The Houston Pride parade is one of the biggest in the South. About 150,000 people show up to watch the parade. I have not missed but one Houston parade in the last 10 years. I usually buy tickets to stand on the roof of a bar, so I don't have to mill about the crowds. I'm glad I did that this year, because the crowds seemed worse than usual. There were two factors that influenced the bigger crowds: The Westheimer Street Festival folks decided to plan their street fair on the same weekend as the Parade, and the Supreme Court's sodomy decision had many gay people ready to celebrate.

The Street Fair is not usually something I would seek out. It's hot, it's loud, and really, how many different kinds of incense and "smoking accessories" can you sell? Yeah, it's THAT kind of street festival. Once you've seen one unwashed, tattoo wearing freak look at a hookah pipe in awe, you've pretty much seen them all.

So the street fair was kinda lame, but as dark approached, the crowd grew gayer and more festive (which might be redundant) and the crowd began to build.

Lots of folks, when you mention a gay pride parade, you think of drag queens in convertables and dick dancers on bar floats. There is definately lots of that, but there's a lot more. There's the gay veterans group. There's various churches. Lots of gay advocacy groups. The gay chorus...

But there are still the drag queens. The most entertaining entry for me this year was the Strangerettes, a drag drill team from Dallas. Remember the drill team from your high school that did the high kick routines? Yeah, imagine 75 men in drag doing that. It was wonderful.

My favorite entry this year, though, was the Audi convertable toting John Lawrence and Tyrone Garner, the defendants who just prevailed in the Supreme Court decision. They were there near the beginning of the parade, and the roar of the crowd for those guys was the best, loudest cheer I've ever heard from a crowd. So meaningful. That's the real reason we hold parades: not to have a good time and party, not to "make a statement" (though those are great side effects.) I think we throw parades so that we can prove to ourselves that we are not alone in this world.

Another entry that gets me in every gay pride parade I've ever been too (and it's many, many parades over the years) are the P-FLAG marchers. The friends and family of gay people marching, including little old ladies with white hair waving signs like "I love my gay son" just really can make me cry. You know... when my meds aren't well adjusted.

Also entertaining this year (as in years past) is the LOAF group. LOAF stands for Lesbians Over Age Fifty, and they march down the street saying "HO HO, HEY HEY, How do you know your Grandma's straight?!" That's just so wrong it's right, folks.

For weeks, I've been receiving email about the Supreme Court's upcoming decision in the Texas v. Lawrence case. How it was historic. I didn't need the emails, though.

As a socially aware gay man, I've known this was coming since I read in the gay press about these men's arrests in Texas. I have followed this case, and I could have told you this case was going to the Supreme Court. I watched the case and read the transcript of the arguments.

I knew that the Supreme Court was going to have to hand down a decision today. I didn't know what the verdict would be, but it was ended up being better than anyone could have hoped for. The wrong-wing conservatives are PISSED.

Because of all this, I decided I wanted to attend the rally scheduled for the verdict day in Austin. I thought it would be quite empowering to be among so many gay people on such a historic day. I had NO idea how right that was.

It was awesome, actually, to be there among so many gay people, happy in our victory. Not that gay people ever really need a reason to celebrate, but about halfway through the rally, it really sunk in: I am no longer a criminal because of my sex life. How cool is that?

I'm not one to live my life as a victim anymore. I don't let The Man get me down (unless he's hot) and I don't sit around and feel victimized because there are laws against me getting married or even really holding a job in Texas. I have a great job where everyone knows I'm gay, and I get great support for that. I have no current desire to get married, and though I'd like to have the right to do that, I don't, and as much as that sucks, that's the framework I have to deal with. I dream of a day that I'm no longer a second-class citizen, but I don't live my life as one, so I don't feel like one.

But this decision and the resulting change is really cool. It's sort of like someone took a pebble out of my shoe after it had been there so long I'd gotten used to it. It didn't bother me anymore, but it sure feels good to get rid of it.

Have a great weekend, everyone. God Bless the Supreme Court (or at least six of them) and have a fun, safe time!

I got new glasses.  I know you may be somewhat suprised that I wear glasses at all, because I usually wear contacts, but I've had some sort of vision correction since the third grade.  Anyhow, I have an eye infection and so I'll need to wear the glasses for a bit.  Since I didn't OWN any glasses, I had to go buy some.  It's always fun to buy an item that affects your personal appearace when you can't see well.  I highly recommend that.

I was a bit miffed, because I was going to try to go to the place in Austin where Jette got her groovy new specs, but I couldn't see to drive very well, and that would have been really stupid.  I ended up with an okay pair, nothing special, but stylish nonetheless.  I could do a lot worse, and have.  I have bought my last three pairs of glasses under duress, ie, when I had an eye infection and HAD TO HAVE them NOW.  You really end up with wacky glasses that way.

The salesgirl saw me coming, too.  I told her up front that I was only buying these as a backup for contacts and I didn't need the fancy-dancy lenses and frames and please point me to the glasses for fat people that don't  cost much and please hurry because I can't see and I want to go home and take a nap since I'm off work early.

Of course, I ended up with upgraded lenses and mid-level frames and spent about 50% more than I wanted to.  But they let me into the lab to watch them grind my lenses down and I got to see all the lens-grinding-equipment-y stuff, so that's kinda cool.  All and all, very neat stuff.

I'm very lazy tonight and don't feel like uploading a photo of me in my new glasses, so you'll have to wait.  So sad for you.

Yesterday was a slow news day in San Antonio, and it showed because eight minuites into the broadcast, Channel Four showed a wedding, live on TV from somebody's living room.  It was among the most hilarious things I've seen on TV in a long, long time.

Apparently, the Justice of the Peace didn't show up for the wedding, so they called the newsdesk to ask for help.  Somebody at the newsdesk must have seen this as the opportunity for comic gold, and arranged a prominent minister to marry them live on TV.

You can watch it by going here.  If you never, ever click a link I put on here, you should click this one.  I'm not even kidding.  Pure comic gold.

I was talking to my mother when they were getting married: "Oh my God, look at the white trash getting married on televison."

"Tim!  You are sometimes such a snob.  They look like a lovely couple!"

"Mom, they have sad clown pictures on their walls and there are children running around in the background in t-shirts and jeans!"

"That may be their best clothing.  Not everyone has as many clothes as you do!"

"Shhh.  The wedding's over, and they're going to interview the Happy couple!"

"Did he REALLY say the doctor pulled two of the wrong teeth?  Sandwich platter woes at Wal-Mart?!  Okay, Tim, you were right.  They are white trash.  And very funny."

Damn right.

I've been Out and Proud (or some combination thereof) for over twelve years now.  I really do think that it's important to go to gay pride picnics and parades and to live my life to it's fullest and to send a message to other younger gay men and women and to show the world that they are not alone. 

Of course, when I came out, there wasn't an entire sitcom based on successful, attractive (or some combination thereof) New York gay men and their wisecracking millionaire friends.  All we really had when I was growing up was Uncle Arthur on Bewitched.  (Or really, any role that Paul Lynd played.)  Jody on Soap as a role model?  Not so much.  Let's not forget Bosom Buddies, an annoying bad sitcom featuring much bad drag and even worst scripting featuring many homophobic steriotypes.

Oh, and Jack Tripper never fooled me: that's a straight man if ever I've seen one.  I always get a bit creeped out by Mr. Firley acting all freaky about Jack being gay, when he was so fey it made even my little twelve year old brain wonder what the hell the writers were thinking.  But then I think that a lot

This coming weekend, I'm going to Pride in Houston.  I love Houston's Pride, and I havn't missed the Houston parade in the last 8 years, except when my sister got married in 1999 on the same day as the parade.  She's lucky I'd already paid for the tux, because otherwise, I'da had a conflict on my hands.  This year, I'll be standing on the roof of Texas's oldest gay bar, watching the crowd and the parade.  I can't wait.

Went to Austin last night for happy housr with the Austin Journalers.  I had, for one reason or another, missed the last three gatherings, and not only were there people I wanted to see, but there were new inside jokes forming and I was going to get out of the loop if I didn't sit and drink Pelligrino with them in one of the coolest bars in Austin that I've never been to.

Wow.  That sentence structure would send Mrs. MOndferdini, my seventh grade English teacher into a tizzy.  She'd also demand I use metaphors in some way.  She was into metaphors and similies in a big way, and so my seventh grade writing is like hydra, with her many non-sensical metaphors.

TANGENT ALERT!

So we met at Gingerman, and I was delighted to find eight people there.  Eight people from the journalers... not eight total.  We chatted and drank, drank and chatted.  I'm glad I ate before I got there, because I saw no evidence of food, save the menu on our table that I never opened.  As usual in Austin, the peoplewatching (and by "people," I mean "men") was faboo.  A good time was had by all.

Our group dwindled down to four, and the conversation between Greg and I turned to gaydar, specifically, does his still work? and so we passed the time trying to determine who was and was not gay at Gingerman last night.

As the group broke up, Greg agreed to go across the street with me to Oilcan Harry's for a bit (Yes!  Greg in a gay bar!  Who knew?!)  We had a great conversation and then he left.  Great meeting of the Journalers.

As soon as Greg walked away, I decided that I'd go into this somewhat infamous bar next door called Boyz Cellar, which is totally not my scene, since I am neither 22 years old, tall and skinny in my underwear, nor am I a leachorus old guy with lots of money to spend on said twinks in their underwear.

They were having a BLACKLIGHT party.  I hate blacklight parties because I really don't care to see the lint on my clothing in that much detail, and furthermore, neon bodypaint on twinks?  Not sexy.  Just a bit off, really.  I really was going to walk a lap around the bar and leave (a "fruit loop", for those of you not up on the gay lingo of the early 90s) when I ran into Amos, a very good friend of mine from my Dallas days.  Amos moved back home to care for his dying mother, and we lost touch.  But there he was, with a group of friends from his hometown.

They didn't know Austin very well, which probably explains why they were at Boyz Cellar (The manHo on The Real World Vegas?  Steven?  He used to work there as a bartender in his underwear.  Nuff said.)

I directed Amos and his party to the Chain Drive, where I of course knew two-thirds of the people in the bar.  We chatted, visited a bit, and then we went to IHOP and ate the strange pancakes that had syrup that tasted like suntan lotion on them.  Very odd.  Then I drove home.

Fun, long, crazy night  Tonight, Pride Month continues with a parade in San Antonio!  I'm very excited!  Or maybe I just need more sleep!  Have a great day, everyone!

Goodness... it's no fun being sick.  After not really feeling 100% for almost two weeks, I can tell you that it's good to be back.  Just not feeling sick at all makes me almost giddy... but I'm really more jocular than giddy.  Yeah, that's it.

I have been working on my house for awhile now, and it's coming along nicely, thank you very much.  I have decided to kick things into high gear, since I'd like to have a few people over for Wurstfest, so that means lots of trips to the Home Depot.

Goddamn paint.  I am someone who can go into overwhelm easily.  Baskin Robbin's 31 flavors can cause me to go into a panic attack, so you can imagine what sixty-five thousand colors will do to me.  It's not been pretty.

So I just decided that I was going to go in and choose a color.  I had at least narrowed it down to a sagey-greenish-grey hue.  The problem is that a sagey-greenish-grey isn't specific enough.  They had shades and nuances of sagey-greenish-grey.  Some were more greyish-sagey-green, and others were greenish-greyish-sage... it's enough to make Martha Stewart go into overload.  But she has a staff to pick colors for her, and I didn't.

So I settled on a color, and gave it to the woofy man who mixes the paint.  Yeah baby... I'll help you shake that paint up REAL good...

Ahem.  Sorry.  So I got the paint mixed and paid for it.  Of course, as soon as I got to the car, I hated the shade I picked.  I'm not painting until probably this weekend, so we'll see if it grows on me, or makes me ill.  I'm hoping for the grows on me thing, but we'll see.

In other news, I've got new-car-fever really badly right now.  My Volvo is still cool, but it's SERIOUSLY getting quirky, and not in a good way, so I'm thinking I'll have a new car sooner rather than later.  Of course, if you know me in real life, you've heard me mutter on and on about a hybrid, but the hybrid SUVs aren't coming out until probably a year from now (the Ford Escape Hybrid has been delayed again) and I can't wait that long.  So you'll be hearing me prattle on about cars here for a bit.  Fair warning.

Hey there!  Looks like this thing DOES work!  And I remember how it works!

I haven't been lazy, I've been busy.  I hate journalers/bloggers/whatevers who always say how long it's been, so I'm shutting up and changing the subject.

But it has been too long, hasn't it?

I came across some old cassette tapes from my early high school years (early, because I was buying CDs by about my mid-sophomore year.  I'm not THAT old!).  I put one of my formerly favorite tapes from 1985 in, The Thompson Twins's Here's to Future Days.  Boy oh boy, did THAT suck!  Didn't hold up well over the years at all.  I was about ready to kill somebody about halfway through the second song.  It was not a treat at all.

Love is the Law was pretty good, though, with the steel drums.  Or synthesized steel drums, most likely.  There's not a single sound on that entire album that wasn't processed by 1985's most powerful computers.  Yes, that includes the vocals.

For some reason, that stupid album made me wish I still had hair to pile on top of my head and bangs to put in my eyes.

Hey, did you know I'm a pianist?  I took over 10 years of piano, just to prove to the world that I was gay as a goose.  You'd think after ten years I'd be pretty good, but I'm not. I can play Heart and Soul, The First Noel, Silent Night, The Sting, and a random blues tune.  If I were my parents, I'd be pissed at all the money they spent on that shit.

Actually, by the time I was in high school, I wasn't half bad (that means I didn't suck).  I had a really cool piano teacher by that time who's daughter was a showgirl in Vegas, and I heard rumors that her son was a showgirl in Vegas, too.  Wouldn't surprise me.  She was a cool old lady,  Very hip.  Cool red hair.  She had bad denture breath, though, and she stood behind me, so her titties pressed into my back during my entire piano lesson, which weakened my concentration to the point of distraction, and I didn't learn much from her.  I mostly spent an hour a week with old lady titties in my back.  I don't think it was a sex thing, because my sister and I discussed it once, and she did it my sister, too. 

Unless she was just really kinky and liked cheerleaders, too.  But I'm going to, for the sake of my sanity, think she didn't know it was eeking me out.

Well, I can hardly wait for the google hit for "old ladies titties pressed against my back".  I'm ending this now before I blow up google's robot with all the sick search terms.