Previously on Loring Park: Jakey and his production team (how douchey of a comment is that?) hoped for good results in the Fringe Festival Lottery. Chuck and Peter broke up just in time for Valentine's Day.
This episode begins at the Brave New Workshop, where I attended the Fringe Festival Lottery with Tim Wick and Jena Young of Fearless Comedy Productions. Their production company has agreed to front the production costs of a prospective one-man show in the Fringe Festival, but first you have to get through the lottery, in which your show number is written on a ping-pong ball and you cross your fingers for half an hour. I wanted to bring them Thank You cards but procrastinated. The whole thing was awkward! They were taking such a chance on me, and yet you have to leave it up to fate, and I didn't necessarily want to get my hopes up, because a lottery is just based on luck, and maybe I'm not supposed to try to break into show business at age 26 ....
Fifteen minutes into the drawing, the man with the computer speaks up. "#159: Libra Moon Productions, "They Shoot 25-Year-Old Gay Men, Don't They?"
It's very exciting, y'all. I even got shameless publicity out of it! I feel really inspired and motivated to put on a great show, which means that I have almost started writing it. I have had a wonderful time talking to gay men at the bars about the concept of aging. Even Muscle Mary has been nice with his time! I misjudged Muscle Mary and completely forgive him for the time he rolled his eyes at me at Lawrence's post-Pride party. I don't hold grudges, I just remember things.
Observations on pop culture, gays of our lives, and just trying to make it ...
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Monday, February 4, 2013
Loring Park Episode #23: Silver Springs, Pretty Girls, and Tarot Cards
Previously on Loring Park: Heartbreak!
My adventures started by going to LUSH with a bunch of straights! I went to high school with Cory and Charlie and we used to do a radio show together. I quit doing it, but they revamped it and have done a great job with it, and I shall shamelessly plug for it here (no, it was not called Macho Men Radio when I was co-hosting, but a boy can dream). Cory and Charlie love LUSH because they know one of the bartenders, who happens to be nominated for a local bartender award (which you can vote for here. This link also made me realize that I need to go to other bars besides LUSH and The Saloon, because Minneapolis really does have a lot to offer, gosh darn it. I voted for Chris and T.J., my imaginary husband).
It was a Friday night, and that is when LUSH does their girl night, so I put a minimal effort in my appearance (not much foundation and a long-sleeve Ralph Lauren shirt from the kids' department). It turned out there were cute boys there, too, dammit! Cory and Charlie are longtime Green Bay Packers fans and lost a bet, so they were in Vikings jerseys, and maybe that's why they decided to go to LUSH. If they're going to be Vikings fans for a night, they might as well pretend to be gay.
There were three other men in our group, and one of them was a very tall and boisterous man named Tony who graciously bought me shots all night. I had enough to dance. The lesbians were dancing like middle-schoolers, creating a circle and waiting for somebody to dance in the middle. Charlie (who, it should now be noted, is very much a bro-ski jock) had enough liquid courage to do one-armed push-ups, and then he picked me up by the waist and we did what I can only describe as the "slutty Channing Tatum move", in which my legs were around him with my chest at his face and he was jokingly thrusting. It was all in good fun, until a gay in a red shirt decided that Charlie was lunch.
And the poor boy. He just didn't get it. Red Shirt started talking to Charlie, and I decided to go mingle. I admit, too, that I was being selfish and immature and decided that I was going to let this bar think Charlie was my hot boyfriend for the evening. He was straight! I was never going to see these people ever again! This was also why I was fine with Charlie talking to Red Shirt, because I definitely didn't want these people to think that I was one of those jealous, clingy, always-on-him type of boyfriends (and these boys do exist. I saw one of them last night).
Charlie is friendly, outgoing, and only sees the good in people. I don't even think he understood that Red Shirt was hitting on him. "I'm with Jakey," Charlie kept saying. "This is Jakey. Talk to Jakey." "I don't want to talk to Jakey," said Red Shirt. "I want to talk to you." Then Red Shirt took off his red shirt to reveal a hot gym body. Then Charlie started flexing. Then Red Shirt started flexing. Charlie, I was trying to communicate telepathically. He's totally doing a mating call!
While this all went on, I had another screwdriver and was that girl at the bar who was crying about a break-up. And I didn't even have a break-up! I had a doomed emotional affair that was doomed from the start, and this shit started in May! Tony was a very good listener and encouraged me to not settle.
Well, the romance ended, and Charlie and Red Shirt got mad at each other. Then Charlie got into defensive fake boyfriend mode. "If he gives you shit, I'll fuck him up," he kept saying. Cory could barely stand. It was time to go. I was able to calm Charlie down, and then right when his mood alleviated, Cory acted like a Bravo housewife and stirred shit again. "There's the guy in the red shirt again!" he yelled. "GOD DAMMIT!" I yelled.
Cory and his bros went home, and Tony, Charlie and I got a town car to the 19. Tony wanted to sit in the front, but he decided this after Charlie and I were in the back seat. Charlie still sat in the middle seat. "I'm serious," he said. "Anyone gives you shit, I'll take 'em down. No one fucks with you." Tony and the driver showed each other pictures of their children.
We got to the 19 and I put "Silver Springs" in the jukebox. I HAVE BEEN OBSESSED WITH SILVER SPRINGS. My father bought me Stevie Nicks' Greatest Hits for Christmas but I haven't even opened it. I have loved "Silver Springs" ever since a lady sang it at Big Louie's karaoke in November, and I have been especially obsessed with it since this latest emotional debacle.
Charlie, Tony, and I mingled. People still thought Charlie was my boyfriend, but I was mature enough to admit his heterosexuality. It's the 19. We met a nice man, and Tony insisted that I go on a date with him. He was getting his Ph.D and will probably rule the world in ten years, but I wasn't attracted to him in any physical sense. God knows I am not Channing Tatum, but there has to be an initial spark there, even if I don't put out. Seriously, the only time I get a 69 is at bingo. (Ba da bum bum CHING.) A nice man drove us to my apartment where the town car picked up the boys. As sad as I was, and as drunk as Charlie was (I kept feeding him Listerine strips), I realized his prototype is not what I am necessarily holding out for, but what I will always hope for. Not Charlie himself (he is happily in a relationship and is, in the words of my father, "a thousand percent heterosexual"), but a boy who will do one-armed push-ups at the bar and will sit in the middle seat next to you in the town car even though he could have slid over to the passenger side.
My adventures started by going to LUSH with a bunch of straights! I went to high school with Cory and Charlie and we used to do a radio show together. I quit doing it, but they revamped it and have done a great job with it, and I shall shamelessly plug for it here (no, it was not called Macho Men Radio when I was co-hosting, but a boy can dream). Cory and Charlie love LUSH because they know one of the bartenders, who happens to be nominated for a local bartender award (which you can vote for here. This link also made me realize that I need to go to other bars besides LUSH and The Saloon, because Minneapolis really does have a lot to offer, gosh darn it. I voted for Chris and T.J., my imaginary husband).
It was a Friday night, and that is when LUSH does their girl night, so I put a minimal effort in my appearance (not much foundation and a long-sleeve Ralph Lauren shirt from the kids' department). It turned out there were cute boys there, too, dammit! Cory and Charlie are longtime Green Bay Packers fans and lost a bet, so they were in Vikings jerseys, and maybe that's why they decided to go to LUSH. If they're going to be Vikings fans for a night, they might as well pretend to be gay.
There were three other men in our group, and one of them was a very tall and boisterous man named Tony who graciously bought me shots all night. I had enough to dance. The lesbians were dancing like middle-schoolers, creating a circle and waiting for somebody to dance in the middle. Charlie (who, it should now be noted, is very much a bro-ski jock) had enough liquid courage to do one-armed push-ups, and then he picked me up by the waist and we did what I can only describe as the "slutty Channing Tatum move", in which my legs were around him with my chest at his face and he was jokingly thrusting. It was all in good fun, until a gay in a red shirt decided that Charlie was lunch.
And the poor boy. He just didn't get it. Red Shirt started talking to Charlie, and I decided to go mingle. I admit, too, that I was being selfish and immature and decided that I was going to let this bar think Charlie was my hot boyfriend for the evening. He was straight! I was never going to see these people ever again! This was also why I was fine with Charlie talking to Red Shirt, because I definitely didn't want these people to think that I was one of those jealous, clingy, always-on-him type of boyfriends (and these boys do exist. I saw one of them last night).
Charlie is friendly, outgoing, and only sees the good in people. I don't even think he understood that Red Shirt was hitting on him. "I'm with Jakey," Charlie kept saying. "This is Jakey. Talk to Jakey." "I don't want to talk to Jakey," said Red Shirt. "I want to talk to you." Then Red Shirt took off his red shirt to reveal a hot gym body. Then Charlie started flexing. Then Red Shirt started flexing. Charlie, I was trying to communicate telepathically. He's totally doing a mating call!
While this all went on, I had another screwdriver and was that girl at the bar who was crying about a break-up. And I didn't even have a break-up! I had a doomed emotional affair that was doomed from the start, and this shit started in May! Tony was a very good listener and encouraged me to not settle.
Well, the romance ended, and Charlie and Red Shirt got mad at each other. Then Charlie got into defensive fake boyfriend mode. "If he gives you shit, I'll fuck him up," he kept saying. Cory could barely stand. It was time to go. I was able to calm Charlie down, and then right when his mood alleviated, Cory acted like a Bravo housewife and stirred shit again. "There's the guy in the red shirt again!" he yelled. "GOD DAMMIT!" I yelled.
Cory and his bros went home, and Tony, Charlie and I got a town car to the 19. Tony wanted to sit in the front, but he decided this after Charlie and I were in the back seat. Charlie still sat in the middle seat. "I'm serious," he said. "Anyone gives you shit, I'll take 'em down. No one fucks with you." Tony and the driver showed each other pictures of their children.
We got to the 19 and I put "Silver Springs" in the jukebox. I HAVE BEEN OBSESSED WITH SILVER SPRINGS. My father bought me Stevie Nicks' Greatest Hits for Christmas but I haven't even opened it. I have loved "Silver Springs" ever since a lady sang it at Big Louie's karaoke in November, and I have been especially obsessed with it since this latest emotional debacle.
Charlie, Tony, and I mingled. People still thought Charlie was my boyfriend, but I was mature enough to admit his heterosexuality. It's the 19. We met a nice man, and Tony insisted that I go on a date with him. He was getting his Ph.D and will probably rule the world in ten years, but I wasn't attracted to him in any physical sense. God knows I am not Channing Tatum, but there has to be an initial spark there, even if I don't put out. Seriously, the only time I get a 69 is at bingo. (Ba da bum bum CHING.) A nice man drove us to my apartment where the town car picked up the boys. As sad as I was, and as drunk as Charlie was (I kept feeding him Listerine strips), I realized his prototype is not what I am necessarily holding out for, but what I will always hope for. Not Charlie himself (he is happily in a relationship and is, in the words of my father, "a thousand percent heterosexual"), but a boy who will do one-armed push-ups at the bar and will sit in the middle seat next to you in the town car even though he could have slid over to the passenger side.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Loring Park Episode #22: I Knew You Were Trouble When You Walked In
If I learned anything from the One Direction fanfic I obsessively read last weekend, it's that you need to tell this Kevin guy how you feel NOW. There's never going to be a good time! If you don't, he may run off to London on a photography internship like Harry and you're all alone and depressed in your flat because you just assumed he didn't want to be with you! And then Niall will be forced to come over and drag you out of your pile of Lean Pocket wrappers.-The irrepressible James, who better be in the same city as me by the time we're 40
I was going to tell him. Life got in the way.
Yes, boys and girls, we are naming this episode after a Taylor Swift song. If you want to decide that now is when Loring Park jumped the shark, so be it. This might be the episode in which I win an Emmy, but I don't want to jinx it.
I wasn't going to go to the club on the night that started this downward spiral. I was attending The Reapies, which is the Minnesota stand-up version of the Emmys. Even though I wasn't nominated, I knew it would be fun to go and see all my comedian acquaintances, and my friend Sina agreed to be my date for the evening. I bought a Jag bomb for my friend Josh Florhaug, who was celebrating his birthday. The show was to start at 8, but because of the Vikings/Packers game, it didn't start until ten. I almost didn't make it because I cut my chin while shaving and it refused to clot. You can see just a speck of it in this picture, taken by the talented Ricky Noren:
The first half of the show was delightful, and I really do feel I'm on some weird wavelength between open-miker and professional. It made me want to work harder and do more, and I felt lucky to be in a room with so many talented people. But I was not lucky enough to have a seat, and Sina left at around 11, and at around the midnight halftime mark, I was debating if I wanted to leave or not. And by leaving, I was preparing to go to bed, not go to The Saloon. There were many reasons to choose bed over clubbing. I had seen on Facebook that Liam had been at LUSH since 8 PM, and therefore I knew that he would be two sheets to the wind by the time I arrived anywhere. I was tired! My feet hurt! I had to work the next day! I had also been invited out by a nice boy from Iowa whom I met on a previous Sunday Funday, and I explained to him that I didn't know if I was doing anything after the Reapies.
"R u out?" Joey texted.
"Comedy thing is at halftime," I wrote back.
"Kevin is here fyi," Joey wrote. "And he needs a place to stay."
Kevin could not have stayed at my place, because my apartment was a disaster (as is often the case). Besides, I did not want to be that girl who jumps at the chance to run into the boy she likes. It is not organic. It is manipulating the situation. I walked upstairs and talked to the hilarious Carolyn Blomberg. I regret to mention that, much like I did with my karaoke outing with Jenn Schaal, we spent only a little bit of time talking about comedy and most of it talking about Kevin, because I am 14 years old that way. I decided to go to the damn Saloon, but first I had to drive my car home and cab it.
Joey was texting me to hurry. When I prepared to walk into my apartment, there was a cab available to take me, but I had to go back inside to check how I looked, because I wasn't sure I was pretty enough. This added another 20 minutes before my arrival. Along with even going to The Saloon that night, that is another split-decision moment that I will always question. I look at the picture above, and while I know I am not Channing Tatum, I also realize that I looked fine, dammit. I do not know what I was so afraid of.
I got there around 12:30, and ran into JARED! I didn't even know he was there! This led to relief because then I didn't even need to worry about Kevin. By this point, I knew where he was, but first I ordered Absolut on the rocks from Danny, because I was nervous. I finally saw him at a different bar. He was in a red T-shirt and was talking with Joey, Liam, and Quinn. Because I am 12, I talked to Joey first, and then Liam (who was pretty far gone), and then Quinn, and then Kevin. I was going to handle this like an adult.
"JAKEY!" he yelled. "Good to see you!"
"Itsgoodtoseeyoutookevin," I articulately replied.
"My niece asked about you!" he said. "So did my mom. She said she loves your expressions."
"Oh," I said, staring at Joey the entire time. "Thatisverysweet."
I have not introduced readers to Quinn yet. He has been there since early fall. He has not been written about because he is quiet. I first met him at a Sunday brunch as a friend of Markie's, and he often goes to LUSH with us on Wednesdays. He smiles a lot and does not say much. He is 23 and lives in my neighborhood. I had yet to have a personal one-on-one conversation, but, save for a time at LUSH when I (perhaps rudely) asked for a ride home and he agreed to one and then later texted Joey that he was backing out of it, I've never had beef with him. If you asked me my opinion, I would say he is a good kid.
"Jakey," Joey whispered. "Kevin has been on Quinn all night."
"Well, so?" I asked. "We're all grown-ups." I was on my second straight vodka drink after that.
"Yeah, but Quinn doesn't even like him that way," Joey said. "He's been texting me 'help' all night."
But what was I to do? Quinn and Kevin kept walking off in various parts of the bar, and I didn't want to seem like a stalker. Jared and I brushed by them a few times, and I had some more conversation with Kevin, but nothing deep, nothing I will remember (I also talked to the boy from Iowa while staring a hole through Quinn). By 1:30, it was inevitable that Quinn and Kevin were going home together, and I honestly was fine with it, because my apartment was really messy. Jared asked if he could stay over and we watched the first hour of Julie & Julia. Because Kevin wore red, I played "White Houses" by Vanessa Carlton over and over. Nothing has changed since college. I am still sexually naive and pining over the unattainable.
And he's so funny in his bright red shirt
We were all in love and we all got hurt
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Loring Park Episode #21: Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot?
Previously on Loring Park: Jakey and Kevin ventured to a famous party house. Jakey has a crush on everyone. But mostly Kevin. Oh, brother.
I spent the last three New Year's Eves (such awful grammar) in downtown hotels. Now that I live downtown, it's the last place I wanted to be. Luckily, I was invited to a New Year's Eve party at the same house that hosted the Daisy Dukes Party I randomly attended. I would be less nervous this time because I knew in advance that Liam, Chuck and Peter would be there, and I could have alcohol.
I was still a nervous wreck the entire day of the party. Kevin texted me at 5:30 asking if I wanted to come over earlier to watch a movie, but I decided that I had to Nair my arms and make sure that I was immaculate-looking. I managed to leave my house at 9 (like I had promised). I tried to buy mixers at Walgreens, but they absolutely failed and I could not get good mixers! In my defense, Kevin had asked for Five Alive and I don't even know what that is.
My anxiety is in reverse with him. Were this a normal friendship (I say the word "friendship" because "relationship" sounds far too serious and adult), I would feel more comfort the more we hang out. Instead, it is the opposite. The more I see him, the more I feel nauseous and anxious, and it's because I like him, more than the way I like the bar crushes, but I can't tell him that, because timing is everything, and I certainly couldn't say it on the way to the New Year's Eve party. What if he didn't feel the same way? Talk about an awkward car ride home the next morning.
Lost in my thoughts, I drove past his house on accident and then took forever to turn around because somebody was tailgating me and I panicked. Suburban drivers are mean, you guys. I finally got to his driveway and into his house. He was wearing a blue button-down and that damned pouka shell necklace. THAT DAMNED POUKA SHELL. It is as ridiculous as it is appealing.
"Try this on," he smiled, and he handed me a cream puffer jacket that I thought was a bit big on me. "That looks good. My mom brought it for me for Christmas but my arms are too long for it, so she said I should see if it fits you."
"Okay," I said through gritted teeth. "We should go. We don't want to be late to the party."
"It's good to see you," he said on the way there, tousling my hair, but not even that calmed my anxiety. It made it worse, actually, and then I got lost before we got to the freeway. I was beyond tense. I was obsessed with my butt, and who would be at this party, and then I was angry at myself for being anxious. This had nothing to do with the fact that we had already seen each other naked. There were going to be boys who look like models at this shindig. Boys born in the '90s who had positive, sunny attitudes and weren't constantly on edge.
“Buddy, are you sure you’re okay?” he asked
“Yes,” I said through clenched teeth. “I just hate driving. I’ll be okay when we get there.”
“Are you …. I don’t believe you, but okay,” he said.
Maybe there is when I should have said something. I convince myself that I don't want a relationship, or something monogomous, because I know I am too inexperienced for such a thing and have no clue as to what I am doing. That being said, I clearly have feelings for him, ones that are stronger than a simple crush, but I can't verbalize them. Instead I cope by listening to Lana del Ray and eating EZ-Cheese.
"I get lost all the time," I managed to say. "I hate driving. I am always running late. I'm on edge 24/7. Next year I will be a grown-up."
"Who says it has to be next year?" he smiled. "You've got three and a half hours left of 2012 to be an adult. You can do it."
I spent the last three New Year's Eves (such awful grammar) in downtown hotels. Now that I live downtown, it's the last place I wanted to be. Luckily, I was invited to a New Year's Eve party at the same house that hosted the Daisy Dukes Party I randomly attended. I would be less nervous this time because I knew in advance that Liam, Chuck and Peter would be there, and I could have alcohol.
I was still a nervous wreck the entire day of the party. Kevin texted me at 5:30 asking if I wanted to come over earlier to watch a movie, but I decided that I had to Nair my arms and make sure that I was immaculate-looking. I managed to leave my house at 9 (like I had promised). I tried to buy mixers at Walgreens, but they absolutely failed and I could not get good mixers! In my defense, Kevin had asked for Five Alive and I don't even know what that is.
My anxiety is in reverse with him. Were this a normal friendship (I say the word "friendship" because "relationship" sounds far too serious and adult), I would feel more comfort the more we hang out. Instead, it is the opposite. The more I see him, the more I feel nauseous and anxious, and it's because I like him, more than the way I like the bar crushes, but I can't tell him that, because timing is everything, and I certainly couldn't say it on the way to the New Year's Eve party. What if he didn't feel the same way? Talk about an awkward car ride home the next morning.
Lost in my thoughts, I drove past his house on accident and then took forever to turn around because somebody was tailgating me and I panicked. Suburban drivers are mean, you guys. I finally got to his driveway and into his house. He was wearing a blue button-down and that damned pouka shell necklace. THAT DAMNED POUKA SHELL. It is as ridiculous as it is appealing.
"Try this on," he smiled, and he handed me a cream puffer jacket that I thought was a bit big on me. "That looks good. My mom brought it for me for Christmas but my arms are too long for it, so she said I should see if it fits you."
"Okay," I said through gritted teeth. "We should go. We don't want to be late to the party."
"It's good to see you," he said on the way there, tousling my hair, but not even that calmed my anxiety. It made it worse, actually, and then I got lost before we got to the freeway. I was beyond tense. I was obsessed with my butt, and who would be at this party, and then I was angry at myself for being anxious. This had nothing to do with the fact that we had already seen each other naked. There were going to be boys who look like models at this shindig. Boys born in the '90s who had positive, sunny attitudes and weren't constantly on edge.
“Buddy, are you sure you’re okay?” he asked
“Yes,” I said through clenched teeth. “I just hate driving. I’ll be okay when we get there.”
“Are you …. I don’t believe you, but okay,” he said.
Maybe there is when I should have said something. I convince myself that I don't want a relationship, or something monogomous, because I know I am too inexperienced for such a thing and have no clue as to what I am doing. That being said, I clearly have feelings for him, ones that are stronger than a simple crush, but I can't verbalize them. Instead I cope by listening to Lana del Ray and eating EZ-Cheese.
"I get lost all the time," I managed to say. "I hate driving. I am always running late. I'm on edge 24/7. Next year I will be a grown-up."
"Who says it has to be next year?" he smiled. "You've got three and a half hours left of 2012 to be an adult. You can do it."
Monday, December 31, 2012
Loring Park Episode #20B: A Long December
Previously on Loring Park:
Sunday Funday! And let’s not get into it.
***
I have never liked December. Years of retail have turned me into a Scrooge. I am little and get cold easily. A friend told me this month that I need to live in Miami, but I am so pale that I am worried that if I lived there, friends and neighbors would constantly assume I was deathly ill.
2012 was a year of change, growth, poverty, heartbreak, disappointment, triumph, SO MUCH FLIRTING, new friendships, strengthened older friendships, an appreciation for family, and maybe just a glimmer of hope. Here’s to financial independence, confrontation of fear of intimacy, and improvement of punctuality.
***
I started working two jobs in December after choosing to go part-time at the one I have had for four years. It is either the smartest or dumbest thing I have ever done. I adore most of my co-workers, but I could not get promoted to save my life, and dealing with certain co-workers plus the nature of the job (December in retail! Hello!) was giving me hemorrhoids. Besides, my ultimate goal in 2013 is to be solely focused on the most stable industry of all: Entertainment. What could go wrong?
This new schedule meant that I could go only out once a week! Horrors! But I strangely enjoyed this, because it meant that instead of showing up at The Saloon at 12:30, you go to places early, leave before bar close, and actually value the time you have to spend with your friends. One night Joey and I even went to LUSH at 10:00 on a Wednesday, and I had to convince myself that it wasn’t a dream. Because I am 13, I had to tell him all about Kevin, as if our table at LUSH was in the middle of a high school cafeteria.
“Well, does it mean anything?!” Joey asked with wide eyes.
“I don’t think so,” I scoffed.
“Didn’t you guys talk about it when it was over?!” he asked again.
“Did we talk about it?” I repeated. “That is the gayest thing I have ever heard.” We danced out our confused emotions, next to Muscle Margaret and Star Quarterback. Muscle Margaret is not to be confused with Muscle Mary, who bartends at The Saloon and is often very cold with me. Muscle Margaret is in his own bubble, where if he thinks you’re worth knowing, he’ll acknowledge you; Muscle Mary sees you, knows you see him, but could give a shit as long as you’re not tipping. Chuck and I went to his bar one fateful night at The Saloon this month, a night that was hampered because I spent all night freaking out about my lost cell phone, only to find that it was in my apartment the entire time. I am the spaciest person EVER, you guys.
I even did a Sunday Funday for the first time ever! I posted a picture last time, but how Sunday Funday works is that you start at LUSH, drinking mimosas and ostensibly acting like a grown-up. Then your mother leaves, and your friends drag you to the Eagle, where good things never happen. You either return to LUSH or to your apartment (for a well-needed nap) before ending your day at The Saloon. It is exhausting and a sport in itself.
I was able to celebrate another Sunday Funday, but before I get into that, I must share events that happened that had nothing to do with clubbing.
Sunday Funday! And let’s not get into it.
***
I have never liked December. Years of retail have turned me into a Scrooge. I am little and get cold easily. A friend told me this month that I need to live in Miami, but I am so pale that I am worried that if I lived there, friends and neighbors would constantly assume I was deathly ill.
2012 was a year of change, growth, poverty, heartbreak, disappointment, triumph, SO MUCH FLIRTING, new friendships, strengthened older friendships, an appreciation for family, and maybe just a glimmer of hope. Here’s to financial independence, confrontation of fear of intimacy, and improvement of punctuality.
***
I started working two jobs in December after choosing to go part-time at the one I have had for four years. It is either the smartest or dumbest thing I have ever done. I adore most of my co-workers, but I could not get promoted to save my life, and dealing with certain co-workers plus the nature of the job (December in retail! Hello!) was giving me hemorrhoids. Besides, my ultimate goal in 2013 is to be solely focused on the most stable industry of all: Entertainment. What could go wrong?
This new schedule meant that I could go only out once a week! Horrors! But I strangely enjoyed this, because it meant that instead of showing up at The Saloon at 12:30, you go to places early, leave before bar close, and actually value the time you have to spend with your friends. One night Joey and I even went to LUSH at 10:00 on a Wednesday, and I had to convince myself that it wasn’t a dream. Because I am 13, I had to tell him all about Kevin, as if our table at LUSH was in the middle of a high school cafeteria.
“Well, does it mean anything?!” Joey asked with wide eyes.
“I don’t think so,” I scoffed.
“Didn’t you guys talk about it when it was over?!” he asked again.
“Did we talk about it?” I repeated. “That is the gayest thing I have ever heard.” We danced out our confused emotions, next to Muscle Margaret and Star Quarterback. Muscle Margaret is not to be confused with Muscle Mary, who bartends at The Saloon and is often very cold with me. Muscle Margaret is in his own bubble, where if he thinks you’re worth knowing, he’ll acknowledge you; Muscle Mary sees you, knows you see him, but could give a shit as long as you’re not tipping. Chuck and I went to his bar one fateful night at The Saloon this month, a night that was hampered because I spent all night freaking out about my lost cell phone, only to find that it was in my apartment the entire time. I am the spaciest person EVER, you guys.
I even did a Sunday Funday for the first time ever! I posted a picture last time, but how Sunday Funday works is that you start at LUSH, drinking mimosas and ostensibly acting like a grown-up. Then your mother leaves, and your friends drag you to the Eagle, where good things never happen. You either return to LUSH or to your apartment (for a well-needed nap) before ending your day at The Saloon. It is exhausting and a sport in itself.
I was able to celebrate another Sunday Funday, but before I get into that, I must share events that happened that had nothing to do with clubbing.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Loring Park Episode #20: We Need to Talk About Kevin
After two weeks of struggling as to how I would write (if ever), about this recent development, I decided it would only be right to use REALITYTVGIFS.TUMBLR.COM as my resource.
His interactions toward me have not changed, and neither have my feelings for him. I ended up going to his corporate Christmas party the next day. I FIT RIGHT IN. .His mother, his niece, and his mother's dog now enjoy me, but it doesn't mean anything. It doesn't mean anything.
(And yes, I am still closed for business and we only went to second, but IT STILL COUNTS because I have the sex life of a nun. I WAS IN THE BEST MOOD THE NEXT DAY. It took me an hour to park at the Mall of America and I considered it a blessing because I had an extra hour to think about sex. Also, I do not feel bad about writing this because not only have I changed the boy's name, but I showed him previous entries and he said "I find this asinine". This is not a Duke Power Point type of situation)
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Loring Park Episode #19: Be Thankful
This episode is going to be written in a choppy form, because I have things to do. Also, a lot has happened, and a lot hasn't happened, but it's all going to start with this:
It was the day of Liam's birthday party, and I was bringing groceries in the house, and I was only going to be inside for a few minutes, but a few minutes turned into two hours, and the moral of this story is that if you have a red Jack Spade wallet, do not leave it on your passenger seat, even if you live in an ostensibly safe neighborhood.
It put things in perspective, though. This happened a week before Thanksgiving, and I was surprised by how I really wasn't that upset about it. Discover air-mailed my credit card, my mother spotted me $20 to get food and paid for the window to be fixed (adding it to the thousands that I owe her, in the year 2013, when I allegedly become a grown-up), my friends were sympathetic and understanding. It made me realize what I should be thankful for.
FAMILY
I got a new bed last week because one of my friends peed in it. I am thankful for that friend because he makes me laugh and he paid for the Rug Doctor the next day. "This was meant to happen, Jakey," he said, "Because it'll get rid of the cat pee smell in your closet anyway." It was a rare Sunday that I had off in retail world, so naturally I took my mother and grandparents to LUSH for brunch.
We didn't really tell Grandpa that it was a gay bar, and I don't know if he got it because the football game was on (albeit next to a music video screen). My grandpa is not homophobic, but he is blue-collar and in his 70's, so I was a bit tepid at first, but my mother explained that as long as you feed him, he is content (and he fully joined the Clean Plate Club). We discussed a friend of mine whose father is a Pentecostal preacher and does not speak to him, and I shared that I was thankful that I got to have both family Thanksgiving and friends Thanksgiving, and it is a rarity for a gay person to have that blessing. Many of the Minneapolis gays go to brunch regularly, but I only get to go twice a year (the last time I was off on Sunday was for my birthday in July), which meant I was drinking like I was in Las Vegas. A gay complimented Grandma Shirley's new handbag that she bought from Lilian's in Blaine in support of Small Business Saturday, and was gracious when she accidentally bumped into him with it. "I'm sorry," she said. "My bag is too big." "Oh, darling," he said. "Nothing can ever be too big." Banter! I met Tall Boy's boyfriend and he couldn't look up from his phone to introduce himself, but not even that would bring me down! Sunday Funday!
My family departed, and I was hoping to eventually get a nap in at some point. It was not to be. Somehow we went to the Eagle, and it's all a blur from there, kids. I allegedly felt up Ryan Robertson, but only because Liam was controlling my hand, and I allegedly shared secrets, because when I drink I am like Elaine on "Seinfeld" (I am also an awful dancer and I violently push people). We went to Lush for a second time, which I do not remember, and then at The Saloon I remember doing self-esteem exercises with a really cute bro-ski type, and then Liam told him how old I was, and then I tackled Liam to the ground and made Jared count the pin.
Allegedly. I remember nothing.
FRIENDS
Oh, the friends I have! There are the usual suspects, to be sure, but I know such a great variety of people. Kara threw a Barbie themed birthday party and I wore my best pink Express shirt. Then I had an allergic reaction to Kinky, which totally bummed me out. Do I need to have Claritin before I drink now? I remember reading in Augusten Burroughs' "Dry" that he would take, like, eight Benadryls before a night of binge drinking. That sounds so awful to me. I would be in a coma. My sinuses would feel great, but I wouldn't be awake to notice it. I last went to Kara's for her Fourth of July shindig, and I love her parties. They are a mix of people who work retail, people who are writers, and usually both (Kara herself is an amazing writer -- and avid reader.She knew about Carole Radziwill before RHONY!). She is also friends with another comedian, in a delightful coincidence.
COMEDY
The hardest part about doing stand-up comedy is actually leaving your apartment to go do stand-up comedy, but I'm doing it more and more lately, because my goal for 2013 is to actually make money doing it (and also prove to myself that I wasn't supposed to be promoted and that I was meant to feel worthless and destitute in the latter half of 2012). Every month I meet more comedians who are so dedicated to what they do, and I just hope to absorb their drive and work ethic. I did a real show at the Comedy Corner this week called Punchline Punchout, a concept in which the comedians have to write five minutes of new matrial based on the topic they get that very morning. Mine was "fire", so I did jokes about Lindsay Lohan's vagina, scary gay stories to be told at gay campfire ("One time I went to The Saloon and I wore black shoes with brown socks!!!"), and the time I set my apartment on fire because I was having webcam sex with a stripper from Miami and I put a towel over a lamp to create better mood lighting. You see, when the stripper took off his shirt he looked like a stripper, and when I took mine off, I looked like an albino 12-year-old girl who is growing slight body hair as a result of her body eating itself due to anorexia.
WORK
I have a job in this economy. Gawker.com has been doing an incredible series about the plight of the unemployed, and it can really scare the crap out of you. HOW DARE I EVER COMPLAIN.
BOYS BOYS BOYS
I am just as boy-crazy as ever. Jared and Liam were over and I jokingly made a list of all my crushes, and I realized I have at least 20. Then, because I am a mature adult, I began to rank them based on how badly I want to play board games with them, and how likely my odds are of playing board games with them. I quit because it got too depressing. ("#3 is single now! But I am still white!"). And at the risk of being TMI, I am sexually bankrupt. I just like to flirt, people.
Joey, Liam, Markie and a gal pal graciously attended my Comedy Corner show, and after LUSH karaoke (with my parents! Who secretly love LUSH now. It's going to be one of those things where I show up on a crowded Wednesday and they will be sitting at the bar, shocked to see me. Like, "Oh, Jake! It's dollar drinks! Your father and I are going to have to get a cab home!"), we vamoosed to The Saloon!!
I had more to drink than I usually do, and because it was a full moon, all of my crushes were there. As I was yelling in the bathroom about how much Muscle Margaret is a snob (because he is!), Piano Man told me to stop yelling. He has been working out and his arms looked good. Even Jared commented on it. "Jakey, I usually never want to have sex with the same people you do, but CHILD BOO." The Pink Ladies were there, usually flawless. Peter showed up and told me everything he was wearing (it's our thing), and grinned even bigger than usual. "I have foreign exchange students with me," he beamed. You don't have to tell me twice! We sprinted to the dance floor and I met the blondest person I have ever met. "Where are you from?" I gushed. "Europe," he smiled, and I will consider it a truly multicultural experience.
Later in the night, I met up with my posse from earlier. As we stood in the center of the bar, Star Quarterback sauntered in. Were this even a month ago, I would have had my Pavlovian response of tensing up and running away, but now we're best friends and call each other every night and talk about life, love, and the pursuit of the American dream in a frightening economy.
Okay, that part isn't true, but he *did* say hello and hugged me.
I was so excited, but not everyone agreed that it was worthy of my emotion. "Oh, wow, really?" Joey scoffed. "You hugged a guy who's always hopped up on Adderall and doesn't do anything with his life. You and your A-list bullshit. Big fucking deal, Jakey."
I was angry for five whole minutes! But as I walked back to the bathroom, I realized two important points. First of all, Joey is a friend versus an acquaintance, and friends have the right to call you out on your bullshit and immature behavior. I am 12 years old about the preferred gender, and I understand that. Secondly, Joey and I have discussed the concept of the A-list before, and I learned over the summer that it's only "real" in the case of the clubs and the social echelons we create in the unique subculture that is the Hennepin Avenue bar scene, but it does not mean anything in terms of your success in life, of your career, or ultimately your happiness. Joey lives with Muscle Margaret, someone who had an establishment throw him a birthday party complete with a $5 cover charge, and, from the one very brief conversation I had with him, does not engage in pleasantries with people who aren't going to figuratively or literally sit on his dick. I understood where Joey's reaction was coming from. Yet I must defensively note that, as I said in the Halloween episode, the Star Quarterback thing eventually wasn't personally about him anymore. It was about social anxiety and self-affirmation and basing everything on wanting to be acknowledged by one person (hello, 12th grade, I remember you!), because if I was then I would feel like I belonged, and I finally got it and it's all I ever wanted from him, and it was a full-circle moment for me in this particular era of my life.
IDOLS
My best friend Erin and I are seeing Kathy Griffin tonight. Life could suck a lot worse.
It was the day of Liam's birthday party, and I was bringing groceries in the house, and I was only going to be inside for a few minutes, but a few minutes turned into two hours, and the moral of this story is that if you have a red Jack Spade wallet, do not leave it on your passenger seat, even if you live in an ostensibly safe neighborhood.
It put things in perspective, though. This happened a week before Thanksgiving, and I was surprised by how I really wasn't that upset about it. Discover air-mailed my credit card, my mother spotted me $20 to get food and paid for the window to be fixed (adding it to the thousands that I owe her, in the year 2013, when I allegedly become a grown-up), my friends were sympathetic and understanding. It made me realize what I should be thankful for.
FAMILY
I got a new bed last week because one of my friends peed in it. I am thankful for that friend because he makes me laugh and he paid for the Rug Doctor the next day. "This was meant to happen, Jakey," he said, "Because it'll get rid of the cat pee smell in your closet anyway." It was a rare Sunday that I had off in retail world, so naturally I took my mother and grandparents to LUSH for brunch.
We didn't really tell Grandpa that it was a gay bar, and I don't know if he got it because the football game was on (albeit next to a music video screen). My grandpa is not homophobic, but he is blue-collar and in his 70's, so I was a bit tepid at first, but my mother explained that as long as you feed him, he is content (and he fully joined the Clean Plate Club). We discussed a friend of mine whose father is a Pentecostal preacher and does not speak to him, and I shared that I was thankful that I got to have both family Thanksgiving and friends Thanksgiving, and it is a rarity for a gay person to have that blessing. Many of the Minneapolis gays go to brunch regularly, but I only get to go twice a year (the last time I was off on Sunday was for my birthday in July), which meant I was drinking like I was in Las Vegas. A gay complimented Grandma Shirley's new handbag that she bought from Lilian's in Blaine in support of Small Business Saturday, and was gracious when she accidentally bumped into him with it. "I'm sorry," she said. "My bag is too big." "Oh, darling," he said. "Nothing can ever be too big." Banter! I met Tall Boy's boyfriend and he couldn't look up from his phone to introduce himself, but not even that would bring me down! Sunday Funday!
My family departed, and I was hoping to eventually get a nap in at some point. It was not to be. Somehow we went to the Eagle, and it's all a blur from there, kids. I allegedly felt up Ryan Robertson, but only because Liam was controlling my hand, and I allegedly shared secrets, because when I drink I am like Elaine on "Seinfeld" (I am also an awful dancer and I violently push people). We went to Lush for a second time, which I do not remember, and then at The Saloon I remember doing self-esteem exercises with a really cute bro-ski type, and then Liam told him how old I was, and then I tackled Liam to the ground and made Jared count the pin.
Allegedly. I remember nothing.
FRIENDS
Oh, the friends I have! There are the usual suspects, to be sure, but I know such a great variety of people. Kara threw a Barbie themed birthday party and I wore my best pink Express shirt. Then I had an allergic reaction to Kinky, which totally bummed me out. Do I need to have Claritin before I drink now? I remember reading in Augusten Burroughs' "Dry" that he would take, like, eight Benadryls before a night of binge drinking. That sounds so awful to me. I would be in a coma. My sinuses would feel great, but I wouldn't be awake to notice it. I last went to Kara's for her Fourth of July shindig, and I love her parties. They are a mix of people who work retail, people who are writers, and usually both (Kara herself is an amazing writer -- and avid reader.She knew about Carole Radziwill before RHONY!). She is also friends with another comedian, in a delightful coincidence.
COMEDY
The hardest part about doing stand-up comedy is actually leaving your apartment to go do stand-up comedy, but I'm doing it more and more lately, because my goal for 2013 is to actually make money doing it (and also prove to myself that I wasn't supposed to be promoted and that I was meant to feel worthless and destitute in the latter half of 2012). Every month I meet more comedians who are so dedicated to what they do, and I just hope to absorb their drive and work ethic. I did a real show at the Comedy Corner this week called Punchline Punchout, a concept in which the comedians have to write five minutes of new matrial based on the topic they get that very morning. Mine was "fire", so I did jokes about Lindsay Lohan's vagina, scary gay stories to be told at gay campfire ("One time I went to The Saloon and I wore black shoes with brown socks!!!"), and the time I set my apartment on fire because I was having webcam sex with a stripper from Miami and I put a towel over a lamp to create better mood lighting. You see, when the stripper took off his shirt he looked like a stripper, and when I took mine off, I looked like an albino 12-year-old girl who is growing slight body hair as a result of her body eating itself due to anorexia.
WORK
I have a job in this economy. Gawker.com has been doing an incredible series about the plight of the unemployed, and it can really scare the crap out of you. HOW DARE I EVER COMPLAIN.
BOYS BOYS BOYS
I am just as boy-crazy as ever. Jared and Liam were over and I jokingly made a list of all my crushes, and I realized I have at least 20. Then, because I am a mature adult, I began to rank them based on how badly I want to play board games with them, and how likely my odds are of playing board games with them. I quit because it got too depressing. ("#3 is single now! But I am still white!"). And at the risk of being TMI, I am sexually bankrupt. I just like to flirt, people.
Joey, Liam, Markie and a gal pal graciously attended my Comedy Corner show, and after LUSH karaoke (with my parents! Who secretly love LUSH now. It's going to be one of those things where I show up on a crowded Wednesday and they will be sitting at the bar, shocked to see me. Like, "Oh, Jake! It's dollar drinks! Your father and I are going to have to get a cab home!"), we vamoosed to The Saloon!!
I had more to drink than I usually do, and because it was a full moon, all of my crushes were there. As I was yelling in the bathroom about how much Muscle Margaret is a snob (because he is!), Piano Man told me to stop yelling. He has been working out and his arms looked good. Even Jared commented on it. "Jakey, I usually never want to have sex with the same people you do, but CHILD BOO." The Pink Ladies were there, usually flawless. Peter showed up and told me everything he was wearing (it's our thing), and grinned even bigger than usual. "I have foreign exchange students with me," he beamed. You don't have to tell me twice! We sprinted to the dance floor and I met the blondest person I have ever met. "Where are you from?" I gushed. "Europe," he smiled, and I will consider it a truly multicultural experience.
Later in the night, I met up with my posse from earlier. As we stood in the center of the bar, Star Quarterback sauntered in. Were this even a month ago, I would have had my Pavlovian response of tensing up and running away, but now we're best friends and call each other every night and talk about life, love, and the pursuit of the American dream in a frightening economy.
Okay, that part isn't true, but he *did* say hello and hugged me.
I was so excited, but not everyone agreed that it was worthy of my emotion. "Oh, wow, really?" Joey scoffed. "You hugged a guy who's always hopped up on Adderall and doesn't do anything with his life. You and your A-list bullshit. Big fucking deal, Jakey."
I was angry for five whole minutes! But as I walked back to the bathroom, I realized two important points. First of all, Joey is a friend versus an acquaintance, and friends have the right to call you out on your bullshit and immature behavior. I am 12 years old about the preferred gender, and I understand that. Secondly, Joey and I have discussed the concept of the A-list before, and I learned over the summer that it's only "real" in the case of the clubs and the social echelons we create in the unique subculture that is the Hennepin Avenue bar scene, but it does not mean anything in terms of your success in life, of your career, or ultimately your happiness. Joey lives with Muscle Margaret, someone who had an establishment throw him a birthday party complete with a $5 cover charge, and, from the one very brief conversation I had with him, does not engage in pleasantries with people who aren't going to figuratively or literally sit on his dick. I understood where Joey's reaction was coming from. Yet I must defensively note that, as I said in the Halloween episode, the Star Quarterback thing eventually wasn't personally about him anymore. It was about social anxiety and self-affirmation and basing everything on wanting to be acknowledged by one person (hello, 12th grade, I remember you!), because if I was then I would feel like I belonged, and I finally got it and it's all I ever wanted from him, and it was a full-circle moment for me in this particular era of my life.
IDOLS
My best friend Erin and I are seeing Kathy Griffin tonight. Life could suck a lot worse.
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