Friday, July 09, 2004

You are not a strong black woman...

And so another Gay Pride Weekend has passed with as much fanfare as the passing of another bowel movement. Whatever happened to the glittering fabulousness or the raunchily orgiastic 3 day fuckfest that it used to be? Was it just me or did everyone else also decide that they would rather spend the night luxuriating between 600 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets...ASLEEP, as god herself intended for these sheets!

What exactly are we celebrating? Our right as flaming homos to be as boringly suburban as our breeder friends? All this talk of marriage, registries at Canadian Tire, recipe swapping, great tips on growing the perfect little organic herb garden and GASP!! adoption or DOUBLE GASP!!! inseminating a willing female friend. (we inseminate, we do NOT procreate!...haha)
How the tides have turned! Breeder friends used to listen in envy as i recounted naughty escapades and tell me how 'lucky i was that i dont have to put up with so much shit in order to get laid'. And now we just swap recipes and weigh the pros and cons of Minivans vs. SUVs (which i still loathe... but thats another topic)

One thing i have noticed, contrary to popular belief, the Circuit Party is not dead! Dear Barry Harris, can still reel in the beefcake. All he has to do is bring out his same old tired diva remixes. Now if only the organizers of that disasterous Pride Ball can get it right and not force thousands of circuit boys and wannabees to wait outside of an already dangerously overcrowded and underdecorated tin can. At least the washrooms inside were clean and spacious AND Chaka did her best to be heard over the near riot outside. "I feel for you...!", indeed!

I wonder if all of the tourists that came to watch the parade were hoping to see a steady stream of beautiful boys in their Blohniks, bare-assed leather men or mincy nancy boys (ala Jack). Instead, they got a couple of doods (and dood lookalikes, hello dykes!) clucthing their marriage certificates with the ink still wet and marching directly to the local Homo Depot to get the new garden edging that their double incomes can now afford.

Yes, perhaps i am jaded but you will have to forgive my impatience, I get cranky when my rotadendrum needs pruning and those damn racoons keep tipping over my garbage in search of that last bit of left over herb encrusted tuna steak that i baked last week...

1 Comments:

Blogger epicurist said...

Over the years, I have made the conscious note to self that the Parade is the same old every year. After 10 + years, not much has changed, unless you are on a float, which of course I opted not to do, since it was also the 1st year in 15 year that my whole family decided to go down entourage - ummm no thanks, but I'd rather not have mum see me shaking my hinnie. As for Dj Hairy Bare Ass and the ill-fated Pride Ball, you are not the only one.
TIP for next year: Go directly to beer garden and get shit-faced.

3:25 p.m.  

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