It was the best of times the worst of times. Last minute hotel reservations during the busiest weekend of the year in San Francisco sucked. We ended up in an armpit of a Roadhouse and they gouged us $190. to stay in the heap for one night. I'm just happy that i'm not all itchy today.
Delores Park was full of sunshine and queers in a Babylonian babe-land. The best outfits you will ever see in your life occur there every year. I just love to pop a squat with my gf and drink beers and watch the on slot. There's always some sort of drama like seeing an old flame with their newbie or your girlfriends last crush before you came along. I met my ex girlfriends new girlfriend and I brought my girlfriend and we all had dinner at a great little pub on Mission St. That wasn't the drama though. So and so broke up with so and so nine months ago and one could not stand to see the other. We were caught on the fence for a hot minute between the enemy and the comfortable crowd on the lawn. Butt-hurt was all wasted giving means looks and flipping the bird. We were kindly accepted in the lawn crowd once we could slink in. After that it was more of a homecoming/family reunion.
I really dig the marches. Even the ones as pathetic as Santa Cruz Dyke march. It makes me feel a little weird that people are watching us like we are some clowns walking down the street. Do I look like a clown? Do I amuse you?? (last two lines I was channeling Talia Rizzi) I just feel happy. Gay.