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Thumbing through the Pride pages of my advanced copy of the SF Guardian, I came upon a delightful site. With my dear acquaintance Jason Kendig working his sexy looks on the cover, I came to find that a bevy of my besties had made the list for hot, pink, queer city most eligible faggots or whatever they were called. I was overjoyed, and it made me really think about how proud I am to have Pride! Not only do I get to be a beacon for the gay sentinels here in San Francisco, but I get to see them appreciated, acknowledged, and continually maintain the legacy of this community year after year!
Though my friends throw more blackout dancehalls than wedding receptions, it is to wit that without them those weddings may never come to be. It is after all, the culture that keeps drawing eligible bachelors to the city year after year. If it werenít for Armistead Maupinís candid descriptions of the Endupís Jock Strap contests some thirty years ago, it may never have become this way. As long as the scandals keep happening in the clubs, then the tawdry and menial can still take place in the bedrooms. And that, my reader, brings us back to ME!
While still contemplating my busy pride schedule, I think I have narrowed it down for my fags! I know all the best parties, and I will be wearing my traditional pride attire: pink pants, a black shirt, and a healthy side order of attitude! My picks are more "Locals Only" then Circuit Frenzy, but will feature the hottest boys in a town filled with oozing sexuality.
I will most definitely be hitting the Burning Maryís Mary party. They have placed a premium on that name, even entitling their recent art show Maria. It will be mostly cultivated by the Herrera Brothers, who throw parties but never admit to being the actual hosts. It tickles me that they always seem upset to be there.
After that, Saturday will lead me to the dyke march. It is a tradition to attend the lady friendly event, and it is with great excitement that I throw a party to welcome the lovelies into the Castro with open arms! After that madness, I will be heading to the Parkside for a Mon Cousin Belge album launch party. It will be epic, with band members convening from all parts of the world to release their long overdue first album.
If music isnít your primary dish, there is a costume party of epic proportions called Beast happening at the Transfer to celebrate Pink Saturday, a Drag King Party at 111 Minna hosted by the ever sweet and bearded Amelia Paradise, and the ever scandalous Man-Quake at the Gangway.
Sunday will be all about the water. Fuck the Bride Pride, I will be kicking it back by the pool showing off my chest hair and sipping on a NakedSword shot. I am sure that Blue Curacao will be the color of the day.
So as I get ready to go on my long weekend, proud of the fact that my liver will most likely match the rainbow flag by the end of it, who will be stirring up the pot. The most exciting part is, everyone will have their hands in it! But what have I heard lately that will shock the Shizzandra out of ya! Well, there is the drag queen that got into a drag out feud to defend the name of Heklina at an LA bar. Then there is the local personality, columnist, and drag activist who has made me her official go to guy for all things sordid, making me more in the know by betraying her friends and loved ones. Finally, did you hear about the Golden Girl who got surprised backstage by a golden shower! Well, honey, its all in the books, but I canít give you the punch lines. They are all there, in the corners of my mind, and that is where they shall stay. I, after all, never break a Pinkyswear!
BE SAFE, HAVE FUN, WEAR A CONDOM, and DRINK THE PUNCH!