It's Pride...I think I am going to vomit.

I can remember a time when I was super excited for Pride to roll around. I would put on my stylish rainbow bead choker...the hoochiest shorts I could find...and a t-shirt that I probably should have stopped wearing in the 2nd grade. Now, when I hear that Pride is nearing...I have to fight the impulse to order a closure of 35W and 94...to block out the Country Gays comin' to visit their City Cousins...and I want to firebomb every major corporation in the city...except since they all have booths at Pride...and basically have sponsored their way into ownership...that would probably mean that lots of innocent Country Gays in their "wife-beaters" and pride rings would also perish.

It's gotten to the point where I only go to the park during the time when I have been suckered into volunteering at one booth or another (I vow every year that this year...I'm not volunteering for SQUAT...and then...I end up at a booth...in 99,000 degree weather wishing I had a bebe gun and a liscense to maim).

Right now, I'm actually hiding out in my office, which is near the park. I'm sitting in my office on a Saturday morning. I'm participating on a panel at a queer people of color conference today, and I had the choice of either going to the park and seeing Target (which I passed on the way there as they own two blocks of downtown Minneapolis)...or coming up to the office to write a bitter jaded blog. Of course I opted for bitter.

It also doesn't help that I am running on E for real. I love my softball mates...they are my brothers (and sister). They are my community. But God Bless America...they like to go out most nights of the week. Now you are probably thinking...grown ass man keep your ass at home...but you just don't understand. So let me help, one: the Slammers and Associates are some of the funniest most brilliant people I know and two: these bizatches will guilt your ass to death if you don't show up at least 98% of the time. The only person that doesn't happen to is Ramon. And that's because Ramon is 6'7" tall and 225 pounds of attitude. None of us are bold enough to tell that man a damn thing.

I take that back...it wouldn't happen to Titi...as he is 97% molten lava and the love child of Pele...but he is one of the prime instigators of our multi-school night exscursions.

Really, I can't complain. We have a good time. And each morning I vow that tonight...I'm actually going to stay in and do the 24 loads of laundry I have to do. But then...my phone jingles...and it's off I go. There is a bunch of scheduled activites for Pride this afternoon...but since I loathe Pride...I'm going to take a nap instead.