Coming Sunday is Gay Pride in SF. Which means a parade. As every year, our little contingent of pro-Israel street-guerillas will be marching.
No, I'm not really looking forward to this. My feet hurt. And there's nothing really fabulous about a bunch of middle-aged people.
No matter how vibrant, springy, and youthful we are the rest of the year, on Sunday we'll be surrounded by professional fabulous.
People who have taken being fabulous, just fabulous darling, to new heights of total fabulosity!
By comparison, we won't look nearly so good.
IT'S..... FABULOUS!
One of us had suggested upping the ante by dressing as Jaffa oranges.
That will not be happening.
Neither will the neat-o dance routine that we've been practicing so assiduously.
And we had such a dynamite act, too!
Great choreography!
Coconuts!
Kicky rhythms!
Rather like this:
IM--PECK--ABLE!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lfGpVcdqeS0
It seemed like a splendid idea.
Imagine a whole bunch of Zionists dancing down Market Street.
Wouldn't that be cool?
The issue is the suits of armour.
There are ventilation problems.
Especially on a warm sunny day.
Also, blue ostrich feathers cost a bit.
As do lapis lazuli studs on your tabard.
Plus there were just WAY too many pissy objections from the other members of the group.
No way in HELL were they gonna put that thing on, didn't know who died in it several centuries ago, smells like a skunk crawled in there after eating bean dip, it's NOT my size, my mother doesn’t want me lifting anything heavy, I refuse to wear rusty iron shmatte, not my colour, reinforces the patriarchate (of Antioch, I presume), it's SOOO reactionary, how am I going to get my inhaler/cigar through the visor, kvetch kvetch kvetch.
I guess I was the only one practicing the little dance.
No wonder my feet hurt.
Anyway, I've been trained as a contingent monitor, I've got a mean glower, and I know how to use it.
That and a bitchy attitude.
Growl snarl grunt.
Prepared.
Totally.
My blood sugar will hit a low-point about one third of the way in, and I'll be dehydrated and in serious need of caffeine and sunscreen by the time we pass the cable car turnaround.
Might even feel homicidal by 8th. Street.
I am ready to be fabulous.
Immediately after we've finished, I'll be heading home instead of joining the big party in Civic Center.
Tens of thousands of people having a great time is not my idea of fun.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
THEIR NATURAL HABITAT
There are more dogs in this neighborhood than children. One very rarely sees people walking their children outside when one is, hypothetical...
7 comments:
There are other options to marching in chain mail, ducky...
Hey, we can be as "fabulous"s anon else....in our own way though, eh?
R
Iam. totally. Lah!
The Peta girls looked mighty fetching in their cabbage bikinis and their "eat me" signs. Next year, ATBOTH, remind me- we should bring salad dressing.
The lovely parade was only marred by the hateful attacks orchestrated from the "intactivist" camp, who regarded anyone identifying as Jewish as an appropriate target for their attack.
The Peta girls looked mighty fetching in their cabbage bikinis and their "eat me" signs. Next year, ATBOTH, remind me- we should bring salad dressing.
Mmmmm, stuffed cabbage!
The lovely parade was only marred by the hateful attacks orchestrated from the "intactivist" camp, who regarded anyone identifying as Jewish as an appropriate target for their attack.
Should’ve waved something at them.
Oh wait, that would’ve aroused the poor dears.
Never mind.
Next year you should all go as circumcised members of the gay-supporting local society. Big, floppy costumes, not too warm at all.
Post a Comment