Thanks for visiting. I'm a recent transplant to the Boston Massachusetts area, living with my boyfriend while he completes his MBA. I'm originally from Utah, I like Apple, FileMaker, writing about my feelings, and eating edamame.
In a parking lot in Provo, someone I recognized from an underwear party in Bountiful asked, “Are you here for Gay Day?” (Side note: I didn’t actually know I was going to an underwear party. I also think that “underwear” is actually code for “orgy” or “Ken will leave the premises if there are naked people ANYWHERE.)
After the question was asked, I looked around for the other gays and asked, “Is it Gay Day?” I secretly hoped it was because it would mean I could be less attractive to the gay population in Salt Lake City after I take off my shirt and expose the hairy beast growing on my ultra-white chest. The only thing good about my chest hair is that it hides SOME of my moles that are increasingly becoming more cancer-like. I’m hoping the hair on my back will soon grow to cover the rest of my brown and sometimes red obscenities. Then, I’d be really cool.
Once Eric and I had entered the Seven Peaks Water Resort, I got really excited. Excited like a teenager might get over exploding mailboxes or getting an A+ on an STD exam in health class. But after the first slide, I was nearly done. The turns. The drops. It was too fast. And I got scared.
After the second slide, I really was done.
But don’t worry; I’m still going to go to Raging Waters. You just wait. It’s going to be awesome.