello before walking in. It's always kind of
awkward during that 9:50-10:00 time at The Saloon. Nobody wants to get a
drink because all their cheap asses are waiting for 2-for-1's to start
at 10. The disco bar and the fire bar aren't open yet. No one wants to
admit they are waiting until 10 because then you look like a cheap
alcoholic.<br />
<br />
Minneapolis is gay high school, right? I
mean, I should have graduated by now. I'm like the super senior who
already graduated but keeps showing up. It's like, <i>Dude. Move on. </i>Anyway,
my mentality is still there, because I was fresh off my high of
performing and expressing myself, and literally the first person I saw
there was the one that, when I saw him in person or social media, I was allowing to make me feel like absolute deep fried
shit (and this was never his intent, either -- it was all in my head). He was there with his
new posse of five tall, strapping, educated dudes with well-groomed
facial hair and nice shoes, and his back was to me. I had a moment to
act viscerally. Choose Your Own Gay Adventure. Do I:<br />
<br />
<i> </i><br />
A) Walk by like an adult, smile hello, continue walking<br />
B) Really lay it on thick and say hello with a big fake smile and hug him and all his new friends<br />
C) Walk by casually -- if he says hello, acknowledge it<br />
D) Run by them, yell <i>Fuck you, I'm 5-foot-7</i> and/or recite the dialogue from <i>Mean Girls</i>
in which Janis Ian discovers that Cady Herron lied to her about going
to Madison and really threw a party for all the popular kids<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/aseG7TIElGI/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/aseG7TIElGI?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<i> </i><br />
<br />
I instead did my own entry, which was<br />
<br />
E) Walk across
to the other side of the bar and SPRINT out of the room toward Danny's
bar in the back and then they won't see you, and by the time it is 10,
you can relax<br />
<br />
Perfect! I had this all planned out!<br />
<br />
And
as I was sprinting, Tim, the bar manager, stopped me like a hall
monitor in high school. "Jakey Emmert," he said sternly with his arms pushed down on my shoulders. "Stop running. We have
drinks all night."<br />
<br />
Oh, great. Now <i>everyone</i> could see me getting scolded, and this certainly wasn't helping me fight my reputation as a drunk mess/dumpster fire.<br />
<br />
"I have to pee," I lied, and ran to the bathroom anyway. I could always make myself go.<br />
<br />
Knowing
that I screwed the pooch and it was 9:58, I cut my losses and ordered a
shot of tequila from Danny. I stood by Liam. They all begin to enter Danny's bar. <i>Oh, God.</i><br />
<br />
"Have you seen ____?" said one of his friends who saddles up next to me. He has an indiscernible foreign accent and big arms and is nipping out of his t-shirts four out of five times.<br />
"No," I said. Did they not know my current pariah status? I am yesterday's news. I did not have awesome shooters and listen to awesome music and soak up everyone's awesomeness.<br />
<br />
<span class="_5yl5">He stood next to me. "Hi,
Jakey," he said in a voice that sounded terrified. I avoided eye
contact but sized up his impeccable Ted Baker ensemble. "Thisiscute," I
said speedily and side-hugged him like a Duggar sibling.
"Iloveyougoodtoseeyou." Maybe this was his attempted moment of reconciliation. And still, I ran away to the fire bar, because
running away is the only thing I know how to do anymore. What was I so
afraid of?</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/dyihQtBes1I/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/dyihQtBes1I?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<span class="_5yl5"><br /></span>
<span class="_5yl5">***</span><br />
<span class="_5yl5"><br /></span>
<span class="_5yl5">I
didn't work until 2 the next day, but I had a doctor's appointment in
Blaine at noon. It was to refill my ADHD medication. I weighed in at 113
pounds, like every 30-year-old man you know.</span><br />
<span class="_5yl5"><br />"How's your appetite?" he asked.</span><br />
<span class="_5yl5">"Good," I lied.</span><br />
<span class="_5yl5">"Are you sleeping okay?"</span><br />
<span class="_5yl5">"Yes," I lied.</span><br />
<span class="_5yl5"><br /></span>
<span class="_5yl5">I got a 3-month refill. I'm on, like, half a milligram. It's fine.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="_5yl5">Since
my Grandma Shirley lives in Blaine, I decided to stop at her house! She
tried to feed me enough food to feed an entire village, or at least my
cousin.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX4r6CJeUD30eDATWFHJpxNTP5NUD3_92Fx7RUgMe6GrbhdnRQQt8v7-HAjRUIsMJQCtOWYiEIISyTfTIigMD524x_q7_VgmfRP2pXw5NnVxG4HZ0hwq1TN_-1cKOynkNUdNO9ChjfCwEN/s1600/grandmashirley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX4r6CJeUD30eDATWFHJpxNTP5NUD3_92Fx7RUgMe6GrbhdnRQQt8v7-HAjRUIsMJQCtOWYiEIISyTfTIigMD524x_q7_VgmfRP2pXw5NnVxG4HZ0hwq1TN_-1cKOynkNUdNO9ChjfCwEN/s400/grandmashirley.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<span class="_5yl5">"Your grandpa is not here," she lamented. "He would love to see you. But he's in his ROMEO club."</span><br />
<span class="_5yl5">"What's that?" I asked.</span><br />
<span class="_5yl5">"Retired
Old Men Eating Out," she explained. "On Mondays they go to McDonald's.
Wednesdays is Wendy's. Fridays they do Culver's, but your grandfather
doesn't participate on Fridays. I don't think he cares for the Culver's
cuisine."</span><br />
<span class="_5yl5">How can anyone
not love Culver's? I was ready to demand a blood test. Then Grandma
Shirley ranted about Donald Trump and I began to believe my own heritage
again. I started going off on astrology.</span><br />
<span class="_5yl5"><br />"Is that your new religion?" she asked.</span><br />
<span class="_5yl5">"I
don't know," I said. "<a href="http://jakeyon.blogspot.com/2015/05/loring-park-adjacent-episode-1-and-rest.html" target="_blank">Last time I had a departure in my life I got really Jesus-y because I needed something to explain it all. Now it's this."</a></span><br />
<span class="_5yl5">"You should go back to Jesus," she said. "You sure you don't want more ham?" She is a Capricorn.</span><br />
<span class="_5yl5"><br /></span>
<span class="_5yl5">***</span><br />
<br />
<span class="_5yl5">Steve
came back the next day where we went to my mother's and then Nico's, where I still think the
food is too spicy but it's important that I try new things. We discussed
hills of San Francisco and <i>13 Reasons Why.</i> I complained about being lonely. There's the ___ thing, Jared is often busy, and I hadn't seen Reid in forever.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="_5yl5">"Have you tried texting Reid?" Steve asked.</span><br />
<span class="_5yl5">"No," I said.</span><br />
<span class="_5yl5">"Have you tried inviting Reid to anything?" Steve asked.</span><br />
<span class="_5yl5">"No," I said.</span><br />
<span class="_5yl5">"Well, there you go," Steve said. "I wonder if I'd be good at teaching high school."</span><br />
<span class="_5yl5">"I'm sure I am good practice," I said. "I'm the same emotional level as a 15-year-old girl." </span><br />
<span class="_5yl5"><br /></span>
<span class="_5yl5">I
insisted on going to the 19 because heaven forbid I stay in one place
or have less than one drink. It was uneventful and there is no such
thing as FOMO on a Tuesday night. "You're being very extra right now,"
he said when I made one too many jokes in the Uber. "Take it down about
three notches." I missed him more than I thought I would.</span><br />
<span class="_5yl5"><br /></span>
<span class="_5yl5">***</span><br />
<span class="_5yl5"><br /></span>
<span class="_5yl5">We went to the <i>RuPaul's Drag Race </i>viewing
party at The Saloon, but there were no seats for us even though I had
requested them. Steve was fine standing at the bar but I kept getting
bumped into and I wasn't a happy camper. We left right away. I camped at
my parents' house that weekend, because the next day was to be my
mother's surprise birthday party!</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicPWd667UmER1Ft9Tbjxe6YAzaIJE84Bx1djyKGvrAqZAewD3HB6NT2q0VMsMCNDs20FUj-NQ3a-EghNOpsoRYfBqlxSBzmxgceCJ9vhyphenhyphenrqHndksf2ySYobnoOITcG-ohd3JUOjtiI6djy/s1600/surprisesue.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicPWd667UmER1Ft9Tbjxe6YAzaIJE84Bx1djyKGvrAqZAewD3HB6NT2q0VMsMCNDs20FUj-NQ3a-EghNOpsoRYfBqlxSBzmxgceCJ9vhyphenhyphenrqHndksf2ySYobnoOITcG-ohd3JUOjtiI6djy/s400/surprisesue.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I knew about it forever and didn't ruin it! I almost did the prior Tuesday when Steve and I went to watch <i>RuPaul's Drag Race</i>
on DVR and she was lamenting that she didn't have major plans for her
birthday. Her birthday is April 16th and my father is an accountant, so
usually he's crazy busy during that time of year and she works on her
birthday because it pays double. This year she decided to treat herself
and take the weekend off. My aunt Jennifer planned a surprise party at
Big Louie's to coincide with bingo. I worked until 7 that day and
planned to arrive right after work.<br />
<br />
I'm sad that I missed the actual moment of "SURPRISE!", but I think they got the job done:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuX2pZj4fjKCorzPY6ICWDrUDUKzq8nZHqNVRQdLW2fo4E1HK8wdPV9kj_NzXFFwSQpGqDyxCDKg0pIudQ65o527pEkDpRq9C18lCqkvgi6VnZC1zWUN3NIrUA2mqHDcIvPJ9ivyc0nmPL/s1600/lorettasurprise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuX2pZj4fjKCorzPY6ICWDrUDUKzq8nZHqNVRQdLW2fo4E1HK8wdPV9kj_NzXFFwSQpGqDyxCDKg0pIudQ65o527pEkDpRq9C18lCqkvgi6VnZC1zWUN3NIrUA2mqHDcIvPJ9ivyc0nmPL/s320/lorettasurprise.jpg" width="176" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I sat with Jen, my uncle Ander, and aunt Megan. Megan was the only
person who won bingo all night, but this was justice as she was last the
night of our Oscar pool (but she rallied at the end!). Grandma Shirley
wanted a picture and I was feeling melancholy and declined, as if I was
some diva or all-star celebrity. I regret that I couldn't stay in the
moment.<br />
<br />
Jen announced that they had done genetic testing
on my mom's side of the family and the results were surprising. My
mother had always maintained that her family got here because of an
Irish stowaway, but that we were hardly Irish (<a href="http://jakeyon.blogspot.com/2013/04/loring-park-episode-26-luck-of-10-irish.html" target="_blank">she told me I was always 10%</a>), but it turns out that we're <i>way</i> more Irish than we thought
and less Scandinavian than we thought. This explains my temper, high
alcohol tolerance, fair skin, and stealth ginger status. We also found
out that my mother's side of the family is! 1% African. Whatttttt????<br />
<br />
My brother showed up at the very end, my mom's friends thought I was a snob, and I left to go watch <i>Saturday Night Live.</i> Plus, the next morning I had bought four tickets for the all-ages Easter drag show at LUSH!<br />
<br />
The
plan was for me to pick up Steve and Reid and meet my mother there. I
texted Steve and he wrote something like "whatever i'll just drive
myself". He seemed pissed and I couldn't figure it out. I stopped by the
house anyway since we live just a few blocks from Reid.<br />
<br />
"I'm
here already," he said when I called, and he hung up. Hmmmmmm. I picked
up Reid only 15 minutes after my original ETA and began to worry out
loud.<br />
<br />
"It probably has nothing to do with you," Reid said. "Maybe he's just tired."<br />
"Yeah,"
I surmised. "Or maybe he got invited to some super sexy gay Easter
brunch party with god knows who and he can't go because we have tickets
to this thing instead and I'm killing his vibe, and I'm like, <i>Dude, go to gay brunch if you want to, it's fine."</i><br />
"Okay, that's <i>still</i> making it about you," Reid said. "But ... better."<br />
<i> </i><br />
Reid
explained his social absence had to due with the Venus retrograde. "I
just had to wait for it all to be over," he said. I enjoy that Reid
shares my curiosity of astrology. He is a Taurus sun/Aqua moon/Taurus
rising.<br />
<br />
Anyway, we arrived at LUSH and Steve was in perfectly fine spirits, especially when he found out we had VIP seating right next to the stage. I had foolishly taken my meds that morning so I just stared at my food for the first half. I had never been to an all ages show before, and it was so fun!! The numbers were still very entertaining. Some of the kids loved the drag queens. Some were scared of them. One little boy in particular would always give the queens a dollar and then take it back. I was in absolute awe. We've become kind of drag queen groupies lately, and I love it. I also thought how that has to make you so much better as a performer -- to do a bawdy show on Saturday night, and then think of three numbers the next morning that will entertain both adults <i>and</i> their kids. LUSH typically does their all-ages brunch on the last Sunday of the month (adding them on holidays), and the Gay '90s has long hosted them on the first Sunday of the month. I think it's an absolutely genius idea.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="instagram-media" data-instgrm-captioned="" data-instgrm-version="7" style="background: #FFF; border-radius: 3px; border: 0; box-shadow: 0 0 1px 0 rgba(0,0,0,0.5),0 1px 10px 0 rgba(0,0,0,0.15); margin: 1px; max-width: 658px; padding: 0; width: -webkit-calc(100% - 2px); width: 99.375%; width: calc(100% - 2px);">
<div style="padding: 8px;">
<div style="background: #F8F8F8; line-height: 0; margin-top: 40px; padding: 50.0% 0; text-align: center; width: 100%;">
<div style="background: url(data:image/png; display: block; height: 44px; margin: 0 auto -44px; position: relative; top: -22px; width: 44px;">
</div>
</div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0 0 0; padding: 0 4px;">
<a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BS9YRK2jMe3/" style="color: black; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 17px; text-decoration: none; word-wrap: break-word;" target="_blank">Thank you so much for the talented cast at @lushfoodbar this afternoon for their all ages show! It was so great to celebrate my mama's 60th and see queens I've known forever and queens I was seeing for the first time. The last queen, Victoria DeVille, sang "True Colors" live and it was a beautiful experience. Not a lot of moms would want to celebrate their birthday with their son and two of his friends at a drag show (and I thank them so much for helping celebrate, too!). I could use a hair transplant, financial acumen, and major domestic skills but some days I still feel like I won the lottery.</a></div>
<div style="color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 8px; overflow: hidden; padding: 8px 0 7px; text-align: center; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap;">
A post shared by Jakey Emmert (@jakeyemmert) on <time datetime="2017-04-16T20:07:04+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Apr 16, 2017 at 1:07pm PDT</time></div>
</div>
</blockquote>
<br />
<script async="" defer="" src="//platform.instagram.com/en_US/embeds.js"></script><br />
<br />
My freshman year of college, I was in a play called "<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cloud_9_%28play%29" target="_blank">Cloud 9"</a>. It was highly sexual and queer and maybe now, if I were 19, I wouldn't have been brave enough to do it. The entire audience consisted of students taking Intro to Theater who were forced to see it. I remember castmates lamenting this, but I loved the challenge; take an audience that doesn't really want to be there and make them be captive for two hours. I think we got the job done, and it gave me status during my two years in a place that was kind of homophobic and behind the times (one must remember that this was Bush-era small-town Wisconsin and we have come a long way). There was a part in the show when the cast breaks into the song "A Boy's Best Friend is His Mother". The director kept debating if we would include it or not; it was kind of kitschy, broadly goofy in a way the rest of the show wasn't, but in the end he chose to keep it:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPMMp2zpHsKo6tuvftR97HFVjRs1hyphenhyphenDZx26S-l20Cr-tJAVdjVOz4LGeKxJimm_Jsp_EtcSh81L9Oc7NTgZO37Eyor4SCCZ8SjbVeRWMaA9_2EvS2Ns5wfkoesZDkrZ6KDb9xicdKqmF2I/s1600/bestfriendishismother.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPMMp2zpHsKo6tuvftR97HFVjRs1hyphenhyphenDZx26S-l20Cr-tJAVdjVOz4LGeKxJimm_Jsp_EtcSh81L9Oc7NTgZO37Eyor4SCCZ8SjbVeRWMaA9_2EvS2Ns5wfkoesZDkrZ6KDb9xicdKqmF2I/s400/bestfriendishismother.jpg" width="192" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Steve and I went back with our retrospective families, and Reid went to prepare for the Sexy Jesus contest at The Saloon. We didn't know that the contest was starting early, so by the time we got to The Saloon, the contest was ever! Reid was upset and then I bought him a shot of tequila. It might not have been improved his mood, but it improved mine.<br />
<br />
****<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhobuc8cH7wkxTuke4-Ehkxkm9Nbxk2ACQWLmIYqnK8gRI_IBpcF8zdguQWZDIHgUTSUFQhZl_wwx7Zr2lysHbPIJONK46pxU7PeHcZILxXloCdgVXak0VbUN6VwDAEDDbiYQ6sYGto0Xz6/s1600/newyork.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhobuc8cH7wkxTuke4-Ehkxkm9Nbxk2ACQWLmIYqnK8gRI_IBpcF8zdguQWZDIHgUTSUFQhZl_wwx7Zr2lysHbPIJONK46pxU7PeHcZILxXloCdgVXak0VbUN6VwDAEDDbiYQ6sYGto0Xz6/s400/newyork.gif" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mood</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I had to gird my loins for another weekend by myself. Steve was going on another trip, and this time I knew I was going to feel some kind of way about it. It wasn't his fault.<br />
<br />
<i>He doesn't like how negative you're being,</i> he told me on the rooftop of Union in January. The chatter among us was loud and he wasn't enunciating, so I asked "What?" about three times. By the fourth time he was unintentionally shouting it at me.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrDhWcWkhkttlrat3sOkv7p7HhaDaNO-TQg6V1lDYZfraZVZt1Vcjjpp7lH7g-s4BaTmIODEjCa0i3BrOyDplpja91ESZBbMZwY25s1xBuHWlTBllxxDXaVFc7B4qpP1fJuj7n2-XGQ_3T/s1600/waitwhat.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrDhWcWkhkttlrat3sOkv7p7HhaDaNO-TQg6V1lDYZfraZVZt1Vcjjpp7lH7g-s4BaTmIODEjCa0i3BrOyDplpja91ESZBbMZwY25s1xBuHWlTBllxxDXaVFc7B4qpP1fJuj7n2-XGQ_3T/s400/waitwhat.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>HE DOESN'T LIKE HOW NEGATIVE YOU'RE BEING. Don't get mad, but we're going to Seattle in the spring.</i><br />
<br />
Maybe that was the beginning of the end. No, that's not fair. That had already happened and we were all in denial. This was, I don't know, another part of the rising action before the climax. <i>You feel this way and I have to hear about it this way? </i>I suppose there is no handbook when your best friend goes off the deep end, when he is in the hospital on Sunday and is back at the bar the next Sunday like nothing happened. There is no handbook when your best friend tells everyone he's done but you're the last one to know about it. There probably <i>is</i> a handbook for someone both self-loathing and narcissistic who needs to face the realization that not everything has to be about him.<br />
<i> </i><br />
<i>****</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Pre-<i>Loring Park,</i> pre-everything, <a href="http://jakeyon.blogspot.com/2014/12/the-two-jakes.html" target="_blank">I had an Internet affair with a dude allegedly from Seattle</a>. I thought it was my first heartbreak but it really wasn't. Still, it took me a while to not flinch at the numbers "206" or to get through an episode of <i>Frasier.</i><br />
<br />
<i>***</i><br />
<br />
He reached out to me that Wednesday. It was beautiful, lyrical, heartfelt, vulnerable, real. It took me three hours to read it. First I turned my phone off at work and then I walked to the 19 and then I had a vodka soda on the patio and rolled my eyes at people who were loud and turned up <i>on a Wednesday.</i> When I wrote back at first I was combative and deleted it, and then I was sappy and deleted it, and then I wrote something that was defensive, terse, dismissive even.<br />
<i> </i><br />
"You should have made an appointment with me that day," my therapist later said. "We could have written a response together.<br />
<br />
What do you really want to <i>say?"</i><br />
<br />
Three months later, I still don't know.<i> </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<i>***</i><br />
<br />
Reid and I wanted to go to straight bars that Friday but went to Jetset, which is, like, <i>the opposite.</i> I stopped at a going-away party for a friend moving to Atlanta. Reid ran into an ex and got emotional. I Uber'd to his apartment from The Saloon. I could have just gone home, like a normal person, but NO, I Uber'd back to the 19, back to The Saloon, then back home. I missed absolutely nothing. Why can't I ever stay home or be happy by myself?<br />
<br />
<i> </i>I went to bingo the next day and sat by my friend Nathaniel (who I watched WrestleMania with!), Harrie Bradshaw, and others. I didn't win a single game but I had fun! Brexit was there and I responded by hitting Harrie every time he walked out of the bathroom. I am so mature, I know. Harrie was getting ready for a burlesque show that night, and I was getting ready for a hosting gig at New Hope Cinema Grill. The money was far from great, but I felt a sense of pride that I was getting work and that I had some sense of purpose over the weekend other than getting drunk and feeling bad for myself.<br />
<br />
There were only 15 people in the audience, but they were <i>fun!</i> Plus, it's always nice to see Colleen Doyle Justice, who I really got to know when I filmed <i>Distilled</i> last year. I got lost on the way home so I chose to eschew my original plans, which was to stop at the Fremont as they were doing a clothing drive. I've never been there, but my brother goes there a lot, and girls I went to college with are bartenders and I could always get in free if I said their name. Time had got ahead of me, so at midnight I decided to cut my losses and head to The Saloon.<br />
<br />
The Saloon was BUMPING!!! I don't know what was going on in town, but it was almost Pride-level packed. I was unusually overwhelmed. Lots of beautiful people were there and I was very self-conscious about my make-up. Like, I knew it looked terrible. I also knew I would have felt more self-conscious if I <i>wasn't </i>wearing make-up. You can't win for losing.<br />
<br />
I ran into a few circles of people I knew, in that "Hi, how are you" kind of way. The posse was there and I felt four feet tall. Once I escaped to the fire bar, I felt at peace. I somehow ended up saddling next to Bruce for a while, and I bought him a tequila shot.<br />
<br />
"I can't do tequila!" he cried. "I'll puke."<br />
"You should have told me!" I said. "I'll get something else."<br />
"No, I'm fine," he said. "I just need a Coke-back. I'm nervous. I want to make out with somebody."<br />
"You can't make out with someone in the fire bar," I said. "It's trashy. You make out with people on the dance floor."<br />
"I'm scared of the dance floor," Bruce whined.<br />
How can someone so tall and strapping be so whiny? "Bruce," I said. "Help me help you."<br />
Bruce pointed to a boy he liked but who allegedly only dates older men. "Oh, and that guy is older but I think he's really cute. I'm not really into older, though."<br />
"How old?" I asked, and then he was pointing at Quinn, who was looking very handsome in a light-blue button-down. I responded like a mature adult, by which I mean I bursted out laughing.<br />
"What?" Bruce asked.<br />
"Come here," I said, and I grabbed him by the hand like we were middle school girls. Because he is tall, he used my shoulder as an arm rest.<br />
<br />
I was going to tell him everything, and then I realized ... it didn't fucking matter. None of this matters.<br />
"He's nice," I said. "But <i>older?</i> Fuck you. He's 26."<br />
"Oh," said Bruce. "Yeah, I forgot ..."<br />
"It's okay," I said.<br />
"You don't look it," Bruce said. He has a nice smile. <br />
I would have made out with him because the tequila kicked in and Debby had arrived but a) he would have probably refused b) we were in the fire bar and I would have been breaking my own rules c) HE WAS BORN IN 1996 WHICH IS AFTER "BATMAN FOREVER" CAME OUT I CAN'T I PROBABLY LOOK LIKE HIS DAD<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/AMD2TwRvuoU/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/AMD2TwRvuoU?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
I tried to set him up with the younger boy he liked but he kept standing next to <i>me</i> instead of the boy and I wrote him off as a lost cause. This led to my friend Doug trying to set me up with people and it never works because Doug is too loud and brash. He will literally shove me toward the hottest guy in the room and say "This is Jakey, have sex with him!"<br />
<br />
"Doug, I am not doing this," I said as he pushed me toward a cute boy in a broski University of Minnesota tee.<br />
"Aww, it's Jakey," smiled the cute boy. "Don't act like you don't know me. I've met you, like, four times." What???? Why don't I remember any of this???<br />
"Just be cool," I told Doug. "I can't have sex anyway. It's broken back there."<br />
"Jakey, you should be a top!" cried Doug.<br />
"I'm 115 pounds!" I cried.<br />
"Then find someone who is 105 pounds!" Doug suggested. Maybe, but this was a Saturday and 18+ is Thursdays and Sundays.<br />
<br />
I went to the dance floor for the first time in what felt like a year. I was treading in the hoe waters! I was even in the middle, dancing with attractive men, as if I belonged.<br />
<br />
And I went home alone because I wanted to, and I stared at the ceiling until 7 A.M.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
The next Sunday I had to work, and I found it to be merciful. No brunching, no day drinking, and my mind would be off of shit. That night, Carla and her friend Shannon came over. Shannon is a tattoo artist and I think she is sexy af. We pre-gamed and then drove to The Saloon. It wasn't super crowded but I was super happy to run into Lee. I always feel better about Debby showing up if Ruth is there. Then Woody showed up! I hadn't seen him since my birthday and I forgot how attractive he was in person. Because I am an adult, I had to leave the room and giggle with Carla about it, and then I was back into adult mode. He had been drinking all day and got a tattoo at some point in the afternoon. Shannon berated him for not taking proper care of it. I have no tattoos!<br />
<br />
We talked about the weather a lot. Woody had been in Germany for work and hated how gloomy it was. I thought about how hard it would be to travel so much for work, regardless of how glamorous or exciting a job looks like from the outside. #deepthots <br />
<br />
It was overall a good Sunday. Some of the "kids" were there, I felt relaxed, Carla was in good spirits because she was with a nice person as her platonic date and not a trashbox, life was good ...<br />
<br />
...Hell froze over and I invited a boy over later that night. I forgot how to do anything.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSkkJ9-7ttiYf-uilcoFkD9vqmmV7YFGDXx7bAnAkQfuNHTLHFi5gAPj_5uheGiZD_QUdmRE-XpbTlkhiM3hbpLsFdThYm0CDseP8lHd09O4lh5DhXRW3zyZLwdl_SDG8VxYIYxdtxkMYy/s1600/mouthnotbutthole.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSkkJ9-7ttiYf-uilcoFkD9vqmmV7YFGDXx7bAnAkQfuNHTLHFi5gAPj_5uheGiZD_QUdmRE-XpbTlkhiM3hbpLsFdThYm0CDseP8lHd09O4lh5DhXRW3zyZLwdl_SDG8VxYIYxdtxkMYy/s400/mouthnotbutthole.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
YES, I HAD A 69 DURING EPISODE 69, GROW UP. He was ridiculously out of my league from a physical standpoint and I spent the next day wondering if I should send a thank you card or a cake. Why am I so sexually frigid? My friends do this all the time. I spent all of my twenties pining over confused idiots and maybe it was okay for me to have a roll in the hay that didn't mean anything. So what if he had six-pack abs and I am built like Grandma Ethel? We didn't have the lights on.<br />
<br />
I really wanted to go to bingo the next Wednesday because the '90s was at 60 for coverall (and Muscle Chris was bartending!), but <a href="https://twitter.com/gracethomaslive" target="_blank">Grace Thomas</a> asked me to do her show on Wednesday and I couldn't say no for a multitude of reasons. One is that I will get nowhere in my career if I am turning down shows for bingo. Two is I got drunk once and DM'd Grace about an issue I had made up in my head and was really stupid, and I was worried I had forever stepped in it with her when I greatly admire her. And third is, the show was super fun! OK, so it's every <a href="https://www.facebook.com/newcomicbookdaymn/" target="_blank">Wednesday at New Block</a>, and they talk about the new comic books that came out that day and then some people do stand-up. It's an incredible concept of combining two passions into one show, and I was very impressed. This is like if I did a weekly show based on Mariah Carey ballads or wrestling divas of the late '90s-2006 period. Sean and Allen showed up, and I thanked them for being "my gays" as I talked about Ariana Grande. It turns out a girl in the front row was in "Cloud 9" with me, all those years ago! What a small world! It was a full-circle moment, and I was happy to learn that she is writing an installment of <i>Cheryl Blossom</i> that comes out later this year, in which Cheryl channels her anger through roller derby.<br />
<br />
I felt bad because she wanted to stay and talk but I was trying to head to the '90s so I could play the last game of bingo.<br />
<br />
"Last time I saw you was super random and you were on your way to Treasure Island," she said. Oh my god. This girl must think I am the biggest gambling addict.<br />
<br />
A very well-dressed young man walked by us outside. "By the way, I'm gay, and I *don't* like Ariana GRAND," he said. And yes, that's how he said it. And yes, I coveted his red leather jacket. And yes, I would awkwardly run into him again a few weeks later, because that is how the world works.<br />
<br />
I booked it to the '90s where I was eligible to play Game 9. I didn't win. The $1,000 coverall went. We are at a bingo drought! The Eagle is also low and I don't go to the Townhouse during <i>RuPaul</i> season. At least we'll have LUSH and I'm off most Saturdays.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/23e702UuOFg/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/23e702UuOFg?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>Next week: An impossibly attractive visitor! Reid's birthday! And the finale?????</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />jakeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05687321925107280139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757619093854217193.post-3155874369458922572017-03-27T18:09:00.000-07:002020-07-30T12:12:34.695-07:00Loring Park Episode #68: After Winter Must Come SpringHello, children! I know. It's been a while. We'll talk about why in a little bit.<br />
<br />
There is no <i>Previously on Loring Park </i>for Episode #68. I took Episode #67 down for a while. I'll put it back up eventually -- it's an important part of our story -- but that chapter, when shit really hit the fan and got dark, doesn't need to be out there at this moment. I also understand that there's no takesies-backsies in real life, but at this point it is important for me to be present and look forward instead of the other way.<br />
<br />
Now we're gonna listen to Lauryn Hill and see if I even remember anything from the last two and a half months.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/ns7rMRA6VTA/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ns7rMRA6VTA?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
February started with stand-up! I did two shows at Ric McCloud's Comedy Cabaret, which is in the basement of a tavern in Arden Hills. I house-sat for my parents' that weekend, although the gag is that I stay there all the time anyway and I wasn't even attempting any kind of responsibility. This meant I had to miss Jared's birthday party, but I had to open the day after it anyway and nobody could have switched to me. Of course I had fomo*, but I had to get my coins! The crowds were a lot of fun and I had great conversation with the real Ric McCloud after the show was over.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj5bnuxtcuCh7IBRxqiBsGojH5o1EjZZLQdKaf48FjGGwJMS8R4V4WalFbeNB2a-Ixn_LFO5ZX2ZWWHJk1AI_tv21TEIw71iWdFF1vOjjI2TRfRHanKFaZmXox63onTP4JOi-yfcNSS5dQ/s1600/andyerickson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj5bnuxtcuCh7IBRxqiBsGojH5o1EjZZLQdKaf48FjGGwJMS8R4V4WalFbeNB2a-Ixn_LFO5ZX2ZWWHJk1AI_tv21TEIw71iWdFF1vOjjI2TRfRHanKFaZmXox63onTP4JOi-yfcNSS5dQ/s320/andyerickson.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Speaking of comedians, my mom and I went to Andy Erickson's birthday party at Sky Deck! How fitting that I look horrendous in a picture with a star of <i>Scream Queens.</i> We sat by a family who she met through her work educating the world about Marfan Syndrome, and they were incredibly kind. The mom's name was Ruth and that killed me because when I go out, I am Debby and my friend Lee is Ruth. After twenty minutes of discussing Kellyanne Conway and Sean Spicer, she begged the table to stop discussing politics. I was fine with this because I had spent a week fielding calls from angry Trump supporters at work (no guessing my day job, y'all). I also made an ass of myself when I introduced someone to my mom as "______'s wife, _______." "You can just say I'm ______," she said. "You don't need to introduce me as _____'s wife." It was a good lesson. Sometimes I think because I'm a gay man that means that I am automatically going to be woke as hell about everything, and I'm really kind of a social dunce.<br />
<br />
On the way back to the car, my mom and I ran into Paul Ryan, who has some kind of a corporate job at the mall right now.<br />
<br />
"Hello, Jakey," he grinned.<br />
"Hi," I said. "We were just at Smash."<br />
"This is Smash," he said.<br />
"I meant Sky Deck," I said. I was all flustered!<br />
"He's such a charmer," my mother said when we walked away.<br />
"That he is," I said, and pretended to flip my hair even though I don't have any. Damn you, Paul Ryan and for how good you look in a Hugo Boss suit!<br />
<br />
<br />
I wasn't stressed out about being single on Valentine's Day because I had a big gig that weekend.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD_BEUUiDAzOlSg-2x0s8T4Ik0OIcXVxYLhBlMK5IjUV9aMf9QFizMtL_E2bj00LBFLzTc2XEImAoG9e6iTEZ6W4ZgOo2RCiv4z-lTteQUWLqNVyQ4e6rKq-0uW55wm8kdunpVIepwV-af/s1600/runningaces.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD_BEUUiDAzOlSg-2x0s8T4Ik0OIcXVxYLhBlMK5IjUV9aMf9QFizMtL_E2bj00LBFLzTc2XEImAoG9e6iTEZ6W4ZgOo2RCiv4z-lTteQUWLqNVyQ4e6rKq-0uW55wm8kdunpVIepwV-af/s320/runningaces.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
The show at Running Aces was sold out, and I was nervous as hell. The contract said I had to do a "clean-ish set." What did that mean? The crowd was predominantly Caucasian heterosexual couples in their forties. Not exactly my demo, but what can you do? Also, when you're the emcee you're the first person up, so it's up to you to figure out what kind of crowd they're going to be. I debated if I was going to do a joke I've done for years that's kinda dirty. Would it take away from being "clean-ish?" Will they like it? What if they hate me? I debated for twenty minutes and was full of anxiety.<br />
<br />
I did the joke**. It took them a while to get. Most of them laughed and one guy yelled "Gross." My job was done. Sherlonda Sharp was the feature and John Bush was the headliner and they were <i>great</i>. John was super nice and asked for my contact info and I left before giving it to him because I am a dumb shit. It was an incredibly professional atmosphere and I loved it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<br />
I still went out way too much. On a Sunday night, I ran into Paul Ryan and he spent the entire time trying to get me to get him a twink's phone number. Rude!<br />
<br />
"Oh, Jakey," he said. "You're still the only woman for me."<br />
"Thanks, Paul," I said.<br />
"But seriously. Get his number."<br />
<br />
Paul invited me to go home with him and cuddle, but I was too annoyed to take him up on his offer. I didn't want to be in his arms while he talked about how much he wanted to bang this twink the whole time. I will always wonder what would have happened if I had left at 12:30 that night.<br />
<br />
Ugh.<br />
<br />
Okay.<br />
<br />
We're gonna talk about this as quickly as we can, and I'm gonna try not to get super specific. If it seems like I'm leaving a lot of stuff out, it's because, um, I am. I want to say right now that I have to take full responsibility for my own destructive behavior, and that no one owes me anything.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Hs74S5nOY9xSAgNTD7WFCRyAnWXRjujX4pQ9UqbPb7oOGbusSo2_kAQeADL3DU6TNslG0je754XbFiQ1G3cefENAysnRx2-UZ-kl68iPLsudbpYmWzxQYh7Q7-Rg6YFkbTbbj8VRzNag/s1600/borderlineobsessive.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Hs74S5nOY9xSAgNTD7WFCRyAnWXRjujX4pQ9UqbPb7oOGbusSo2_kAQeADL3DU6TNslG0je754XbFiQ1G3cefENAysnRx2-UZ-kl68iPLsudbpYmWzxQYh7Q7-Rg6YFkbTbbj8VRzNag/s320/borderlineobsessive.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
My best friend and I had been kind of distant lately and there had been a lot of triangle communication going on where I wasn't sure where we stood with each other and he showed up at 1 A.M. and, short story long, we <i>got into it. </i>AND I STARTED IT, so by no means am I the victim in this situation. On the contrary, really. But things blew up, he let me have it, and I did not realize how (rightfully!) angry he was.<br />
<br />
"You're not hearing me," was the last thing he said, and I felt my eyes glaze over. I <i>was</i> hearing him, I was just too much of an intoxicated chicken shit to admit that I didn't want to because it wasn't in my favor. I wanted everything to go back to normal, but we're not kids anymore, and how I had been acting was <i>not normal.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu0W1NIYyK_W2mwu2gGT2DAgO612BHKUhS2NSVxn-hQ1egNByM5GVTEOtjw-vTbGQUSCqzMt0y69m4XnS5PQZvoN-RPG_jA6BtZP1awWRD6fU5zJgH6fWhvzFqAxu0oJ7p_nrzujhhg7FU/s1600/behaviorisindefensible.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu0W1NIYyK_W2mwu2gGT2DAgO612BHKUhS2NSVxn-hQ1egNByM5GVTEOtjw-vTbGQUSCqzMt0y69m4XnS5PQZvoN-RPG_jA6BtZP1awWRD6fU5zJgH6fWhvzFqAxu0oJ7p_nrzujhhg7FU/s320/behaviorisindefensible.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<i><br /></i>
<br />
I perceived it as an abrupt ending to something very valuable, and I cried for a week. I would drive around on my lunch breaks so no one at work would see me (I didn't want to be THAT GIRL!). My go-to ugly cry song was "Warwick Avenue" by Duffy, because she cries in the video but she looks really pretty in it, like when Rose Byrne in <i>Bridesmaids</i> says she's a pretty crier. When I cry, I look like a dying blowfish.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/ScSHEnFNRck/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ScSHEnFNRck?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
How I wanted to look in the car:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigRANk5c1QkDZUCZztMJIfZHJFfU6yPnrbWKE1pVJn5z2pAcQej0kwfUI0NMZBkPRoy3_AVI9kDCktdR02GywTSQn8mz7lLa3dj9T2J_6IpRkMoc5xU66hIbQk7Cc_6BvN2MqujbUypq32/s1600/rosebyrne.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigRANk5c1QkDZUCZztMJIfZHJFfU6yPnrbWKE1pVJn5z2pAcQej0kwfUI0NMZBkPRoy3_AVI9kDCktdR02GywTSQn8mz7lLa3dj9T2J_6IpRkMoc5xU66hIbQk7Cc_6BvN2MqujbUypq32/s1600/rosebyrne.gif" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
How I really looked in the car:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw7XWXmFToHqE-WOdUHDR9KxIhFWIY4Mz-2Joo14RT-c7Ds7wM3u5MaGbSmM9rfB3es-unD3YoA6dvnK47G0fl1dKlcgyXZXcfqReKNXJidSp7om3vLy7STs4Q8cxqqqhghkMG9oeVh3s-/s1600/trishacrying.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw7XWXmFToHqE-WOdUHDR9KxIhFWIY4Mz-2Joo14RT-c7Ds7wM3u5MaGbSmM9rfB3es-unD3YoA6dvnK47G0fl1dKlcgyXZXcfqReKNXJidSp7om3vLy7STs4Q8cxqqqhghkMG9oeVh3s-/s320/trishacrying.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
I saw him that Saturday and rolled my eyes at him when he walked by, because that's what mature adults do when they are hurt. It was so fucking petty, to hurt him like that and act like <i>I </i>wasn't affected at all. That Sunday he went to lunch with everybody else and everyone got annoyed with me by the night's end because I was trying to insert myself in the group when my company was not wanted (and why would it be? I was a <i>LUNATIC</i>) and I was trying to make fetch happen***, and I slept over at a friend's to feel bad for myself. The next day, I asked my friend Diva what to do.<br />
<br />
"Well, you need to apologize to him," she said. "You can't swallow your pride on this. Your ego is not your amigo." Diva should write self-help books about how to improve yourself and your makeup skills at the same time.<br />
<br />
I drafted a novel of an apology but pared it down before sending it. I didn't want to make it sound like I was making excuses for anything and took out any sentence that began with "I". He responded right away. We agreed that things were over, at least for the time being, but he was very kind and lovely about it, in a way that he didn't have to be. This was a month and a week ago.<br />
<br />
It sucked.<br />
<br />
I cried for another week. For a while, I could barely get through the work day. On one lunch break I drove around Richfield and called Reid while I bawled my eyes out. My life was going to be dramatically changed and I wasn't ready. Of course, I was still focused on the stupid stuff.<br />
<br />
"What am I gonna do for Pride weekend?!" I sobbed. "I don't even want to have a birthday party!"<br />
"Well, those things are very far away from now," said Reid, in the same tone of voice mothers use when their 4-year-old is acting up. "And I'm sure you can invite a lot of other people to your birthday party ... which is not until July. It's February."<br />
"BOO HOO!!!!" I cried, and then I went on 494 in the wrong direction. They sent me home early that day.<br />
<br />
Considering that the combination of alcohol, immaturity, mental illness, and my general state of being a garbage person dumpster fire had contributed to the biggest loss of my adult life, I told myself that I would finally cut back on boozing after saying I would a month ago only for that to all be bullshit. I threw myself into planning my Oscar party. In further proof that I am self-absorbed, I forgot to buy liquor because I knew that<i> I</i> wasn't going to be drinking.<br />
<br />
"I have been sober for eight hours," I told B. Louise that Sunday at LUSH, and then I ordered a terrible cranberry mimosa. <i>Ugh.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I bought last-minute food items, picked up Greta and Steve, and hoped to finally win my Oscar pool that year! Seriously, I have done Oscar parties since I was in tenth grade and I think one year I tied with my dad and that's the only time I've won. It was my own party and I didn't even have $5 cash to contribute to the pool since I spent the last cash I had at LUSH! What is wrong with me? I hoped that I would win and no one would notice. I was worried about the show because I knew it would be very anti-Trump and I'm pretty sure my friend Julie voted for him and my Grandma Shirley is a raging DFL hardliner, but she was really chill whenever anything was said about it (and I thought Kimmel toed the line pretty well).<br />
<br />
Anyway, I lost by ONE because I chose "Audition" for Best Song over "City of Stars" even though I knew "City of Stars' would win, but I really really loved "Audition". (I was also the only present to get Best Live Action Short correctly, but Steve was the only person in the room who had actually seen all of them). I was out of it by Best Picture, but then we had to re-tally when that whole <i>Moonlight/La La Land</i> snafu happened! My dad and my friend Adam ended up splitting the pot, and now I owe my dad $2.50.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfaw0m1Z6A5UJ0VagcMdEkN-c1IehSmYuz5uTU7O8ETaYsk0XlMCTqZLeJ0e9e8WLvQGn5slKLfgbUMsq_Hvx45k9QTA76eFnVxDvMxLEp1wcKH4EWDsNqwhzJpL8wIfhizuIufQqPGplv/s1600/oscarmoodboard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfaw0m1Z6A5UJ0VagcMdEkN-c1IehSmYuz5uTU7O8ETaYsk0XlMCTqZLeJ0e9e8WLvQGn5slKLfgbUMsq_Hvx45k9QTA76eFnVxDvMxLEp1wcKH4EWDsNqwhzJpL8wIfhizuIufQqPGplv/s400/oscarmoodboard.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who are you in the Oscar moodboard? I am always Meryl.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
"Would anyone like some wine?" my mother offered.<br />
"Aww," I said.<br />
"You don't even drink wine," said Steve with annoyance.<br />
<br />
We dropped off Greta and stopped at The Saloon, and I ordered a vodka lemonade.<br />
<br />
"You got a drink," Steve said, and I wasn't sure which one of us was more disappointed.<br />
<br />
Then I really went without for 6.75 days. And I'm not saying that like it's some major accomplishment -- oh my god, you almost went a full week, <i>wow! </i>It's not like I went to AA or went to rehab -- but I didn't miss it as much as I thought I would (or maybe I missed other things more, y'know?). I even did a Sunday Funday and was on Team Diet Coke all afternoon. I was a lot quieter, sure, but that didn't need to be a bad thing. I went to The Saloon because I forgot to bring my keys to the Eagle so I had to bring Steve his (good to know that sober me is still a space cadet), and I felt bad because I knew that since I was there and it was 2-for-1's, I was going to drink, and I did, and I didn't get hammered or anything, but I felt like I was letting everybody down. Again.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqtI4wMQRqq4erbS-QIbA_tOEKK7sjzxOCA2KUswj_aYLvHqWTLHMKNsEWJTpOLkKKrQxeDq3c8Q82ENGsgNM02KpoTYGK9QSEzo7jiJx9IrIu5XbdsVcmapgcKnQq_8u8TWguI6eZAh6O/s1600/pennyann.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqtI4wMQRqq4erbS-QIbA_tOEKK7sjzxOCA2KUswj_aYLvHqWTLHMKNsEWJTpOLkKKrQxeDq3c8Q82ENGsgNM02KpoTYGK9QSEzo7jiJx9IrIu5XbdsVcmapgcKnQq_8u8TWguI6eZAh6O/s400/pennyann.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I stay at my parents' a lot more than I used to. I know it's not the most adult thing to do and my mom can't take care of me forever, but it's an ironclad way for me to not go out to the bar, and I usually open on the weekends while my roommate has the day off, and it just works for me, all right? I talk to Penny Ann a lot because we are both chronic night owls. However, she doesn't get up early for work the next day and I do.<br />
<br />
I was on Concerta for a month. My brain liked it but it turned me into a literal shit monster. I got switched to a low dose of Adderall. This means I got fucking tiny. It's gross.<br />
<br />
I love therapy! She wants to see me twice a month. She gives me homework. Last time we learned about cognitive thoughts and that our emotions, feelings, and situations are <i>all different things.</i> It's like that whole mantra that Katya and Rosie O'Donnell have always told me (well, okay, not me personally), that FEELINGS ARE NOT FACTS. Things may have been so much different had I truly believed this earlier in life.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvJdzWWaj_voARirExkPvorXoR8DNmmGe2rpTRYsSN5AqGajAJvl-074ubqXovnSUcZeqiZlzxVM183h9toMB7SkX5IM2McGHeq0twkl9PjSQSo43cGPrL5hWrH-nccczrBYxfX4R0WgZV/s1600/tanmanreunion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvJdzWWaj_voARirExkPvorXoR8DNmmGe2rpTRYsSN5AqGajAJvl-074ubqXovnSUcZeqiZlzxVM183h9toMB7SkX5IM2McGHeq0twkl9PjSQSo43cGPrL5hWrH-nccczrBYxfX4R0WgZV/s320/tanmanreunion.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Tan Man was in town for one night only! He and Rene met me at LUSH because it was a Thursday and I was staying at my mom's house. We watched the first half of Drag Evolution, which is their amateur show and the winner gets to perform on Saturdays. There were gorgeous men around them who didn't give me the time of day, but there were twinks I knew who <i>did,</i> so there. I need to find a name for who I am when I'm around the children and not drinking. Maybe that is when Auntie Debby is Aunt Deborah.<br />
<br />
After the first half of the contest, I dropped them off at The Saloon ... and I didn't go in! I went home instead to watch <i>Baskets.</i> My mother was shocked at this development. "Who are you and what have you done with my son?" she demanded to know.<br />
<br />
The theme of cancellation continued to dominate March. The Mariah Carey concert at the Xcel Energy Center went from being postponed to cancelled (I can't have nice things! The lamb I was going to attend with is seeing her in Vegas this July). I was booked to feature for a week at the House of Comedy and it turned out that the headliner brings his own feature with him on the road, so I was cut. He was incredibly kind and gracious about it and encouraged me to do a guest set (which I did that Saturday -- the first one was good and in the late show I bombed) and even offered to get me stage time if I was ever in New York. And I also think I really manifested the situation. I had convinced myself I was too sad to do eight comedy shows a week, and the universe listened and took them away from me. My goal for 2017 is to learn how to manifest things the <i>other</i> way. Every negative thing that happened over the last few months was already there in my head!<br />
<br />
The blessing of the gigs being cancelled is that -- even though I was out $300 -- Steve and I went to the Ariana Grande concert on a last minute whim! She even did "One Last Time"! I didn't know if she would but my friend Kara was reviewing the concert for <i>City Pages</i> and had seen the setlist. Ariana did not do ANY banter at all -- after every song she would say "St. Paul" as if to remind herself where she was and that was it -- but she was on time and sang live. The crowd was mainly teenage girls and 21-year-old gay men, so there was a lot of high-pitched screaming.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/drcWaTCS6bg/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/drcWaTCS6bg?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Oh my god, and she did "Moonlight" too and I jusssssssssttttttttt<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/LN3UOb3iiTE/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/LN3UOb3iiTE?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
We took the light rail to The Saloon after the show, where we ran into pretty much every gay man we had seen at the concert (when we first got there, Steve wanted to play "Gay or straight?" with strangers, but we couldn't really play because we kept running into gay guys we knew). Quinn was our navigator to get us to the train and thank <i>God,</i> because to me St. Paul may as well be Amsterdam.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/I4AtFqWfQa0/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/I4AtFqWfQa0?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
Our brushes with greatness continued into the next week when Alyssa Edwards was at The Saloon! I was nervous about the idea of Friday night viewing parties for <i>RuPaul's Drag Race </i>-- bars and patrons really loved having them on Mondays -- but The Saloon pulled it off without a hitch. Alyssa got there at 11:30 and The Saloon turned into a gay mosh pit. And it was mainly women who were being offensive! Steve and I were getting pushed around so much that I thought we would be going home in body casts. Drinks were getting thrown and people were swearing and it was incredibly stressful. Thankfully we had bigger men by us that provided a sense of safety and security, because I think Steve and I are maybe 250 pounds <i>combined.</i> Speaking of bigger men, Miles Davis Moody of the <i>RuPaul's Drag Race</i> pit crew was next to us and kept accidentally elbowing me while he made out with a stranger, and it was the closest thing I will ever get to making out with Miles Davis Moody, so I wasn't even that mad about it.<br />
<br />
Anyway, Alyssa was EVERYTHING. She did lip-syncs to the songs she did on her last season of Drag Race and did a very brief Q & A. The first question was about her personal life and you could tell she was really thrown off by it, but she handled it like a true pageant queen. She really exemplified the point that you can be successful even if you don't win the show (or, like the pageant queen that she is called it, "the fourth alternate"). I'm not sure if we'll always like the Friday night viewing parties, especially since I usually open Saturdays, but <i>RuPaul's Drag Race </i>in my life gives me a sense of normalcy. We could all use more of that. Because I want to end this episode on a happy note, here is a picture of me being carried by a shirtless muscle stud.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMJQUBfhomyjyq-LQnyF5OKB-SZHox1y5Cc6r9wOZcDNcsx8URZbeBbo1W5piMmmkg4iKJCwwd9KAqWMojN72YKmvXPfeoNirDkSginiow52AO7tlHQvxpyENUcqXW256T1fOeG4M08bm1/s1600/muscleman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMJQUBfhomyjyq-LQnyF5OKB-SZHox1y5Cc6r9wOZcDNcsx8URZbeBbo1W5piMmmkg4iKJCwwd9KAqWMojN72YKmvXPfeoNirDkSginiow52AO7tlHQvxpyENUcqXW256T1fOeG4M08bm1/s320/muscleman.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
ASTERISKS<br />
<br />
*fear of missing out<br />
<i>**the joke is about straight guys in college who are like "Dude, I swear I'm not gay." And I go, "Of course you're not. You're using way too much teeth." GAY HACK REALNESS.</i><br />
<i>***</i>Another thing to cry about is that my friend Carla and I played <i>Mean Girls </i>trivia at The Pint and missed placing in the finals by one point! Uggghhh.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />jakeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05687321925107280139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757619093854217193.post-20855634999414232142017-01-13T22:57:00.000-08:002020-07-30T12:12:38.077-07:00Loring Park Episode #67: The Smell of Hospitals in the Winter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKPtFn1kdlgMZm0JgD5JBJofw4o-S7kVlDXG_G-Qbic8mjniedVstLdoZAX-1hVA7ZdaO-RMZVduqW5Ivj5NMDoSenjqaoydRf3-qbLuR4vsl7gFxzVu4qje_pj3hlIa4ifJWRMumHOBEd/s1600/gaysofourlives.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKPtFn1kdlgMZm0JgD5JBJofw4o-S7kVlDXG_G-Qbic8mjniedVstLdoZAX-1hVA7ZdaO-RMZVduqW5Ivj5NMDoSenjqaoydRf3-qbLuR4vsl7gFxzVu4qje_pj3hlIa4ifJWRMumHOBEd/s1600/gaysofourlives.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
People love roller coasters. Okay, there's always gonna be that friend with a vertigo problem or propensity toward nausea who can't stand roller coasters, or pregnant ladies, or people with bad backs, but for the most part, people love roller coasters. They're called "thrill rides" for a reason. Up, down, up, down, loop upside down at 70 miles per hour. Nobody goes to the amusement park just to sit on a bench.<br />
<br />
I had to work my way up to roller coasters as a kid. The High Roller was my favorite. It wasn't super high and at the end there were three hills in a row and you got that fun feeling of your stomach about to fall out of your throat (okay, it's "fun" when you're nine. Maybe not so much now). The first time I went on the Corkscrew I had to ride with a stranger who was a teenage boy and I was an effete child and I was so terrified of both him and the ride that I blacked out for 45 seconds. I don't remember anything about it, about the boy's friends laughing at the picture that was taken and wanting to buy it. I worked my way up to ones like Wild Thing and Steel Venom, and now I love roller coasters. Flip me upside down, send me down the hill. I went on the Cyclone at Coney Island and it was so rickety I had to take muscle relaxers for a week when I got home. I have kissed friends, made friends, and pretended to be asleep on the Wild Thing when it's time for the picture. I will scream with a smile and want to do it all over again if the lines aren't too long.<br />
<br />
Roller coasters are exhilarating and unpredictable. They're wild, they're crazy, they're <i>fun.</i><br />
<br />
But here's the catch: They are also only meant to last a short amount of time. They are not designed to be enjoyed forever. At some point, the ride has to come to a complete stop. What if you were on the Wild Thing all day long? You have to get off the roller coaster. You can't be on the roller coaster all day long. Stop the ride. I'm feeling sick. Again? No, please. I know what's coming now. We go down the hill. I don't want to do this anymore. I don't feel well. I want to stop but now people are screaming and I have to pretend I'm having fun WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.<br />
<br />
The roller coaster finally derailed somewhere between 2 and 3 A.M. on New Year's Day 2017. It may have seemed like an abrupt stop to the ride, but it had been a long fucking time coming.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<b>But Before All That</b><br />
<br />
But first we're gonna talk about boys, because this is still <i>Loring Park</i> (adjacent) and the sponsors need their eye candy.<br />
<br />
"We need a Mary and Rhoda night," said Jared on an 11 P.M. phone call, and we made our way to The Saloon on a Wednesday night. I was just sad. Sad about money, sad about being a failure in all aspects of my life, sad about my propensity to make mountains out of molehills. Hell, it wasn't molehills. I created continents. If I had actually just talked to people about what I had been going through or perceiving as reality, maybe it would have all been better. But I didn't want to do that. I wanted to keep running away.<br />
<br />
Paul Ryan was at The Saloon and looked good. Despite my protests, he bought us Vegas Bombs. I flirted ridiculously. I was being that basic bitch, because when Paul was a bit heavier I hadn't been giving him the time of day, and now he had a good body again and I was throwing myself at him. If I didn't know myself, I would hate myself. Oh, wait. I did anyway. He let me flirt for 10 minutes before telling me he had a boyfriend, and I apologized for my boner. At least I'm polite when I'm shallow.<br />
<br />
"We haven't done it," he said.<br />
"That means you really like him," I pouted.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
I haggled with the lawyers in Florida after being sued by Discover and finally got it figured out. My wages will still be garnished with Capital One, but come 2018, I'll actually get to, like, keep the money I'm making. What a novel idea! I drove to the library to work on my book but instead I had to deal with that and didn't make it to the computer at all.<br />
<br />
I went to the library the next day and wrote everyone letters, telling them what I was thankful for and what I was sorry for. I only had an hour and didn't write everything I wanted. I put them in manila envelopes as if they were legal documents. I wasn't sure how they would be received but realized that wasn't in my control. I went on Facebook and chronicled happy memories and realized that my year did not entirely suck, despite the overwhelming narrative.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://jakeyon.blogspot.com/2016/08/loring-park-episode-62-in-which-i-am.html">Remember the gorgeous tall boy who I met at the '90s?</a> He moved to California, as all my crushes do, but he was in town for the holidays. His gal pal was blowing up my phone to let me know he was in town. She wanted to hang out and Reid and I met up with them at The Saloon for karaoke. I walked up to him just in time for my rendition of "What a Man".<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzoILUZPADoz61-f8tZKju7eQis7iuIiiUF5ujVTJpKzpwyNbw2B9InAStl3k4xSPNXETEit2jtniYqEZV06rzH_Q7H_pcvwYLpUlPko0ljjIJBI7-WhjDvP1jCVWh5RhFUHjRKPA9T9Rc/s1600/trixiewink.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzoILUZPADoz61-f8tZKju7eQis7iuIiiUF5ujVTJpKzpwyNbw2B9InAStl3k4xSPNXETEit2jtniYqEZV06rzH_Q7H_pcvwYLpUlPko0ljjIJBI7-WhjDvP1jCVWh5RhFUHjRKPA9T9Rc/s400/trixiewink.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
He was just as tall, blonde, and tan as ever, and Reid and I danced up on him while I rapped. He was with a boy and I wasn't sure if they were dating or not, and I didn't want to be that girl. Also, the boy was short like me and also named Jake so I just felt weird about the whole thing. I bought the tall boy some lemon drops and tried to make small talk about Hillcrest. Tall Boy doesn't talk a lot. He just smiles a lot. I talk enough for the both of us so I was okay with it.<br />
<br />
"He's so beautiful," his gal pal kept yelling. "I can't stand it."<br />
"Me neither," I agreed, although I think our reasons for not being able to stand it might have been different. I learned a lot about Gal Pal's job and she was just as sweet and friendly as she had been in July.<br />
<br />
Tall Boy fell over a stool and we had to leave.<br />
<br />
"I have to go to the bathroom first," he said.<br />
"Okay, hurry," I said. I took his hand and we ran into Chuck! But I didn't have time to talk! I had to bring this supermodel to the bathroom!<br />
"You seem busy," said Chuck with a knowing smile.<br />
"I'll talk later," I whined. "We have to leave!" We went in the bathroom and he tried to kiss me, but he was drunk! I felt bad! I mean, I had been drinking too, but I wasn't, like, <i>drunnnkkkkk.</i> But he's so beautiful! Aaaaah! I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him with all the sexuality of Macaulay Culkin and Anna Chlumsky in "My Girl", and if I noticed his impossibly sculpted body pressed up against mine, it was a complete accident.<br />
<br />
Tall Boy, his date (?), gal pal and I went in an Uber to the gal pal's apartment. Tall Boy is probably 6'1" -- I always thought he was 6'4"or above because Gal Pal is 4'11" and on the two occasions I've seen him he's been with her -- so I told him to stretch his legs out across my lap. We got out of the cab and realized he lost his shoe.<br />
<br />
"HOW DO YOU LOSE A SHOE?!" Gal Pal kept yelling. "I DON'T UNDERSTAND!" But I understood. I lose things all the time. I imagined us having a beautiful future together, living on the beaches of Southern California. Every day would be a new cell phone, drivers' license, or pair of shoes. We would both work extra hours to reimburse ourselves for the cost of all these new things, but we would be happy and tan. Okay, he would be super tan because I can't get tan to save my life, but we would still both be happy, having a wonderful and happy life of laughter and lost articles.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/Aop6YF1Xqqg/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Aop6YF1Xqqg?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>OK, We'll Talk About It (Kind Of, Because This is My Blog and I Still Get to Be Cryptic About Some Stuff)</b><br />
<br />
<br />
Maybe listening to Mariah Carey's rendition of "Auld Lang Syne" over and over was a bad omen. I would later joke that I went nuts because I love Mariah Carey and I didn't want her to have a worse New Year's Eve than me.<br />
<br />
I love New Year's Eve. I love dressing up and being with friends and having shots and seeing all the boys. There are so many events going on but we decided to just do The Saloon. Reid was going to a house party as he hates big crowds and Jared had to work. Steve, Joey and I were going to be the Three Musketeers and we were all going to have <i>fun.</i> It's my third favorite day of the year, after my birthday and Pride weekend (Pride weekend counts as one day because it all blurs together). I looked forward to finding out who would awkwardly avoid eye contact with me at midnight.<br />
<br />
Um, it was not my favorite day this year. I had spent all year thinking that I was the Lisa Vanderpump of my group and in reality I had turned into Taylor Armstrong.<br />
<br />
Maybe I shouldn't have had all that champagne or the energy drinks. Maybe I should have stayed home. Maybe I should have been honest with everyone, and that included myself.<br />
<br />
I remember pre-gaming. I remember getting in the Uber to the club. I remember flirting. I remember midnight. And I don't remember anything that happened in the club after that. 12 to 2? NADA. But I <i>do</i> remember feeling <i>riled up</i>, getting a ride home (I don't remember how), and impulsively acting in a way self-destructive enough that brought me to Hennepin County Medical Center. I KNOW. And I know that it looks like teenage girl bullshit drama shenanigans. And maybe it was. What people didn't know -- or maybe they did and didn't know what to say about it -- is that this had been going on <i>forever</i>. This does not make me special or unique, as 1 in 5 people will have mental illness at some point in their lives. And <i>that</i> doesn't excuse my behavior, either.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/KO7KwUZmOKI/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/KO7KwUZmOKI?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
I miraculously remembered to bring my phone charger.<br />
<br />
My neighbor invited me over via Facebook and I assumed he was joking because he lives right across from me and probably saw the ambulance parked in front of my house for ten minutes. "I'm in a hospital," I wrote back. "Long story." "Don't die," he responded. It was the only contact I would have with anyone, as they soon would take all my belongings, which I asked about constantly.<br />
<br />
"I lose everything," I said. "It'll take the cake if I go to the ER and end up losing my wallet <i>again."</i> I couldn't even keep my Listerine Strips! I was still in my fancy New Year's Eve outfit (quite banging, I will say, as unbangable as I had been lately) which was soon to be replaced with a hospital gown. I accidentally showed the Buff Daddy security guard my ass. Three times. He was nice enough to not vomit. Then I vomited anyway.<br />
<br />
"Someone's been doing his sit-ups," a nurse said as he placed electrodes all over me and tightened my restraints. This was my lowest, most vulnerable moment as an adult and I was being hit on. It was the nicest thing anyone could have ever done for me.<br />
<br />
They gave me a jar to pee in but my bladder was too shy so I just laid there miserable and full-bladdered and I was in and out a lot. I had no idea what time it was. I just wanted my mom, but she would have been <i>sooooooo</i> pissed. I had stepped in it this time. There were no do-overs. And I was dizzy. I prefer to sleep under the covers, but that wasn't an option.<br />
<br />
"We need to be able to see your face, bud," said a dreamy intake nurse. I imagined a June wedding.<br />
<br />
I was finally wheeled upstairs, to some far-away area in the hospital that felt like it was all the way in St. Paul. A young nurse was there with burgundy scrubs for me to put on. They were too big.<br />
<br />
"Jacob Emmret?" he asked.<br />
"Emmert," I slurred.<br />
"Emmret," he repeated.<br />
"Yeah, sure," I said.<br />
"We've been waiting for you. Can you change clothes by yourself?"<br />
"Mmm-hmm," I said, now feeling very accomplished.<br />
<br />
A young nurse named April came in and I thought we would be best friends but she seemed pissed. I'd be pissed if I had to work overnight on New Year's Eve, too!<br />
<br />
"How old are you?" she asked.<br />
"30," I said. <i>Oh, God. </i>I would later realize they put it on my bracelet in big fat numbers. <b>Emmert, Jacob (30 yrs).</b> Like, I get the picture. Don't rub it in. This year sucked!<br />
"Are you married or single?" she asked.<br />
"Single," I said and almost burst into tears.<br />
"Do you work full-time?"<br />
"Yes."<br />
"Do you have a good relationship with your family?"<br />
"Yes."<br />
"They live close by?"<br />
"Yes."<br />
"Have you lost or gained weight significantly in the past six months?"<br />
"I lost 15 pounds." But I had gained 10 last year, so lol idk.<br />
<br />
She interrogated me further, very business-like. Asked about my workplace, my insurance, my emergency contact (which was Erin, who lives in Europe -- I was too tired or ambivalent to correct her, and the only other phone number I have memorized was my mother's and I still didn't want her to know anything) and I was terse and calm in my answers until the questions got scarier.<br />
<br />
"Do you think you need to be in a hospital for a while?"<br />
<i>Don't pause too long. They'll keep you here forever and you have shitty insurance.</i><br />
"No," I said. I was going to miss brunch. Also, I had been in the hospital twice in 2000 and maybe it was different because I was a juvenile, but I remember that you don't get to pick when you go home. They do. The rule was that the kids who wanted to stay were discharged and the kids who wanted to leave had to stay. In my April stint I was the former and in my August-September stint I was the latter.<br />
"If you go home, will you hurt yourself?"<br />
"No."<br />
"Will you hurt others?"<br />
"God, no."<br />
<br />
Then she stopped for dramatic effect.<br />
"So what's going on with you?" she asked.<br />
"I just don't need to be here anymore," I mustered. "I'm being sued. My life isn't going anywhere. My mom is 60 and busting her ass to take care of me. I think about death constantly. I've been acting like a middle-schooler to everyone."<br />
<br />
<i>Am I going to be here forever? Does anyone know I'm here? I ruined their New Year's Eve. They're probably all burning my stuff in the backyard and having a bonfire. AND I WOULD DESERVE IT.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
"Your roommate called?" she said in a statement but she lifted her voice as if she was asking me a question.<br />
I finally looked up.<br />
"Steve?" she asked/clarified, in case I thought my roommate was Channing Tatum.<br />
"Was he mad?"<br />
"I can't tell you anything he said."<br />
"Ugh. That means he was mad." April was not being a girl's girl. She was doing that second grade thing when your frenemy is like, <i>I know a secret but I can't tell you. Nah nah nah boo boo</i> and then you later find out that Corey likes Amanda and you're like,<i> I knew that a week ago. Duhhhhh.</i><br />
<br />
She sighed.<br />
<br />
"You're not under 18 and you haven't signed any consent forms. I can't release any information about you. I only told him you're safe. The doctor's gonna interview you later."<br />
<br />
She shut the door.<br />
<br />
There were no clocks and the blinds were shut. I skipped every meal that was offered, and that is how I would guess what time it was.<br />
<br />
The doctor came in at some point after whenever "dinner" was.<br />
<br />
"How do you feel?"<br />
"Groggy."<br />
"Do you think you need to be in treatment for substance abuse?"<br />
"No."<br />
"Alcohol is a depressant. You're depressed. Do you think that's good for you?"<br />
<i>But I'm the fun one.</i><br />
"Have you been hospitalized for depression before?"<br />
"In 2000."<br />
"What was going on?"<br />
"I was gay and feminine and felt bad about it."<br />
"Were you on medication for it?"<br />
"Yes."<br />
"What kind?"<br />
"Zoloft and Risperdal, and then Paxil."<br />
"Did you stop?'<br />
"I quit cold turkey in 11th grade."<br />
"Why did you do that?"<br />
"Because I didn't like the sexual side effects and when I tried talking to my mom about it, it didn't go over very well, so I just stopped. I think I did it as kind of a Fuck You. Sorry. I shouldn't swear."<br />
"Are you in a relationship?"<br />
"No."<br />
"Have you had a relationship end recently?"<br />
<i>Ugggggghhhhh. We're still on that?</i><br />
"Sort of." To both "relationship" and "recently".<br />
"Do you think you need to be in the hospital for a while?"<br />
<br />
That loaded question again. I paused too long.<br />
<br />
"We're at least keeping you overnight. I think you're still too groggy to answer my questions. We'll talk to you in the morning. It was nice to meet you, Jacob. I hope you feel better."<br />
<br />
A woman came in who screamed and yelled the entire night. She wouldn't go to Abbott. Her son needed her. She wanted to stay with her friend and not her mom. She couldn't miss work. I know I had no clock, but this went on for <i>hours</i>. The doctor told her if she woke any of us up she'd be in trouble. I was too tired to walk outside and tell her to shut the fuck up. My mouth was dryer than the Sahara and I just wanted Listerine Strips and a gallon of Sprite.<br />
<br />
"YOU SHOULD BE TREATING ME LIKE A PRINCESS!" she yelled at some point after she realized the damsel-in-distress act wasn't going to get over.<br />
<i>I'm a queen and I outrank you!</i> I wanted to yell. Instead I just put the covers over my head, an apt metaphor for how I had been dealing with problems all year. Every time I stood up I still felt too dizzy to walk.<br />
<br />
"LET ME GO HOME!!!!" she kept yelling. Then she would violently puke in the bathroom and come back outside and sob her head off. The person in the room next to me had a television. I had nothing but my thoughts and the Moaning Myrtle of HCMC. (Yes, I worked a Harry Potter reference into this story. Ten points for Hufflepuff.)<br />
"You're not under arrest," a doctor kept saying. "You're in a psych hold."<br />
"I DIDN'T EVEN DO ANYTHING!!!!!!" she yelled.<br />
<br />
This went on all night. Any sleep I got was in ten-minute intervals.<br />
<br />
I had a pre-scheduled doctor's appointment at 10 A.M. that Monday and if I didn't show up, my insurance would charge me anyway (they said they made exceptions for "special cases" and this was pretty fucking special, but I was still worried about it). At some point in the morning, I said I wanted to go home.<br />
<br />
"The doctor needs to see you first," a nurse said. "But we'll start to give you your things."<br />
<br />
I think I wanted my Listerine Strips even more than I wanted my phone.<br />
<br />
A different doctor came in. Uh-oh!<br />
<br />
"Do you think you can go home?" she asked.<br />
"I've had a lot of time by myself to think," I said. "And I have a good support system. My mother lives close by. I have a lot of apologies to make, but I really do have good friends, and I have two doctor's appointments this week." One was for ADD testing and the other was a therapist. I booked those weeks prior in a random burst of adulting.<br />
"Are you gonna hurt yourself when you get home?" she asked.<br />
"No," I said.<br />
"Are you gonna drink?"<br />
"No," I said. It was 7:30 in the morning!<br />
"I'll get your discharge papers. You can get dressed."<br />
<br />
She got up to leave, then turned around.<br />
<br />
"If you do this again, you might be successful," she said. "Even if you don't really want to be."<br />
<br />
When I got dressed and left the room, the incredibly loud woman was still outside in the lobby (conveniently located RIGHT OUTSIDE OF MY ROOM). She was pacing but had calmed down. She looked nothing like I had pictured her in my mind. She scanned me up and down and I was worried she would start yelling again, wondering how come I got to leave and she couldn't.<br />
<br />
Instead she smiled.<br />
<br />
"You look nice," she smiled. "You look really nice."<br />
"Thank you," I said. "It was my New Year's Eve outfit." <br />
I buttoned my sport coat and smiled back at her with quivering lips, then looked out the window for the first time in 30 hours.<br />
"I love New Year's Eve."<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
I turned my phone on when I got to the lobby. All the texts came at once. My mother told me to call her. I missed comedian brunch and gay brunch. Tall Boy had asked if I had plans and I facetiously told myself that was the biggest tragedy of the whole affair. ("I was in the loony bin," I texted him. "I hope you feel better," he said, and I thought that was surprisingly understanding). I took a cab home at 7:30 AM, not knowing what to expect. At first, I wanted to run away again but I didn't. I faced the music and I survived. I still felt groggy so I called in sick to work, which I never do! I don't think I could have done it emotionally. Every time a customer would ask "How was your New Years?" I would start bawling. I went to my doctor's appointment at 10 A.M. It was arduous ADD testing that is so long and boring that I think the tests give you ADD.<br />
<br />
When I got back home, Steve took me to Red Lobster. It's just like the Beyonce song. "<i>When my roommate comes home from the hospital after a psychotic breakdown, I take his ass to Red Lobster." </i>Oh, wait, that's not it?<i> </i>I was tempted by the cocktail menu but had Sprite, gosh darn it. Our friend Hunter was the waiter and he is adorable and twinky, but he's nice so I don't feel threatened by him. He also, no lie, was very good at explaining the specials. I realized I hadn't had Red Lobster in ten years and I put ketchup on everything. We were the youngest people there by a margin of about 50 years. Then we went to Target and watched movies.<br />
<br />
Maya Angelou said that when people show who you they are, believe them. I used to think that only applied when people are acting badly. On that day I learned that it also applies to how people treat you in moments of crisis. Upon my return, Steve would have had every right to be closed off, or leave, or tell me that I was a raging psycho who needed to go live with his mother for a while, with a laundry list of grievances. Instead he stuck around, drove because I didn't want to, and paid for lunch. He may have thought nothing of it, but everything he did and said that day was an act of grace and forgiveness that I certainly was not owed.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpHajxbiNzHMXLq-m6RIF9xEMiSvGcD3xplfiefekX02jqxiEgkDaC0sXjMXPSvSrL0QLHTtt3FlFhxW2wYSdgtey48jsJtn-pT9vcuoq56MuXJVOYnx3S7UXm3XURNxHRadi-FWfOo1OD/s1600/stefon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpHajxbiNzHMXLq-m6RIF9xEMiSvGcD3xplfiefekX02jqxiEgkDaC0sXjMXPSvSrL0QLHTtt3FlFhxW2wYSdgtey48jsJtn-pT9vcuoq56MuXJVOYnx3S7UXm3XURNxHRadi-FWfOo1OD/s400/stefon.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
The following Thursday, I was asked to take part in Fifty First Jokes at the Brave New Workshop, where fifty comics tell their first jokes of the new year. I was nervous as hell because I hadn't been in the "comedy scene" for a while so I didn't know any of the new kids (and one of them was dreamy!), and the only new jokes I had written were about the hospital. Kinda bleak stuff. My jokes were well-received. The best part? I wasn't even the darkest person that night. Jeff Pfoser did two minutes about being at a funeral for a baby. Was it dark? Yes. Was it real? Yes. Did he get the only standing ovation of the night? <i>Yes.</i><br />
<br />
Brave New Workshop is right next to The Saloon, so I stopped to say hello to the kids but I had Diet Cokes because I was driving to stay at my mom's house that night since my appointment was in the morning. It was pretty quiet. Had this been a normal week, standing in line for my shame basket while lip-syncing to "Dreaming of You" by Selena and scaring the twinks with my caffeinated dance moves would have been the lowest point of the week.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6C6n_A9N0U9EByS7JdzTBPdl_68gBxhyq-tt7OLku0q-wdxyiJ8bwe25Hcd5JDudO1ikRrKGxoBMXL1F3DhBmzdSioIcJT6Go20ShlKOoNfi-xAVdwv5305oDzmPgSS8OETC8IIYlgx4o/s1600/therapist.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6C6n_A9N0U9EByS7JdzTBPdl_68gBxhyq-tt7OLku0q-wdxyiJ8bwe25Hcd5JDudO1ikRrKGxoBMXL1F3DhBmzdSioIcJT6Go20ShlKOoNfi-xAVdwv5305oDzmPgSS8OETC8IIYlgx4o/s400/therapist.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
My therapist is named Alexandria. She reminds me a lot of Erin. Her office has a green color scheme.<br />
<br />
"My rule is that for the first five minutes we don't talk about the hard stuff," she said. That was fine! And then we got into the hard stuff, and that was fine, too. I showed her the picture of everyone on Christmas and explained who everyone was and how awful I had been to everybody (well, I haven't been awful to Greta since high school. Everyone else I had been awful to at some point in 2016).<br />
<br />
"And I didn't have any fun in New York because I was so worried about being the ugly friend," I said while recapping the year.<br />
"Maybe you need uglier friends," Alexandria offered. "Then you can be the pretty one."<br />
"No, that's not a good reason to stop being friends with people," I said.<br />
"Well, I don't think you're ugly at all," Alexandria said.<br />
"I haven't even paid you yet," I said.<br />
"I'm serious," she said. "I don't think there's anything bad about how you look."<br />
<br />
We made short and long term goals and discussed depression, suicide, and anxiety.<br />
"Nobody goes from 0 to 10," Alexandria said. "You probably think you are. But when you're freaking out at everyone, you probably were already at 8 on the inside."<br />
TAKE ALL MY MONEY.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
I had made peace with Jared and Reid, but I hadn't sat down with Joey yet, and we agreed to have lunch at the Black Forest Inn later that day. My mother came over and helped clean the apartment while I went, because I am still a garbage person dumpster fire. I was incredibly nervous and decided I would wear sunglasses the whole time. Also, it was Opposite Day because I got there first and that never happens. I really didn't know how it was gonna go. Joey had every right to "break up" with me, for lack of a better term, and it would hurt worse than any kind of romantic departure, even when the broski drove away in the pick-up and never came back. I imagined crying in my bed for a month, hearing him make plans with everyone else through the grapevine while I was banned from The Saloon.<br />
<br />
I sat for ten minutes before he arrived. He looked like a million bucks. God damn it. Alexandria was right.<br />
<br />
"So ... how was your week?" he awkwardly asked.<br />
"My week was <i>fantastic</i>," I said. "How was yours?"<br />
<br />
We both laughed.<br />
<br />
"I'm sorry I didn't say anything right away," he said. "I didn't really know what to do."<br />
"There's no right or wrong way to react to it," I said.<br />
<br />
We went to Glam Doll Donuts. Who needs anti-depressants when you have donuts? I went home to my clean house and took a nap in my clothes, because some things never change.<br />
<br />
I had Sunday off but everyone else was working! My friend Sten was visiting from Germany and I planned on having a Sunday Funday. Joey texted me asking me if I was going to be drinking all day and said he was holding me to my pledge of cutting back. At first I got pissy and felt like I was having an intervention via text message, but then I realized he was right. I was planning on having cocktails later that night for the Golden Globes party, <i>but there was no reason to drink during the day just because I could. </i>I had worked on Sundays for so long that I thought every Sunday had to be an alcohol-feuled Sunday Funday and I am realizing that, um, no, they can just be a regular day off. I didn't even necessarily know if I would know anyone at LUSH! I had Sprite at The Bulldog and only ate eggs because Steve and I made plans for his lunch break (another thing you can do: make plans later in the day so you can't drink early in the day! Ohhhhh. That's how this works). Sten and I had a wonderful conversation about high school friends, mental illness treatment in Germany, and dating as a heterosexual in the Bay Area.<br />
<br />
I stopped at LUSH and sat by Liam. "Are you behaving?" my friend Alec asked. "I'll buy you a Sprite." See, I had put the whole thing about the psych ward on Facebook and said I was going to cut back on drinking. I didn't say I was going to <i>stop </i>drinking, but I wasn't gonna get Level Four Drunk all the time. I was overwhelmed with the level of support and received several private messages from people who had been going through similar things. That 1 in 5 thing is real, y'all. But I ended up taking the post down. Saying you're gonna cut back on drinking while still drinking in public is like an obese person saying they're only going to have THREE pieces of cake today instead of five, and I was wrong to put myself on a pedestal and under a microscope that way. I'm perfectly fine to talk about depression -- which is what I have and that's it; for a while I thought I was bipolar or borderline because that is more sexy or dramatic, but nope, just plain old depressive disorder for me -- but the drinking thing is more nuanced (or maybe it's not, and that's what I'm scared of). "It's not other people's responsibility to figure out what kind of alcoholic you are," my brother told me.<br />
<br />
I dropped Liam off at a friend's, accidentally ended up on the freeway when I really had to pee, bought ingrown hair cream from Steve because I am a disgusting beast, and we went to lunch and chatted with my old boss. "Are you dating anyone?" she asked. "Hellll no," I replied. "I liked someone who told me he was gonna need a few days, and that was 21 months ago."<br />
<br />
I stopped at Lunds to buy impromptu snacks, and the boys came over for the Golden Globes! I love awards show season even though I hate this new trend where every "Oscar" movie comes out the last week of December, so I haven't seen or heard of <i>anything. </i>Usually by the time the SAG awards come around a few weeks later, I'm more familiar with stuff. Joey and I would later go see <i>La La Land</i> because we didn't want our gay cards to be revoked. Reid, Steve and I went to The Saloon and my friend Chris, who is an impossibly muscular bouncer at The Gay '90s, was in the shower contest. We left before the show (Steve was driving and we left on his time), but I found out he won. "Congratulations, shrimp," I told him the next day. "Thanks, tuna," he said. Muscular, straight, and witty? TAKE ALL MY MONEY PART TWO. His wife is a beautiful aesthetician. Of course.<br />
<br />
Life has been slowly getting back to "normal". We went to the casino (I lost). I had a show at the Corner Bar and Dane and the boys came. Sometimes I think about how lucky I am and how silly it was to throw it all away. I hope I learn to appreciate it more.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/1D5PtyrewSs/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/1D5PtyrewSs?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />jakeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05687321925107280139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757619093854217193.post-1922480089929852982016-12-26T21:27:00.000-08:002020-07-30T12:12:41.012-07:00Loring Park Episode #66: The Holiday ShowChildren, I can't believe 2016 is almost over! I have never enjoyed this time of year, probably because I have worked retail my entire adult life. That's why this episode is gonna be choppier than usual. It's been so long since I've written to you that we have to go all the way back to Halloween!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimx0DtiK19AZYxHOFN6Y8AB-RSGjQZo1hvWhHCk0_8ZIP24u3X9FbJLdMEhQ2AOehFzCnCN1QaQS1cW8tVIHC8sOFK1Y-ApEwSejkVBHMOzin9aHyz_9aCQ4sJfPLOMAE-nBFi7Q4p-7VP/s1600/ria2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimx0DtiK19AZYxHOFN6Y8AB-RSGjQZo1hvWhHCk0_8ZIP24u3X9FbJLdMEhQ2AOehFzCnCN1QaQS1cW8tVIHC8sOFK1Y-ApEwSejkVBHMOzin9aHyz_9aCQ4sJfPLOMAE-nBFi7Q4p-7VP/s320/ria2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">With my friend Ria at Lush</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRI592XP_EGOQdOiZTvtGjiRzIDP-lD1WD2FWuLfAK8q_DK_j_yp80wk-dqmyY5lP2_DKBSgT9R91bXDOkq4gJ0Ay8kf3I82g1o_jHm-dcZpvpmOYvsJ-Xh6_OCCG9LuBdzONM4TwRmEam/s1600/shark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRI592XP_EGOQdOiZTvtGjiRzIDP-lD1WD2FWuLfAK8q_DK_j_yp80wk-dqmyY5lP2_DKBSgT9R91bXDOkq4gJ0Ay8kf3I82g1o_jHm-dcZpvpmOYvsJ-Xh6_OCCG9LuBdzONM4TwRmEam/s320/shark.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">My friend Angie made this for me!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
I decided to attempt creativity by being a shark/lifeguard, even though a lifeguard can't really save you from a shark. I wore my old "Baewatch" tee and a onesie from the kids' department that I purchased from Reid. Jared was Dorothy Gale, Joey was Adam Levine, and Steve, who had spent months discussing grandiose group outfit ideas (ranging from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles to Fifth Harmony), ended up borrowing a pair of camo pants and was an army man. I remember enjoying Halloween this year! We had a boy staying over that weekend and I was in drunk mommy mode. Diva came out with us and next year she is going to do special effects make-up on all of us.<br />
<br />
The day after real Halloween, we had an 8 AM meeting at work and I had to work until 6! Cue horror music. Then, Sarah McPeck and I were off to CAMP bar for a live podcast of <a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/not-so-kosher/id1069112404?mt=2">"Not So Kosher".</a> I felt bad because when I got there I was really ornery and was worried that I wouldn't be any pleasant, but the hosts were really great and once we started recording I think I felt like myself again. It's hard to feel "on" all the time, especially when you're coming off of a bender and on three hours of sleep. I was glad Sarah was there; she's a pro and our paths often intersect. Two months later, we would reunite again doing a corporate gig at Regis, where we were told we couldn't swear to talk about sex. Sarah was like a star student and wrote a poem about getting her hair done. I talked about sex anyway.<br />
<br />
Despite how tired I was, the boys and I went to go see <i>The Girl on the Train </i>at 10 PM that night anyway. It is about an alcoholic mess of woman who cares far too much about the lives of other people instead of her own and she isn't quite sure what the truth is and is an incredibly unreliable narrator. If you take away all the parts about infidelity and murder, I found it oddly relatable and that worried me. Also, there was too much sex in it for me to enjoy myself in mixed company and the next time we all went to the movies it was to see the much more palatable <i>Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,</i> which I thought was going to be a documentary about Grindr.<br />
<br />
Speaking of horror, after Halloween was Election Day! I worked as an election judge in my local precinct. These were my biggest surprises of election judging this year:<br />
<br />
1. A surprising number of people do not realize that you can't just go in and vote anywhere you want. You have to vote, y'know, <i>where you live.</i> As part of my pledge of helping people vote in any way I can, I looked up where certain people needed to go. Two men were pleasant when told they had to go to St. Paul and Columbia Heights, respectively; one guy said "Fuck this" and went home.<br />
<br />
2. An older man came in with a "service dog" that jumped on everyone. Mmm-hmm. It turned out he had already voted absentee.<br />
<br />
3. Jared and his boyfriend live in my precinct and arrived with half an hour to spare! Woo hop!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLZ5TI-aTvqpHFDYIAAp4t_hYZO6d8QRDTI6jmM97Av9VWk34GhppKXXMETDyZkZxGCD-v-m3VzC8FPq0aZVl6nJ-2eVVsTcb1O3y5lsgRjvUt2Q2pJcanUPcUsYV11jt-NVB55HMceHDf/s1600/electionday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLZ5TI-aTvqpHFDYIAAp4t_hYZO6d8QRDTI6jmM97Av9VWk34GhppKXXMETDyZkZxGCD-v-m3VzC8FPq0aZVl6nJ-2eVVsTcb1O3y5lsgRjvUt2Q2pJcanUPcUsYV11jt-NVB55HMceHDf/s320/electionday.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Despite how horrifying I look in this picture, this was eight days after Halloween.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
4. I really liked seeing first-time voters, especially a group of young women from a local drug and alcohol rehabilitation center.<br />
<br />
After closing up shop, I went to the neighbor's house across the street to watch the results. Goldschlager was involved. Of course, we all know what happened.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLordfNLlIxriMPQKEoVT17sdxaA5L1s1dszigb9KlcyIiDualL8BCl6jQ3lKTl3ZChDJvw_6GQX-SfjQG2RGbyMeSA1DjmgT7lw7FYrVOA6jgT1r8mpiZxZKMX_P-LngtKg6dLTiCF74Z/s1600/posttrump.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLordfNLlIxriMPQKEoVT17sdxaA5L1s1dszigb9KlcyIiDualL8BCl6jQ3lKTl3ZChDJvw_6GQX-SfjQG2RGbyMeSA1DjmgT7lw7FYrVOA6jgT1r8mpiZxZKMX_P-LngtKg6dLTiCF74Z/s320/posttrump.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I could have stayed in the fetal position forever, but we have work to do -- and donations to make to the ACLU and Planned Parenthood. It's gonna be a rough four years, y'all. Still, I was happy to see that Minnesota had super high voter turnout, and I still have a kum-ba-ya world view in that I have more respect for those who vote <i>period</i> than those who agree with me but stay home on Election Day for reasons of varying bogusness.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<br />
I'm a month away from being 30 and a half now, and I'm still not used to it. I somehow became even more of a man child this year. I legitimately don't know how to do anything. It's a miracle I can wipe my own butt some days. While in the car one night, I had a conversation with Steve -- who is 23 but, like, a <i>grown-up --</i> and I said that I spent a lot of my twenties obsessed with complicated men and trying to figure them out, and this year I have to figure out who the hell<i> I </i>am at 30. Also, I don't want to date boys who are freshmen in college (you at least have to be born before the <i>Butterfly</i> album came out), but I don't relate to men my actual age, who have degrees and grown-up jobs and mortgages. But 24-year-old men want to date either other 24-year-old men or 40-year-old daddies, and I'm this weird twink-adjacent goofball.<br />
<br />
So I had this in the back of my head when Dane and I went to a very fancy fundraiser at Coup d'etat in Uptown, and I hadn't been there since my friend Jenny's birthday party years ago. The food and the people were lovely, and we were there to support a great charity, and yet I couldn't help but feel inadequate. Dane is in management now, and he and a young woman of 28 were discussing the complexities that go with that. He was trying to include me in conversation and I just wanted to become more invisible.<br />
<br />
"Jakey has a show in St. Paul," he said to be encouraging.<br />
"Well, God love you for thinking I would ever go to St. Paul," a young woman laughed, and I just wanted to <i>go.</i><br />
<br />
Dane won the biggest raffle prize. Of course he did.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
My friend Chad Kampe of Flip Phone fame graciously gave me a free ticket to Christmas Queens! It was a show that consisted of most of the girls from <i>RuPaul's Drag Race</i> Season 6, with Roxxy Andrews and Tatianna. I sat next to a drag queen who left at intermission. The highlight of the show for me was Chi Chi Devayne's rendition of Mariah Carey's "O Holy Night", as she took us to<i> church!</i> Bob the Drag Queen was the host and was worth the price of admission. Okay, my ticket was free, but you know what I mean. She kept the show moving, even if they kept on flickering the lights on during the Q & A and this did not deter certain queens from telling long and meandering stories that don't go anywhere. And now I know what I am like at parties.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/jON7M8b3iCU/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/jON7M8b3iCU?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
This is from a different show; at our show, Chi Chi was wearing a long red gown. It was sickening. I gagged.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirIkNpVsH9_iD-tXiVSeH33OGJlYoUqPXvRySfgS-EysHs6KzM3COmtQbS5x1go6RilCmN92Y_UlNZfK2F6zOpk4fpbNRAcqNMZngOe8BEZC08pJcPU08yUDwArdjMbp32NB6LhtmtGMDh/s1600/actionjackson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirIkNpVsH9_iD-tXiVSeH33OGJlYoUqPXvRySfgS-EysHs6KzM3COmtQbS5x1go6RilCmN92Y_UlNZfK2F6zOpk4fpbNRAcqNMZngOe8BEZC08pJcPU08yUDwArdjMbp32NB6LhtmtGMDh/s320/actionjackson.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The show in St. Paul was a lot of fun! Christina Jackson let me be the co-host, and it worked out great because I go to to stand-up first, BEFORE the crowd gets too drunk, and then help her introduce the drag acts throughout the evening. For a Friday night at the Townhouse, our crowd was fun and respectful. I was really shy when I first got there -- stand-offish even -- and I feel bad about that. But it's weird when you're the only non drag queen in the cast! I felt like a PA on <i>RuPaul's Drag Race.</i> I didn't want to be in the room with them while they changed and tucked and everything, so I just sat on my phone randomly texting people. One of the queens lip-synced to old school Mariah "Vision of Love" and "Vanishing". TAKE ALL MY MONEY. After the show, while waiting downstairs for my Uber as the queens were now to untuck in the Interior Illusions Lounge, one of the performers was<i> blatantly</i> hitting on me and I literally didn't know what to do. Maybe it's because I haven't been hit on since 2009. Don't get me wrong, I was flattered, but I was also really uncomfortable and just wanted to go The Saloon where I could be ignored all night. That's my "normal". (Also, I ran into Under Armour and then shamelessly flirted with <i>him</i> while he looked for the nearest visible exits, so at least I am consistent in my hypocrisy)<br />
<br />
I got hit on the next afternoon, at LUSH, by someone who is super sexy. I still didn't do anything. I don't know what I want. And it's <i>not</i> like my self-imposed celibacy is because I am still hung up on somebody who I am never going to see again and that ship fully sailed away a year and a half ago, although I <i>did</i> see his name blow up the cell phone of a twink sitting next to me while at a hotel party. It was a master class in restraint, as I did not start bawling my eyes out in jealousy that <i>I'm </i>not getting the "What's up?" text messages at 2:45 in the morning. Maybe I'm overthinking it and he wanted to discuss philosophy. I shouldn't have gone to that stupid party anyway.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/7GDYnTsQnV4/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/7GDYnTsQnV4?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
Is anyone else watching Mariah's World?<br />
<br />
**crickets**<br />
<br />
Okay, fine. Well, *I* am, and I convinced Chad to let me guest-host a Mariah's World viewing party at LUSH for its season premiere. Sunny Kimaraya was the featured queen, and I enjoy her. I think she's hilarious and bawdy and gorgeous. Anyway, the show was a bigger disaster than <i>Glitter</i>. Nobody but me cared about it, and at one point a twink demanded that we play Ariana Grande. Also, I was booed when I did trivia questions that had a trick answer. Mariah does not have a middle name, although Wikipedia says it's Angela for some reason.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-PzUS8zMN-yYrNh7toyecb0M8Ds4ey0Idph5DXSma2uGZ8gYTC7fBdkwBldZFK6Bf5jDaWmlAbAUYFFjkC49hpzbl2hOifZT42AxyHCpLSpYhADHPHb3cICtOrR774csCWwdRrFNFzR1h/s1600/sinareunion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-PzUS8zMN-yYrNh7toyecb0M8Ds4ey0Idph5DXSma2uGZ8gYTC7fBdkwBldZFK6Bf5jDaWmlAbAUYFFjkC49hpzbl2hOifZT42AxyHCpLSpYhADHPHb3cICtOrR774csCWwdRrFNFzR1h/s320/sinareunion.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
I reunited with my friend Sina!! She came back from L.A. for a weekend and didn't even tell me! And she got me a Red Bull! The same day that I did the aforementioned Regis gig, we ate at Alma with our mutual friend Jack. Everything there is so healthy! Like, everything is kale. I had a salad and a spritzer. Sina said I lost weight and asked if I was okay and I made ridiculously transparent small talk about California. #deflection<br />
<br />
I only accidentally killed Jack and myself three times while driving us around Minneapolis. We stopped at Twin Cities Leather & Latte, where a man decided to read <i>Lavender</i> magazine out loud and let the entire establishment know his disdain for everything that was offered in the magazine. I was annoyed by his negativity.<br />
<br />
Being around the open sexuality of a sex-themed coffee shop awakened me. "I'm going to have a slut phase in 2017," I declared when we got back in the car.<br />
"Why not start now?" Jack smiled, and I hugged him for a little bit longer than I should have. The woman next to us in the parking lot smiled. Baby steps.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
I lost my wallet for the 8,150th time and this was a week after I thought I had lost it when it was really on the stove and Joey told me to at least put all my duplicate ID's somewhere safe. It was stolen at The 19 on a Tuesday. I am most alarmed about why I went to The 19, because it was 1 AM and my friend Chris was over and he doesn't even drink and there was plenty of booze in the house. I have become so much more impulsive lately.<br />
<br />
We were still able to have our Christmas party, and it was a highlight of my year. It was just me, Loretta, Greta (rhyming!), Jared, Joey, Reid, and Steve ... and it was all I needed. Every other present was alcohol-related. Jared gave us all peach candles so we can find the joy of re-gifting.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/QfvqWKP45iA/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/QfvqWKP45iA?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
Friends of mine had unbearable tragedy. Steve, Loretta and I went to the fundraiser at LUSH. Our community takes care of our own, gosh darn it.<br />
<br />
It put things in perspective because I really have nothing to complain about, and yet I think this was the most difficult year of my adult life (not counting the year I was 20 and majorly suicidal and then transferred to a college out East at the last second. Is "majorly" a word?). I can't blame anybody else for it, either. There comes a time when you realize that the common denominator in all your interpersonal conflicts might be ... (gasp) ... <i>You.</i><br />
<br />
I don't want to make excuses -- if I was an on-looker, I would wonder what the hell was wrong with this person who is amongst the oldest of his group but is somehow the least mature, who starts screaming in the street at 2:45 A.M., who camps at his mother's for a month in lieu of solving conflict, who is being sued for a third of his income and spends all his money on Ketel One, who couldn't appreciate anything and spent too much time and energy worried about the stupid shit.<br />
<br />
I don't ask anyone to understand. I just hope people know how fucking exhausting it was.<br />
<br />
New Year's Eve is coming up. It's my third favorite day of the year if you count Pride weekend as one big long day (which it kind of is, no?). 2016 was my year of going nuts, and maybe 2017 will be the year of standing back up.<br />
<br />
Then again, I'll be 31 ....<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
jakeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05687321925107280139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757619093854217193.post-77996476989558954502016-10-25T16:35:00.000-07:002020-07-30T12:11:08.068-07:00Loring Park Episode #65: Garbage Person Dumpster FireIt took 65 episodes, but I officially became the Vicki Gunvalson of <i>Loring Park.</i> I am not the star of this fake show anymore. I am the maligned villain who thinks she's all that and a bag of Fritos.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm_WtjqfRzRwv0Zyv6sQzEQ7mKXm-J-H0uLO4epBolpbpy_Iwtl46s-21lE7QSLtF7b_fAXNj0fJe-Yij7iJqqk92_pfFQzMZ4jcyIdNuk8BsaSLud0N3OtXBHroE2auHVrbE597-BdcVc/s1600/youareapieceoftrash.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm_WtjqfRzRwv0Zyv6sQzEQ7mKXm-J-H0uLO4epBolpbpy_Iwtl46s-21lE7QSLtF7b_fAXNj0fJe-Yij7iJqqk92_pfFQzMZ4jcyIdNuk8BsaSLud0N3OtXBHroE2auHVrbE597-BdcVc/s400/youareapieceoftrash.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
In the past, I have written about other people, whether they wanted me to or not, and when they treated me wrongly I called them out. So it is only fair, dear reader, to divulge that in the past month I turned into a full-on garbage person. I cannot present myself as a perfect bastion of innocence who everyone is trampling on for no reason at all. The truth is far from that, children! I turned 30 and evolved into an anxiety-ridden, possessed demon.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisO-hWj_vySur8xigQ3qH2OoXK1cZnKoHTb1E5FvyetCyUe4gx3C-45WAgEklxWjae1GLejoPN3Okmv8JOyIbP3dO5NaipNA1wcNRQGuoG12lHiqPCHefiWlbpPkrbxMfjOj7zl_wAb5tM/s1600/fuckingmonster.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisO-hWj_vySur8xigQ3qH2OoXK1cZnKoHTb1E5FvyetCyUe4gx3C-45WAgEklxWjae1GLejoPN3Okmv8JOyIbP3dO5NaipNA1wcNRQGuoG12lHiqPCHefiWlbpPkrbxMfjOj7zl_wAb5tM/s400/fuckingmonster.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I told my friend Tanya about it and she said not to worry because she puts her dumpster fire status on full display. Then I combined the two and decided I was a Garbage Person Dumpster Fire.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0wMzdumEXMchH02wjaR2uepSbYPyX7v5MUO0xmUDY62Dgwh7oHe3GFUkTvQ9UmmhyphenhyphenPKk34R9iyUDakW1orM3OwAi6968iD9jpJlKQFcwWqQXEyYrLmYRqG1GZiFMxonNXarVEfgEn9M_e/s1600/trashbag.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0wMzdumEXMchH02wjaR2uepSbYPyX7v5MUO0xmUDY62Dgwh7oHe3GFUkTvQ9UmmhyphenhyphenPKk34R9iyUDakW1orM3OwAi6968iD9jpJlKQFcwWqQXEyYrLmYRqG1GZiFMxonNXarVEfgEn9M_e/s400/trashbag.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
In no particular order, here are the horrible things I have done in the past month and a half:<br />
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Made comments in a group setting that I thought were <i>hilarious</i> but instead were hurtful</li>
<li>On the way to The Saloon for the <i>RuPaul's Drag Race</i> viewing party, I pet a stray dog and realized I somehow stepped in his shit and had dog shit all over my hand. I wanted to run home to wash my hands, but my companion insisted we just stop at Target instead. This would be an apt metaphor, because when our large group got back to the house, I <i>really</i> stepped in shit. I had an impromptu private conversation with somebody in my bathroom. Unfortunately, I have no inside voice despite the sink and the fan running, and everyone and their dog heard it (and whether or not the conversation even needed to happen is up for internal debate). <i>You're an asshole,</i> said a third party in a broken voice, and we did not speak for ten days, ten days of constipation in which I saw their birthday and alma mater everywhere and even watched an HBO show where a character had the same obscure last name. It was not a good stretch of time.</li>
<li>Made passive-aggressive Facebook posts whose subjects were open to interpretation</li>
<li>Told a woman my brother was interested in all about our tumultuous teenage years</li>
<li>Locked my keys in the car twice and then lost them again for the 87th time</li>
</ul>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Now, let's put our thinking caps together. What could possibly be the common thread in all of these events?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrxnppyXaUr5gVCeY0o4kKOB5jK5f_J0wMzD6MuMyU0K6fdFoLSHUvh0A4u66Iwn7BU3cE4OSCpMMl1gRYLSIHCBbu0Os4asR275EPHgD4qoO1LIt6n8LTxqfNiqzFqeKVslWyh5Z5bt6r/s1600/anxiety.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrxnppyXaUr5gVCeY0o4kKOB5jK5f_J0wMzD6MuMyU0K6fdFoLSHUvh0A4u66Iwn7BU3cE4OSCpMMl1gRYLSIHCBbu0Os4asR275EPHgD4qoO1LIt6n8LTxqfNiqzFqeKVslWyh5Z5bt6r/s640/anxiety.gif" width="640" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
Well, okay, but if we're gonna be a little less self-victimizing, the other answer is ...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4UmfGQwEMWFHyy2AqbcHJBtLd-D9dyITx2hmAThiAOC6vQ0GAz9QSiAPlf-MI32FxVFHAbpL4R1qZ5Px_2NIeUtbDwdqs46m9trR7X7BWuM9usGHBsZGEdRE3bdEdknEnkMjwYyZuQ46t/s1600/vodka.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4UmfGQwEMWFHyy2AqbcHJBtLd-D9dyITx2hmAThiAOC6vQ0GAz9QSiAPlf-MI32FxVFHAbpL4R1qZ5Px_2NIeUtbDwdqs46m9trR7X7BWuM9usGHBsZGEdRE3bdEdknEnkMjwYyZuQ46t/s640/vodka.gif" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Vodka! Sweet and glorious vodka!<br />
<br />
And I love vodka. I love vodka on the rocks. I love vodka with lemonade. I love vodka with Sprite. I love vodka in shots full of sugar and calories. But it was becoming excessive. I searched what little of my soul there was left and decided that I needed to put a moratorium on booze. It was time for Ocsober.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWwc7qeyoq1k5dHvjrwlLh_P6yOuzJDBS5KUtt5a-vSSpj6O4c1h53ef_8yzA6d4zcM-zqLXzQhVhs7iprjFDZflXjYE6hn1O6_WKQjKl30fBtrEomHc_Y9idaM-qZGGOPN1sLZf7ws3e/s1600/stopdrinking.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioWwc7qeyoq1k5dHvjrwlLh_P6yOuzJDBS5KUtt5a-vSSpj6O4c1h53ef_8yzA6d4zcM-zqLXzQhVhs7iprjFDZflXjYE6hn1O6_WKQjKl30fBtrEomHc_Y9idaM-qZGGOPN1sLZf7ws3e/s400/stopdrinking.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
It was October 4th and I could go until Halloween weekend without a drop. It would be hard, but I could do it! When I hosted at the '90s, Tim could make delicious Shirley Temples or anything else that you put Sprite and grenadine with. I could still have sugar! My skin would clear up, my waist would get smaller, and I would stop destroying all of my interpersonal relationships.<br />
<br />
I read articles about how to stop drinking for a limited time. They said to tell a lot of people because then you are held more accountable, and that the first week will be the hardest and the last week will be the easiest.<br />
<br />
I lasted three days.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSg19LPCR65uQhO5sRefiKkmhAZujnqVVZOmtQQBf-FwGcEJEmvS1-nk-SXXdoTbowNeqwp52KHCq3ojSLpJSPBckOM_EV1WFW9-UWpXyWtQpFpcIN4I2vmZalXijkNF5DK3x3aGF6Aeqh/s1600/michellegirl.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSg19LPCR65uQhO5sRefiKkmhAZujnqVVZOmtQQBf-FwGcEJEmvS1-nk-SXXdoTbowNeqwp52KHCq3ojSLpJSPBckOM_EV1WFW9-UWpXyWtQpFpcIN4I2vmZalXijkNF5DK3x3aGF6Aeqh/s400/michellegirl.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Wait, wait. I have a half-assed explanation.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVbyVInv8QoLmg38r0Vi4qqWEBGZAfRigZTifynTFM-mIez3e98E9F7YvYETySqfGu9HTOBUOHZwcRuJuKghDf6wSyDdViTUphQRjkBh9tGFiNGQZFSvv8xLRgjbUo59UywZW5_17fMf6r/s1600/youaregarbage.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVbyVInv8QoLmg38r0Vi4qqWEBGZAfRigZTifynTFM-mIez3e98E9F7YvYETySqfGu9HTOBUOHZwcRuJuKghDf6wSyDdViTUphQRjkBh9tGFiNGQZFSvv8xLRgjbUo59UywZW5_17fMf6r/s320/youaregarbage.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
We were all at The Saloon for the <i>RuPaul's Drag Race </i>viewing party. I told people I wasn't drinking. "But you're horrible sober," someone said. "How will we understand you when you're not slurring everything?" At the end of the show, we were all standing in a group: Me, the usual suspects, and our friends including Carter, who is born in the mid-to-late '90s and is blonde with dimples and a really good body. Did I mention I was feeling anxious about situations that I may or may not have created in my own head? Okay.<br />
<br />
This older man -- good-looking, though! Short but like a stacked body -- was drunk and was trying to mingle with all of us. Which is fine. I don't think we're a cliquey or snotty group. Just don't be obnoxious about it, y'know? Anyway, Joey, Reid and Steve were annoyed with him so he moved on over to me.<br />
<br />
"You're like me," he said. "You're the eccentric one."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFTgzL43V7gfFGu-7km41BciyU6N_ISZlw06_uEqbdHsWcBtwRLL_FaHX0q89cXBb5zKUNFKZfA6pD2SaeHgHpI5HTrC348FbJi1jNG8ab6OdCt1DidJu2w3Py7jCtnJBFhpGmlYk3oxu6/s1600/luannokay.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFTgzL43V7gfFGu-7km41BciyU6N_ISZlw06_uEqbdHsWcBtwRLL_FaHX0q89cXBb5zKUNFKZfA6pD2SaeHgHpI5HTrC348FbJi1jNG8ab6OdCt1DidJu2w3Py7jCtnJBFhpGmlYk3oxu6/s400/luannokay.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Well, I ... guess that's a fair snap judgment? Yes, I have the worst body in this group and I am wearing a hoodie and I am in a weird mood in which I <i>don't</i> want attention (I told y'all it was a weird month. I still went up on stage anyway throwing a plastic bag at a cute boy performing -- it makes sense if you were there. He was lip-syncing to "Firework" by Katy Perry and I happened to have a plastic bag with me because Joey and I went right to The Saloon from Nordstrom Rack. Or maybe that happened a week later. I can't remember.) But, still? I was uneasy. Was this me now? Next year? In five years. I wanted to go home and drink.<br />
<br />
"And YOU," the guy said to Carter. "You must just be the pretty one that people only hang out with because you're gorgeous."<br />
Carter smiled nervously through a smile that was tighter than his butt.<br />
"Now, that's not fair, " I said. I don't even know Carter that well, but he's always been kind to me and it was a nasty comment to make. "Carter is not just eye candy. He is also a painter and a sculptor."<br />
"Wait, what?" Carter asked. "No, I'm not."<br />
"Shhhh," I said. "Just go with it."<br />
"Wait, really?" said the creepy guy. "I own an art museum."<br />
Oh, shit. Of all the fake careers and facts I could have made up about Carter, I chose one that actually applied. This was worse than when Erin and I went to Jetset and tried to pretend we were from Seattle and the one hot guy we talked to was from there and our cover was blown.<br />
<br />
It was torrential rain outside, and Markie drove Steve, Joey and me to the house. Joey took my car to go to the liquor store. I left my phone in Markie's car and he dropped it back off. I took a shower and shaved my face because we were going to go back to The Saloon. Jared and Mitchel came over. It kept raining. We played Uno. And I got hammered.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivK88hE93h7Q5hv8eAin8gMc5XeK5OYXB-flajXbqIMv3mqzWighlKWnkjLEf2r0Ax4hcLT8zQ2Vp1aCAQPHOrvm-Cd5TdmYUTMiZSsTky8kAaVI0_BYtZWK6czgygmJGiljLUBI6jPLfv/s1600/maggiefaris.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivK88hE93h7Q5hv8eAin8gMc5XeK5OYXB-flajXbqIMv3mqzWighlKWnkjLEf2r0Ax4hcLT8zQ2Vp1aCAQPHOrvm-Cd5TdmYUTMiZSsTky8kAaVI0_BYtZWK6czgygmJGiljLUBI6jPLfv/s1600/maggiefaris.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Not all was awful in the past few weeks. The hilarious <a href="http://extrememaggie.com/">Maggie Faris</a> took me on the road with her to Eau Claire to perform at The Plus! I got to be off that Saturday, so first I went to LUSH to play bingo with my friend John from the '90s. I didn't win.<br />
<br />
I was sure to be ready on time, because lesbians are punctual! They also drive like demons, because we were in and out of Eau Claire in record time. The crowd was older than I anticipated because it was homecoming weekend, but the show went great and I was able to mingle with friends from Stout who I hadn't seen in nearly ten years!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga9Lt8_6sKHSAIVhim5DuRH6ZJ1HyLryG9nBXonjImxc6hAskhqlRUD8W9oelLmlkOruiK39PYn2Hl7Gn_4lqQkBmOIWn_ad2AWdfQ6Tf5tl7gU4VHdyTC1Ihd-nkc0IuyklBGUYQfp7dl/s1600/samstanke.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga9Lt8_6sKHSAIVhim5DuRH6ZJ1HyLryG9nBXonjImxc6hAskhqlRUD8W9oelLmlkOruiK39PYn2Hl7Gn_4lqQkBmOIWn_ad2AWdfQ6Tf5tl7gU4VHdyTC1Ihd-nkc0IuyklBGUYQfp7dl/s320/samstanke.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Maggie and I drove back and I brought her to The Saloon, where she was more popular than I was. She did lament the lack of females there, but, like ... fuck. It's The Saloon.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUMut1vN3oJ-8-6may5ZTruzA1iF1dTfcthhFEKDm-ipLnltyHfcyZ3B1xhzYNdCF54U2E35rMvdy5DwuCgHPgHGYlTFXsU3-KJPQ3FStS0O2oWn9eV6Id9KKRthjnQ-b4OWTTqyWL2MJV/s1600/trisha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUMut1vN3oJ-8-6may5ZTruzA1iF1dTfcthhFEKDm-ipLnltyHfcyZ3B1xhzYNdCF54U2E35rMvdy5DwuCgHPgHGYlTFXsU3-KJPQ3FStS0O2oWn9eV6Id9KKRthjnQ-b4OWTTqyWL2MJV/s400/trisha.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Year in review</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
A week later, Reid and I went to karaoke on a Tuesday, where I serenaded the crowd with "What A Man" by Salt 'n' Pepa. It was a good time and laughter and deep conversations were had.<br />
<br />
And the next morning, we were at Stage Four Nuclear Meltdown all over again. I don't even fucking know. It was 7 A.M. I left the house to drive in my car and scream, and then I came back and tried falling back asleep, but I couldn't, and my heart was going to fall out of my chest. I debated going to a free counselor at a walk-in clinic, but I had to work at 2 and the earliest I would be seen was 1 and I am still new in my job and I didn't really want to tell my new manager, <i>Hi, I'm gonna be late because I'm going crazy but I'll see you at 2:45!, </i>so I sucked it up and even went to work early. In my half hour of down time, I got a call from a study I am participating in saying that I had an STI, even though no one has been back there since the Stone Age.<br />
<i><br /></i>
I clocked into work and didn't need to be around anybody for two hours, which was a nice bonus. I could do this! I clued in Reid that I was not feeling awesome. At 4 PM I reported to my work station, where I am to smile and greet customers and take care of things. I couldn't stop pacing.<br />
<br />
"Are you okay?" asked a co-worker.<br />
"No," I heard myself say.<br />
"Do you want to come to the back with me?" asked another co-worker who has turned into my Work Mom.<br />
"Uh-huh," I said in the distance.<br />
<br />
She told me to go get water from the espresso bar. I started stirring my straw furiously. The loss prevention agent asked if I was okay. I was silently tearful at this point. I said no but I told him it had nothing to do with work (customers are, like, <i>nice</i> to me in this job). He politely encouraged me to go upstairs to the Human Resources office. It was like school. I walked the escalator up three floors and walked by Reid, who saw the whole thing but was with a customer.<br />
<br />
The HR lady sat me in a private office. Oh my god. We officially have a crying room.<br />
<br />
"It's not work," I kept saying. "I'm fine. I'm fine."<br />
"Shhhh," she kept saying. "Breathe. Anxiety is physical. You have to ride this out."<br />
I looked around nervously. "This has been going on for a while," I said.<br />
"Should we call your mom?" she asked.<br />
"My mom is on vacation," I sobbed. "And she deserves it! I've drained her out of so much money."<br />
"Do you live with your mom?" she asked.<br />
"No," I said. I don't think the HR lady knows I'm 30!<br />
"I'm gonna leave and shut the blinds," she said. "And I don't want you to do <i>any thinking."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Half an hour later, she snuck me a bag of animal crackers. Having a nervous breakdown at work is a lot like having a nervous breakdown at daycare.<br />
<br />
The situation would repeat itself the next night at The Saloon. The Saloon! My safest, happiest, place. I can't go anywhere anymore! I was talking down a friend from the proverbial ledge and maybe I took on his feelings after our conversation ended, because after I was done wiping his tears away and sent him to the dance floor, I saw another friend was holding hands with one of my eight million crushes, and my brain went snap-crackle-pop. Why was <i>this</i> the catalyst?? It makes absolutely no sense. It's not like they were making out or banging each other on the table, and even if they were, it would have been their right! (Well, maybe not the banging on the table thing because of laws about that stuff, but they could have gone home to bang) The bouncers were very sweet and gave me Sprite and even asked if I wanted to sit in the office. Tim let me stay at his place. I lost my keys and my left shoe. Also, Tim has a gorgeous apartment and I should have gone into bar tending.<br />
<br />
My shoe was retrieved, but my keys never were, so I had to walk of shame it to my leasing office, which was thankfully in the North Loop (Tim is in the adjacent Warehouse District). There is nothing to re-iterate your newfound trash box status like walk of shaming it in the North Loop, past all of the salons and expensive brunch places and condos you will never be able to afford. I debated telling the leasing company a whopper of a lie (I got mugged! But only my keys!), but decided to just be honest to the beautiful young woman behind the counter.<br />
<br />
"I had an ... episode last night and lost my keys," I said.<br />
She found out who my agent was and told me to wait. "Would you like some coffee or water?" she pleasantly asked.<br />
<i>Go big or go home. </i>"Coffee with a LOT of sugar, please," I said. They had a black lab in the office that made everything better. If I ever get my money right and my own, bigger place, I am getting a labrador.<br />
<br />
The leasing agent came in shortly after with my keys (and news of a $50 deposit). "Everything going okay?" he asked.<br />
"Oh, well ..." I began.<br />
"...With the house?" he was sure to clarify.<br />
"Oh, just great," I said.<br />
<br />
I then stopped at The Saloon for a cocktail. My phone was going to die and my charger was in my car so I bought one of those boost charger things, although St. Loretta made plans to come over to get me a new car key. I felt bad because Johnny was the bartender and he was one of the first people that I told I was doing Oscober (and we know how that went). Nina DiAngelo, out of drag, was putting up Halloween decorations. A handsome 40-year-old from Orlando was there and Johnny and I told him where to go every night as far as the club scene. An athletic man of the same age sat by me but only ordered a water with cherries and said he was kicked out of an earlier restaurant. He later told me his husband was cheating on him and wanted an open relationship. I told him monogamy is not for everyone but both partners need to be on the same page or it's a deal-breaker. An elderly gay couple told me I was cute. You find your people when you're day drinking.<br />
<br />
I took an Uber to the government office (I lost my ID on a different night, for the 87th time) and got in touch with St. Loretta, who was beyond annoyed but made plans to deliver a car key to my house. I cried all the way on the walk home and made awkward eye contact with handsome young lawyers. None of them asked what was wrong and for my hand in marriage, but a boy could dream.<br />
<br />
<i>Maybe you should get sober</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>You will make a better atmosphere for everyone</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I am trying to help you help me</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Sobriety = Rehab<br />
<br />
Rehab = Going far away<br />
<br />
Going far away = Never coming back<br />
<br />
Never coming back = I would miss everyone<br />
<br />
It was a lot to think about.<br />
<br />
I made plans to go to her house later and then went to my appointment at Planned Parenthood. They were busy! 7 PM on a Friday night at "the clinic" is apparently the place to be. They asked if Joey was still my emergency contact and he had been upsetting me all week, so I let out a big "Awwwwwwwwwwwww. Yessssssssssssssssss." and the lady behind the counter nervously smiled.<br />
<br />
I decided to get tested for everything. Considering I probably got an STI from a sex dream, one could never be too careful.<br />
<br />
"A lot of girls would kill to be your weight," said the nurse.<br />
"I almost did," I replied. She politely laughed and then I drank the antibiotic-in-a-cup that tastes like sidewalk chalk.<br />
<br />
Things got back to normal in the next few days. I was lucky enough to participate in the 10,000 Laughs Festival. My show was at the new Royal Comedy Theater in Hopkins. Even my brother came! It has the fanciest green room I have ever seen in my life. Basically, it's like a kitchenette with a stocked fridge and food and it felt like I was in the <i>Big Brother</i> house. I was especially excited to see Tiffany Norton (a.k.a. Bangs from KS95) again, because she's one of the first people I met doing comedy and I always gravitated toward the ladies.<br />
<br />
After the show, we met with people from the city who were thrilled that Hopkins has a comedy club. "We've wanted to do this forever," a lady said.<br />
"I love this downtown," Tiffany said. "It's like Edina."<br />
"Don't say that!" the lady cried. "We'll never be Edina!"<br />
"No, I just mean the architecture," Tiffany clarified. "I used to work for a construction company."<br />
The Hopkins natives invited us for drinks, but we had to go previous social obligations. I kind of felt snobby about it.<br />
<br />
Dane and I drove to Plymouth to my friend Lee's house, where he was having a neon-themed party! I didn't own anything neon, so we all just threw neon headbands at each other. It was fun until we played "I Have Never" because I have the sex life of a nun and always feel inadequate about myself playing that game (I spent my prime years living with my parents having emotional affairs on the Internet), and someone divulged that they had sex on someone's blanket, and the owner of the blanket <span style="font-size: large;">STARTED SHOUTING IN VERY HIGH DECIBELS</span> and if I had the money I would have just ordered him a new blanket from Amazon right then and there. Dane was a very good sport during all the gay sex talk, though. I think he was less fazed than I was!<br />
<br />
I still had a good time as Lee is always a gracious host. I left my 10,000 Laughs t-shirt there. Of course I did. They even spelled my name right.<br />
<br />
The next day, Steve and I went to Spring Street Tavern where all the comics were having brunch! We got there late (which was my fault -- shocking, I know), so we just sat at the bar and had bloody Marys because I was driving and needed something to sip. Tiffany hung out with us and later she met us at LUSH along with David Harris. Then we went to the mall so Steve could find last minute outfits for his upcoming trip to Hawaii, and my quest for dress pants was fruitless. I literally only bought Chap Stick. It was a sad day in the world of retail.<br />
<br />
That night, I did my '90s hosting gig (where I beat Steve at darts in a miracle of miracles) and we were back at The Saloon. Joey reneged on coming to the '90s but made it to The Saloon and he explained that extenuating circumstances were making him act differently than usual, and I understood it. Then Sexy Jesus bought me a shot. Hallelujah.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Steve was gone for a week and I didn't know what to do with myself! It's not like we hang out all the time -- I'm kind of like a whiny mosquito -- but who would listen to me repeat the same 50 stories over and over? Thankfully, my work schedule didn't leave much room for partying, and I stayed at my parents' at least one of those nights. That Friday night, Joey and I went to <a href="http://mansionmpls.com/">Mansion!</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_QDcoiRzV1HQgCZsk35M-L0irC0o-wgGuNBG8osJemLSJ1rvhGmDEqKjRyDrpsZGTOXCtB-US7thSaR0CNLQcmX38z_lUQqH_BhI8Q9hgSkXBXd0iCIkFDKvGSAI7GcZ7_391fF_Ihlm-/s1600/mansion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_QDcoiRzV1HQgCZsk35M-L0irC0o-wgGuNBG8osJemLSJ1rvhGmDEqKjRyDrpsZGTOXCtB-US7thSaR0CNLQcmX38z_lUQqH_BhI8Q9hgSkXBXd0iCIkFDKvGSAI7GcZ7_391fF_Ihlm-/s320/mansion.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He only want me when I'm not there<br />He better call Joey with the good hair</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
We were nervous because we read so much about the dress code and I've read about people being turned away at the door, but I think if you wear black shoes, you're fine (also, Joey graciously let me borrow a sport coat). Also, be sure to go in the regular line and not the bottle service line. I still had my yellow papers from my lost ID but the bouncer was cool. "I don't need that shit, Jacob," he said good-naturedly.<br />
<br />
Y'all, Mansion is fancy! We met a friend of Joey's who later lamented that she was turned down by Ricky Rubio. "I even spoke Spanish," she pouted.<br />
"You already have a boyfriend," I said. "You were just talking about how hot he is."<br />
"But it's <i>Ricky Rubiooooo,"</i> she whined.<br />
<br />
We walked to The Saloon where Joey talked to his hot and ripped neighbor, and across the bar I saw the boy who broke the heart of the boy who broke my heart, and I kind of got it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/PspqaLsXCLs/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/PspqaLsXCLs?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<br />
(Sometimes you just need some Stevie)<br />
<br />
Work at my regular job is steady. Wish I had more gigs but I have to get myself out there more often and no one is gonna do that for me.<br />
<br />
I'm working on a book.<br />
<br />
I think my Rogaine is working and I am currently less than my drivers' license weight.<br />
<br />
I'm trying to have adult conversations about things.<br />
<br />
Not everything is about me.<br />
<br />
Talk is cheap, though. It's your actions that people will truly remember you by. I can only hope that I would be remembered as a good person instead of a garbage person dumpster fire, but I have no control over that shit. As long as they spell my name right in the yearbook, I'm good. It's Emmert, not Emmret.<br />
<br />
<i>Next week: Our Halloween episode! Scarier than me without make-up!</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />jakeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05687321925107280139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757619093854217193.post-59931296576674896342016-09-22T13:44:00.002-07:002020-07-30T12:11:19.994-07:00Loring Park Episode #64: No Sex and the City<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/dGE7H7Clqxo/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/dGE7H7Clqxo?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
I had no idea what to call this episode. I was going to call it <i><a href="http://newyorkjakey.blogspot.com/">Adrift in New York,</a></i> which is my blog from when I lived in New York NINE YEARS AGO (we'll get to that later). Then I thought something cheesy like<i> New York State of a Crazy Mind</i>, <i>New York Minute (of Agony)</i> or Y<i>ou Can't Go Home Again</i>. Maybe I'll change it before I finish, I don't know.<br />
<br />
We were going for Joey's birthday, and I am the poor irresponsible friend and he basically subsidized my entire trip. It was an amazing time and I fell in love with the city all over again! Most displeasure I had was entirely my own fault. I had been a tightly wound ball of anxiety <i>before</i> the trip, about things that were really stupid, and I was worried that the trip would only exacerbate these worries.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdIQ2TFEyjFOrazo0sTY5i-_iFUUeoKHTrff6EMJFYBao7JspRm_LG0jQZIPD4sycBFqX8iHxH-ao0pP-nDn6TKjfu6RG3M5KgAiyp0QBs6z7eKUu0NZ1jazUFD6TYKbVf1DJW_5d7B5Vg/s1600/leslieknope.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdIQ2TFEyjFOrazo0sTY5i-_iFUUeoKHTrff6EMJFYBao7JspRm_LG0jQZIPD4sycBFqX8iHxH-ao0pP-nDn6TKjfu6RG3M5KgAiyp0QBs6z7eKUu0NZ1jazUFD6TYKbVf1DJW_5d7B5Vg/s1600/leslieknope.gif" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
As we talked about last week, something snapped in my brain when it turned 30 and it hasn't been put together yet. In Minneapolis, I am disgusting but I am D-list famous if I am at The Saloon and occasionally at The 19 -- depending who is there -- so I don't have to worry about not getting attention. In New York, I was going to be with Joey (who looks like a model), Steve (who is masculine and laid-back, two things I AM VERY MUCH NOT), James and Marco (who are a happy and drama-free couple), and Barney (who is older, handsome and just doesn't give a shit). I had convinced myself that I was a hideous troll and no strangers would want to talk to me the entire time. Nobody told me this, by the way; in fact, Joey and my friend Angie had tried to convince me otherwise. But it was in my head. I am not sexually active. Sex is currency. I am not having sex with anyone and therefore I have no value. Also, I had never hung out with everyone as a group before, and I didn't know what the dynamic was going to be like. Do I leave when the party starts? Should I find a nice older man to bring me to Staten Island?<br />
<br />
The first snafu happened the night before the trip! I was going to to hit up the '90s to cheer on Autumn Vixxen in the amateur contest with Woody, who was back in town for just a few days, but Joey was on his way over and Steve had gone to the 19. Joey finally arrived after midnight (it took forever for him to find a parking space that would last him until Monday), and we played darts at the 19, where I reunited with man about town Todd O'Dowd. We got home at bar close and had about two hours of rest before hitting the airport. Joey and I had a flight that left at 8 AM, and Steve and his crew were on a flight that left a little bit later. Also, Joey and I had a layover at O'Hare and the other group was flying direct. The plan was that we would meet at Barney's apartment in Eagan and a car service would bring us all to the airport. This is what I was told.<br />
<br />
Again, I spent a better deal of the trip with horrific NYC flashbacks. Nine years ago I transferred to Brooklyn College. I was incredibly depressed and had been suicidal my entire sophomore year, and this transfer came out of nowhere. I was going in completely blind. My mother and I weren't even speaking to each other, yet she was flying with me in August of 2007 to help me move and get settled in (to the expensive apartment that she was paying for, yet I couldn't appreciate anything at that point). This was the Monday after the 35W bridge collapsed. We missed the flight and had to go on stand-by. It was not a good time.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I was convinced we were going to miss the flight and that I was cursed. We got to Barney's apartment on time and he didn't answer the door right away. When he let us in, he was going through his beauty routine and we were watching Season 5 of <i>RuPaul's Drag Race</i>. He graciously made me a Screwdriver to assuage my nerves.<br />
<br />
And then the clock ticked. And ticked. And ticked.<br />
<br />
And now we have been there for half an hour and nobody feels like moving and our plane is leaving in 90 minutes and my mother has always told me to be at the airport at least two hours early and Barney is still in the bathroom.<br />
<br />
"Calm down," Joey had said. "We'll make the flight. Stop worrying."<br />
"Is Barney coming?" I asked Steve.<br />
Steve rolled his eyes. "I don't know," he said. <i>"You</i> ask him."<br />
<br />
Children, the combination of anxiety, lack of sleep and the possibility of missing a flight had pushed a button!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNU9TNKd1blGSYDo9WP-hlP1h2fOEAiuEy514bIIefXuSLZ8i0iTVg2WQ1Ch6NKkCAz-oe-rmViDbC1CbeaDpwo2c0JhxWjpYn0d9mY1Ef1KcGrQ38rEBmQA8Y2r03HybzKcReJ8Clmc_G/s1600/bigangwtf.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNU9TNKd1blGSYDo9WP-hlP1h2fOEAiuEy514bIIefXuSLZ8i0iTVg2WQ1Ch6NKkCAz-oe-rmViDbC1CbeaDpwo2c0JhxWjpYn0d9mY1Ef1KcGrQ38rEBmQA8Y2r03HybzKcReJ8Clmc_G/s400/bigangwtf.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
I went from 0 to 100.<br />
<br />
"Barney, are we leaving yet?" I asked.<br />
"We're leaving in ten minutes," he said.<br />
"YOU SAID THAT TEN MINUTES AGO!!!!" I shrieked. "THIS IS BULLSHIT!!!"<br />
"Fuck you!" Barney yelled. "Don't you come into my house and speak to me like that!"<br />
"We're getting an Uber," I snapped at Joey, and I stormed out of the apartment.<br />
<br />
Two minutes later, I texted Barney apologizing for my actions. I didn't want him to be mad at me the entire trip! I had the right to be anxious and upset, but not to scream and swear at anybody. I tried explaining that I was under a very different impression of how our morning plans were to be conducted. He agreed. With that bullet now dodged, we were on our way to the airport, where we got on our plane ten minutes before boarding ended.<br />
<br />
We landed in Chicago and I was still stewing. "I have to let it go," I said. "Don't hold your breath if you're waiting for an apology from Steve Howell. You'll pass out."<br />
<br />
Immediately after I said that, my phone beeped and it was Steve saying he was sorry and that they made their flight just fine. Well, then. I wrote and deleted a response about 12 times and decided to leave my anger in Chicago. We had landed and that was all that mattered.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
We landed at LaGuardia and Joey had paid for a shuttle from the airport to the hotel. I wanted to tell him shuttles never work (I paid for a SuperShuttle when I first visited Brooklyn and it was a big scam), but he had already bought it and it had also been nine years since I had been here! I was no longer some expert at New York City life. Anyway, the shuttle dropped us off at 42nd and Bryant, and our hotel was on 51st and 3rd. We waited forever in the Manhattan heat for this mystery second shuttle that was supposed to drop us off at the hotel. In the minute we debated walking, we got on what we believed was to be our shuttle.<br />
<br />
Now, I had been a little rusty with my NYC geography -- especially Manhattan -- but I knew something was off when the numbers were descending instead of ascending. Maybe we were pulling a U-turn at some point?<br />
<br />
Then we were by Madison Square Garden which is on 34th, and that wasn't right. Then a transit authority agent started asking us for tickets, and people without tickets were gladly paying $35 cash. Wait, what?<br />
<br />
The burly ticket-taker finally got to us. "Where is this shuttle going?" I asked.<br />
"Newark Airport," he gruffly said.<br />
"Yeah, we're on the wrong shuttle," I said. Good God! We almost ended up in Jersey!<br />
<br />
He let us leave without incident and a kind angel of a woman let me know that I had dropped my phone. I did not lose ANYTHING this trip and it is a goddamn miracle. They say Los Angeles is the city of angels, but I say it's New York.<br />
<br />
Joey and I got off the bus and looked up the never-ending street.<br />
<br />
"I think we can walk," Joey said gamely. 20 blocks later, we were fine with our decision.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-AbVwkrxlz3FEXG8GqL_9Axoh_GeS_bBTzAEdID0-FM-Xmpi6Z2rDNE5GPoejiH_joK6BVsv0jX8csOQHidW6WVW-Q5Ae0-E0OjZzEcaO_8yBT_noDP1grh5UxCJCiHAmjgomZtGvt6ci/s1600/podhotel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-AbVwkrxlz3FEXG8GqL_9Axoh_GeS_bBTzAEdID0-FM-Xmpi6Z2rDNE5GPoejiH_joK6BVsv0jX8csOQHidW6WVW-Q5Ae0-E0OjZzEcaO_8yBT_noDP1grh5UxCJCiHAmjgomZtGvt6ci/s320/podhotel.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
We stayed at <a href="http://www.thepodhotel.com/">The Pod 51</a> hotel, and I couldn't recommend it enough! Our room was like a dorm room. That was why Joey kept asking if I wanted to be the top or the bottom all week! Every floor had four water closets/bathrooms, and the best one was room #3 because it had faucets right where your ass goes. It might not be for everyone, but I was totally fine with this arrangement. We weren't going to be in the room very much, and I could pretend that Joey and I were besties at college. He could be a film major and I could be a theater major waiting for my BIG BREAK even though I can't sing or dance.<br />
<br />
We planned on meeting up with the boys at a <i>RuPaul's Drag Race</i> viewing party at Boxers Hell's Kitchen. All of us were convinced the show started at 9 -- yay for Eastern Time television viewing! I checked my Grindr even though I knew I wasn't getting laid, and then I checked my newly re-installed Scruff even though I don't think I've ever been woofed at once on Scruff. Thank goodness I did, because there was an ad on the bottom that said that <i>RuPaul's Drag Race </i>was on at 8/7 central this year. What???? I frantically texted Steve and Barney and made sure they changed their plans. We went to a ramen place where I had sake for the first and last time, and stopped at Duane Reade where there were no Fleet enemas. This island must have been full of bottoms.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I think the viewing party might have been the highlight of my trip. It was impossible to get a drink because the small bar was PACKED, but there is nothing like a Drag Race viewing party in a different city. Joey and I got there during the entrances so we missed some of them, but it was almost like watching wrestling when we gauged the audience reaction. Phi Phi got silence, and Adore Delano by far got the biggest "pop", as they say in the biz (which made her departure all the more of a bummer ...). Steve said sorry<i> again</i> about the plane thing and I would have hugged him but didn't want to be mushy in public.<br />
<br />
Joey and I finagled our way downstairs and it took me forever to get a drink, but a trio of gays enjoyed my "What Are You Doing Here Without Dorinda?" shirt. At one point we were next to the most beautiful man I HAVE EVER SEEN, who was wearing a broski snapback and a baseball jersey. I didn't get his name but I did ask him what he thought was going to happen. I forgot his prediction because I was lost in his blue eyes.<br />
<br />
Anyway, after the show ended, Boxers completely cleared out and I don't even remember what we did for the rest of the night. We must have gone somewhere because I do remember spending about three times as much as I planned on, and I was already on a limited, Loretta-subsidized budget while on my Joey-subsidized trip. I don't deserve anything I receive, really.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
The next <strike>morning </strike>afternoon, Joey was perturbed because I slept until 2 P.M.! I think sleeping in on your first day is integral to your vacation. Also, I don't think I slept at all after that the entire weekend, but that's a different story. Joey had already had breakfast and lunch and certainly wasn't about to get dinner by himself.<br />
<br />
I think the other group was doing more tourist-y stuff (no shame in that game), so Joey and I did our own version of sight-seeing. My two favorite things about New York -- the ferris wheel at Toys 'R' Us and SPLASH NYC -- are long gone, so my list was considerably shorter.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsBtOvlJ3D998hmo4PGuRDYJ9acNmMClKv23WN7s88xuPRaYUrx4TdvbA7j5DhSvHzYi7L4pnV1QcoJZGJoLjsn7K6pkKnHSR5DNGwffbhEETiD8PW_1zlVYj6RD2Xk9i6VhuXW3g4Ae7H/s1600/limerickhouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsBtOvlJ3D998hmo4PGuRDYJ9acNmMClKv23WN7s88xuPRaYUrx4TdvbA7j5DhSvHzYi7L4pnV1QcoJZGJoLjsn7K6pkKnHSR5DNGwffbhEETiD8PW_1zlVYj6RD2Xk9i6VhuXW3g4Ae7H/s320/limerickhouse.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
This place used to be called The Limerick House and it was the first time I ever performed stand-up comedy, in October 2007. The audience consisted of four other comedians. I was convinced I was going to become super famous. Nevertheless, it's the first place I ever got a comped drink, in my vodka cranberry days. On one night, I almost lost my virginity to a man from Metairie, Louisiana, the hometown of my high school Internet boyfriend. It would have been like osmosis. Across the street was a building that says "TERRI" and I took a picture of it for my friend, wrestling legend Terri Runnels.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVyAFDLUziGdG_DICs3fBZFVKV0XhtX0CtrH67DeyvQ8Pi2fMpwa7zBdDpI6dvN_yuDh4NcI_bk-lErneBBkS1EqCvNoHNX-THJUO6iDy3pnBV-9OAzFg8UzDTFpJ2OxSXhkTBDO_iX-Yl/s1600/bff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVyAFDLUziGdG_DICs3fBZFVKV0XhtX0CtrH67DeyvQ8Pi2fMpwa7zBdDpI6dvN_yuDh4NcI_bk-lErneBBkS1EqCvNoHNX-THJUO6iDy3pnBV-9OAzFg8UzDTFpJ2OxSXhkTBDO_iX-Yl/s320/bff.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
While downtown, we stopped at Zara. For everybody super excited about the Zara coming to MOA, I'm gonna tell you that I waited 20 minutes in line to buy a super cute shirt from the boys' department. I passed the time by sampling all the colognes and talking to the people next to me in line.<br />
<br />
We went to Nordstrom Rack because we always have to go to Nordstrom Rack!! I bought two t-shirts and we shamelessly flirted with the thirsty fitting room attendant (he was thirsty for Joey, not me). If I ever move back, I think I have found my new dream job. Y'all know I could do that in my sleep!<br />
<br />
We went clubbing at Industry or Therapy or both? I don't know. They go together. At one club we ran into people from Minneapolis. One of them was tall and I had to jump to hi-five him. We ran into Joey's old friend Luke, who I hadn't seen since my 29th (!) birthday party, and he was just as sweet as ever. Then we went to a club that was really crowded and there was only one bathroom and I hated it, and we left at 2:15 but then walked around Manhattan and went back in at 2:40 and maybe it was my age, or the fact that I was in this weird place between agitated and tired in part because Barney had given me medicine he takes for jet lag that is probably illegal in seven states, but it just ... <i>was not my thing.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Joey and I went back to the hotel at 4 A.M. but I couldn't sleep! I played on my phone forever, and this was the only time I felt bad about the bathrooms not being attached to the room because I think I had to get up to pee about 11 times. I took a shower out of boredom. Nothing was working. Joey finally woke up at ten and I wanted to talk about the thousands of feelings I had, feelings about feelings.<br />
<br />
"If you're not mad, then why am I still mad?" I asked. I had been mad in part because I thought Joey was mad about something and I am a quasi-empath that way.<br />
"I don't know," Joey said, half-asleep. "But get over it. Bitter doesn't look good on you."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT_rU4rqMXrngjGCjSlZ9K6j66oUIGOKzG4HH83U9WDbF5VFEh3BhjLnArQ7JIPuFWF6Y1gf3m61xvKZsg3ITockQnam3Hhj22eHLu0aVwaJdLsrVUeDZVqi6OSsiMo3X6KaAigf5LB4IY/s1600/lizred.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT_rU4rqMXrngjGCjSlZ9K6j66oUIGOKzG4HH83U9WDbF5VFEh3BhjLnArQ7JIPuFWF6Y1gf3m61xvKZsg3ITockQnam3Hhj22eHLu0aVwaJdLsrVUeDZVqi6OSsiMo3X6KaAigf5LB4IY/s400/lizred.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Bitter that I was called bitter -- ironically, in Brooklyn, at the height of my Mommy Issues, I had imagined writing a memoir called <i>So Not Bitter, </i>about how I overcame my issues and became a comedian and best-selling author and reconciled with my mother and all was well, and maybe it was just the <i>word </i>"bitter" that was such a gut-punch -- I took the 6 to the village where I reunited with my friend Rance.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3PkNbEG-O8Xw5suJbMuN7bAZUqPY22vi5vIev58pucd4tMwaAgNWkgvJOrOT8Oxxoj5h_SjS1OXnF-2rt34jfEzwvCTqNx-fY7J-9B0hGv3cwawpniCRsG1pfZe4F1IGV-sj9-Ktc6jdo/s1600/rance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3PkNbEG-O8Xw5suJbMuN7bAZUqPY22vi5vIev58pucd4tMwaAgNWkgvJOrOT8Oxxoj5h_SjS1OXnF-2rt34jfEzwvCTqNx-fY7J-9B0hGv3cwawpniCRsG1pfZe4F1IGV-sj9-Ktc6jdo/s320/rance.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I think Rance literally moved to New York like, a week after I left. Anyway, we knew each other in high school because he was in a community production with a classmate in <i>Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat</i> and it was one of those things where your friend has a gay friend and is convinced that if the two of you will meet, you will fall in love and have a lot of gay sex and get married and have three adorable kids and it's because OH MY GOD YOU ARE BOTH GAY THIS IS PERFECT.<br />
<br />
Anyway, that didn't happen. Now I like broskis and Rance likes hipsters. Nevertheless, we instantly hit it off as good friends like the past ten years didn't happen. He speaks very affectedly, to the point where if you didn't know him, you'd think it's an act, but, no, it's a real deal. His voice dips between British and Brooklyn even though he's from Hilltop, Minnesota. He showed me his neighborhood and remarked how transient everything seemed to be. There were broskis walking around. At one point we walked by the fire department and oh my god, I can't believe men actually look like that in real life. We blushed and giggled and they fucking knew it. Oh, New York. I could never quit you.<br />
<br />
In Rance's three-bedroom apartment, we enjoyed wine and he gave me a bunch of free samples courtesy of his day job at Sephora. By night Rance is a drag queen. "Only in the Village, though," he said. "Uptown it's a bunch of show queens. They'll pretend they're not, but you know they all know every word to <i>Liza with a Z,</i> bitch." Rance's room was the cleanest. His two roommates are girls and their rooms were approaching Hoarders level. He explained that one of his roommates is the daughter of an Oscar-nominated actress and has had maids her entire life. We listened to songs off of <i>Me. I Am Mariah: The Elusive Chanteuse</i>, which was such an underrated album! I could probably only do that with him.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/Zkn2DpLonTI/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Zkn2DpLonTI?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0fJCxV4auwkc9jrqbEVLTSk2cZzvqS_2HabmtuA5E_m52FR1GL-DnZ56sPveNI_sn3Ck-VeAbA72ioLPOZeOnj4c_pNqfZrZibPr4PuKfuuvfO1fYYD8BtEWYNmx5UI1J8JUDmzWc1oDy/s1600/dragqueen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0fJCxV4auwkc9jrqbEVLTSk2cZzvqS_2HabmtuA5E_m52FR1GL-DnZ56sPveNI_sn3Ck-VeAbA72ioLPOZeOnj4c_pNqfZrZibPr4PuKfuuvfO1fYYD8BtEWYNmx5UI1J8JUDmzWc1oDy/s320/dragqueen.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tired-ass showgirl.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
After getting into an argument and then a hug with a construction worker telling us to back up as to not get hit by a cement mixer, Rance hugged me good-bye and I was headed back uptown to reunite with the boys. I felt absolutely refreshed by my afternoon with him, and felt that I could finally let all of the (mainly self-created) bullshit go.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN7PHa6YfJFzQgz91IMjTbMq0OovFB43cnZy3JgFNmJOvTC5-tIWnOKBorrcsmGoq7xtXTP3Yvp0gkezeamgElP6oacGRHW2XiXgc9aem-sT8AubYhn1EkXiPfKzXI9-B1ch7gddqD8jzV/s1600/dorindauptown.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN7PHa6YfJFzQgz91IMjTbMq0OovFB43cnZy3JgFNmJOvTC5-tIWnOKBorrcsmGoq7xtXTP3Yvp0gkezeamgElP6oacGRHW2XiXgc9aem-sT8AubYhn1EkXiPfKzXI9-B1ch7gddqD8jzV/s400/dorindauptown.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I never saw any of the Real Housewives!! I would have died. I didn't see any celebrities. Barney, Marco and James saw Emmy-nominated actress and trans activist Laverne Cox in line for a Broadway show. Kelly Bennsimon liked my Instagram picture of the RHONY bus tour, so I guess there's my line of separation.<br />
<br />
Joey and I headed to Brooklyn that afternoon to view my old stomping grounds. The 2 train wasn't running to Brooklyn so we ended up walking FOREVER. I found out that my old college now has student housing, and the lack of housing was one of the many, many reasons I dropped out. I will always consider it to be the biggest mistake of my life, but I am also trying to remind myself of this:<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">If New York had worked out, my life would be very different.</span><br />
<br />
Good or bad? I don't know. I would have been, at best, a "struggling actor", and that's a very difficult life (I was never going to be the next Brad Pitt / Channing Tatum; my acting teacher saw my potential as a character actor, and I agreed). At the time, the NYC comedy scene was entirely based on "bringer" shows if you didn't know anybody; I would have had to work much harder than in Minneapolis (where I still don't work hard enough!). And at the risk of being incredibly sappy, I wouldn't know the people that I do right now. I have a ridiculous, almost shameful amount of friendships, and some of them are deep as hell. Jared is really the love of my life, Joey is my bessssssttt friennnnndddd, and I have learned so much from Steve about work ethic and being responsible for your own happiness. Yes, I wish I had a degree and more money and didn't waste three years of my life living at my parents' house, thus stunting my adulthood even more. Every now and then Steve will say "I don't want to be 30 and _____ .... oh, no offense", but I can't be that offended because a) he doesn't mean it personally and b) his life is not mine. I cultivated a nice little corner for myself in this little part of the world. Nothing is forever, though.<br />
<br />
That night, Joey, Steve and I went to the rooftop bar at YOTEL, and I absolutely loved the ambience. We sat on these really big comfy chairs, and the drinks were sweet without being crazy expensive (Steve graciously paid anyway). We discussed future goals and dreams and they talked about sex and then I got weird but then I decided to just be quiet for once (I know, shocking) and take all of it <i>in</i>, that you're with your two best friends in your favorite city in the world. Also, my new shirt from Zara looked banging, gosh darn it. We went to a lot of bars and didn't like any of them, Steve went back to his hotel, Joey and I went to Boxers for two seconds, and tomorrow was to be our last day!<br />
<br />
We walked to Central Park and played Pokemon Go and I finally ate a meal. Then I rode the carousel while Joey REFUSED! I don't entirely blame him because a) I think Donald Trump owns it and b) it was ridiculously long. I got bored at the end, tbh.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIIiUYM00YUhYhEkZm9UQ3uXcU7IF3rx-EeVRsMThLYwmnXSNkzRf6r-XLLRXF9F4LQFOzG3xDc5-ZhqwpOk_HBryhVrCiXJWhgoBrPJbNMuxkjgTI9FrZo5OT0Y5WEYJRvG_e0XdpENQN/s1600/carousel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIIiUYM00YUhYhEkZm9UQ3uXcU7IF3rx-EeVRsMThLYwmnXSNkzRf6r-XLLRXF9F4LQFOzG3xDc5-ZhqwpOk_HBryhVrCiXJWhgoBrPJbNMuxkjgTI9FrZo5OT0Y5WEYJRvG_e0XdpENQN/s320/carousel.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Proud parent.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We went back to the room and tried to start packing so our leave the next morning would be more efficient, and then we watched the VMA's. Both Luke and Rance had made plans to meet up with us, but they live way downtown and have jobs and it unfortunately just didn't work out. Upon finding out that Beyonce was going to perform ALL OF LEMONADE, I frantically texted Steve and he made his way to The Saloon to watch it live. Joey zoned it out because he is not a fan of it. Nobody is perfect.<br />
<br />
After the VMA's, we headed to Boxers to meet up with James, Marco, and Barney. We played Pokemon Go on the way. You're not supposed to play it, late at night in a strange city, with your cell phone out, but I had caught a Bulbasaur!<br />
<br />
"Wait," Joey said. "My GPS is screwed up. Let me go get it."<br />
<br />
We were the only two people on this street, on a Sunday night, somewhere in the upper 50's, and I just kinda got this feeling, y'know? I felt like Demi Moore in Patrick Swayze's death scene in <i>Ghost</i>, and I certainly didn't want to re-enact that scene.<br />
<br />
A man was looking at us and muttering to himself. And then he was walking toward us. Fast.<br />
<br />
"Joey, put your phone down," I said.<br />
"I almost got it," he said.<br />
<br />
The dude walked up to us and -- in like two seconds that either felt like two hours or just the two seconds -- sized Joey up like he was studying him, WALLOPED HIM IN THE FACE and then ran off.<br />
<br />
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!!!" I shouted. "Jesus fucking Christ!"<br />
<br />
Joey wasn't bleeding, but we walked into an opulent hotel nearby to look in the mirror.<br />
<br />
"Oh my god, are you okay?" I kept asking. I seemed to be worse off than he was, and I wasn't even assaulted.<br />
"Yeah," he said.<br />
"Do you have all your shit? Your wallet? Your phone?"<br />
"Yeah, I dropped my phone but I still have it."<br />
<br />
This made no sense. Why would someone come up to us and cause an act of violence but not take any property? I mean, thank God he didn't take our wallets -- how would we have flown out the next day? -- but I couldn't explain it at all. We met up with the boys at Boxers and explained everything. It was dead in there but our bartender was from Colombia and was in his underwear, so who was I to complain?<br />
<br />
"Wait," Joey said as he pulled up his phone. "Look closely at this picture I accidentally took when I was getting hit. Does it look like I'm wearing glasses?"<br />
<br />
And there we had it. The fucker had sized up Joey on the side to see if the Tom Ford logo was real (and it <i>was</i>, you asshat) and that's why he had decked him.<br />
<br />
"I hope he dropped them," I said.<br />
<br />
A man next to us explained why all the gays have moved out of Chelsea and now live in Hell's Kitchen. We watched the VMA's again. Finally, we went to a second, divey bar, the name of which escapes me but I had the most fun there because when I walked in, <i>Emotions</i> was playing! It was a hug from baby Jesus.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/z4LikHhNy_0/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/z4LikHhNy_0?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
You get two Mariah Carey songs in this post! You are far too lucky.<br />
<br />
There was an older masculine dude but he wasn't into me. Meanwhile, Joey was hitting it off with a boy who was very attractive in a WASP-y, Vineyard Vines douche kind of way.<br />
<br />
"I'm just talking to him," he said. "Do not let me leave with him. He's weird as hell."<br />
"Hey, I recognize you," said Douchebag. "You guys were at the airport in MSP."<br />
"Um, maybe?" I asked.<br />
"Yep, that's you," he said. "You were bitching at him about allergies." It's true! Joey kept sneezing and I was trying to get him to buy overpriced Claritin!<br />
"He was sneezing," I explained.<br />
"My god, it's totally you," Douchebag laughed. "You and that whiny-ass voice!"<br />
<br />
The two of them went outside. Jesus Christ. Whiny-ass voice? I'm getting heckled by someone from the airport.<br />
<br />
"Can I have a shot of Cuervo?" I asked. Unfortunately, the gorgeous Ukranian bartender didn't understand me and poured me a shot of Fireball instead. Oh no! Fireball turns me into a raging thunder c**t!<br />
<br />
Joey came back in, then went back outside. The bar was closing. I was very confused! He had explicitly told to not let him leave with Douchebag, but I was trying this new thing where I would be sex-positive and not cock-block my friends no matter how awkward I may feel ...<br />
<br />
...And the trip ended just like it began. With me screaming and shouting at everyone, this time in the middle of the sidewalk as Joey was making out with Douchebag.<br />
<br />
"JOEY!!!!" I screamed. "WHAT THE FUCK?!!!!!!!"<br />
<br />
I grabbed his arm.<br />
<br />
"WHY ARE YOU PUTTING ME IN THIS POSITION WHERE I HAVE TO LOOK LIKE A PSYCHO CLINGY IDIOT?!!!!!" I cried so hard that people in Astoria could have heard and dogs in Bushwick would start whistling.<br />
"Oh my god, you're totally right," he whispered. "You did exactly what I told you to."<br />
"THIS IS SO UNFAIR OF YOU! DON'T DO THIS TO ME!!!!"<br />
"I said you're right," Joey said, and then he turned around. "How many more times do you want me to say it? Huh? You want to stick it in already?"<br />
<br />
Anyone who can successfully read me at 5 AM in a new city is a friend for life.<br />
<br />
The next day was absolutely hell! So here's the deal: I was supposed to perform at The Saloon for a fundraiser to benefit the victims of Pulse Orlando. Since our flight was to land at 7, I told the organizer I would go during the back half. I was nervous because the line-up was, literally, 50 drag queens and me doing three minutes of hacky dick and sex jokes, but it was an honor to be included.<br />
<br />
First, Joey and I walked to Grand Central Station, where a kind worker informed us that no subway goes to LaGuardia, and that you have to take the bus there. He told us to get on an Express 7. We met a little girl who asked if we were brothers or friends and we pointed out on the subway map where we were going. She talked about gymnastics. Her little sister was shy and her mother spoke no English. She was my favorite person I met all weekend.<br />
<br />
I liked being able to look at neighborhoods in Queens while on the subway. I imagined it would be where your boyfriend takes you to meet his family, and his Italian mother makes you eat far beyond your calorie limit but ultimately decides that you are good enough for her sweet boy, even though she doesn't really understand the whole homosexual thing. Oh, fantasies.<br />
<br />
Okay, so after the train, we had to find out how to get on the BUS to the airport, and signs were everywhere about how bad traffic was going to be because the US Open was occurring that weekend. Joey was overheated and dehydrated and I was worried he was going to collapse at any given moment.<br />
<br />
We got to the airport with about an hour to spare, printed our boarding passes, and everything was smooth sailing! If I ever go on The Amazing Race, it will be with Joey.<br />
<br />
Then we found out that our flight to Chicago was indefinitely delayed.<br />
<br />
IT WAS AWFUL.<br />
<br />
I don't even remember ... I think LaGuardia we were delayed about an hour, and then we were in O'Hare for a week. We got on the plane, off the plane, switched gates ... it was terrible. I realized if I was going to be stuck at the airport with anybody it would be Channing Tatum, but my second choice would be Joey. He was really chill and understood it was no one's fault. Steve sent us live play-by-plays of the show that I wasn't at. The plane was turbulent at the end and I was convinced we were going to die. I was upset with myself for being so obsessed about the stupid stuff. Is all of this going to matter when the plane goes down? 95% of it is not going to matter. Tell people you love them, order top-shelf vodka, and learn to let go.<br />
<br />
The plane did not go down. St. Loretta picked us up from the airport at 1:50 A.M. She stayed awake because <i>The Wedding Planner </i>was on.<br />
<br />
And did I mention the opened the next five days in a row? It was a rough week, children.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
I got a new job!!! Still with the same company but I am no longer trying to sell. I thought my paychecks would greatly improve, but they haven't, because Capital One is getting 25% of my wages even though I am also paying $370 a month to lawyers in Florida who were supposed to prevent such a thing from happening. All aboard the struggle bus.<br />
<br />
Life got back to normal when we returned to Minneapolis. I even sober cabbed to a party in Plymouth! It was fun except I yelled at Steve and Joey while stone cold sober because I thought they were making fun of my celibacy and it turns out they weren't. It was like LuAnn in the finale of <i>The Real Housewives of New York City</i> this season when she walks up to the girls and tells them to stop talking about her and they were really talking about the veggie platter or something.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYmmRhqPRhQGAma5V5FkHvBLS1xAD6GlJyVkzwBJ_gQJ96iSM7dSgsibjhjBZ0Nfb7Mr1z0NAwCWs70W0T-_lF_PgoUZM4g6jMycM7Hu0I38Bpt2KORPyHOpIUI2krVrfquFSktdP2i23u/s1600/luannparty.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYmmRhqPRhQGAma5V5FkHvBLS1xAD6GlJyVkzwBJ_gQJ96iSM7dSgsibjhjBZ0Nfb7Mr1z0NAwCWs70W0T-_lF_PgoUZM4g6jMycM7Hu0I38Bpt2KORPyHOpIUI2krVrfquFSktdP2i23u/s400/luannparty.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
It was actually rather scary, because I used to think I was only anxious when I was drinking (which is often), but now my outbursts of paranoia are happening when I haven't had a drop. Joey even recommended I have a sip to calm my nerves, but I was adamant about being sober while driving. The party was in a suburb that I'm not familiar with, and I had already almost killed us on the way there. Anyway, it's weird to talk about your (undiagnosed) mental illness without sounding like you're navel-gazing. I am not more interesting than I was just because I am now bonkers. If anything, I've just become more annoying. It's a miracle I have any friends, really.<br />
<br />
<i>Next week: Peter comes back to visit! Sundays are not always Sunday Fundays!</i><br />
<br />
<br />jakeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05687321925107280139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757619093854217193.post-39712656992729508362016-08-24T20:09:00.002-07:002020-07-30T12:11:49.337-07:00Loring Park Episode #63: The Comedown<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwE0ztdUpn4J2MV2Q8NKWP2206d-y5fxOhebGkjkfz-e1DnbviZvvcL-TvJuw2Qnd1AvjP503XrBaDbfZtMgnPl4ksNGZw40uk5iFktrogjYxM3OlyfEw50JTmPJABVe_D-u_aVsJmxDy6/s1600/cryingroom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwE0ztdUpn4J2MV2Q8NKWP2206d-y5fxOhebGkjkfz-e1DnbviZvvcL-TvJuw2Qnd1AvjP503XrBaDbfZtMgnPl4ksNGZw40uk5iFktrogjYxM3OlyfEw50JTmPJABVe_D-u_aVsJmxDy6/s1600/cryingroom.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="lyrics-body">
<div class="js-lyric-text" id="lyrics-body-text">
<div class="verse">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="verse">
This episode begins with me screaming my head off in my bathroom at 2:45 AM on a Sunday / Monday. As one does.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/s5BJXwNeKsQ/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/s5BJXwNeKsQ?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<div class="verse">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="verse">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="verse">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="verse">
<i>Well I started out down a dirty road</i></div>
<div class="verse">
<i>Started out all alone<br />And the sun went down as I crossed the hill<br />And the town lit up, the world got still</i></div>
<div class="verse">
<i>I'm learning to fly, but I ain't got wings<br />Coming down is the hardest thing</i></div>
<div class="verse">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="verse">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="verse">
July 7, 2016 -- in which something I worked really hard for actually PAID OFF and I felt surrounded by love -- was one of the best nights of my life. Like, top five. Without ranking them, I would also say:</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
*New Year's Eve 2005 at my friend Laleh's house while we watched Mariah Carey perform in Times Square</div>
<div class="verse">
*The surprise party for my college roommate Whitey at his parents' lavish house in Chippewa Falls</div>
<div class="verse">
*The night I won Funniest Person in the Twin Cities</div>
<div class="verse">
<a href="http://jakeyon.blogspot.com/2012/05/loring-park-week-one.html" target="_blank">*Our pilot episode, in which Jared and I found ourselves at a secret warehouse party</a></div>
<div class="verse">
*<a href="http://jakeyon.blogspot.com/2014/11/loring-park-episode-46-i-left-my-liver.html" target="_blank">Miami Beach</a> with Erin, Loretta, Joey and Jared, a night that involved karaoke, gorgeous go-go boys, meeting handsome Canadians, and exotic food and drink</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmEGEapeUoSXOqg-NKFxnLSDUXhua3c-_7FUshsCywm-fjXlGeFERwO40wBXSyrzBINZWEEsOczENA-ERy0U6FAExcRb8OBEUUNE-hUilUu1Obepf2WK3p26HzzHDpK9oOo5T3tqInsHn-/s1600/thisisthebest.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmEGEapeUoSXOqg-NKFxnLSDUXhua3c-_7FUshsCywm-fjXlGeFERwO40wBXSyrzBINZWEEsOczENA-ERy0U6FAExcRb8OBEUUNE-hUilUu1Obepf2WK3p26HzzHDpK9oOo5T3tqInsHn-/s320/thisisthebest.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
Perhaps the happiness of my birthday show was like a drug, in which the comedown was inevitable. Then it was my birthday (ten days of birthday!), and my life finally went back to normal. I had no gigs on the horizon. Work was busy but not as lucrative as I was anticipating. I could feel my mood starting to shift.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
I went crazy for a while. And when I say "crazy", I do not wish to belittle anybody else's mental illness. I am not being treated for anything because I wasn't sure if I was gonna stay in my current job or not and would need new insurance (blah blah blah). I can call myself crazy. I can't call YOU crazy if you have anxiety or depression, because that's not nice or any of my business.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs47VzhYFL_0sFLWlilh0VVP3wWyJGGw_5j7ZHq4ZYNHgy3D4yzGa56XGjQjXi9X6VVZ71ucEGj0nP_WCslMdkZdhCDvWVBt4ZD_5C7DbXIJJe3yaDgckxo62lsEzKvQMsXJ4jfVXYHkzL/s1600/kristencrazy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs47VzhYFL_0sFLWlilh0VVP3wWyJGGw_5j7ZHq4ZYNHgy3D4yzGa56XGjQjXi9X6VVZ71ucEGj0nP_WCslMdkZdhCDvWVBt4ZD_5C7DbXIJJe3yaDgckxo62lsEzKvQMsXJ4jfVXYHkzL/s400/kristencrazy.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
Now when I type this out, it sounds ridiculous, but I'm gonna take you there anyway. My weeks of breakdown began with a pair of Gucci sneakers.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
I was supposed to pick up shoes for my roommate. I brought home the wrong shoes because I didn't verify the item number. I apologized twice and was met with an eye roll and silence. We immediately left to pick up Joey because we had made plans to go see <i>Ghostbusters.</i> Steve didn't talk to me when we were in the car. "I've said I'm sorry and you can choose to accept it," I said, like a mom dropping off her kid who just had a spat before soccer practice. Eye roll and back to cell phone.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
Joey got in the car and was his usual sunny self. </div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
"Hi, guys!!" he smiled. "I'm so excited!!! Aren't you???!!!"</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
*crickets*</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
"I'm just tired," I lied. "How do I get to 394?"</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
Things didn't get better from there. I lost my VIP ticket right after receiving it and you need it to get into the specific section. Then I accidentally put butter on my hot dog. What a waste of five dollars! I was already in a mood but hoped the movie would improve things.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
We walked single file into our seats, and we were in the VIP section so the seats are two by two. It's kind of awkward to be the third person, especially if you are in an imaginary fight with the second person and the third person has no idea this is happening. Anyway, I was slated to be in the middle but at the last minute Steve walked around us so he would be by Joey and I would be by myself in the third, no-mans-land seat. And maybe he did this because he prefers to be on the left side of the movie theater or has a thing about being closest to the fire exits, I don't know, but I perceived it as a deliberate kick to the balls and spent the next two hours just wanting to explode. </div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
It was like the episode of <i>The Real Housewives of New York City</i> when Dorinda flipped out because while on vacation in Turks & Caicos she realized that Heather always walks into the club before the other girls and she took it to be a personal slight and was agitated for the rest of the night.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij5Q0NemgDocx3_HCilt0wasRuFKayUiv2DgN8mklbgAVwVTUEoYdcYexuO0RnHO4HzkXGXTeA_j7skJH9PAJ7svspgmfU3mUpr9RBRRyhtblqUDnCT3x8RhOMg-M9clv3kEl1EP1eLxs7/s1600/dorinda.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij5Q0NemgDocx3_HCilt0wasRuFKayUiv2DgN8mklbgAVwVTUEoYdcYexuO0RnHO4HzkXGXTeA_j7skJH9PAJ7svspgmfU3mUpr9RBRRyhtblqUDnCT3x8RhOMg-M9clv3kEl1EP1eLxs7/s400/dorinda.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
Does this make any sense to you?? If it does, then you are probably also a reality TV junkie and a 13-year-old girl. Hi. Nice to meet you. Also, you are not old enough to be reading this blog. Come back in a few years.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
I regret to inform you that I cannot give you a review of <i>Ghostbusters </i>as I was too sad to focus on the film. I am a supporter of women in comedy and think Leslie Jones does not deserve an iota of the horrific online harassment she has received. I didn't even get swoon-y about Chris Hemsworth, which is the ultimate tragedy.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
I drove erratically on the way home, because two hours is a long time to stay silently upset about something. I was pretending to be Kate McKinnon but my inside was pure Leslie Jones.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
"Are you sure you're okay?" Joey asked.</div>
<div class="verse">
"I'm fine," I said, which is histrionic teenager speak for Absolutely Not.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
We dropped Joey off, went home, Steve <i>still </i>didn't acknowledge me in any way, and I deactivated my Facebook and left to go play Pokemon Go with Jared. Seventh grade is hard.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
The next day, I drove back to the mall to correct the footwear situation and called Joey to finalize our plans to go to the beach.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
"I can't believe Steve was such a [jerk] last night," I said. (I said a word worse than jerk).</div>
<div class="verse">
"Um, <i>Steve</i> wasn't the one being a [jerk]," Joey said. </div>
<div class="verse">
"Watch your language, Joey," I said and hung up. Of course he would take Steve's side! <i>Everyone is out to get me! </i>said my irrational voice. <i>Calm down, Dee</i>, said my rational voice who, while rational, still compared myself to a fifty-something woman from a crafting commercial.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/V_OVxxIvqVw/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/V_OVxxIvqVw?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
When I later explained the situation at the beach, Joey was still even-keeled. "First of all, don't drive like a maniac just because you're mad. Don't put my life in danger. That was bullshit. And you need to actually tell people when you're upset with them, or you're gonna have a situation like when you didn't talk to Jared for a month."</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
This is what separates a best friend from an acquaintance or even a regular friend. A regular friend will always be your "yes man". Nod his head. Your best friend is going to call you out on your shit. If you want to bury yourself, he'll hand you the shovel. </div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtO-tjkorpkw7Qd05h54UAPkeIDjnb_w94-Ltg8mcQ48X_ixn19Vv64q2pZ6VULmOALhGiXi7UIc0aQ-XJu44k_u0wEsr5otyg3OiGKt4VMSV5W_OKQubDAyu_LHrwFJe7ZOyGUkndYjmE/s1600/thatsmybestfriend.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtO-tjkorpkw7Qd05h54UAPkeIDjnb_w94-Ltg8mcQ48X_ixn19Vv64q2pZ6VULmOALhGiXi7UIc0aQ-XJu44k_u0wEsr5otyg3OiGKt4VMSV5W_OKQubDAyu_LHrwFJe7ZOyGUkndYjmE/s320/thatsmybestfriend.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
We tried playing Pokemon Go but it wouldn't work on my phone while Joey leveled up. It was just like when we go out to the club together.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
I spent the weekend at my parents' house and listened to "Clown" by Mariah Carey over and over. She wrote it about Eminem but I pretended it was a dis song towards me. My self-esteem was not at its highest that week.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/UhXLlQ2Gur0/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/UhXLlQ2Gur0?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
<i>Nobody cares when the tears of a clown fall down</i></div>
<div class="verse">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="verse">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
Wednesday night, it was time for the Gay '90s, which had bingo at 60 numbers for what I swear was two months running. I ended my imaginary fight with Steve, who lives in this place called The Real World where people don't expect to read minds and communicate telepathically and instead they act like grown-ups. I hear it's nice. I felt it was our destiny to win, because we had gone so many nights! Sometimes with Jared, sometimes with Joey, sometimes with Reid, and sometimes I would sit next to Ronny, a cute barback who also sings really well and once at karaoke he did that Peter Pan/Lost Boy song and my pants almost fell off.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
Alas, it was not to be. A bingo queen who brings her own damn bingo blue won the jackpot, and Steve told me she was the same lady who won the LUSH jackpot!!! Some people have all the luck. Nevertheless, I learned from Jesus radio that you can have joy or jealousy in your heart but never both. Good for her.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
I decided to re-activate my Facebook, as turning it off hadn't made me less depressed at all. Instead I was just extra annoying on Twitter. I do recommend getting away from the noise a little bit, though. If I wasn't in the business of show, I would totally tune it out more, especially during an election season. Unfortunately, I don't have an agent and it's how I get probably 95% of my gigs. Upon activation, I found out that my friend Tan Man was having a going away party that week because he was moving to San Diego! I was so out of the loop! I was already supposed to go to Woody's going-away party that week because he was gonna be on tour!</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjosT1kb6RZV_t5BybXlsKh1fsoBrUGNjOXJrEMkcTzwTts3HWPz8kA3ldV6RQiT7x-Xw_4zF3sQ0KllxCWBpWB_ODRQsr-m4KLxz4iOOMH60hDz8sA9yd9l4ezGdmNKly8opNmoWTQUM16/s1600/neversaygoodbye.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjosT1kb6RZV_t5BybXlsKh1fsoBrUGNjOXJrEMkcTzwTts3HWPz8kA3ldV6RQiT7x-Xw_4zF3sQ0KllxCWBpWB_ODRQsr-m4KLxz4iOOMH60hDz8sA9yd9l4ezGdmNKly8opNmoWTQUM16/s320/neversaygoodbye.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
I couldn't get my co-worker to switch with me for party day, so I said good-bye to Woody at the 19 that Wednesday. Tan Man's party was on a Saturday at Marvel Bar. Since I had to work, I decided I would just meet him at The Saloon. </div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
I was already frazzled because I had locked my keys in the car for the 517th time. I was still able to put together my message for Tan Man:</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<i>Saying goodbye to this kid tonight. I met him four years and one day ago at Valleyfair on Gay Day. He was wearing a tank top and everyone in my group was salivating. I kept sneakily changing my position in line so I would "accidentally" be his ride partner.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>And what a ride it has been. He is one of the most caring, hard-working, genuine and NICE people in the world. He has literally been in the front row in support of my comedy and acting and always made an effort to stay con<span class="text_exposed_show">nected even though his life revolves around things like "fitness" "exercise" and "mornings" and my life revolves around things like "the bar" "after the bar" "maybe I will think about working out today wait are we going to the bar already? TWIST MY ARM."</span></i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<i>It has been an honor and pleasure to watch him grow in his career, entirely self-motivated and self-made, and I predict the median body fat percentage in San Diego will significantly drop as a result of his presence and work. Minneapolis was lucky to have you for as long as we did. You are still the only person I would ever go on a kayak for. Love you!!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I promise I'm not always a total loon.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I went to The Saloon at around 11:30 and I ran into my friend Ria, who was anxiously awaiting Tan Man's arrival.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ-6-oMJe9NmCBZNfbQj1UlQctollYfOuPR_SiIJr1Hkr698nNSKgVxWhWgFQxXRyuHUlB9HpBSUWhBda-2UY1DzWUKMyOdyszu0sObb76UpocA_w6rMQRn5ILgKIJp5iYsWc-5fG-N0Yg/s1600/riasaloon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ-6-oMJe9NmCBZNfbQj1UlQctollYfOuPR_SiIJr1Hkr698nNSKgVxWhWgFQxXRyuHUlB9HpBSUWhBda-2UY1DzWUKMyOdyszu0sObb76UpocA_w6rMQRn5ILgKIJp5iYsWc-5fG-N0Yg/s320/riasaloon.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
She was with her roommate Brandon, who we've talked about before in the <a href="http://jakeyon.blogspot.com/2016/03/loring-park-episode-56-hard-wired.html" target="_blank">Super Bowl episode</a>. He was wearing a crop-top. (Can we discuss this shirt? My only purchase from the Nordstrom anniversary sale. It's Paul Smith and says "P.S. I Love You". I wanted to wear it for my trip but it's still in the wash)</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
"I should blow raspberry on your stomach like a baby," I said, because I am good at distracting myself while waiting.</div>
<div class="verse">
"Do it!" Ria cried. "I'll Snapchat it."</div>
<div class="verse">
"No," Brandon said. "What if my boyfriend gets jealous?"</div>
<div class="verse">
"He wouldn't," Ria said. "Jakey, you are far too young to be dating Brandon." (Brandon's tastes run toward the silver foxes)</div>
<div class="verse">
"Did you just say I'm too young to do anything?" I asked. This was one of the first nights I had gone out as a 30-year-old. "That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
We hugged, but it still didn't bring Tan Man to us, who was calling it a night! He said he would come to the show at the '90s the next night.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
"My theory is that he hardly ever drinks and everyone at Marvel Bar was giving him free shots and he probably has the tolerance of a 12-year-old," I said. You don't get to 5% body fat by being a booze bag, to use a Loretta term (towards me).</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
I still wanted to drink but then foolishly ordered a tequila shot.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
"Why did I get this?" I asked. "I don't even like tequila."</div>
<div class="verse">
"Are you going to finish it or not, Jakey?" asked Ria, who was now sitting across the bar from me and silently judging.</div>
<div class="verse">
"I have to get sad about something first," I said. Sometimes I'll Google pictures of Chris Hemsworth from <i>Cabin in the Woods </i>because of who he looks like<i>,</i> but that chapter of my life really has long been over (470 days!) and I tried to find something else to get sad about.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
Then PAOLO~! walked in. Holding hands with an age-appropriate and handsome boy! The shot, it was downed.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
"'Allo, Jakey," he said in his indiscernible accent. "Guess which one of us is older."</div>
<div class="verse">
"I can't play this game," I said. "First of all, I know your exact birthday. Secondly, Liam would always play this with me and I hated it." <a href="http://jakeyon.blogspot.com/2013/01/loring-park-episode-21-should-old.html" target="_blank">Remember the New Year's Eve party</a> when they pegged me at 35 and made fun of my hairline? Not how I wanted to kick off 2013!</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
"Fine," Paolo pouted. "But whoever gets told he's older has to bottom."</div>
<div class="verse">
"And take a shot," said his man friend. "I've already had five."</div>
<div class="verse">
"Me, too," said Paolo.</div>
<div class="verse">
"Well, I hope neither of you is bottoming <i>tonight</i>," I said. I didn't say that out of jealousy but pure logic. I have the sex life of a nun and even I know that excessive tequila will give you dry mouth and mud butt.</div>
<div class="verse">
"I saw you perform at Pride," Paolo's boyfriend said. "You're really funny." Oh, fine. I approve.</div>
<div class="verse">
Somehow my age came up in conversation.</div>
<div class="verse">
"No way," Paolo's boyfriend said. "You look like 24." They could have banged on Danny's bar after that.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
Brandon, Ria, and I danced to Beyonce. Brandon took his shirt off. Nobody died.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
***</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
I continued to unravel the following morning (which I think is the day that ended with the bathroom screaming). And it's all going to be fine. We're not gonna go into details. I'm just gonna take you behind the scenes of a mental breakdown, okay? Because weeks later I can look back at it and realize what the root of the zaniness has been.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtgQCPmr2fAFiHk_ffl8VKoaRXvF6p9V6ITInMKMjyPMvtNDWFarLQ9xvke_q0IpZYZcI1KUj0x4K31XIT8nenrT1-JdUeLBC4MklE-WxC8Jg3k2IxewEgZxxIbssLHoFJiZBhfsNuvBy1/s1600/whatisthetruth.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtgQCPmr2fAFiHk_ffl8VKoaRXvF6p9V6ITInMKMjyPMvtNDWFarLQ9xvke_q0IpZYZcI1KUj0x4K31XIT8nenrT1-JdUeLBC4MklE-WxC8Jg3k2IxewEgZxxIbssLHoFJiZBhfsNuvBy1/s1600/whatisthetruth.gif" /></a></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
STEP #1: ASSESS ACTUAL EVENTS.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
STEP #2: BE WRONG WHILE ASSESSING ACTUAL EVENTS.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
STEP #3: CONVINCE YOURSELF THAT THIS FALSE TRUTH -- THAT YOU HAVE MANIFESTED AND CREATED -- AS THE ABSOLUTE FUCKING TRUTH.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
STEP #4: OVERLOOK THE LEDGE AT THE MALL OF AMERICA PARKING RAMP. YOU KNOW. JUST TO SEE.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
STEP #5: WHAT ARE YOU DOING? YOU HAVE TO GET BACK TO WORK.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
Repeat.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
Okay, so remember when I went nuts at Jared and moved out for a month? A major part of that was that I did not let him know what I thought was the absolute truth -- rather, I had just accepted that this movie in my mind was the utmost reality. (Spoiler alert: It wasn't.) And I was doing it all over again, creating a mostly false narrative and convincing myself of its reality, and the one person I could have talked to about it (Joey) was in the Wisconsin Dells while I was on the water slide that was my erratic emotions. That is the worst metaphor I have ever used, and I am keeping it.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZMbq7lOIbt7rxbEKFikN1JbGevUForM8A5cJZrMzeGp6uWt89eQehr_4CPaWxTFxW2bpGfuWpDlzMaBbXqZcseNhGkY9mXG_6XT2EtvQyblSe0K2gOj-Zavq3gjuqDZwof3WiEs7T6NQQ/s1600/waterslide.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZMbq7lOIbt7rxbEKFikN1JbGevUForM8A5cJZrMzeGp6uWt89eQehr_4CPaWxTFxW2bpGfuWpDlzMaBbXqZcseNhGkY9mXG_6XT2EtvQyblSe0K2gOj-Zavq3gjuqDZwof3WiEs7T6NQQ/s1600/waterslide.gif" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
The year I turned 30 was the year that everything changed, and it seemed to be happening all at once and I didn't know how to cope with it. On top of that, now I'm gonna say good-bye to a dear friend of four years because I cannot stay in 2012 forever.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
Tan Man showed up to the '90s and we watched wonderful, summer-filled porn. He brought his straight friend, so to say the man was a good sport would be an understatement. Then the three of us played a game of sexy Twister. You will be shocked to find out that I was the least athletic of the three and lost right away, and I had even cheated twice.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
We vamoosed to The Saloon, where I said good-bye about 850 times.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR9bX2XMziZnPVF0p2CCPpI1iYsMYzpX8eXsNCgDpKsyC_FZgQwQdmAhRzEdjolMlPCWoR6PFYkzNQZ0mBnkArV2RcnYXnxfa1NwzN_jJTw6iVWZ9h5uTi9VY6pxHDJpIiOJlpuA2ZKXyx/s1600/goodbyetanman2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR9bX2XMziZnPVF0p2CCPpI1iYsMYzpX8eXsNCgDpKsyC_FZgQwQdmAhRzEdjolMlPCWoR6PFYkzNQZ0mBnkArV2RcnYXnxfa1NwzN_jJTw6iVWZ9h5uTi9VY6pxHDJpIiOJlpuA2ZKXyx/s320/goodbyetanman2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
Then I went home and screamed my head off in the bathroom and went to Jared's and we went back for more vodka and he went back to get his cigarettes. Steve is being nominated for sainthood.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
***</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
<b>Let's Talk About Boys</b></div>
<div class="verse">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="verse">
Amidst my going nuts, I have actually been FLIRTING!</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitrxg0vzOCB1ePpvafaGLtw-UVIAiQW_fygvcBdqJPT40_sf8Vo1EVeXWc0fJDhhXIMjne9BiKh-hIAt59bKlzXWhLJCCzWMlez5UqwbFUM7BMAaYKlL9hyJ4tFZhFOrT_jGssyjdUavs8/s1600/meflirting.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitrxg0vzOCB1ePpvafaGLtw-UVIAiQW_fygvcBdqJPT40_sf8Vo1EVeXWc0fJDhhXIMjne9BiKh-hIAt59bKlzXWhLJCCzWMlez5UqwbFUM7BMAaYKlL9hyJ4tFZhFOrT_jGssyjdUavs8/s320/meflirting.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
Reid and I went to the 19 and met nice men from Utah while playing darts.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
"Are you Mormon?" Reid asked the 6'2" muscular blonde who works in the fitness industry.</div>
<div class="verse">
"Oh my god, Reid, you can't just ask people if they're Mormon," I said as Gretchen Wieners of 2016.</div>
<div class="verse">
He laughed and said he wasn't. He was there with a couple who was nice enough. Then they met a tall dudely dude named Jim.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
"Ohmygodhiimjakey," I said.</div>
<div class="verse">
"What?" he asked incredulously. "J.P.?"</div>
<div class="verse">
"Jakey," I said.</div>
<div class="verse">
"Wait .... WHAT?!" he asked again.</div>
<div class="verse">
"Jake with a Y at the end of it," I elaborated.</div>
<div class="verse">
"Oh," he said. "K."</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
I turned to Reid and Utah. "You guys, I think Jim is really into me," I said. Utah laughed and I realized he was good people.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
Another night at The Saloon, Reid and I met up with a pair of 21-year-olds! One of them I knew from the clubs before. I had asked him his name once and he said Brian. "It's such a douche bag name," he said with a smile. "Nah, it's cute!" I cried. Anyway, Brian was with his friend who was having his 21st birthday. I hadn't eaten all day and was coveting the shame basket they had ordered.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
"Can I have your pickle?" I asked.</div>
<div class="verse">
"We can share it," Brian smiled.</div>
<div class="verse">
"Do you want to Lady and the Tramp it?" I asked.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
He agreed to do it! And then part of it ended up in Reid's lap which was really gross. But still! Look at me flirting! </div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
Then Reid bought them martinis.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
"Look at us flirting with the boys," I said.</div>
<div class="verse">
"And I don't need a gimmick," said Reid.</div>
<div class="verse">
"I have a boyfriend," Brian said.</div>
<div class="verse">
"Oh, that was a waste of six dollars," Reid pouted.</div>
<div class="verse">
"I got what I wanted," I boasted.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
Reid continued to hang out with them but then the birthday boy barfed all over the patio and I realized maybe I should start crushing on older men.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
I went to a party for my friend Anne at LUSH. One of her friends there was a therapist but she said she charged extra for being at the bar. Ugh. Fine. This gorgeous man who I always see at the bar and on Grindr was there and I introduced myself to him. All I said was "Hiimjakey" and shook his hand frenetically.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
"Um, I'm Corey," he said. That was the end of our interaction. My friend Jeff who was there said he dated him in college and that he is like a puppy dog. Perfect!</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
Dane and I both needed haircuts because our stealth ginger was showing.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
"Are you really ginger?" Jeff, who is a proud ginger, asked. "What color are your pubes?"</div>
<div class="verse">
"I'm not answering that," Dane answered.</div>
<div class="verse">
"Nair," I answered.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
Then Dane and I went to the bathroom together but I didn't want to use the trough and we spent three minutes talking about peeing in public and then COREY came out of the bathroom stall! I can't have nice things. I went to Charlie's house to watch <i>The Mary Tyler Moore Show </i>because I opened the next day and I party so hard on Fridays.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
***</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
I got to cross off Valleyfair on my bucket list for the summer! Finally! Steve and I only stayed for five hours because it's different when you are two grown-ups, and an hour of that was in Soak City. I wanted to do Steel Venom again because I was going to marry Vlad, the strapping blonde who secured our safety. The girl running the Power Tower was really cranky and she smashed my junk TWICE because there was an annoying group of children on our ride who wanted to get off at the last minute. We pretended to kiss in the Wild Thing photo but nobody booed us because everyone else on the ride was Swedish and I was 90% happy with how progressive the world is now but I was 10% kinda bummed about it. I remember, like, ten years ago, these two bro-dudes kissed in their photo, maybe as a dare, and people booed the hell out of them.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
"Let's have the guesser try your age!" Steve cried. Last year we did this and won a stuffed owl, but I was pegged at 26 because of the people I was with. The guesser was cute and looked like a teen idol. As I got closer, I saw he was identified as from De La Salle High School! I told the Lord I took back any previous comments about his looks. I really wanted to do weight because I had lost 10 pounds (thanks, anxiety!) but age is probably more fun.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
The teen idol looked at me and jotted down a number. "I'm gonna write this down with a pencil and I can't change it," he said. "Okay. Go."</div>
<div class="verse">
"30," I said.</div>
<div class="verse">
"Really?" he asked with a grimace. <i>Oh, God. He probably put down 42. Steve is going to laugh about this until I really AM 42.</i></div>
<div class="verse">
"I put 22," said the heartthrob.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
I tried hugging him but he recoiled. "Please just pick a prize," he said, and I panicked and picked a giraffe - type thing.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
***</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
Sean was back in town this weekend and we continued our usual rapport, which is he buys me drinks and I coach him socially. We were talking to my friend Princess, although I avoided physical contact because Princess had just come back from the Kesha concert and had glitter all over him. We requested Madonna and Mariah Carey.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
"I'm old enough to be your father," Sean told Princess.</div>
<div class="verse">
"You don't need to include that in every conversation," I said. "It's not relevant."</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
***</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
The next night was major because it was the opening of GAME, which is a gay-themed sports bar! Joey couldn't go because he was at the Jay Brannan concert. Jay Brannan is his Mariah Carey. Ok, then. I just like the cover of "Your House".</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/sBC9HXrvktc/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/sBC9HXrvktc?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
My friend Max came to join us, and we watched Roseanne while waiting for the Uber. GAME had a block party but it was raining by the time we got there! Steve and I were going to wear matching jerseys but we didn't think of that until about ten minutes before leaving.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
Anyway, it was totally packed in there, like PRIDE-level. We realized it was going to take us forever to slide up to the bar and get a drink.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
"Get ready," said Steve, as we were surrounded by men who were a lot thicker and taller than we are.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
I realized this would be our most athletic endeavor. Let's go to the tale of the tape as we represent America in Drinking Olympics.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
<b>SYNCHRONIZED DRINKING</b></div>
<div class="verse">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="verse">
<b>EMMERT HOWELL</b></div>
<div class="verse">
<b>5'7", 120 5'8", 135</b></div>
<div class="verse">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="verse">
<b>Good with bartenders Former varsity athlete</b></div>
<div class="verse">
<b>Easily distracted Only wants Blue Moon</b></div>
<div class="verse">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="verse">
There was an opening and we slid right in. GOLD MEDAL.</div>
<div class="verse">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="verse">
"Thank God we're tiny," Steve said.</div>
<div class="verse">
"I don't know what I want," I said. DOWNGRADE TO SILVER.</div>
<div class="verse">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="verse">
GAME was super fun -- I recognized the staff, including this cute boy who I met at the 19 and then met at the UpDown and he said he now sees me everywhere and I said "I hope not sporadically" which is totally a rip-off from Clueless -- oh, and COREY was there so I waved at him over and over -- but my favorite people I met were an older straight couple.</div>
<div class="verse">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="verse">
"We have this table and we're not giving it up," said Sherry. </div>
<div class="verse">
"No dancing on the table for you?" I asked.</div>
<div class="verse">
I thought her and her male partner were a gay man / straight girl relationship, but she later told me that they were engaged. Off my surprise, she added, "We're both widowed."</div>
<div class="verse">
"So you get it," I said. "Life is short."</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0qqOuTYROf12Hk5YLk8K-6Ty5o3r32UjBbG8E8Bp2KdvmkIXixfn8F2z8h7Zfg58duIgfbGhU4C6HmEucFos2GgDTDbmn3LjAq4H64q9bj8t7A_B_2pEBWtnL6akiBI6UVRGLnye6d8wI/s1600/shorttimepartone.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0qqOuTYROf12Hk5YLk8K-6Ty5o3r32UjBbG8E8Bp2KdvmkIXixfn8F2z8h7Zfg58duIgfbGhU4C6HmEucFos2GgDTDbmn3LjAq4H64q9bj8t7A_B_2pEBWtnL6akiBI6UVRGLnye6d8wI/s1600/shorttimepartone.gif" /></a></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFUpslCfPHrtncKR88lTvbW-eWXk8XNDtP9CQCFW9ShMoC3OXaT1HOvCYXZTdql9pYdwHyxdfR5X3DOejVJ_cHklOz1YLPYcUj_dBvPXv5IoVWmF9XPfq9X_ZOVv028Tl6HQ8tTMO4yU81/s1600/haveagoodtime.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFUpslCfPHrtncKR88lTvbW-eWXk8XNDtP9CQCFW9ShMoC3OXaT1HOvCYXZTdql9pYdwHyxdfR5X3DOejVJ_cHklOz1YLPYcUj_dBvPXv5IoVWmF9XPfq9X_ZOVv028Tl6HQ8tTMO4yU81/s1600/haveagoodtime.gif" /></a></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
***</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
Reid, Joey, Steve and I played UNO the next night. After Game and Drink Four, I lost my shirt and my dignity and decided I was <i>still</i> butthurt about ShoesGate -- Joey and I had discussed it at Treasure Island before I cried at <i>The Bodyguard</i> on Whitney Houston's birthday -- and I was going to pop off like I was on <i>The Bad Girls Club </i>while Reid was outside smoking and Joey was forced into the role of Platonic Marriage Counselor. </div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
(The way I remember it is that I was super mature and dignified, and then I was later told that um, no, my shirt was off and I spilled vodka all over the coffee table. Fucking hell.)</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
Anyway, I re-enacted the whole thing and went on and on about how I actually felt that night. In that moment, Steve could have told me I was batshit crazy and he wouldn't have been wrong, but instead he said probably the best thing to tell a person when they are going batshit crazy:</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
"I'm sorry for what you ... thought ... happened in your head."</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
Like, that was all I really needed, y'know? Steve's new book, <i>10 Ways to Effectively Deal With a Crazy Person in Business and At Home,</i> will be out next month from Scholastic.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
And then I lost Uno.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
I think I'm still crazy but maybe I'm just 30. I don't scream in the bathroom anymore so at least things are looking up.</div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
<i>Next week: The boys go on vacation because this isn't enough of a Real Housewives show!</i></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
<div class="verse">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
jakeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05687321925107280139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757619093854217193.post-29389175249159880172016-08-09T15:43:00.001-07:002020-07-30T12:11:22.790-07:00Loring Park Episode #62: In Which I Am ThirtyI love this movie. I saw it in the theater with my father. Two weeks later I dragged him to <i>Mean Girls. </i>2004 was a magical spring. That poor man.<br />
<br />
Yes, 30 was looming, but first I had some shenanigans as a 29-year-old to endure!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2re8ZmBmRHeBPCqXlk8wstyKVQGuQlLTIdz2txlySDAwBkL5XlP6BIYQMHKPzcW3aLgiV-_M-_7LoIDFZGm2V5nQ-KpFDdqKwPQ67bjPzlziEuCRdbFDlAPFTXzK6kseaysaj0QWDqBma/s1600/13goingon30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2re8ZmBmRHeBPCqXlk8wstyKVQGuQlLTIdz2txlySDAwBkL5XlP6BIYQMHKPzcW3aLgiV-_M-_7LoIDFZGm2V5nQ-KpFDdqKwPQ67bjPzlziEuCRdbFDlAPFTXzK6kseaysaj0QWDqBma/s320/13goingon30.jpg" width="223" /></a></div>
My timeline is going to get messed up because I am now 30 and my memory is fading, but I believe this episode starts at <a href="http://www.updownmpls.com/">UpDown</a>, the new video arcade in Minneapolis. We had heard about it and thought it sounded fun. I had decided that because I wanted to look and feel best during the biggest show of my career, that I was going to be sober between Pride and the show. It would just be two and a half weeks and I could do it.<br />
<br />
I met Steve at UpDown, and Joey and Charlie soon followed. It is really fun! My only recommendation or complaint would be that you should definitely pay cash or close your tab right away, because when they take your card you have to literally be like a private investigator to track down your bartender. We kept confusing this poor girl with another girl who worked there and it was kind of annoying. Other than that, it was a hell of a time. Joey is obsessed with MarioKart but I can't play it to save my life, so I suggested games from my youth like Tetris and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.<br />
<br />
"You guys can name all the ninja turtles, right?" I asked my posse.<br />
<br />
They looked at me blankly. Good God. Was this an age thing? I had flashbacks to daycare when we would role play Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, but there were too many boys to claim the roles of the turtles, Shredder, and Splinter, and we only had one girl who always got to be April O'Neill, so I always had to be April's loser friend Irma.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOafJyN2WQA4bpb04-Ye-jJq8kQeO-co5Fv43m-tmVKI4C64Y6xPBKDFJLqa0Wp2AtkAJO9_ncarr7f1qO6976t9NS9IqjoWVOZcskP7ZZRwkUw2hR1ydgm_x6lAxQMIzn6vIuEmSMY-Om/s1600/irma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOafJyN2WQA4bpb04-Ye-jJq8kQeO-co5Fv43m-tmVKI4C64Y6xPBKDFJLqa0Wp2AtkAJO9_ncarr7f1qO6976t9NS9IqjoWVOZcskP7ZZRwkUw2hR1ydgm_x6lAxQMIzn6vIuEmSMY-Om/s1600/irma.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Me on a Saturday night.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
"Oh my God," I sputtered. "I'll give you a hint. They were all named after artists."<br />
"Leonardo DiCaprio," Joey guessed.<br />
"Oh, wait, I know!" Steve cried. "Georgia O'Keefe!"<br />
<br />
Then we played a zombie game where you had to go through this big mansion and there were so many zombies. Steve was almost bored playing it but I still gave him all my coins because I wanted to see him beat the big giant scary butterfly monster thing.<br />
<br />
After our excursion at the arcade, we decided to have happy hour at moto-I, where I have never been! This was close to Joey's new apartment.<br />
<br />
Oh my god, I forgot to tell you. Joey is MOVING. Why is this show even called <i>Loring Park (Adjacent)</i> anymore? Originally he was going to move to St. Louis Park, and I handed him a butcher knife from the kitchen drawer and told him to just finish me already. Uptown isn't necessarily far from Stevens Square, but the era of me walking to his place or crashing at his place after The Saloon would now be over, and I had to mourn it as yet another example that this, the year of 30, was going to bring changes.<br />
<br />
"It's not like he's moving back to Wisconsin!" my mother told me when I was freaking out about it.<br />
<br />
My friend Jack was also pragmatic. "It is the natural evolution of a gay man in Minneapolis," he said. "First a gay man moves downtown and gets all the clubbing out of his system. Then they move to uptown. Then they move to St. Louis Park. Then they move far away to the suburbs and are never seen again."<br />
<br />
I had images of Joey inviting me via snail mail to his birthday barbecue in Plymouth and shuddered at the thought. My poor baby!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9_jVTWUHO2fZHS43q_a_7_nh6FOelzUnL-6DJkD5_zvfCEc4sLN2-QYZ9JtVwSBHGob6lvpPkUfocsMFJgJ1TIz1g1D9xQNflbpnzxEQYVsfVpky-5sR4Z-x1ywx0qvQiN8Xsaz9IHhyK/s1600/pleasedontleaveme.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9_jVTWUHO2fZHS43q_a_7_nh6FOelzUnL-6DJkD5_zvfCEc4sLN2-QYZ9JtVwSBHGob6lvpPkUfocsMFJgJ1TIz1g1D9xQNflbpnzxEQYVsfVpky-5sR4Z-x1ywx0qvQiN8Xsaz9IHhyK/s1600/pleasedontleaveme.gif" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Anyway, we were up at moto-I at the rooftop, and I declared that I was not drinking for a week so I would have a tonic water please, while the boys enjoyed adult beverages. The food was delicious. Charlie had to go back to his home in St. Paul (he's close St. Paul, though, like by UST), and the three of us went back to the house to watch the Beyonce visual album <i>Lemonade.</i> Unfortunately, I couldn't find the remote after moving back to the house, so we couldn't fast-forward anything and and to watch it straight through.<br />
<br />
"I just don't get this," Joey said about every video.<br />
"I want to get laid," said Steve after every video.<br />
"You boys are stressing me out!" I cried. "I need a drink!" Steve and Joey looked at each other like children when Mommy is off her medicine. And thus ended my flirtation with sobriety. I felt bad about myself for drinking again and then drank more to feel less bad about myself. I had only been holding myself accountable -- I didn't pledge to anybody else that I would do this sober kick, and the only person I was letting down was myself (and maybe my mother) -- but it still felt like an internal failure on my part.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA3BgynB4cjBc4ln3Jmd0gJc83eyjcLSUjXwKuGg92B7_BepFnmPCVNGJnnN5QHY5xF6qGWRTtpwKZbkx2s2HNjoYI8UjJS90K7-DhsksC8bCnYDc20mC8y129Wvg591-83VTeUhUbWY0Q/s1600/karenvodka.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA3BgynB4cjBc4ln3Jmd0gJc83eyjcLSUjXwKuGg92B7_BepFnmPCVNGJnnN5QHY5xF6qGWRTtpwKZbkx2s2HNjoYI8UjJS90K7-DhsksC8bCnYDc20mC8y129Wvg591-83VTeUhUbWY0Q/s320/karenvodka.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Since I had already face-planted off the wagon, I was back at the club on Saturday, where I talked to a nice boy who looks like Sexy Harry Potter. While I was dancing with him (me! dancing! What??? <i>Accio sex appeal of a much younger man</i>), my friends left by themselves and when I tried calling one of them, I was met with a text that says "I'm with people", with is gay code for "LEAVE ME ALONE AND GO HOME BY YOURSELF, GODDDDD." I felt stupid and butt-hurt about it the next day, and Reid went to Union with me for brunch where I used an #ImWithPeople hashtag on our Facebook check-in, as if that would solve anything.<br />
<br />
We know Al, one of the servers at Union, so she hooked us up with great service. The first time I met Al she was screaming in my apartment about how much she hated someone. "AND NOW SHE'S PREGNANT AND THINKS SHE'S SO SPECIAL BUT I STILL FUCKING HATE HER!!!!" I was very worried as I thought she was talking about her roommate, but it turns out she was discussing the Academy Award-winning actress Anne Hathaway.<br />
<br />
Nevertheless, Reid and I were sitting in the hot sun, and I'm rocking that fair skin, so I could feel myself burning up. Jared joined us shortly thereafter. Sometimes I forget I'm not at the gay club anymore, and when a group of muscle broskis came in, I began applauding. Reid found a drunk straight guy to hang out with for most of the time. He was definitely my type (muscular, dreamy, dumb as a box of rocks), but I kind of prefer my crushes to not have a vacant look in their eyes like they currently have a concussion.<br />
<br />
"He's much more of a Jakey type than a Reid type," Reid admitted.<br />
"I know, what gives?" I cried. "Find me the twinkiest twink! I want a little blonde thing with no body hair that I can throw around like a rag doll!" Unfortunately, there was no such thing at Union.<br />
<br />
Jared, Reid, a delightful lesbian named Sasha, and I vamoosed to Cowboy Slim's, because that was where Reid's broski was going. Or was it Cowboy Jack's? I don't know. The one that's walkable distance from Union. Reid bought me a shot and we decided to ride the mechanical bull!!!! Who was I???? I was enjoying my last damn week at 29, that's what.<br />
<br />
We watched a stranger go first.<br />
<br />
"Oh, God," I cried. "I'm gonna get hurt."<br />
"It's all in your thighs," Jared, now the expert of rodeo, recommended.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/CTNWGf7KQn0/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/CTNWGf7KQn0?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
I got on but was still nervous. I may have gained some weight, but I'm still under 130 and built like a grandma.<br />
<br />
"You'll do fine!" Jared cried. "Pretend it's Wesley!"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT5xu3N8VKooE9ki0TEoYHMcisar081Lk41JHITXsKQ8hPJYhkLnaSbysA5rYTyMN0DO_3me4-sWxWJpUAIrVjtRLZfBbDjhB3AEEnY4pmorHH_TCUQJvBilx8lPAHfDGN4YP3O-t_B5gu/s1600/ohnoshedidnt.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT5xu3N8VKooE9ki0TEoYHMcisar081Lk41JHITXsKQ8hPJYhkLnaSbysA5rYTyMN0DO_3me4-sWxWJpUAIrVjtRLZfBbDjhB3AEEnY4pmorHH_TCUQJvBilx8lPAHfDGN4YP3O-t_B5gu/s400/ohnoshedidnt.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Without any further comment, I lasted 11 seconds which was longer than anyone else in our group. Never doubt the power of a heartbroken twunk.<br />
<br />
Steve messaged me reminding me that I was supposed to clear the driveway for him (we share a parking space and he works late on Sundays). When I told him I forgot and I had already been drinking and wasn't gonna risk the DUI, he clapped back.<br />
<br />
<i>Oops. Forgot the world revolved around you. My bad.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUVvPJnv7E3G11seRpzteUsmxu1IcogPTQvO1vGWSkpMhyphenhyphenP-vy-2ET9KbXfPCOEkSHsjf5TUObAhSopF4u-F8hgsFmT3GFLjOMN_l8xC-MKcPp1DKQpQ2GxJiHpbkSaJ3aRuBs0e4HdKB8/s1600/quad.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUVvPJnv7E3G11seRpzteUsmxu1IcogPTQvO1vGWSkpMhyphenhyphenP-vy-2ET9KbXfPCOEkSHsjf5TUObAhSopF4u-F8hgsFmT3GFLjOMN_l8xC-MKcPp1DKQpQ2GxJiHpbkSaJ3aRuBs0e4HdKB8/s400/quad.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIYg5bR7zsNUXy-7tOWKgvfpUflqCiAOSGKhXJz9kHkphWGgzekkM38JDBjEuGz09anx3li7y2lt7DsI8ccIIBm0qDq94lWtZFPQ34Yg8Nc1PtZensHuarw6q87KvmJlUSr3hsfA2gvaql/s1600/areyounew.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIYg5bR7zsNUXy-7tOWKgvfpUflqCiAOSGKhXJz9kHkphWGgzekkM38JDBjEuGz09anx3li7y2lt7DsI8ccIIBm0qDq94lWtZFPQ34Yg8Nc1PtZensHuarw6q87KvmJlUSr3hsfA2gvaql/s400/areyounew.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<i>Well, I'll always be happy to remind you that it CERTAINLY DOES, </i>is what I wanted to say, but I didn't think of it until six hours later and spent the rest of the afternoon pouting and eschewing alcohol for Red Bull. Don't you hate that, when you get the right comeback hours, if not days, later? It reminded me of the time I was at Lawrence's pride party trying to interject in a conversation at the table. "<i>This is an A-B conversation</i>," an asshole with facial piercings told me. <i>Well, that's fitting, because you're a real C</i>, is what I wanted to say. I don't even think I thought of that until, like, a MONTH later.<br />
<br />
Still, it really hurt my feelings, probably much more than it should have. I have a pathological need to be liked at all times and I have yet to appropriately adjust when that script is flipped. Reid, Sasha and Jared kept telling me to get over it and all I could think about was what Beyonce song would fit my sadness. We later went to Mackenzie's and indulged in French fries, and Reid and I flirted with a waiter of indiscriminate foreign origin.<br />
<br />
I took a nap and moved the car before walking to Joey's, so hopefully the world went back to revolving around the sun. #heliocentric<br />
<br />
Joey and I played Fortune Streets at his apartment and actually finished the game!! That never happens!! Unfortunately, this meant that we had a good eight minutes to sprint from Laurel Village to the Gay '90s so I could host Mystery Porn Theater 3000. We used Joey's past as a track star and my past as being a widely anxious fuck to good use, and made it to the show in time.<br />
<br />
At the '90s, we indulged in free drinks courtesy of our bartender Tim while I narrated Gays of our Lives Part 2 and Boywatch Part 2. Unfortunately, we don't have the originals, so I don't know if anybody understood the plot.<br />
<br />
We had a few guests that evening. One was a boy who I am going to call Tall Boy because he is tall and I am creative. He was blonde, blue-eyed and lamented the dress code of the '90s that said he couldn't wear a sleeveless shirt.<br />
<br />
"You can wear it in here," Tim smiled. The boy obliged and my eyes got big because he had stealth biceps, by which I mean you would not describe him as muscular when you first saw him, but then the first shirt came off and I wanted to challenge him to an arm-wrestling match.<br />
<br />
Then my friend Zidane came in with some of his Brazilian cousins. One of them I have met before at The Saloon, as he was underage and was very politely thrown out when he sipped from a drink before remembering he was in America. His name is Paolo, and he is a muscular college athlete. I don't have a crush on him at all.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc_EWNS6D6j_TxUH1jZRvmgBEQ5eYju3OuxA_pUvMktjLHqbrB7ccMbApNx-SneHsiNVQCHFg0U7u_g2T1kqqJ2anzrrHJbiJyn1V6yJQF5h4gAz14lLQugFaC5ZvQFlMwGdT0L2V3IFqV/s1600/shutupimnotblushing.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc_EWNS6D6j_TxUH1jZRvmgBEQ5eYju3OuxA_pUvMktjLHqbrB7ccMbApNx-SneHsiNVQCHFg0U7u_g2T1kqqJ2anzrrHJbiJyn1V6yJQF5h4gAz14lLQugFaC5ZvQFlMwGdT0L2V3IFqV/s400/shutupimnotblushing.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
After awkwardly flirting with Paolo and Tall Boy, it was time to go!<br />
<br />
"Are you ready to go to The Saloon?" I asked Joey.<br />
"Yes," he said, even though he was doing that thing where he couldn't exactly stand up straight. Oh, brother.<br />
<br />
We miraculously made it to The Saloon and to the back bar to get food! Joey said hello to Steve while I ignored him because I am mature that way. Steve is a Virgo and does not stay mad. I am a Cancer which means I stay mad but then will swear an oath in front of a jury of my peers that <i>I am not mad at all </i>and <i>everything is fine.</i> Joey wolfed down a burger basket nearby the garbage can while I tried fending off thirsty twinks, as I was worried the garbage can might be coming in handy.<br />
<br />
"I swear I know you," a beautiful tall blonde kept saying.<br />
"You're so cute," an older dark-haired gentleman kept saying.<br />
<i>People!</i> I wanted to cry. <i>Now is not the time.</i> Instead I emitted an awkward smile that I hoped gave the same signal.<br />
<br />
After carb-loading, it was time to dance!!! Did I mention I hate dancing? But I was still, now perhaps irrationally, worried that Joey was too drunk to leave by himself and it was all my fault considering it was at my show in which he indulged in freebies. I was in full-on Mama Bear mode. I danced with Tim and thanked him for the service at the '90s. Tall Boy was there!<br />
<br />
"Do you remember my name?" he asked. I did, and he was impressed, which made me kind of sad. But he was dancing with a girl! OH NO.<br />
<br />
I looked behind me and Paolo was there! What? Twinks were all over him. Joey brushed up against him for a little bit. I danced him with awkwardly, by which I mean I just jumped up and down a lot.<br />
<br />
"You need to come to my show!" I yelled over the music.<br />
"When is it?!" he yelled.<br />
"Thursday!!" I yelled.<br />
"That's my birthday!!!" he yelled louder. "You better give me a shout-out!!!"<br />
<br />
Then Brexit came up to us. Brexit is a super weird code nome for a boy, but it is because, while I met him months ago at The Eagle, I never really bonded with him until Pride weekend when we discussed Brexit for ten minutes because we are both political science nerds. We are both anti-Brexit but I have consistently been having cybersex with a conservative British boy for the past six years, and therefore I felt I had good perspective on both sides of the issue.<br />
<br />
Anyway, it was super awkward, because Brexit clearly was not coming over to talk to me, who is small and average, but to Paolo, who is tall and strapping and sexy as fuck. I know, right? How shocking.<br />
<br />
They made small talk and then Brexit looked over to identify who Paolo's dance partner for the moment was.<br />
<br />
"Oh, um, hi, Jakey," he awkwardly smiled before doing a double-take. The best part of being gay is when you crush comes over to you only because he wants to talk to your other crush.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG_uJZhvYULGMGz5c1MDUvufslYjWbxGCmIFVMp52OAHozwPjpr3awsK0xmlbY9MWrIdg8KwjIGqtmY0LVd7I08VrTZUO68trrmOBMRqobced9SjDpqjScYnNdFII2RkgTgDzqtWE3hA1Y/s1600/whatever.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG_uJZhvYULGMGz5c1MDUvufslYjWbxGCmIFVMp52OAHozwPjpr3awsK0xmlbY9MWrIdg8KwjIGqtmY0LVd7I08VrTZUO68trrmOBMRqobced9SjDpqjScYnNdFII2RkgTgDzqtWE3hA1Y/s400/whatever.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
It was about 1:45 now. OH MY GOD, HOW MUCH LONGER DID I HAVE TO KEEP DANCING??? I even hated it in my youth.<br />
<br />
I felt a slight reprieve when "My Love is Your Love" came on, and by slight reprieve I meant a slight pang of feelings.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/0yiIgF2lIGs/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/0yiIgF2lIGs?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://jakeyon.blogspot.com/2015/04/loring-park-episode-51-roll-with.html">One of the best weekends of my life was April of last year.</a> That Friday night, I performed at T-Buckets, a dive bar in Somerset, Wisconsin, and was to perform at a fancy charity event the next day at a golf course in Cottage Grove. On the drive back from Friday night, I was with my good comedy friend Emily Johnson and this song came on. We were both secret fans of it. I discussed how I was in love, and how I had been that way for a long time, and I thought that maybe this time things would actually work out.<br />
<br />
The following evening I met up with him after the golf course show. I was still rocking my too-tight tan suit from the kids' department and he was wearing jeans with holes in them. For a while everything was perfect, and I also had a lingering fear -- if not knowledge -- that it was all going to end soon.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://jakeyon.blogspot.com/2015/05/loring-park-adjacent-episode-1-and-rest.html">He drove away from me two weeks later</a>, never to be heard from ever again. He added me back on Facebook due to a glitch in the system. When I drunk messaged him to ask him about it, I made Jared read the response (it was allegedly "not terrible", I think his words were). When I drunk texted him after my best friend was two blocks away from the terrorist attack in Paris, I realized I had sent it to the wrong area code.<br />
<br />
I was lost in these thoughts when a well-meaning boy asked me if this was Whitney Houston.<br />
<br />
"Yes," I said, as I was back in present time. "From the album of the same name, <i>My Love is Your Love."</i><br />
<br />
Tall Boy asked for my phone number but I never heard from him. Paolo left with his sexy, sexy posse. Joey got home safely. The world continued turning around something.<br />
<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
I was lucky to be off the next day, on the 4th of July!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/CV1_GkY48AY/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/CV1_GkY48AY?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
I have never, ever had a sexy Fourth of July.<br />
<br />
But it was still fun! My friend Julie lives in Apple Valley and I drove to her house, where I was at the Apple Valley 4th of July Parade. It was just like the Pride Parade in downtown Minneapolis except not at all. Our high school friend Hallie was there with her kids as was another young couple with kids, as they were well-trained in getting candy. I was busy eye-fucking a young DILF across the street until I saw how happy and excited he was when Jason Lewis, a conservative former radio host running for John Kline's vacant House seat against openly gay Angie Craig. Nevertheless, I still smiled and thanked the attractive woman who handed me a flyer and encouraged me to vote. Responding with "I live in Minneapolis and I LOVE OBAMA" would not have solved anything (and made Julie, a Republican, rather uncomfortable). I am an election judge and am passionate about people getting out to vote, period, end of sentence.<br />
<br />
We went back to the house for BBQ where Hallie chastised her oldest daughter for putting her finger in the dipping sauce.<br />
<br />
"Luna Ruth," Hallie cried. "Don't look away from me when I am shaming you in public."<br />
"It's really fine," Julie said.<br />
"I'm not done," Hallie continued.<br />
<br />
It's so weird to think of her as a mom because in my head I'm still in seventh grade, but she's a hilarious mom, especially because her family is going through tough times that belie their youth. You need your humor to survive.<br />
<br />
Isaac, a firefighter, is very sweet and hilarious and struggling with an unknown disease akin to muscular dystrophy, and <a href="https://www.gofundme.com/2bdc49g">y'all can donate here.</a><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihgvljD5aDSQr1cnuMBu0vtldfwun0hJJtDr_Jrh11JyUVi8sCZ0Bt04FueUKIfPvWYnIY6F_39pbiYYyeO-Zmm17GWBrygAiy3sfIWXYyeEdHOz5jmXjInk-zdZdNI3WaYC9IBggE-4j3/s1600/hallieandisaac.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihgvljD5aDSQr1cnuMBu0vtldfwun0hJJtDr_Jrh11JyUVi8sCZ0Bt04FueUKIfPvWYnIY6F_39pbiYYyeO-Zmm17GWBrygAiy3sfIWXYyeEdHOz5jmXjInk-zdZdNI3WaYC9IBggE-4j3/s320/hallieandisaac.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
While I was in the 'burbs, I swung on over to Prada Diamond's house for her annual 4th of July pool party! It made me realize how lucky I am to have such an eclectic life, going from a BBQ with young families to a BBQ with drag queens and where "mother" and "children" mean some different things!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJwbxL9CdOoBrRs7l2z6I6O_LaH3sqy6RWz1demEbGIgN0kBM5_wEJupGYstM_CeCVEaGjXed400_woHUhyZHdiRsjUL5g-lA9nPJC3oH_4OubrT7niqLBG-wwDt5uPByscU3MVIzNQIUL/s1600/dontpeeinthepool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJwbxL9CdOoBrRs7l2z6I6O_LaH3sqy6RWz1demEbGIgN0kBM5_wEJupGYstM_CeCVEaGjXed400_woHUhyZHdiRsjUL5g-lA9nPJC3oH_4OubrT7niqLBG-wwDt5uPByscU3MVIzNQIUL/s320/dontpeeinthepool.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Now they tell me.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Prada and her partner, Violet Femm, have a lovely home in Burnsville with a hot tub attached to the kitchen. I went out to the pool and delighted in being able to recognize so many drag queens out of face. It was a delightfully diverse party in terms of color and body type, and I was happy to be there. Julia Starr's eyebrows stayed on the entire time and I think she has secret powers.<br />
<br />
"I'm so excited for our show on Thursday!" Christina Jackson cried.<br />
I shushed her because we were right in front of Bad Karma, a drag queen whom I lurve, and Karma's benefit show was the same day at LUSH.<br />
"I am too," I whispered.<br />
<br />
I was about to leave but THERE WAS SO MUCH FOOD. Get you someone who can paint their face and make a three-course meal. I waited to throw my food away because the house boy was changing the bags.<br />
<br />
"Which one is recycle and which is trash?" I asked.<br />
"Um, the one that says trash," he said.<br />
"Well, I don't want to screw it up!" I cried. "You were working so hard."<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7_dVi5zL5M7kaLUxLr3gMnpJRUtRs2ehR5CElO8vJxyfphyphenhyphenZx8RtmRqm2SOc6rHVPerc3msYytBBe-tosFnonFXq5IeTZiQjj71WbNY7ayjx2pcja4PdGMaNGsg5IA-vCyGWpkBl2dzQX/s1600/dirty30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7_dVi5zL5M7kaLUxLr3gMnpJRUtRs2ehR5CElO8vJxyfphyphenhyphenZx8RtmRqm2SOc6rHVPerc3msYytBBe-tosFnonFXq5IeTZiQjj71WbNY7ayjx2pcja4PdGMaNGsg5IA-vCyGWpkBl2dzQX/s400/dirty30.jpg" width="285" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Holy shit.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And then, we came to only the biggest night of my career. Okay.<br />
<br />
As of that morning, we had sold six tickets online. And I was not only to pay myself but all of the incredible talent and the sound guy AND raise money for the Minnesota AIDS Project, which led to incredibly generous donations for our raffle. My anxiety was only quelled by the fact that we got a <a href="http://www.citypages.com/arts/jakey-emmert-celebrates-his-dirty-30-with-a-queer-comedy-showcase-8407464">great write-up in City Pages that came out the day before.</a><br />
<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Some people celebrate turning 30 years old with a party that is unapologetically self-glorifying. For others, leaving their twenties behind is a reason to mourn the loss of youth, and embrace the cold darkness of being an old person.</blockquote>
<blockquote>
For local comedian Jakey Emmert, it’s an excuse to bring together the best LGBTQ comedians from all over Minneapolis for an incredible showcase of queer comedy talent.</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
“Turning 30 absolutely terrifies me,” he says about the milestone birthday. “I thought that if I could make a show about it, I would dread it less.”</blockquote>
<br />
<br />
Oh, children, I was still mourning the loss of youth and embracing the cold darkness, I was just also doing a show.<br />
<br />
The day began with me trekking to Cottage Grove, where my friend Melissa Abdouch, who had already managed to get $250 of fake eyelashes donated to the raffle, had commissioned a friend of hers to make a set of beanbag boards. Miraculously, my GPS worked so I did not get lost on the way (actually it is very close to the casino), and in another miracle, they fit in my Toyota Yaris!<br />
<br />
I quickly printed things at the library, dropped things off at my mother's house and got pretty at my home before vamoosing to The Saloon. I gave myself an enema so even if I would have vomited, nothing would have come out.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIihmBCid2xmapzhXu-7G-ibbRlw6R57JldlqRqNEmi5wBKsxUrEp_kEboYNMAXwABCDkbaOE4t99wAHP1lHqlBeqCmu5BQNlwdY1Q57SNhYPaX2Ghkjm7uJmkVUUYz_W7Ve0KGM-d9KjC/s1600/thatsgross.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIihmBCid2xmapzhXu-7G-ibbRlw6R57JldlqRqNEmi5wBKsxUrEp_kEboYNMAXwABCDkbaOE4t99wAHP1lHqlBeqCmu5BQNlwdY1Q57SNhYPaX2Ghkjm7uJmkVUUYz_W7Ve0KGM-d9KjC/s320/thatsgross.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I got there at 5:30 and my parents were there, as was Greta, who was helping be in charge of the raffle as a representative of MAP. Jared, Reid, and Steve arrived shortly thereafter. Team Jakey was in full activation mode! Joey was at his high school girlfriend's wedding.<br />
<br />
I was running around with a chicken with his head cut off. "I feel I like still have to do 1000 things," I told B. Louise, who was my host for the evening.<br />
"Welcome to producing," she said. She was a wonderful ally to do the event with, as she has producing experience up the wazoo. I knew how to stand behind a microphone, but I had no idea how to book people, negotiate pay, and promote accurately.<br />
<br />
The doors were about to open and I wanted to go upstairs, because I didn't want anyone to see me once the show started. And it's not like I'm Cher or anything, but it's kind of like a wedding. If you see me right away and I come out two hours later looking the exact same, it isn't as special, y'know?<br />
<br />
I was right about to head upstairs when my Auntie Kathy, who messaged me earlier saying she wasn't going, showed up!!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMG8P6TyNEKALWdGzOrkKhMUkak7o5YEcb8jT1LVWMY0_7bimXqKca6VyA4XT-uwKWNpPluoK1DKDx4gwo4g-8OvdPkDV5KdMcCq9fVi_9zl5yFn7FiXegpMeUpLwtomg03Om9cedk5qLG/s1600/auntiekathy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMG8P6TyNEKALWdGzOrkKhMUkak7o5YEcb8jT1LVWMY0_7bimXqKca6VyA4XT-uwKWNpPluoK1DKDx4gwo4g-8OvdPkDV5KdMcCq9fVi_9zl5yFn7FiXegpMeUpLwtomg03Om9cedk5qLG/s320/auntiekathy.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
She came all the way from Princeton, Minnesota, with one of her good friends. I was blown away by the gesture.<br />
<br />
"How are ticket sales going?" I asked Team Jakey.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
"Are you monitoring sales or playing Pokemon Go?!" I cried. "You are all fired."<br />
"Wait, what?" Reid asked.<br />
"Oh my god, SQUIRTLE!" Jared cried.<br />
<br />
Steve was assigned to do the manual labor of the chairs and Reid was assigned doing tickets with my father.<br />
"Reid, are you comfortable checking ID's so we can 'X' anyone between 18 and 21?" I asked.<br />
"You don't have to tell me twice," he cried. <i>Daddy.</i><br />
<br />
I ran upstairs, able to enjoy the show as much as I could. I was also assigned a walkie which I kept neglecting. My heart went out to Everett, the event coordinator and unofficial show producer.<br />
<br />
B. Louise went first, then Justin Horowitz (a young gay), then Sarah McPeck sang a hilarious song to Jakey as Jared, then Harrie Bradshaw (who had to leave early to see Garbage), then Zidane, then intermission, then John, then Christina Jackson, and then ...<br />
<br />
...As nervous as I was, I was also ready, y'know, in a mode of "Let's just do this" ...<br />
<br />
"Please welcome, the world's oldest living twink, JAKEY EMMERT!!!!"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/_QVHD8f4j4E/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/_QVHD8f4j4E?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
The only video I have of the show -- which I since accidentally deleted because I cannot have things -- is my entrance, which my friend Diva recorded. Mitchel has it on his phone but neither one of us can figure out how to upload it.<br />
<br />
The crowd went apeshit. I'm not saying I deserve it or that they should have gone apeshit, but I was certainly not expecting to walk out to a thunderous standing ovation. I hugged Jared, who was in the front row, and then made fun of my family and closest friends for ten to fifteen minutes (I already tried to do a lip-sync and it wasn't that funny, but it is important to try new things, and I didn't want the show to be a carbon copy of my set at Pride two weeks before).<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>My non-sexual life partner Jared is here. I'm not saying I'm dramatic, I'm saying that he used my last enema and I moved out for a month. It was a shitty situation.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Joey is not here. He is at his high school girlfriend's wedding in Green Bay. I think he should have sent a postcard with all of us that said "Dodged a Bullet". </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>He was going to move to St. Louis Park and I handed him the knife and said, JUST DO IT. He said, "If you want me to do it fast, use a gun." I'm like, "A gun? You are such a Republican." This year, the worst thing you can call a gay man is a Republican. We're like, "Faggot? Eh. Republican? HOW DARE YOU."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>My friend Steve is here. I'm not saying he's a stoner, I'm just saying he doesn't like to talk with his eyes open.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>My brother is NOT here. (gives middle finger) ... He had a terrible girlfriend. Thing is, there is only room for one bitch in the family and Loretta and I are still fighting over it. It's not gonna be you.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>My auntie Kathy came all the way from Princeton, Minnesota! I think she thought "queer" meant "strange". She's gonna go home and her friends are gonna be like "What did they talk about, Kathy?" and she'll be like, "Y'know ... Stuff."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>All of my friends are so much younger than me! Except Reid, but he has banged so many 20-year-olds that he is 20 by osmosis.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
The ten minutes flew by, and then we brought out the talent onstage to do our raffle. We raised almost $500 for charity, and half of it was donated by Markie, who won almost all of the prizes. He even tried bidding for the eyelashes. I later found out that my friend Martha and her daughter Lucia nominated themselves as raffle bullies and wouldn't let people sit down until they bought something. Also, I lost the Twin Cities Leather & Latte prize and later found it with my laundry, so if you are reading this, Geoff, please let me know when I can bring it to you.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie9Y7nK8e5neF510UEmlXXvXM9UdO2YjCZqgfp0j4LR1r-l94DVDMQj7RsPRWk5VyXI7JuZnULrk3DrRuXu81Qtrlo8N6Ei_r_c6ab6s9aG23z9wesjksl8ssLD78EIkvjl9wK4wG6dg1W/s1600/heatherandloretta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie9Y7nK8e5neF510UEmlXXvXM9UdO2YjCZqgfp0j4LR1r-l94DVDMQj7RsPRWk5VyXI7JuZnULrk3DrRuXu81Qtrlo8N6Ei_r_c6ab6s9aG23z9wesjksl8ssLD78EIkvjl9wK4wG6dg1W/s320/heatherandloretta.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Me with my friend Heather (who snagged a major MOA donation!), and Loretta</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
After the show, people wanted to hug and greet me (understandably!), but I had to make sure everybody got paid! My mother found out Harrie Bradshaw's real name is Oliver and still think that's the cutest thing. I look drunk in this picture but really it's because I felt like I got shot out of a cannon. I worked my ass off this show, stressed out about it, and then ... I did it. Huh. That happened. Okay.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_YzjNTKFXkIJujSmopo0HAh6xW-aO4Z5Bgtx4nxvMmPdT34PA0M-i9urpUpjF2JzFBRLxgduPMF0AXLLG_t-gzYm1k3spNwy7PsJZ2Jgppb0xinvmBIfS4bGgsPA-BBFAWWOsfzOpd5OM/s1600/tanmanshow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_YzjNTKFXkIJujSmopo0HAh6xW-aO4Z5Bgtx4nxvMmPdT34PA0M-i9urpUpjF2JzFBRLxgduPMF0AXLLG_t-gzYm1k3spNwy7PsJZ2Jgppb0xinvmBIfS4bGgsPA-BBFAWWOsfzOpd5OM/s320/tanmanshow.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Tan Man was there and we took a photo in the back. I love him so.<br />
<br />
People kept wanting to buy me shots but I had to work the next day (at 3 PM, but still), so I turned a few people down and was later told that I was rude and dismissive about it. It was never my intention and I reached out to at least one person I knew who felt that way.<br />
<br />
It wasn't just a celebration of myself, but a celebration of the generosity within our community -- I couldn't believe how many prizes got donated -- and a celebration of the gay talent around us. I had long dreaded turning 30, and as early as February, I had told myself that if I did a show to celebrate it, then I would have something to look forward to instead of being afraid of.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiD8tgwLBN31RcSevWgi_jafSfWUqvmEWC-MA1A0F57IiG3nevDTez64S9hncpdNxG9T4MtmjDnr2BerbuM6r4YCmtQUrJDipsUWBuuvhPZXg4ZuywPaV2LS7BhUG0hMgS45vcQDSbjid-/s1600/bobwall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiD8tgwLBN31RcSevWgi_jafSfWUqvmEWC-MA1A0F57IiG3nevDTez64S9hncpdNxG9T4MtmjDnr2BerbuM6r4YCmtQUrJDipsUWBuuvhPZXg4ZuywPaV2LS7BhUG0hMgS45vcQDSbjid-/s320/bobwall.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
For a month I had shared a wall with talent like Harrie Bradshaw, Strongjaws, and Bob the Drag Queen, and I had to recognize that such a feat -- for someone who is not a drag queen, a ridiculously sculpted model/dancer, or famous outside the walls of The Saloon -- was kind of amazing.<br />
<br />
However, this show was technically the week before my birthday, because I was being obnoxious and doing TEN DAYS OF BIRTHDAY!<br />
<br />
The following week, Joey and I went to the casino. The water park was closed so we listened to the next-door neighbors having sex for entertainment.<br />
<br />
My actual birthday was Friday the 15th and I had to open that day because it was a big day at my real job. That Thursday before, I went to Drag Queen Game Night but convinced myself that I would leave right after the show.<br />
<br />
Well, you know where THIS is going.<br />
<br />
I let it slip that my actual birthday would be at midnight.<br />
<br />
"I'll buy you a shot at midnight," said Brett, my dreamy and lanky bartender.<br />
"I'm sorry I missed your show," said PAOLO~!. "I will buy you a shot at midnight."<br />
"Oh, twist my arm," I said. I stayed for the show (Lila Veda did a death drop and I saw my life flash before my eyes), and mingled while sipping a Red Bull.<br />
<br />
The back bar was more crowded than usual for a Thursday night, and the clock was ticking. "Are you ready, Jakey?" Paolo asked.<br />
"Of course I'm ready," I said.<br />
"For your drink?" he clarified.<br />
"Oh, maybe," I said.<br />
<br />
B. Louise's table was next to mine and a group of twins whom I see at the bar often were standing on the other side of me. Time felt like it was standing still.<br />
<br />
"It's your birthday?!" cried one twink who has jet black hair, blue eyes, and absolutely no body fat.<br />
I nodded. "At midnight."<br />
"Oh my god, happy birthday!" the twinks cried. I didn't have the heart to tell them that at midnight, one of them would be sacrificed to an altar made of Andrew Christian underwear and Fireball bottles and druids would chant as I would soon enter the abyss that was ...<br />
<br />
"It's midnight! Happy birthday!" Brett cried.<br />
<br />
I chugged my shot and immediately went down to the ground, with my hands over my face.<br />
<br />
"Oh my god, what's wrong?" cried a twink. "You should be happy it's your birthday!"<br />
<br />
I knew that when I stood back up, my world would now be completely different.<br />
<br />
Paolo helped me up and I removed my hands from my face.<br />
<br />
"I'M THIRTY!!!!!!!!!" I cried.<br />
<br />
The twinks stood back and gasped.<br />
<br />
"We thought you were, like, 24," one of them said.<br />
<br />
"Oh, children," I cried. "Not at all."<br />
<br />
B. Louise's table sang Happy Birthday in raucous fashion. I was on time for work the next day. All was well.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
My brother is my twin, so I decided on our actual birthday, my friends and I would crash his party at Ray J's and go to LUSH thereafter. I walked home to presents. Steve got me a new DVD player (so we can skip on the Beyonce album!) and an air purifier for my room, since I had a horrible asthma flare-up that never went away. Joey said he would purchase tickets for an upcoming vacation. The real present was when he agreed to change the bedding, but flourished too much during the act and blew a fuse in the house! We learned it takes three gays to change the light bulb (or at least find the fuse box).<br />
<br />
We were fashionably late to Ray J's, so we just missed my aunt and uncle, who gave me money and Dots for my birthday (all I will ever want). Woody showed up thereafter. I had too much Fireball and turned really red and at one point drunkenly ran to Lunds to buy Pepcid, but they were closed. Ugghhh. I chugged a bunch of water and looked decent enough for us to head to LUSH.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNcdIjdiI9g2ZpOzFx-kVj9ItX5kD4l4nUBy6k4H1YFzFF2jQbGK8N7z1KhUz8hsRyPg9GnoXO8OA8Uzx9pJJHZxdpEHndVLe0egOSOijSYGtQlR9rQqzj1YdYSK5D8j5hbj5KfRaihKKK/s1600/danesbday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNcdIjdiI9g2ZpOzFx-kVj9ItX5kD4l4nUBy6k4H1YFzFF2jQbGK8N7z1KhUz8hsRyPg9GnoXO8OA8Uzx9pJJHZxdpEHndVLe0egOSOijSYGtQlR9rQqzj1YdYSK5D8j5hbj5KfRaihKKK/s320/danesbday.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I also realized I smile the exact same way my Grandma Shirley smiles in pictures.<br />
<br />
Oh my gosh! Go back real quick.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2P2Lx3k5Nmq7SCTT35GKiGwxac5EILNXYj-I-QWkGH2qGPNboqvq_8HoYj2rEPe2FH-9doBbDMBZXJYkLUW_8WCF8pxu4t80ez-2DFM5cxnWpUvBw546QqPQEhbwbnRls12mOiacBEkic/s1600/grandmabingo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2P2Lx3k5Nmq7SCTT35GKiGwxac5EILNXYj-I-QWkGH2qGPNboqvq_8HoYj2rEPe2FH-9doBbDMBZXJYkLUW_8WCF8pxu4t80ez-2DFM5cxnWpUvBw546QqPQEhbwbnRls12mOiacBEkic/s320/grandmabingo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Before the party, we had dinner at the house with our grandparents and Dane and I made Grandma Shirley Bingo. Every selection is something she inevitably brings up.<br />
<br />
LUSH was a hoot and I even attempted dancing.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCwq7n68JudTSEtsYWpvUho3dg_4EmJg6hryG0fKlFS9ZPk_j91VXywfIDjyaD9uR-863Ap3ur20jsJYj4gj4aIxDGspFsZuTVDqlfpurY-HhLHqqpIm_agol86NLYaRcoDdh4Fkx_1EBg/s1600/woody.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCwq7n68JudTSEtsYWpvUho3dg_4EmJg6hryG0fKlFS9ZPk_j91VXywfIDjyaD9uR-863Ap3ur20jsJYj4gj4aIxDGspFsZuTVDqlfpurY-HhLHqqpIm_agol86NLYaRcoDdh4Fkx_1EBg/s320/woody.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Some of the first official photographic evidence of my third decade. Jesus.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
The festivities continued one more day when it was my birthday brunch at UNION! I had to drive to get Charlie, because he injured himself at work and is on crutches, the poor thing. He got offended when I told him he was gangly.<br />
<br />
"I meant lanky," I tried clearing up.<br />
<br />
Steve had to work in the afternoon but still showed up (a very sweet gesture), as did my brother, Loretta, Jared and Paul Ryan. Paul Ryan gave me a gift card for the Melting Pot and Charlie and Jared both gave very thoughtful, homemade presents that currently reside atop my dresser.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFsRiLty-GMYk1ddpsTlCiH5GFqe6sPxqgfN224qvAxzhlLvI1udZYQf8CzzF9o0b7naFfkPyuWEXnjJ0wYRg28t-8YB0saeoKS7YCXHWMKh1LIeSPgzoEKppVybsZJ70PscO4IIL-RvWb/s1600/birthdaypresents.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFsRiLty-GMYk1ddpsTlCiH5GFqe6sPxqgfN224qvAxzhlLvI1udZYQf8CzzF9o0b7naFfkPyuWEXnjJ0wYRg28t-8YB0saeoKS7YCXHWMKh1LIeSPgzoEKppVybsZJ70PscO4IIL-RvWb/s320/birthdaypresents.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I had Reid guest host the '90s show for me since I had to open the next day and the 10 days of birthday HAD ME EXHAUSTED. I still stayed up drinking 'til 2 anyway, because Steve, Joey, and two twinks from down the street were playing Uno, where we indulged in delicious gossip and Rumpelmintz.<br />
<br />
"Let's make a rule where every time someone plays a Skip, you say something shady about the person to your right," Steve said.<br />
"No!" I cried. "I am at your right."<br />
Steve played a Skip. "You're balding," he said.<br />
"That's not even shade," I pouted. Then I looked in the mirror and realized I was getting hives from the Rumpelmintz. My beauty, like my youth, was officially gone.<br />
<br />
<i>You look around and you see all the love around you and you just have to let yourself feel it ... Or at least save it and remind yourself that it's there in a future time of need.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I wrote that the night of the show and am trying to keep myself remembering it. I go absolutely crazy in next week's episode.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigaWRg0K0OYCMhzh9DtEPJMIwYu2sF1Jz35VxRz1c9yf4Opx4Ku64xAOILAltdCkNzhycox-x7EVyo8pfygd_5HI3Ks91d2jFZfSaZ4ujyW2bCjolHQG8tdbGBURfHshlJnx0oMAeXBxaf/s1600/showend.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigaWRg0K0OYCMhzh9DtEPJMIwYu2sF1Jz35VxRz1c9yf4Opx4Ku64xAOILAltdCkNzhycox-x7EVyo8pfygd_5HI3Ks91d2jFZfSaZ4ujyW2bCjolHQG8tdbGBURfHshlJnx0oMAeXBxaf/s640/showend.jpg" width="360" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
jakeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05687321925107280139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757619093854217193.post-8953574871565389892016-07-15T18:09:00.007-07:002020-07-30T12:11:26.134-07:00Loring Park Episode #61: My Pride and Joy<br />
Pride weekend was upon us! But first it was Father's Day, and I have long given up hopes of finding a sugar daddy. I planned going to LUSH and then my grandparents' house, but I was also besotted by a horrific summer cold. My dreamy doctor put me on Prednisone and again expressed concerns about me being on it because it makes people hyper and I am already pretty "squirrely." I hope that's in my file.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I still made it to LUSH where I enjoyed brunch with my friends Ria and Micah and friends (relatives? I'm a bad listener) visiting from Kentucky. Steve had to work at 2 but stopped and said hello for a little bit.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxxLI2LjIm5jUy0YhxHmkXa99aypB0LllhShUwUYkm1PKjO6_sXlhbzh9J7XSP98QM2o2ALjxMGtOR5BA-XPxisAvx4yxvII3g3yXcSwuYOOa3ulVtkKOeArj924u8Mb3rJ4cHe782nKDq/s1600/lush.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxxLI2LjIm5jUy0YhxHmkXa99aypB0LllhShUwUYkm1PKjO6_sXlhbzh9J7XSP98QM2o2ALjxMGtOR5BA-XPxisAvx4yxvII3g3yXcSwuYOOa3ulVtkKOeArj924u8Mb3rJ4cHe782nKDq/s320/lush.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhskqAYbq8PF-KTm4NrvivXO5Bzm-ePb2dDbjK8T8kx7j11mESOQYpboAA5KpADdDtTm8Uk8p7awwh2FqolR9NhAsTIKk4wT3wOzE8wC6plXog1zAlFofgUfdseBaUVSDIOuIfVq7FNALOk/s1600/bae.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhskqAYbq8PF-KTm4NrvivXO5Bzm-ePb2dDbjK8T8kx7j11mESOQYpboAA5KpADdDtTm8Uk8p7awwh2FqolR9NhAsTIKk4wT3wOzE8wC6plXog1zAlFofgUfdseBaUVSDIOuIfVq7FNALOk/s320/bae.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
This was our server. TAKE ALL MY MONEY. He is a dancer/entertainer and had to work all of Pride weekend, the poor baby.<br />
<br />
Things were a little awkward because Liam was there and kept sitting at our table and I was trying to avoid him. I was immature and cryptic before, so I'm going to put it all in the open, because I've been watching a lot of Bethenny Frankel lately and I think it's important to note when you're in the wrong and acting like an asshole.<br />
<br />
When most of my friends went to Vegas for Jared's birthday, I was at home begging my mother to help pay my debt consolidation bill because I am broke as a joke as a result of my own poor decisions. I felt like shit about it but understood my current circumstances, and jokingly told my friends that if any of them went to the Mariah Carey concert, our friendship was over (none of them would have paid that much money to go see her, anyway. Britney? Maybe).<br />
<br />
Anyway, while the gang was in Vegas and I was eating my feelings on my mother's couch, Liam tagged everyone at Caesar's Palace for the Mariah Carey concert and tagged ME in it with the update of "making Jakey jealous". This was not the first or last thing he had done on social media in a very short span of time to hurt my feelings, but when I look back, it was probably the most egregious. The last one was a week later when he wrote "you look old" on a Valentine's Day picture that I thought I looked good in! Maybe my skin is thicker now that I live with someone who insults my appearance at least once a week, but I was feeling sensitive that winter. So I pushed the block button. So did Joey and so did Steve. I ran into him weeks later at the bar and he cried and I told him I would be cordial to him - I wasn't gonna ice anybody out. That being said, even in February I was worrying about him trying to come to my Pride party. I wasn't going to invite him because we weren't friends anymore. But what would I do if he showed up? Would I pull a Tamra Barney and yell "LEAVE!" like he was Alexis Bellino in Season 7 of The Real Housewives of Orange County?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsgeImj9Y1xbwzIMXVAoCMiQwv0ND7x2F7JbrlVepU6OGx6L3LicruAxYWN4Ul4xPlj2iwWCCQsSsUr8tvxcGk_zkEE3GbSUKvAuDtOYMaMHnZygOxDLbCxEgkluG_bPuhrSesGCvN-zPM/s1600/iunfriendyou.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsgeImj9Y1xbwzIMXVAoCMiQwv0ND7x2F7JbrlVepU6OGx6L3LicruAxYWN4Ul4xPlj2iwWCCQsSsUr8tvxcGk_zkEE3GbSUKvAuDtOYMaMHnZygOxDLbCxEgkluG_bPuhrSesGCvN-zPM/s320/iunfriendyou.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Now, here we were four months later, and I still hadn't tried to have a real conversation about what happened. I wanted to stay upset and non-responsive.<br />
<br />
"I need to talk to you later," Liam said.<br />
<br />
"Okay," I said. And I knew what this was about because he had been texting me for a month about the Pride party and I wasn't responding.<br />
<br />
I told Ria and Micah about it and they are friends with both of us and didn't want to take sides, nor should they have. "You could always tell him it's a fire hazard and you can only invite a set number of people," Ria offered half-jokingly.<br />
<br />
I tersely texted "You're not invited" after he implored again. At the time I thought it was a good decision, that I had true to myself and my own values and self-esteem, and that everybody would agree with me.<br />
<br />
Um, no.<br />
<br />
Ria, Micah, and their friends left, and while awaiting my chariot of my mother's SUV, I sauntered over to the table where Quinn and Louis were sitting. I decided to use as my greeting that I had finally told Liam he could not come to the party.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQOtv1eZXZvMbXKZLaO8PSxcHOuzQPnFeKBSDALEx0Smc10fn-WOZSIgEVjROb3DgN09QfyIgowaO8e0BRF0xYChgmEwA-B5MpK6T8Ppi-maosDvlUoM5dbXMbUSLv0lwq_W8x83s2qO6W/s1600/anchorman2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQOtv1eZXZvMbXKZLaO8PSxcHOuzQPnFeKBSDALEx0Smc10fn-WOZSIgEVjROb3DgN09QfyIgowaO8e0BRF0xYChgmEwA-B5MpK6T8Ppi-maosDvlUoM5dbXMbUSLv0lwq_W8x83s2qO6W/s320/anchorman2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
This is a picture of Megan Good and Christina Applegate from the underrated <i>Anchorman 2</i>. There are a surprising amount of articles about the surprising feminism of that movie. Anyway, Christina is Veronica, Ron Burgundy's estranged wife, and Megan is Linda, his sexy producer whom he is having an affair with. When the women FINALLY meet -- which I was waiting the whole movie for -- Ron encourages them to kiss or have a three-way. The women are both disgusted. <b>"Read the room, Ron," </b>Veronica says in my favorite part of the movie. Anyway, I couldn't find a .gif of it, but this was my same mistake. I did <i>not </i>read the room, and Quinn promptly yet politely ripped me an entirely new asshole.<br />
<br />
"I am purposely finding something else to do that afternoon because of how you are acting," he said. And I want to re-iterate that it was ... Nice. He didn't raise his voice, he didn't call me names, but rather he laid out his case in a way that I think was uncomfortable but important for him to do.<br />
<br />
My mother picked me up, and I was a horrific Father's Day guest as I took a nap the whole time. This summer cold was kicking my butt. There was no way I could go to the '90s that night for Mystery Porn Theater, but I really didn't want to miss out on the money. It's not an exorbitant amount of money, but it's cash in my hand that I get every week, and that's a nice feeling, especially if I'm going to go home right away and not spend it on tipping drag queens upstairs and going to The Saloon afterward.<br />
<br />
"How much do they pay you?" Loretta asked. "You sound TERRIBLE. I'll pay you if you stay home."<br />
<br />
I texted Reid at 8 P.M. (the show is at 10) and he graciously agreed to pinch-hit for me, and the staff at the '90s was very accommodating about letting the door person know. It pays to know people. I told my mom about the party, about the plans, about Liam, about Quinn and my asshole.<br />
<br />
"Well, you couldn't go because of your own life choices," she said. "Liam isn't the one who racked up a bunch of credit card debt. If you felt like shit about yourself, that's not his fault."<br />
"It wasn't <i>helping</i>," I pouted. "He was kicking me when I was down."<br />
"But does he know that?" she asked.<br />
"He knows I'm pissed," I said.<br />
"But does he know <i>why </i>you're pissed?" she asked, and the music at the end of every <i>Full House </i>episode started playing in my head.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZqP0QXJYaaxWNBoapQqRamekphjeDckaeQThHu7E4n4FYsu6vgu3RzbR0GGE1eV_sNF0Hpj37Jz_XIulW8jdvnAy9qHN_Wra2ymp3rrXBMuc0PerS9nf8AZCDCYfQ7PZgNUfR2sKVIbbS/s1600/stephanie.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZqP0QXJYaaxWNBoapQqRamekphjeDckaeQThHu7E4n4FYsu6vgu3RzbR0GGE1eV_sNF0Hpj37Jz_XIulW8jdvnAy9qHN_Wra2ymp3rrXBMuc0PerS9nf8AZCDCYfQ7PZgNUfR2sKVIbbS/s320/stephanie.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
"I told him from the get-go," I said. "I have the texts."<br />
"Here's the thing," she finally offered. "This isn't like it's your birthday party or a dinner party. It's Pride. It should be for everyone." My mother, a 59-year-old heterosexual, was able to understand that, and I wasn't.<br />
<br />
Over the next few days, I thought about Liamgate right before I went to bed and right when I woke up. It was consuming too much energy, and I realized the adage that the right thing to do and the hard thing to do are usually the same. When you choose to forgive, it's not so much about what it does for the other person, but what it does for you. Conversely, I have been in that position where all you want is forgiveness and reconciliation. I didn't get it. It's been over 450 days, not that I'm counting. I texted Liam like a grown-up and invited him to the party.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<br />
********<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKM3J7PCuAIZjvmIOoYlEKiRh3e5eOMmIJQmcxymv25e4zvrWjlvVQL5mnJP7aoVF9gKdILeL34JCI-_jQUr0WQH5Js7AjjDeUqTsvgyQIW6xKc_IrqO5L-lzuIVQyXb-6kZI_IqrsEcG_/s1600/kathygriffin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKM3J7PCuAIZjvmIOoYlEKiRh3e5eOMmIJQmcxymv25e4zvrWjlvVQL5mnJP7aoVF9gKdILeL34JCI-_jQUr0WQH5Js7AjjDeUqTsvgyQIW6xKc_IrqO5L-lzuIVQyXb-6kZI_IqrsEcG_/s320/kathygriffin.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
On Thursday night, Charlie and I went to the Kathy Griffin show! There were so many events going on during Pride, and this was like, the *one* splurge I did. We got free drinks courtesy of Lavender magazine and were uncharacteristically manly by ordering beers (I will always have a Leinenkugel's Summer Shandy). The woman continues to be my idol. She performed for TWO AND A HALF HOURS and opened with frank, very political discussion of a post-Orlando world that played well in liberal Minneapolis of Pride weekend but which she admitted would sound very different to the audience in Bloomington, Indiana the following day.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Charlie and I enjoyed The Saloon afterward, but I couldn't focus on much because I was so pre-occupied with the barbecue that was to occur the next day. As we walked around, one of the bar staff approached me.<br />
<br />
"Have you seen Detox out here?" he asked.<br />
"No," I answered, and then I didn't think to ask the important follow-up question, which is, is Detox in face or not?<br />
<br />
Later, on the patio, Detox was on the patio as a boy. People tried to get pictures. One person tried to get a picture and asked me "to take a picture of [him] and Alaska." Girl, at least get the name right. Steve got to meet Detox and was over the moon, and this made me feel better about the time I kind of ruined his chance to meet Derrick Barry. I shook Detox's hand and acted like I knew her. "Good to see you again," I said. "You too, sweetie," she said. We're on Team Bestie. I swear I only had the one naughty dream about Nebraska Thunderfuck and I woke up before anything nasty happened.<br />
<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Our BBQ was to be held at 3, and of course no one was prepared. Loretta and I went to Target at 1 P.M. I wrote "This is not a drill" and because the news has been so crazy, my friend Angie thought there was a crisis happening. The only crisis, thankfully, would have been if we tried to get them to accept my maxed-out Target card.<br />
<br />
We thought about buying a kiddie pool and then settled on a game of Jumbo UNO. It's like UNO but with jumbo cards!! I am easily amused.<br />
<br />
We got back to the house and Steve informed me that the keg and the ice weren't still there and that Markie, who had been champion of the keg in the first place, thought we should get it with my car.<br />
<br />
"Does he know I drive a Yaris?" I asked. "What are we gonna do, strap it to the roof? This is too stressful. I need a drink."<br />
"JACOB!" Loretta cried. "It's 2:30 in the afternoon. And you're not going to be a good host if people get here and you're already toasted."<br />
<br />
At 3:10 the first guests arrived! OH NO!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggY18DFWC_k_1h0-n4hq2KqjADl6hnxeoYf2OiKaw8mJoKju6oJxjYlrWR09udwwaxRtcydbYLphInWk07XjAcGVlwfIespnYCFw-6LPFLzUIWW6PMXhD0jutwNd5dcN-LDORiPxq0Ig3T/s1600/1stguests.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggY18DFWC_k_1h0-n4hq2KqjADl6hnxeoYf2OiKaw8mJoKju6oJxjYlrWR09udwwaxRtcydbYLphInWk07XjAcGVlwfIespnYCFw-6LPFLzUIWW6PMXhD0jutwNd5dcN-LDORiPxq0Ig3T/s320/1stguests.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
It was Robin and Charlie, and they were very sweet about not everything being ready right away. Robin was performing with Enticing Apartment all weekend, so he was spray-tanned to the gods. Reid arrived soon after, and we decided to play UNO outside. Before I knew it, the grill was there, the keg was there, the crockpot was there, more friends were there, and the longest game of UNO took so long that I had to sub out so that I can begin socializing. All of my panic was for nothing, which is kind of the motto of my life.<br />
<br />
Ria and Micah brought amazing potato salad and dip, the latter of which had beef in it and I felt bad because Quinn is a vegetarian and didn't know that until <i>after </i>he had a bite. Jenny bought amazing taco dip AND gummy bears soaked in vodka. Liam was there and in good spirits, and we both survived. Funny how that works.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFG6GA8ruP_LIl66QQBZcIO-9EWy5xWA4xHNoYSm66AOMJBY29KJOzbhnS7i80EnkpFAqyYBT0g5lmU8Kt9TzPeMJ0deUgx6uwljpakWahq5-Zv8lri3PyEjLaIsG3E8vQU6e9JB_kiHTv/s1600/chexmix.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFG6GA8ruP_LIl66QQBZcIO-9EWy5xWA4xHNoYSm66AOMJBY29KJOzbhnS7i80EnkpFAqyYBT0g5lmU8Kt9TzPeMJ0deUgx6uwljpakWahq5-Zv8lri3PyEjLaIsG3E8vQU6e9JB_kiHTv/s320/chexmix.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggUnTQCbPEbnF8Ui2EuI7eR-06dU_CmVIINGePzgy7jKGXKD63-mh5nXnAZQi16MAVvHc-Jrf7riigMUmJYZpRlV0MZfyqUqqaL-jXAYOjLG5sLBA1WFemG3brHCrTf-QYegIE00eNq0Az/s1600/blowingbubbles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggUnTQCbPEbnF8Ui2EuI7eR-06dU_CmVIINGePzgy7jKGXKD63-mh5nXnAZQi16MAVvHc-Jrf7riigMUmJYZpRlV0MZfyqUqqaL-jXAYOjLG5sLBA1WFemG3brHCrTf-QYegIE00eNq0Az/s320/blowingbubbles.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJpVIOwNn4oECgQ6R3AQCD8pRZsluF7mqxMKYk43cWZxZFuFRSq9T8EnAxFpCDEvhhmEQS30WGqq7mzHWNXWl9cnHJloeC_8yvIZWjnhwSsljjne2wOXNbuTp71jy4q_-bNeMKlR49DRyG/s1600/party.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJpVIOwNn4oECgQ6R3AQCD8pRZsluF7mqxMKYk43cWZxZFuFRSq9T8EnAxFpCDEvhhmEQS30WGqq7mzHWNXWl9cnHJloeC_8yvIZWjnhwSsljjne2wOXNbuTp71jy4q_-bNeMKlR49DRyG/s320/party.jpg" width="176" /></a></div>
<br />
I am so glad this party happened before Pokemon Go came out.<br />
<br />
<br />
We ended up with about 30 people at the house at one point. I even got to warn everyone that I was going to be in the bathroom for 20 minutes and if anybody needed it, go NOW. (Stomach problems are fun, aren't they?) Everyone had food and everyone drank and everyone signed the guestbook. I felt good about myself for having such an eclectic group there. A friend at my party didn't know anybody else there and told me that a
lot of times when you go to a gay party everyone can seem very cliquey
and this was the first time he had been to a party where there was such a
variety of people from different "scenes" or walks of life, and that made me think maybe I've been living my life right after all.<br />
<br />
I was especially thankful for Loretta. We don't get to choose our moms. Some of my friends have moms who don't
(or wouldn't) accept them, at least not right away. Some moms live far
away. Some moms have personal issues beyond themselves. Some moms are in
heaven. As for my mother, she said she was going to stay for ten minutes but stayed for four hours and wasn't compelled to leave until I did a keg stand.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDmXA47nz4aRBBTBOjxX4lR-AZIQzUOvLk_OD8QpgeZ6HRmqByaxs5JSAsVqsA9IYQy42Yz_SJrtZDm2iHxzjcToI8S0MVXGVU0zyCoT09gSWMWedyEcPDTfy35KOratlN2oGWEdSu_J5S/s1600/kegstand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDmXA47nz4aRBBTBOjxX4lR-AZIQzUOvLk_OD8QpgeZ6HRmqByaxs5JSAsVqsA9IYQy42Yz_SJrtZDm2iHxzjcToI8S0MVXGVU0zyCoT09gSWMWedyEcPDTfy35KOratlN2oGWEdSu_J5S/s320/kegstand.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just another Friday afternoon with the boys.<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Lawrence figured out how to use my iPod shuffle so we could all hear out, and a Mariah Carey gospel ballad came on. How could I not find the strength to do a keg stand??<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/a6zfjyY-w3E/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/a6zfjyY-w3E?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
Things only got stressful when it was time to choose teams for Flip Cup! Steve and I, as homeowners, were captains. My team got killed because I didn't pick very well. I had to pick Joey first because he would never speak to me ever again, and then I chose a cute U of M student because I wanted to hold hands with him (which never happened), and then I chose Micah because he was begging not to be picked last, and then I picked Reid, which meant poor Chuck got picked last. No matter, because we got our butts kicked, even if Reid won an entire round ALL BY HIMSELF and may have blown chunks later behind the house (I don't think he did, but I would have totally understood). I played with vodka because I am a classy, classy lady. Steve's team consisted of Markie, Chuck, J.C. who was in a skank tank and whose nipples I licked three times because I *told* you I was classy, and the boy who gave us the grill to use, which was very nice. Pride is all about this party and that party and what to wear, but I look back at the past two years and my barbecue has been what it's all about for me.<br />
<br />
Gradually, the party cleared out. My friend Woody came back to the house and helped me clean up the kitchen. Woody is also a professional athlete so I made sure he tried on four different shirts of mine to see which one would work best. I make my own fun. Jared, Markie, and a few others were still outside and it was already 11:30! I told them they could stay as long as they could, but to bring the chairs inside when they were done. Markie said he would lock the house and find me at The Saloon to deliver my keys.<br />
<br />
Whilst en route to The Saloon, I realized that as sad I was to not attend the Enticing Entertainment event (by far the biggest event being offered this weekend, and that was saying a lot), I couldn't have gone even if I had afforded it! I wasn't even getting to The Saloon until midnight, and the Enticing event would have required me to wear something cute.<br />
<br />
A block away, I realized I forgot my Saloon pass for the weekend at home! Ugh!<br />
<br />
"Should we go back?" Woody asked with concern.<br />
"I can turn around," said the Uber driver.<br />
"We'll risk it," I said. Worst case scenario, I could drop Woody off and then go back by myself to get the pass. It wouldn't be fair to delay his night.<br />
<br />
We arrived and I explained the situation to the bouncer, where he led me to a larger bouncer who saw my ID and crossed me off a list. Crisis averted! We're so quick to go on social media when business upset us, so I was sure to give them a shout-out the next day.<br />
<br />
We were too late to see any of the performances (The Saloon had a <i>stacked</i> deck that evening), but Erika Jayne came out to wave at us from the DJ booth, and that was good enough for me! (Her and Lisa Rinna faved my tweet to them this week. Did you know their birthdays are two days apart? I didn't, but finding out they're both Cancer babies explains so much to me. My two greatest passions in life are astrology and Real Housewives shows).<br />
<br />
The next day I was paranoid because I thought I lost my keys!!! AGGGGGHHH!!! I scrambled for half an hour and found them on the floor. I knew that Markie had given them back to me, even if he tried giving me a heart attack when he first feigned that he forgot them.<br />
<br />
It was hotter than Hades that Saturday, and I was scheduled to perform in the park at 3:30.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNoF38SBVe4SfcuGDr0GFGcCo6yAZXs8jqlFO0WZYVFwmkWLr3A7ea8YAvfpNH-EH3z6xp5gvj-tgRy2_bzK9M2MH5BH4IKNRu76WyIaQUsBE18unCGQXvMJoDecjRKK7s53qnPEsPrtdS/s1600/prideprogram.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNoF38SBVe4SfcuGDr0GFGcCo6yAZXs8jqlFO0WZYVFwmkWLr3A7ea8YAvfpNH-EH3z6xp5gvj-tgRy2_bzK9M2MH5BH4IKNRu76WyIaQUsBE18unCGQXvMJoDecjRKK7s53qnPEsPrtdS/s400/prideprogram.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bunch of talented people and then this asshole.<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Loretta was supposed to be at the North Memorial booth, but there was miscommunication so I ended up frantically trying to find her in the middle of a super-crowded Loring Park at 2 in the afternoon. I damn near started sobbing when I found her. I love Pride weekend, I love people, but I don't love the combination of massive crowds and a rising heat index (and apparently Pride had a turnout of 50,000 less this year than last).<br />
<br />
I made it to the stage by 3, chugged a water, and realized I hadn't prepared AT ALL about what I was going to talk about. And I had told everyone I was performing! Don't fuck it up, Emmert.<br />
<br />
I went onstage at 3:40 and apologized to the interpreter for the hearing impaired, who was probably going to have to massage her arms after I was done (I tend to talk just a little fast). I forgot where I was going a few times, but the crowd was great, and I was happy to see so many of my friends there. While I was in the middle of telling a delightful story about sticking a toothbrush up your rectum, a 5-year-old boy began walking toward the stage. You can't make this stuff up.<br />
<br />
After my set, I was happy to meet up with my fake cousins, the Emmerts!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNQqOXyE-zFSosc6RcXwRsw6gcPClfpO8xCduHf_zftvf63YAv5-H4cxPFdLxZJ7tI6aW2QjjUanxp2DREvIZqvONbb2g9xLgixnIQIBesltfA1T33CFGqOJ18t7X6Nc2bf3LtdBGhx55k/s1600/emmerts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNQqOXyE-zFSosc6RcXwRsw6gcPClfpO8xCduHf_zftvf63YAv5-H4cxPFdLxZJ7tI6aW2QjjUanxp2DREvIZqvONbb2g9xLgixnIQIBesltfA1T33CFGqOJ18t7X6Nc2bf3LtdBGhx55k/s320/emmerts.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
They are my fake cousins because while she share a surname, they have six-pack abs and no one on my tree has that going on. Trust.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNp96URbO-ylWrt3mPgkZn21xgUuvWDOFRgrwa9Ui-83Ie5hy9128J9HPZaLwznjG0_tc6m-_nucCFgnp2CzVdM16LEPMG4bdsf0xseLm5IYfur9LywU-FyvyzUsfzc9AANaP460689xBh/s1600/sarahandla.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNp96URbO-ylWrt3mPgkZn21xgUuvWDOFRgrwa9Ui-83Ie5hy9128J9HPZaLwznjG0_tc6m-_nucCFgnp2CzVdM16LEPMG4bdsf0xseLm5IYfur9LywU-FyvyzUsfzc9AANaP460689xBh/s320/sarahandla.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Sarah McPeck gave me the opportunity. Don't we just look DEWY, as Amber Preston would say?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3eOnpkohVOD1C-YmJeVMZNZiiofE7CBFUo89Ned0vuO8UX7jUuHpDitSEPd4JNm5hJkNbfrX_x7_gbxuRUUwgpHenXesqX9I600mWI3tcgJrFxU1f6eGWcZdiAi1cgXVTBKRunU4cFzew/s1600/spicysinaburger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3eOnpkohVOD1C-YmJeVMZNZiiofE7CBFUo89Ned0vuO8UX7jUuHpDitSEPd4JNm5hJkNbfrX_x7_gbxuRUUwgpHenXesqX9I600mWI3tcgJrFxU1f6eGWcZdiAi1cgXVTBKRunU4cFzew/s320/spicysinaburger.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I was so happy to see my spicy Sina Burger, who was there before there was even a <i>Loring Park</i> (the fake show, not the neighborhood). She would see me do comedy in the back rooms of dank restaurants. I would go to her fashion shows that would be delayed by three hours and they would say her name wrong. There is something to be said about those people who you meet when you're both on the way up. She is living her dream in Los Angeles now.<br />
<br />
After walking around in the park and the hot hot sun, I just wanted to take a nap! Unfortunately, I was too wired on adrenaline and caffeine. Instead I just laid down like a lazy-ass while Steve, Woody, and Jacey all cleaned the apartment. It's a miracle I have any friends. I think maybe I helped locate the dust pan at one point.<br />
<br />
Woody and Steve were headed to The Saloon, but Jacey and I wanted to go to Flip Phone XXL at First Ave! I love the First Ave shows because the venue is so big. It gives me that New York kind of a feel.<br />
<br />
If you are planning to attend a First Ave Flip Phone XXL show -- and they're having another one in August -- by your tickets online. My God, I can't stress that enough. Jacey and I were in line for 45 minutes and were debating leaving. While in line, we witnessed at least one fight in the street, another one that was escalated, two people told by First Ave security to go somewhere else, one girl immediately told that she was too drunk to be let in, and one guy come up to the people in front of us and perform a magic trick. My anxiety was only quelled by the fact that hot guys were in front of us, and behind us was Flip Phone Boy!!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyyn7K17HPCtFSPsTa5sMy-Q3YnUEpLJXvPrAuK4maHM_HcPS5QpjN0NTndVUYcdB6mRY0CS-iqXQ1BJiUbtI4yGT76rPdmgR-HadCF_wGSZdd1bf6BiLm0r5UO3filJpvOK-fN_igr44I/s1600/biganghi.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyyn7K17HPCtFSPsTa5sMy-Q3YnUEpLJXvPrAuK4maHM_HcPS5QpjN0NTndVUYcdB6mRY0CS-iqXQ1BJiUbtI4yGT76rPdmgR-HadCF_wGSZdd1bf6BiLm0r5UO3filJpvOK-fN_igr44I/s320/biganghi.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
So Flip Phone Boy is one of the cutest boys who has ever lived and I ONLY SEE HIM AT FLIP PHONE EVENTS. He is ridiculously quiet and I have even talked to him once (and I forget his name). He had Pikachu on his shirt and I kept saying "Pika pika" but he wasn't getting it. Sigh.<br />
<br />
Anyway, Jacey and I finally got in, and "Formation" was playing and we ran to the dance floor and knew all the words. It was a highlight. I ran into my friend Chad from my Fringe play, and got a video taken of me while a couple made out like rabbits behind me.<br />
<br />
Jacey and I went to the front of the dance floor, where we were right in front of the speakers. A man chastised Jacey for being too loud. AT A NIGHTCLUB ON THE DANCE FLOOR IN FRONT OF THE SPEAKERS. I just can't with some people.<br />
<br />
Jacey was getting more male attention than I was, so I talked to my friend from Ohio for a bit and then we were off to see the kids at The Saloon!<br />
<br />
I reunited with Jared's friends who had seen me perform in the park, and then I grabbed Joey and Jared by the hand like a mom on a school field trip.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWAdiuSQyMjmR1p8FyMdNQzQcdaFn_NZ91LsYfJ0OuncDPsFtfznV_YzcqBzVzr1NEN-H_7FXPqAjgCLiKxWUivTCsqHRoEsca4aQGrA8XXwx1azPwyBKmU4ppcj-j0FjI0uvU0PENNUpP/s1600/trio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWAdiuSQyMjmR1p8FyMdNQzQcdaFn_NZ91LsYfJ0OuncDPsFtfznV_YzcqBzVzr1NEN-H_7FXPqAjgCLiKxWUivTCsqHRoEsca4aQGrA8XXwx1azPwyBKmU4ppcj-j0FjI0uvU0PENNUpP/s320/trio.jpg" width="179" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
"I don't want to be sappy," I said, "But I realized that this is now our fourth Pride together, and I know that a lot has changed in our lives, but you two are my best friends and I can't imagine doing this for four years with anybody else."<br />
"Don't cry or I'll cry," Jared said.<br />
"I'm not crying," I said. "I'm allergic to everything."<br />
Jared cried and I cried and Joey didn't cry but he is Irish and he was also wearing big glasses.<br />
<br />
Toward the end of the night, Adore Delano (as a boy) walked by. I shook her hand and kissed her on the cheek even though he didn't ask for it and technically that is sexual assault, but he was very nice about it. Thank God. He later subtweeted club promoters who treat him like shit until they realize who he is, and I would give my left moob to find out which club he meant.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Sunday morning, I had to get up bright and early to march in the parade! And by "had" I mean "chose to". Since I work at The Gay '90s for two hours a week, I have considered myself to be an employee, and thus I begged to march in the parade with them and The Ladies of La Femme.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6jwqJzBKHWSGYwHHu3kKsLW9Oi0BQVWUo7V8ZK-Y5BvsId1uVQwltr9T4Re_xtibJY6AIn-NPUnzogtvaot9vEsY1zNAUHSDzSnjve364jcYtNFMRIEmSZ_QsdPlNWu5CKV25zi0k8AJ-/s1600/90sboys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6jwqJzBKHWSGYwHHu3kKsLW9Oi0BQVWUo7V8ZK-Y5BvsId1uVQwltr9T4Re_xtibJY6AIn-NPUnzogtvaot9vEsY1zNAUHSDzSnjve364jcYtNFMRIEmSZ_QsdPlNWu5CKV25zi0k8AJ-/s320/90sboys.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
That means I had to hang out with these three all morning. Such rough work, I know.<br />
<br />
I got to the '90s at 10:15 and had a vodka red bull. God bless Pride weekend. Nevertheless, we had to work! See those big wings Tim (in the middle) has on? Those were part of Prada Diamond's ornate costume, so we had to walk those very carefully down three blocks of crowded people to get to the parking lot.<br />
<br />
The Minneapolis gay pride parade is one of the largest in the nation -- it clocks in at a little over two hours long. Every float has a number, obviously in order as to when they march. The '90s was Float #129. That's a lot of waiting, in the heat, in the blazing sun, in a parking lot until your time is ready.<br />
<br />
Leslie, the owner of The Brass Rail, was getting irritated because not all of the queens were ready and they needed to take a group picture. There's something I can't explain about women who run bars that I just love. I think you have to be a special kind of brassy to be a woman who does that job.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZLR8CDE0zv3sQ1byXsv6XKjuv-SQrqdZNT64aq6k8eXsbWsgrIz_QRY0iYoMAS8cZ_py9mLGefBRib_DHBv6B4XaiwuhqLGPjVn2g4XZiNTt2yYcGCrmJ6S33CQ5o7B7QTjVXydu1m3m2/s1600/90sfloat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZLR8CDE0zv3sQ1byXsv6XKjuv-SQrqdZNT64aq6k8eXsbWsgrIz_QRY0iYoMAS8cZ_py9mLGefBRib_DHBv6B4XaiwuhqLGPjVn2g4XZiNTt2yYcGCrmJ6S33CQ5o7B7QTjVXydu1m3m2/s400/90sfloat.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Who's the weirdo in the pink checkered shirt? Oh, right. I didn't even think I should be in the picture and Prada made sure I was represented. Lila Vera had me rip the skin off her hand at one point. The queen two above me, diagonally, I don't know her name but we lip-synced together. Brandonna and Christina are EVERYTHING.<br />
<br />
Anygay, it was hotter than a sweat lodge owner's armpit out there, but no one was complaining, not any of the men who were there on behalf of the '90s, and certainly none of the queens who were cinched to the gods and in full face, so who the hell was I to complain? The Saloon was the float ahead of us and they misted us with sunscreen, as did a woman from the Summit float. There was a sense of community.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsm4zqsrtaoHnuMo75NT1t4SBd07kvbzViMxyIKpScCC6ToCw5y9ATL69Hq_wRvAs0YCTbC0JIjrnVd251YLzJ1itHy4ZZR5UhTMFn01MIe6h6t8ZVyUS2Grpc5WhB2GxwZZlRY0BR0f05/s1600/happypride.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsm4zqsrtaoHnuMo75NT1t4SBd07kvbzViMxyIKpScCC6ToCw5y9ATL69Hq_wRvAs0YCTbC0JIjrnVd251YLzJ1itHy4ZZR5UhTMFn01MIe6h6t8ZVyUS2Grpc5WhB2GxwZZlRY0BR0f05/s400/happypride.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
<br />
I fit right in, don't I?<br />
<br />
Remember last year at Jetset when they did a "Hello Sailor" theme during Pride and I was the only one who dressed up? This year I got my picture taken with a cute boy in a sailor hat.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ijDwTf68Ck9sd_uaO9urlgg0mS5PNPt-rJtqvkMt3G1b07_ZF87BBonrF1vQc3m7c8NmVJjrcitbdiWvIlxvcqbGXJTRnnukygPRG4fXbKz5xUMLJiuBlnXGqVjr9q8GlPMjNlXvxbPt/s1600/hellosailor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ijDwTf68Ck9sd_uaO9urlgg0mS5PNPt-rJtqvkMt3G1b07_ZF87BBonrF1vQc3m7c8NmVJjrcitbdiWvIlxvcqbGXJTRnnukygPRG4fXbKz5xUMLJiuBlnXGqVjr9q8GlPMjNlXvxbPt/s320/hellosailor.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Also on The Saloon float was their official weekend host, porn star Boomer Banks! Jared is obsessed with him, to the point that he wouldn't go to The Tank when Boomer was there because he would get too embarrassed. Jared, who is one of the most gregarious, outgoing people EVER. Anyway, Boomer was just sitting there with an assistant, and I needed something to get my mind off of how stinking hot I was.<br />
<br />
"Hi, sorry, I was just wondering if I could get a picture?" I asked with my voice barely raising above five decibels.<br />
<br />
He raised an eyebrow at his handler and then turned to me. "Sure," he said, and then grabbed me with sexy sexy force. "Get in here."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5A3I8Vt5MB5yogiTn8O3atvQDmD6df_vNeje0P9IFkJ56m45zmPYf1F9oxLcUQFbZFgU8XdBkqdhcivAYUWY-l76bg1RyPzjQ-qvZ86O5LbuVQqIfuYmX5qR-3CtJPY1THhkKA4cW1nRW/s1600/iheartboomer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5A3I8Vt5MB5yogiTn8O3atvQDmD6df_vNeje0P9IFkJ56m45zmPYf1F9oxLcUQFbZFgU8XdBkqdhcivAYUWY-l76bg1RyPzjQ-qvZ86O5LbuVQqIfuYmX5qR-3CtJPY1THhkKA4cW1nRW/s320/iheartboomer.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
My friendship with Jared shall never be doubted again. This was my profile pic on Facebook for a while and I got so many friend requests for a while, and I can't imagine the disappointment once people found out they were adding the weirdo in the emoji hat and not Booker Banks, Sex God.<br />
<br />
Anyway, the parade FINALLY started and I can't begin to describe what an adrenaline rush it is. People cheer and whoop, they want all your free crap (if I would have given away a Frisbee to everyone who asked, I would have been empty by 5th avenue -- them's the breaks). As full of heatstroke as I may have been after, I wouldn't give any of it away.<br />
<br />
I should have stayed on the float with the queens back to the '90s, but I chose to walk instead. Sven found me and I realized I could barely even see straight. He took my hand to The Saloon for a cup of water, and then I stopped at Fantasy Gifts to buy porn for the '90s show. At Fantasy Gifts I realized my debit card was missing, so I charged it. Business expense!<br />
<br />
Then at the '90s I realized my keys were missing.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfMI1MsUA-TfqdxHUt_wI8Hn5ZW3r9hgF56kqvIb_bRLgLG1YrvMSJnye4peWweP0WexbW5tC8lszBSs37xkJRPjpIKQk9_tzsCmgwaosdIlTd2bivNIUOshg05YQGPv2mVj2b5VKc1HVb/s1600/angkillmyself.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfMI1MsUA-TfqdxHUt_wI8Hn5ZW3r9hgF56kqvIb_bRLgLG1YrvMSJnye4peWweP0WexbW5tC8lszBSs37xkJRPjpIKQk9_tzsCmgwaosdIlTd2bivNIUOshg05YQGPv2mVj2b5VKc1HVb/s400/angkillmyself.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Forget the fact that all those pictures are of me with hot guys. I'm going to remember them as me with my keys. Also, I was driving everyone nuts at the '90s because the door to the main bar was locked (staff only), and I kept trying to go back and forth trying to see if anybody had seen my damn keys. The struggle bus was so real, and I was the driver and passenger.<br />
<br />
Steve was hoping to find me in the park, and I explained to him the situation. He didn't seem to be that upset, which was good. Still! I hadn't lost my keys in, like, months, and I had JUST lost my debit card that Thursday, got it replaced on Friday, and then found the new (now moot one) Saturday night. UGGGGGHHHHHHH.<br />
<br />
After an arduous hour and a half, I finally made it to the park. I ran into Charlie first, who was with other friends, and I didn't want to rush Charlie, but Steve and Jacey and had been waiting for an hour now,<i> and where the fuck was the stupid Target thing????? I am going to have a meltdown!!!</i><br />
<br />
We finally made it to the park where Target was offering these blankets you can lay on -- lie on? The one grammatical mystery to me -- and I tried to just calm myself down. People would mention anything and I could talk about was my keys.<br />
<br />
"You look sunburned."<br />
"I lost my keys!"<br />
"I love Pride."<br />
"I lost my keys!"<br />
"I think that girl is passed out."<br />
"I lost my keys!"<br />
<br />
Steve, Jacey, Charlie, Woody, and I all laid on blankets and centered ourselves.<br />
<br />
"I know you're kind of a mess," Steve said, "But ... it's okay. I got you."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivNj-u7Q5tjiR1RXa7wiwWnZzpkjfStYpa5AY0edAT7uXdji4FFzboRJM1CET-iJMp34kecZZZneZNXJEW8SYfw0uIhaaEWlP8OVf950NfDV90bxEMp4Fjgy0-WE50IFFfis_BNLJ6pisZ/s1600/beyoncethankyou.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivNj-u7Q5tjiR1RXa7wiwWnZzpkjfStYpa5AY0edAT7uXdji4FFzboRJM1CET-iJMp34kecZZZneZNXJEW8SYfw0uIhaaEWlP8OVf950NfDV90bxEMp4Fjgy0-WE50IFFfis_BNLJ6pisZ/s1600/beyoncethankyou.gif" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Sometimes that's all you need to hear.<br />
<br />
The Lord further blessed me that afternoon because when I looked up, Flip Phone Boy was hula hooping! With his shirt off!<br />
<br />
"We should go soon," Jacey kept saying.<br />
"In a minute," I kept saying.<br />
<br />
Flip Phone Boy's hula hoop and landed on us! Finally! Our meet cute moment!<br />
<br />
"Sorry," he said with an embarrassed smile and quickly ran off, like a pixie.<br />
<br />
"Why don't you practice more?" Steve asked in annoyance.<br />
<br />
"STEVEN!" I cried, already planning the seating chart at our wedding.<br />
<br />
"He can't hear me," Steve said. "Calm down."<br />
<br />
We finally walked back to the house, where Jacey and I discussed how the heat is making everyone crazy (I suggested <i>The Bronx is Burning</i> as summer reading, as it's really only a sports book in disguise). Soon after, it was time for the Saloon block party!!<br />
<br />
At this point, I should note that my voice was NOW TOTALLY SHOT. I sounded like Miley Cyrus' speaking voice without the hint of bad-assery or sex.<br />
<br />
We made it to The Saloon, but I knew I would have to leave at 9:30 because I wanted to go do Mystery Porn 3000 at The Gay '90s, as I know felt closer to them than ever. So I didn't get to see all of Jordin Sparks, but I did get to see Wendy Ho, my former lover Boomer Banks, and Jordin Sparks play her early hits, which I was obsessed with in my youth!!! I had a moment when "Tattoo" came on. Nobody cared but me and I stayed in 2007.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/EspCzgXH0o0/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/EspCzgXH0o0?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
I vamoosed to The '90s, where the security guy didn't even think I was really doing a show, and I had a different bartender than usual (which was fine because he was in his underwear the whole time). I insisted on talking to everybody the whole time, and it didn't get weird until 11:30 when people thought I was a bartender. Also, I met a super hot guy who was a webcam model and I forgot his screen name even though he told me 11 times. Still, I only do cam4 and I think he's on a more expensive site.<br />
<br />
I went back to The Saloon, and things just got kinda weird. First of all, I Lady and the Tramped a chicken strip with Ryan Robertson, and if you would have told Season One Jakey that, he would have peed everywhere.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn0ztAe6cPhkDfmCe3UE1GCc9YZozCuDfzQDjSNgK3iHaExjfQCQYZPJxLEqSkFqTIVo0SFt7QA0yBG5zHGO0e7JMcxwcDwpp05Js75VOKjzfWIdwEM2kpfqq0NboFp1buz-NIClxWIpJe/s1600/ladyandthetramp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn0ztAe6cPhkDfmCe3UE1GCc9YZozCuDfzQDjSNgK3iHaExjfQCQYZPJxLEqSkFqTIVo0SFt7QA0yBG5zHGO0e7JMcxwcDwpp05Js75VOKjzfWIdwEM2kpfqq0NboFp1buz-NIClxWIpJe/s320/ladyandthetramp.jpg" width="179" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I was getting to be increasingly tired. My age had caught up with me. Someone told me that I looked dead and I wasn't even offended. I just wanted to leave but Steve had the keys and I felt terrible about the whole thing, so I ended up going to a hotel party with Joey, co-workers, and a random woman who was under the influence of SOMETHING. The next day I went back to the house to get my keys to copy, and after some random errands, I realized there was no absolute way I could have done a post-Pride party! Even if I had technically only worked about four hours over the weekend, Auntie Debby was a sore and sunburned mess, but I still think it was totally worth it. I had a box of Dots and a bottle of kamboucha and was happy to feel exhausted. If this was to be the last Pride of my twenties, I couldn't have asked for a better one.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Next week: the biggest show of Jakey's career! Make or break.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />jakeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05687321925107280139noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7757619093854217193.post-42464348791484857492016-07-15T18:09:00.006-07:002020-07-30T12:11:51.949-07:00Loring Park Episode #61: My Pride and Joy<br />
Pride weekend was upon us! But first it was Father's Day, and I have long given up hopes of finding a sugar daddy. I planned going to LUSH and then my grandparents' house, but I was also besotted by a horrific summer cold. My dreamy doctor put me on Prednisone and again expressed concerns about me being on it because it makes people hyper and I am already pretty "squirrely." I hope that's in my file.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I still made it to LUSH where I enjoyed brunch with my friends Ria and Micah and friends (relatives? I'm a bad listener) visiting from Kentucky. Steve had to work at 2 but stopped and said hello for a little bit.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxxLI2LjIm5jUy0YhxHmkXa99aypB0LllhShUwUYkm1PKjO6_sXlhbzh9J7XSP98QM2o2ALjxMGtOR5BA-XPxisAvx4yxvII3g3yXcSwuYOOa3ulVtkKOeArj924u8Mb3rJ4cHe782nKDq/s1600/lush.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxxLI2LjIm5jUy0YhxHmkXa99aypB0LllhShUwUYkm1PKjO6_sXlhbzh9J7XSP98QM2o2ALjxMGtOR5BA-XPxisAvx4yxvII3g3yXcSwuYOOa3ulVtkKOeArj924u8Mb3rJ4cHe782nKDq/s320/lush.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhskqAYbq8PF-KTm4NrvivXO5Bzm-ePb2dDbjK8T8kx7j11mESOQYpboAA5KpADdDtTm8Uk8p7awwh2FqolR9NhAsTIKk4wT3wOzE8wC6plXog1zAlFofgUfdseBaUVSDIOuIfVq7FNALOk/s1600/bae.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhskqAYbq8PF-KTm4NrvivXO5Bzm-ePb2dDbjK8T8kx7j11mESOQYpboAA5KpADdDtTm8Uk8p7awwh2FqolR9NhAsTIKk4wT3wOzE8wC6plXog1zAlFofgUfdseBaUVSDIOuIfVq7FNALOk/s320/bae.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
This was our server. TAKE ALL MY MONEY. He is a dancer/entertainer and had to work all of Pride weekend, the poor baby.<br />
<br />
Things were a little awkward because Liam was there and kept sitting at our table and I was trying to avoid him. I was immature and cryptic before, so I'm going to put it all in the open, because I've been watching a lot of Bethenny Frankel lately and I think it's important to note when you're in the wrong and acting like an asshole.<br />
<br />
When most of my friends went to Vegas for Jared's birthday, I was at home begging my mother to help pay my debt consolidation bill because I am broke as a joke as a result of my own poor decisions. I felt like shit about it but understood my current circumstances, and jokingly told my friends that if any of them went to the Mariah Carey concert, our friendship was over (none of them would have paid that much money to go see her, anyway. Britney? Maybe).<br />
<br />
Anyway, while the gang was in Vegas and I was eating my feelings on my mother's couch, Liam tagged everyone at Caesar's Palace for the Mariah Carey concert and tagged ME in it with the update of "making Jakey jealous". This was not the first or last thing he had done on social media in a very short span of time to hurt my feelings, but when I look back, it was probably the most egregious. The last one was a week later when he wrote "you look old" on a Valentine's Day picture that I thought I looked good in! Maybe my skin is thicker now that I live with someone who insults my appearance at least once a week, but I was feeling sensitive that winter. So I pushed the block button. So did Joey and so did Steve. I ran into him weeks later at the bar and he cried and I told him I would be cordial to him - I wasn't gonna ice anybody out. That being said, even in February I was worrying about him trying to come to my Pride party. I wasn't going to invite him because we weren't friends anymore. But what would I do if he showed up? Would I pull a Tamra Barney and yell "LEAVE!" like he was Alexis Bellino in Season 7 of The Real Housewives of Orange County?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsgeImj9Y1xbwzIMXVAoCMiQwv0ND7x2F7JbrlVepU6OGx6L3LicruAxYWN4Ul4xPlj2iwWCCQsSsUr8tvxcGk_zkEE3GbSUKvAuDtOYMaMHnZygOxDLbCxEgkluG_bPuhrSesGCvN-zPM/s1600/iunfriendyou.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsgeImj9Y1xbwzIMXVAoCMiQwv0ND7x2F7JbrlVepU6OGx6L3LicruAxYWN4Ul4xPlj2iwWCCQsSsUr8tvxcGk_zkEE3GbSUKvAuDtOYMaMHnZygOxDLbCxEgkluG_bPuhrSesGCvN-zPM/s320/iunfriendyou.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
Now, here we were four months later, and I still hadn't tried to have a real conversation about what happened. I wanted to stay upset and non-responsive.<br />
<br />
"I need to talk to you later," Liam said.<br />
<br />
"Okay," I said. And I knew what this was about because he had been texting me for a month about the Pride party and I wasn't responding.<br />
<br />
I told Ria and Micah about it and they are friends with both of us and didn't want to take sides, nor should they have. "You could always tell him it's a fire hazard and you can only invite a set number of people," Ria offered half-jokingly.<br />
<br />
I tersely texted "You're not invited" after he implored again. At the time I thought it was a good decision, that I had true to myself and my own values and self-esteem, and that everybody would agree with me.<br />
<br />
Um, no.<br />
<br />
Ria, Micah, and their friends left, and while awaiting my chariot of my mother's SUV, I sauntered over to the table where Quinn and Louis were sitting. I decided to use as my greeting that I had finally told Liam he could not come to the party.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQOtv1eZXZvMbXKZLaO8PSxcHOuzQPnFeKBSDALEx0Smc10fn-WOZSIgEVjROb3DgN09QfyIgowaO8e0BRF0xYChgmEwA-B5MpK6T8Ppi-maosDvlUoM5dbXMbUSLv0lwq_W8x83s2qO6W/s1600/anchorman2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQOtv1eZXZvMbXKZLaO8PSxcHOuzQPnFeKBSDALEx0Smc10fn-WOZSIgEVjROb3DgN09QfyIgowaO8e0BRF0xYChgmEwA-B5MpK6T8Ppi-maosDvlUoM5dbXMbUSLv0lwq_W8x83s2qO6W/s320/anchorman2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
This is a picture of Megan Good and Christina Applegate from the underrated <i>Anchorman 2</i>. There are a surprising amount of articles about the surprising feminism of that movie. Anyway, Christina is Veronica, Ron Burgundy's estranged wife, and Megan is Linda, his sexy producer whom he is having an affair with. When the women FINALLY meet -- which I was waiting the whole movie for -- Ron encourages them to kiss or have a three-way. The women are both disgusted. <b>"Read the room, Ron," </b>Veronica says in my favorite part of the movie. Anyway, I couldn't find a .gif of it, but this was my same mistake. I did <i>not </i>read the room, and Quinn promptly yet politely ripped me an entirely new asshole.<br />
<br />
"I am purposely finding something else to do that afternoon because of how you are acting," he said. And I want to re-iterate that it was ... Nice. He didn't raise his voice, he didn't call me names, but rather he laid out his case in a way that I think was uncomfortable but important for him to do.<br />
<br />
My mother picked me up, and I was a horrific Father's Day guest as I took a nap the whole time. This summer cold was kicking my butt. There was no way I could go to the '90s that night for Mystery Porn Theater, but I really didn't want to miss out on the money. It's not an exorbitant amount of money, but it's cash in my hand that I get every week, and that's a nice feeling, especially if I'm going to go home right away and not spend it on tipping drag queens upstairs and going to The Saloon afterward.<br />
<br />
"How much do they pay you?" Loretta asked. "You sound TERRIBLE. I'll pay you if you stay home."<br />
<br />
I texted Reid at 8 P.M. (the show is at 10) and he graciously agreed to pinch-hit for me, and the staff at the '90s was very accommodating about letting the door person know. It pays to know people. I told my mom about the party, about the plans, about Liam, about Quinn and my asshole.<br />
<br />
"Well, you couldn't go because of your own life choices," she said. "Liam isn't the one who racked up a bunch of credit card debt. If you felt like shit about yourself, that's not his fault."<br />
"It wasn't <i>helping</i>," I pouted. "He was kicking me when I was down."<br />
"But does he know that?" she asked.<br />
"He knows I'm pissed," I said.<br />
"But does he know <i>why </i>you're pissed?" she asked, and the music at the end of every <i>Full House </i>episode started playing in my head.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZqP0QXJYaaxWNBoapQqRamekphjeDckaeQThHu7E4n4FYsu6vgu3RzbR0GGE1eV_sNF0Hpj37Jz_XIulW8jdvnAy9qHN_Wra2ymp3rrXBMuc0PerS9nf8AZCDCYfQ7PZgNUfR2sKVIbbS/s1600/stephanie.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZqP0QXJYaaxWNBoapQqRamekphjeDckaeQThHu7E4n4FYsu6vgu3RzbR0GGE1eV_sNF0Hpj37Jz_XIulW8jdvnAy9qHN_Wra2ymp3rrXBMuc0PerS9nf8AZCDCYfQ7PZgNUfR2sKVIbbS/s320/stephanie.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
"I told him from the get-go," I said. "I have the texts."<br />
"Here's the thing," she finally offered. "This isn't like it's your birthday party or a dinner party. It's Pride. It should be for everyone." My mother, a 59-year-old heterosexual, was able to understand that, and I wasn't.<br />
<br />
Over the next few days, I thought about Liamgate right before I went to bed and right when I woke up. It was consuming too much energy, and I realized the adage that the right thing to do and the hard thing to do are usually the same. When you choose to forgive, it's not so much about what it does for the other person, but what it does for you. Conversely, I have been in that position where all you want is forgiveness and reconciliation. I didn't get it. It's been over 450 days, not that I'm counting. I texted Liam like a grown-up and invited him to the party.<br />
<br />
********<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKM3J7PCuAIZjvmIOoYlEKiRh3e5eOMmIJQmcxymv25e4zvrWjlvVQL5mnJP7aoVF9gKdILeL34JCI-_jQUr0WQH5Js7AjjDeUqTsvgyQIW6xKc_IrqO5L-lzuIVQyXb-6kZI_IqrsEcG_/s1600/kathygriffin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKM3J7PCuAIZjvmIOoYlEKiRh3e5eOMmIJQmcxymv25e4zvrWjlvVQL5mnJP7aoVF9gKdILeL34JCI-_jQUr0WQH5Js7AjjDeUqTsvgyQIW6xKc_IrqO5L-lzuIVQyXb-6kZI_IqrsEcG_/s320/kathygriffin.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
On Thursday night, Charlie and I went to the Kathy Griffin show! There were so many events going on during Pride, and this was like, the *one* splurge I did. We got free drinks courtesy of Lavender magazine and were uncharacteristically manly by ordering beers (I will always have a Leinenkugel's Summer Shandy). The woman continues to be my idol. She performed for TWO AND A HALF HOURS and opened with frank, very political discussion of a post-Orlando world that played well in liberal Minneapolis of Pride weekend but which she admitted would sound very different to the audience in Bloomington, Indiana the following day.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Charlie and I enjoyed The Saloon afterward, but I couldn't focus on much because I was so pre-occupied with the barbecue that was to occur the next day. As we walked around, one of the bar staff approached me.<br />
<br />
"Have you seen Detox out here?" he asked.<br />
"No," I answered, and then I didn't think to ask the important follow-up question, which is, is Detox in face or not?<br />
<br />
Later, on the patio, Detox was on the patio as a boy. People tried to get pictures. One person tried to get a picture and asked me "to take a picture of [him] and Alaska." Girl, at least get the name right. Steve got to meet Detox and was over the moon, and this made me feel better about the time I kind of ruined his chance to meet Derrick Barry. I shook Detox's hand and acted like I knew her. "Good to see you again," I said. "You too, sweetie," she said. We're on Team Bestie. I swear I only had the one naughty dream about Nebraska Thunderfuck and I woke up before anything nasty happened.<br />
<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Our BBQ was to be held at 3, and of course no one was prepared. Loretta and I went to Target at 1 P.M. I wrote "This is not a drill" and because the news has been so crazy, my friend Angie thought there was a crisis happening. The only crisis, thankfully, would have been if we tried to get them to accept my maxed-out Target card.<br />
<br />
We thought about buying a kiddie pool and then settled on a game of Jumbo UNO. It's like UNO but with jumbo cards!! I am easily amused.<br />
<br />
We got back to the house and Steve informed me that the keg and the ice weren't still there and that Markie, who had been champion of the keg in the first place, thought we should get it with my car.<br />
<br />
"Does he know I drive a Yaris?" I asked. "What are we gonna do, strap it to the roof? This is too stressful. I need a drink."<br />
"JACOB!" Loretta cried. "It's 2:30 in the afternoon. And you're not going to be a good host if people get here and you're already toasted."<br />
<br />
At 3:10 the first guests arrived! OH NO!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggY18DFWC_k_1h0-n4hq2KqjADl6hnxeoYf2OiKaw8mJoKju6oJxjYlrWR09udwwaxRtcydbYLphInWk07XjAcGVlwfIespnYCFw-6LPFLzUIWW6PMXhD0jutwNd5dcN-LDORiPxq0Ig3T/s1600/1stguests.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggY18DFWC_k_1h0-n4hq2KqjADl6hnxeoYf2OiKaw8mJoKju6oJxjYlrWR09udwwaxRtcydbYLphInWk07XjAcGVlwfIespnYCFw-6LPFLzUIWW6PMXhD0jutwNd5dcN-LDORiPxq0Ig3T/s320/1stguests.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
It was Robin and Charlie, and they were very sweet about not everything being ready right away. Robin was performing with Enticing Apartment all weekend, so he was spray-tanned to the gods. Reid arrived soon after, and we decided to play UNO outside. Before I knew it, the grill was there, the keg was there, the crockpot was there, more friends were there, and the longest game of UNO took so long that I had to sub out so that I can begin socializing. All of my panic was for nothing, which is kind of the motto of my life.<br />
<br />
Ria and Micah brought amazing potato salad and dip, the latter of which had beef in it and I felt bad because Quinn is a vegetarian and didn't know that until <i>after </i>he had a bite. Jenny bought amazing taco dip AND gummy bears soaked in vodka. Liam was there and in good spirits, and we both survived. Funny how that works.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFG6GA8ruP_LIl66QQBZcIO-9EWy5xWA4xHNoYSm66AOMJBY29KJOzbhnS7i80EnkpFAqyYBT0g5lmU8Kt9TzPeMJ0deUgx6uwljpakWahq5-Zv8lri3PyEjLaIsG3E8vQU6e9JB_kiHTv/s1600/chexmix.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFG6GA8ruP_LIl66QQBZcIO-9EWy5xWA4xHNoYSm66AOMJBY29KJOzbhnS7i80EnkpFAqyYBT0g5lmU8Kt9TzPeMJ0deUgx6uwljpakWahq5-Zv8lri3PyEjLaIsG3E8vQU6e9JB_kiHTv/s320/chexmix.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggUnTQCbPEbnF8Ui2EuI7eR-06dU_CmVIINGePzgy7jKGXKD63-mh5nXnAZQi16MAVvHc-Jrf7riigMUmJYZpRlV0MZfyqUqqaL-jXAYOjLG5sLBA1WFemG3brHCrTf-QYegIE00eNq0Az/s1600/blowingbubbles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggUnTQCbPEbnF8Ui2EuI7eR-06dU_CmVIINGePzgy7jKGXKD63-mh5nXnAZQi16MAVvHc-Jrf7riigMUmJYZpRlV0MZfyqUqqaL-jXAYOjLG5sLBA1WFemG3brHCrTf-QYegIE00eNq0Az/s320/blowingbubbles.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJpVIOwNn4oECgQ6R3AQCD8pRZsluF7mqxMKYk43cWZxZFuFRSq9T8EnAxFpCDEvhhmEQS30WGqq7mzHWNXWl9cnHJloeC_8yvIZWjnhwSsljjne2wOXNbuTp71jy4q_-bNeMKlR49DRyG/s1600/party.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJpVIOwNn4oECgQ6R3AQCD8pRZsluF7mqxMKYk43cWZxZFuFRSq9T8EnAxFpCDEvhhmEQS30WGqq7mzHWNXWl9cnHJloeC_8yvIZWjnhwSsljjne2wOXNbuTp71jy4q_-bNeMKlR49DRyG/s320/party.jpg" width="176" /></a></div>
<br />
I am so glad this party happened before Pokemon Go came out.<br />
<br />
<br />
We ended up with about 30 people at the house at one point. I even got to warn everyone that I was going to be in the bathroom for 20 minutes and if anybody needed it, go NOW. (Stomach problems are fun, aren't they?) Everyone had food and everyone drank and everyone signed the guestbook. I felt good about myself for having such an eclectic group there. A friend at my party didn't know anybody else there and told me that a
lot of times when you go to a gay party everyone can seem very cliquey
and this was the first time he had been to a party where there was such a
variety of people from different "scenes" or walks of life, and that made me think maybe I've been living my life right after all.<br />
<br />
I was especially thankful for Loretta. We don't get to choose our moms. Some of my friends have moms who don't
(or wouldn't) accept them, at least not right away. Some moms live far
away. Some moms have personal issues beyond themselves. Some moms are in
heaven. As for my mother, she said she was going to stay for ten minutes but stayed for four hours and wasn't compelled to leave until I did a keg stand.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDmXA47nz4aRBBTBOjxX4lR-AZIQzUOvLk_OD8QpgeZ6HRmqByaxs5JSAsVqsA9IYQy42Yz_SJrtZDm2iHxzjcToI8S0MVXGVU0zyCoT09gSWMWedyEcPDTfy35KOratlN2oGWEdSu_J5S/s1600/kegstand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDmXA47nz4aRBBTBOjxX4lR-AZIQzUOvLk_OD8QpgeZ6HRmqByaxs5JSAsVqsA9IYQy42Yz_SJrtZDm2iHxzjcToI8S0MVXGVU0zyCoT09gSWMWedyEcPDTfy35KOratlN2oGWEdSu_J5S/s320/kegstand.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just another Friday afternoon with the boys.<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Lawrence figured out how to use my iPod shuffle so we could all hear out, and a Mariah Carey gospel ballad came on. How could I not find the strength to do a keg stand??<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/a6zfjyY-w3E/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/a6zfjyY-w3E?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
Things only got stressful when it was time to choose teams for Flip Cup! Steve and I, as homeowners, were captains. My team got killed because I didn't pick very well. I had to pick Joey first because he would never speak to me ever again, and then I chose a cute U of M student because I wanted to hold hands with him (which never happened), and then I chose Micah because he was begging not to be picked last, and then I picked Reid, which meant poor Chuck got picked last. No matter, because we got our butts kicked, even if Reid won an entire round ALL BY HIMSELF and may have blown chunks later behind the house (I don't think he did, but I would have totally understood). I played with vodka because I am a classy, classy lady. Steve's team consisted of Markie, Chuck, J.C. who was in a skank tank and whose nipples I licked three times because I *told* you I was classy, and the boy who gave us the grill to use, which was very nice. Pride is all about this party and that party and what to wear, but I look back at the past two years and my barbecue has been what it's all about for me.<br />
<br />
Gradually, the party cleared out. My friend Woody came back to the house and helped me clean up the kitchen. Woody is also a professional athlete so I made sure he tried on four different shirts of mine to see which one would work best. I make my own fun. Jared, Markie, and a few others were still outside and it was already 11:30! I told them they could stay as long as they could, but to bring the chairs inside when they were done. Markie said he would lock the house and find me at The Saloon to deliver my keys.<br />
<br />
Whilst en route to The Saloon, I realized that as sad I was to not attend the Enticing Entertainment event (by far the biggest event being offered this weekend, and that was saying a lot), I couldn't have gone even if I had afforded it! I wasn't even getting to The Saloon until midnight, and the Enticing event would have required me to wear something cute.<br />
<br />
A block away, I realized I forgot my Saloon pass for the weekend at home! Ugh!<br />
<br />
"Should we go back?" Woody asked with concern.<br />
"I can turn around," said the Uber driver.<br />
"We'll risk it," I said. Worst case scenario, I could drop Woody off and then go back by myself to get the pass. It wouldn't be fair to delay his night.<br />
<br />
We arrived and I explained the situation to the bouncer, where he led me to a larger bouncer who saw my ID and crossed me off a list. Crisis averted! We're so quick to go on social media when business upset us, so I was sure to give them a shout-out the next day.<br />
<br />
We were too late to see any of the performances (The Saloon had a <i>stacked</i> deck that evening), but Erika Jayne came out to wave at us from the DJ booth, and that was good enough for me! (Her and Lisa Rinna faved my tweet to them this week. Did you know their birthdays are two days apart? I didn't, but finding out they're both Cancer babies explains so much to me. My two greatest passions in life are astrology and Real Housewives shows).<br />
<br />
The next day I was paranoid because I thought I lost my keys!!! AGGGGGHHH!!! I scrambled for half an hour and found them on the floor. I knew that Markie had given them back to me, even if he tried giving me a heart attack when he first feigned that he forgot them.<br />
<br />
It was hotter than Hades that Saturday, and I was scheduled to perform in the park at 3:30.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNoF38SBVe4SfcuGDr0GFGcCo6yAZXs8jqlFO0WZYVFwmkWLr3A7ea8YAvfpNH-EH3z6xp5gvj-tgRy2_bzK9M2MH5BH4IKNRu76WyIaQUsBE18unCGQXvMJoDecjRKK7s53qnPEsPrtdS/s1600/prideprogram.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNoF38SBVe4SfcuGDr0GFGcCo6yAZXs8jqlFO0WZYVFwmkWLr3A7ea8YAvfpNH-EH3z6xp5gvj-tgRy2_bzK9M2MH5BH4IKNRu76WyIaQUsBE18unCGQXvMJoDecjRKK7s53qnPEsPrtdS/s400/prideprogram.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bunch of talented people and then this asshole.<br />
<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Loretta was supposed to be at the North Memorial booth, but there was miscommunication so I ended up frantically trying to find her in the middle of a super-crowded Loring Park at 2 in the afternoon. I damn near started sobbing when I found her. I love Pride weekend, I love people, but I don't love the combination of massive crowds and a rising heat index (and apparently Pride had a turnout of 50,000 less this year than last).<br />
<br />
I made it to the stage by 3, chugged a water, and realized I hadn't prepared AT ALL about what I was going to talk about. And I had told everyone I was performing! Don't fuck it up, Emmert.<br />
<br />
I went onstage at 3:40 and apologized to the interpreter for the hearing impaired, who was probably going to have to massage her arms after I was done (I tend to talk just a little fast). I forgot where I was going a few times, but the crowd was great, and I was happy to see so many of my friends there. While I was in the middle of telling a delightful story about sticking a toothbrush up your rectum, a 5-year-old boy began walking toward the stage. You can't make this stuff up.<br />
<br />
After my set, I was happy to meet up with my fake cousins, the Emmerts!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNQqOXyE-zFSosc6RcXwRsw6gcPClfpO8xCduHf_zftvf63YAv5-H4cxPFdLxZJ7tI6aW2QjjUanxp2DREvIZqvONbb2g9xLgixnIQIBesltfA1T33CFGqOJ18t7X6Nc2bf3LtdBGhx55k/s1600/emmerts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNQqOXyE-zFSosc6RcXwRsw6gcPClfpO8xCduHf_zftvf63YAv5-H4cxPFdLxZJ7tI6aW2QjjUanxp2DREvIZqvONbb2g9xLgixnIQIBesltfA1T33CFGqOJ18t7X6Nc2bf3LtdBGhx55k/s320/emmerts.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
They are my fake cousins because while she share a surname, they have six-pack abs and no one on my tree has that going on. Trust.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNp96URbO-ylWrt3mPgkZn21xgUuvWDOFRgrwa9Ui-83Ie5hy9128J9HPZaLwznjG0_tc6m-_nucCFgnp2CzVdM16LEPMG4bdsf0xseLm5IYfur9LywU-FyvyzUsfzc9AANaP460689xBh/s1600/sarahandla.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNp96URbO-ylWrt3mPgkZn21xgUuvWDOFRgrwa9Ui-83Ie5hy9128J9HPZaLwznjG0_tc6m-_nucCFgnp2CzVdM16LEPMG4bdsf0xseLm5IYfur9LywU-FyvyzUsfzc9AANaP460689xBh/s320/sarahandla.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Sarah McPeck gave me the opportunity. Don't we just look DEWY, as Amber Preston would say?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3eOnpkohVOD1C-YmJeVMZNZiiofE7CBFUo89Ned0vuO8UX7jUuHpDitSEPd4JNm5hJkNbfrX_x7_gbxuRUUwgpHenXesqX9I600mWI3tcgJrFxU1f6eGWcZdiAi1cgXVTBKRunU4cFzew/s1600/spicysinaburger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3eOnpkohVOD1C-YmJeVMZNZiiofE7CBFUo89Ned0vuO8UX7jUuHpDitSEPd4JNm5hJkNbfrX_x7_gbxuRUUwgpHenXesqX9I600mWI3tcgJrFxU1f6eGWcZdiAi1cgXVTBKRunU4cFzew/s320/spicysinaburger.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I was so happy to see my spicy Sina Burger, who was there before there was even a <i>Loring Park</i> (the fake show, not the neighborhood). She would see me do comedy in the back rooms of dank restaurants. I would go to her fashion shows that would be delayed by three hours and they would say her name wrong. There is something to be said about those people who you meet when you're both on the way up. She is living her dream in Los Angeles now.<br />
<br />
After walking around in the park and the hot hot sun, I just wanted to take a nap! Unfortunately, I was too wired on adrenaline and caffeine. Instead I just laid down like a lazy-ass while Steve, Woody, and Jacey all cleaned the apartment. It's a miracle I have any friends. I think maybe I helped locate the dust pan at one point.<br />
<br />
Woody and Steve were headed to The Saloon, but Jacey and I wanted to go to Flip Phone XXL at First Ave! I love the First Ave shows because the venue is so big. It gives me that New York kind of a feel.<br />
<br />
If you are planning to attend a First Ave Flip Phone XXL show -- and they're having another one in August -- by your tickets online. My God, I can't stress that enough. Jacey and I were in line for 45 minutes and were debating leaving. While in line, we witnessed at least one fight in the street, another one that was escalated, two people told by First Ave security to go somewhere else, one girl immediately told that she was too drunk to be let in, and one guy come up to the people in front of us and perform a magic trick. My anxiety was only quelled by the fact that hot guys were in front of us, and behind us was Flip Phone Boy!!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyyn7K17HPCtFSPsTa5sMy-Q3YnUEpLJXvPrAuK4maHM_HcPS5QpjN0NTndVUYcdB6mRY0CS-iqXQ1BJiUbtI4yGT76rPdmgR-HadCF_wGSZdd1bf6BiLm0r5UO3filJpvOK-fN_igr44I/s1600/biganghi.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyyn7K17HPCtFSPsTa5sMy-Q3YnUEpLJXvPrAuK4maHM_HcPS5QpjN0NTndVUYcdB6mRY0CS-iqXQ1BJiUbtI4yGT76rPdmgR-HadCF_wGSZdd1bf6BiLm0r5UO3filJpvOK-fN_igr44I/s320/biganghi.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
So Flip Phone Boy is one of the cutest boys who has ever lived and I ONLY SEE HIM AT FLIP PHONE EVENTS. He is ridiculously quiet and I have even talked to him once (and I forget his name). He had Pikachu on his shirt and I kept saying "Pika pika" but he wasn't getting it. Sigh.<br />
<br />
Anyway, Jacey and I finally got in, and "Formation" was playing and we ran to the dance floor and knew all the words. It was a highlight. I ran into my friend Chad from my Fringe play, and got a video taken of me while a couple made out like rabbits behind me.<br />
<br />
Jacey and I went to the front of the dance floor, where we were right in front of the speakers. A man chastised Jacey for being too loud. AT A NIGHTCLUB ON THE DANCE FLOOR IN FRONT OF THE SPEAKERS. I just can't with some people.<br />
<br />
Jacey was getting more male attention than I was, so I talked to my friend from Ohio for a bit and then we were off to see the kids at The Saloon!<br />
<br />
I reunited with Jared's friends who had seen me perform in the park, and then I grabbed Joey and Jared by the hand like a mom on a school field trip.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWAdiuSQyMjmR1p8FyMdNQzQcdaFn_NZ91LsYfJ0OuncDPsFtfznV_YzcqBzVzr1NEN-H_7FXPqAjgCLiKxWUivTCsqHRoEsca4aQGrA8XXwx1azPwyBKmU4ppcj-j0FjI0uvU0PENNUpP/s1600/trio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWAdiuSQyMjmR1p8FyMdNQzQcdaFn_NZ91LsYfJ0OuncDPsFtfznV_YzcqBzVzr1NEN-H_7FXPqAjgCLiKxWUivTCsqHRoEsca4aQGrA8XXwx1azPwyBKmU4ppcj-j0FjI0uvU0PENNUpP/s320/trio.jpg" width="179" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
"I don't want to be sappy," I said, "But I realized that this is now our fourth Pride together, and I know that a lot has changed in our lives, but you two are my best friends and I can't imagine doing this for four years with anybody else."<br />
"Don't cry or I'll cry," Jared said.<br />
"I'm not crying," I said. "I'm allergic to everything."<br />
Jared cried and I cried and Joey didn't cry but he is Irish and he was also wearing big glasses.<br />
<br />
Toward the end of the night, Adore Delano (as a boy) walked by. I shook her hand and kissed her on the cheek even though he didn't ask for it and technically that is sexual assault, but he was very nice about it. Thank God. He later subtweeted club promoters who treat him like shit until they realize who he is, and I would give my left moob to find out which club he meant.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Sunday morning, I had to get up bright and early to march in the parade! And by "had" I mean "chose to". Since I work at The Gay '90s for two hours a week, I have considered myself to be an employee, and thus I begged to march in the parade with them and The Ladies of La Femme.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6jwqJzBKHWSGYwHHu3kKsLW9Oi0BQVWUo7V8ZK-Y5BvsId1uVQwltr9T4Re_xtibJY6AIn-NPUnzogtvaot9vEsY1zNAUHSDzSnjve364jcYtNFMRIEmSZ_QsdPlNWu5CKV25zi0k8AJ-/s1600/90sboys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6jwqJzBKHWSGYwHHu3kKsLW9Oi0BQVWUo7V8ZK-Y5BvsId1uVQwltr9T4Re_xtibJY6AIn-NPUnzogtvaot9vEsY1zNAUHSDzSnjve364jcYtNFMRIEmSZ_QsdPlNWu5CKV25zi0k8AJ-/s320/90sboys.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
That means I had to hang out with these three all morning. Such rough work, I know.<br />
<br />
I got to the '90s at 10:15 and had a vodka red bull. God bless Pride weekend. Nevertheless, we had to work! See those big wings Tim (in the middle) has on? Those were part of Prada Diamond's ornate costume, so we had to walk those very carefully down three blocks of crowded people to get to the parking lot.<br />
<br />
The Minneapolis gay pride parade is one of the largest in the nation -- it clocks in at a little over two hours long. Every float has a number, obviously in order as to when they march. The '90s was Float #129. That's a lot of waiting, in the heat, in the blazing sun, in a parking lot until your time is ready.<br />
<br />
Leslie, the owner of The Brass Rail, was getting irritated because not all of the queens were ready and they needed to take a group picture. There's something I can't explain about women who run bars that I just love. I think you have to be a special kind of brassy to be a woman who does that job.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZLR8CDE0zv3sQ1byXsv6XKjuv-SQrqdZNT64aq6k8eXsbWsgrIz_QRY0iYoMAS8cZ_py9mLGefBRib_DHBv6B4XaiwuhqLGPjVn2g4XZiNTt2yYcGCrmJ6S33CQ5o7B7QTjVXydu1m3m2/s1600/90sfloat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZLR8CDE0zv3sQ1byXsv6XKjuv-SQrqdZNT64aq6k8eXsbWsgrIz_QRY0iYoMAS8cZ_py9mLGefBRib_DHBv6B4XaiwuhqLGPjVn2g4XZiNTt2yYcGCrmJ6S33CQ5o7B7QTjVXydu1m3m2/s400/90sfloat.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Who's the weirdo in the pink checkered shirt? Oh, right. I didn't even think I should be in the picture and Prada made sure I was represented. Lila Vera had me rip the skin off her hand at one point. The queen two above me, diagonally, I don't know her name but we lip-synced together. Brandonna and Christina are EVERYTHING.<br />
<br />
Anygay, it was hotter than a sweat lodge owner's armpit out there, but no one was complaining, not any of the men who were there on behalf of the '90s, and certainly none of the queens who were cinched to the gods and in full face, so who the hell was I to complain? The Saloon was the float ahead of us and they misted us with sunscreen, as did a woman from the Summit float. There was a sense of community.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsm4zqsrtaoHnuMo75NT1t4SBd07kvbzViMxyIKpScCC6ToCw5y9ATL69Hq_wRvAs0YCTbC0JIjrnVd251YLzJ1itHy4ZZR5UhTMFn01MIe6h6t8ZVyUS2Grpc5WhB2GxwZZlRY0BR0f05/s1600/happypride.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsm4zqsrtaoHnuMo75NT1t4SBd07kvbzViMxyIKpScCC6ToCw5y9ATL69Hq_wRvAs0YCTbC0JIjrnVd251YLzJ1itHy4ZZR5UhTMFn01MIe6h6t8ZVyUS2Grpc5WhB2GxwZZlRY0BR0f05/s400/happypride.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
<br />
I fit right in, don't I?<br />
<br />
Remember last year at Jetset when they did a "Hello Sailor" theme during Pride and I was the only one who dressed up? This year I got my picture taken with a cute boy in a sailor hat.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ijDwTf68Ck9sd_uaO9urlgg0mS5PNPt-rJtqvkMt3G1b07_ZF87BBonrF1vQc3m7c8NmVJjrcitbdiWvIlxvcqbGXJTRnnukygPRG4fXbKz5xUMLJiuBlnXGqVjr9q8GlPMjNlXvxbPt/s1600/hellosailor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ijDwTf68Ck9sd_uaO9urlgg0mS5PNPt-rJtqvkMt3G1b07_ZF87BBonrF1vQc3m7c8NmVJjrcitbdiWvIlxvcqbGXJTRnnukygPRG4fXbKz5xUMLJiuBlnXGqVjr9q8GlPMjNlXvxbPt/s320/hellosailor.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Also on The Saloon float was their official weekend host, porn star Boomer Banks! Jared is obsessed with him, to the point that he wouldn't go to The Tank when Boomer was there because he would get too embarrassed. Jared, who is one of the most gregarious, outgoing people EVER. Anyway, Boomer was just sitting there with an assistant, and I needed something to get my mind off of how stinking hot I was.<br />
<br />
"Hi, sorry, I was just wondering if I could get a picture?" I asked with my voice barely raising above five decibels.<br />
<br />
He raised an eyebrow at his handler and then turned to me. "Sure," he said, and then grabbed me with sexy sexy force. "Get in here."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5A3I8Vt5MB5yogiTn8O3atvQDmD6df_vNeje0P9IFkJ56m45zmPYf1F9oxLcUQFbZFgU8XdBkqdhcivAYUWY-l76bg1RyPzjQ-qvZ86O5LbuVQqIfuYmX5qR-3CtJPY1THhkKA4cW1nRW/s1600/iheartboomer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5A3I8Vt5MB5yogiTn8O3atvQDmD6df_vNeje0P9IFkJ56m45zmPYf1F9oxLcUQFbZFgU8XdBkqdhcivAYUWY-l76bg1RyPzjQ-qvZ86O5LbuVQqIfuYmX5qR-3CtJPY1THhkKA4cW1nRW/s320/iheartboomer.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
My friendship with Jared shall never be doubted again. This was my profile pic on Facebook for a while and I got so many friend requests for a while, and I can't imagine the disappointment once people found out they were adding the weirdo in the emoji hat and not Booker Banks, Sex God.<br />
<br />
Anyway, the parade FINALLY started and I can't begin to describe what an adrenaline rush it is. People cheer and whoop, they want all your free crap (if I would have given away a Frisbee to everyone who asked, I would have been empty by 5th avenue -- them's the breaks). As full of heatstroke as I may have been after, I wouldn't give any of it away.<br />
<br />
I should have stayed on the float with the queens back to the '90s, but I chose to walk instead. Sven found me and I realized I could barely even see straight. He took my hand to The Saloon for a cup of water, and then I stopped at Fantasy Gifts to buy porn for the '90s show. At Fantasy Gifts I realized my debit card was missing, so I charged it. Business expense!<br />
<br />
Then at the '90s I realized my keys were missing.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfMI1MsUA-TfqdxHUt_wI8Hn5ZW3r9hgF56kqvIb_bRLgLG1YrvMSJnye4peWweP0WexbW5tC8lszBSs37xkJRPjpIKQk9_tzsCmgwaosdIlTd2bivNIUOshg05YQGPv2mVj2b5VKc1HVb/s1600/angkillmyself.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfMI1MsUA-TfqdxHUt_wI8Hn5ZW3r9hgF56kqvIb_bRLgLG1YrvMSJnye4peWweP0WexbW5tC8lszBSs37xkJRPjpIKQk9_tzsCmgwaosdIlTd2bivNIUOshg05YQGPv2mVj2b5VKc1HVb/s400/angkillmyself.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Forget the fact that all those pictures are of me with hot guys. I'm going to remember them as me with my keys. Also, I was driving everyone nuts at the '90s because the door to the main bar was locked (staff only), and I kept trying to go back and forth trying to see if anybody had seen my damn keys. The struggle bus was so real, and I was the driver and passenger.<br />
<br />
Steve was hoping to find me in the park, and I explained to him the situation. He didn't seem to be that upset, which was good. Still! I hadn't lost my keys in, like, months, and I had JUST lost my debit card that Thursday, got it replaced on Friday, and then found the new (now moot one) Saturday night. UGGGGGHHHHHHH.<br />
<br />
After an arduous hour and a half, I finally made it to the park. I ran into Charlie first, who was with other friends, and I didn't want to rush Charlie, but Steve and Jacey and had been waiting for an hour now,<i> and where the fuck was the stupid Target thing????? I am going to have a meltdown!!!</i><br />
<br />
We finally made it to the park where Target was offering these blankets you can lay on -- lie on? The one grammatical mystery to me -- and I tried to just calm myself down. People would mention anything and I could talk about was my keys.<br />
<br />
"You look sunburned."<br />
"I lost my keys!"<br />
"I love Pride."<br />
"I lost my keys!"<br />
"I think that girl is passed out."<br />
"I lost my keys!"<br />
<br />
Steve, Jacey, Charlie, Woody, and I all laid on blankets and centered ourselves.<br />
<br />
"I know you're kind of a mess," Steve said, "But ... it's okay. I got you."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivNj-u7Q5tjiR1RXa7wiwWnZzpkjfStYpa5AY0edAT7uXdji4FFzboRJM1CET-iJMp34kecZZZneZNXJEW8SYfw0uIhaaEWlP8OVf950NfDV90bxEMp4Fjgy0-WE50IFFfis_BNLJ6pisZ/s1600/beyoncethankyou.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivNj-u7Q5tjiR1RXa7wiwWnZzpkjfStYpa5AY0edAT7uXdji4FFzboRJM1CET-iJMp34kecZZZneZNXJEW8SYfw0uIhaaEWlP8OVf950NfDV90bxEMp4Fjgy0-WE50IFFfis_BNLJ6pisZ/s1600/beyoncethankyou.gif" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Sometimes that's all you need to hear.<br />
<br />
The Lord further blessed me that afternoon because when I looked up, Flip Phone Boy was hula hooping! With his shirt off!<br />
<br />
"We should go soon," Jacey kept saying.<br />
"In a minute," I kept saying.<br />
<br />
Flip Phone Boy's hula hoop and landed on us! Finally! Our meet cute moment!<br />
<br />
"Sorry," he said with an embarrassed smile and quickly ran off, like a pixie.<br />
<br />
"Why don't you practice more?" Steve asked in annoyance.<br />
<br />
"STEVEN!" I cried, already planning the seating chart at our wedding.<br />
<br />
"He can't hear me," Steve said. "Calm down."<br />
<br />
We finally walked back to the house, where Jacey and I discussed how the heat is making everyone crazy (I suggested <i>The Bronx is Burning</i> as summer reading, as it's really only a sports book in disguise). Soon after, it was time for the Saloon block party!!<br />
<br />
At this point, I should note that my voice was NOW TOTALLY SHOT. I sounded like Miley Cyrus' speaking voice without the hint of bad-assery or sex.<br />
<br />
We made it to The Saloon, but I knew I would have to leave at 9:30 because I wanted to go do Mystery Porn 3000 at The Gay '90s, as I know felt closer to them than ever. So I didn't get to see all of Jordin Sparks, but I did get to see Wendy Ho, my former lover Boomer Banks, and Jordin Sparks play her early hits, which I was obsessed with in my youth!!! I had a moment when "Tattoo" came on. Nobody cared but me and I stayed in 2007.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/EspCzgXH0o0/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/EspCzgXH0o0?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
I vamoosed to The '90s, where the security guy didn't even think I was really doing a show, and I had a different bartender than usual (which was fine because he was in his underwear the whole time). I insisted on talking to everybody the whole time, and it didn't get weird until 11:30 when people thought I was a bartender. Also, I met a super hot guy who was a webcam model and I forgot his screen name even though he told me 11 times. Still, I only do cam4 and I think he's on a more expensive site.<br />
<br />
I went back to The Saloon, and things just got kinda weird. First of all, I Lady and the Tramped a chicken strip with Ryan Robertson, and if you would have told Season One Jakey that, he would have peed everywhere.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn0ztAe6cPhkDfmCe3UE1GCc9YZozCuDfzQDjSNgK3iHaExjfQCQYZPJxLEqSkFqTIVo0SFt7QA0yBG5zHGO0e7JMcxwcDwpp05Js75VOKjzfWIdwEM2kpfqq0NboFp1buz-NIClxWIpJe/s1600/ladyandthetramp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn0ztAe6cPhkDfmCe3UE1GCc9YZozCuDfzQDjSNgK3iHaExjfQCQYZPJxLEqSkFqTIVo0SFt7QA0yBG5zHGO0e7JMcxwcDwpp05Js75VOKjzfWIdwEM2kpfqq0NboFp1buz-NIClxWIpJe/s320/ladyandthetramp.jpg" width="179" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I was getting to be increasingly tired. My age had caught up with me. Someone told me that I looked dead and I wasn't even offended. I just wanted to leave but Steve had the keys and I felt terrible about the whole thing, so I ended up going to a hotel party with Joey, co-workers, and a random woman who was under the influence of SOMETHING. The next day I went back to the house to get my keys to copy, and after some random errands, I realized there was no absolute way I could have done a post-Pride party! Even if I had technically only worked about four hours over the weekend, Auntie Debby was a sore and sunburned mess, but I still think it was totally worth it. I had a box of Dots and a bottle of kamboucha and was happy to feel exhausted. If this was to be the last Pride of my twenties, I couldn't have asked for a better one.<br />
<br />
Next week: the biggest show of Jakey's career! Make or break.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />jakeyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05687321925107280139noreply@blogger.com0