So it’s Gaye Pryde weekend here in SD. Last year at this time, we were at Boheme being repeatedly crushed by half-dressed rainbow crowds for hours on end.
Remember this moment? Good times. Good times.
And when your beloved is out of town and it’s Gaye Pryde weekend and the only parking in your neighborhood is in your private parking area — thank God! — and you live 3 blocks from the float staging area and 5 blocks from the start of the parade and you can still feel that crushing buzz in the air and you get up first thing to go to the store and people are driving like total loons all hopped up on pryde and you are greeted at the store by two giant bead-wearing Barry Manilow cut-outs propped up by the bottled water display, it’s probably best just to hunker down, you know?
Coffee. Movies. Magazines. Books. Pens. Paints. Laptop. Locked doors.
I’m hunkered. In my pajama bottoms and “Venti Schmenti” t-shirt.
sounds like a plan.
This is TOTALLY horrible, and I hope it isn’t indicative of some kind of sickness in my psyche, but I swear I thought your list read, “Coffee. Movies. Magazines. Books. Penis. Paints. Laptop. Locked doors.”
That’s just wack. Sorry.
Hahahaha. No, no penis. I was completely penis-less this weekend.
I’m sure that wasn’t true for most of my neighborhood though.