The short version of my week is that I went over to Las Vegas to visit my folks a week ago, and then this past weekend was LA Pride. The long version is that I went out to Las Vegas to continue to feel like a failure as a daughter and adult, and subsequently to lose money (and a bit of hope), and then wait over six hours for my 45-minute flight. Clearly, awesome.
Oh, and to add insult to injury, my mom insisted on buying me a new girl bra, even though I patiently explained again that I rarely wear those kinds of bras, but she insisted I needed at least one, which required a FITTING by an old Las Vegas lady who was clearly a former exotic dancer and gave a huge effort towards not looking me in the eye. I chose to believe she was convinced I had put money in her g-string at some point in the very distant past. It made the experience bearable. I felt like a hog being trussed.