Loring Park Episode #45: Check Yourself Before You Wreck Yourself (Too Late?)

I applied to college.

I have no idea if I get in, if I will go, or what I will think of myself if I get in or if I do not get in.

Work is ... promising. Like, I might even be perceived as an adult there. I just had my six-year anniversary. Now, if only I could get my ass out of bed and on time. You'd think I would have this down by 28.

               ***

It was the day before Labor Day when Paul Ryan asked if I wanted to go to his house and cavort with his frat bro friends. While that sounded lovely, I already decided I was going to head to The Slutoon (shocking!). Jared decided he wasn't going out, and Joey reluctantly agreed to ride in the Uber with me provided he got shotgun, and we would Uber to pick up Paul Ryan -- who lives near the University of St. Thomas -- and then head to The Saloon.

Um, y'know how Uber has "peak rates"? I have never paid more than $10 for an Uber, although I have admittedly only taken it as far as Northeast Minneapolis from Loring Park. Apparently, everyone and their dog wanted an Uber to celebrate Labor Day, because it would have cost $100 round trip to pick up Paul Ryan in one and have us be delivered to The Saloon. And let's not get started on the ridiculousness of the fact that I would be paying for the Uber despite the fact that Paul Ryan had just told me how much he made last month and it is more than I make in a year. Stay in school, kids.

Since I hadn't started drinking yet, I decided I would pick up Paul Ryan myself and then the three of us would walk to The Saloon together.

"I can't believe you're doing this," Joey kept saying as I was getting dressed.
"I know," I said. "But think of it as me being Mommy and I am trying to find a good stepdad for you."

It was raining, and I was already wet when I walked up Lasalle Avenue in my usual parking spot (right next to an always-empty commercial parking lot -- so Mona, my tina Toyota Yaris, usually scoots in. I used to park across from there but I got a $35 parking ticket once). I put music on and ventured to St. Paul, where I am sure I made a fool of myself trying to park and nearly causing a three-vehicle crash (seriously, there were at least three different frat boys standing in their yards amidst the commotion).

I walked into Paul's house and lamented that I didn't have an umbrella. "I have one," he said.
"Good," I said. "Now put on your pants. We are leaving."
"Jakey," he grinned. "Don't you want a cocktail first?"
"No," I said. "I am driving. And I'm all wet. Do you have a hoodie I can steal?" I used to do this when I went to Kevin's house all the time. Kleptomania is part of my charm.
"You can have my Cambridge one," Paul Ryan offered.
"Oh, that looks too expensive," I said. Even Kleptomaniacs have morals. "I'll just take this one." I chose a waterproof blue reversible Billabong zip-up hoodie. Paul Ryan chose a Polo button-up, shorts, and Boss suede shoes.

"Suede?" I asked. "It's raining."
"They're already ruined anyway," he laughed. "I don't care. Why aren't you parked in front of the house?"
"Because I got disoriented and I can't parallel park to save my life," I said. "Now walk fast."
"We're walking by my car," Paul Ryan shared. "I have a Toyota Escalade."
"I have a Toyota Yaris," I said. "Her name is Mona."
"Aww," he said. "We both have Toyotas. We have so much in common, Jakey."
Interestingly enough, a Toyota Yaris is compact and frisky while a Toyota Escalade is large and ostentatious. Sometimes, we are what we drive.

We entered the car, and Paul Ryan, as the tallest person to ever ride shotgun with me, looked absolutely cramped.
"I'm sorry," I said. "It's not really a tall-person car."
"You drive like a white person," Paul Ryan said.
"I still haven't finished my college application," I said.
"Finish it, bro," he said. "That place needs people like you. Everyone there is so ... sheltered. You would have a unique perspective."

We drove up to Lasalle Avenue and my spot was taken! Curses! To Clifton it was.

"Paul, I am very bad at parking," I explained. "You have to do what Jared does and look back and tell me if I have room."
"Remember when I fucked you?" he asked.
"Paul!" I cried as I almost hit a construction cone. "Now is not the time."
"Jakey," he laughed. "Your leg is brushing up against mine. You're getting me hard right now."
"Paul Ryan!" I cried as Mona brushed up against the curb. "Focus!"
"I was pretty intoxicated when we had sex," he said.
"Yes, well," I said as I felt my face get hot. "You clearly knew what you were doing."
"Really?" Paul Ryan asked. "Cool." Boys are soooooooo stupid.

We got out of the car and stood across of a house for sale. "Why would you want a house downtown?" he asked. "Especially Minneapolis. I would never want to live here."
"I want that house," I said.
"Of course it's a Corbett Realty property," Paul scoffed.
"I would like a house for my thirtieth birthday," I said as we walked arm-in-arm, prom-style.
"Really? Not like a trip or something?""
"I just think it would be nice to have a house," I said. "That isn't my parents'."

We arrived back at my apartment and pre-gamed. Paul Ryan was incredulous that Jared was not going and cajoled him to join us. By cajole, I mean he told Jared he would pay for his cover, and Jared got dressed in 45 seconds. Paul Ryan passed the time by trying to show me and Joey his nudie pics, but I would have none of it.

On the walk there, Paul Ryan and I shared an umbrella. I always fake date boys who are rather masculine. This makes me feel guilty for a variety of reasons. As a result, every now and then I have an intense need to demonstrate that I can be "the boy" when needed. Therefore, I insisted on holding the umbrella. However, this did not really work because Paul Ryan is seven or eight inches taller than me.

"Jakey," he scoffed. "I'm getting wet."
"Then you hold the umbrella," I said. "God damn."

We arrived and Paul Ryan took back his offer on paying Jared's cover. Jared started walking home in the rain. I got him to come back.

"I want to go shake my thing," Paul Ryan said. He and Jared did so while I mingled and gossiped. Paul went home with a twink and Joey was outraged the next morning.

"What an asshole!" Joey cried. "I can't believe he would do that."
"I wasn't even mad about it," I said.
"Why not?!" Joey cried.
"Because we never made plans for after," I said. "And I have his hoodie."

I still do, by the way. It is comfortable as all hell and I am not giving it back.

***

I went to the State Fair! I would post pictures but I have temporarily de-activated my Facebook. I will explain this later.

It was lovely to spend time with my extended family, even though the bus ride was horrendous. The driver begged me to wait for the next bus, but I said "I'm little" and stood between a group of mean seventh-graders. I hung on for dear life.

***

I had the opportunity to meet Detox at The Saloon a few Thursdays ago. I further recapped it here. She didn't get on stage until 11:40 (doors opened at 10) ,but she was beyond gracious and genuine during her Meet and Greet, and I felt The Saloon had things organized much better than when DWV appeared last April. I gushed about how when she performed with Battle of the Seasons at the Varsity Theater in December, she was the only queen who gave a genuine, heartfelt speech about being there for the fans. I knew at least two people who went to her after party, so she is a friend in my head. Special thank you to Liam for taking the picture of us, because I am an excellent photojournalist and therefore my phone was dead by the time I got to go up in the line.

Also, Christ, I am getting old and fat.

And when I am older and fatter, I will look at that picture and think of myself as gorgeous, because life is like that.

***

I had the most "Jakey"-ish night on a Thursday, when I did stand-up comedy at Nye's Polonaise Lounge! It is a great room that they run on Thursdays, where you are in the basement and it feels like an old-timey club. A really cute boy that I used to work with was there. I went up first, which is always difficult, and the way the light is run there, you can't see for shit when you're onstage, an aspect I have yet to get used to. This was the day after the news of Adrian Peterson allegedly beating his 2-year-old was released.

"I'm going first and there's, like, 17 of us tonight," I told the audience. "And we're all gonna want to be cutting-edge and ahead of everything when it comes to current events. So, I thought of a game. Just drink every time someone makes an Adrian Peterson joke. And hopefully you have a sober cab, because you are going to be flat on your ass. Much like you would be if you were dating an NFL player. That counts. Drink!" I had fun.

I stayed until the show ended, as is the polite thing to do (and it's not like I was in a hurry! Afterward I was going to Honey, which was just across the street). As I mingled, a comedian who I had never seen before came up to me.

"You're awesome," she said.
"I did okay," I said. I need to read Lean In.
"No, I'm serious," she said. "If you work hard, you're going to be a star. Even your voice is funny. And your material is smart."

Well, shmuck.

But isn't that a novel concept? That you will be a success ... if you work hard. I lost that somewhere. I dropped out of school at 21, was still furious with my mother for ruining my life and was still furious with myself for thinking she had ruined it, and I just kinda gave up, but I also thought that I would somehow still become rich and famous.

Huh.

The evening was marred because Joey and Jared were feuding, but I fixed it when we got home. Joey saves his emotions for when he can no longer accept them, and Jared is constantly on a stealth audition for The Bad Girls Club. I suppose this is the best dramatic re-enactment of it all:

The three of us, along with my best friend Erin McCloskey and my reading-to-filth mother, will be going to Miami together at the end of the month. Thoughts and prayers are appreciated.

                                      ***

There is a new boy in our group named Steve who just turned 21 and is smooth-skinned and babyfaced and therefore everyone is in love with him. I haven't decided yet, so I just hug him more than is appropriate. I don't think he has it figured out.

We like Owen, too. He works at The Saloon and is kind of a dork trapped in a hot model's body. Some people are just cursed that way.

Cordero brought me too many drinks at The 19 but then Dollface showed up so I spent all night flirting with him like an asshole. And then I didn't even go home with him! I don't know what I am doing.

I did get a parking spot now, so there's that. I pay $75 to a former Marine named Lowell who is approximately 100 years old and as many pounds. He has a tiny flip phone. I love him.

                        ***

Speaking of not knowing what I'm doing, I went from being an MTV alcoholic to an A&E alcoholic. It was time to dial it back, as the kids say.

The kids don't really say that, Jakey.

Shut up! I am hip!

On a Friday, I was supposed to meet everyone at LUSH, but Jared left without me, so I pouted at The 19, and then I took an Uber to Sean's, and I pre-gamed at his place and then met the kids at The Saloon. Paul Ryan was there and could barely stand up. He travels with an entourage, so they walked him out in one piece.

Then Kevin was there.

"Jakey, we need to go home," said Jared. "We work early."
"Go away!" I cried. "It's Kevin!"

In my head I was all

But instead I was probably all

I had not seen him in four months and did not know what I was expecting.

"You should go home," he told me.

"My family doesn't ask about you anymore," he added. "And I lost weight, which I know you cared so much about."

He did look very much like the 'old Kevin' (well, young Kevin, if you know what I mean). I wasn't going to go home with him anyway, but it would have been nice to be asked. And I get why he said what he did, because it is human nature to want to win. I've done the same thing with other people.

But why was he so standoffish with me? I wasn't that drunk and sloppy.

My Facebook at 3:30 AM said I AM SO SAD.

Okay. Maybe I was.

Sunday was an even bigger shitshow!

I met up with Jared and Joey at The Eagle and we received applause by re-enacting the lift during "(I Have Had) The Time Of My Life". My Uber driver was new to the job and did not listen to directions. When I got there, Joey and Jared were talking to Ricky! The nerve! I acted like a wife who had walked into her husband banging the secretary on the desk.

"It wasn't like that," they promised. "He just came up to us."
"Whatever!" I cried. "This is a betrayal!"

I went to order my drink and was even more horrified when the bartender called me Ricky!

"Um, what?" I asked.
"Do you know Ricky?" the bartender said.
"Yes, but I'm not him," I said.
"He spilled his drink," the bartender said.

I get that The Eagle staff is not fond of the twinks and the twink-adjacent, and I was an odd mix of offended and flattered. Ricky and I are both blond, but he is tan and buff and can have his shirt off in public without people averting their eyes. I wasn't sure what to think.

We tried running to The Saloon but we got there at 9:59 and the bouncers claimed it was ten and made us pay cover. The nerve!

Oh, it went from bad to worse, children. Because Sunday is 2-4-1's night. And Sunday is football day. And boys were wearing Vikings jerseys. And one boy was wearing an Adrian Peterson jersey.

I immediately went to Facebook and typed that there was a hot guy in an AP jersey and I wasn't sure how I felt about it. Then I drank some more. Then I went on the patio and told everyone.

"Oh my god!" cried my friend Doug. My friend Doug is, like a biochemist or something that requires 130% of your brain power, so when he parties, he parties hard. "You should spank him!" he cried.
"THAT SOUNDS HILARIOUS!" I cried. In my vodka-soaked stupor, this would be my finest hour. I'd spank him on the ass, he'd be all "What was that for?', I'd be like "You're wearing an AP jersey!" and we would all laugh and be merry.

Let's go to Wikipedia, which never lies:

Short-term effects of alcohol include the risk of injuries, violence and fetal damage.^[11] Alcohol has also been linked with lowered inhibitions, though it is unclear to what degree this is chemical versus psychological as studies with placebos can often duplicate the social effects of alcohol at low to moderate doses. Some studies have suggested that intoxicated people have much greater control over their behavior than is generally recognized, though they have a reduced ability to evaluate the consequences of their behavior.

Now imagine you are a young and attractive gay man -- for some of you this may be a stretch -- and you are at The Saloon with a group of your peers. You are there to have a good time. You are not there to get spanked on the ass by an old, intoxicated skinny dude who thinks his assaulting you is hilarious.

Of course, one understands this the next day. When they're sober.

So I spanked the kid. And he did the best and worst thing he could have done, which was not respond to it at all. I walked back to the patio with my proverbial tail between my legs. My joke completely bombed.

A boy who looked like he could be on Teen Wolf came up to me moments later. "Hey," he said calmly. "I just want you to know, next time you feel like spanking my boyfriend again, you're gonna have to go through me first. Fuck off."

It was really the perfect thing a boyfriend could have done. He wasn't all machismo about it -- he never raised his voice or his hand -- but he let the point be clear. Even though I told Facebook that I spanked the kid and he was trying to get me out (and it had 13 likes! In one hour!), I deleted the whole thing when I got home. By protesting what I thought was a perceived acceptance of violence with violence, I had solved nothing, I had likely ruined someone's night, and I had made a complete ass of myself in the process.

The next day I realized that I still had not finished my college application, I still had not launched JakeyEmmert.com despite going to a former high school classmate's house for a gracious offering of Weebly 101, and in general, I was just becoming super obnoxious.

I de-activated my Facebook.

Which is super stupid to do for my "comedy" "career", but that's going about as well as spanking strangers at the bar.

It will be back up when the website is up.

It's strangely freeing not being on Facebook. Now every time my phone dings, I think it's something important. Then I find out that it's spam from Twitter or my friend Chuck telling me he has gas, but still! It's better than compulsively checking Facebook, right? I would post, like, eight things a day. And then You-Know-Who would be "online", with a green dot next to his name, and I would just sit and stare at it but never think of talking to him because I had nothing to say, and then the green dot would disappear, and I would just get sad about the whole thing. STILL.

I should apologize to the dude I hit, but I don't know his name. Maybe it's best to let sleeping dogs lie. Maybe he's not really that mad about it. Maybe he'll throw a drink on me the next time I go to The Saloon. Maybe his boyfriend will bash my skull in. Maybe I'll send them both matching Bridgewater jerseys.

Next week: Will Jakey really get his website done? Will he really stay in during all of October because he wants to look like a human when he goes to Miami?

Loring Park Episode #41: When It Rains, It Pours

It has been raining so much this month! Rumor has it that it'll rain all through Pride weekend, which will make all the religious people feel validated. One morning I was walking the two blocks to my car and I got so wet that I had to buy new pants when I went to work. They were red cords for only $7 because I got them from the boys' department.

I moved in with Jared. I haven't had a roommate since the year I moved out of the dude house and lived with my uncle Ander. I was probably very spoiled living with Ander, because Ander was a dream roommate. He's a Virgo, so he cleaned all the time and only pestered me about taking out my own garbage. He traveled a lot for work, never deleted my shows on the DVR until after I had watched them, and we had a two-bathroom. The only drawback of living there was that we were in St. Anthony, and I didn't become a bar star until my Loring Park days. However, I could no longer afford a studio in Loring Park (the rise of luxury buildings meaning the rent for the poor folks is going way up, too), so a two-bedroom was a salient option.

I joke that we are married. We have already gotten in fights at Target. He is organized. I am more financially responsible (which is faint, faint praise). We know each other's bowel movements. He has Netflix.

I think it will be okay and I just have to find a cute boy to teach me how to parallel park. I have had many friends offer to teach me, but I am 13 years old and therefore I want it to be a cute boy. Y'know how I never got my driver's license when I was 23? When I was 23, my mom hired a hunky driving instructor named Dan Ryan, but I never learned anything because I was too busy looking at Dan Ryan the whole time.

I am currently parked on Oak Grove Street and it is Pride weekend so I cannot go anywhere until Monday morning.

***

Writing for LOLOMGBlog.com has been such an unexpected blessing. My editors have been so patient with me as I know as much about WordPress as I do about arithmetic (a typical e-mail: "Great article, Jakey! But the pictures need to be this many pixels and that many pixels and you have to cut and paste this and click this button and then click that button and spin around three times"). The really fun thing is that I can suggest things to write about if I'm already going to them, so I jumped at the chance to write about seeing Kathy Griffin at Mystic Lake Casino.

She was nothing short of amazing. She went for two hours. Meanwhile, I did five minutes at House of Comedy on Tuesday and they weren't even all that good.

***

There are still shenanigans at The Saloon, a place I should have been avoiding before Pride. First of all, I left my phone there, and when I came back it was dead, and they wouldn't release it to me until I could prove it was mine, so Joey and Jared had to bring my charger over there while I was still getting ready. My mature self appreciated their integrity and security, but my immature self was like, God DAMN, Saloon! I could buy a house with all the money I have spent here.

I ran into Cordero out of nowhere one night. "It's good to see you, shrimp," he said, and he ate my face. I didn't want to be that slutty person making out at the bar, and I also know that I have about two good years' left of fuckability, tops.

The problem with nightlife -- and I don't know if it's unique to gay bars or not -- is that alcohol brings out the douchiness in people. My father always told me that when somebody tells you something and they are intoxicated, believe them. Unless you are talking to me, because I am never one to gossip or tell tales out of school.

Jared and I were preparing to leave one night, and Chuck was going to drive us home (Chuck often does so, and I don't thank him enough). Someone -- who wasn't necessarily thin or ripped -- called Jared fat. Jared popped off, to the point that I thought he was going to get arrested. "Okay, we're done," I said, and I speed-walked across the street, thinking he was going to be behind me.

He wasn't, so I turned around to go get him. And then he thought, in his 2:45 A.M. wisdom, to go back to the guy and start shit.

Children, I WENT CRAZY. While Jared later told me he wasn't going to punch the guy, I had no way of knowing that. "WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?!" I cried, and I ripped my shirt off, in hopes that my horrendously pale skin would ware off any other offenders. It's hard out here for a Cancerian when people don't listen to him.

A week later, we were on the patio when a drunk man came up to us. I have met him before and he seemed very sad. On this evening, he seemed just to be mean and kept telling me that my skin was oily.

I wasn't even mad. "My Norwegian skin is not oily," I said. "It's dry and pale. You need to learn how to read."
"Um, I have a Ph.D," he slurred. "What did you get your degree in?"
"I don't have one," I said (which is a whole different blog entry). "I don't mean that kind of reading."

It didn't even upset me because there's so much that he could have read me for -- my thinning hair (hi, Ricky), my paleness, my anorexic yet hoggish body, et cetera et cetera. It made me sad, really. If you're going to be a mean drunk, stay home or drink club soda.

He used to work for WCCO for two seconds so he thought he was hot shit. Meanwhile, my favorite tall weatherman Jerrid Sebesta of KARE 11 is leaving town! He read my Tweet on the air once. When the wind blows, I will hear his name.

Leave the memories alone, Jerrid.

***

Jared and I went to The Saloon on the Wednesday that Cher was in town and pretended we had gone to the concert. I ran into Football Guy! Football Guy lives here now. He is my Minneapolis version of a celebrity crush because I had a big crush on him first, but now everybody does. I cannot blame anyone who has two eyes and a heart, to paraphrase Jack Donaghy.

"Football Guy!" I cried. "I'm not wearing make-up and I wish I would have gone to Cher but I didn't and ----"
Football Guy cut me off by imitating a loud siren and I couldn't tell if I was offended or turned on. It was the only interaction I had with him that evening, because he spent most of the night with a douchey sidekick who spent the whole time bragging about how many Instagram followers he had. I can not.

Celebrity was there and everyone was looking and I felt awkward and then O-Town's "Liquid Dreams" came on and I started screaming because I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU, ASHLEY PARKER ANGEL.

I lied to T.J. and told him that Football Guy was my boyfriend.
"Really?!" T.J. asked.
"No," I pouted.
"He's huge," T.J. said. "He would crush you."
"That's kind of the point," I said.

T.J. and I were going to go to the movies but he keeps going out of town for weddings.
"How many weddings has he gone to?" Jared asked.
"He comes from a big family," I said.
"He's from Wisconsin," said Jared. "I'm sure there's nothing to do but hump!"
I may have put this joke in last week. I don't care. I like it that much.

***

***

I was on Facebook and found out from Kevin's mom via a Jesus meme she posted that Kevin has gone to Florida.

Florida is a euphemism now, because not even I am that much of an asshole.

Feelings are dumb.

***

Erin has a pool at her lovely St. Paul apartment. I took this picture because I thought that wearing swim trunks would mean I had a swimmer's body.

I also took it as this weird self-esteem thing. I put it in black & white because nobody needs to see all my ingrown hairs that look like chicken pox. Not even the Lord.

But I did it to tell myself that it is okay that I did not buy an elliptical or eat nothing but pomegranates or excessively do an ab challenge (like I was supposed to! Ugh!). This is how I look. It's probably how I am always going to look. If I am alive in ten years, I might look back at this picture the same way that I look at pictures of myself when I was 17, shaking my head and thinking, "What the hell did you think was wrong with you? You looked just fine! Now you're disgusting, but back then you were hot shit!"

Also, no one is going to be interested in me for my looks anyway. I'm the goofy one. I'm not the sexy one.

It's Pride weekend.

Maybe I can be proud of that.

Loring Park Episode #30: I Like Boys That Wear Abercrombie & Fitch

Previously on "Loring Park": Jakey was going to work on his one-man show for the Fringe Festival and FOCUS ON NOTHING ELSE.

It's been a month, children! I apologize for taking so long between episodes. We are headed into the steamy summertime in Minneapolis, and you know that I love summer. I was born in the summer, and it is when I feel the most alive.

I also feel almost sexual, but that's because I put out for air conditioning. Here we go.

***

Of course, the nights blur together. One of the weekends was Wesley's birthday, and I bought him a present because I am a big stupid saphead. He was running late, and I began to panic when I was at The Saloon. My anxiety has become much worse lately, and "Wesley is running late" soon became "Oh god, what if Wesley crashed into a tree?!" My friend Cordero (from episode one!) was there, and calmed me down by introducing me to a shot called a Blonde Headed Slut. It has Jagermeister in it, and I usually stay away from dark liquor, but it did manage to calm my nerves.

Besides, so many other people were there to focus on! THE ORIGINAL SOUTH DAKOTA was there! He even bought me a drink! I should have asked him to pick me up for old times' sake, but I was feeling fat I walked by the impossible sexiness that is Football Guy. He doesn't remember my name, so he said, "Hey, comedian." "Hey, football player," I smiled, and I'm sure I was as red as the paint in what some call The Red Room (I just call it T.J.'s bar). Piano Man was there for his birthday! We discussed my anxiety issues and we practiced breathing exercises on the patio.

Wesley finally showed up and we sat by the fireplace. I gave him his present and then tried to hug him like a broski. I don't know if I did it right. We sat down and then Running Back came over to yell at Wesley for playing "hard to get". I felt awkward because I like Running Back (he's my unofficial dance coach!), so I just pretended to be too drunk to notice what was going on.

I was out at The Saloon the next night (quelle surprise!), and was reunited with Sprite and Abercrombie! Abercrombie is the boy who I sat next to in the hot tub at the New Year's Eve party and he has abs that could be insured for millions of dollars. I re-introduced myself, and then Liam and Roger came in. They had been Sunday Funday-ing and drinking since noon, and could not contain themselves. I bought Sprite and Abercrombie Blonde Headed Sluts from Danny, but then Roger basically started humping Abercrombie, and I was mortified!! We are judged by the company we keep, and now I worry that I will forever be seen by them as an old drunk pervert. There was another very cute boy who was going to the U of M and tried to stop an older man from hitting on me, and I should have asked for his hand in marriage. Or at least remembered his damn name.

I decided to associate myself with better-behaved company, so I was happy to run into South Dakota Version Two!  One of the many reasons I want to be South Dakota Version Two when I grow up is because he has a banging body and yet has no shame in eating French Fries at The Saloon. I, on the other hand, don't even want people at The Saloon to know I eat solid foods or have a digestive tract.

We discussed mutual acquaintances, and then the conversation turned to Wesley's birthday. SDV2 asked if it would be awkward if he messaged him. That's when I realized they didn't know each other as well as I thought they did. Still, I found nothing odd about it, and SDV2 wrote to him on Facebook. No harm, no foul.

I was reunited with Markie and his pals, and he graciously agreed to drive me home, but at first I wasn't listening because I was drunkenly flirting with Ryan Robertson. Ryan was pretty drunk, too, and we discussed the cultural zeitgeist at large and the conflict in Syria.

I somehow got shotgun, and Ryan and Markie's roommate Stephen sat in the back. I live far too close to The Saloon, but it's always nice to have a ride home. Markie pulled into my parking lot, and as he put on the brakes, Ryan shifted his body from the back seat and kissed me on the lips.

He probably won't remember doing it, and I won't ever bring it up (to his face!). That being said, I don't mean to worship the man, but his lips are like velvet pillows.

                                                      ***