[note that i published a forgotten draft and called it June 18th…]
Oh it was people watching Heaven this weekend! The boys were naked. The girls were naked. The dykes on bikes wore leather and the leathermen wore cock rings. The Trojan men wore gold body paint and very hot boy shorts while the lipstick dykes wore well… lipstick (and black electrical tape!). This doesn’t even describe the naked politicians, the princesses with beards, the dancing fruit and the leering crowds. And that was just the PARADE!
I live in the heart of the ‘gay village’, ‘gay ghetto’, ‘gaybourhood’, ‘insert name with word gay in it here’ and although I am not gay I find that this place is closest to my true home. At least at this moment in my life. I find that many Torontonians look askance at you when you’re outgoing and friendly. Sometimes I’ll say ‘nice coat’ and they will look at me as though I am insane. What’s insane about a heartfelt compliment? Why can’t I tell someone that I like their shoes without them looking at me like a freak of nature? It’s strange.
Personally, I like compliments.
But this weekend was heaven for me. I could say what I thought about people’s outfits or whatever with no fear whatsoever. People WANTED you to look at them. The easiest way to know if someone was checking you out was to be busted checking them out and catching them in the act at the same time. If I was ever so much more tartlike than I actually am I could for sure have gotten [as my pal ND would say] my coals raked.
Tragically, no matter how I try, I remain a nice girl to the end. I can’t make love to someone with someone else in the room. I can’t have sex with my parents in the house. I can’t boink someone I don’t like and respect. I prefer to care for the people I get intimate with. In fact I’m so repressed that way that I find it heinously difficult to express interest in a man. I think someday I will manage to ask a guy out [rather than engineer coffee and hope he asks ME out] but I’m not sure I’ll ever manage it with a man I’m interested in. This is, in fact, pathetic.
Still and all, you have to love a weekend where you dress like the skankiest ho you can be and STILL you’re overdressed.
I did hear the best pickup line ever though…
Sit on my face, I’ll guess your weight.
In other news, I am officially cleared for climbing by the goddess who put my body back together. I have instructions for what muscles to use and EVERYTHING! I’m hoping to go bouldering tomorrow if my shoulders can take it after this freaking horrible course I was forced to take today. The teacher was the most condescending person I’ve ever met… worse if he didn’t know the answer.
That’s okay though, at the end of the day I’m happy to be a nice person and he’s still an ass. Off to drink my sorrows away with othercat.
YAY CLIMBING! *dance of joy*