Loring Park Episode #73: Being Accompanied By Terri

Because I am a procrastinating waste of potential, I started writing this blog, which takes place in January and February of 2020, in March. It is now the end of July. That sentence used to say June. The world, and Minneapolis, is a very different place now. I will write soon -- and I mean soon, not the Jakey Emmert "I'll be there in five minutes when I really haven't even got in the shower yet" soon -- about life in quarantine, about the murder of George Floyd on our streets, about life constantly changing as we know it. For now, dear reader, we will go to a different time. And if you want to go way back in time, Loring Park: Vol. 2 is coming soon. By soon I mean before my age has a "4" in front of it.

I renewed my library card on the same day I went to my new gym. The theme is overdoing it. I somehow had joined the Anytime Fitness in the really nice part of town, and for the first 30 days you could only work out at your home gym. Nothing inspires you to work out like knowing that you can reward yourself with a nine-dollar pre-prepared cranberry salad from Kowalski's next door when you're done.

I went to the gym about five times and I only read half of the books I checked out from the library! Every time I go to the gym, I go home crying and feel stupid about myself because I don't know what the hell I am doing. But, Jakey, if that's the case, don't you go home crying every day? Hush up.

I wanted to remember what it was to be a stand-up comedian again, so I did an open mike at Bar Luchador, which is a wrestling-themed restaurant in Dinkytown. My favorite things combined are stand-up, pro wrestling, and college boys. It reminded me of when I was first starting out! Almost every comic was in college, and I was now the older veteran, but I was still really awkward. I brought my WWE Women's Championship with me, for crying out loud. My favorite thing was that it was a Monday, so WWE Raw was actually on in the background (thankfully, not on the TV behind the comedians). Still, it took me back to my days of 2011-2014, when I performed often, and went to the open mikes that feel like marathons, and you don't feel better or worse than anybody but you're just so damn happy to be there. This elation may have also been brought along by the fact that Trevor Anderson let me sit with a Trish Stratus action figure during the show.



My friend Charlie is also a wrestling fan, and we even went to a WWE pay-per-view in December! The show itself was not great, but that was no fault of our friend, a former WWE performer who gave us tickets. More on her in a little bit. First I have to say that we went to The Depot Tavern before, and Charlie almost sent back his three dollar well Tom Collins drink because it didn't taste right. I had paid for it because I had cash so I flatly refused to allow this, and because I am a good friend I used his real name at Bar Luchador in my set and said, "I don't have a joke about this, I just want to shame him." With friends like me, who needs enemies?
_________



I was blessed with a rare Saturday off, which meant Bingo! It was Valentine's Day Weekend and I guess I blessed myself with the day off, because I took the weekend off so Charlie and I could go on our trip to Duluth. Irregardless, as Gretchen Wieners would say, I realized that Charlie and I weren't going out of town until Sunday, so Saturday meant a day of debauchery!



My friend Clive lives an hour away and I hadn't seen him in months, and he agreed to spend the day with me without any blackmail involved. He even picked me up. It's not that I have a crush on Clive, but he is attractive, and there's something to be said about being in a car with a boy when he is driving. It happened when my friend George, who I met through Chuck and Raymond, drove me from Lush to The Saloon one night after he saw me perform at New Hope Cinema Grill. It's an exciting, innocent feeling. Maybe because I always think of myself as a stunted adolescent, or because usually I'm driving myself (or Jared, for a long time).



I overprepared and got a table for five, even though I didn't even know Clive was coming for sure, and Charlie couldn't come until later, and E.J. couldn't come until later, and Steve was sitting with his work friends. It all worked out because my friend Randall, a hilarious comedian, had his own posse and we joined him at the couches.

Jacob Randall, Jacob Frey, and a local drunk

Randall had a few girls at his table, including a veteran named Courtney who was very friendly and gregarious. EJ and Charlie eventually joined. I drank enough but not too much. Steve came over which made me happy because things were complicated.

"We got a new dog," he said.

I am not allowed to go to Steve's house so I pretended I was happy but was sad about it. I will never see the dog. I wish him well.

I can wish the dog well but not Jaxon well.

This speaks volume about my lack of character.

Come back, Jakey. This is a rabbit hole.

Yes! I am forgetting about the important part, which is THAT I WON BINGO. THREE TIMES.

A month later, I would win $200 at Big Louie's Bingo and THEN LOSE MY WALLET THE NEXT DAY. I CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS.

After bingo, Clive, EJ, Charlie and I went to my apartment. Reid came home and cooked for us because he is a Double Taurus Daddy (so is EJ, too, and I don't wish to doubt his culinary prowess).


We played Trouble and kiki'd. Clive was planning on driving back home, and it took a lot of planning
to convince him not to (and I am happy to say he agreed). We then went to The Saloon, but it seemed weird to be out that early. Charlie did not join, because he was picking me up at 9 in the morning for our trip to Duluth.



"Don't drink too much," he warned. "We have a big day tomorrow."


"Obvi," I said.



I LIED.



Clive, Reid and I were there until bar close mingling with everybody! Clive is hot so I figured everyone was going to be all over him and he was gonna go home with someone of his choice, and he would have been allowed to, but he chose to return to my estate after bar close. He laid on top of me on the couch and kissed me on the lips.



"Jakey," he whispered. "I love you." And then he started snoring and I laid there awkwardly for 20 minutes because while I enjoy when men are muscular, it feels a different way when they are on top of you but not moving and you're not really sure what to do with yourself.



He was gone when I woke up.

____



Hell froze over because Charlie only had to wait for five minutes the next morning! Charlie is one of the most idiosyncratic people I have ever met, and I say that with love. Exhibit H: He drives a Gucci Fiat. It is a tiny black car with the Gucci logo on it. I can't make this stuff up.



I was exhausted, but I was okay with it because I planned on sleeping on the way to Duluth.


However, Charlie often drives back and forth to his hometown that is somewhere in a far away land called South Dakota, so the two and a half hour drive to Duluth is a hop and a skip in his mind. He insisted on playing games or having conversation the whole time, and I was on three hours of sleep and was struggling to find energy or a reason to live.



I won't begrudge Charlie for it, though, because he found an app called 21 Questions or something like that. It's similar to a game I bought from Nordstrom called Hygge, and it prompts questions that lead to deep conversations. I realized there are not many people in the world that could engage in something like that, as it requires deep vulnerability, empathy, and curiosity.  Around Hinckley, there was even one question that I wasn't comfortable answering beyond "yes" or "no" and Charlie respected that.



After what felt like being on The Oregon Trail, we landed in Duluth! First we stopped at The Electric Fetus. I used to live just a block and a half away from the Minneapolis location and never knew there was a Duluth one. I splurged and bought two Janet Jackson CD's (if I ever finish the 2019 blog, I will tell you all about that concert!), a Jonny Lang CD, the Batman soundtrack by Prince, and a T-shirt that I can't recall because it is still in the bag in my car.

We started our excursion outside the 7 West Taphouse, where a nice Duluthian informed us that we didn't need to pay for parking. I was so excited to reunite with my Aunt Jana! I hadn't seen her in person since MAY OF 2012, when I performed at Dub Linnh's during the weekend I was initially going to be in a play that never happened. Jana is originally from Georgia and I stayed with her parents when I saw the Atlanta Olympics in 1996. It was wonderful to catch up with her, her husband Ray, and my cousin Daniel, and we promised to not make it eight years before seeing each other again.



Charlie and I scrambled to get ready at the hotel, and I was still SO DAMN TIRED, but we made it to the wrestling show.



You guys, I am a horrible writer. I didn't even tell you why we were going to Duluth.



Five years earlier, Charlie and I road tripped to Milwaukee (an even longer trip!) to see Charlie's favorite childhood wrestler, Terri Runnels, at a wrestling meet-and-greet that was during a halftime session of a Milwaukee Admirals hockey game. Here's the Cliffs Notes version: Charlie made an amazing card for Terri. We took a picture even though we were technically too late for pictures. Charlie left his phone number in the card even though I told Charlie that was creepy. I know nothing, because Terri called him later that night and a genuine friendship was made ever since then. We have kept in touch with Terri through the years, but I was always too poor to go to something like WrestleCon, and when she told us she was going to be doing a show in Minnesota, we were THERE.



We got to the building later than we wanted to (shocker, I know). I was nervous and anxious. There were never two seats close to each other, because everybody seated themselves the way that Minnesotans do in church, where you're the only person in your row but then you strategically leave a coat to cover the seats next to you to signal to others, no, this seat is TAKEN, they're just not here right now. I was frustrated but it was my fault we were late so I didn't want to express that to Charlie, so I just got more nervous and agitated. We ended up standing on the upper level, where Charlie immediately received compliments of his authentic WWF Chyna T-shirt, which he had splurged $50 for on eBay. I felt salty because I had the same shirt when I was a youth, and I ruined it a few summers ago by attempting to turn it into a crop top. I shouldn't complain, because I was wearing a festive Trish Stratus T-shirt that Charlie had given me for my birthday.

My 9th grade school picture.

My anxiety quelled during the first match when Charlie's phone buzzed. "Terri just asked, 'Where are you guys'?" he said. He tapped away furiously and his face lit up. "She's gonna come find us," he said.


"What???" I asked dramatically. It was all hitting me now, that I always would joke with my brother about "my good friend Terri Runnels", that she was a real person, this was really happening, that she was going out of her way to meet two gay guys from Minneapolis -- which was a judgment, because we had been corresponding with her regularly, I mean she was a friend …



...She bopped around the brewhouse and waved at us from the bottom of the stairs, then climbed up with aplomb. In heels. I was worried for her safety. "You guys!" she yelled. "Come sit with me!" She put her hand on my back, and while I always role-played as Chyna or Trish as a kid, it's the only time I felt like a male wrestler. Terri is a legendary manager, and she had her hand on my back as we walked down the stairs (she's about 5'2" and I'm 5'7", whereas Charlie would be the hoss of our team because he is 6'2"), and for a brief moment I felt like Charlie and I were making our way to the ring as a tag team, with Terri as our manager …


The following contest, scheduled for one fall, is for the World Wrestling Federation Tag Team Championship! Introducing the challengers, accompanied by TERRI RUNNELS, at a combined weight of .... math is hard ... THE FABULOUS JAKEY & CHARLIE CHANNING





Terri sat with us while we watched the rest of the show, which included a lot of great Minneapolis talent, including Deveon Monroe, who was like nothing I had ever seen.

His character is flamboyantly gay. 20 years ago, he would be the heel. And I was nervous watching it, because I was anticipating an Adrian Adonis gimmick (or ironically, Goldust). But no, he was the face, with a male bodyguard, who does some moves that have sexuality to them, but it had nothing to do with the story of the match. It was refreshing to see, and I judged my own judgment.

There was an amazing heel named Dak Draper, the Mile High Magnum, who I thought was sexy as all hell! I didn't talk to him at a meet and greet because I was too nervous. Had I known that he has a tortoise shell cat who actually lets him hold her, I would have been more comfortable. This picture melted me. And then I later found out on Instagram that it's a rare boy tortie!

The love of my life.

Penny Ann would never, but I still love her so much and if I start talking about her I will get emotional.



Anyway, during the show, I was still really quiet. It was partly because I was still tired. Also, we were by the camera and I was nervous because I heard that they would pick up our audio. It was loud, and also still kind of surreal. I thought it best to just let Terri and Charlie talk to each other, even though she was trying her best to include me. I especially enjoyed her talk about the advice she was giving the young wrestlers. "You have to know your character inside out," she said. "You should know what your character had for breakfast this morning. When you're at a red light, what is your character thinking about being at a red light?" (Terri's favorite character of hers is Marlena, but I told her my favorite version of her was when she accompanied The Hardys) Charlie felt I was being standoffish, and I felt terrible. I was just trying to take it in, throughout my exhaustion, without ruining the show (I really was worried about the damn audio), or making a fool of myself out of my lust for Dax Draper ...



After the show, Charlie and I went to dinner at the iconic JJ Astor atop the Harborview Radisson. This meal was almost as much as the room and worth it. I felt like I was at Gina's, the fictional restaurant in Genoa City on The Young and the Restless.

It was decadent and delicious and worth every dollar, and we enjoyed the view of the beautiful city. After dinner, Terri told us to meet her in her room at a different hotel, and Charlie packed his Nintendo 64. I was finally able to let loose, and the night turned into a very slumber-party vibe. First we had S'mores outside, and I was properly judged for being very lame about them (I only like a toasted brown marshmallow!) Charlie hooked up the Nintendo 64, and we ordered pizza. These days, WWE does an annual video game in the format of a Madden game (the game is just named after the current year), but in our day, each game was different. I was raised in a PlayStation household, to my detriment when I am playing Mario Party with Joey and Lee, and had we been playing Smackdown 2: Know Your Role, I am confident I would have slayed my competition. Unfortunately for me, we were on Nintendo 64 playing No Mercy, the first wrestling game made for this console. However, it was worth it, because while Terri was not known for her in-ring competition during her illustrious career, it's the only game in which she is a playable character!!!! She was as gobsmacked as we were, but not nearly so much as the pizza delivery boy that came in our room twenty minutes later.


"Do you see that girl on the screen?" she said as her Terri delivered a Boston Crab to my Ivory. "That's me."


The pizza guy did the longest double take I have ever witnessed, left without saying too much, and then texted her a bunch of times later (she never responded).


"I've never done that move in my life," Terri said after she beat me with said Boston Crab. I was terrible!


I was grateful that I was able to finally loosen up, and Terri was even gracious enough to FaceTime with my brother. Unlike at the show, it never felt like we were hanging out with a famous person, but just a friend who was visiting town. I mean, it wasn't our town, but you know what I mean.


We planned to meet up with her in the morning and it was serendipitous. After we helped her pack, Terri went downstairs only to find that Ron Simmons took the shuttle to the airport without her!

Charlie and I offered to give her a ride to the airport without question. I had never seen the Duluth airport, and I was excited in a nerdy way about it. Unfortunately, we were in the Gucci Fiat, which makes my Honda Fit look like a monster truck. We could barely fit her luggage in the back and I squeezed into the backseat. (Terri offered to sit in the back, but we would not have that!)


Duluth has a lot of hills. Not only that, but they have STOPLIGHTS IN THE MIDDLE OF HILLS. And it was February. And the three of us and the luggage wouldn't be enough weight to help the car go up if needed (even though Terri's luggage probably weighed as much as she does). After some slight fearing for our lives, we avoided a few streets and managed to drudge up to the airport to get her on her flight safely! We bid her a fond farewell and enjoyed some sightseeing and dining in Duluth before heading back to the city.

Christmas photo

I lost my Oscar party again. We had a Moonlight moment when I thought Charlie won because I am bad at math, but it ended up being Joey! My grandparents and aunt and uncle came, and so did my high school friend Eva, who won my very first party back in 2004!!!!! She still has the record because I invited a lot of people that year and that was the year that Lord of the Rings: Return of the King won everything.

HQ Trivia ended out of nowhere. They notified fans via a snarky push notification ON VALENTINE'S DAY. It was like when I found out Steve was dating someone else on Facebook. It has since been revived and I have yet to win, in love or trivia. I recommend listening to The Ringer's excellent podcast about it.

My generous friend Angie surprised me with a ticket to see Dashboard Confessional. I went with Joey and a gal pal and felt all my feelings. YOU HAVE STOLEN MY HEARRRRRTTTTTTT.

My store closed on St. Patrick's Day. I worked through the pandemic. I had more money than I ever had in my life. Then I took a temporary cut. I blew all of the money. I should have given it to Loretta.

I am moving to a new apartment on Thursday. It is in a new neighborhood, one that I never thought would be home. It reminds me of when Loring Park began. Hopefully that means I will start writing again. But for how many years have I been saying that? I am so terribly unproductive. The new place is nowhere close to Loring Park. I have no friends in the neighborhood. I will be living alone for the first time since 2014. I am nervous. I also feel like I have not grown in a very long time, and sometimes we have to scare ourselves a little bit so we can do that.

Loring Park Episode #69: A Boy's Best Friend is His Mother

Previously on Loring Park: A five-year friendship took a break. "Moonlight" won Best Picture. Ariana Grande sang "Moonlight". Jakey didn't drink for six days.

I am happy to inform you that I survived April. It's a recurring theme of my life that things go sour in April (remember last year, the height of my passive-aggressively running away from conflict?). I had spent so much of my life identifying with what "group" I was in, or who my best friends were, and while I'm always grateful to have abundant friendships in my life, it was important for me to learn I could hang out by myself and still have a good time.

Steve went to San Francisco for five days. It was a present he bought for his mother. Do you know what I got my mother for Christmas? Lotion. On a credit card that she helps pay for. I instead got an Armistead Maupin book from the library to have my own San Francisco experience. I happened to have that Saturday and Sunday off, so I was ready to be a single girl about town.

I went to The Saloon to watch RuPaul's Drag Race. I sat by Liam and Tofu at their table (Tofu isn't his real name, but he goes by it). Everyone at their table was gracious, but I couldn't enjoy myself. I kept seeing _____ and his posse and one of them even got their raffle ticket drawn and got to play Plinko! I booked immediately at 8:01 P.M. My friend Billy asked where I was, but I told him I had already gone home to get pretty and that I might head back out later.

Carla wanted to go the '90s with a friend, and I thought it would be a great idea! Her friend had a crush on the ridiculously muscular bouncer. Well, who doesn't? The girls came over at about 10 and we pre-gamed until a little after 11. I didn't realize that Carla's friend was driving. I then forgot how horrendous driving downtown is on a Friday night, especially when a concert is just ending at the Target Center. It took forever! We finally parked somewhere on 1st Street, in front of signs that said "NO EVENT PARKING". Carla and I thought this was fine because the event was over, and the car would be fine.

The '90s had a long line, but if you paid cash you could go in the side door. About ten minutes in, I realized that Carla's friend was drunk and shouldn't be driving home. I asked Carla if she wanted to call a dry drivers service or just come back at 8 in the morning. She said she would take care of it. I then decided to stop worrying! I hadn't been to the '90s in forever, and I loved seeing the bartenders and queens that I knew during my nine month stint of being the Sunday night hostess (I miss the gig and I miss the money, but I also don't miss having to always carve out those two hours a week, especially if I had other plans. I get Sundays off a lot now, whereas before I didn't, and it was easier to go home from work, get ready and then do the '90s, and not be tempted to get too drunk or tired at brunch). The muscular bouncer, Muscle Chris, was his usual friendly self and at one point I was massaging his back without realizing it.

I told Carla I was gonna head to the Saloon -- it was 1:30, so I could have a drink there and then stay a bit later (they close at 3). The minute I got there my phone rang, and I spent my entire night standing outside on the patio. I heard yelling in the background. It turns out Carla's friend's car did did towed, it was apparently all Carla's fault, and that Carla had her keys in that car so she needed to stay at my house that night.

I am never going to get laid.

The cab stopped at The Saloon to pick me up on the way my house. So much for my Friday night. Carla's friend was still bitching and swearing at her and insisted that the cabbie drive her all the way home to Anoka. Carla was trying her best to calm her friend down, but it wasn't happening. I told her to go to the door, and I told the driver to call me when he got to Anoka.

"You're saying things you're really going to regret in the morning," he kept telling Carla's friend. She wouldn't have it.

I have been the person who has acted poorly under the influence of alcohol and said horrible things to people who were my close friends. I wanted to believe the best in people, and that she would feel bad enough in the morning. I also didn't want her in my house! What if they fought and argued all night? Carla put on some of my pajamas and we attempted sleep, but we were both too rattled to relax. Oh, and Carla's phone was dead and she has an iPhone and I have an Android, get at me, motherfuckers.

We woke up at 9 and kept calling until 11, when her friend finally answered the phone. After a morning full of coconut water and Red Bull, we were recovered enough to head to Anoka. (Also, Carla watched lame women's wrestling matches with me, so I forgave her for anything). My mom graduated from Anoka High School! Go Tornadoes!


We got to her friend's house. She said she was on the way down. Then she came outside ten minutes later. Then she enjoyed a cigarette for ten more minutes. On the way to the impound lot she apologized a few times but was also throwing Carla under the bus. I completely checked out at that point and dropped them off at the impound lot.

Oh! The freeway exit was closed! So my normally five-minute drive home from the impound lot turned to 25. I was already over this day! When I was about to leave, Carla told me that her friend didn't have any money and they had no way to pay to get the car out. I knew if I would have paid it, it would have been on my credit card, meaning Loretta would have been paying it! I finally was able to say "no" to something, and I went to LUSH to play bingo with Markie (Carla told me they later worked it out; I encouraged her to hang out with people who treated her better). I didn't win, but there were cute boys and cute dogs there. Lee was having one of his bi-weekly house parties, and I texted him saying that I wouldn't go because I drank too much at bingo. I had only had two, but I didn't want to drive to Plymouth, especially at night.

After attempting to take a nap, I looked up how much an Uber would be to Lee's house and it wouldn't be as bad as I thought. Plus, after a night of dealing with squabbling girls and their drama, I needed boys! At least when gays have drama, I can look at them.

I was still a little nervous. Lee is always a gracious host, but I didn't know who would be there, other than that I was going to be the oldest person there, and would I Uber home right away if it got awkward or would somebody drive me home ...

It was, of course, pitch black when I got there, and a boy who I have seen on Grindr for years (don't judge! My mom lives somewhat close to the U!) got to the house at the same time I did.

"Can I walk in with you?" I asked.
"Sure," he smiled.
"What's your name?" I asked.
He responded with a super broski name and I was already feeling nervous.

There were about 15 boys there, ranging in ages from 21 to ... 24? Oh, God. Brexit was in the kitchen and I have a schoolboy crush on him so of course I talked to everybody else but him because I am a lady.

The broski quickly changed into a wrestling singlet and Lee pulled me into his room.

"Debby," he said. Lee is Ruth and I am Debby.
"Debby isn't here yet," I said.
"Okay, fine," Lee said. "Jakey. Who do you have a crush on that's here?"
"What? No one," I said while trying to be coy.
"I like the wrestler," said Lee.
"I like Brexit," I said.
"He has a boyfriend," said Lee.
"Aww," I pouted.
"It's okay," Lee said. "You're still cute."

We went to the living room and Brexit's boyfriend was doing yoga poses that involved putting his head behind his leg, and I began to understand their entire relationship.

I supervised beer pong downstairs with the children. Speaking of children, Bruce showed up! Bruce stayed with us last Halloween weekend and I feel like his mother, even if he is 6'2" and ripped.

Debby eventually emerged. At 3 AM everyone took their shirts off, including Brexit, who has pectoral muscles I could live in. No one asked me to take mine off but I did anyway. (Also, I ended up talking to Brexit and he's nice and smart and more than just a sex object in my head. Good grief.)

"Ew, you're scrawny," said one of the children. I passed out on a couch. When I woke up there was a gorgeous nerd-cute boy wearing glasses asleep on the neighboring sofa. I did not get his name or penis.

I am never going to get laid.

Loring Park Episode #63: The Comedown

This episode begins with me screaming my head off in my bathroom at 2:45 AM on a Sunday / Monday. As one does.

Well I started out down a dirty road

Started out all alone
And the sun went down as I crossed the hill
And the town lit up, the world got still

I'm learning to fly, but I ain't got wings
Coming down is the hardest thing

July 7, 2016 -- in which something I worked really hard for actually PAID OFF and I felt surrounded by love -- was one of the best nights of my life. Like, top five. Without ranking them, I would also say:

*New Year's Eve 2005 at my friend Laleh's house while we watched Mariah Carey perform in Times Square

*The surprise party for my college roommate Whitey at his parents' lavish house in Chippewa Falls

*The night I won Funniest Person in the Twin Cities

*Our pilot episode, in which Jared and I found ourselves at a secret warehouse party

*Miami Beach with Erin, Loretta, Joey and Jared, a night that involved karaoke, gorgeous go-go boys, meeting handsome Canadians, and exotic food and drink

Perhaps the happiness of my birthday show was like a drug, in which the comedown was inevitable. Then it was my birthday (ten days of birthday!), and my life finally went back to normal. I had no gigs on the horizon. Work was busy but not as lucrative as I was anticipating. I could feel my mood starting to shift.

I went crazy for a while. And when I say "crazy", I do not wish to belittle anybody else's mental illness. I am not being treated for anything because I wasn't sure if I was gonna stay in my current job or not and would need new insurance (blah blah blah). I can call myself crazy. I can't call YOU crazy if you have anxiety or depression, because that's not nice or any of my business.

Loring Park Episode #61: My Pride and Joy

Pride weekend was upon us! But first it was Father's Day, and I have long given up hopes of finding a sugar daddy. I planned going to LUSH and then my grandparents' house, but I was also besotted by a horrific summer cold. My dreamy doctor put me on Prednisone and again expressed concerns about me being on it because it makes people hyper and I am already pretty "squirrely." I hope that's in my file.

Anyway, I still made it to LUSH where I enjoyed brunch with my friends Ria and Micah and friends (relatives? I'm a bad listener) visiting from Kentucky. Steve had to work at 2 but stopped and said hello for a little bit.

This was our server. TAKE ALL MY MONEY. He is a dancer/entertainer and had to work all of Pride weekend, the poor baby.

Things were a little awkward because Liam was there and kept sitting at our table and I was trying to avoid him. I was immature and cryptic before, so I'm going to put it all in the open, because I've been watching a lot of Bethenny Frankel lately and I think it's important to note when you're in the wrong and acting like an asshole.

When most of my friends went to Vegas for Jared's birthday, I was at home begging my mother to help pay my debt consolidation bill because I am broke as a joke as a result of my own poor decisions. I felt like shit about it but understood my current circumstances, and jokingly told my friends that if any of them went to the Mariah Carey concert, our friendship was over (none of them would have paid that much money to go see her, anyway. Britney? Maybe).

Anyway, while the gang was in Vegas and I was eating my feelings on my mother's couch, Liam tagged everyone at Caesar's Palace for the Mariah Carey concert and tagged ME in it with the update of "making Jakey jealous". This was not the first or last thing he had done on social media in a very short span of time to hurt my feelings, but when I look back, it was probably the most egregious. The last one was a week later when he wrote "you look old" on a Valentine's Day picture that I thought I looked good in! Maybe my skin is thicker now that I live with someone who insults my appearance at least once a week, but I was feeling sensitive that winter. So I pushed the block button. So did Joey and so did Steve. I ran into him weeks later at the bar and he cried and I told him I would be cordial to him - I wasn't gonna ice anybody out. That being said, even in February I was worrying about him trying to come to my Pride party. I wasn't going to invite him because we weren't friends anymore. But what would I do if he showed up? Would I pull a Tamra Barney and yell "LEAVE!" like he was Alexis Bellino in Season 7 of The Real Housewives of Orange County?

Now, here we were four months later, and I still hadn't tried to have a real conversation about what happened. I wanted to stay upset and non-responsive.

"I need to talk to you later," Liam said.

"Okay," I said. And I knew what this was about because he had been texting me for a month about the Pride party and I wasn't responding.

I told Ria and Micah about it and they are friends with both of us and didn't want to take sides, nor should they have. "You could always tell him it's a fire hazard and you can only invite a set number of people," Ria offered half-jokingly.

I tersely texted "You're not invited" after he implored again. At the time I thought it was a good decision, that I had true to myself and my own values and self-esteem, and that everybody would agree with me.

Um, no.

Ria, Micah, and their friends left, and while awaiting my chariot of my mother's SUV, I sauntered over to the table where Quinn and Louis were sitting. I decided to use as my greeting that I had finally told Liam he could not come to the party.

This is a picture of Megan Good and Christina Applegate from the underrated Anchorman 2. There are a surprising amount of articles about the surprising feminism of that movie. Anyway, Christina is Veronica, Ron Burgundy's estranged wife, and Megan is Linda, his sexy producer whom he is having an affair with. When the women FINALLY meet -- which I was waiting the whole movie for -- Ron encourages them to kiss or have a three-way. The women are both disgusted. "Read the room, Ron," Veronica says in my favorite part of the movie. Anyway, I couldn't find a .gif of it, but this was my same mistake. I did not read the room, and Quinn promptly yet politely ripped me an entirely new asshole.

"I am purposely finding something else to do that afternoon because of how you are acting," he said. And I want to re-iterate that it was ... Nice.  He didn't raise his voice, he didn't call me names, but rather he laid out his case in a way that I think was uncomfortable but important for him to do.

My mother picked me up, and I was a horrific Father's Day guest as I took a nap the whole time. This summer cold was kicking my butt. There was no way I could go to the '90s that night for Mystery Porn Theater, but I really didn't want to miss out on the money. It's not an exorbitant amount of money, but it's cash in my hand that I get every week, and that's a nice feeling, especially if I'm going to go home right away and not spend it on tipping drag queens upstairs and going to The Saloon afterward.

"How much do they pay you?" Loretta asked. "You sound TERRIBLE. I'll pay you if you stay home."

I texted Reid at 8 P.M. (the show is at 10) and he graciously agreed to pinch-hit for me, and the staff at the '90s was very accommodating about letting the door person know. It pays to know people. I told my mom about the party, about the plans, about Liam, about Quinn and my asshole.

"Well, you couldn't go because of your own life choices," she said. "Liam isn't the one who racked up a bunch of credit card debt. If you felt like shit about yourself, that's not his fault."
"It wasn't helping," I pouted. "He was kicking me when I was down."
"But does he know that?" she asked.
"He knows I'm pissed," I said.
"But does he know why you're pissed?" she asked, and the music at the end of every Full House episode started playing in my head.

"I told him from the get-go," I said. "I have the texts."
"Here's the thing," she finally offered. "This isn't like it's your birthday party or a dinner party. It's Pride. It should be for everyone." My mother, a 59-year-old heterosexual, was able to understand that, and I wasn't.

Over the next few days, I thought about Liamgate right before I went to bed and right when I woke up. It was consuming too much energy, and I realized the adage that the right thing to do and the hard thing to do are usually the same. When you choose to forgive, it's not so much about what it does for the other person, but what it does for you. Conversely, I have been in that position where all you want is forgiveness and reconciliation. I didn't get it. It's been over 450 days, not that I'm counting. I  texted Liam like a grown-up and invited him to the party.

Loring Park Episode #49: The Ballad of Auntie Debby

January was a crazy month, children! A month of good-byes, hellos, public promiscuity, complicated feelings, and new friendships. I am even using an Oxford comma and I usually don't enjoy them. It was that eventful.

                  ***

Our friend Chris, who had a code name on here once but I forget what it was, moved to West Hollywood after leaving his local corporate gig. A festive going-away party was held in Golden Valley. I felt blessed to be around so many people I enjoy, and not just because they had free booze, pizza, and a 24-pack of 5-hour energy drinks. It's like they knew I was coming! I arrived with Joey and Jared. We played flip cup and I was a diva and played with vodka. Among the other guests was Victor, whose boyfriend's sister is marrying my uncle in June (small world!), and Steve. Steve is 21 and flirts with me but he flirts with everybody and I never know how to feel about it. I've decided to stop thinking about it and letting it be.

My good friend Peter visited from Washington D.C. for a week! He treated me to Masu Sushi on my lunch break. We were going to go Dutch but Wells Fargo withdrew money for a loan payment that I thought my mom was making on my behalf and I literally had no dollars to my name. Peter covered the lunch but I felt terrible and ashamed and embarrassed. He is 22! And in college! And works three jobs! Peter always inspires me because he has hustle like no other. I am beginning to wonder if part of the reason I am such a financial/emotional mess is because hustle might be innate. I am a three-time college dropout. I haven't been to the gym since October or an open mike since December. If I ever achieve hustle, it will be because I watched a lot of Oprah on YouTube or got really desperate. I was not born with hustle.

Meanwhile, at The Saloon (of course!), I was at T.J.'s bar pretending that he isn't moving to Taiwan. Perhaps when he does it will finally end the chapter of my bar star career. That is why I cried so much when he told me he was leaving. I couldn't stay Peter Pan forever, and not just because I am getting bald and poochy (fuck you, aging!).

I was talking with Joey and Jared when a tall man built like a former linebacker came up to us. "Uh, sorry," he said. "Are you Jakey Emmert?"
"Who's asking?" I inquired, because I don't know if someone is friends with the broski or if they're friends with Celebrity and want to beat me up.
"Uh ... we're friends on Facebook," he said sheepishly. "I just moved to Minneapolis. I love your blog."

His name was Jonathan. Jared rolled his eyes so hard they almost fell out of his head. I, of course, loved it! Hashtag fauxmas. We had a lovely conversation about his days in North Dakota but then he had to leave because one of his friends was super wasted and it was time for damage control. Been there.

"We don't even have the same taste in men," Jonathan lamented. "But then when he gets drunk he always decides to go forever who I like."
"What does he like? Broskis?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said. "And I like ..."
"Twinks?" I said with evident disdain because I am an insecure bitch.

He corraled his friends and the drunk one apologized for being drunk but I told him he was fine. I've had to deal with Jared passing out in public, for God's sake.

"I gotta go," Jonathan said. "But .... fuck it."
Then he grabbed me and we made out in front of everyone. Danny saw it from his bar (which is behind the kitchen, behind TJ's bar, and there's a window, if that makes any sense to those not familiar with the Saloon layout).

Then a dude who I hear likes the boys young -- like let's get the Feds involved young (allegedly!) -- made out with me, too! I felt flattered and skeevy because I always think I look super old.

"All I can say is Auntie Debby!" Jared wrote on Facebook. Auntie Debby is my alias when I get too drunk. She is recently divorced, hates her job, and has the false confidence and sexual prowess of a much younger and prettier woman.
"Stop making out with everyone!" Danny wrote on my Facebook.

We moseyed over to Danny's bar. I should now point out that it was a full moon this evening, and it was in Cancer.

"How many people are you going to kiss tonight?" Danny asked.
"I might as well make out with a third person and score the hat trick," I said. At this very moment, Steve walked by. I looked at him with lust and he looked at me like I had known he had an upcoming day off and asked if he could help me move into a new apartment that day.

"Ugh," he said. "Fine."

Then I made out with Steve. Surprisingly, I did not get strep or mono from any of this.

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 #43: 28 Daze

I never have a sexy Fourth of July. I worked this year.

It's okay. I got all of Pride weekend off, then I worked for nine days, then I had my birthday weekend off (which I'll get to), then I worked for nine days again. I was like a flight attendant, but in retail. It was exhausting but also rewarding, the latter of which as a reminder that if I am going to go to all these events and be at the bar all the time, I have to have money to pay for all of that.

We did go out on the Fourth, though. After work, I stopped at The Saloon (shocking!) with Joey. We met with Charlie and his roommate. Esquire, Doug, and Chuck were there. I felt patriotic and happy.

Three drinks later, I was feeling less happy.

Last year on the Fourth of July, I went to Kevin's house. And that's not necessarily even a good memory, because we ended up driving with his mom and stepdad to try to watch the fireworks and it was an epic fail, and I left without saying good-bye to him because he took a phone call from his friend and talked for over half an hour (and subsequently texted me that I was a drama queen when I got home), but it was still my only Fourth of July memory that involves a boy. Also, I was working at House of Comedy that week and felt like a real comedian.

A year had passed and I was still pining about boys that were not there (by my fourth drink, I looked at the door and thought of a certain person walking through the door and how I would feel if he did -- would my heart jump again? Probably), and so far this year as a comedian I have made less than $100, and even that was from gigs that I got literally the day of and could not have done had I been working at my real job that weekend.

So I was sad.

The next day, Charlie freaked out via text message that I was mad at him because he had been flirting with Esquire. This made me feel terrible! I adore Charlie. He, Becks, his roommate and a gal pal even saw me do comedy on a Monday night at Tryg's! We were doing a roast for a gay comedian who is younger and skinnier than me but was moving back to Seattle.

"Oh my god," I wrote. "I was sad about a lot of things, but not that. I can't call dibs on every boy at the bar. You can make out with anybody you want.

Unless it's Kevin (who you can't stand)

Or Wesley (which would never happen)

Or Joey (because he's like my kid and that's weird)

Or Celebrity

Or Channing Tatum

Or Football Guy, because I have a crush on him this week."

"Football Guy wants my ass," Charlie said.

Then I quickly changed tune.

"DOOO ITTTTTT," I wrote. "And tell me all about it."
"You want me to vicariously fuck him?" Charlie asked. "I don't really like him that much."
"If you were a true friend, you would," I insisted. Not only is Football Guy totally out of my league, but I have the sex life of a nun. I am like the awful girlfriend you had in tenth grade, where I am jealous all the time but when you get me alone I only want to cuddle.

And we'll get to that ... right now.

Loring Park Episode #31: Knowing the Score

Previously on Loring Park:

Holy crap, people. This episode starts at the beginning of June. We basically have to go over the entire summer in just two or three episodes. There will be drama, tears, and laughter.

It is difficult to write about things that happened so long ago. Not just from a memory standpoint, but because a lot can change in the span of a season. One of the reasons that this episode is so delayed is that much of my summer was spent working on a Fringe Festival play, which transformed from a one-man show into an ensemble comedy that I was writing, directing, and starring in.

But the other reason -- the immature, shameful reason -- is knowing that, at least for part of this episode, I'm a real piece of shit.

Here we go.

Loring Park Episode #27: Tears of a Class Clown

Previously on Loring Park: Jakey cried at The Saloon, and was revisited by a blast from the past.

I cry a lot in this episode. But it was never in front of everyone. I am maturing that way.

I did not cry on that first Saturday. My night began by telling jokes at Johnny Tequila's Drinking Taco. It was the night before Easter, so the crowd was sparse, and I was exhausted having worked a 50-hour week (which I realize that some people do all year around). Mommy was tired, y'all. After only one vodka tonic, my brain cells were shot, and my routine did not go very well. I told all four audience members that I was Bette Midler in The Rose, and nobody knew what I was talking about.

Wesley was adamant about going to LUSH, so he agreed to pick me up downtown. I usually chastise him for wearing the same stupid hoodie, but tonight he cleaned up good and wore a white Banana Republic button-down. I was proud, and somewhere a gay angel got his wings. Earlier that night, Liam texted me asking if he could sleep over, and while I wasn't thrilled about it, I was happy that he was texting at 7:30 P.M. and not at 1:30 A.M. I said it was probable, but that I wasn't sure if we would even be at The Saloon or not.

When we got to LUSH, I panicked and realized I had lost my Listerine strips! I even speculated bringing a back-up pack in case this would happen! "Oh, no!" I cried. I have OCD about Listerine strips. My greatest fears are tarantulas and halitosis.  "If I give you $10, can we go to the gas station to get Listerine strips?"
"What?!" Wesley asked. "Now? We just got here."
"I can't have bad breath!" I cried.
"Oh my god," Wesley cried. "You are worse than a chick."

He unlocked the car, and my Listerine strips were on the passenger seat! Hooray! Crisis averted!

"Do you have everything else?" he asked. "You probably need your ID. You look 12."

Not really, but it was a moment.

LUSH wasn't very crowded. We didn't know anybody there except Jason Matheson from FM 107, and by "know" I don't mean in a personal way. I texted my mother of his presence, and she begged me to say something (I still think my mom wakes up and hopes for a few seconds that I grew up to be Jason Matheson before the ugliness of reality sets in), but he was off the clock and I felt it would be rude. Wesley told me of his recent trip to California, but other than that, we sat in mutual boredom. He asked the staff why the place was so dead, and he explained that everyone was at the Eagle. I texted Joey and Jared, and they were there, too! Was The Eagle having a big event that night? Wesley and I wanted to go to The Saloon, but we agreed that we could stop at The Eagle to see what all the fuss was about.

Here's a primer about The Eagle for those of you not familiar with the Minneapolis gay club scene: There is something for everyone, truly. The Saloon, typically, is a younger, trendier, sexy crowd. Jetset is a trendy, sexy, older and more professional crowd (any time I introduce myself to anyone there, I get my own name corrected. "Jake," the Jetsetters say, with firm handshakes). The Gay '90s is hardly considered a gay club anymore. LUSH, the winner of Best Gay Bar in the City Pages last year, is a crapshoot, but on Wednesdays it attracts the same crowd that The Saloon does.

The Eagle, on the other hand, is for those who would not necessarily feel comfortable at The Saloon. The Eagle has bear nights and leather nights. The event we were attending, complete with $7 cover, was called "Bear-a-cudda." I paid the cover since I could already tell that this wasn't a great idea.

We were on our way in when I realized my phone was in the car, but we couldn't find it. "Call my phone," I demanded of Wesley. He did so, but it was stuck under the back seat.

"I'll get it," he declared, and I stood with the back passenger door open while he crouched below the passenger seat. Not only did this look lewd from a certain angle, but I also blushed when I realized I was totally checking out his butt. "I have a hockey booty," a forlorn customer struggling to buy a suit told me a few months ago. I get it now.

Wesley and I walked in, and Joey and Jared were right by the exit. I hugged them and introduced them to Wesley, and soon ran into my fellow comedian friend (and cub!), Matt Iverson! I didn't even notice the hairy, overweight men walking around in their underwear. It's The Eagle. You go there and you expect that. It's part of the scenery, just as The Saloon has the go-go boys and The Gay '90s has drunk 18-year-old girls who are still in love with their hopelessly gay twink pals.

Wesley was not one to hear of my explanation that the gay subculture offers something for everyone, and the further we walked into the bar, the more, erm -- Eaglish -- it got. The men somehow got hairier, fatter, and more scantily clad.

"OH MY GOD," Wesley couldn't stop yelling. "This is not for me. We need to go." But I had paid $14! And it was too crowded for us to turn on our heels and leave. I was beginning to grow worried not just for Wesley's state of mind, but also for his physical safety. His volume was getting louder, and the last thing I wanted was for a muscle bear to pulverize him into the ground (Wesley has an athletic build, and don't think I haven't noticed it, but I didn't want to take any chances). However, the only thing that was about to be pulverized was my ego.

"IS THERE ANYONE ATTRACTIVE HERE?!" Wesley yelled a bit too loud.
"Wesley," I said. "I'm right here."
Then he busted out laughing, in a genuine, boisterous manner that was bigger than any reaction I had at Johnny Tequila's earlier. "That's the funniest thing you've said all night!!" he sputtered.

We went downstairs, where Wesley only grew more traumatized. I bid a quick and regretful good-bye to Joey and Jared, and we were on our way to The Saloon. I convinced Wesley to not start swearing until we got in the car, because I didn't want to get beat up.

"I'm sorry I brought you there!" I cried. He was in no mood to hear my speech about subcultures and how everyone should be celebrated. Liam was texting me and I told him I was en route to The Saloon. I could tell from his texts that he was already wasted. Oh, yay.

Wesley parked the car and I meant to take one Listerine strip, but the wind blew them up and I accidentally took all of them at once! I failed to avoid a Listerine Strip crisis!

"Wesley!" I whined. "Do you have any gum? Or mints?"
"No," he scoffed.
"Oh no! What am I gonna do?!" I was in panic attack mode.

We tried to look for Liam when we got to The Saloon, but I was also nervous because Football Guy was there! The 6'4" sex god whom I once told was a unicorn! "Wesley!" I cried. "One of my biggest crushes is here! I'm so nervous! I'll point him out when he walks by!" He did, and he was with two fifths of the Pretty Girl Mafia, but he was with two of the five that rarely and never talk to me, so my presence was not acknowledged. Also, I had awful breath! I ended up sipping Rumpelmintz like it was water. I finally saw a boy who gave me gum (his name is Tommy and I met him after the Kathy Griffin show in December), and I will never forget it.

"Well," Wesley said as Football Guy and his heaving pectoral muscles walked by. "I'm glad one of us thinks he's cute." Fascinating! Liam showed up and we discussed classical architecture. Meanwhile, Wesley was busy texting Quinn, who was out of town. While Liam was blathering in my ear, I saw a moment happen on Wesley's face. It was a genuinely affected smile, and a look that I had never seen him give me. I realized that I would be the boy that makes him laugh, but never the one that made him smile. It was a feeling that would recur over the week.

I wasn't crying yet.

We were back at T.J.'s bar in attempts to mingle and Liam went to Froot Loop. Wesley was still texting Quinn and I acquainted myself with Cagefighter for a while. As I was finishing my drink, Liam came back and tried to look at Wesley's cell phone, which didn't go over well.

"You better try to keep him," Liam said. "A boy like that isn't gonna be single very long."
"Yes, I know," I said. Liam sauntered off and Wesley glared as he left.
"What were you guys talking about?" Wesley asked.
"Um .... Easter," I said.

Cagefighter was getting hit on by a group of Asian twinks, and then RYAN ROBERTSON showed up! Liam and I instantly turned into teenage girls.
"Hi, Ryan," we both sang.
"I feel like you are a pop singer and every time we see you, we turn into the Ryanettes," I complained. "Are you going to brunch tomorrow?"
"Nah," Ryan said in his Lochte-like cadence. "My mom texted me and asked if I would come for lunch."
"Well, that's nice!" I agreed. "Cagefighter! Are you going to brunch tomorrow?"
"Yeah, probably at noon," he said. Hooray! Despite my emotional turmoil, I could look forward to brunch.

Wesley left, and Liam and I paid $20 for a petty-cab (which is when a cute boy in a bicycle drives you to your apartment).
"So, Wesley likes Quinn," I yelled, because I was drunk and rancid. "And remember when Kevin liked Quinn, too? And I'm fine with that. Quinn is cute, and he's a nice person! I'm not gonna hate him just because my crushes always like him! But I will say that my fake TV show is no longer called Loring Park. It is called Everybody Loves Quinn. On CBS at 8 PM on Wednesdays."

Loring Park Episode #25: The Past Will Never Stay There

Previously on Loring Park: Jakey encountered perfection and of course had to make it awkward.  An emotional affair ostensibly ended while a real-life relationship finally hit the skids.

I celebrated the end of February with a mini-vacation to Winona State University. I was there to visit my friend Nick, who is from Germany. We met a few years ago in Las Vegas at a convention for forum members on WrestlingObserver.com. It is as nerdy as it sounds. I am far too old to be cavorting with the college kids, but life is short.

This is the horrible picture he used on Facebook to announce my arrival.
 

This is the third time I have visited Winona, and I always go through an existential crisis about my status of three-time college dropout and my usually forgotten Mommy Issues. But other than that, it was a hell of a time. We did all the things college kids should do: Attended a crappy basement party, ate Little Caesar's at 3 in the morning, and made a bro fort with Nick's Swedish friend Jesper. I felt very international. Also, Nick doesn't live in the dorms anymore, and that was great because it meant I was able to take a dump and a shower (I feel a strange need to clarify that these were not done at the same time). If I ever write a memoir, Chapter 9 will be called Vodka Shits in Winona.

I didn't plan my weekend very well, because that Sunday was my 11th Annual Oscar Party! Every year, I host an Oscar party, and even in years when I wasn't living in Minnesota, I still conducted a pool amongst friends. But because I had spent too long at the casino (I was all id that weekend, really), I was late for my own party! Mercifully, Erin and my father took care of the food, and my uncle Ander and his girlfriend were already there! I lived with Ander for a year, and in some aspects we could not be more different. I refer to him as a "hyperVirgo" -- always organized, always on time, always on it. My friend Sten is a Virgo, too, and he does not believe in rounding numbers up. "I will see you in seven minutes," he will say if he is on the way over. Because he has timed it, you see. He knows these things.

I couldn't relax until the show started, but I was pleasantly surprised by the turnout! My friend Julie, her boyfriend and their co-worker came, as well as people who I only see at Oscar time. Sina was supposed to be the Vanna White, tallying the statistics of the betting, but halfway through she transferred her duties to Chuck. Joey arrived and made it a close one, but in the end he lost to Sten by one category. (I finished fourth out of 13, which I will find respectable, and I was the only one to get Documentary Short and Art Direction, SO THERE).

It was a glorious night, and I felt happy to have the wonderful friends and family that I do. My mother wasn't there because she was in Costa Rica. I am proud of her in a way. I know we have had her ups and downs, but I also feel that, once she turned 50, she finally started to live for herself.

It was the last night I would see Chuck, at least for a while. We got in a spat, and at first it was ridiculously junior high -- he got mad that I reneged on going out because I had to work late, and when I offered to go to lunch on Monday, he scoffed that I would just stand him up again (and maybe he was right, because I ended up switching work shifts that week anyway) -- but I have become closer to Peter (not that way) since their break-up, and I think he blames me for certain transgressions that have happened since then. I have many positive memories of our friendship last year, and I will choose to focus on those. He is a caring and intelligent person, and I wish him all the best. I'm not going to run away from him when I see him at the club, unless he tries to make out with Star Quarterback just to get a rise out of me. I just read on Twitter that a Cancer knows exactly what to do and say to get under someone's skin. We are both born under this sign, and I will just say that no one who deletes me on Facebook and then wants to smooth things over is going to be on my Christmas card list.

***

I ventured to LUSH a week later, and was excited to catch up with Quinn and Joey. They're moving to my street in May! Oh, HOORAY! I was also happy to talk to Dennis, an acquaintance of mine whom I feel is on his own show. Like, we're both on Bravo, but his is the more grown-up show. Like, I am a ridiculous trashy show like Shahs of Sunset and he is Million Dollar Decorators. Dennis is very well-educated and is on a different socioeconomic level than I am, but he is never a snob about it, and we were discussing reality shows when his buff, muscled friend of mixed race joined our conversation. Then I found out the buff friend was a drag queen. Then the buff drag queen was spilling the tea (to borrow a phrase) about local drag queens, and it was a combination of two of my favorite things: Biceps and gossip! I was surprisingly quiet for most of the conversation, as I wanted to fit in. But finally, the Grey Goose seeped out of my pores and I had to say something.

"There are so many muscle bro-skis here tonight," I chimed in.
"Yeah," Buff Drag Queen said. "And they're all bottoms."
"How can you tell?!" I asked, because I have the sexual naivete of a home-schooled evangelical tenth-grader. Then Dennis and the Buff Drag Queen lamented about how everyone thinks they are bottoms but they are not, and I knew this was a conversation I would never again be having.

Dennis and I both love the Real Housewives franchise, and he fancies himself as a Gone with the wind Fabulous Kenya Moore. We both agreed that I am Mama Elsa. "Mama Elsa is very weird," Dennis said, "But everyone loves her anyway." I will accept that.