As we are
all coming back to reality, our livers are recouping from our weekend of abuse,
our alcohol induced sunburns are turning to tans and we are still humming “Call
Me Maybe” because we heard it 857038457347 times, I would like to take a moment
to recall some of the bad life decisions that I witnessed and their potential
ramifications upon returning home.
While plaid
shorts were in full effect on Commercial Street, I observed that I missed out
on what seems to be the latest and greatest in lesbian fashion, fluorescent. No matter where I turned I was struck by
someone wearing something of the hypercolor (blinding) nature. Yellow, blue, pink, whatever your fluorescent
poison was, it was hard to miss you. I even
saw some fluorescent hair. It’s as if
lesbians don’t already call enough attention to themselves with all of the hair
gel, wrist bands, and sideways hats, we need to take it a step further and wear
colors that belong on highlighters and can be seen 5000 miles away. I also observed one person in a particularly
interesting fashion trend that I have never seen. Bikinis are obviously very common amongst the
homos but this girl went way beyond that.
She was wearing two hands that were tied to a string to cover her
boobs. Yes. You heard me right. Two plastic hands were covering her boobs
(please see pic for an example). I
honestly didn’t have any words for it when I saw it, and I still am at a
loss. Wow. Just wow.
 |
| Can you understand now why I'm at a loss for words? |
There was
also a plentiful amount of stoopid drunk lesbians parading around as though
they were not complete stoopidfuckingidiots.
One of them happened to be at my house one particular night. She thought it would be “cool” to do one
handed pull-ups on the crown moldings of the house I was renting to “show off”
to her lady friends. After what seemed
to be the 1897673945th pull up, she was asked to stop and then
proceeded to insult my wife.
Really? Don’t fuck with me or my
wife or my crown moldings, or you will find your ass in my blog. (Phew, got that off my chest). Moral of the story, ladies? Being drunk doesn’t give you permission to
act like you have never been in public with real people before. Have some freaking respect bitches.
 |
| Ouch. |
I also had a
friend that decided to ignore my advice of not going home with a lady while in
PTOWN (before doing a background check on her).
She learned the hard way that 9 times out of 10, I’m right (this is me
gloating). She went home with a girl
that thought giving 9674096745 “love bites” would be appropriate and/or “hot”. This was along with the scratching, biting,
and god knows what else she endured.
Basically, my friend needed to seek the assistance of a help hotline the
next morning along with a healthy supply of cover up. Clearly that chick she took home was cray (I
tried to warn you). Perhaps she had been
reading too much Fifty Shades of Gray and all of the sadist behavior got into
her head.
 |
| Sadist overload? See above for end result. |
I also
noticed yet another trend that seems to be somewhat generational. It appears that the younger generation of
baby dykes are much more “open” with their willingness to do inappropriate
things with their friends. It’s like the
younger ladies are overly touchy feely with each other and I’m not gonna lie,
it kind of freaks me out. For example, I don't feel as though normal "friend behavior" consists of doing things such as laying in bed together not fully clothed, especially if it's with multiple people. When I was a baby lezzy surely I did some stupid things. I was dared to make out with friends and did
it, but never did I ever end up in an orgy-like situations with people I typically
go to the mall with and get pizza and beers with. Friends are friends for a reason. Friends are not meant to make out and do touchy weird things with unless
you are ready to deal with all the complexities that come along with that. Trust me, you’re not.
I’ll delve
further into the sleeping with friends topic in a separate blog because lezbehonest
ladies, nothing is off limits when it comes to what I say. You have things like pissoring and UHALING to
look forward to in upcoming blogs. So
stay tuned. Until then, I hope the
alcohol withdrawals are subsiding, all of the spiritus pizza is out of your
system, and all of your love bites/wounds are healing properly. And just to keep the PTOWN 2012 anthem stuck
in your head a little longer, here’s a another shout out to Jaime Messina for
her lesbian version of “Call Me Maybe” for your listening ears. Enjoy.
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