This weekend was gay pride and I had a fantastic time at the Pink Party in the Castro. Drove up there with one friend and my other cool friend let us crash at her pad. Throughout the week I was undecided on what to wear, or more specifically, I wasn't sure if I should be extra celebratory and wear my black angel wings. After hearing the news Friday night about New York's legalization of gay marriage I decided that I needed to up the ante in celebration, so black angel wings I wore, with my black bear paw t-shirt, grey shorts with little white skull & crossbones on it, and greyish white converse with painted skulls on them. Immediately upon arriving at Castro I knew that my decision to wear angel wings was a good one because I started getting compliments on them left and right, people stopping me to ask where I had bought them at (Hot Topic), people shouting from a few feet away "I love your wings!", etc. My friend and I hit the bars, which were crowded, but we managed to get a few drinks in, me sticking to my staple of Patrón tequila, either a straight-up shot or mixed in a margarita. Soon enough I was quite toasty and extra happy. Then the night began to blur, but I recall making out with a dude from Canada in one of the bars. Actually I recall my hands kinda wandered around and um.... explored, but he responded enthusiastically so I continued. I remember kissing a cute shirtless guy from Ohio outside while dancing to the techno music; I kept running my fingers through his chest hair and fondling his nipples. What can I say? I wanted to be a welcoming Californian! I remember dancing with a cute girl who was from the same area that I grew up in. I remember taking pictures of various wildly dressed people. I remember telling some dudes in a bar that my female friend's rack was nice and all-natural, I remember walking down the street to find a cab and hearing my name called and seeing a friend drive by in a car, waving hi to me. I remember telling the cab driver who drove my drunken ass to my friend's house that my wings couldn't fly me home because I had too much to drink. And most of all I just remember dancing, laughing, smiling and having a blast. I was feeling kinda off when I woke up this morning, and briefly considered attending the gay pride celebration after the parade, but my logical voice reminded me that I was 39 years old, hung over, and within a few hours my energy would deplete and i'd be hating life, wishing I was home in bed. So home I went, took a nap and now i'm beginning to feel half-normal again. But the debauchery was all worth it. Here's two pics of a cute twink dancing around in his underwear, shaking his cute butt. Happy Pride!