Guess who’s now parking at the far end of the lot so nobody will ding his precious new baby

Guess who’s now anthropomorphizing his mighty new car as a helpless infant.

Guess who’s been at the gym for half an hour and already fallen in love seven times.

Guess who just took more than 10 gym selfies in an attempt to find one that’s suitable for public display.

Guess whose super-cute Wolverine shirt keeps riding up over his bloated dad belly like he’s a turgid dirigible.

GUESS WHO CLAIMS TURGID DIRIGIBLE AS A BAND NAME.

We’re only an hour into our first Oklahoma! rehearsal and after many grueling rounds of auditions and callbacks I’ve already snagged the coveted first chorus solo

WATCH AND LEARN, LESSER CASTMATES. WATCH AND LEARN.

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.

Look at this pretty tree!

WAIT—is that my awesome new car under it? How on earth did it get in this photo? DID I MENTION I HAVE AN AWESOME NEW CAR?

I haven’t had a car payment in 15 years. BUT I DO NOW!

The transmission in my trusty silver 2004 Kia Spectra started feeling a bit iffy this week. And the rust spots over the rear tires were growing so big they’d been issued their own ZIP code.

So my sister—my sweet, sweet sister who turns into a take-no-prisoners pit bull when she buys a car—and I headed out this morning JUST TO LOOK at cars ... and five hours later I came home with a shiny new MEGA HIGH TECH black 2020 Kia Forte.

TWENTY. TWENTY. My car is so shiny and new it hasn’t even been built yet.

AND!

Once the car was all mine and I started it and turned on my shiny new SXM Broadway channel to accompany my first official drive in my shiny new car, SXM WAS PLAYING XANADU, which as we all know is the best show ever.

IT. WAS. ALL. FORETOLD.

Live-blogging the debates

Pete: I don’t feel like you’re getting a fair amount of screen time tonight.

Kamala: I feel like you’re getting even less.

Joe: You stutter and stammer like you’ve spent all of seven seconds preparing for this debate.

Beto: You’re still here?

Elizabeth: I normally love you but you seem a little stabby toward people tonight. It’s beneath you.

Andrew: Decriminalize opioids? I think that’s going to require a little more nuance to sell as a viable policy proposal.

Anderson: CALL ME.

Tulsi: No.

Anderson: WHY HAVEN’T YOU CALLED?

Pete: Your lashing-out at Beto about courage is out of character for you.

Cory: I always agree with you, I always like you ... but I can never find anything interesting to say about you.

Julián: I always agree with you, I always like you ... but I can never find anything interesting to say about you.

Amy: Why did your people just call us in the middle of the debate? Are they not watching you right now?

Everyone: You’re all a little wobbly at directly answering the questions you’re asked.

Bernie: I pretty much always agree with you. But you’re yelly and disconcertingly old and please groom someone younger and less abrasive to carry your torch.

Tom: I’m wary of the personal influence of your personal wealth on your policies, so I’m equally wary of your populist messages. But I’m listening ...

Everyone: Please shut up when your time is up.

Joe: I admire and appreciate your vast political experience, but more and more it feels like it’s creating baggage and distraction.

Tulsi: No.

Andrew: You’re an example of how a REAL businessman knows REAL things and how they can thoughtfully, practically, REALLY work. I have faith in you.

Ron Reagan: Ballsy ad buy.

Elizabeth: I greatly admire your knowledge, intelligence and preparedness. You set the bar high.

Tom: YES! Take on trump and crush the shithole.

Cory: Nice dig at trump’s health. I hope he chokes on his bile and dies.

Marianne: Why aren’t you here tonight? Too weird?

Joe: You meander and stumble like a trump when you talk. I’m concerned.

Kamala: You’re so freaking smart and I love your take-no-bullshit prosecuting-attorneyness. I’d be proud to call you President.

Pete: I’d still be prouder to call YOU President.

Anderson: I DON’T CARE IF YOU’RE IN THE MIDDLE OF MODERATING A DEBATE. YOU OWE ME A CALL. I’M NOT GETTING ANY YOUNGER OR PRETTIER HERE.

Pete: How did I miss your proposal to expand the Supreme Court? I’m skeptical, but I believe in you and your thinking so I’m listening ...

IS IT ME OR DOES PETE KEEP GETTING CUT OFF SOONER THAN EVERYONE ELSE WHEN HE GETS TIME TO SPEAK? IS HE BEING PENALIZED FOR HAVING THE MOST ADORABLE HUSBAND?

Pete: “That’s not how donald trump got within cheating distance of the White House in the first place.” I LOVE YOU.

I have to pee and I’m tired. I may have to cut this short. Tell me if I miss a big splashy production number or something at the end.

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!

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

Flashback Friday: Bow Ties And Billowy Pleats Edition

This—THIS!—is what I thought was acceptable attire for setting foot in Washington DC's Kennedy Center to see Tyne Daly in the 1989 revival of Gypsy. (Early non-linear side note: You never forget your first Gypsy. And while I don't l-o-o-o-o-o-v-e the show like other card-carrying-Platinum gays, I still love Tyne Daly as Rose more than any other women I've seen in the role since then. And that includes Patti. Because she's never met a vowel she couldn't chew into a meaty, puddingy, distractingy triphthong.)

Anywho ... THAT OUTFIT ...

Nothing says "I sit down to pee" quite as efficiently as a bow tie. I taught myself to tie a bow tie when I was in high school, while all the other kids were doing more useful things like—oh, I don't know—hanging out with each other and forming meaningful friendships. I thought my little Madras plaid bow tie made me look so throwback-non-conformist hip 'n' cool that I went out and bought a bunch more bow ties in all kinds of colors and patterns. Which makes this plaid one my gateway bow tie. One reason I was so good at tying bow ties was those glasses. Their lenses were so expansively huge—like the much-ballyhooed-about-to-be-launched Hubble telescope!—that I barely had to bend my neck to look down and see what I was doing. And as we all know, efficiency is the DNA of questionable fashion. You can't see it clearly here, but I also had a coordinating Madras plaid watch band. As in a bow-tie-matching watch band made of sweat-absorbing-and-quickly-gross fabric. BUT THAT'S NOT ALL! I somehow decided it was totally-probably-sexy-cool to wear it with the watch face ON THE INSIDE OF MY WRIST. Because WHO THE HELL DOES THAT? And let's not overlook those voluminous pleated khakis—not that we could ever tear our eyes away from the uncharted galaxies of animal-balloon space they occupied around my wispy little goblin hips. They were from The Gap, see, and I'd had a bit of an inferiority complex as a younger person that—and I am not making this up—made me feel not cool enough to shop at The Gap. I'd literally walk by it at the then-fancy Westdale Mall and feel awkward and panicked and a little bit resentful. Do not fear: My therapist has been alerted. Anyway, one fateful day I scrounged up the courage to wince timidly into that Gap and find the men's section (which in the gender-bendy '80s wasn't clearly delineated to me as I entered the store) and immediately found these dream pants with all their essential dream details: classic khaki coloring, heavy cotton poplin (a natural fiber! in the '80s! I KNOW!) (also: like every socially awkward fashionista, I knew what poplin was as a young gaylet ... and why it was more laid-back-casual-and-therefore-better than twill) (also: twill is for librarians who aren't allowed to sit with the other librarians at lunch), voluminous pleats, super-dramatic taper, securely tacked ankle-strangling cuffs. TOTAL MEGA COOL-KIDS FASHION. And I'm pretty sure I was wearing my white suede bucks with red fake-rubber soles with them. Because PLEASE BEAT ME UP I'M SUPER '80s GAY.

So let's review:

Face-swallowing glasses + perfectly puckered plaid bow tie + inside-out sweaty watch + pleats with their own ZIP codes + legs tapered in the shape of super-pointy ice-cream-cones = man who goes to the theater to see angsty-gay-anthem-filled musicals with his mom. Every time.

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

Another weekend of Hello, Dolly! performances is over

If you’re on the fence about seeing us because of potential OSHA hygiene violations, be known that Theatre Cedar Rapids is so hardcore method that the Harmonia Gardens waiters have to wash our hands in the dressing room before we report to work on the stage. YOU CAN REST ASSURED THAT WE WILL NEVER GET SHOW-TUNEY ACTOR GERMS ON YOUR PLASTIC FOOD OR HOT-GLUED CHAMPAGNE FLUTES.

SURE THING!

This shirt seemed like a versatile, suitable-for-all-occasions chemise when I found it for $5 on an Old Navy tumble table way back when Old Navy was relevant and people actually said “tumble table.”

Now I find it slightly problematic for places like work and public locations in general ... so instead I’m wearing it backstage at a wholesome musical cast with legions of corruptible kids who see me as a plausible role model.

But, hey: FIVE DOLLARS

Also: Don’t judge my floofy, savagely untamed hair here; I was freshly showered and rolling my leg injuries as I took this selfie and I hadn’t yet styled my coiffure for our wholesome musical cast with legions of corruptible kids who see me as a plausible role model. SO DON’T BLAME ME WHEN THEY GROW UP TO BE DAMN COMMIE SOCIALIST HIPPIES.

Also: FIVE DOLLARS

Getting all the waiters together for a photo on the Hello, Dolly! Harmonia Gardens staircase has to happen at intermission when the staircase is assembled and we’re all in our waiter uniforms at the same time

But the “getting all the waiters together” part is insanely complicated given the fact that all the other waiters (but not me!) are distracted LSD-vaping kittens chasing hallucinatory laser dots all over the theater (allegedly) and impossible to get all in one place at one time if there isn’t a downbeat involved.

BUT LAST NIGHT I DID IT!

Unfortunately, the stage curtain prevented our photographer from backing up far enough to get the actual staircase in the photo and the intermission lighting left the back rows in increasingly gradient shadows.

BUT I DID IT!

Maybe I’ll try tonight to get everyone lined up for a shot from one side of the staircase à la the Brady Bunch kids (HINT! HINT!). Or maybe I’ll vape LSD with everyone (allegedly) and demonstrate my super-kitten powers at finally catching the elusive red dot instead.

Note to future historians: The second-to-top row of waiters here is standing on the staircase’s official Jake StepTM. We left an engraved bronze plaque on it to mark the location and commemorate the dedication. Please see that our estate keeps it burnished and respectfully lit in perpetuity.

My Hello, Dolly! costumes are pre-set deep in the underbelly of the Iowa Theater Building

They're so deep that we gradually lose melanin from lack of sun exposure and get altitude sickness and nosebleeds every time we ascend (slowly, so as not to get the bends) and emerge back on the stage.

Anywho, each set of costumes is organized in order of how I put them on:

shirt > tie (if applicable) > pants (always applicable) > vest (ditto) > coat (usually applicable) > joyful smile (by contractual obligation)

And then in order of Act I songs:

It Takes a Woman (in earthy, workaday blues) > Put On Your Sunday Clothes (in MEGA AWESOME PINK SEERSUCKER) > Dancing (in a geometric explosion of Vermeer blues) > Before The Parade Passes By (you’ll just have to come see that costume now, won’t you?)

On a nearby concrete plateau that echoes with the trickles of a sub-sub-sub-terranean cistern: assorted hats and bottles of Gatorade.

Because I AM NOTHING IF NOT PREPARED.

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.

You know why my day is better than yours?

BECAUSE I HAVE A FRESH BOX OF KLEENEX.

Never mind that it’s off-brand. And that I have a bit of a cold. Those pesky details just ruin my narrative.

Find the old guy who can't jump as high as all those kids

THEN FIND YOUR WAY TO THEATRE CEDAR RAPIDS TO SEE OUR MEGA HELLA KILLER AMAZING SHOW.

Crap we’ve found in old boxes:

A little hand loom for making hot pads and stuff with a photo of two sailors exchanging hand-loomed purses under the BIG LIE WORD “straits”

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.

Goodnight, Jakey

When you turn down two invitations to post-performance get-togethers because you’re exhausted and in dire need to sleep but you grab an ice-cold sparkling water when you get home and turn on your Roku YouTube channel just to unwind for a few minutes and then you get sucked into a vortex of Vox education videos and Dancing Through My Broadway Résumé profiles and now it’s freaking 4:00 am and WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH MY SENSE OF GOOD JUDGEMENT but through it all your show hair has stayed faithfully on point.