What A Feeling

DISCLAIMER:  Do NOT read the following post if you fall into one of the following categories: Lesbian, dyke, carpet muncher, rug-muncher, lemon squeezer, fuzz bumper, lesbo, muff diver, lezzie, lesbo, lez or any other term that refers to a homosexual female.

Well, hopefully if you're offended by the disclaimer, you've already stopped reading this because it ain't gonna get much prettier from here on in.  


One thing that REALLY bothers me, is when a breeder friend asks who my lesbian friends are.  Why would I be friends with a dyke? Besides the whole not straight thing, what else do gays and lesbians have in common?  NOTHING.  So why would I be friends with one?


**Just to clarify, I'm not referring to beautiful lezzies (ie Portia de Rossi) or really funny dykes (ie Ellen) but more like the plaid wearing, beer gut, spiky hair, butchy dykes (ie Rosie O' Donnell).

That being said, I also just want to point out that I am a fierce advocate of equality, and fully believe that all people deserve the same liberties and freedoms.  If 2 fat bull dykes want to get together and scissor the night away, by all means go right ahead. Just because we have to march with them for our basic civl rights, doesn't mean we like to live day to day with them.


So really though, where does this idea come from?  Why would lesbians and gays be friends?  What do we have in common? Gays are men who like cock.  Lesbians are women who like vag.  Gays like tight t-shirts, Britney Spears and sparkles. Lesbians like plaid, KD Lang and bad hygiene.  I'm not getting it.  


I, for one, avoid dykes like the plague.  When I know I'm going to be in the vicinity of lezzie frequented areas (Home Depot, Eddie Bauer, Addition Elle), I make sure to wear my running heels just in case I accidentally make eye contact with one 'cause those dykes are viii-cious. I'd be high steppin' my sweet hiney to the nearest workout facilities as lesbian's is alleRRRgic to exercise (that was Destine in a Margaret Cho voice).   I even saw a bull dyke swallow a twink whole once at Home Depot.  I was there shopping for orchids and light fixtures, typical Saturday, and it was horrifying.  I think he started reaching for the same set of wrenches or something, though she might have just mistaken him for an afternoon treat. I dunno. 


All I'm sayin' is those lezzies are like wild animals, unpredictable, smelly and hungry.  Dykes and gays = not friends.  


So to honor all things lesbian that we tolerate in our lives, yet wish we didn't have to, I've chosen to leave you this week with excerpts from the song "What A Feeling" by Irene Cara.  I've been informed that the dykes have "reclaimed" it as a lesbian anthem (something to do with some actress being in both Flashdance and The L Word) so I thought it might be appropriate.


First, when there's nothing but a slow glowing dream
That your fear seems to hide deep inside your mind
All alone I have cried silent tears full of pride
In a world made of steel, made of stone  


Well I hear the music, close my eyes, feel the rhythm
Wrap around, take a hold of my heart

[Chorus:]
What a feeling, bein's believin'
I can't have it all, now I'm dancin' for my life
Take your passion, and make it happen
Pictures come alive, you can dance right through your life



Words to live by.  So get up and dance.

Thriller

DISCLAIMER: PLEASE STOP READING IF YOU DON'T LIKE HALLOWEEN, GAYS, BUNNY RABBITS, OR SAILORS.

Well, if you haven't guessed it already by the disclaimer, HAPPY GAY CHRISTMAS!  Ok, ok, I know it's a few days late, but I've been practically raped, pillaged, burned and destroyed by my school schedule the past few weeks.  Unfortunately, I don't think that the pillaging will end anytime soon, so don't expect much from this post as my brain is pretty fried from school (and from the celebratory activities of the past weekend). 

After waiting all year the gays most participated holiday, All Hallows Eve, I was already exhausted by the time Saturday came about.  Mostly homework did me in but work didn't really help either. Real life can be so tiring.  Anyways, in typical gay style, the night came and went in a flash of glitters, bunny rabbits, hot pink lashes, feather boas, and some silver sparkly spandex (say that 6 times fast, you can really hear that crisp on the S). Somehow everyone made it home alive, including my bunny ears, so I'd call the night a skipping success. 


....Oh, my brain died already.  It sounds like a record that's stuck, repeating the same thoughts over and over again.


So, sadly, I'll leave you with only these few words from one of the truest diva's who ever walked this green Earth, the late and great Michael Jackson, RIP.  

The foulest stench is in the air
The funk of forty thousand years
And grizzly ghouls from every tomb
Are closing in to seal your doom


That's kind of how I feel every time I saunter home from the Calgary's lame ass gay bar. 


Now, I know I been makin' you wait a while for this little post, but I promise things will get better soon, my midway hell through fall semester is almost conquered and I'll be back sharing my sparkly adventures on a more regular basis. In the mean time, enjoy this awesome remix of the Halloween classic.