Full of Pride
This past weekend was Gay Pride in DC. In honor of this festive occasion, I've put together the Ten Things I Learned from Pride 2006:
1. The gay community is small. This is often a good thing in that we are a tight-knit group of folks who share common interests and while we may not all know each other, we've certainly all slept with the same people, most of whom you will inevitably bump into drunk in a bar at some point over the weekend.
2. 75 degrees is a much better environment for Pride festivities than 95 degrees. Though even cool 75 degree weather and Kimberly Locke is not enough to drag my ass out of bed and down to that festival on a Sunday.
3. Cut off jean shorts and leather thongs are unacceptable ensembles for any occasion that would require you to be in my presence. Cover up or go home! Also, if you are going to ride on a float for a local DC gym, at least look like you go to the gym.
4. Waiting in line for 20 minutes for the bathroom at JRs seriously eats into ones drinking and socializing time. Also, having bitchy queens snap at you for using the ladies room which "is reserved for ladies" is unnecessary. Especially when the male to female ratio is 10,000 fags : Patti behind the bar. Y'all fell free to wait in line but if the line for the ladies room is shorter and faster, I'm using it.
5. Drinking on the street is fun, regardless of the occasion. Getting struck in the head by a condom being thrown from a parade float while drinking on the street is embarrassing.
6. Gay men twirling batons is funny, I don't care what you think.
7. Vote for that old "lady" in the sequined red, white and blue leotard blowing on a bugle for Mayor of DC!
8. Cookie Buffet needs a new ensemble. That tired rainbow beehive and worn out faded black dress is DONE. Spice it up a bit or don't bother. If you're not sure how to do that, consult with Lena Lett...she clearly cares enough to try.
9. Do not, under any circumstances, prance down 17th Street for 2 hours on Sunday wearing the same outfit you had on the night before, which wasn't cute then and isn't cute now. Take your cracked out fag hag and your fake Christian Dior sunglasses and go home to shower and return when you can behave.
10. Pride = Parade of the exes. And the bitches who your ex slept with before he was your ex. It equals uncomfortable moments at the bar where both of these people are within 10 feet of you and you try desperately to act unphased, while your stomach churns and your heart sinks and you realize that your fantastic night is rapidly evaporating into a sloppy mess. Pride equals a weekend of drunken debauchery required by constantly being reminded that there are hotter guys than you who wouldn't give you the time of day if you were giving away handjobs in the bathroom at Cobalt. It equals a time where we gays come together and read people for their manner of dress or boyfriend of choice. While it is meant to be a weekend of celebration and joy, it essentially becomes a giant hangover where you realize that you're alone, a year older than last Pride and have the realization that being gay isn't always a fun thing.
1. The gay community is small. This is often a good thing in that we are a tight-knit group of folks who share common interests and while we may not all know each other, we've certainly all slept with the same people, most of whom you will inevitably bump into drunk in a bar at some point over the weekend.
2. 75 degrees is a much better environment for Pride festivities than 95 degrees. Though even cool 75 degree weather and Kimberly Locke is not enough to drag my ass out of bed and down to that festival on a Sunday.
3. Cut off jean shorts and leather thongs are unacceptable ensembles for any occasion that would require you to be in my presence. Cover up or go home! Also, if you are going to ride on a float for a local DC gym, at least look like you go to the gym.
4. Waiting in line for 20 minutes for the bathroom at JRs seriously eats into ones drinking and socializing time. Also, having bitchy queens snap at you for using the ladies room which "is reserved for ladies" is unnecessary. Especially when the male to female ratio is 10,000 fags : Patti behind the bar. Y'all fell free to wait in line but if the line for the ladies room is shorter and faster, I'm using it.
5. Drinking on the street is fun, regardless of the occasion. Getting struck in the head by a condom being thrown from a parade float while drinking on the street is embarrassing.
6. Gay men twirling batons is funny, I don't care what you think.
7. Vote for that old "lady" in the sequined red, white and blue leotard blowing on a bugle for Mayor of DC!
8. Cookie Buffet needs a new ensemble. That tired rainbow beehive and worn out faded black dress is DONE. Spice it up a bit or don't bother. If you're not sure how to do that, consult with Lena Lett...she clearly cares enough to try.
9. Do not, under any circumstances, prance down 17th Street for 2 hours on Sunday wearing the same outfit you had on the night before, which wasn't cute then and isn't cute now. Take your cracked out fag hag and your fake Christian Dior sunglasses and go home to shower and return when you can behave.
10. Pride = Parade of the exes. And the bitches who your ex slept with before he was your ex. It equals uncomfortable moments at the bar where both of these people are within 10 feet of you and you try desperately to act unphased, while your stomach churns and your heart sinks and you realize that your fantastic night is rapidly evaporating into a sloppy mess. Pride equals a weekend of drunken debauchery required by constantly being reminded that there are hotter guys than you who wouldn't give you the time of day if you were giving away handjobs in the bathroom at Cobalt. It equals a time where we gays come together and read people for their manner of dress or boyfriend of choice. While it is meant to be a weekend of celebration and joy, it essentially becomes a giant hangover where you realize that you're alone, a year older than last Pride and have the realization that being gay isn't always a fun thing.
posted by Carrie Broadshoulders at Monday, June 12, 2006
4 Comments:
1) regarding friday night's convo, you could hold a gun to my head and i still wouldn't be able to remember one thing that we talked about. thankfully i restricted myself to just two drinks at JRs on friday (which was all the cash in my wallet ... i told myself NO ATM before walking in).
Wow. I am aghast at how spot on #10 is, even though I don't have an ex.
I have the same mentality about a mens room at a club. Screw it. And honestly, the girls who DO use that bathroom would love you to join them.
aw. i loved that you mentioned patti. she's quite an icon on 17th st. hell, when someone dresses up as you for the High Heel Race...you've made it.
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