The first time I ever saw Jake the Snake, I was trying to introduce my first boyfriend to my father. But Dad wasn't having it. He was too busy pounding his fists and screaming at the TV while Jake the Snake shoved his boa constrictor into Ravishing Rick Rude's violently mustachioed face. Boyfriend was terrified. Years later, I saw Jim Rose with the same BF. We walked into the show just as Rose killed the lights and began chasing members of the audience with a flashlight and a chainsaw. Again, boyfriend terrified. I haven't thought of Jake or Jim in years. Most likely both have mellowed with age, though they're both still terrors. I'll be going without that boyfriend. He's still a pussy. Some things just don't change. (Showbox at the Market, 1426 First Ave, 628-0888. 8 pm, $15 adv/$18 DOS, 21+.)

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