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December 30, 2017





West Hollywood Pride Festival was part cluster fuckery and part fabulosity.  The line to get into the festival was REDIC for starters.  That shit curled down Santa Monica Blvd.  Lucky for me, I had one of those all access VIP bracelets (it’s how I do, shoot).  But even the VIP entrance had a line.  A bitch tried to elbow his way past me in full grandiosity mode so somebody was about to get clocked–I could not help myself.  I raised my wrist and lined it up to his and was like, “Uh, we have the same wristband, the line is right behind me.  Thank you.”  He smacked his lips at me took his rightful place at the back of the line.

I didn’t attend the festival last year.  Poor planning on my part, so I didn’t know what to expect since the West Hollywood park went up.  When the West Hollywood park was first renovated, I figured it was specially designed to accommodate West Hollywood Pride.  I figured incorrectly.  Tents and booths were piled on top of one another and I could NOT find my way around.  I reckon I’m to blame since I walked right past the arrows that conveniently pointed to the different locations, but in all fairness, we never needed those arrows before.  I was scheduled to man The Fight Magazine booth, which is one of the magazines that I write for.  Anyway, I could not find that damn booth.  I walked around aimlessly for like ever.  Of course, my phone didn’t work, because every cunt was on Grindr, completely blocking my fucking frequency.


The Fight was located in the Erotic City section for no particular reason.  I remember the days when you couldn’t enter this section without proper age verification, but this year that section was pretty tame.  You had your leather daddys, and your porn puppies posing for sketch artists and there was an art section that gave you images of hard dicks, but it was mostly blood play art with hard penises covered in gore … which is cool, if you’re into that sort of thing.

Once I found The Fight booth and I was in position to hand out goody bags, I started to have fun.  The crowd was very receptive.  The crowd was colorful.  And the festival was clearly well attended.  We were out of goody bags in no time, so I was left with more than enough time to get acquainted with the entire festival.

Let the real fun begin!!!  I met the one and only WeHo Jesus, who is the nicest guy ever.  Everywhere he went people crowded around him.  I wanted to take a picture where he is pointing an accusing finger at me, but he refused.  He said he’s better at hugging, so we hugged it out.  I ran into Kay Sadia and friend from Chico’s Angels (a must see show if you get the chance).  And of course, I ran into a cluster fuck of past tricks that I’d rather not talk about.  And I’m still kicking myself for totally missing The Pointer Sisters performing live at the main dance tent, which sucked ass.

The booths were interesting.  Somebody was straight up selling a singing toothbrush, which was REDIC!!!  No, I do not want Justin Bieber’s voice in my mouth while I’m brushing my teeth.  I noticed these hot twins made it to WeHo this year–pushing an old dead stock of Land of Apparel tank tops and t-shirts.  They offer you a twin sandwich photo with a purchase of $20.00 or more … REDIC!!!  How do I know?  I fell for their twin sandwich at San Diego Pride last year, and they’re selling the same shit a year later.  Oh yeah, I also found an old photo of me from The Tweakers Project campaign.  EMBARRASSING!  My friends gave me so much shit.

Below are some pics of this year’s festival.

IMG_1IMG_4107 IMG_4109 IMG_4126 IMG_4135 IMG_4134 IMG_4129IMG_4141 IMG_4145 IMG_4148 IMG_4152 IMG_4154 IMG_4159 IMG_4174 IMG_4176 IMG_4181 IMG_4185 IMG_4191 IMG_4195IMG_4213 IMG_4207 IMG_4196 IMG_4228 IMG_4287 IMG_4288 IMG_4289 IMG_4291 IMG_4297 IMG_4302 IMG_4306 IMG_4311 IMG_4313 IMG_4327 IMG_4337 IMG_4342 IMG_4502 IMG_4510 IMG_4519 IMG_4535 IMG_4548 IMG_4612 IMG_4613 IMG_4627

After manning The Fight booth, I met up with my friends David and Jason.  I was ready to dance my mutherfucking ass off–it’s been a while–unfortunately the main dance stage was under a pile of dirt, so the more people danced, the more we ate dust.  I was like, fuck it, let’s dance anyway, but our eyes were burning after a while, so we had to vacate the dust bowl after a few songs–but no matter, The Latin tent is always shitload of fun and we spent a lot of time at the hip hop section, so we still got some dancing out of our system.


I ran into a lot of people that I know–some that I haven’t seen in years.  It was also kind of funny to see people who I knew to be sober who are clearly sober no longer, judging from a cup of beer they poured down their throat.  I was like, “Hi!” And they were on pause with a guilty look on their faces.  Seriously, I’m sooo not that guy–hating on a bitch, cuz he’s decided to drink—“Do your thing boo.  Get your drink on.  It’s none of my business.  No kind of judgement on my end whatsoever.  Sobriety is always there for you when you need it.  Do your research (whispering … for shame).”

And speaking of high spirits: Did you guys hear about the drunk guy that climbed a tree and got stuck up there?  They had to seal off the area and call the fire department to bring his ass down with a ladder.  I bet that cost a hefty fine.  Can we say, EMBARRASSING!!!???  It reminded me of the time I got drunk and climbed a pole that was holding up the dance tent at Long Beach Pride many moons ago.  Everyone cheered.  I was wearing combat boots and the heel got jammed between a rope and the pole.  A lesbian grabbed me by the belt and pulled my ass down, not knowing my boot was stuck, so at one point I was dangling from that pole upside down.  “Agh!  My shoe is stuck!” I tried to tell her, but she thought I was resisting, so she pulled harder.  I had to remove my boot to climb down and then I had to climb back up to fetch it.  She was like, “Congratulations.  You just earned your ticket out of here.”  I was like, “Are you serious?”  I was sooo embarrassed.  Of course, I convinced her to let me stay.  My friends were pissed.

Drunk people are funny.

So where was I?  Oh yeah, another Gay Pride Festival has come and gone in West Hollywood.  I reckon it takes a lot of work to put this event together, so you gotz to give it up and applaud that there were no major catastrophes.  Judging from the size of the line that snaked down to Koontz Hardware, I would say the festival sold a lot of tickets, so it must’ve been success.  Who cares that I was being stopped numerous times by people asking me where everything was—“Do you know where Bill’s Café is located (the sober oasis, which I completely missed).  “I think it’s that way,” I told one guy, and the annoyed bitch was like, “You don’t know … ” which was spot on.

OH YESS!!! And how can I forget!  Of course, I ran into Dragorilla on my walk home.  I saw her standing in between two parked cars on Santa Monica Blvd.  She was putting on a show for the moving traffic, which is pretty typical.  She was battling it out for attention with another big–I’m talkin’ about HUGE man, also in a sheer thong with a glowing lifesaver for a prop.  He was standing on the corner only a few feet away.  The two were just standing there, scaring people.  I could see the headlines now: Dragorilla and Mothra Battle for Attention in West Hollywood!


Anyway, I hope you had a happy pride my darrlinks.

Remember, there’s always next year.




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About Paulo Murillo,

Paulo has been writing for the gay media for over 16 years. He made his debut as a columnist for FAB! Newspaper. He has written for LA Health News, IN Los Angeles, Frontiers and The Fight Magazine. He has been featured in The Bay Area Reporter, XY Magazine, Bay Windows, Windy Times, and Press Pass Q, He has been quoted in the pages of Edge Magazine, Gay & Lesbian Times, Seattle Gay News, Fuges, and in a shitload of online news outlets and blogs, thanks in large part to Rex Wocker’s Quote on Quote – Wockner Wire.

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