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
I had to re-learn a lot of lessons this year. My most important one is that my life is not a Real Housewives 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 owning it.
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).
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.
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.
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 Schitt's Creek 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.
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.
And then, well ...
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.
Thankfully, none of them experienced major symptoms and were healthy after their quarantine.
As for me, I got it bad. 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???
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.
During some nights, I thought I would die from it.
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.
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.
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.
But did I stop, Dear Reader? No. And now we continue to Own It.
I went out after my first vaccination, which was stupid. 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 New York Times 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.
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?
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.
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."
"Oh my god, no, of course not," I lied through gritted teeth. NOW IT WAS AWKWARD. BECAUSE NOW I KNEW.
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.
"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."
"You're insane," Steve whispered and they both left.
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 mood. "No, we don't," I said. "I'm embarrassed and you don't owe me anything.":
"But I'm your friend and you screamed at me," Kennedy said.
"I'm sorry I did that," I said.
"I wasn't going to sleep with Steve," Kennedy said.
"It's none of my business," I said, and that was the truth.
"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.
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.
July: It Gets Worse, And Not Just Because I Turn 35
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.
"You're so obviously into him," Kennedy giggled.
"I am only woman," I demurred.
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 FUCK IT and I have no shame.
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?
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, but it is not good to express those feelings in a way that hurts others.
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.
But cycles kept repeating themselves, and we finally got to the pinnacle of every Real Housewives 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.
Next episode: The highs and lows of the group trip, Reid's exciting new ventures, and the most devastating loss of all.
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.
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.
*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.
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.
I am not a victim of anything but my own poor behavior. I am also allowed to feel hurt and confused.
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 sick. 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.
It went well.
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.
I'm going to be at The Saloon in an hour, said my text from Ron.
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!
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 got 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.
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.
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.
But I went tonight, and I was relieved that tonight was low-key than Friday and Saturday. (Friday was bumpin, 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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."
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.
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. "Twins????"
She drove from Blaine to Osseo to pick up my Grandma Jeanne, and famously forgot the gas cap at the gas station.
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.
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 The Star.
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 her 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.
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.
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 doing?” 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.
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 RuPaul’s Drag Race. 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.
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.
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 RuPaul’s Drag Race: All-Stars. (I promise I watched more TV shows besides RuPaul's Drag 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.
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 Heathers. 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.
“You’ve got some fucking nerve,” I texted back with haste.
“I would have told you if you would have asked me anything about my trip,” he shot back. “You took no interest in it.”
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 …"
“I didn’t realize I had to ask for your entire itinerary,” I said.
“I asked you on Sunday if I could hang out with Steve without it being weird and you said yes,” he responded.
“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.
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.
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, Loring Park: Vol. 2 is coming soon. By soon I mean before my age has a "4" in front of it.
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.
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. But, Jakey, if that's the case, don't you go home crying every day? Hush up.
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 in 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 WWE Raw 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.
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?
_________
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!
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 is 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).
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.
Jacob Randall, Jacob Frey, and a local drunk
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.
"We got a new dog," he said.
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.
I can wish the dog well but not Jaxon well.
This speaks volume about my lack of character.
Come back, Jakey. This is a rabbit hole.
Yes! I am forgetting about the important part, which is THAT I WON BINGO. THREE TIMES.
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.
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).
We played Trouble and kiki'd. Clive was planning on driving back home, and it took a lot of planning
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.
"Don't drink too much," he warned. "We have a big day tomorrow."
"Obvi," I said.
I LIED.
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.
"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.
He was gone when I woke up.
____
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.
I was exhausted, but I was okay with it because I planned on sleeping on the way to Duluth.
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.
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.
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 Batman soundtrack by Prince, and a T-shirt that I can't recall because it is still in the bag in my car.
We started our excursion outside the 7 West Taphouse, 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.
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.
You guys, I am a horrible writer. I didn't even tell you why we were going to Duluth.
Five years earlier, Charlie and I road tripped to Milwaukee (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.
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, no, this seat is TAKEN, they're just not here right now. 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.
My 9th grade school picture.
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.
"What???" 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 …
...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 …
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
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.
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.
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!
The love of my life.
Penny Ann would never, but I still love her so much and if I start talking about her I will get emotional.
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 ...
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 The Young and the Restless.
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 our 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 Smackdown 2: Know Your Role, I am confident I would have slayed my competition. Unfortunately for me, we were on Nintendo 64 playing No Mercy, 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.
"Do you see that girl on the screen?" she said as her Terri delivered a Boston Crab to my Ivory. "That's me."
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).
"I've never done that move in my life," Terri said after she beat me with said Boston Crab. I was terrible!
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.
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!
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!)
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.
Christmas photo
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 Lord of the Rings: Return of the King won everything.
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 excellent podcast about it.
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.
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.
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 Loring Park 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.
I want to talk about Dick and no one is going to understand me.
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.
Anygay, the point is that I want to talk about Dick.
Dick 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 ...
Dick 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).
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.
This is what interests me: Dick 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 She's All That. What also fascinates me is that just a month prior, Kirsten Dunst was in another quirky comedy that had a horrible opening and was a bomb for its studio.
That movie was Drop Dead Gorgeous. Drop Dead Gorgeous 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 Jia Tolentino, 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 The West Wing, which had millions of viewers on weekly television.
Dick, 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.
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.
I have read Heartburn 50 times. I never realized that she names the husband in that book Mark Feldman.
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.
Anyway, I wanted to talk about Dick. 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.
But you gave away the things you loved
And one of them was me
Somewhere, 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.
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.
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.
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:
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 Wayne's World. 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
I could not be on time for work to save my life. I did not care about anything. My sleeping habits were atrocious.
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.
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 dude", 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.
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.
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 Loring Park: Vol. 1, 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 really can't make this stuff up.
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.
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 THE THING, life isn’t half-bad.
Let’s begin.
The Princess of Arizona
There is no Arizona
No painted desert, no sedona
If there was a Grand Canyon
She could fill it up with the lies he told her
But they don’t exist
Those dreams they sold her
She’ll wake up and find there is no Arizona
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!
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.
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.
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!
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.
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 Saturday Night Live 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!)
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!
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!
“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.
“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?)
“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 upset
by it. The people at our table awkwardly murmured, and I quickly hoped for the
next question.
“HE
THINKS YOU’RE A GIRL,” Dane said loud enough that they could hear him in
Flagstaff.
“Yeah, I
got it,” I said. I forgave Conrad immediately but now I was pissed at Dane.
The Q
& A was still enjoyable until maybe the last few questions. Something
to Wrestle With is one of the top, if not the 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 My
Favorite Murder 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 Game of Thrones.
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.
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!
I won’t
bore with you with details of the entire show, but I will share the highlights
and lowlights.
Highlights:
*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.
*My
husband Finn Balor.
*Seeing
Ronda Rousey live was a real treat.
*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.,
*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.
*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.
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.
Lowlights:
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.
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.
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 terrible and I
wanted to apologize to Steve for every single stupid fight we ever had.
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.
____
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.
“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
didn't care. 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.
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.,
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.
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 not letting things the fuck go. 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.
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?
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.
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?
“I want
this so I don’t ever have to work again,” Jaxon giggled when it was time to
give his clue.
“SUGAR
DADDY,” everyone yelled, and I instinctively threw a napkin at Steve.
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.
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 Golden Girls
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.
I did not
have a Valentine.
_______
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 Body Talk.
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.
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.
I won’t
be able to do the Robyn concert justice as it’s been too long, but this review 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 crap. 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.
I’m in the corner
Watching you kiss her
I’m right over here
Why can’t you see me
The new
Palace Theater in St. Paul was purchased by the owners of First Avenue.
So far away but still so near
The lights go on, the music dies
But you don’t see me standing here
I just came to say good-bye
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.
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?
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!
Robyn's dancer came to the aftershow and did the “Human Being”
dance with Detox! It was everything.
I’m giving it my all
But I’m not the girl you’re taking home
I keep dancing on my own
____
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.
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!
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 Me. I am Mariah: The Elusive
Chanteuse album, which I listened to eight thousand times in a different
painful chapter of my life. SHE ALSO DID AN ENTIRE GLITTER MEDLEY!!!
#justiceforglitter
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
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 The Voice slot machine, but
stopped when my $20 went down to $7.15 (my birthday!), as I declared that to be
a sign.
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.
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.
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!
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 Keeping Up with the Kardashians and I
kept having a fever dream that I was on the show.
___
JAKEY, JOEY, and JARED are all sitting at a
fancy table in a Casablasas home.
JOEY: So, like, what’s going on with you and
Steve? I don’t think you should even be talking to him anymore.
JARED: I, like, don’t get it. Oh my god, Joey.
Your hair.
JOEY: Thanks. I went to John Paul Sebastian on
Sunset.
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?
JOEY: That explains your drinking.
JARED: My mother is Irish. I’m, like, offended.
JOEY: Aren’t you, like, everything?
JARED: If you just want to be nice to him, then
you, like, need to be nice to Jaxon.
JAKEY: I am so nice to Jaxon. I never
said anything derogatory. To his face.
JARED: Girl, your Twitter.
Jared pulls up his phone and scrolls through
Jakey’s Twitter feed.
JARED: Note the time stamps are all between 2
and 6 A.M., Donald Trump.
JAKEY: I have feelings about the whole thing.
JOEY: You’re allowed to have feelings. You don’t
need to broadcast them to everyone constantly.
JAKEY: Spoken like a true Irish Catholic.
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.
JAKEY: All the pictures, and the posing, and the
posting ….
JARED: Was it on your wall? Did he tag you? Send
them to you directly? Nothing to you. It’s all about Steve.
JAKEY: Not a good movie.
JOEY: No.
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!
JOEY: You don’t need to look at me when you say
that.
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?
JAKEY: … Me?
KRIS JENNER walks in.
KRIS JENNER: Hey, girls. What are you doing in
my house?
JAKEY: This isn’t my house?
KRIS JENNER: No. Your net worth is -$15,000.
JAKEY: Oh, I’m not a rich author in this dream
sequence?
JARED: Jakey, everything in this house is white!
You wouldn’t last a day without spilling!
KRIS JENNER: But you’re still my good
friend. You look terrible.
JAKEY: Do you have a surgeon you can recommend?
KRIS JENNER: No, like, you look ill. Kris
puts her hand on his forehead. Oh my god. You guys. Have you gone to an
urgent care?
JAKEY: But, Kris Jenner! It’s St. Patrick’s Day!
KRIS JENNER: Oh my god. Has no one called
Loretta?
JARED: You’re friends with Loretta in this
dream?
KRIS JENNER: I have a feeling she can’t stand
me, but yes.
CONFESSIONAL - LORETTA
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.
JAKEY: What do you and Loretta even do?
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.
JAKEY: I’m really dizzy …
KRIS JENNER: Oh my god. Did you get your flu
shot?
JAKEY: Whatt …..?
JOEY: The flu? Again?
JARED: Germs!!!!!
JAKEY: Let’s text Steve and blame him and Jaxon
for this.
JOEY, JARED, & KRIS: No!!!!!
_____
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 Can
You Ever Forgive Me?, which I slept through even though I had already read
the screenplay)
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.
_____
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.
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.
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 shopping! 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 All About Steve
was on TV, and it really is a bad movie.
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 that was a Tanner. Or
Cooper. Or Ryder? Oh, Chicago. I am going back.
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).
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.
“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.
It’s Gonna Be May
We will
end May with the most fangirl weekend of my life!!
Cher was
in town at The Xcel! And no, I did not go because I have been spending far too
much. But I did 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!)
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!
“IFIRSTSAWYOUINDENVERYOUWEREGREAT,”I
said.
“I love
Denver,” Chad said.
“THENIGOTTHEFLULASTTIMEYOUWEREHERE,”
I said.
“I’m so
sorry to hear that,” Chad said.
“IT’S
OK,” I said. “GETYOURFLUSHOT.,”
I guess
you could say I was a little excited.
The next
day: Holy buckets!!
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.
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).
“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?
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.
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!
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. Of course, I am leaving out so much. Lots of unrequited crushes, drama that kept on repeating itself, the same show every weekend. I am moving to Whittier in two weeks. Next time, whenever that is: The Pride episode! My birthday episode!
