Welp. 281 days have passed since my last blog post. Anyone still here?
I’m not promising it won’t take me another 281 to post again, but if you’re hoping for more, know this: it’ll take individual high praises, persistent check-ins, and an aggressive number of high fives to hold me accountable. I respond extremely well to praise. Just sayin’.
I don’t know if you all remember, but 2,429 days ago (wow, time flies), I wrote a post about how fall is my favorite. And in reflecting—and in retrospect—that sentiment may have been a tad too strong… and a tad unfair to the other seasons. I’ve also started to fear that my shitting on summer in that post is gonna bring me some bad juju or something. So, with apology and love, I’m here to formally retract the blatant favoritism I showed to fall in 2018.
I’ve been trying to reframe some of my more judgey ‘tudes lately too—to lead with happier, smilier faces. And I’m reminded of that commitment by one very specific moment: this one time last year, a rude dude in a big tough guy truck yelled at me to “move the fck faster!” while trying to make his left turn onto Ashland from Catalpa. Never mind that I had the green light to cross. (Pardon me for thinking pedestrians have the right of way. Oh wait… they do.)
Anyway, just a few hours before that encounter, I’d been released from the hospital. I was walking across the street to pick up my pain meds from Walgreens. Internally, this man made my blood absolutely boil. But instead of reacting, I smiled and gave him a little wave—hospital bracelet and all—hoping he might see it and feel something human.
So thank you, rude sir. In being so rude, you reminded me of something important: that kindness matters, especially in a world that doesn’t always feel so gentle.
All that to say…
Summer, you’re a sweetie too. Sorry for playing favorites that one time. This one’s for you. 🫶
⸻
CHICAGO SUMMER IS ALMOST HERE.
At least that’s what I keep telling myself… despite waking up to a “feels like 34 degrees” situation this morning. And the 90-degree day last week isn’t helping, other than reminding me the weather might be just as bipolar as I am. So I guess… this is some kind of mental health advocacy post too???
I’m stoked for summer szn, y’all. And if you’re not yet on the same page, I hope the reasons below help shift your mindset.
In the past, I’ve referred to summer as the season I never quite feel ready for: sand in my pants, dodging major swamp ass, never quite feeling beach bod ready.
BUT THAT MINDSET IS NO MORE.
Bring on the swamp ass! If you can’t stop staring at my booty, just admit it—you’re probably experiencing some wet in other places too!! Lolz.
(Suddenly really hoping my coworkers don’t read this, but they do follow me on the ‘gram sooo… apologies for the awkiezzz in advance, Pie peeps.)
There’s so much to love about summer—beyond the obvious stuff like street fests and getting a tan.
WNBA season. NWSL season. Basically all our fav gay sports are back, bbyy!
And I am so here for it. Find me playing streetball at every opportunity—and really channeling my sporty spice energy with any other sport that’ll have me.
Also, every time I visit my parents’ place in summer (hi Mom, hi Dad—really hope you never find this, but if you do, I’ll definitely blame my more conservative cousins for showing you), I throw on long sleeves and compliment their aggressively efficient AC system just to hide my tattoos. And it’s in moments like that I’m reminded: summer is queerness on full display. The tattoos are out, the hair might get a big ol’ masc chop, the carabiners are dangling, the shorts are short, and the croppy toppies are crop-toppin’.
My job is literally to cure social isolation (another plug 🔌 for Pie); but has anyone done a wellness check on Lady Michigan 🌊 since last summer?! Imagine the loneliness she must experience without a bunch of crazy kids jumping in for months! For real though…
Patios are also back to having a purpose, which we love. I still remember my birthday in 2021—deep in the Covid era—celebrating in an outdoor bubble on the patio at Pilot Project. It was “feels like -17” degrees out. So yeah, patios are ready to get more action again.
And let’s be real… we all are.
Summer makes us lighter. Fewer mood swings, more park swings. More action in the day-to-day. Winkety-wink. 😉
And sure, in my old fall post I talked about how fall dates are hard to beat, but… let’s be honest: summer dates deserve to be on the leaderboard too.
You could come play streetball 🏀 with me. Or just show up as a sweaty spectator. Your call.
So Summer… I’m sorry. Truly. You deserve more credit. You bring the heat, the chaos, the carabiners. You bring the queer joy we need now more than ever.
You know what they say: sun’s out, sapphics out.
Here’s to you, Summer.
Fall may remain the stud of the seasons. But you, my friend—you’re bringing the sexy back. 🌈
⸻
PS: If you made it this far, you’re my favorite.
No pressure, but feel free to call me, beep me for the high praise, high fives, throw singles at me, etc.
Otherwise… like I said, might be another 281 until you hear from me.
xoxo,
Gossip Marty
Hawaiian Princess Pieces 