Oklahoma! key dramatis personæ, from the left:

Cord Elam. The moral and emotional core of the Oklahoma! narrative. Basically the lead. Brags that he could eat a gatepost. No homo.

Will Parker. The clumsy—but alarmingly bendy—one who does his press junket splayed out on the floor like a common hussy. Couldn’t count to $50 if his potential marriage depended on it. Minor character at best.

Curly McLain. Sings about corn. Lies about fringe. Someone runs into his knife. Someone runs into his knife one time.

Old-man shoulder hair: gross

Primer: dry
Paint: grey
Hair: high
Shirt: really bad planning because it has no sleeves and it’s cold out and I’m freezing but with me every day’s a GUN SHOW
Gender: guy

NEW RULES:

When I pay a hella lot of money THAT YOU BARELY NEGOTIATE ON to buy a sexy new Kia Forte 2020 from you [JUST LOOK AT THIS SEXY INTERIOR! CAN YOU BLAME ME FOR BUYING IT? NO, YOU CAN'T.], you owe me two things:

1. A bag to put all the stuff from my old car in when I do a final sweep of its contents. Seriously. Why isn't this a standard thing you do when you sell a car? I can't be the first person ever who needed a small bag for the crap in my glove compartment when I traded in my old car for a new one from you.

2. A final sweep of your own through my old car to find things I overlooked. Like my damn garage-door opener. Seriously. Why isn't this a standard thing you do when you sell a car? I can't be the first person ever who accidentally left a garage-door opener in my old car when I traded it in for a new one from you. And now you have to wait around tonight for me to pick it up after work. How is this efficient for either of us?

BUT LOOK AT THIS SEXY INTERIOR, PEOPLE! I WOULD NEVER LEAVE THIS CAR IF I DIDN'T HAVE TO GO TO WORK ON OCCASION TO PAY FOR IT.

Where did you come from ...

Say you’re walking through downtown Cedar Rapids (hypothetically) from your car to the theater where you’re doing Hello, Dolly! (hypothetically) and you walk past the convention center where a bunch of kids are having their homecoming dance (hypothetically) and a girl walking by with a couple friends looks at you very excitedly and exclaims “Hi, Joe!” and looks still very excitedly at you as she waits for a response, do you:

1) Do what we all know is probably best for her and excitedly say “Hi!” back to let her keep living safely in her delusional Joe universe
2) Yell “I’M NOT JOE!” and embarrass her in front of her delusion-enabling friends
3) Use her greeting as an in to say “Gurrrl you are ROCKING that knockoff Prada!”
4) Explain solemnly that Joe died and you’re his inconsolable twin brother on his way to the funeral
5) Look frantically over your shoulder and run away as though you know there’s a hitman named Joe lumbering after you with a chainsaw and William Shatner mask
6) Toot audibly and say “oops—you startled me!”
7) Melt into the ground in embarrassment because people terrify you
😎 Get really pissed that typing 8 and ) side by side automatically and irreversibly turns into 😎 on your phone
9) Tell her where you did come from and where you did go
10) Post an online survey

Last-minute tips from me to you for getting the most out of Sunday's Chicago Marathon:

1. Do your crying up front. You'll be emotional at the starting line as it is, so let your tears flow then. Trust me: You won't have any moisture left in your body at the finish line anyway.
2. Speaking of moisture, PEE BEFORE THE RACE. Then get back in the porta-potty line and pee again.
3. There are very few people in the world who get to be cheered and screamed at by literally a million fans for plus-or-minus four hours. You're one of them. Drink it in.
4. That said, don't let all that screaming distract you from the race. It's fun to smile and wave at everyone, but doing so burns precious energy. Find the balance between being a rock star and being a disciplined runner.
5. THAT said, all bets are off in Boystown. The second you turn left from Addison onto Broadway, you will be overcome by megatron levels of cheering and screaming and drag queens and music and pure unbridled joy. It is the BEST mile of the race, so smile and wave and cheer and pump your arms and maybe even cry a little. You won't be able to stop yourself anyway, so dive in and enjoy it.
6. There's no shame in walking if you need to. Your legs will start to stiffen up if you walk too long, though, which will make it harder to resume your running. But you probably already know that by now.:-)
7. That said, suck it up, put on your badass runner face and start running like a world-class athlete whenever you see the marathon photographers. (See photo below.) You'll thank me when it comes time to buy your commemorative marathon photos.

8. I'm not gonna lie: Your last few miles running north up Michigan Avenue will suck like you won't believe. The cheering crowds will thin, your feet will hurt all the way up to your neck and you will swear that someone has put the Willis Tower--your one shining beacon leading you to the finish line--on wheels and is slowly pushing it farther and farther north just to mess with your mind. Rest assured that's not the case; there seriously isn't time to get all those wheels installed.
9. The route is pretty uniformly, blessedly flat. For the first 26 miles. In a twist that can only be described as Geneva-Convention-defying cruel, the route becomes a st-e-e-e-e-p hill once you pass the 26-mile marker and turn right on Roosevelt. To mitigate the situation, though, there will be another massive crowd there to cheer you on. Drink in as much as your body will let you.
10. Check out your skin after you cross the finish line. You will be covered in homemade salt. You're a margarita! So drink it in again! So to speak.
11. IMMEDIATELY GO HYDRATE.
12. IMMEDIATELY GO HYDRATE.
13. IMMEDIATELY GO HYDRATE.
13.5. PLUS EAT A FREE BANANA.
13.75. AND A FREE COOKIE.
14. And you won't want to, but you'll thank yourself later if you do some gentle stretching as soon as you get through the finisher crowd.
15. YOU'VE! RUN! A! MARATHON!

Throwback Thursday: Proto-Gay Edition

Things I had discovered in 1984: The stinky-feet defiance of going sockless in cheap canvas shoes from Target. The gender-bending subversiveness of wearing a hand-braided ankle bracelet. The surfer-wannabe failure of black board shorts decorated with gracefully swirling fish in trendy shades of neon. The glee-club weirdness of fake Ray-Bans with little black music notes all over them. Hair mousse.

Things I had not yet discovered in 1984: Going to a gym. Having the good sense not to wear tank tops in public. Having the good sense not to wear white fake Ray-Bans with little black music notes all over them. Having the good sense to make sure I didn't look like I was in a low-rent Flock of Seagulls cover band before I left the house.

Shhhhh! I'm catching guys ...

FACT: My 1890s-gentleman-with-an-excruciatingly-precise-side-part hair is still totally on point two hours after the show.

FACT: My fireworks-and-sailboats shirt is objectively sexy and makes me factually catnip to the ladies.

POSSIBLY: And the dudes.

FACT: I’m watching a National Geographic documentary on the recovery of the Costa Concordia.

FACT: Every diver and salvage engineer in the entire Mediterranean is HAWT.

FACT: That’s Mediterranean for HOT.

FACT: If they could only see me through my TV they could see how irresistibly catnippy my on-point hair and fireworks-and-sailboats shirt are.

FACT: The combination is romantically lethal.

FACT: The documentary is really quite fascinating.

FACT: So I’m too busy to date all those hot Mediterraneans.

THEREFORE: Sorry, fellas. Now shhhhhh!

BEHOLD MY MANLY POWERS

OLD LIGHT AT THE BOTTOM OF THE STAIRS:• Cheapy grandma-blah 1970s-bad-idea Trump-tacky fake gold hardware
• Cheapy grandma-tapioca textured glass bowl that you can actually see through to the ugly lightbulb
• Incandescent lightbulb with shady, mousy-blah, unhelpful yellowish light
• The exact wrong kind of light for photographing clearly when it’s on
• HORRIFYINGLY SCREWED INTO THE CEILING DRYWALL INSTEAD OF THE JUNCTION BOX WHEN I REMOVED IT
• Probably cost $2.99 at The Lazy Ugly Grandma-Blah Trump University Store

NEW LIGHT AT THE BOTTOM OF THE STAIRS:• Handsome, timeless, Jake-has-exquisite-taste-you-should-totally-date-him brushed-nickel hardware
• Lightly frosted, subtly marbled, perfect-amount-of-opaqueness glass dome
• White LED bulbs with clean, pure, flattering, culturally appropriate light
• Though it unfortunately shows how much we need to regularly dust and vacuum at the bottom of the stairs
• Photographs handsomely when it’s on
• MOUNTED ON AND GROUNDED TO A JUNCTION BOX SO WE ALL DON’T DIE IN A DAMN ELECTRICAL FIRE
• I long ago threw away the receipt even though I waited until today to put it up but I think it was $19.99

HOW TO ADULT:

1. Get an estimate to have the ugly, bubbly rust on your car repaired
2. Contain your flinching instinct when you get the original ballpark number
3. Head from there to get your oil changed
4. Remember to bring your coupon
5. Refrain from awkwardly flirting with the nerdy straight guy with the ugly shoes in the waiting room
6. Refrain from super-embarrassingly giggling and flipping your hair when you talk to the super-cute guy behind the counter
7. Head from there to the gym for the first time in over two months
8. Make up for all that lost time and all those atrophied muscles in one workout*
9. Sign an international supermodel contract*
10. Read the fine print

* delusions may vary

There is SO. MUCH. TO. UNPACK. HERE.

Where to start?

1. What's the fucking point of this whole rage tweet?
2. There is no hyphen used or implied anywhere in this entire alphabet soup.
3. What the hell is "Liddle" supposed to mean?
4. Is it supposed to be some kind of colloquial abbreviation for "little"?
5. Are you trying to make "Little" happen as your attempt to create yet another puerile, wannabe-demeaning nickname for someone whose superior intelligence you resent?
6. Note to trump and trump supporters: "Colloquial" means "not formal or literary."
7. Note to trump and trump supporters: "Puerile" means "childish or trivial."
8. See: trump
9. See also: trump supporters
10. The standard abbreviation for "little" is "li'l."
11. With an APOSTROPHE.
12. NOT A HYPHEN.
13. HOW DO YOU EVEN REMEMBER THE PROCEDURE FOR WIPING YOUR OWN ASS EVERY DAY?
14. People who graduated reasonably sober from third grade know that you put an apostrophe where letters have been removed in an abbreviation.
15. NOT A HYPHEN.
16. Don't get me started on why "little" isn't abbreviated as "li'l'."
17. "Liddle" is just substituting d's for t's and doesn't require an apostrophe.
18. And it's actually almost beneath your limited intellectual capacities.
19. Which have no bottom.
20. So never mind.
21. Instead of those non-essential apostrophes, however, "Liddle" does require a marriage to a cousin.
22. And griddled possum at the wedding reception.
23. Or maybe grittled.
24. WHY IS THIS THE MOST IMPORTANT THING TO YOU TO RAGE TWEET ABOUT AT 4:02 AM WHEN YOU'RE LITERALLY BEING IMPEACHED FOR TREASON?
25. DO YOU EVEN FUCKING UNDERSTAND WHAT'S HAPPENING TO YOU?
26. DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU DID?
27. DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND THE GRAVITY OF THE SITUATION?
28. Clearly not.
29. You don't even understand rudimentary punctuation.
30. Note to trump and trump supporters: "Rudimentary" means "limited to basic principles" or "an immature, undeveloped form."
31. And I'm sure the irony is completely lost on you.
32. Because it's not even hyphenated.

Shirts I have found while excavating:

• Social Climbers team T-shirt for the BEST-NAMED *EVER* Hustle up the Hancock stair-climbing team
• (motto: We like it on top)
• AIDS Marathon team tank top that I personalized with GO JAKE GO
• (Putting GO JAKE GO on the front of your marathon shirt is like giving a handy script to 26.2 miles of people who are ready and willing to cheer you on at the tops of their lungs)
• The back of the T-shirt I wore for my first marathon
• (Putting MY FIRST MARATHON on the back of your first marathon shirt guarantees 26.2 miles of back slaps and atta-boys from every runner who passes you)
• The GO JAKE GO T-shirt I wore for many subsequent Chicago Marathons
• The GO JAKE GO T-shirt I wore for the New York Marathon
• (New Yorkers always wear black)
• (Because they’re all artists and tortured intellectuals who snap when they hear poetry)
• My Pigman Triathlon T-shirt
• (The pig head used to glow in the dark)
• My Forever Plaid T-shirt
• (That’s me on the bottom)
• (Notice it doesn’t say GO JAKE GO)
• (Because the character I played was named Smudge)
• (But that’s the only reason)

Monday errands

1. When I make a friendly, chatty Jake JokeTM to you, Mr. Menards Return Desk Guy, in the course of our business transaction, it is customary that you actually NOT look at me as though I had just punched my arm down your throat, grabbed your vestigial tail and yanked you inside out. The Bare Minimum Of Customer Service Handbook CLEARLY AND UNAMBIGUOUSLY STATES that you owe me a wan smile of acknowledgement.

2. Dear extremely handsome guy behind the Menards paint counter: In your obstinate refusal to make eye contact with ANY customers, you missed a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to have me ask you to show me your caulk.

3. I got a haircut that is both au courant and Hello, Dolly! period-appropriate.

4. If you’re missing your pastel ear plugs, they’re by the cart return in the west-side Menards parking lot.

Wandelprobe (noun)

1. A choreographed rehearsal that merges orchestra, vocals and sometimes body microphones for the first time in the production of a musical; 2. A vaguely naughty-sounding German word that though it may initially seem like it, it doesn't really lend itself to clever sexual innuendo and don't even think you're going to come up with the elusive and brilliantly definitive "probe" joke because millions of very talented and clever and profoundly disturbed actors and singers before you have exhausted every last possibility a thousand times over; 3. THE COOLEST REHEARSAL OF EVERY SHOW OF YOUR LIFE PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE; 4. I'm wearing my fake-lifeguard shirt today to make all the bikini models hurl themselves prostrate at my sandy, well-tanned feet; 5. That has nothing to do with Wandelprobe but I didn't have any other place to fit it in today.

One corner of the bedroom is DONE! Maybe.

1. When you coincidentally buy pieces of décor that look like they were made to go exactly together, it is pre-ordained by a mountain of cruel, angry gods that THEY WILL NEVER LINE UP.
2. If you buy something with patterned cutouts laid over mirror, get used to living with clouds of oily smudges or learn to decorate for distraction.
3. When you discover the evidence of a lifetime predilection for buying Francophile wall hangings and Eiffel Tower objets d’art, group them proudly and enjoy them over les casse-croûte of French toast and Châteauneuf-du-Pape.
4. Yes, that is Prince Albert in a can.

Apparently I have an alert fan

1. Bitch Kitty heard my car pull up tonight and stood in rapt attention like this until I came in the door!
2. Mom took this artfully composed, figure-flattering photo to document the event.
3. THEN! BITCH! KITTY! SAT! NEXT! TO! ME! AND! LET! ME! PET! HER!
4. For about 34 seconds.
5. Mom also documented this event with a number of photos.
6. But I looked fat in every one of them so they are wisely not seeing the harsh backlit light of technology.
7. But still ...
8. PROGRESS!

"wHy cAn'T wE Do tHaT?"

1. Because it's a stupidly dangerous idea
2. Because a nuclear bomb would need to be surrounded by tons of additional air that we have no way of moving on that scale to affect just the eye of a hurricane
3. Because a hurricane's tradewinds would spread the nuclear fallout on a far more massive scale over water and land and create catastrophic environmental devastation
4. Because the idea was first presented and quickly shot down in 1959 for these very reasons
5. BECAUSE A RUDIMENTARY GOOGLE SEARCH WOULD TELL YOU THIS FASTER THAN YOU COULD SPUTTER OUT THE DUMBASS GIBBERISH IN THIS QUOTE

LITANY OF DEMANDS

1. Laundered socks will reunite on their own like Cary Grant and Debra Kerr in An Affair to Remember but sooner and with no off-screen auto accidents or racist music recitals.
2. Smoke alarms with dying batteries will not chirp so randomly that you can’t figure out which ones need rebatterying but will instead shout HEY! OVER HERE! THIS ONE! MARCO ... MARCO ... MARCO ... POLO! YOU FOUND ME! NOW REPLACE MY BATTERY!
3. I will finally master the “bowler brim” verse of “Put On Your Sunday Clothes.”

Flexinations!

1. I just had my annual physical.
2. It turns out I am NOT—despite physical appearances to the contrary—pregnant.
3. Those of you who decided I was pregnant—even silently to yourselves—are just rude.
4. RUDE.
5. I’ve known my doctor since we were in middle school.
6. He just touched my bits.
7. It wasn’t awkward.
8. Not at all.
9. NOT. AT. ALL.
10. HE. TOUCHED. MY. BITS.
11. But I didn’t get pregnant.
12. It’s already flu-shot season.
13. Seriously.
14. VACCINES CAUSE NOT DYING.
15. So my body is now coursing with flu germs.
16. HE TOUCHED MY BITS.
17. Not awkward.
18. As the flu-shot nurse was setting out her supplies before injecting me with flu germs, I asked if instead of her boring Band-Aid she might have a Superman Band-Aid.
19. I was just being silly.
20. BUT SHE HAD ONE.
21. So now my flu-germy arm is also a flu-germy bird and a flu-germy plane.
22. And it can leap tall buildings in a single bound.
23. Of course I needed to take a picture of it.
24. The flexing was totally accidental.
25. Because I would NEVER do that on purpose.
26. 🙄
27. That’s my favorite emoji!
28. HE TOUCHED MY BITS.

Well, shit

I was THIS CLOSE to posting that I’d gone all day without having a bandage on my wrist with nobody noticing my still-hideous-but-no-longer-gaping wound UNTIL! someone who will not be named (because she isn’t on Facebook so there’s really no reason to shame her here there or here) noticed as we were leaving rehearsal tonight.

(Apparently I’d at one point very creatively described my wound to her as looking like a vagina because her first observation was that it doesn’t look like a vagina. I’d truly forgotten that I’d ever made that comparison. But I cannot disagree with the poetic imagery.)

So the key takeaways here are:
1. My wound is so much better that I feel safe leaving it unbandaged for a day.
2. It’s still gross enough, though, that I’m politely refraining from posting a photo of it here for fear you’d vomit all over yourself when you innocently scrolled by it.
3. HOLY SHIT DONALD TRUMP IS SO FUCKING BBEEYYOONNDD OFF THE RAILS TODAY WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH HIM OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

The bitch is badass in his new haircut

1. My haircut guy had me try a side part and I really like it.

2. I love Miles Davis and I love you, KCCK, but “Bitches Brew” is a horrible soundtrack for trying to take a decent hair selfie in my car. And OK, I’ll just say it: “Bitches Brew” is icky and I really never need to hear it again.