Glitter Rape

I like glitter. It makes me feel like a happy, forest fairy. The first eye exam I had stopped abruptly with my doctor asking, "How much to do you like glitter?" My response: How much do you like air? (exaggeration of the lifetime) After berating me about how glitter was bad for my eyes and how strange it was that I was wearing octangular glitter, he told me to swear I wouldn't wear glitter for a few months to never again.

I made a promise.

Last night I went to Northside Tavern for Pridefest. The front room was lezzie fest with empowering, acoustic, chick music. Awesome, but I went to the back to get my dance on with all the other queers. The minute I stepped into that back room, some one glitter fucks the SHIT out of me. (AKA dumps a cups worth of glitter over my head) The cosmos is trying to tell me something. Glitter will always find me. I cannot hide from her cruel but beautiful shimmer.

Being glittered wasn't as bad as what happened after. White Castle. I'm being punished this very minute for eating those sliders.

Ok, Wow. TMI.

What's the worst thing that's been dumped all over YOUR body?

You know what? Don't answer that. I don't want to know.