So the night started with me tweeting my personal phone number and my reluctance to meet Steve’s crew to 1660 people. ¹

Why hello, this is called overshare.

I got over my shyness and made a guest appearance at the19 Bar.² Steve and I engaged in the usual amount cattiness and ignored the squirrelly guy smiling wildly from across the bar.  What a shame! I forgot to bring my walnuts to feed the wildlife…

After the 19 I walked Harley³ around the block near my apartment. Harley and I ran into a pair of trannies⁴ off of Lyndale. Of course one, Tranisha, had to stop and talk to the dog. Her friend kept walking:

Tranisha: “Oh look! A puppy! What is his name?”
Me: “Harley.”
Tranisha: “Oooh Harley! You have a face only a mother could love!”
Me: “Awe…he’s not that bad.”
Tranisha: “Well. Heh. I think you should paint his nails with glittery colors! And get him one of those rhinestone collars!”
Me: “I don’t know about that…”
Tranisha: “I had a friend with a poodle, and  he would dye that poodle pink all the time with food coloring! And that thing got so mad that it would not come out of the house for days!”
Me: “Well dying your dog is a big process…and blow drying afterwards must be horrible…”
Tranisha: “I think the dog knew it was pink. And it didn’t want to be gay. You can’t make your dog gay!”
Me: “I suppose.”
Tranisha: “You have something hanging out yo’ pocket.”
Me: “Oh, that’s the doggy bag.”
Tranisha: “Oh! To pick up his shit? I wish I had that! Doggy! I wish I was you! When I die I want to come back as a dog and have you pick up my shit!”
(I’m speechless… NO clue how respond to that one)
Tranisha: “So what’s your name?”

My name? My name is hells-to-the-nah.

Earlier this week I was at the 19 Bar with Jack and we had a definite hells-to-the-nah moment. There was this bulky Asian guy with a skunky-looking spot-bleached Mohawk-rat-tail going on. (I know that’s a mouth-full, but it was an eye-full too okay?)

Skunky was making rounds and harassing everyone who even remotely made eye contact. So of course when I came back from the bath room Jack was all, “OH MY GOD THE SKUNK TRIED TO TALK TO ME!”

Me: “What happened?”
Jack: “The second you left for the restroom the skunk came over and stood by the table and SIGHED! He didn’t talk, he just sighed. I didn’t make eye contact and tried my best bitch-please look. And he would not go away! I had a sigh-machine latched to the table for like TWO minutes!”

Oh my goodness. So of course about 20 minutes later, Skunky had to make his move on both of us. Skunky sashays up and:

Skunky: “Blab la bla yardar yardar.”
Me (looking unamused): “Oh. Well, that happens.”
(I then look away hoping he would go away.)
Skunky: “Are you two a couple?”
(Jack and I exchange a panicked look.)
Jack: “UH YES! YES WE ARE!”
Me: “Uh. Yes. What he said…yes. We are. A couple. Dearly and all that…”
(Jack  and I then clasp hands to show Skunky our new-found devotion.)
Skunky: “Awe…for-ever?”
Me: “For-eva eva!”
Skunky: “UGGGGGGH That’s a so sad.”

He then storms off and clings to some unamused 50-something.

Skunky and Tranisha are good examples of what we call “a hot mess.” A hot mess is someone who displays socially unacceptable behavior so often that his or her “friends” no longer  attempt to correct it.

When I accidentally tweeted⁵ my phone number I got dozens of (much appreciated) direct messages to the tune of “WTF JANSEN?!”

The significance of perfect strangers⁶ direct messaging me like that implies that I have some sort of reputation for propriety. Sure, the mere existence of social media scandalizes a good portion of the legal community – and a personal blog like No.634? Gasp. But there are standards, and when standards are established and transgressed, people notice.

It’s time to worry when people⁷ stop noticing flubs and let the tragedy go on. No one stopped Skunky, and Tranisha’s friend kept walking down the block as she started talking to me… this is the difference between a tirade from Courtney Love vs. one from Courteney Cox. It’s expected from Love, but shocking from Cox.

The point is that people (friends or strangers) will have your back if you show them that you care about propriety. They will have your back even during your messy moments as long as they feel that you are not a lost cause. That type of notice is important – and we should thank them – because friends keep us from becoming the proverbial hot mess that gets a nickname or a TMZ feature.

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¹ It wasn’t a huge deal since my number is on dennis-jansen.com. But still, oops.
² My neighborhood dose of tragic..Steve and I are catty, but not cruel. The worst nicknames were “Starvin Marvin” for a 6’2 guy who was all of 112 pounds, and “Zelda” for his elf-ish looking friend with the ridiculously huge blond hair.
³ I worked for 10 hours yesterday so I had to take him on a super-quick walk before I went to the bar too…we went for the longer walk when I came back…
⁴ By this I mean transsexuals – as in, men who had surgery to look like women…but you can tell it’s a man. And actually, Tranisha REALLY looked like the one from the famous-TMZ fight…but there’s NO way… nonono…
⁵ And to be fair, I think it was a twhirl issue… but nonetheless… it was my fault for not double-checking.
⁶ And some non-strangers like @butterflyfish @iamfrankanthony and @hugobell were among the first…
⁷ Hot messes aren’t lonely. They frequently have entourages, but some crews laugh with you, others at you. Just as Nicole Kidman’s entourage is different than Flavor Flav’s.