It's the Little Things

My neighborhood was invaded by homosexuals last weekend for the annual Gay Pride dog and pony show here in LA. I did my best NOT to get caught up in the fanfare, but I did manage to make it down the street (I live in the gay-berhood) to spend the afternoon in the closest, least busy anti-circuit bar, catching up with people I hadn't seen in a while, dishing the dirt with people I had, and occasionally maybe letting other peoples hands drift to over to unmentionable areas.

Yesterday (Sunday) was all one big Up reference. It came to be that somebody would say 'Squirrel!' and turn their head every time something (some body) they liked walked by. I haven't seen this movie yet; I must be the last gay man on earth who hasn't seen it. That'll go on my list of gay things I don't have, right below 'Gym Membership' and 'iPhone.'

LA Pride (some call it WeHo Pride) is epic. It's Intolerance without the sets. It's Gone with the Wind, with slightly fewer hoop skirts. It's like King Kong, and everybody gotta be Fay Wray. Where else can we go with this? It's like the prologue for Ten Commandments, and everybody gotta be Estelle Taylor. Anyways, I thought it would be nice to share a small but hardly insigificant detail from that epic journey, brought to you by my sexy shutterbug friend Chris.


We found this in the driveway of LA Buns & Co. left by someone with my sense of humor. For their work, I give ten whore diamonds. Happy Gay Pride, possums.