I forgot to tell y'all. I told everyone else.

Hillsboro Pride was awesome. My first time going there, but I definitely wasn't going to miss it, because Hillsboro is also home to the Westside QRC, so I knew I was going to run into a couple of friends there at least.

What I didn't know was that I was going to get the ultimate opportunity to do some IRL trolling.

You see, there was a gentleman there (and I use the term as loosely as I possibly can) from a lovely little hate group called Family First. This guy had a camera crew following him around with phones on selfie sticks, and a companion whose sole purpose was to carry around a squeaky car horn to make sure he got all the attention his tiny little ego desired. When I arrived at the park, I was wearing black jeans and a black hoodie, but I had my bi pride cape in my little rainbow swag bag, in case the weather improved. This piece of work was the first person I encountered as I was walking into pride.

I immediately knew that I had to do something about this man. So the first thing I asked him was, "How many times a day do you think about c*ck, sir?"

He angrily replied, "Never, unlike you!"

I replied that he was thinking about it right then, and he said nothing. I took his silence to mean he realized I was telling the truth, and then proceeded to say, "Every time you think about c*ck, my outfit is going to get a little gayer."

He walked away in a bit of a huff, and I found a picnic table to put my stuff down on. The rain had stopped, so I took off my hoodie, exposing my t-shirt:
I also got out my cape and put it on. I put my hoodie in my bag and made sure I had the bag out where everyone could see. Moments later, there he was again, walking around looking grumpy. I walked up to him and said, "What did I tell you? Every time you think about c*ck, my outfit gets a little gayer." He pretended to ignore me, naturally.

The next thing I did was I took some of the badges that I keep on my hoodie, including a sparkly progress pride flag, and put them along the top of my shirt, quite prominently. And there he was again, almost the moment I was done. I think you know what I said to him at this point. He ignored me, of course.

It was then that I ran into my friend Miranda, who volunteers at the QRC. She and I walked and talked, and I told her of my adventures. She laughed, but the whole while I was trying to think of how I could possibly increase the LGBTQness of what I was wearing. I had really maxed out at that point. Miranda assured me that the QRC booth would have fans to give away, so that I could take my outfit to the next level. Sure enough, they did, and although I was supposed to spend the wheel to win one, when I told them what I was doing, they gave one to me for the cause.

Sadly, I soon found out that the grumpy gentleman had been ejected from the festival. Oh well. I sat down in my camping chair and watched the stage show for a while. My time was almost up, as I had plans to attend the queer game night that was scheduled from 3:00 to 7:00. At about 10 minutes to 3:00, I packed up my chair and my stuff, and I left the park. Unfortunately, I left via the wrong exit, and had to walk around the block to find where I had parked my car. But as I did so, I heard a familiar voice coming over a megaphone. There was my special friend, around at the other park entrance, having once again gathered a crowd of angry onlookers to argue with.

Naturally, I started fanning myself as I approached him, and yelled, "THERE'S my grumpy guy! I told you, every time you think about c*ck, my outfit gets a little gayer!"

My friends, there is no more satisfying way to deal with a hateful piece of garbage than to laugh at him.