So Gay Pride in Phoenix came and went. I left feeling very unproud. Has the notion of Gay Pride finally run out of steam? Or is Phoenix just so lackluster that it might just be easier to abandon the whole notion altogether?

Certainly, you are free to wear lycra short-shorts, mardi gras beads, and glitter anytime you'd like. (No offense to those who can pull it off fabulously.) But spare me the expense of a $10 ticket to watch you walk around gulping from a plastic cup of beer, leering at any half-attractive boy. You are also free to stand onstage dressed in a pink mumu, belting out an acrobatic, soulful lipsync version of Aretha's Respect, but the same $10 ticket isn't enough to make me watch.

And yes, I'm quite happy with the internal inconsistencies in my life, thanks.

Nevertheless, the day ended up being sorta fun, but for a completely unrelated reason.