Getting In Touch With My Inner-Lesbian. - The Pub

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Pages: 1

Heinous_Anus
S.D.M.F.

Registered: 08/03/05
Posts: 310
Last seen: 18 years, 7 months

Getting In Touch With My Inner-Lesbian.

1
#4527946 - 08/12/05 08:09 PM (18 years, 8 months ago)

I work with two lesbians. I'm sure there are more. There have to be more around here somewhere. Lesbians travel in packs and hunt under the full moon for the blood of men. And for bargains on plaid shirts. I'm not really afraid of lesbians. I'm just afraid of their powers of box taming. Once the wild box is tamed, we'll have to start breeding them in captivity. And I like my boxes wild, thank you very much.

The problem with working in the same environment as lesbians isn't just the smell of their piney after-shave and unrelentless male bashing. I don't always think before I speak and since 'gay', 'queer', 'homo', 'lesbionic' and 'Dairy Queen' have moved into a regular rotation in my daily lexicon, I've gotten into quite a bit of trouble.

Those words used to be a safe harbor for me. I can't go around cursing racial slurs because people of other races are usually bigger than I am and can run faster due to years of selective breeding. So when making comments about a things I hate, I simply call it gay. Given the amount of homophobia in my redneck town, there was really no questioning my vocabulary.

Then came the lesbians.

Rug-munching party crashers ruined my cursing parade by jabbing a rainbow flag into my heart.

'Gay is not a synonym for bad' they said. 'Just because my football is yellow with a smiley-face on it, doesn't make it gay' they said. 'If you make fun of the LPGA one more time, I'll snap off your fingers and shove them up your ass,' they said.

They suggested I needed to get in touch with my inner-lesbian.

I don't think I have an inner-lesbian. Between my inner-child and my inner-fat guy and my inner-Jesus, my insides are jam-packed with chips and Dr. Pepper. And a tiny toy cow I ate when I was six. I was trying to steal it from this kid I hated. So I ate it. That fucker never saw it coming.

The lesbians continued to threaten my life. Not really my life - just the life of my balls or the life of my 'queer-bashing' fingers. I was on a forced journey to find my inner-lesbian.

The lesbians invited me to a little dinner they were having with their lesbian friends on the patio of some lesbian restaurant. Might have been Lebanese, but I'm really not sure.

They arrived in one big group. I told you they traveled in packs. They all wore khaki vests. It was like I was on a lesbian jungle safari. 'Here's your rifle. Shoot anything that doesn't have a vagina.'

I couldn't remember anyone's name so I gave each a nickname I made up in my head. One looked a lot like Todd Bertuzzi. I named her Bert. She could probably snap my spine, so I kept the nickname firmly in my head. I might have carved it into the table with my knife and drew a huge arrow pointing in her direction, but who really remembers what they carve on tables nowadays?

Bert: So, what do you do in your spare time?

Me: I make hats out of sticks and alphabetize my CDs. And I play in traffic. I'm a dance instructor to cats and I sleep upside down to prevent a blood clot in my legs that might cause a heart attack.

Bert: Hats, eh?

Me: I usually just stick twigs in my hair and roll around in the grass. Sometimes I get poked in the eyes. My eyes got infected once. They were red and swollen and kept leaking green shit. I saved a Kleenex if you want to see.

Bert: I'm not going to talk to you anymore.

Then she turned away and ate a gay salad. Hmm. So lesbians don't like stories about hats. Do lesbians hate hats? I like hats. They make my head look big so I don't wear them all that often. Sometimes I don't feel like showering so I just wear a hat.

I wonder why I don't have any friends.

I nicknamed another lesbian Kimmy. I hate the name Kimmy. The chick was wearing a bandana with skulls on it and forty earrings in each ear. I think her nipples were pierced. Every time a cool breeze blew, little ring shapes would appear under her shirt. Unless she had metal nipples, I'm pretty sure those were rings. I wished I had a magnet to see if I could get the rings to stand straight out. If a chick with pierced nipples walks by a very powerful magnet, would she get stuck to it? Would they have to cut off her nipples to free her?

Me: How do I build a deck?

Kimmy: Why are you asking me?

Me: I thought all lesbians had a thing for the Home Depot. I really need to know how to build a deck. Should I buy lumber or should I make it out of old newspaper?

Kimmy: You can't make lumber. It comes from trees.

Me: Paper comes from trees. And making pulp is a physical change, not a chemical change. I should be able to get the paper back into lumber form. Do lesbians have a secret machine that changes paper back into lumber?

Kimmy: Do you even have a house for the deck?

Me: No, but you never know when some guy is going to come up to you and say 'Hey, I need you to build a deck for me or I'll stab you in the face with this spatula.' If I can't get any lumber, should I just glue a bunch of Popsicle sticks together until the deck is sturdy enough to support 50 people and a 200 pound gas barbecue?

Kimmy: I work at a bookstore. I don't know a thing about making decks. Shut the fuck up.

Me: But you are part of the paper conglomerate. Do you work the used bookstore? Could I get some cheap porn?

Kimmy: Eat shit.

So lesbians are the reason why I can't buy cheap lumber. My family has a long history of stealing trees for cheap lumber. Leslie Nielson's father arrested my grandfather for stealing trees. I'm going to get back at the Nielsons by stealing a tree from Leslie's front yard. Then I'll make a candleholder of it and burn it on his lawn. The only thing I learnt how to build in shop class was a candleholder. It was so shitty the teacher made me transfer to home ec. I made a quilt and a toy cat. The cat could turn its head completely around. I was so badass at sewing. Not at cooking, though. I burnt a cupboard down when I tried to boil water.

The only other lesbian I didn't know, besides my two coworkers, had hair shorter than mine. She looked mean. I nicknamed her Horse Face. I think she kept glancing at my crotch to see if all the lesbian-eating action was turning me on.

Me: Where do you get your haircut?

Horse Face: A garage.

Me: Where do you work?

Horse Face: A garage.

Me: Do you live in a garage too?

Horse Face: Don't be a prick, you male pig. Quit objectifying women and trying to take away my rights to get married.

Me: I'm fine with the gays getting married. The only law I'm scared of is the one that takes away my right to smear butter all over my body and slide down the roof of city hall. That is a fucked up law. I paid for that butter fair and square.

Horse Face: Ever have your ass kicked by a dyke?

Me: Ever have the urge to have a cock inside you?

Horse Face: Ever have your face ripped off and shoved up your ass?

Me: Ever buy a cucumber and not think about a cock? Ever eat a banana and think 'Gee, I wish this was a cock.' When you're playing for your lesbian softball team, do you ever think about the baseball bat and how it's a phallic object?

Horse Face: It sounds like you have an obsession with cocks.

Me: I love roosters. I had a pet rooster. My dad chopped his head off when I was five. I stuck my thumb in his neck hole and had a finger puppet.

Horse Face: I'm going to own your balls. Get a jar and get ready to feel the pain.

Me: Not my balls!

That's when I remembered I left the stove on and had to leave. My apartment was locked so I had to break in through a window. But I think my little dinner group and I had a learning experience. I learnt that gay chicks have really badass tattoos but really hate hats and decks. And roosters. I think a rooster molested Horse Face. Why else would she hate them so much?

I just think they were intimidated by my manliness. Or the fact that they had more facial hair than I did.

And the fact that I wasn't wearing pants.

My inner lesbian still needs a little work, but I think I'm going places with my new positive attitude towards having a dyke inside me.

I just had the urge to buy season's tickets to attend a WNBA team.

How queer.

--------------------

I didn't go to college. I went to Ozzy Osbourne University. - Zakk Wylde

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