We saw quite a few types of people at St. Louis’s PrideFest a few weeks back, and I believe I would have given any of them a kidney (but only if they NEEDED a kidney, as I have only one to give). I would even give the Repent and Believe guy my kidney, but I would probably sit him down and let him know that he’ll be leaving the hospital wearing the kidney of an unapologetic LGBTQ ally. (I would also tell him to take the anti-rejection meds on schedule because I don’t want my kidney to crap out on him.)
I purchased my shirt here, and I think a few people read it and didn’t understand what it meant. There is a time and a place for everything, and PrideFest isn’t necessarily the time and place for a grammar lesson. Nor is it the time to scream about damnation. (Is there ever a time to scream about damnation?)
In unrelated news, my mom and dad just delivered a fresh batch of brownies, my kids and husband are at Warped Tour, and I’m trying to figure out where that smell is coming from.