Showing posts with label homo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label homo. Show all posts
Monday, April 20, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
Lesbian Fail; Or, Reason #18, Why I'm Sorta Gay...
I went to a gay bar last week, and while I did have a conversation that began with, "So what do you do?" and ended with "Let's exchange numbers!", it was very ungay and therefor this WFI is about my experience at the same gay bar TONIGHT.
So, we begin with my friend who shall be known as RK, because I promised her I wouldn't tell anyone what happened (even though there are about ten witnesses - more on that as the story progresses), so, we shall use made up initials.
RK and her boyfriend recently broke up. And RK is very, very upset about it. Especially because she has always thought of herself as independent and not the type to actually crave a relationship, or to be hurt by one. She is one of those girls that never, ever, ever talks about boys, and will have a boyfriend for months and not even mention him, and none of her friends even know about it. In fact, I never even knew she had a boyfriend at all! Ever! In her life! Let alone the many that were discussed over 10 beers (1 mine, 9 hers) last night.
Anyway, immediately following the breakup, RK picked up a few seasons of the L-Word and decided that she is/can/will be gay! We began discussing the show, because yes, I've seen entire seasons of the L-Word (Reason #16 maybe??). These conversations became more and more like a competition; who is gayer and who wants to prove it! Normally, this is a competition I would win sans any effort whatsoever. I have shoebox after shoebox filled with sports cards in my closet (Reason #15) so don't even try to out lesbian me. But anyway, I agreed that the next time she was in town, we would spend a night out at a gay bar making out with girls and doing some serious man hating. And yes, we were under the impression that at a gay bar, one is swarmed by members of the same sex looking for a hook up.
Well, the night had arrived. I pick up RK and we drive to the only bar I know of; the bar I ended up at the week before (perhaps I will transcribe that story another time). It's karaoke night. If anything there should be some killer people watching going on, right? No. Unfortunately there are only about twenty people in the bar. None of them are attractive, and none of them are unique/crazy/trashy enough to warrant any sort of whispering and giggling. Oh well. We assume it's early, and all the hot chicks are on their way. We drink some beers (me 1, her 3 [plus two margaritas from earlier]) and we smoke some cigarettes. We are slightly manhandled by a dude out on the patio. A totally straight dude. A complete bro who had no idea he was in a gay bar. None. After laughing at his incompetence for a moment, we brush it off and dub it a minor mishap in a our quest for gayness.
We return to the inside bar to finish our beers. As we are sitting on some stools, reading the lyrics to the amazing song** that is scrolling across the flatscreen, we are approached by another man.
Man: Hey, are you two gay?
We were completely caught off guard. RK and I had not discussed what to do if this question were asked of us. We panicked. We froze like fish sticks. We looked at each other. We shrugged, we mumbled, we asked him to define the word "gay". We eventually settled on "We're thinking about it?". Inflection included.
Man: Yeah I didn't think you were gay. I'm not gay either, I am just here with some gay friends.
Pause.
RK: Wait...why didn't you think we were gay? What isn't gay about us??
Man: You just don't look gay.
RK: What do you mean I don't look gay?? I look so gay! I'm at a gay bar! I'm wearing a tank top! It's sheer!
Me: People think I'm gay all the time! I'm even wearing a sweater tonight! [Let's be honest, I wasn't dressed any differently than usual, except I had on a sweater, and not a sweatshirt...]
RK and I quickly headed to the bathroom, where we admired ourselves in the full size mirror, before we left the bar to meet up with a friend who was in town.
Me: Well I think you look totally gay.
RK: Thank you! I like your sweater.
End Gay Bar Scene. Begin Scene With Straight Dudes In House.
We arrive at the bro house to meet up with D, a high school friend who is in from New York for a mere 36 hours. Also present, S, N, K, Ma, Mi, Dy, Da, P, and someone I think I'm forgetting but that probably isn't important. Immediately upon our arrival we ask the boys if we look gay. They don't understand the question and tell us to make out. We describe the previous events of the evening and I repeatedly point to my sweater and say, "sweater!!!!!!", as RK keeps telling them how she is so, so, so gay.
Flash forward an hour we are deciding to leave. The live reggae jams have come out, and we've had enough of the sausage fest. After all, we're lesbians, right? We go in search of D, find him sitting on a stool by himself in a room adjacent to the kitchen, and walk in to say our goodbyes. RK is in front of me and leans down to give him a hug. I notice the hug is taking a little long. Then I notice some back rubbing, followed by the words "just go for it". I remove myself from the room.
A wild, 20 minute make out session ensues. Heavy breathing, loud, loud, loud sighs, rolling on the floor, and smashing against the wall can all be heard. Clearly there was dry humping. Oh, and when I said "heard" I also meant "seen", because there is a giant window shared between the kitchen and this back room. And naturally, all in attendance stand around to watch. RK and D are oblivious to this.
RK stops the making out for a second. Did she finally notice the audience?? Oh, no, she didn't. Instead she just had something to tell D:
I don't think I'm gay.
They make out more.
D: You're bi.
Eventually Da, a huge, sweaty, red faced drunk guy that I've despised since the 8th grade, comes barreling into the kitchen. Apparently this whole time he hadn't noticed he was by himself in the living room... He tells us he thinks D went home because he hasn't seen him in a while. He makes eye contact with no one and goes galumphing into the back room where his presence immediately puts an end to any romancing (how could it not...). RK and D notice their audience, exit the room into the kitchen, RK hugs all the other boys goodbye (I think they felt cheated), and we go home.
In the car RK tells me she is so embarrassed, and even more sexual frustrated than she had been in the beginning of the night. I tell her that I cannot believe she began to sex up D while I was standing right behind her. "You were in the room?????", she asks me, astonished. I WAS IN THE FUCKING ROOM, HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW THIS??? She profusely apologizes and finally gets the chance to check her phone for the text message I had sent her during the GreatMake Out of March Dry Hump of the Century.
you are so not gay.
RK: Want to go to San Francisco's Pride?
**(youtube comments are priceless)
So, we begin with my friend who shall be known as RK, because I promised her I wouldn't tell anyone what happened (even though there are about ten witnesses - more on that as the story progresses), so, we shall use made up initials.
RK and her boyfriend recently broke up. And RK is very, very upset about it. Especially because she has always thought of herself as independent and not the type to actually crave a relationship, or to be hurt by one. She is one of those girls that never, ever, ever talks about boys, and will have a boyfriend for months and not even mention him, and none of her friends even know about it. In fact, I never even knew she had a boyfriend at all! Ever! In her life! Let alone the many that were discussed over 10 beers (1 mine, 9 hers) last night.
Anyway, immediately following the breakup, RK picked up a few seasons of the L-Word and decided that she is/can/will be gay! We began discussing the show, because yes, I've seen entire seasons of the L-Word (Reason #16 maybe??). These conversations became more and more like a competition; who is gayer and who wants to prove it! Normally, this is a competition I would win sans any effort whatsoever. I have shoebox after shoebox filled with sports cards in my closet (Reason #15) so don't even try to out lesbian me. But anyway, I agreed that the next time she was in town, we would spend a night out at a gay bar making out with girls and doing some serious man hating. And yes, we were under the impression that at a gay bar, one is swarmed by members of the same sex looking for a hook up.Well, the night had arrived. I pick up RK and we drive to the only bar I know of; the bar I ended up at the week before (perhaps I will transcribe that story another time). It's karaoke night. If anything there should be some killer people watching going on, right? No. Unfortunately there are only about twenty people in the bar. None of them are attractive, and none of them are unique/crazy/trashy enough to warrant any sort of whispering and giggling. Oh well. We assume it's early, and all the hot chicks are on their way. We drink some beers (me 1, her 3 [plus two margaritas from earlier]) and we smoke some cigarettes. We are slightly manhandled by a dude out on the patio. A totally straight dude. A complete bro who had no idea he was in a gay bar. None. After laughing at his incompetence for a moment, we brush it off and dub it a minor mishap in a our quest for gayness.
We return to the inside bar to finish our beers. As we are sitting on some stools, reading the lyrics to the amazing song** that is scrolling across the flatscreen, we are approached by another man.
Man: Hey, are you two gay?
We were completely caught off guard. RK and I had not discussed what to do if this question were asked of us. We panicked. We froze like fish sticks. We looked at each other. We shrugged, we mumbled, we asked him to define the word "gay". We eventually settled on "We're thinking about it?". Inflection included.
Man: Yeah I didn't think you were gay. I'm not gay either, I am just here with some gay friends.
Pause.
RK: Wait...why didn't you think we were gay? What isn't gay about us??
Man: You just don't look gay.
RK: What do you mean I don't look gay?? I look so gay! I'm at a gay bar! I'm wearing a tank top! It's sheer!
Me: People think I'm gay all the time! I'm even wearing a sweater tonight! [Let's be honest, I wasn't dressed any differently than usual, except I had on a sweater, and not a sweatshirt...]
RK and I quickly headed to the bathroom, where we admired ourselves in the full size mirror, before we left the bar to meet up with a friend who was in town.
Me: Well I think you look totally gay.
RK: Thank you! I like your sweater.
End Gay Bar Scene. Begin Scene With Straight Dudes In House.
We arrive at the bro house to meet up with D, a high school friend who is in from New York for a mere 36 hours. Also present, S, N, K, Ma, Mi, Dy, Da, P, and someone I think I'm forgetting but that probably isn't important. Immediately upon our arrival we ask the boys if we look gay. They don't understand the question and tell us to make out. We describe the previous events of the evening and I repeatedly point to my sweater and say, "sweater!!!!!!", as RK keeps telling them how she is so, so, so gay.
Flash forward an hour we are deciding to leave. The live reggae jams have come out, and we've had enough of the sausage fest. After all, we're lesbians, right? We go in search of D, find him sitting on a stool by himself in a room adjacent to the kitchen, and walk in to say our goodbyes. RK is in front of me and leans down to give him a hug. I notice the hug is taking a little long. Then I notice some back rubbing, followed by the words "just go for it". I remove myself from the room.
A wild, 20 minute make out session ensues. Heavy breathing, loud, loud, loud sighs, rolling on the floor, and smashing against the wall can all be heard. Clearly there was dry humping. Oh, and when I said "heard" I also meant "seen", because there is a giant window shared between the kitchen and this back room. And naturally, all in attendance stand around to watch. RK and D are oblivious to this.
RK stops the making out for a second. Did she finally notice the audience?? Oh, no, she didn't. Instead she just had something to tell D:
I don't think I'm gay.
They make out more.
D: You're bi.
Eventually Da, a huge, sweaty, red faced drunk guy that I've despised since the 8th grade, comes barreling into the kitchen. Apparently this whole time he hadn't noticed he was by himself in the living room... He tells us he thinks D went home because he hasn't seen him in a while. He makes eye contact with no one and goes galumphing into the back room where his presence immediately puts an end to any romancing (how could it not...). RK and D notice their audience, exit the room into the kitchen, RK hugs all the other boys goodbye (I think they felt cheated), and we go home.
In the car RK tells me she is so embarrassed, and even more sexual frustrated than she had been in the beginning of the night. I tell her that I cannot believe she began to sex up D while I was standing right behind her. "You were in the room?????", she asks me, astonished. I WAS IN THE FUCKING ROOM, HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW THIS??? She profusely apologizes and finally gets the chance to check her phone for the text message I had sent her during the Great
you are so not gay.
RK: Want to go to San Francisco's Pride?
**(youtube comments are priceless)
Sunday, March 22, 2009
I went to a strip club.
well, abby had her bachelorette party. which was planned out by someone who wasn't me. which is how we ended up at the strip club.
i had never been to a strip club, nor have i ever wanted to go. in fact, my only experience involving a stripper was at a high school friend's birthday party; he was the least expensive stripped in all of tucson's yellowpages. can you even imagine??? and go figure, he needed a ride home afterward (i have no idea how he got there in the first place). giving the stripper a ride home was not something any of us were willing to do. what we were willing to do however, was call him a cab and shove him out the door to wait for it.
anyway.
so who else was on the guest list for the evening's events? oh, just one of abby's friends who has only been drunk once in her life, loves to embroider, and has a 5 month old baby at home (she left early), and abby's friend J, with whom i went to high school (i used to go up to her locker when she had it open, stick my arm in, and pull everything out of it and onto the floor, and then walk away, if that tells you anything about our relationship). oh, J's friend that none of knew was also in attendance. my point here is that the obvious "we're here cuz it's a wild and crazy bachelorette party" visual was not attainable. we were, instead, a small group of girls, at the strip club.
in my attempt to avoid the strip club altogether, i figured we should stop at the meet rack (be sure to read aaron a's review). ( quick facts about the meet rack: a man who calls himself "god" runs it; they brand people with an image of god's face (50 cents off drinks for life!); there is a room filled with sex equipment (swings, chairs, cuffs etc); this room is also filled with pictures of people engaging in sex on the equipment; AA members get free drinks for life; God has a gold and diamond ring shaped like a penis that he wears proudly.) so obviously, i thought the bar would be weird and exciting enough to get me out of the strip club adventure...but it turns out, the other girls were just too creeped out by the vibrating dildos on the bar to even order a second round.
it was strip club time.
the bachelorette, drunk, but not wasted, partook in an onstage strip show. motorboating, simulated oral sex, rubbing and grinding with not one, not two, but three strippers, including one with braces, who she later tracked down for a little private lap dance. there was some legit, cute strippers, i wont lie. so i was a little annoyed that she preferred the beat chicks. but of course, the hottest girl in the club wasn't even a stripper. she was a waitress. clearly though, none of this actually matters because i was not about to, and now i never, ever will, partake in any sort of lap dance. really though, motorboating?? i'll just keep ordering beers.
so, in the end, the best part about the strip club? how my reeboks looked in the black light. the worst part about the strip club? how my sneakers felt covered in a stripper's spilled red bull.
i had never been to a strip club, nor have i ever wanted to go. in fact, my only experience involving a stripper was at a high school friend's birthday party; he was the least expensive stripped in all of tucson's yellowpages. can you even imagine??? and go figure, he needed a ride home afterward (i have no idea how he got there in the first place). giving the stripper a ride home was not something any of us were willing to do. what we were willing to do however, was call him a cab and shove him out the door to wait for it.
anyway.
so who else was on the guest list for the evening's events? oh, just one of abby's friends who has only been drunk once in her life, loves to embroider, and has a 5 month old baby at home (she left early), and abby's friend J, with whom i went to high school (i used to go up to her locker when she had it open, stick my arm in, and pull everything out of it and onto the floor, and then walk away, if that tells you anything about our relationship). oh, J's friend that none of knew was also in attendance. my point here is that the obvious "we're here cuz it's a wild and crazy bachelorette party" visual was not attainable. we were, instead, a small group of girls, at the strip club.
in my attempt to avoid the strip club altogether, i figured we should stop at the meet rack (be sure to read aaron a's review). ( quick facts about the meet rack: a man who calls himself "god" runs it; they brand people with an image of god's face (50 cents off drinks for life!); there is a room filled with sex equipment (swings, chairs, cuffs etc); this room is also filled with pictures of people engaging in sex on the equipment; AA members get free drinks for life; God has a gold and diamond ring shaped like a penis that he wears proudly.) so obviously, i thought the bar would be weird and exciting enough to get me out of the strip club adventure...but it turns out, the other girls were just too creeped out by the vibrating dildos on the bar to even order a second round.it was strip club time.
the bachelorette, drunk, but not wasted, partook in an onstage strip show. motorboating, simulated oral sex, rubbing and grinding with not one, not two, but three strippers, including one with braces, who she later tracked down for a little private lap dance. there was some legit, cute strippers, i wont lie. so i was a little annoyed that she preferred the beat chicks. but of course, the hottest girl in the club wasn't even a stripper. she was a waitress. clearly though, none of this actually matters because i was not about to, and now i never, ever will, partake in any sort of lap dance. really though, motorboating?? i'll just keep ordering beers.
so, in the end, the best part about the strip club? how my reeboks looked in the black light. the worst part about the strip club? how my sneakers felt covered in a stripper's spilled red bull.
Monday, February 4, 2008
...let's continue yesterdays WFI...
Yesterday's WFI can be found here, you lazy bastard that refuses to scroll down.
And just this very moment I received a text message from Ta.
"Hey you big homo. Jew jokes today at work."
I only work weekends, so, with today being a Monday, I wasn't around to partake in the Jew jokes.
No one there thinks I'm Jewish, but they allllllllll think I'm gay.
Also, I just googled "gay jew" to find a good picture for this post, and not only were the results not offensive, but they were also just boring. So, no picture!
And just this very moment I received a text message from Ta.
"Hey you big homo. Jew jokes today at work."
I only work weekends, so, with today being a Monday, I wasn't around to partake in the Jew jokes.
No one there thinks I'm Jewish, but they allllllllll think I'm gay.
Also, I just googled "gay jew" to find a good picture for this post, and not only were the results not offensive, but they were also just boring. So, no picture!
Sunday, October 14, 2007
WFI: Editing the Blog's Content.
Back when Gem had posted dirty pictures in her Pee Party entry, we were getting about 24 hits a day. Which is brilliant considering I only know about two and a half people; Gem being the half, because she's mostly just an internet persona. However, I was way beyond grossed out when I checked the "referrals" stats, and noticed people were only finding out page by looking up things like "peeing boys" and "piss porn".
That's not cool.
So I edited her post and removed the images, which were directly linked to their respective fetish sites.
And ever since our daily hits number has been dwindling. First it went down to 20, and then 19, and then 14, and then 12...
But we bounced back! Who knew so many people googled things like, "is Brandi Carlile gay??" or "How gay is Brandi Carlile!" And who knew that the 28th return was none other than "Another reason why I'm SORTA gay!!!! Wow, right?
(And now this post will pop up as a find too!!!)
Ah, but alas, back down it went.
To 7.
SEVEN.
Five of those are probably me and Gem, seeing if the other wrote anything.
We haven't, by the way.
But for our one dedicated reader (or is it "one, dedicated reader"?), there will be some craigslist posts to come.
But from now on, all direct links to pornography sites stay up!!
That's not cool.
So I edited her post and removed the images, which were directly linked to their respective fetish sites.
And ever since our daily hits number has been dwindling. First it went down to 20, and then 19, and then 14, and then 12...
But we bounced back! Who knew so many people googled things like, "is Brandi Carlile gay??" or "How gay is Brandi Carlile!" And who knew that the 28th return was none other than "Another reason why I'm SORTA gay!!!! Wow, right?
(And now this post will pop up as a find too!!!)
Ah, but alas, back down it went.
To 7.
SEVEN.
Five of those are probably me and Gem, seeing if the other wrote anything.
We haven't, by the way.
But for our one dedicated reader (or is it "one, dedicated reader"?), there will be some craigslist posts to come.
But from now on, all direct links to pornography sites stay up!!
Sunday, September 16, 2007
WFI - sharing a blog with Gem who NEVER CONTRIBUTES
or is it, WFI - sharing a blog with LEWIS who contributes far too much!!!
either way, i have a few things for today.
THING NUMBER ONE
we'll start off with my bike!!
it now looks like this....
and you might say spray painting my "pretty bike" a ghastly florescent orange, and not even limiting the paint to the frame but painting the tires/pedals/gears/spokes was the worst fucking idea. but i think it's a wonderful theft deterrent (and waaaay less geeky than the purple...)!
THING NUMBER TWO
here is a screen shot of our site meter - which monitors who comes here, how long they stay, where they're from, how they got here etc (because we like to pretend we are important enough to know that stuff). most of our hits come from people looking for PEE PORN. because of this!!!
and
THING NUMBER THREE
a wonderful craigslist personal ad. WFI all the way.
either way, i have a few things for today.
THING NUMBER ONE
we'll start off with my bike!!
it now looks like this....
and you might say spray painting my "pretty bike" a ghastly florescent orange, and not even limiting the paint to the frame but painting the tires/pedals/gears/spokes was the worst fucking idea. but i think it's a wonderful theft deterrent (and waaaay less geeky than the purple...)!
THING NUMBER TWO
here is a screen shot of our site meter - which monitors who comes here, how long they stay, where they're from, how they got here etc (because we like to pretend we are important enough to know that stuff). most of our hits come from people looking for PEE PORN. because of this!!!
and
THING NUMBER THREE
a wonderful craigslist personal ad. WFI all the way.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
a night of brandi carlile: or, another reason why i am "sorta gay".
so last night i randomly decided to go to the brandi carlile show because i heard she's pretty good.okay okay, i'll admit it: i have been planning all month to go because i fucking love her albums.
WHAT'S IT TO YA????
obviously i don't feel that my owning every single juliana hatfield album (including imports and singles!!!), six jordana brewster movies, three kelly clarkson posters (and her calendar) and two pairs of GAP Boyfriend jeans is gay enough, so i sometimes feel the need to seek out live music by lesbian icons. and i've been doing it for years!!!!
but last night was different...because somehow, despite the beautiful calming sound of an acoustic guitar and two bald men harmonizing background vocals...
i got into a verbal altercation with two blonde, drunk, thirty something california
the story isn't even that great. in fact the only really great part about it was that it happened at a brandi carlile show!! who does that??!! so here it is in short:
two girls = super drunk and super loud. there is nothing wrong with talking at a concert, but there is something cuuuuhraaazyyyy when your voice carries over the music, which is being run through AMPLIFIERS. like woah! i can hear every syllable! every single syllAAAAAble!!
the group behind these girls had asked them to quiet down, resulting in their extremely rude, obnoxious, middle-school like response of "NO WE AREN'T. YOU CAN MOVE THEN. OHMYGOD CALM DOWN." followed by them talking shit about the group who asked them to be quiet, but loudly enough for them to hear it - you know what i mean? there was also some neck action/snapping in the face and it was just lame.
and then i felt it... one of them tapped on my back... she wanted to talk to me...
"hey can i ask you a question??? are we being too loud??"
keep in mind, the show is going on. music is being played. and yes, they were being loud.
my response?
"well, do you want me to make up an answer? or tell you the truth? i can do either, i'm super good at making stuff up."
eek! people are watching!
blahblahblah, then they got all offended, and i tried to calm them down...
"you're drunk, you're loud, just quiet down and have fun! it's cool! we're all friends here!"
oh no! the extra drunk friend responds with, "I'M NOT DRUNK AND WE AREN'T BEING LOUD!" oh no, she put her finger in my face. IN MY FACE.
oh no, my passive aggressive form of confrontation (aka my PAFoC) kicks in and i say: "lady, that is the biggest lie i've heard all week. ALL WEEK LONG. since last saturday. the biggest, worst, lamest lie i have ever heard. out of the hundreds of lies i have heard in the last seven days, yours is number one. liar liar liar! now just shut up!"
OH MY GOD. i turned around before she could
i don't know what the WFI was here, but i just had to share that story.
also, here is my favorite piece of dialogue from the evening. setting: the nastiest dive bar of all time, in the back alley where everyone goes to smoke cigarettes. players: drunk Sarah, her friend Wasted Emily, and a Random Girl eating a Slim Jim.
drunk sarah and wasted emily are rolling their own cigarettes. wasted emily is wearing cut off shorts, and drunk sarah is wearing a wife beater.
Wasted Emily to Random Girl: I hope you don't think we're trashy cuz we're rolling our own cigarettes!!
drunk sarah: ::giggle!::
Random Girl: i'm eating a slim jim!!!!
alright! that's it! bye!
Friday, September 7, 2007
WFI = Changing Doctors
So my old doctor/pediatrician/my mother's good friend had to go when i turned 22. well, she didn't HAVE to by law or anything, but she had to for me to be sane. because in case you didn't read what i just wrote she was a pediatrician and my mother's good friend. And i was 22. and shouldn't be hanging out in a waiting room with dinosaurs painted on the walls and a Playskool kitchen set in the corner while my mom's dinner and a movie buddy runs her hands all over my body. no thank you! also, you know, since she's my mom's friend, every time she asked me anything with the words "sex" or "drugs" in the question i just automatically had to answer nonsense!!!!
so new doctor time!
and my first appointment was yesterday.
I answered all their silly questions about family history (most of which i think i guessed on...because as it turns out, i don't know anything about my family at all!). Even on my OWN PERSONAL HISTORY. "So, you mention you see a cardiologist, what conditions do you have?" "Well, i don't remember the name of it but it has to do with like, something in my chest not working right and then a family history of something involving elevated levels of stuff i shouldn't have in my body."
specific.
"mmhmmm..." says the doctor lady. "well if you were taking this medication, then i'm assuming you had ::insert name of some problem::." "i think i've heard that before. i have that. yeah. that's the heart thing." (by the way, it's not, i later found out)
anyway, then she says, "and how about pap smears. are you regular on those??"
GET OUT OF TOWN. NO. STOP.
"let's do one right now!"
"no."
i dont think this woman has ever been told no before. she was so confused. her eyes screamed, "no? what? but the speculum is out already! and i just put on this glove!"
"no, we can skip that today. i'm not really interested in having that done."
silence.
"so...is that it?" i asked her.
and no. she took her glove off and asked me if she could "at least" do a breast exam.
AT LEAST.
like, oh man, if i can't et you to take your pants off can i puh leeeez unhook your bra! she actually did ask if she could unhook it for me. like, helping me out style i think. but nonetheless, no. i've been unhooking my bra since i was 12. yeah. TWELVE MOTHER FUCKERS. WHAT'S IT TO YOU.
and then you know, she starts doing her job, making conversation, telling me what she is doing...and then...
"so do you prefer men or women??"
wait what? did you seriously just ask me that while rubbing your fingers in a circular motion around my nipples? wait, come again?
the question was also on the initial questionnaire i had to fill out (with a check mark right next to MEN). which i definitely found a little weird - had they not changed their question sheet since the 1980s? but anyway...
what a weird time to ask me. and before i could even answer her -
"you know, because you don't want the pap smear, is it because you think girls cant transmit disease to other girls? so you don't think you have anything to worry about?" she continued...
"i just don't want to take my pants off today..." actually, i said it more like, "i just don't want to take my pants off today??"
and that was pretty much it. she told me next time we should do the "thing i didn't want to do". i said, "oh definitely."
there really wont be a next time though. not anytime soon at least...
so yeah. worst fucking idea? new doctors. did i mention she is also my mom and dad's doctor? i dont think i can talk to her either...
BTW, she is a good doctor, i just make every situation more and more awkward with my horrible interpretations of the world around me. please don't sue me doc!
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
On Perez Hilton.
gemathy: if he were skinnier
gemathy: went back to the grey hair
gemathy: kept some scruff
gemathy: and wore more muted clothes
gemathy: he'd be more attractive
gemathy: I would like to be his stylist
gemathy: I've been dressing fat people for over 23 years
*i am just now noticing that we have yet to tag anything with "GAY". how the hell is that possible??? this blog is full of GAYness!! i hereby tag this entry as HOMO!
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