Latest Entry: Gay Festivities
Hi everyone, long time no update. It’s the crazy time of the year where everyone’s balancing end of the year duties like holiday shopping, planning trips home to the family, and working enough hours to be able to budget for it all. Sadly that doesn’t leave a lot of time for updating one’s website (please, let me pretend you guys give a shit).
A new Christmas record was reached for me this year when a family member gave me the most thoughtless gift I’d ever received. He gave me a set of noise dampening headphones. Yeah, noise dampening headphones. This guy has known me my whole life, he was there when I was diagnosed with my fucking hearing disability, and he gives me noise dampening headphones for Christmas? Granted I’m not completely deaf, but do you give a visually impaired guy a flashlight? Do you give a guy in a wheelchair track shoes? Why the hell do you give a guy with a hearing disability noise dampening headphones? So yeah, I’m in a pissy mood.
Guess what? I spent last Saturday night in a room surrounded by lesbians! WOOT! Epic win! Except they weren’t the sexy, friendly, nubile lesbians that inhabit half your porno collection. These were angry, man-hating, conspiracy theory touting lesbians. You know, the real kind.
It all started when I met a girl, “Sally,” at a pyramid scam meeting (what I was doing there is a story for another time). The meeting had ended and I decided I wanted to catch a movie. Sally happened to be going the same direction so we went downtown together. We were about four blocks from the movie theater when we met up with Sally’s friends: tall lesbian with shaved head and short fat lesbian with hempen dreadlocks. Sally then informed me she was a lesbian… which was good to know, I guess.
Well, I was just saying my goodbyes when, for some unfathomable reason, they invited me to hang out and get drunk with them for the night. I should probably point out that despite having weird hairstyles and odd fashion sense, these girls were still quite pretty. So I don’t know what they were thinking, maybe they haven’t been around very many drunken heterosexual men and just don’t know any better, but seriously if you liquor me up and stick me in a room for of beautiful homosexual girls, you’ll have a sexual harassment lawsuit just waiting to happen.
I did my best, I really did. I sat there like a good boy, drinking bacardi strawberry breezers and being on my best behavior. Oh, and don’t go judging my choice of drink, if everyone else in the room wants to act gay, I can too. Sadly, around my fifth or sixth drink, the best behavior I could muster started to get progressively worse.
I guess what got my attention was when the girls started deciding the game plan for later on in the night. Apparently the girls were debating whether they wanted to take me to a gay bar while I was drunk, or kick me out and go to ‘Lick,’ a lesbian bar. Short hemplock lesbian told me she wanted to take me out to a gay bar and watch homosexual men flirt with me. I asked SHL what she’d do if, while I was inebriated, a gay man tried to take me back to his place. She flashed me a wide, toothy grin and remarked that going home with a gay man would probably be good for me.
I had to ask her to repeat that. This chick actually felt that date rape, that is being coerced into having sex when you’re unable to give sober consent, was just fine as long as the person being victimized was a straight man. Holy hypocrisy batman! Call it stereotypical, but you’d think being a politically motivated, feminist lesbian, this girl would put date rape somewhere close to the top of the list of things that pissed her off, even if someone were just joking about it. But apparently it’s only tragic if it happens to a woman. Was I overreacting? Give me a break, I was drunk off my ass.
I briefly toyed with the idea of asking her how she’d feel waking up next to me the next day, but figured she’d probably claw my eyes out for even suggesting it. So I decided on a tact that was only slightly less offensive:
“Hey, you guys are chicks AND you’ve got the queer eye, meaning you probably have the best fashion sense in the world. If you dress me up like a girl and make me look like all pretty then they’ll let me into Lick too, right?” SHL reluctantly admitted they might, “Well, you gay folks tend to be pretty desparate since there’s less of you, I could hit on a lesbian using a really high voice, make her think I’m a chick, take her home, and then have her discover I’m a dude! We’d be making out, I’d get her to bring her face to my lap, and suddenly, BAM! Out comes my cock! It’d be like ‘The Crying Game’ except in reverse! That’d fucking rock!”
My smile slipped just a little as I noticed all three girls were glaring at me. Tall bald lesbian was polite enough to break the awkward silence, telling me they couldn’t take me to ‘Lick’. Drunk as I was, I just had to push the point. What, were they sexist? Isn’t it discriminatory to refuse me service just because of my gender, or my sexual orientation? Isn’t that illegal? I have to give TBL credit, she was very patient with me. She explained that it wasn’t really the law that was the issue. Yes, if I made enough fuss I could probably be let in and be served drinks. It’s just an unspoken courtesy that they don’t bring in horny boys who could potentially hit on half the girls in the club. TBL explained that it wasn’t anything against me, it was just that brining me in might make some of the girls in the club feel threatened, and she’d feel bad if she created that kind of situation. I reluctantly conceded TBL had a point.
So I went back to sipping my bacardi and cracking jokes. “What has four legs and no ears? Mike Tyson’s dog! Wacka wacka wacka!” “Would you rather have a lion eat you, or a tiger? Personally I’d rather the lion ate the tiger! Hyuk hyuk!”
I think at that point, or pretty close to that point, SHL decided for some reason that I was a potential racist. So she warned me that if I made so much as a single racist joke, I was gone. Of course I hadn’t said anything remotely racist the whole night, but she insisted on repeating her warning. Three times. When she opened her mouth to issue the warning a fourth time, I figured it was time to call her bluff. But where had I heard a racist joke? I sat, and I thought. I bit my tongue and I ran my fingers through my hair… AND FINALLY I HAD IT: FULL METAL JACKET!
“Oh! Oh! Oh! How do you stop five black boys from raping a white woman! Toss them a basketball! Wacka wacka wacka!”
“Get out!”
“Oh come on!”
“Fuck you, get out!”
“But that’s full metal jacket, it’s a classic.”
“Out!”
I continued to protest until I realized there wasn’t really any reason for me to want to stay there anyways. So I pulled on my jacket, wished TBL and ‘Sally’ a nice night, and out the door I went. When I reached the nearest strip bar, I reflected on how the night had gone. You might not think it, but I actually felt relieved. Load me up with liquor and I’m usually all over girls so hard I put Pepe le Pew to shame. The fact that I merely offended these chicks with racism rather than traumatizing and molesting them is actually a large step up for me. Looks like the New Year is already showing promise.
Osprey
