I have a special place for broken-down clowns in my broken-down heart. A few years ago, I concluded that the dude I was hanging out with for months was never going to actually ask me out on a date and I would need to take matters into my own hands. I invited him to be my escort to the Boulder Fringe Festival. I picked him up wearing lipstick, a fancy sundress embroidered with chevrons, and beaded sandals. He wore cargo shorts, flip-flops, and a t-shirt he got for free at a software conference. I felt super special. We spent almost an hour watching a silent clown make his musical way through the... Read More