Loring Park Episode #47: This is Your Life

                                         THANKSGIVING EVE

This is your life, Jakey Emmert was all I could tell myself to keep from screaming, crying, uproariously laughing or possibly all three. Speaking of "all three", while I understand that it's an impossible feat to keep track of all my bar crushes and half-hearted emotional affairs, there's only been three that made me feel real things and cry in the car. And while I met them intermittently, for the first time in my life, here they were, in the same room, on the busiest night of the social calendar. And I am single.

I am not with the Boy in the Jacket because he has condemned me to the Friend Zone. I told him to check his jacket but he refused. He is attractive enough that he is probably the only person in this bar who could wear an oversized North Face and make it look good.

I am not with the Tall Boy because he finally got tired of chasing me and now he has a boyfriend nine years my junior.

I am not with The Boy with Great Hair because when I was crazy about him he liked my friend instead, and when he finally asked why we weren't together, I had met The Boy in the Jacket and my delusional heart decided it was game over.

 I tried really hard to get over The Boy in the Jacket and when I came closest, he made his way back into my life. It's still platonic and always be. That's okay. Last time I saw him jokes led to truth and he said we won't ever round the bases because it would be weird.

"Oh," I had said. "I thought it was because I was hideous and disgusting."
"What, really?" he asked and his eyes were sadder than usual. His surprise surprised me. I realized that 18 months is a long time to think that way about yourself. Those feelings would be a toddler by now, trying to run away from me. I cried for three days, because I had spent so much time being sad about him and this time I was finally sad for myself. In my defense, Sam Smith was on the radio.

My bartender is cute and friendly but that would be too messy.

And let's not forget about the dude who greeted me with a kiss when I walked in here an hour ago. He is adorable and undramatic -- and born in 1993. I just told my mother not to cash the $75 check I made out to her. I shouldn't even be out.

"You're having a good night, Jakey!" my friend Z cries. Z was Jared in They Shoot 25-Year-Old Gay Men, Don't They?
"Happy Thanksgiving," I cry as the Boy in the Jacket keeps kissing me on the forehead like I'm a five-year-old girl.
"Who's this guy?" asks the Boy in the Jacket.
"He played Jared in the play I wrote," I say. "You didn't see it. Thank God."
The Boy with Great Hair is his usual hyperactive and spastic self. He is bothering the shit out of the Boy in the Jacket and it is as hilarious as it is upsetting.
"How do you know Jakey?" The Boy in the Jacket asks.
"We go way back," The Boy with Great Hair says. "He wrote a play about me."
"Interesting," The Boy in the Jacket says, and then he lies to The Boy with Great Hair about his name.
"How long have you known Jakey?" The Boy with Great Hair asks. I signal for a refill.
"15 years," The Boy in the Jacket says.
"Are you---?"
Boy in the Jacket smiles devilishly. I purposely avoid eye contact with all involved. Boy with Great Hair is confused.
"Um ... how is it?" he asks. Like you care. The Boy in the Jacket graciously lies and says it is amazing.
The Tall One walks by with his boyfriend and taps my nose with his finger.
"Oh, Jakey," he croons. "Are we in love?"
"Just a little bit," I say. Your boyfriend is right there.
The Boy in the Jacket eventually drifts away with his sober cab. The Boy with Great Hair wants to dance and lifts me up by the love handles and it is painful. My heart can beat as fast as it wants to, but none of this will mean anything in the morning.

This is your life, Jakey Emmert.

"Do you need another one, Jakey?" the bartender asks.

I look around at the game show that has been my emotional love life and realize that, despite how intensely I feel about the three of them, I'm going home alone tonight anyway.

I nod.

                                    ***

I have had such an eventful month! I performed at the Big Gay Comedy Show at Bryant Lake Bowl with the hilarious Jason Schommer. 

I did stand-up and then we read skits that Jason had written Prairie Home Companion style. It was a great line-up (Courtney McClean! Zach Coulter!) and I met Chris, Jason's friend who just moved back from Los Angeles. Chris is in great shape and that is because he almost died because he was drinking so much that his liver and kidney exploded, and now he is sober and one of those people that it was incredibly positive and has a beaming aura about him.

"That is crazy," I said as I ordered another alcoholic beverage.

Oh! Get this! His dad came to the show, and he drove all the way from Little Falls. He was really nice, too.

After that, Chris and I drove to The Saloon. My phone was dead and I got us super lost. It was one of my favorite nights of comedy that I've had this year. And I actually had a good year in comedy. I made more money doing it last year, but this year I got to work for the Turkeys and open for Daryl Horner and play at actual venues. I'll plug here that I got booked for a New Year's Eve show!

I think we should spin this off into a Saturday morning cartoon where we solve mysteries.

I still haven't processed that Gus Lynch passed away. Carole Radziwill writes in "What Remains" about "tragedy whores", who are people that make someone's death all about them. I wasn't good friends with Gus Lynch, but that weekend in which he asked me -- me! little, gay, loud, me! -- to open for him at Gearheads in Eden Prairie was a most unexpected boost of confidence that I was maybe doing this comedy thing right.  He graciously talked to me about the Fringe Festival and told me to not wear shorts on stage. I had tried to impress him so I told him I won Funniest Person in the Twin Cities. He laughed uproariously. "The ACME curse!" he bellowed. He was unapologetic, hilarious, surprisingly warm, and our strange little world of the Minneapolis comedy scene will not be the same without him.

And now we're gonna talk about boys.


                                                 ***

He came back into my life like a hurricane. I told myself it would be different because we're actual friends now instead of just bar friends and we hang out when we're sober and I'm not in love with him anymore. Things would be normal.

"Everyone drinks more when you come around," Joey told him at The Saloon. "I fucking hate you."

Joey is ride or die.

He weaves in and out of my life and I can only accept it. I have stopped thinking of him as someone who needs to be fixed or changed or remedied. It is secretly my proudest accomplishment of 2014. I rode shotgun in his pick-up truck and stared at him and just thought, "I love him. FUCK." and then I realized nothing is going to change and there is nothing I can really do about it, and on we go.

A week later, we had the aforementioned conversation in which I realized my being hideous and disgusting was not the chief reason we have always been platonic. Then Joey and Jared left The Saloon without me because they thought I wanted to go home with him, but I didn't. Then in a mix of Fireball-infused rage, I threw a fan at them when they walked in the door and I am totally going to regret that when it is summer.

The next day, I remembered what had happened and I was sad that I spent 18 months of my life thinking I was hideous and disgusting and I was convinced Joey hated me. I woke up crying.

"You are ridiculous!!" cried Jared.

"I am staying in bed all day," I declared. Then I got out of bed and while Jared was taking a shower I crawled into his bed and pulled the covers over my head.

"Get out of my bed!" Jared cried.
"No," I said. "I am staying here forever."
"You are getting tears all over my pillows!"
"I don't care! I'm gonna blow my nose on them later!"

Joey came over and we were supposed to work out but got food instead. This happens every day, I swear to God. I haven't been to Planet Fitness in two months! Fatty fatty two by four can't get through the kitchen door! Joey wanted to go to Olive Garden and I blatantly refused. Paul Ryan called me and he ended up meeting Joey and I at a Mexican restaurant.

I told Paul Ryan I want to go to St. Thomas for a journalism degree.
"Jakey, that's like getting an M-R-S," he said.
"That's why I want to go!" I cried.
In that conversation, I also learned that I am the oldest person Paul Ryan has penetrated and that he now has a 19-year-old boyfriend.

 He invited me to his apartment later to make brownies. And that is how I spent my Monday night: Baking brownies with a strapping 24-year-old and his adorable 19-year-old boyfriend watching Adult Swim. I was jealous for about ten seconds, and then I chose to embrace the moment instead. These men have graciously invited me into their world. I am the wacky aunt of the Twin Cities. There are worse roles to play. I didn't even cry the entire time I was there. I waited until I drove home and "I'm Not the Only One" by Sam Smith came on the radio.

My brother and I went to go see Art Alexakis at The Amsterdam. He even Tweeted back at me to let me know I could buy tickets at the door! My brother was with his girlfriend, so I was happy to have Elizabeth Ess as my sidekick for the evening. We met an older woman who was trying to dance like she was in a Whitesnake video and she kept grinding on her muscular boyfriend who was not having any of it. My brother's girlfriend has a natural ability to find out everything about everyone, so we later found out that she was ten years older than her boyfriend and felt insecure about it and that she was pretty sure he was going to propose to her. I was rooting for those two.

Yes I know all about that other guy
The handsome man with athletic thighs
I know all about the times before
Yeah, with that obsessive little rich boy
They might make you think you're happy
Yeah, maybe for a minute or two
But they can't make you laugh
No, they can't make you feel the way that I do

Art Alexakis was my teenage years. My brother somehow became enamored with him and we had all his CD's. I was mentally ill and erratic and we fought a lot. Because of the honesty of those albums, I think my brother was able to understand me in a way that he probably couldn't have if he didn't have those songs. And I look back and realize that maybe I was able to understand myself a little better as well. I ended up quitting Paxil cold turkey (which you SHOULD. NOT. EVER. DO.) and my brother still cringes whenever I refer to those years as times when I 'went crazy', but I really *do* think it was Art Alexakis that helped us understand each other a little bit better. My favorite song was "Sunflowers". Art asked for requests and Dane and I kept shouting it. He finally played a little of it, but he admitted that it always makes him cry.

Someone also requested "Good Witch of the North" and he replied "Fuck no!" and I thought it was a hilarious and appropriate response.

            ***

I didn't even want to go out on Thanksgiving Eve.

But! Plot twist! I didn't go home alone that night! Kevin and I ran two blocks and hailed a taxi cab and took it to his house and I brought him to my Thanksgiving. I would invite him to Christmas but I'm pretty sure that means we have to get married. He has a new job and a Bowflex and he is 31 and on the way to his house "I'm Not the Only One" by Sam Smith came on the radio and while I was mad at him for being rude to the taxi driver, I put my head in his lap and cried anyway. I don't even know why I was crying.



        ***

I still haven't heard from St. Thomas. They want my transcript from MCTC, where I went to film school for a month and a half and then was all "Fuck this shit" and left. I don't have a good track record. But that was in 2009! I am slightly less stupid then. I don't have Mommy Issues anymore. Now I get sad about boys and bankruptcy and (comedy rule of three! something that starts with a B!) ... boogers. Boogers are gross, you guys.

         ***

I had a fabulous weekend at birthday parties at Heyday and Marvel Bar. The last one was for my friend Tan Man. He has a spirit that is as beautiful as his eight-pack. We had to stand outside for ten minutes and the bouncer let me wear his jacket. Someone was raised right.

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?