Yesterday I went to the Brimfield Flea Market (by myself). Dozens if not hundreds of gay couples there, lookin’ all domestic and happy and slightly overweight because they have found someone who loves them just the way they are. Bastards. It’s Mother’s Day weekend and I am sad and super lonely…also have a small belly that I cultivated this winter (in preparation for domesticity) that won’t go away. The flea market is huge, I spent most of the day there, although my only purchase was a $1 lazy eyed panda? figurine…oh and $5 for a latte, $6 for kettle corn, $6 for hot fried cinnamon sugar donut holes, and $7 for a smoked sausage dog.

I hope my Anderson Cooper finds me soon…would settle for Bill Nye or John Oliver though. The pics I took are kind of my personality: uniquely different, a bit weird, definitely not some boring and vanilla bullshit. There are also a couple of pics of this super cute dad I was following around, and some disturbingly racist pics that I felt needed to be seen because Black Lives Matter. Dear Mr. Right, hurry the fuck up and find me!