I do not recommend rehearsing during the Pride parade. Our apartment is about 50 feet from Yonge Street and Kate was doing her traditional Parade commentary from the dining room, so Chris and my attempt at running lines came out sounding like this:
"Orson, I am not being voted out of the family by you and -" "Dykes on Bikes! Yeeeeeeeeeaaaah!!"
"My mother was a terrible cook, so my father danced with her all the rest of the party to avoid eating her -" "Glittering, sequined, 20-foot reclining banana! Oh, Buddies . . ."
"Everyone in the family went out of their way to make you feel like -" "Leather bears! Leather bears! Man, it's gotta be hot in those chaps. It's too bad my brother is missing this . . ."
I know this is a couple of days late, but amoebic dysentery will do that. Hope you all had a safe and Happy Pride!
Slurpee count = 13
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