OMG

Every Good Boy Does Fart After Eating Burrito Beans

#WeirdStuffICollectOnMyPhone

How can they see with ... um ... cat ... butt ... in their eyes?

#WeirdStuffICollectOnMyPhone

Exhibit A

When you work in a fashion photography/copy/advertising studio and you’re gearing up for the holidays—yes, THOSE holidays ... because we advertising folks start celebrating Christmas in August—and the company wants to give you a little pre-holiday-rush boost AND OH MY GOD LOOK AT THIS INSANELY COOL, ON-TREND FASHIONABLE AND LITERALLY TASTEFUL (HA! LITERALLY TASTEFUL!) CAKE

#same

Because if I don’t really have the time to be in rehearsals for one show, I might as well start rehearsals for TWO

I’m home

After a week filled with dear friends both old and new, a new dog you’re all lucky I didn’t dognap, favorite haunts, new museums, historical learnings that I’m still processing, a 5K along a gorgeous ocean boardwalk, delicious cooking, gallons of Diet Coke, the endless magical convenience of Uber in an unfamiliar city, and a Charlotte-to-Cedar-Rapids flight that looped over to Omaha to avoid what looks to have been an epic storm, I am home and happy and thankful and sleepy and ready to resume my regularly scheduled adventures at dawn. Good night!

SPOILER ALERTS:

The Lusitania sinks. There’s a war. Everyone eventually dies. I give the VERY AWESOME book to someone else to enjoy. Sondheim writes a breathtaking show that gives me the gay shudders. I start reading the book about it for the second time. I regret bringing a massive gallon of already-watery-already-flat Diet Coke on my plane home.

So ... burning man ...

Sometimes carefully laid plans for a weirdly cool Burning Man exhibit at the Renwick followed by a pilgrimage to see the Obama portraits at the National Portrait Gallery turn into a mostly-chatting-and-half-paying-attention-to-the-arty-stuff wander through the Renwick followed by three hours of catching up at (don’t laugh) TGI Friday’s (I SAID DON’T LAUGH) with a long-lost high-school friend who is now a hella-cool adult friend who will corroborate your story that your TGI Friday’s waitress was probably the shittiest waitress ever to work on a Friday or any other day and I seriously can’t remember the last time I’ve ever left a bad tip for anyone and I used to wait tables so I ALWAYS tip extremely generously and Gareth was my first-ever crush and I just had lunch with him but I’m burying this information deep in this blathery run-on sentence so you probably skipped over that part and saved us all a bottomless swamp of paralyzing awkwardness how ‘bout them Hawkeyes I’m on vacation puppies are cute THIS PART IS IN ALL CAPS anyway where was I oh yeah the Burning Man exhibit was truly cool and breathtaking and informative for those of us who until today had no earthly idea what the hell Burning Man is even about and I totally recommend it but we both heartily do NOT recommend the nearby TGI Friday’s (STOP IT WITH YOUR DERISIVE LAUGHING) especially the slimy booth that had a metal plate over the junction box where the sconce had mysteriously been removed Exhibit A: First Selfie and catching up with Gareth was truly an awesome way to end a truly awesome vacation even through we never got to the National Portrait Gallery but we did get a selfie in front of a nearby George Washington bust Exhibit B: Second Selfie don’t worry I told him a long time ago that he was my first-ever crush and his wife has reportedly come to terms with it and is totally not threatened by me OR IS SHE and he swears it’s not awkward anymore but let the record show HE WAS THE FIRST TO BRING IT UP TODAY BUT IT’S TOO LATE THAT SHIP HAS SAILED SO STOP MAKING IT WEIRD GARETH and the Obama portraits will have to wait until next summer but except for our gaspingly inept waitress today this trip has been pretty awesome.

Another day of DC architectural touristing begins!

THERE IS SO MUCH GOING ON IN THIS SELFIE!

1. Mike.
2. Oops. I probably should explain that Mike is a friend of mine who has many cats.
3. Oh—and he’s one of my many super-awesome DC friends, and I can’t imagine coming here without seeing him.
4. We toured the National Museum of African American History and Culture—which I have SO MUCH to say about—this afternoon and then had dinner and then took this selfie before we parted ways.
5. But look at that little dot that’s artfully centered at the vanishing point of the streets between us ...
6. It’s the dome of the Capitol!
7. We did that because we’re both artsy and civic-minded.
8. But not because Mike has three cats.
9. THREE.
10. Also: Notice the artful placement of Mike’s head ...
11. IT’S TOTALLY BLOCKING THE STABLE GENIUS HOTEL!
12. You’re welcome.
13. Let’s see: Mike ... unmanly amounts of cats ... totally cool friend ... Capitol with an O ... artful vanishing-point composition ... the hotel that shall not be named ... THREE CATS ... hmmm ... what’s left?
14. Oh yeah: I TOTALLY STABBED A DUDE.
15. I mean with my straw.
16. I mean with the placement of my straw relative to the locations of my iPhone and the orange-shirted dude behind me.
17. So not STABBED stabbed.
18. So don’t call the police.
19. THREE CATS.
20. None of which he brought with him today.

Trying to take a normal, respectable, youthfully handsome selfie in this town is impossible with all these damn monuments everywhere you look

This sunken sculpture garden is my favorite place—which houses my favorite sculpture—in DC

It's hidden in plain sight on the Mall side of the Hirshhorn, and it provides quiet sanctuary—and welcome shade—on molten, touristy days like today. I'm not really sure what started making this sculpture—Rodin's epic "Burghers of Calais"—so particularly meaningful to me. It’s most likely the piece that finally unlocked the aesthetic, artistic and historical secrets of the broader Modernist movement for me when I took a college art-history class: its raw, muscular composition ... its marriage of Realism (which sought to represent human figures as they are instead of idealizing them) and the last dying gasps of Romanticism (the very emotion-wrought idealization that the Realists were striving to overcome) ... its accessibility from any educational and even physical perspective ... it’s just so many things on so many levels, including my newfound levels of understanding the movement. I should state that this dual Realism/Romanticism classification is solely my interpretation of the genres and the transition between them, but you cannot deny that the oversized figures in this sculpture are muscular and handsome and to a large degree idealized while still being rough-hewn, misshapen and out of proportion.

The figures are six men being led to their death to liberate the French town of Calais in the Hundred Years' War, which adds layers of fascinating historical content onto the reasons I love the work. I find it all at once intimate and epic, unfinished and uneditable, and abstract and representational, the latter of which has always been my preference in art and especially sculpture. So I make a pilgrimage to see it—I even sit in the same shady spot to contemplate it—every time I come to Rehoboth and DC. It's always a beautiful way to rest and rejuvenate and think and remember and see these decades-old friends in relative peace before my vacation ends and I head home.

I just had a conversation with someone—unfortunately, I can’t remember whom—about Chaucer—I’m not a fan; he is—but this cartoon is for you, mystyrie Chaucer lyker, whoevre you arre:

We’re celebrating our last evening in Rehoboth Beach eating sushi on couchy things at a restaurant named after a fish BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT THE OCEAN SET DOES

I’m so legendary here that they’ve named a closed seafood restaurant after me

BEHOLD MY OMEGAWESOMENESS:

Weird dogs are the best dogs

It’s not a delicious beach-house-vacation nap unless you have a seashells pillow and moons-and-stars sheets

Please remember to use your inside voices.

When I bold-caps-reverse-Comic-Sans MY staggeringly insincere condolences over the death of someone who has devoted his life to serving our country, I always end them with an exclamation point too

Oh—and I ALWAYS INCLUDE A PHOTO OF MYSELF.

I have one requirement when I visit Rehoboth Beach: crème brûlée french toast at GreenMan

Because it’s insanely yummy. And because it gives me a reason to use diacritics on my blog. Which in turn gives me a reason to say diacritics on my blog.

Bonus: We got porch seating, which is good because we’re sweaty pigs. Sweaty pigs who eat crème brûlée french toast.

We finished the race. But I haven’t finished my banana. If you know what I mean.

I of course need to photographically document the fact that I’m wearing my official licensed Jake’s Summer Of Running Away From Being 50 shirt for today’s beach boardwalk 5K before I get it too sweaty and gross to be in a respectable selfie

5K along the ocean!

from the left: guest gay, token chick, homo host, shirt sherpa, opportunistic photobomber, opportunistic photobomber

I just ate corn on the cob rubbed with lime instead of rolled in butter with grilled peaches for dessert. I AM SO CORRUPTED BY WEIRD EAST COAST VALUES.

Also: HOW MUCH DO WE ALL LOVE THIS DOG? (answer: more than can possibly be measured)

CO-IOWANS REPRESENTIN’ IN FRONT OF A GENUINE SEAFARIN’ REHOBOTH BEACH LIGHTHOUSE THAT’S TOTALLY NOT AN OCEANSIDE ROOFTOP PUTT-PUTT GOLF COURSE CHALLENGE, YO

Seriously

Aside from the fact that the Lusitania and the U-20 submarine—which is down to just three torpedoes—are now in the same waters off the Irish coast, could this be any more perfect?

Margo is sitting on my lap!

Well, OK—she’s sitting NEAR my lap. But that’s way more dog affection than I get from herds-not-cuddles Bridget. So I’ll take it.

They do both share a complete inability to look at a camera on command though. So I get THAT continuity.

Fun fact: Kellyanne Conway has given elevator eyes in a State Department hallway to someone on this porch

Other fun fact: We all ran for a Silkwood scrub the second we learned of this unholy horror.

Margo’s selfie game isn’t terribly strong

but her power for stealing all the love in a room when the cameras aren’t handy is spot-on.

Yeah

That would be the moon over the Atlantic shining behind us as we stroll along the ocean-breezy boardwalk. Life is good.

The sun has encroached on my porch-reading chaise longue

My lightly flavored sparkling water is consumed. The Lusitania is still defiantly afloat. Nap time is imminent.

The day is just PACKED.

Karma can be a dick

The house across the street from my reading porch is new and stately and handsome and suitably-New-England-architecturey, but it seems to have an epic design flaw:

How the hell are they going to replace the shingles between those smooshed-together dormers?

Also: The Lusitania has FINALLY set sail. Its safe passage to Liverpool is secured!

I’m trying to enjoy a lovely(ish) read about a doomed passenger ship

at the dawn of a world war that is hardly a “world” war as the entire southern hemisphere seems to have been a bit of an afterthought but anyway I’m trying to enjoy a lovely(ish) read on my favorite porch in the world (including the entire southern hemisphere because *I* don’t see the world through the arrogant, entitled lens of Northern European privilege) but it’s too darn close to the beach and people with cute dogs keep walking by.

I don’t know why a beach house would have a Merman room, especially when it’s decorated in mermaids. Coastal elites are weird.

I’m finally here: my favorite porch in the world! Let the relaxing begin ...

When you’re shopping for fresh produce and your band name finally reveals itself to you, YOU JUST KNOW

WHEELS DOWN! At the correct airport! Whose name is just NATIONAL, damnit!

The Lusitania is still afloat! My watch is still on Iowa time! Saying WHEELS DOWN just made me sound like a seasoned aviator!

Let the beachhousities begin!

VACCINES KILL

It’s true because it’s on a T-shirt worn by a completely-trustworthy-looking dude wandering Terminal E of Charlotte Douglas International Airport. The shirt is scarlet. As in fever.

Also: Charlotte Douglas International Airport is the size and shape of a charming-Belgian-hamlet-size spider squashed by Bob Fosse.

Also: I’m in the mood for a totally-not-abs-friendly snack, but I’ve trekked the full extent of Charlotte Douglas International Airport’s splayed-and-Fosse-angled spider legs and I haven’t seen a single damn gooeyfrostedcinnamonrollerie.

Also: I just followed a distractingly-latted-and-boyfriend-age-appropriate man in a contour-hugging gray T-shirt all the way from Terminal E to Terminal C on the far end of the Fosse-squashed charming-Belgian-hamlet-size Charlotte Douglas International Airport, but he stopped at Terminal C2 and I depart from Terminal C8.

Also: Stupid Terminal C8.

Also: My supposedly-auto-time-zone-synching running watch is refusing to auto-time-zone synch.

Also: Stupid supposedly-auto-time-zone-synching running watch.

Also: The cashier at Sbarro keeps aggressively demanding that every customer have a great day.

Also: DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO MY WATCH WON’T AUTOMATICALLY CHANGE TIME ZONES AND I ACTUALLY WANTED A GOOEY FROSTED CINNAMON ROLL INSTEAD OF YOUR SUSPICIOUSLY SUSPICIOUS PIZZA AND I JUST HAD TO SIT POINTLESSLY ON A TARMAC FOR 15 MINUTES AND GRAY SHIRT GUY IS FLYING TO DALLAS FORT WORTH YES I LOOKED IT’S TOTALLY NOT CREEPY SHUT UP AND MY PARENTS ARE TRYING TO VACCINATE ME TO DEATH SO IT’S WAAAAY BEYOND POSSIBLE FOR MEET YOUR AGGRESSIVE AND FRANKLY CRUEL GREAT-DAY DEMANDS.

WHAT IS THE POINT OF PROUDLY CELEBRATING THE FACT THAT YOU LANDED EARLY IF YOUR PLANE HAS TO WAIT ON THE TARMAC FOR THE OTHER PLANE AT YOUR GATE TO LEAVE BEFORE YOU PULL UP TO IT AT YOUR PLANNED ON-TIME-NOT-EARLY TIME?

Also: The Lusitania hasn’t sunk and I’m already on the fifth chapter. So I’m cautiously optimistic.

Also: Rogue-Iowan-in-Charlotte REPRESENT! Booyah!

My last vacation adventure started with a 19-hour-four-airport-plus-an-impromptu-four-hour-drive-with-total-strangers nightmare commute

This vacation adventure is starting with no Diet Coke in the you’re-trapped-here-and-this-is-your-only-option-I-hate-my-job-so-I’m-going-to-mumble-at-you-that’ll-be-shrvkorsln-dollars-please airport-gate kiosk.

I don’t know which is worse. All I can say is the damn Lusitania better not sink at the end of this book.

Also: Our gate agent just told us we have “free wi-fi available for purchase” on our flight.

Plus she just said we’re now boarding for our flight to Charlotte O’Hare.

Plus she pronounces it conci-air.

This commute is immeasurably worse.

My entire six-day DC/Rehoboth Beach vacation is somehow fitting into these two gym bags

But we all know the real reason I’m posting this photo is to show everyone my gorgeous on-clearance-ten-years-ago rug that I love so much I’m still hesitant to walk on it. Plus to show you that I’ve laid out my IOWA NATIVE T-shirt to wear on the plane to REPRESENT! Plus to give everyone a peek-a-boo look at the underpants I’m going to wear too. Because we all love saying underpants. Plus maybe to brag that I’m starting a six-day DC/Rehoboth Beach vacation tomorrow while you’ll continue to live your mousy-gray-blah lives of quiet desperation. Underpants!

If My Fair Lady takes place in London, why does our rehearsal taping look like a Chicago CTA map?

Check out my Atlantic-beach-house-vacation-starts-in-23-hours-and-I-want-to-look-distractingly-handsome-in-all-the-photos haircut!

Also: new STUDIO N T-shirt! Because NOWLEDGE! Or maybe NORDSTROM!

They’re back: the days of bringing my script to the office so I can magically absorb my lines as I work.

Also: Wild Cherry Pepsi. It’s not not for breakfast.

#WeirdCouchesUponWhichIHaveSat

Things isn't things