whirling dervish of fists and elbows

it's friday, but not just any friday. it's the friday before baltimore pride weekend, a weekend that never fails to be interesting if nothing else. my pride-day resolution is to avoid any drama at any cost: anywhere that you combine that much booze with that many fags there's going to be fireworks. last year's pride marked the last time that i drunkenly talked to (ok, so screamed at) ed. this year there will be a drunk ex-boyfriend thrown into the mix. he won't cause drama, though, so it's on my shoulders not to, either. i think i can do it. no, let me be more positive: i'll do it!

we're having people over to the apartment for a pre-parade get-together, complete with strawberry daiquiris, beer, good god you name it. i'm afraid that there could be throngs of people. well, maybe not throngs, but anything more than 10 people in our apartment starts to feel like alexander the great's army attempting an invasion. i'm watching a movie tonight with my new friend michael, but before that can happen i have to clean the apartment top-to-bottom (terry's done his part, but most of the shitty mess is mine), go to the store, and go to the gym. i could skip the gym, but the shirt i'm wearing tomorrow is sleeveless and a girl has to look pumped.

i just informed terry that i'm going to have to be a whirling dervish of cleaning. he said, "i'd like to see that." "so would i," i told him.