I'm glad they decided give gays the month of June to celebrate. It's really fucking hot and it gives me a reason to lather my body in 12 ounces of sunblock. Miss Sara Bellum and I took a day trip out to a gay pride in a city far, far away. We were on the hunt for gays and lesbians. We found both.
We both looked cute as hell. Of course you know you've fucked up when your the only one wearing heels and the drag queens are in flats. Still, I survived with only one blister by the day.
Mind you I felt gorgeous and whimsical. I got hit on by two men in their fifties. I was flattered and pleased to know that I'm desirable to the sugar daddy crowd. I did manage to get hit on by someone who was age appropriate.
I was in line to buy a slushie. I had a twenty dollar bill in my hand when a boy tells me that “I look better then that $20 bill in my hand.” I'm going to compliment him on his glued on rhinestones, when he adds, “But not by much.” I guess to make sure I wasn't too sure of myself. He goes on to specify $21.
He put in quite a lot of effort not to ask for it. He even saw me later and called my twenty dollars. It's true I wouldn't have given him my number, but I would have given him my e-mail address.
One thing you should know about Pride is that it's full of shirtless white gays who don't understanding the concept of form fitting shorts and jeans. There's also penis necklaces, some of which feature a rape whistle.
The true highlight of my day was not when I spilled my blue raspberry slush on my black and white striped shorts (the stain came out) or when I ran into my teacher and he refused to acknowledge, or even when I saw a drag queen cosplaying as Reba. It's when I saw Bonnie McKee.
I was up at the front. My pink hat blocking out the sun. I felt it all. The throbbing bass. Miss Sara Bellum almost collapsing because of the hit. Bonnie McKee is the hit songwriter behind 5 of the 7 Katy Perry number ones and she has her own fantastic solo career. She's an American girl through and through. Also the ass is real.
The vocals were live vocal and raw. She hit that high falsetto note on her ballad right in front of me. She gave us choreographed dance numbers in leg warmers. There was an ass clap. I knew the choruses and some of the bridges. It was wild. I almost got to touch her hand when she ran her hand down along the front row. It was amazing. She's one of my idols and I saw it all.
Then, I got lost in the six inch heels. She's a tiny girl and I'm a tall gay and our heels canceled each other out. I gave her a church hug. She signed my CD “Love Bonnie”. I told her that I loved her career. That she was amazing live. That she recreated her music videos on stage. I was the standard fan having my first celebrity encounter. I also used the word “obsessed” at one point, which I regret.
She told me that “she saw me in the crowd trying to sing the words”. It's true the chorus's I know, but unless it's “Fergalicious” I don't know anything else. She told me she liked my hat. It was pink. It would have looked fantastic with her retro leotard.