Loring Park Episode #59: An Enema and an Eggbake

This episode begins with me crying in the middle of The Saloon, like a goddamned lady.

I had been in my fourth week of limbo, in which I was living with my parents (by choice) but still wanting to go out and agreeing to stay with friends. Considering I had moved out by my own choice while still paying for all the utilities and my rent, I felt it would be beyond hypocritical for me to use my bedroom as a crash pad while still being mad at everyone.

A few nights before this, I was going to go home with Reid but there was a snafu and so I crashed at Jack's apartment. Jack's apartment is fabulously decorated, and not just because his boyfriend Barrett came over and they both have bodies like dancers (probably because they are dancers). On this evening, I was going to go home with Joey, but there was miscommunication and I thought he had left, and then I realized that I was stranded at the bar and this wasn't my faulttttttt (but it was).

Four years ago -- when life was bliss in hindsight -- I had a friend who lived in the suburbs who would frequently go to the bar, get drunk, and expect to crash at my place by the time it was bar close because he had made no plans to crash anywhere else and assumed I would just let him do it. And I did, about five times, and then I got really annoyed by it. I realized I was now being that person. I just wanted to go home. But what was home? Why hadn't I tried to work things out with Jared? It felt like a death or a divorce.

Sven, the pixie go-go boy, saw that I was crying and offered me a ride home to Esquire's house in South Minneapolis, where Steve was staying one last night before moving in with me. This is 29, getting a ride home from a beautiful and effervescent 20-year-old while the tears ruin your shitty make-up job.

The next morning I broke the faucet in Esquire's shower. I cannot have nice things.

Steve started his dramatic move, and I went to LUSH instead because I am a good friend. It was Robin's birthday and I can't turn down birthday cake! The drag legend Dee Richards joined us. I had more fun talking to Robin's mom and sister than anyone else. I love moms. I can't help it. As for my own mother, I currently owe her enough money to buy a house in Chanhassen.

***

Loring Park Episode #52: And the Rest is Drag (SEASON FOUR PREMIERE!)

Previously on the series finale* of Loring Park ...

Jakey had an illuminating card reading! The boys found a new apartment! Jakey lost his wallet AND locked his keys in the car.

We said good-bye to Loring Park.

We live by Stevens Square Park now. It doesn't sound as sexy. I just call it Loring Park Adjacent. It's not necessarily a new show. We still have the same friends, work at the same job, and take the same exit off the freeway.

And we have a million shows on our TV which means I should stop going out all the damn time. I should buy a yoga mat to tell myself I will do crunches, but in reality I'll probably just end up eating nachos. I'm going to the Lake Calhoun pool party over Pride weekend and even though Chad Kampe (DJ Fancy Restaurant) told me they do "no body-shaming", I'm still worried I am going to be mistaken for a buoy.

***

"I trusted you," he said, and even next to me he sounded distant.
"I know," I said. "I'm sorry."

Sorry is about as effective as epsom salts for a headache. Despite any benevolence in my intentions, I had lied. And then I lied about lying. As Judge Judy says, you have to tell the truth because you eventually won't be able to keep your story straight.

He dropped me off at my parents' house at 3 AM where I promptly peed about a gallon on their front lawn.

"Text me when you get home," I said.
"No," he said. "I can't talk to you right now. It will be a few days."

It has been a month now. I am okay.

By "okay" I mean that my heart physically hurts and I have spent the last month walking around feeling like I have an open wound and I haven't been sleeping and even when I was in the same room as one of my personal heroes (we'll get to that later), I couldn't stop thinking about it. Out of anxiety, I have bitten my lips to the point that I resemble Angelina Jolie if she had canker sores.

I am sad. So damn sad. But integrity has to trump your own emotions and preferences. He might not ever speak to me again, and that would be entirely his prerogative. I coped by listening to Christian radio and eating a lot of gummy bears. The hole in my heart transferred to a hole in my stomach lining.

I also listened to "Infinity" over and over, because I will always have Mariah.

And if I forget about this whole thing, May was a pretty damn good month.

***


For one thing, we moved! My grandparents helped out and it wasn't nearly as arduous as I thought it would be, but moving is still never fun. I'm convinced that our rent will go way up next year, but if it doesn't, Jared and I are staying here until we are 40 (unless he gets married or I decide to move back to New York). Also, you will be shocked, just SHOCKED, to learn that in the moment we were to turn in our keys was also the moment that I locked my keys in the car. Again.

The stress of moving was so great that I went back to the closet. #muffintop

We live in the bottom half of a basement in Stevens Square. It has been a month and I still haven't made any dumb jokes about us being bottoms. The lady upstairs is also the caretaker of the house. Jared has met her and says she's really nice. I have never met her but I didn't know that our driveway was shared and on the very first day, I was greeted with a note that read:

Please park all the way to the right so I don't have to park all the way in the trees. Seriously. Who does that????

My very first passive-aggressive note! Never change, Minnesota.

Loring Park Episode #50: The Milwaukee Show

Here we go, children! This week's episode begins on location, because my friend Charlie and I trekked to beautiful Milwaukee!

Charlie and I are kindred spirits for a few reasons. We are both Cancers. We are both deep thinkers. We can both quote Alanis Morrisette at the top of a hat (him more so than I -- I can admittedly only do so for her first three albums). And while he is six years my junior, we both love that era of WWF/WWE that was the "Attitude" era, especially when the women are concerned. My favorite will always be 7-time WWE Women's Champion Trish Stratus, and his will always be Terri "Marlena" Runnels, who had a remarkably long tenure in the business for a woman. While Terri was never a wrestler (although she *did* win the Hardcore Championship once), she worked tirelessly in different roles, as a glamorous silent manager to Goldust, a shrewd businesswoman in "P.M.S.", a horny little she-devil in a rivalry with The Kat, and finally as an interviewer who would occasionally get thrown into the ring to make one of the bad girls look even meaner (see the times Victoria or Molly Holly/Gail Kim beat her up to get the crowd to boo).

"Do you want to go meet Terri in Wisconsin?" Charlie asked me months ago.
"Sure!" I said. I thought nothing of it. I went to school in Menomonie, WI (about 70 miles east of Minneapolis), so Wisconsin wasn't a far away land to me. I didn't ask any follow-up questions. I assumed we would have a lovely day trip in Eau Claire.

"I'm so excited to see Terri!" Charlie said months later. "Did you take the whole weekend off work? It's in Milwaukee."

My trepidation was quelled when I found out Sean would be there that weekend, too! His family is from there and he was going to be in the city at the same time as us. Charlie and I booked a two-night stay at the Hilton. I felt bad for missing Jared's birthday party and suggested that my mother go on his behalf.

"I'll go if he's not so drunk he can't keep his eyes open," she said. "Maybe next year when he outgrows that kind of thing."

Charlie is from South Dakota and is used to driving for hours at a time with no interruptions, but when I wasn't complaining about wanting to sleep, I was complaining about wanting to pee! We stopped in Menomonie, Wisconsin, so I could relive my college days. We stopped at The Acoustic Cafe, where I was impressed by their gender-neutral bathrooms and horrified by coverage of Scott Walker. Scott Walker is the dirt worst. He is so bad that Republicans from Minnesota are writing letters encouraging businesses to open up shops in Minnesota. True story.

In the car, I asked Charlie for chap stick. "I don't share that kind of stuff," he said. "You need to trim your nose hairs, too."
"Oh, no, I didn't bring my nose hair trimmer!" I cried. "Can I use yours?"
"Ew!" Charlie scoffed. "No."
I understand not wanting to share a nose hair trimmer (and I thought I looked like Cousin Itt until I looked in the mirror and realized that it wasn't that bad), but the chap stick thing threw me for a loop. Charlie would later apologize and I told him it wasn't necessary -- I just found it an interesting quirk. I think of myself as someone who shares everything, but I suppose I am in between the extremes of Charlie and my friend Jacey, who will walk up to you if you are eating ice cream and ask for some and when you tell her you don't have a spoon, she'll say "I don't care" and use yours without even asking. I love her, by the way.

We had a few stops before the hotel room. We had to pee so we found a Burger King and both ordered a small fries. We were the only ones there and it took five minutes. I was going to ask for ketchup but one of the girls behind the counter was crying and I decided my ketchup could wait. Then we went to a store that was part liquor store, part grocery store, and part convenience shop where you could pay your light bill and things like that. We were going to stop at a vintage store Charlie had seen on Yelp but it was all boarded up.

"This is ghetto," said Charlie, who is from rural South Dakota.
"Stop saying ghetto," I said.
"Why?"
"It just ... doesn't seem right," I said. Yes, Milwaukee is 85% African-American and most of its income is in the greater suburbs, and therefore the public schools are not very good, and there are some neighborhoods the police don't even patrol anymore, and this was the first time I had been panhandled walking outside of a Walgreens. Still, I do not feel comfortable using the term "ghetto" when describing an impoverished, mostly black neighborhood. It feels icky.

We finally arrived in downtown Milwaukee. Any fatigue I had left when we were greeted by handsome men in full formal military apparel. Our hotel was having a military ball!!! God is real. My favorite things are ladies in pretty dresses, Marines, and a good love ballad.

Sean was visiting with his parents and joined up with us about 10:00, while Charlie and I enjoyed the WWE Network (and being ripped off by the hotel which tried charging both of us for Internet access. Ugggghhhhh).

Charlie started drinking earlier, but I wanted to wait. If I'm going to be out at 2 AM, I don't want to be half in the bag at 11, y'know? We watched more wrestling and listened to sad Alanis and Mariah song, and Sean was our chaperone for the course of the evening.

First we went to a club called .... Liquid? ... They blur together. We saw some drag queens. It was nice. Then we went to La Cage, which had cash only cover. I was bitching about this because just before our trip Wells Fargo had completely decimated my checking account. It was between these two venues that Charlie was getting belligerent.

I played darts with Sean and two of his friends. A shot boy walked around with a tray.

Sigh.

I am the last person to make comments about somebody's body. When I take my shirt off, I look like an albino 16-year-old girl who is growing slight chest hair because her body is eating itself due to anorexia.

That said, I am not a shot boy. In Minneapolis our shot boys are people like my friend Tan Man who works at two different gyms and is 9% body fat, or my friend Robin who is a classically trained dancer and is 9% body fat. In Milwaukee, the shot boy had man boobs, stretch marks, and was wearing grey Hanes. If you would have asked him who Andrew Christian was, he would have probably thought you were drunk and talking about two of your friends.

Charlie somehow finagled a free shot. And then he continued being rude. He wasn't throwing drinks or anything, but he kept talking about how bored he was, and was generally acting like a 15-year-old girl that you bring to your grandma's house on the lake for a weekend. Also, at one point he made fun of someone's hair and apparently that person has had five rounds of chemo. Whoopsie.

In a surprising showing of maturity, Charlie agreed to go back to the hotel. I paid for his Uber and it was less than $5. And then I was able to see what Milwaukee is like on the town!! By which I totally made out with that shot boy. You can't shame the shameless.

Sean and I ended our night at This is It, which was really quaint and reminded me of the 19. And I met Season 7 RuPaul's Drag Race contestant Trixie Mattel!

No, she was actually there. I didn't just talk to a poster. She was out of drag and was super nice and friendly, and I'm sure I mortified her by trying to present myself as a peer ("I'm a performer, tooooo ....)". I'll be rooting her for this season (And Max, of course, because local girls gotta stick together).

Sean and I went to Toppers Pizza and I ate the whole damn thing. I think I gained a good ten pounds in Milwaukee.

                                            ***

The next day, Charlie felt terrible, both in terms of hangover and shame.

"Was I really that mean?!" he kept asking.
"Text Sean about it," I said. It was between the two of them. As embarrassed as I was about Charlie's behavior, he hadn't said anything mean to me, and I'm much more willing to forgive bad behavior if someone is trite about it immediately.
"That's why I don't drink that much," he said.

I do find this fascinating. I drink, um, a bit -- okay, a lot -- and I don't get mean. The worst thing I ever did was slap that kid's ass when he wore the Adrian Peterson family because I thought it would be funny! (Turns out his last name was Peterson and his boyfriend did NOT find this amusing). And there was the time a boy who was a thousand times better looking than me was going to sleep with someone I was in love with and I said "I know the score". Okay. Nobody is perfect, certainly not me. However, I don't get mean! I don't understand the concept of being a mean drunk. You drink to dull your pain, not maximize it. If you're a mean drunk, stay home or drink club soda.

On a lighter note, this is the AMAZING card that Charlie made for Terri.* How creative is he?? We went to Walgreens to buy 99 cent Wet 'n' Wild lipstick, and clearly Charlie is a better kisser than me. Then, on the inside, IT PLAYED TERRI'S THEME MUSIC.

*I suppose I can write here now a note about code names. By using real pictures and even evidence of real names, you might wonder why I am still bothering with the use of code names, at least for this particular "character". I can only suggest that, for this particular person, it is a matter of striving for consistency. There are few people who have never had code names, and they will stay that way. 

In the card, he wrote her a beautiful and heartfelt letter about how he was a gay kid from South Dakota and he found strength by doing the "Terri pose" against his fence (when Terri would enter the ring, she would lean against the ropes and do a kiss-face to the crowd, with her back leg raised up in coquettish fashion -- I would do the same thing climbing my bunk at summer camp). He wrote that he was here with his friend Jakey, who was also gay, also a Cancer, and also a fan of all things Divas.

He then wrote that he would love to take her out to dinner and gave her his phone number.

"Is that too much?" he asked.
"Well ... I wouldn't," I honestly said. Truth. I could be in an elevator with Channing Tatum and act like I didn't know him. "But it's also a now or never thing. When will you have this opportunity again? You are braver than me."

Of course, getting to the arena took forever because I left my debit card in the room, the ATM at the hotel wasn't working (but we did get to walk past the Broadcasters Hall of Fame plaques, and there was a guy whose name was legitimately Dick Record. I loved it!), and it was snowing! We arrived and the line to meet the wrestlers was a good 200+ people long.

The other wrestlers were Matt Hardy, King Kong Bundy, and Kevin Nash, the latter of which I was going to have sign my copy of "Magic Mike" and I forgot it. And I have two of them!! While in line we stood next to a young woman and her niece, and she went on and on about who she met and invited us to indie shows she was working on. While I don't follow wrestling nearly as much as I used to, it reminded me of conventions I would go to in Las Vegas with people on the forums of wrestling observer.com -- and as dorky as it sounds to someone not familiar with it, there is this instant connection of kindred spirit and brotherhood that happens with a fellow wrestling fan. Charlie and I driving six hours to meet a particular woman was ample evidence of this.

To meet the wrestlers you had to buy tickets to the hockey game, so we were at the Bradley Center, where the Milwaukee Admirals were hosting the Rochester Americans. The first period ended while we were in line. While I have never seen a hockey game, I was kind of bummed. Those tickets weren't cheap, and when would I ever see a hockey game again?"

"How long is a period?" I asked Charlie.
"Like ... a woman's?" he asked.
"No!" I cried. "In hockey!"
"Oh, I don't know," he said. "Probably shorter than a woman's, though."
"Well, no shit, Charlie," I said.

A burly man came up to us as we neared the pillar. The signing went from 2-4, and it was about 3:40.

"FOLKS!" he cried. "At this time there are NO PICTURES!! JUST AUTOGRAPHS!"

My heart sank in my chest. I had begun to think this trip had all been a bust. What if I had had cash on me to begin with? What if I hadn't forgotten my debit card? What if Charlie had come back from lunch with his professor friend earlier? Would we just get her autograph, smile, and walk away?

Matt Hardy was up first. He can still get it, girls. King Kong Bundy didn't say anything but smiled. Then. Oh crap. Here we go. Terri Runnels.

"Hi, Terri," I said in lightning fast fashion and handed her the card. "I made this for you." I totally lied! Charlie made it!

"Open it," I cried. "It plays your theme music!"

She was elated. "Oh my god," she cried. "Oh, just get one picture."

WE TOOK THREE BECAUSE CHARLIE IS MUCH MORE CONFRONTATIONAL THAN I AM AND ON THIS OCCASION IT WAS FOR GOOD. THE GUY YELLED AT US THE ENTIRE TIME.

Amidst the yelling, Kevin Nash graciously signed an 8 x 10 for my mother (who loves him!), and Charlie and I hi-fived like Terri and Jacqueline of Pretty Mean Sisters.

Then we were finally ready for the hockey game! Charlie was too much on a high from the Terri moment to focus, but I wanted to relish the moment. I decided that I LOVE HOCKEY. I think I was spoiled because the game itself was really good and went into overtime. But I also loved the aggression of it. 85% of my love for hockey was heterosexual, but there was a 15% equivalent of me hoping that at one point the dudes would take their masks off and start kissing.

Nevertheless, my newfound passion of hockey only led to positive things, BECAUSE THE ADMIRALS WON IN OVERTIME!!!

They actually won 6-5, but that's the picture that came up. Okay, then.

Charlie and I prepared for a quiet night in, watching the Grammys. My favorite performance was Rihanna w/Jay-Z and Paul McCartney. I loved Sam Smith's speech about thanking the man who broke his heart. It was just like when I wrote a show in the Fringe Festival only not at all. Also, I have realized my celebrity doppelgänger is Beck and I am not sure how I feel about that.

We invited Sean out for Round Two, but he decided to stay in (a decision for which I couldn't entirely blame him). As the Grammys came to a close, Charlie's phone went off from a Florida area code.

"Who is ... oh, crap," he said. "I think it's Terri!"
"Answer it!!" I cried.

Charlie did his best impression of a teenage girl who is finally getting asked out by the star quarterback for spring formal.

"Hello?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.
"Hi, can I ask who I'm speaking with?" the demure voice on the other end said.
"This is Charlie," he said.
"Oh, good," the woman said. "This is Terri. I just wanted to call and let you guys know that I fell in love with you two from the minute I saw you, and that card was so creative and warmed my heart. I just got back from dinner with Kevin Nash."

We invited her out to the gay bar but she said she was too tired. Maybe next time.

Oh, but this was the best part.

"If you guys ever need anything, let me know," said Terri Runnels. She, who kicked Marc Mero in the nuts and formed the first ever female stable in the World Wrestling Federation. She, who was sprayed by a milk truck by Kurt Angle. She, who had The Fabulous Moolah in her corner at WrestleMania 2000. She, who in the very building we had met her, was tarred and feathered by Stacy Keibler after a lingerie pillow fight and legitimately almost died because one of the feathers got stuck in her throat from the syrup. Okay, they're not all glamorous.

I decided to let Charlie keep her number under lock and key. I don't need to be texting Terri Runnels at 2 in the morning next time I'm sad about a dude.
But I love him, Terri, I will write. Even if he comes and goes like inclement weather.
You need to find a man who will be like Florida, she will write. Always warm and comfortable ;)

A boy can dream.

Oh, also, this:

                     ***

I was so saddened to find out that we had lost Linda Reed to esophageal cancer. I have worked at the Mall of America for six and a half years, and Linda, who was a cashier at Holiday on the first floor, was always a highlight of my day, especially on those in which I was sleep-deprived or hung over or crabby or broken-hearted or all of the above. She genuinely *loved* that job and the people she interacted with every day, and there was not a mall employee who wasn't affected by her genuine joy for her customers and occupation. They had this posted on the counter for about a week. I was most moved by the discovery that she had a family. I had no reason to think she *didn't* have one, but to all of us she was Linda. I had no idea she was a "wife of", a " mother of", a "sister to", or that her father was a reverend. I will think of her every day.

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 #46: I Left My Liver in Miami

Hello, children! We are in November already! It was a crazy October, and that’s even if I didn’t go on a trip that I couldn’t afford.

               ***

 

I saw Gone Girl. What did you think? They showed a preview of 50 Shades of Grey and I started giggling. It is worth noting that I saw it with two cute boys and purposely sat in the middle. I am 12 years old. The dude on my left yelled “Son of a bitch” at the two hour mark because he had a leg cramp and I almost spilled my orange soda on the boy on my right. I cannot have nice things.

Y’know what was nice? Doing comedy at Nye’s! It unfortunately no longer has the room because show business is the devil. I met up with Dennis that night and we went to the Gay ‘90s, which has a $10 cover on Thursdays. And I wonder how I went bankrupt (it’s because they have dollar drinks, but I am a princess who eschews rail drinks. Dennis bought me something with Ketel in it and I quit pouting). Dennis grew up in Miami, so I spent most of the evening asking him stupid questions about it. The essentials were that a) everyone looks like a body builder so I will fit right in and b) it is expensive as fuck. Oh, good.

We made our way down Hennepin to The Saloon, and I ran into Kevin! Kevin has a new job and a leather jacket and an earring and maybe it’s a total quarter life crisis (boy did just turn 31), but he was rocking a Johnny Depp look and I wasn’t nearly as sloppy drunk as I was the last time I saw him. I ignored him for 15 minutes even though he was right next to me because he had hurt my feelings.

“You told me to go home,” I told him

“You were really sloppy,” he said.

“I guess I was,” I agreed.

“I haven’t heard from you,” he said.

“Well, I didn’t know the boundaries,” I said. Kevin is living a new healthy lifestyle and I don’t know if it appropriate for me to make contact with him considering I am a partyhound booze bag.

“You have a phone,” he said. I told him that once and it really hurt his feelings.

We went to his house together. Jared was livid because he thought I was driving, but hell froze over and Kevin drives now! I am enjoying this new version of him.

There was no sexy time except spooning and that is fine because he is good at it. Some men really hate it (including Jared. He hated sharing a bed with Joey in Florida because “Joey is like a damn cat”). Kevin treats it like a sport. He takes it full on and puts his arms around me like he means it, and I slept like a smiling baby. His cat woke me up at noon while Kevin had been productive all morning, because I am a great guest that way.

When he dropped me off at work, I caressed his chest like a slut. I haven’t seen him since. Timing is everything.

                   ***

Paul Ryan and I enjoyed dinner at Hard Rock Café while I was on my break at work. I only had 60 minutes, so I practically sprinted to get there, which amused him as he glided in his Hugo Boss ensemble. I applied to St. Thomas, so I grilled him with questions because he is part of that educated, old-money world.

“I wore a suit when I took my tour,” he said.

“I’m not wearing a suit,” I blasted. He told tales of travel and debauchery and his plans for New Year’s Eve. I ordered a non-alcoholic drink with orange juice and Red Bull in it, because I like to gamble with my digestive system. He ordered a sparkling water and we got it comped when he was given flat water instead.

“It’s so nice to see you not drunk,” he said.

“And with clothes on,” I said, trying to be funny and sexy.

“Oh,” he said. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot about that.”

 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said.

“It’s fine,” I pouted.

Somehow my ID ended up on the table.

“You’re 27?” he asked.

“You’re bad at math,” I said, and then lowered myself to a whisper. “I’m 28.”

“You’re so cute,” he said. “With your big eyes and the fast way you walk.”

I squinted, because that is how I react to compliments.

                          ***

I thoroughly enjoyed my visit to University of St. Thomas! I still have no idea if I will get in, in part because it has been three weeks and I still haven’t sent my ACT scores and AP scores and I have to send a letter defending myself because I never officially withdrew from CUNY Brooklyn College and I might be dealing with a whole semester of F’s. Although, I don’t think I technically took anything higher than fourth grade math.

But that’s the strategy of my life lately. Throw things to the wall and see what sticks. My friend Shelly thought this was profound and took a weekend gig playing piano at a theater camp. “Theater people are so expressive,” she told me. “And my shower didn’t work so the choreographers said I could use their bathroom. I think they had every single hygiene product ever made in their shower! They had at least three different shampoos! And we were only there for a weekend!”

My best friend Erin works at UST, so she joined my tour. Since I hadn’t taken a college tour since 2007, I thought it would be a group setting. No! It was just me and an accounting major! She was very sweet and planned to return to Omaha after graduation to work at her parents’ landfill. This was the day of the shooting in Ottawa, and we had a measured and interesting conversation about guns. I enjoyed it. I also enjoyed walking by the gym, because I am only woman.

I didn’t feel like I totally belonged until I met my transfer advisor, who teared up when she told me how much she loved the university and when I told her about being named Funniest Person in the Twin Cities and writing a Fringe Festival show about unrequited love, her eyes widened.

“You’re not very old, are you?” she asked.

“I’m 28,” I said.

“Well, you look ten years younger,” she said. “And you’ve accomplished so much in your young life.”

That might have been worth more than the damn degree.

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 #40: Mothers and Daughters

It has been so long, dear readers! I don't even have an excuse why this episode took two months to post. Some of it was kind of painful, so we'll go with that.

Chapter 1: Easter
                                 

I GOT PREGNANT.

Okay, not really.

But I'm struggling with my body.

When I'm naked, I have a flat somach.

When I put clothes on, this happens.

Yes, I *do* need to exercise more and tone things up, but I don't have a gut until I get dressed. Then a magic muffin top appears. I'm 5'7" with a crazy short torso, and I'm constantly standing next to people with great bodies. This is Robin, and he has abs you could grate cheese on.

Why did I bring up cheese? Now I just want some mozzarella sticks.

Anyway, this picture was taken on Easter Sunday, and was a lot of fun! I went with Jared, and we sat with some co-workers and Chuck. When I walked inside, Chuck's brother's roommate -- who is handsome and hetero -- was there with his girlfriend. I asked them if they would be willing to play a game with me. Let me tell you, this random 6'2" blonde dude played his part perfectly.

We went back to the patio where my friends were sitting, when the dude came up to me and said the line I gave him. "Jakey," he said. "You ... You didn't call me."
My female co-worker looked shocked.
"Well, I've been really busy," I said. "You look good."
"Thanks," he said. "I'm ... uh .... here with my girlfriend."
"Oh!" I cried, doing my best Emmy acting. "Hi. Nice to meet you."

They walked back inside and my co-worker was beside herself. "What was that?!" she cried. I love acting.

My mother soon picked us up to bring us to our grandparents' house for Easter. Jared had maybe one too many mimosas, and I was worried about him appearing too drunk for a religious holiday. Unfortunately, I was the one who came across as hammered when my Grandma Shirley opened the door.

"Where did the bathroom go?" were my first words. In my defense, they just moved to the townhouse and I had forgotten!

The dinner was delicious, and I felt grateful that my definition of family has been broadened. I was moving in with Jared soon, and while I describe him as my nonsexual life partner in a joking kind of way, he really is that, just in the way that Erin is my platonic soulmate and Joey is my adopted son. I fell asleep on my grandparents' bed, Jared fell asleep on the living room, and we were still more fun than my brother would have been. (I kid!)

On the way back to LUSH, I was freaking out because I thought I had left my keys in the car. Turns out I hadn't just left them in the car, I had left them in the ignition. I do not know how I survive, either. I am the reason my mother takes Lipitor.

Loring Park Episode #39: Sometimes it Snows in April

Before we begin this episode, we have to briefly go back to my Oscar party, because I forgot to write how funny it was.

"Is Kim Novak presenting 'Frozen' because her face is that way?"
"Why is Zac Efron famous?" - from one of the three heterosexual males who was in the group. The women and gays booed him mercilessly.
"You would rather have sex with Anne Hathaway than Daniel Craig? That somehow makes you really gay."


I was behaving myself until the announcer said, "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Charlize Theron and Chris Hemsworth."

Then I turned into an eight-year-old with Tourette's Syndrome.

GOD DAMMIT SHIT FUCK!!!

"Jacob!" my mother yelled. "I am going to start having a swear jar in this house!"
"Why do you swear so much at Chris Hemsworth?" Joey asked.
I didn't have the heart to tell a crowded room why. We'll go with Tourette's. That is perfectly reasonable. And let's be realistic. It's not like Chris Hemsworth reminds me of anybody.

God dammit.

                                                    ***

My life always goes to shit in April. I am not saying this to get sympathy. I am blessed. I have loving family and friends, a job with health insurance that I don't entirely suck at, my feet firmly planted into the Minneapolis comedy scene, a 28-inch waist*, the entire series of Roseanne on DVD, and a plethora of eye candy at my disposal.

(*I hate myself for that because I just wrote on the TelevisionWithoutPity.com forums that it bugged the hell out of me on RuPaul's Drag Race when Kelly Mantle bragged about her 28-inch waist. Here we are)

But the fact that April hates me remains. Before I go into details, let me recount the years so you know I'm not just saying this.

2000: Hospitalized for depression
2007: Firm in my realization that I am leaving UW-Stout, my brother informs me that I have been accepted at CUNY Brooklyn College. I have been depressed and numb for the past nine months, so it's like I'm not even there when my father accompanies me on the plane ride and we stay at a Howard Johnson in the ghetto. I apply for Creative Writing as my major and I roll my eyes at the man who goes over my prospective first classes with me.
2008: I drop out of CUNY Brooklyn College, to the surprise of absolutely no one, especially my father and mother, who discouraged me from going and staying, respectively.
2011: I get called a faggot on a party bus for my friend Kristen's birthday and subsequently break my nose at The Saloon when I fall off the whorebox. I wrote about it here.
2013: You were there. That puke stain never really went away, by the way.

But April did have some sunny spots. We'll talk about the end of March first, though.

Loring Park Episode #38: Dallas Haters Club

Previously on Loring Park: Jakey didn't exactly have a Valentine, but had good company nonetheless.

On a Tuesday night, I got to do five minutes of jokes at House of Comedy! I mainly talked about my cousin's wedding in San Diego. Jared and Charlie came to see me, and so did T.J., my bartender/therapist! He was with his friend Prince Eric. Halfway through the show, Kevin texted me asking if I could go to The Saloon to get the credit card that he forgot on Sunday (he was going to Vegas the next day). I asked T.J. about it and he said Kevin would have to go to the bar himself with his ID (which is par for the course, and I've forgotten to close my tab an embarrassing amount of times). I called Kevin in the bathroom and he was frustrated.

I was excited to see all the boys and I felt bad that I didn't know T.J. was coming, because I could have comped his ticket! I knew who Prince Eric was.

"I've met you at the bar," said Prince Eric.
"I've met you before," I smiled. (I came over to Kevin's for the first time and Prince Eric showed up and asked if I was sleeping on the couch. This was two years ago)

Jared and I went to The Saloon later because it was karaoke! Tuesdays are kind of a sparse crowd. There was a boy who I follow on Instagram. He is from Dallas and moved here and posts pictures of himself working out with his shirt off. I thought he was cute. I was going to say hi to him, but the moment never presented itself, and I believe the moment has to be organic.

Before singing, I stopped at the office just to see if they had Kevin's credit card. They did, but they (understandably!) wouldn't give it to me. I wasn't mad because I got to talk to Eddie who is the cutest bouncer there.

Kevin called and was livid. "Kevin, they're not going to give me your credit card," I said. "I could have your name tattooed on my ass and they would keep it."

He was exasparated. "Wha -- I-- okay," he said. "I love you. I have to go. Bye."

It was nice of him to say that. I don't know. Prince Eric was super nice and cordial, and yet seeing him reminded me that the first time I had gone to this boy's apartment, he invited someone else over. And yes, that was almost two years ago and you would think I would be over something like that. And I am. But seeing Prince Eric made me realize that while Kevin and I will always be friends and I will always have positive feelings about him, I could never feel secure in a relationship with him. If he dated another medical student/stripper now, I really would be okay with it.

Except then I get drunk and tell people I am going to marry him. Whatever.

Jared and I sang Lauryn Hill's (Doo Wop) That Thing and wowed the crowd. We changed the words so they were gayer.

Jocks, you know you better watch out
Some twinks, some twinks are only about
That thing
That thing
That thing


***


A week later, WWE Elimination Chamber was in town and Dollface Killer had great seats! I wanted to hear about it, but first Jared and I went to The Saloon, and by the time I got to Dollface's apartment, it was 4 in the morning! He lives down the street.

I must have been really drunk because I instantly asked for water. We watched 2001 Survivor Series, but I only wanted to watch the Trish Stratus match. I didn't even physically react when he took his shirt off.

The next morning, he texted me and told me I was a "fucking alci" [sic]. I was so sad about this that I went day drinking at brunch with Jared and Joey at Brit's Pub and then I went drinking again with Erin at The Pourhouse! Mondays are supposed to be my nights to go to ACME Comedy Club and make my dreams come true!

It was an embarrassing situation. On some levels, I was upset at Dollface. You're gonna call me an alcoholic when every time you've seen me is at the bar and every time you text me is after 2 A.M.?? Yet I am still so damn socially awkward that I have yet to understand that when a dude invites you over at 4 AM, he doesn't want to watch wrestling as much as he wants to, um, wrestle. Also, I talk a big game about how hot Dollface Killer is, and maybe it was karma biting me back. He is so attractive and chiseled that I forgot to realize that he is also capable of having feelings and emotions.
               
                         ***

Speaking of emotions, Paul Ryan never talked to me again after he got me naked. I shouldn't have been surprised by it. If I were a woman dating straight men, and a man chased me for two months and then we finally got naked and I didn't let him stick it in, I wouldn't expect to hear from that guy, either.

Nevertheless, I saw him at The Saloon that Saturday and it was sooooo awkward.

"Hello, Jakey," he said, in the way that you say hi to your aunt at a Christmas party.
"PAUL RYAN!" I cried. I tried to kiss him, but it was odd because a) he did not recipocrate and b) he is 6'4".

I would have been sad about this, but immediately in the distance near the dance floor was GAY OPRAH! I had seen him at The Saloon a few months prior but didn't know if he would know who I was. This time, he was quite outgoing.

"Hello, Jakey," he sang.
"Hi!" I cried. I really thought it would end there, because he knows everybody. But instead he even introduced me to his friends!

"This is Jakey," he went on. "And he wrote a fantastic play that was all about the Minneapolis gay scene." This meant a lot to me because, of all the five performances we had, Oprah had seen by far the worst one (our second performance, on the Sunday afternoon).
"Thank you, Oprah," I said. "That is very sweet."
"You know, I tried to be an actor when I was a kid," he said. "I even had head shots and everything! And I went to an acting teacher and she said that I 'needed to find a different creative outlet'."
"That is so sad!" I cried. "I think you're doing okay with the creative outlet thing."
It was a lovely moment, and I was truly grateful for it. My ego and self-esteem levels were at optimal levels.

So it is only natural that a week later, they both came crashing to a halt.

It is so ironic that before I left the house that night, I even Facebooked a favorite Margaret Cho quote of mine.

So from the age of 10, I became anorexic, and then bulimic, and then stayed that way for about 20 years, until one day I just said, "Hey, what if this is it? What if this is just what I look like and nothing I do changes that? So how much time would I save if I stopped taking that extra second every time I look in the mirror to call myself a big fat fuck? How much time would I save if I just let myself walk by a plate-glass window without sucking in my gut and throwing back my shoulders? How much time would I save?" And it turns out I save about 97 minutes a week. I can take a pottery class.

 I strolled in with Jared, and we soon reunited with Joey at Danny's bar. The boy from Dallas was there, and he made a comment about Joey's facial hair. I laughed because I thought he and Joey knew each other really well.

"No, I don't really know him," Joey said. "I mean, I know who he is."
"Oh, that's kinda weird," I said. I continued to enjoy the evening. It was crowded, I knew a lot of people, and I was feeling good about myself.

Jared caught me at T.J.'s bar. "You'll thank me for this," he said. "There's someone who I want you to talk to."
I followed him and ran into Chuck, who I haven't spoken to since the New Year's Eve debacle. It wasn't horribly awkward because we were both honest with each other, a surprisingly brazen concept.

"You told me to stop talking to you, so I did," I said.
"I still enjoy you, I just don't think I can be very close with you anymore," he said. We got along fine after that.

We found ourselves back at T.J.'s bar, where I felt an inexplicable need to order a shot. But I am a pussy about shots and always sip them. Dallas and his friends were next to me.

"Oh, I know who you are," I said. "I follow you on Instagram." I saw him on Grindr and he linked to his Instragram profile and I thought Why the hell not? Eye candy is eye candy.
"You follow me on Instagram?" he asked me in the same tone of voice you would use to a three-year-old who told you she went poopie in the potty. "That's so cute. Shoot your drink!"
"I have to sip it!" I cried. "I always have to think of something to drink to."
"You should drink to hair growth," he said.

This is the part in which I tell you that I delivered an amazing and witty diatribe that shut him and his friends down and led to applause from the rest of the bar.

But I said nothing. I suppose I can best compare it to when Donny Osmond went on The Rosie O'Donnell Show and called her fat.

Okay, the above clip is actually of him apologizing (and Marie came out! And they made him sing "Puppy Love" in a dog suit! Hilarity!)

I couldn't find an adequate quote about the incident (but I did find her speaking about it in something called Radiance magazine), so I'll have to summarize it from the first-season retrospective DVD that QVC did for The Rosie O'Donnell Show that I totally bought (and they only did the one season! Boo!).

If you see a clip of the incident, there's a transition on Rosie's face in which her disbelief turns to despair, and that's what I was going through. I was so blindsided by this random stranger insulting me that by the time I was able to process it, he was off to presumably insult other people. T.J. told me that I handled it well and that he was surprised I didn't start screaming. I only start screaming when Wesley is involved.

And it's not like I'm a 100% legitimate professional comedian, but I'd like to think I know a thing or two about comedy. A balding joke is like a fat joke. It's the lowest common denominator. Hell, just last year in this blog I wrote about making an appointment at Hair Club for Men. I have long been aware that my hair is receding and thinning and is the only thing that gives away my age. Wesley would always make fun of my thinning hair, and then I would slap him like I was Stephanie McMahon, and that was fine. When you tell someone they are balding, or fat, or ugly, or a "faggot", or anything of that nature -- you are not telling them something that they themselves don't already know. It's not clever. It's not witty. It's you, as a basic and rancid person, watching RuPaul's Drag Race and having the misunderstanding that "mean = funny". No, it is not. Reading is fundamental because reading is an art form.

I wish I would have said that.

Instead, drunk me at 4 A.M. tagged Dallas in a post and wrote about the entire incident. I did not call him names and did not make personal attacks. I even made a joke, saying I would be sure to wear my best toupee the next time I see him. Chuck drove Jared and I to my apartment and I kissed Chuck a lot, and I texted Wesley at 3:30 A.M. because for a moment in time we were briefly stuck in the parking garage and in my drunken wisdom I thought he would the best person to know what to do.

I had to work the next day, which was a Saturday at Mall of America. Death was not an option.

By mid-afternoon, people had been writing on my post. Quinn defended me, which was really awesome. Dallas responded with his own diatribe. A girlfriend of his wrote twice that I should take the post down. I did that afternoon, because hung over me realized that I am too damn old to be doing such things, and people were fighting about grammar, which was ridiculous and a distraction. Also, Dallas has very good use of syntax and grammar. I am not above giving props where they are due.

It was March 1st, and I decided that for the next 15 days, I WOULD BE SOBER. Seriously, in the past 24 hours, I had done the trifecta of what not to do when drinking:

*Drunk Facebook someone you don't know
*Drunk text the one person you should not be texting, especially at 3:30 in the morning
*Drunk kiss someone you're gonna feel weird about the next day

I met up with my parents, Erin and Robbie at bingo and told them this shocking revelation. I stayed at my parents' house that night. Dallas's friend wrote me a very sweet Facebook message at 5:30 AM, again profusely apologizing for her friend. It was nice and she didn't have to do it, and I wanted to respond as such.

Still, doesn't it say something when you're the asshole and you apologize 0 times and your friend apologizes 3 times?

                                                 ***

Boosting my spirits was my 11th Annual Oscar Party! It was held at my parents' house because not only do I not have television but I have a teeny tiny studio apartment (that I can't afford. Shut up.)

Not pictured are my parents and grandparents. My dad won, with 21 of 24! Rude! Joey got 2nd place for the second year in a row. I got 4th with 18, which wasn't bad. The great thing is that all of my friends were supportive of my not drinking, and I didn't even feel tempted to reach for vodka at any point. I will say that when Chris Hemsworth came out, I had to donate about $10 to the swear jar.

I'll end the spoilers and say that my 15 days went 7 days. It was nothing super dramatic. Joey, Jared and I were at the 19 and Joey and Jared clapped "Relapse! Relapse! Relapse!" But I had learned a lot. First of all, socially drinking (one or two) is different than binge-drinking. And I realized that I stay up until 3 or 4 A.M. anyway, booze or no booze (and by no means am I implying that such a thing is healthy). I was going to the bars so much because I was lonely and need people to engage and inspire me, and a bar is the only place you'll really find that if you're so much of a night owl. It was important for me to find other nocturnal outlets.

I would have drank at the 19 because Chuck was there with Brent and another friend. Brent is ridiculously handsome and I can't stand it.

"You and Brent have something in common," Chuck chuckled (pun!), referencing Dollface.
"Stopppp," I said. "Dollface is mad at me! I feel bad!"

At the end of the night, Brent was ready to vamoose. "Jakey," he impossibly smiled. "I can't be your broski. I'm only half a broski. You need a full one."


I'm still not sure what that means and that is absolutely okay.

***

I was off the Sunday before St. Patty's, so I was happy to celebrate my Irish heritage.

I am like, 10% Irish. Good enough! The night before I was able to reunite with Julie and her boyfriend, and he graciously bought me a drink. T.J. was on vacation in California, so I had to flirt with an entirely different bartender.

I met a gay broski but I don't think he was from town. I flirted and mingled. I yelled at Liam and Joey. It had been over a year since I had done a Sunday Funday, but it sounds like I did it right.

Coming up, I am doing my first ever half hour comedy special! It is Sunday, April 6th at 12 PM. I'm trying to make it a brunch theme! Details are at www.dielaughingmarathon.com

Also, I have another sexy sexy sinus infection because I get sick every time the weather changes. I would move to Arizona if they weren't so weird about gay people.

Next week: Decisions about summertime! Will Jakey stay in Loring Park? Will Jared ever stop snoring?