I got badly sunburned Sunday, from marching for Barack in Chicago's Gay Pride Parade. My pale Irish skin is set aflame after two hours of uninterrupted sun. Somebody bring back the ozone layer. It was cool. Barack himself wasn't there, had some emergency State Senatoring to do, so it wasn't as fun as last year. But it was nice to note that last year the big question was "Who is Obama?" and now the big question is "Where is Obama?" The parade itself is lots of fun of course, but for a straight man, it's also a bit like Vietnam (because everything is a bit like Vietnam, or to be current, Iraq) Just as you couldn't tell the innocent peasants from the guerilla soldiers, you sometimes can't tell the difference between the hot chicks and the drag queens. I'm not saying it's not usually obvious, but some of those guys are GOOD. Both gay man and hopefully straight woman alike asked me to place Obama stickers on various naughty parts of their bodies and I did my duty. "Your ass has been slapped by Barack Obama, remember that in November, but don't phrase it like that to the media."
Later that night I saw much of my old Improvolympic class perform. The management of IO put them together as a performance team, I was sadly among those passed over. But they're doing brilliantly without me.
Have you ever wondered if there's just one Goodyear blimp or like a fleet of them? Turns out there's three. But only one in the midwest. And that one flew what I swear was only a few hundred feet above my apartment Saturday morning.
I had a dream last night where I met a beautiful woman who told me to search for her at her house. She just gave me an address and the next day I went on a quest of some sort through a sprawling suburban neighborhood with some companions I don't remember. We eventually found the house and the girl but I don't think we wound up together in the end. So not a lot of difference from real life then.
Rory, you should have gone to the Gray Pride Parade. This is where the aliens secretly colonizing our planet come out to express their solidarity. It's an eye-opening experience -- you realize you can't tell who's an alien and who's not just by looking at them. Except, of course, the aliens don't get sunburns.
Pride is cool, but sunburns aren't. Get well soon.