Estelle Getty was the first of the gang to die
Can you believe how much I suck? I blog less often than an illiterate, fingerless child in the 1980's. This is all the douchebaggier, as it has been the most sizzling summer on record since the invention of the fajita-flavored bikini. So, in an abridged and shame-soaked format, here is a handy guide to highlights of the last few months:
I went to Obama's victory speech in St. Paul. Most of what was previously posted about the Dolly Parton concert could be slightly modified to apply to this event, if I weren't such a lazy sack of toxic waste. Of course, I didn't get into the building, but following the stationary parade of adorable, giddy Minnesotans to try to find the end of the line, which took at least half an hour, was a really magical experience in itself. Also, it gave me a chance to circumnavigate just about every block of downtown St. Paul, discovering that it is indeed as handsome and charming as the learned astronomers of Minneapolis have long theorized it would be. Once the police drove by to apologize over bullhorns for the fact the stadium was full, I joined the rest of the surplus crowd in watching the speech on a Jumbotron outside. There was no sound, but there was closed captioning, so we all stood around reading in the darkened streets, cheering and screaming when we reached the end of a sentence that particularly appealed to us. At the time, I didn't notice there were that many people standing around reading with me, but when I saw the footage of us on TV, I realized it actually was a huge swarm of tens of thousands of people.
A gay pride festival also occurred, and while I've made it a custom to be scared of and grossed out by Gay Pride, this was actually really fun, especially since everyone in town, regardless of sexuality, was all into it. Like St. Patrick's Day, only gay instead of Irish, and not unbearably irritating. Even the Uptown mini-pre-pride subfestival, for a particular neighborhood of a city with less than 400, 000 people altogether, was a gigantic wonderful mess, with a huge mass of fun drunk people rocking out. It was hard not to compare this to the pathetic Brooklyn Pride festival we had woefully attended last year, where about 10 really bored and boring people skulked around while someone played half-hearted hip hop in the midst of the dullness. This being all the more pathetic, as we were constantly being reminded that if Brooklyn were its own city, it would be the 2nd biggest city in the country, or whatever. Anyway, the full-on Festival, occurring in the park across the street from my workplace was really big and oddly pleasant, with everyone in town showing up just because it was as good a reason as any to wander around in the park. I was working through most of it, but did stop by with Eric and Sarah to eat a bag of fried cheese curds. Though I did also see people paddling giant canoes around in the lake, the highlight was of course the En Vogue concert at the end. You had to pay to watch them from within this chain-link fenced area, but it was free to stand outside the chin-high chain-link fence. We turned out to have picked a very good spot, for we were among the first people to notice En Vogue making their appearance on a golf cart, which gave us the rare pleasure of running towards a golf cart full of En Vogue members while waving our arms and shouting. Naturally, they saved "Free Your Mind" for last, which ignited a powderkeg of hoopla, everyone singing along, denying vehemently that our fondness for tight clothing and high-heeled shoes meant that we were prostitutes. It all ended with the longest, most deluxe fireworks show I've ever seen.
One day, Sarah and I were riding the bus, and this woman got on carrying a gigantic fluorescent orange feather. She began wiggling it in the bus driver's face, while jokingly pretending this was an accident: "Ooops! Oh, sorry! Is my feather in your way?" She then took a seat across from a young mother, and began shoving the feather in the baffled and concerned looking face of this other woman's baby. She did this for a while, the baby and mother alike continuing to look rather disconcerted. Then, when the bus came to the next stop, the woman got up and dismounted the vehicle, apparently having gotten everything she needed out of the trip.
Well, I could go on and on, if I weren't as lazy as a cryogenically frozen log of tortoise crap. But I think from these choice tidbits, you can pretty much get the general idea of my world as it currently stands. Ideally, with this priceless backstory filled in, I will move on to providing more proactive, real-time updates on my life as America's most torpid buttmunch. Until then, goodnight and God bless.
I went to Obama's victory speech in St. Paul. Most of what was previously posted about the Dolly Parton concert could be slightly modified to apply to this event, if I weren't such a lazy sack of toxic waste. Of course, I didn't get into the building, but following the stationary parade of adorable, giddy Minnesotans to try to find the end of the line, which took at least half an hour, was a really magical experience in itself. Also, it gave me a chance to circumnavigate just about every block of downtown St. Paul, discovering that it is indeed as handsome and charming as the learned astronomers of Minneapolis have long theorized it would be. Once the police drove by to apologize over bullhorns for the fact the stadium was full, I joined the rest of the surplus crowd in watching the speech on a Jumbotron outside. There was no sound, but there was closed captioning, so we all stood around reading in the darkened streets, cheering and screaming when we reached the end of a sentence that particularly appealed to us. At the time, I didn't notice there were that many people standing around reading with me, but when I saw the footage of us on TV, I realized it actually was a huge swarm of tens of thousands of people.
A gay pride festival also occurred, and while I've made it a custom to be scared of and grossed out by Gay Pride, this was actually really fun, especially since everyone in town, regardless of sexuality, was all into it. Like St. Patrick's Day, only gay instead of Irish, and not unbearably irritating. Even the Uptown mini-pre-pride subfestival, for a particular neighborhood of a city with less than 400, 000 people altogether, was a gigantic wonderful mess, with a huge mass of fun drunk people rocking out. It was hard not to compare this to the pathetic Brooklyn Pride festival we had woefully attended last year, where about 10 really bored and boring people skulked around while someone played half-hearted hip hop in the midst of the dullness. This being all the more pathetic, as we were constantly being reminded that if Brooklyn were its own city, it would be the 2nd biggest city in the country, or whatever. Anyway, the full-on Festival, occurring in the park across the street from my workplace was really big and oddly pleasant, with everyone in town showing up just because it was as good a reason as any to wander around in the park. I was working through most of it, but did stop by with Eric and Sarah to eat a bag of fried cheese curds. Though I did also see people paddling giant canoes around in the lake, the highlight was of course the En Vogue concert at the end. You had to pay to watch them from within this chain-link fenced area, but it was free to stand outside the chin-high chain-link fence. We turned out to have picked a very good spot, for we were among the first people to notice En Vogue making their appearance on a golf cart, which gave us the rare pleasure of running towards a golf cart full of En Vogue members while waving our arms and shouting. Naturally, they saved "Free Your Mind" for last, which ignited a powderkeg of hoopla, everyone singing along, denying vehemently that our fondness for tight clothing and high-heeled shoes meant that we were prostitutes. It all ended with the longest, most deluxe fireworks show I've ever seen.
One day, Sarah and I were riding the bus, and this woman got on carrying a gigantic fluorescent orange feather. She began wiggling it in the bus driver's face, while jokingly pretending this was an accident: "Ooops! Oh, sorry! Is my feather in your way?" She then took a seat across from a young mother, and began shoving the feather in the baffled and concerned looking face of this other woman's baby. She did this for a while, the baby and mother alike continuing to look rather disconcerted. Then, when the bus came to the next stop, the woman got up and dismounted the vehicle, apparently having gotten everything she needed out of the trip.
Well, I could go on and on, if I weren't as lazy as a cryogenically frozen log of tortoise crap. But I think from these choice tidbits, you can pretty much get the general idea of my world as it currently stands. Ideally, with this priceless backstory filled in, I will move on to providing more proactive, real-time updates on my life as America's most torpid buttmunch. Until then, goodnight and God bless.