It's funny how I can spend an entire weekend celebrating pride, only to wake up on Sunday morning to a world of extraordinary shame.

I guess that's Newton's third law of motion for you. (Thanks, Wikipedia!) To every act of pride, there is an equal and opposite act of humiliation and disgrace. My weekend at Capital Pride proved no exception to this rule.

PRIDE: Wisely wearing sunglasses during Saturday afternoon's parade to eliminate the very real possibility of direct eye contact with those who I've been purposefully avoiding since last year's Pride.

SHAME: Exclaiming "I KNOW YOU FROM FRIENDSTER" (truthfully) every single time Jamie introduced me to someone at his party.

PRIDE: Resisting nearly all urges to talk about my landlady to strangers.

SHAME: Failing to correct my friend whenever he referred to me as a "famous blogger."

PRIDE: Spending Friday night with straight people.

SHAME: Spending Sunday night watching Fox News. (If that doesn't restore your gay pride to a state of equilibrium, I don't know what does.)