Preparing for the Storm

With Gay Pride a little more than a week away, faggots all over the Eastern seaboard are fasting, pumping, and plucking in preparation for the de riguer shirtless events that characterize the celebration of our faggotry.

What "Gay Pride" means and what it has to do with popping pills of Ecstasy is beyond me, but I'm fully complicit in believing that I must
A) get laid by not just any guy but a super hot fucking stud &
B) get so high that I must wear sunglasses as to not scare those around me with the intense look of inebriation in my eyes.

All in the name of "Gay Pride." All to celebrate my queer identity. All of it nonsensical bullshit.

Anytime I've attended gay pride events I've felt pangs of panic as I realized that my fellow queers are trashy losers. Because of:
1. Gay Pride Beads
2. Mullets
3. Cracked out crystal queens (Yes I'll dabble in drug use, but doing meth is not cute, because honey, everyone can tell you're fucking high as a kite on Tina. It scares everyone and makes me want to initiate a bill to banish you from Manhattan to some hickville community where you can bond with Oxycontin fuckettes.)
4. Bad House Music- How is Kristine W a gay celeb? Amber? And who keeps hiring these haggard cows to keep performing at gay events anyway? I love that you "support" my community but all you are is a D-list entertainer/opportunistic fag hag.
5. Small swimsuits on steroid queens. Just a style thing but if you're massively big, wearing speedos makes you look re-fucking-tarded. And to think you spent how many hours in the gym to look that stupid- if only you had spent that time working and saving up money to fix your busted face.
6. Body Glitter
7. Malted Beverages. I'm fine with the amount of liquor sponsorship at gay pride events because its the reality of our community. We're lushes, and if they want to support Gay Pride, then go ahead, but who drinks Smirnoff Ice and the rest of that gross shit. Drink a real fucking drink-either beer or a cocktail. All I taste when I drink that fruity shit is sugar, hardly enough booze, and a horrible hang over.
8. Blonde Highlights; especially on Asians.

Honestly I could go on forever... but I'll spare you.
And for the record, I'm not self-hating- I do like being gay, and I am proud of being a fag. As Americans we get shit on all the time, and get reminded that we're second-class citizens if we want to have out lives.

My favorite gay pride memory was circa 98. I was a college frosh or sophomore and I headed up to SF for the weekend. The night before the parade I spent at a house party getting wasted and making out with some hot 22 year old waiter. The next morning I stumbled to the parade and met up with my best friend Lyle. A skinny energetic little fucker, Lyle, was mischievous and a riot to hang with.
We were scheduled to walk with the Stanford contingent in the parade but as we got closer to the group, we saw that it was filled with band geeks and awkward computer science students. Lyle promptly grabbed my arm and turned us around.

me: What are you doing?
Lyle: We're not walking with them. Jesse smells like pulled pork.
me: So where are you taking me?
Lyle: I have an idea.

Lyle ended up taking me to the high school contingent of the parade. Comprised of high school students from around the Bay Area, the kids all carried signs of their respective high schools, and apparently a couple kids failed to show up, leaving signs for us to carry.
So in that parade of that year, I walked among young teenagers- many of whom were attending their first Gay Pride event. There was the dykey girl on the skateboard, a young gay boy who sung musicals the whole fucking time, and even an Asian boy with highlights, but I saw in them the wonder and excitement that we all felt our first years. Before we got jaded and became our sophisticated "over-it" selves.
Close to the end of the parade route, we ran into the PFLAG parents who unabashedly came up and hugged us all. And in the middle of the street, many of those kids cried and hugged those parents back. And it felt amazing to be there, to be gay, and perhaps to even be a little proud. Because posing as a "Sacred Heart High School" student, I was reminded what it's really all about.