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Casey/Male/31-35. Lives in United States/California/San Francisco/The Mission, speaks English and  . Spends 80% of daytime online. Uses a Faster (1M+) connection.
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United States, California, San Francisco, The Mission, English, Spanish, Casey, Male, 31-35.

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Wednesday, July 2, 2003

His Finger Was On The Other Button.

While some may suggest that the shock of the Supreme Court Sodomy decision brought about the passing of Strom Thurmond (or perhaps merely now torments him eternally,) the Conspiracy Lobe of my brain ticked onto this thought: maybe the conservative Powers That Be decided they needed a big story to counter the ruling, hoping that people might not notice if something big happened—not big enough to make a difference politically, but a tragedy the public could empathize with. So somebody switched Strom off.

I'll bet Dick Cheney would have had to change his trousers after he heard that one.

12:43 AM PST (link)

Monday, June 30, 2003

Your Hair Is So Proud!

Yeah, so I didn't make it out to the Pride festival yesterday until 4:30 or so. See, I got started late. After a mid-afternoon shower I figured, hey, let's try this Manic Panic Dye Hard stuff I got at the hippie grocery store. I've always fantasized about having hair that is the color of a hyperlink, but I'm also afraid of comitting to the color for the amount of time it would be there after bleaching and dyeing it. But I'm gay and proud (and sayin' it loud) and I wanted to be the blue stripe in the rainbow flag this year. Caution was thus thrown to the wind.

I gingerly spread a little blue goo on my bangs—such as they are—and saw...nothing. I applied a little more. Nothing. I spent an hour or so trying to apply blue hair coloring to the front of my head, forgetting my basic color theory: dark brown + blue = muddy brown. At least my scalp was blue. Sexy! After 90 minutes of primping, with blue"-ish" spikes on my forehead stiff enough to be illegal on an airplane, I decided it was time to let it go and just walk out there. Otherwise I was apt to break the Goth rule of clubbing: You must be out for at least as long as it took to get ready.

I confidently walked outside, and at that very moment, a 30 MPH wind picked up and blew dirt and leaves into the freshly applied blue paste on the outside of the wall of bangs, and completely wrecked the rest of my styling. I walked on, still proud to be the dirt brown stripe on the rainbow flag. (I know, shush, don't tell me there isn't one, I don't want to hear it. At least the hot boy in the jockstrap stopped me*, that's all that counts.)

I had to point out the blue to people I knew. They probably wouldn't have noticed otherwise. But I knew it was there, and it made all the difference. Happy HairGay Pride 2003!

(* In the spirit of full disclosure, the hot boy was selling said jockstraps, and he was, in fact, stopping everybody. But again, shush.)

05:34 PM PST (link)


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