Sadly, the Minnesotan transplant everyone teased for her doncha-know’s and you-betcha’s has shed most of her melodic midwestern accent. But she at least now speaks with a confidence to match her towering height, only occasionally slipping into her usual and frazzled self.

Riley goes on to tell me about her coworkers at a fancy restaurant I’ve never heard of, using words I’ve never heard come out of her’s or anyone else’s mouth.

Apparently, she’s been fawning over a hostess at work she’s described as a “bratty futch tease.” My bestie asks how I would ask this lady out but isn’t sure a “…Pillow princess like that could appreciate a Viking dyke.”

I have no idea what she’s talking about, but it’s the first time I’ve seen her this happy, and if could put a word on it, unapologetically gayer.