Finally got some rain. The weather is soft and quiet and the air is nourishing. Squirrel throws fir cones at my head.
Instead of going to local PRIDE events today, we tooled around and did one of my favorite things; we ate in the car.
Delia got her favorite: pulled pork sandwich:
I’m not big into BBQ, but this place in town is fantastic.
I love parking behind it with my wife and a big wad of paper towels and sucking sauce off the bone.
Afterwards we drove around, past the festivities, and observed a trio of pickup trucks in cahoots with one another, each driven by frustrated solo proud-boy-looking hick-motherfuckers on the prowl for queer folks to terrorize.
The parking-lot-campground boss-man with the golden nameplate and dumb-and-dumber Jeff Daniels hairdo must’ve found our mossy beater-car suspicious, so he told me not to drive through the “campground” PLEASE.
Then we went to the big grocery store and the pickup truck boys were squirreling around there, flapping their sexy-lady mudflaps, trying to demonstrate that they’re not gay at all no they’re not — not even a little — just OBSESSED with what people are doing with their wieners and confused about what makes theirs plump up all of a sudden.
Then we ate flaming hot TAKIS and red-white-and-blue cupcakes in our fourth parking lot of the day.
I’m going to sleep now without supper because that was all more than enough and it’s been a long and stressful couple of weeks.
Delia is playing her bass.