Sunday, June 29, 2003

Ex-Gay?


Spent the week-end being out and proud. Well, kind of proud, mostly just out. First me and Boo went old school on the Volvo (not sure why it didn't occur to me that we could always just drag out a hose and a bucket of suds and spend as many hours as we wanted scrubbing in the sun last week-end but hey, I don't get paid to think...!) Anyways, by the end of our washing experience we were both very wet and very silly and it didn't cost a damn thing! take that, Carwash Man!!

Then, feeling like we got away with something, me and Boo went to the Dyke March to meet up with the CP and eventually with the Miss Bee/Ms.B contingent. Even ran into the Best Friend and her fabulous Entourage toward the end of the eve which was unexpected and therefore even more special.

Today [Sundee], dropped the kid off with CP then, having been ditched again by Emerson (who, as he is trying to get his life together, is officially excused) wandered around the Civic Center with the rest of the out and proud listening to country music and trying not to buy some really cool surgical steel jewelry which would have necessitated a piercing in places that have suffered enough abuse. Instead i got a very fancy pinky ring which sports the single word that pretty much sums up everything I hope to become. [as an aside, and for the record, when I mentioned the new ring to Dirty Boy his response was "what's it say: 'F*cked'?!" It actually says "Princess" thank you very much! DB=prick]



Notwithstanding the snottiness, and having nothing better to do with my life, I ended up going over to Chez DB where we sat on the couch and watched Snatch on his big screen. Oh, and I may have tried to kiss the bastard. For the continuing record, he wouldn't let me but get this...

{*alert* the following may very well be "too much information" for some of you readers out there who think of me as the sister you never had. If descriptions of PG-13 humiliation and naughtyiness vis a vis the Chickster and another consenting adult ooge you out, then click here instead to go to a site that not only champions a very good cause but which actually makes a hell of a lot of sense in terms of a workable global solution to ending hunger. Good folks. Give them money.}

So, we're sitting there and the movie is over and DB has just said I can't kiss him [saving himself for Other Girl I guess.] and we end up having the following conversation:

Chick: Damn. Now I have a headache.
Dirty Boy: You know how you get rid of headaches?
Chick: How?
DB: You have to get the blood re-directed away from your head.
Chick: What?
DB: Re-directed.
Chick: How the hell do you do that?
DB: Like this...{scoots over to my side of the couch and starts unbuttoning my pants}

I am not kidding. This is the boy who earlier in the evening would have nothing to do with my top half because he's saving himself for marriage or something and now,thirteen minutes later, he trying to send the finger family South for a little recon! I, of course, was incensed, appalled and not just a little indignant. I didn't make him stop or anything cause, Christ, the guy is talented and his hand felt really good, but still (!!) What is it with boys and their complete inability to follow the accepted rules of engagement??



So, as I was saying, Snatch, the movie. Good flick. Guy Ritchie has got one hell of an eye for the good-looking boys, i'm telling ya. I don't know what kind of arrangement him and the Madone have but he could have been the poster child for the 2000 Pride parade. Check out the five minute faux jerk-off session in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels with the beautiful boys suddenly deciding to drown each other in seltzer. Christ! If that's not homerotic, I don't know what is. Anyways....



All of this brings me back to my original point which is that I have no idea if I am even still gay. I was surrounded by close to a thousand of the world's freshest females most of whom were sporting neon signs stating that they were, in fact, "bent" and the hottest I got was over some dragqueen playing keyboards in a band called PepperSpray. (Speaking of which, if anyone knows the band and can get close to "Peg" could you ask him if he needs a wife/girlfriend/groupie/decent web designer and give him my number?)

I mean, I know I don't want a girlfriend right now. I'm pretty sure (despite all the recent activity) that I don't want a boyfriend either, so where does that leave me? I can't even pretend to be politically Lesbo since the one extended encounter I had with an actual female I spent all my time rolling my eyes while she tried to convince me to go cheer for some chick because she was going to get boo-ed because she had won some contest and some people thought she shouldn't have won cause she was "currently heterosexually partnered"... blah, blah, blah. I mean, c'mon! "Currently Heterosexually Partnered"? What is that?? Anyway. I'm not political anymore. I'm never going to have real sex with a girl ever again and the vast majority of my tingly feeling are being caused by the male side of the species... I'm beginning to see why real Rug-munchers are so afraid of us Bi-chicks. Couldn't make up our damn minds if our lives depended on it. In the interest of honest reporting though, I do have to say I got a slight buzz from some gal who stopped to inquire if I had any aspirin. CP claims i blushed and threw a sidelong glance or two after the lady in question. I maintain that Miss CP is still recovering from all the drugs she did in the late eighties and as such is not the most reliable witness but, I will admit I may have been somewhat intrigued.

At any rate, the sun stayed mostly out and the week-end stayed mostly good. I give it a six overall. I'm tired now, though. And my head still hurts.

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