Pride and other stuff
Wow, so that was an amazing Pride weekend . . . I've just now recovered enough to post about it.
My Pride was kicked off in the finest of fashion with a very public makeout session with bigreddee at the corner of Castro and 18th . . . I like to think of it as our "We're here, we're queer, we're full of saliva and we're gonna swap it right out in front of God and everybody" moment. D recapped the moment nicely elsewhere, but it must be said that I really can't imagine a better way to kick off the weekend . . . that moment was certainly a portend of tonsil hockey to come.
D and I floated from our makeout corner to the Edge, which was inundated with fresh, new meat . . . it made me laugh to see how quickly heads would turn whenever a handsome new face sidled into the bar . . . the speed of the reaction was uncanny, and it reminded me of that school of fish from Finding Nemo.
Mind you, the mass whiplash was NOT unwarranted, as the fresh, new faces were whiplash-worthy.
So that was nice.
Then, later on, at some point--I can't sharply recall because that part of the evening was a little fuzzy--Ned and Jim arrived from LA, and we went to try and find a parking space in my 'hood. Believe it or no, we actually did find a space right on 15th Street, and we walked back to Debbie's, where the evening got even fuzzier. Let's just say that saliva was swapped (rather indiscriminately, depending on your moral position on the exchange of saliva) and fur was felt.
Saturday was spent frantically Costco-shopping and cleaning the flat in preparation for a little Pre-Pink Saturday Cocktail Party that my roomie always hosts. Jim and Ned were both very helpful in tidying and suggesting clever places to hide the detritus.
The party itself was unbelievable. At first it was supposed to be Mike's softball team and a few other friends, but the list just kept growing and growing, not unlike my belly of late.
I'd estimate that at the height of the shindig, there were 80 or so people there; I found it VERY difficult to get from the living room to the back deck to fulfill my duties as beerwench. Also, I'm now free to set up my hammer-and-anvil blacksmith's set on the back deck, since the deck withstood the 2 or 3 tons of hairy hunkiness that lounged out there. At one point, I went out there and sat with the boys, and I just couldn't believe how handsome that crowd was!
Grrr, woof, etc.
I was glad to meet several fresh, furry fellers (some of them from SF); and there was a substantial bunch of my favorite people there, as well . . .
The revelers were EXTREMELY considerate of our space, too . . . they cleaned up after themselves very nicely and left a very small footprint. So, thanks, people! I'd have you all over again in a heartbeat!
After the last of the revelers left, we had some sushi at Miyabi--wait, check that: everyone else had sushi . . . I ate tempura and teriyaki, which someone referred to as the "hamburger and french fries" of Japanese food (I actually have an unpublished rant about sushi and how, if you don't like sushi, everyone always assumes that you just haven't tried it, but I'm not about to start that up here.)
Wow, all of a sudden, I've become James Joyce. Sorry about that.
Anyway, after the Japanese food, we walked down to Pink Saturday, where Ned and I stayed about 10 minutes . . . given all the frantic cleaning and reveling, we were knackered, so we went home.
Sunday commenced with brunch at Pork Store (note to self: take the Immodium before eating there next time.), and from there Missy D, Ned, and I walked to Civic Center for the Pride Festival. I'm always surprised at how close I actually live to SoMa. We had a couple of beers, stood around gawking for a while, and then we decided to hit the Lone Star.
And that's where things went fuzzy again. I can report that, much like Friday, much fur was fiddled with, and much saliva was swapped. But that's about it.
We grabbed dinner at Chow (those pork chops are my boyfriend) and Ned and Jim had to head back to LA. It was really fun having them here.
I didn't go to work on Monday, which was great, because I needed that time to recover a bit . . . today, I'm feeling sound as a pound.
I initially intended to chime in on the interesting discussion I've read on LJ and elsewhere about Pride, ambivalence toward it, the backlash against it, etc. But I've prattled on to an almost disgusting agree, so I'll spare you that essay for now. Suffice it to say that I think Pride can mean lots of things to lots of people, and I'm always interested to see how worked up people get about the meaning behind the parades, the parties, etc.
My Pride was kicked off in the finest of fashion with a very public makeout session with bigreddee at the corner of Castro and 18th . . . I like to think of it as our "We're here, we're queer, we're full of saliva and we're gonna swap it right out in front of God and everybody" moment. D recapped the moment nicely elsewhere, but it must be said that I really can't imagine a better way to kick off the weekend . . . that moment was certainly a portend of tonsil hockey to come.
D and I floated from our makeout corner to the Edge, which was inundated with fresh, new meat . . . it made me laugh to see how quickly heads would turn whenever a handsome new face sidled into the bar . . . the speed of the reaction was uncanny, and it reminded me of that school of fish from Finding Nemo.
Mind you, the mass whiplash was NOT unwarranted, as the fresh, new faces were whiplash-worthy.
So that was nice.
Then, later on, at some point--I can't sharply recall because that part of the evening was a little fuzzy--Ned and Jim arrived from LA, and we went to try and find a parking space in my 'hood. Believe it or no, we actually did find a space right on 15th Street, and we walked back to Debbie's, where the evening got even fuzzier. Let's just say that saliva was swapped (rather indiscriminately, depending on your moral position on the exchange of saliva) and fur was felt.
Saturday was spent frantically Costco-shopping and cleaning the flat in preparation for a little Pre-Pink Saturday Cocktail Party that my roomie always hosts. Jim and Ned were both very helpful in tidying and suggesting clever places to hide the detritus.
The party itself was unbelievable. At first it was supposed to be Mike's softball team and a few other friends, but the list just kept growing and growing, not unlike my belly of late.
I'd estimate that at the height of the shindig, there were 80 or so people there; I found it VERY difficult to get from the living room to the back deck to fulfill my duties as beerwench. Also, I'm now free to set up my hammer-and-anvil blacksmith's set on the back deck, since the deck withstood the 2 or 3 tons of hairy hunkiness that lounged out there. At one point, I went out there and sat with the boys, and I just couldn't believe how handsome that crowd was!
Grrr, woof, etc.
I was glad to meet several fresh, furry fellers (some of them from SF); and there was a substantial bunch of my favorite people there, as well . . .
The revelers were EXTREMELY considerate of our space, too . . . they cleaned up after themselves very nicely and left a very small footprint. So, thanks, people! I'd have you all over again in a heartbeat!
After the last of the revelers left, we had some sushi at Miyabi--wait, check that: everyone else had sushi . . . I ate tempura and teriyaki, which someone referred to as the "hamburger and french fries" of Japanese food (I actually have an unpublished rant about sushi and how, if you don't like sushi, everyone always assumes that you just haven't tried it, but I'm not about to start that up here.)
Wow, all of a sudden, I've become James Joyce. Sorry about that.
Anyway, after the Japanese food, we walked down to Pink Saturday, where Ned and I stayed about 10 minutes . . . given all the frantic cleaning and reveling, we were knackered, so we went home.
Sunday commenced with brunch at Pork Store (note to self: take the Immodium before eating there next time.), and from there Missy D, Ned, and I walked to Civic Center for the Pride Festival. I'm always surprised at how close I actually live to SoMa. We had a couple of beers, stood around gawking for a while, and then we decided to hit the Lone Star.
And that's where things went fuzzy again. I can report that, much like Friday, much fur was fiddled with, and much saliva was swapped. But that's about it.
We grabbed dinner at Chow (those pork chops are my boyfriend) and Ned and Jim had to head back to LA. It was really fun having them here.
I didn't go to work on Monday, which was great, because I needed that time to recover a bit . . . today, I'm feeling sound as a pound.
I initially intended to chime in on the interesting discussion I've read on LJ and elsewhere about Pride, ambivalence toward it, the backlash against it, etc. But I've prattled on to an almost disgusting agree, so I'll spare you that essay for now. Suffice it to say that I think Pride can mean lots of things to lots of people, and I'm always interested to see how worked up people get about the meaning behind the parades, the parties, etc.