I forgot to talk about Pride. Wanna know why? Because I remember so very little of it. See, I woke up this past Sunday morning, missing Brian, who’d had to leave the day before to go to Atlanta for a business thing. I cleaned the house and bought some booze, sent a text message to about ten people to join me at the house for drinks before the parade, and forgot to eat a thing.

So when four people showed up at my house – apparently I’d accidentally clashed with another pre-Pride party – I was operating on an empty stomach and a bit of excitement, and I promptly drank two vodka and club sodas, three glasses of white wine, and two beers. Chambers drove me to the parade, where we met up with some friends, and he also bought me a very large Park Long Island Iced Tea, and by the time the Parade started I was a goner.

Once the whole thing was over I was tired and cranky, and it looked like it was going to rain. I’d been standing on the bleachers with my neighbor, Steve, who was so kind as to drive me home almost immediately after the street was clear. I got like 10 pictures, and stayed for probably 2 hours, and I realize now that things just aren’t as much fun when my man isn’t around.