Hot Pants Parade

Kelly is in town for a teaching job fair, so she stayed with me on Friday night. Saturday we walked around Evanston and went to the beach where the water was closed and the sand was whipping. That evening, in the hail storm, we went to an Indian restaurant with Kelly's friend who lives just south of me in the city. I ordered lamb, which I always know is a bad idea, if you know what I mean, but every time I think, "Oh, maybe this time it won't be so bad." Wrong.

Val was in town yesterday, and we went to the Pride Parade. I have never seen so many hot pants and thongs in my life. It was AWESOOOOOOOME (said like Oprah). From what I can tell, the parade is about having pride in wearing tiny underpants and go-go dancing to the B-52's on sparkly floats. It was fun. Everyone dances the whole time and gawks at smooth men. I also saw some bare butts. Holler!

The parade suddenly came to a stop near the end (I guess because a dancer fell off her float and broke her leg, woops) and it started to rain. So Val and I danced through the rain, stopped to dance to "It's Raining Men" playing on a half-naked party float, and continued through the rain looking for a place to eat. Then the clouds opened up over a restaurant called Killer Margaritas and the angels sang. The party continued in the basement, with music and dancing. Val and I could not stop dancing in our seats. Then Kelly met up with us at the restaurant after going to the parade with her friend, and we soon parted ways.




Now get ready to see some half-naked men!