Thursday, December 29, 2005
ENVIRONMENTALIST, CUNNILINGUIST
It’s no secret that real estate agent is a popular career choice for dykes. Heck, Dot Lazarius even dabbled in the housing market herself when she was trying to find her calling (and people, I have some stories...). Real estate agents of a certain “lifestyle choice” tend to sell a lot of houses in the Lazarius stomping ground of South City/Shaw. I like to sometimes walk around and look at the real estate agent’s faces on the for sale signs, and see which ones I might like to sit on. It was my desire to do just that that convinced me to invite a bunch of my old real estate colleagues and their friends over to my place for a little afternoon soiree.
Dot Lazarius’s apartment is decorated in what I like to call 21st Century Butch Dyke. It’s unpretentious, people. The decoration reflects what I like--sports, beer, left-wing politics, comedy, and--of course--women. It is in this spirit that I have a certain magnet on my fridge, which was given to me by my awesome drinking buddy, Clay. The magnet reads thusly: “Save a tree! Eat a beaver!” I love this magnet. To me, it captures the zeitgeist of Dot Lazarius’s butch dykeness. I’m crude, I’m real, I’m an environmentalist and, above all, I love women.
Now among the dykes at my party was a certain femme called Cheryl. If it were up to Dot Lazarius, the party would have been exclusively butch dykes, but most things in life are not up to Dot Lazarius. Cheryl is easily offended. Seriously, people, the dyke is oversensitive. Let me give you an example. Once my ex Jill and I were double dating with Cheryl and her flavor of the month (who she of course was living with). We were walking down Delmar. I was holding hands with Jill and Cheryl was holding hands with her gal. Some meathead yells out “lesbians!” from his t-top. Dot’s reaction: to think “that dude sure calls ‘em like he sees ‘em!” and lean over to get some sugar from Jill. Cheryl’s reaction: melt down crying in the middle of the street and then require 5 hours of aromatherapy and hand holding.
I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised, people, when I heard Cheryl scream in anguish as she walked past the fridge. “What the hell is that, Dot?” She asked, her shaking hand pointing at my magnet.
“Well, Cheryl,” I replied, “it’s a magnet that expresses humorously my personal philosophy of environmentalism and free oral sex among women.”
“Dot, that is offensive!”
Now to Cheryl, nothing could be worse than something being “offensive.” While to Dot, when I hear the word “offense” I think about how this season the STL Rams defense seems to be outshining their offense--am I right people? (Go Rams!) Unfortunately, most dykes do not agree with Dot. So when Cheryl drops the “o-bomb” the whole room goes quiet and every dyke in the place comes over to see what the ruckus is. It’s this time that several of my friends chose to tell me that they have long found my magnet offensive. I’m shocked, and I say so.
“Show of hands, people.” I say, “Who here is an environmentalist?” Everyone raises their hand. “Who here likes to go down on the ladies?” Again, everyone raises their hand. “So the problem with a magnet celebrating those to things is exactly what, people?”
My friend Liz says it objectifies women by referring to them as beavers. I say it doesn’t refer to women and beavers, it refers to beavers as beavers. Dot Lazarius loves women and she loves women’s beavers! Problem? Not to Dot!
But then my friend Chris drops this bomb: El, a hot as hell butch dyke Dot was after before El moved to Wyoming, spurned Dot, not because of Dot’s support for Lyndon Laruche in the primaries (as El told me), but because she found the magnet “gross” and couldn’t think about Dot the same way after she saw it. Now, the magnet offending Cheryl, I don’t care about. The woman was probably offended by the color of my fridge. But the thought that the magnet made it so Dot could not do the very thing the magnet advocated? That was just too much.
After the party broke up and Dot struck out with all the possible ladies there that evening, Dot sat in her laz-y-boy and reflected on the days events. I searched my sole, people. Was the magnet offensive? Was it wrong to have up? Maybe it was “in bad taste”, but it was not offensive--it doesn’t stereotype women and it was not displayed with malice. In the end I decided that the magnet perfectly reflects who Dot Lazarius is. If a dyke chooses not to get with me because of the magnet, that’s her loss because I could bring that dyke to a higher plane, people.
So the magnet has become sort of a litmus test for Dot. And when I finally find that special butch dyke who comes over, sees the magnet, and lets out a big laugh, I’ll know I found the one. Hell, I may even go all femme and move in with her!
Am I right, people?
It’s no secret that real estate agent is a popular career choice for dykes. Heck, Dot Lazarius even dabbled in the housing market herself when she was trying to find her calling (and people, I have some stories...). Real estate agents of a certain “lifestyle choice” tend to sell a lot of houses in the Lazarius stomping ground of South City/Shaw. I like to sometimes walk around and look at the real estate agent’s faces on the for sale signs, and see which ones I might like to sit on. It was my desire to do just that that convinced me to invite a bunch of my old real estate colleagues and their friends over to my place for a little afternoon soiree.
Dot Lazarius’s apartment is decorated in what I like to call 21st Century Butch Dyke. It’s unpretentious, people. The decoration reflects what I like--sports, beer, left-wing politics, comedy, and--of course--women. It is in this spirit that I have a certain magnet on my fridge, which was given to me by my awesome drinking buddy, Clay. The magnet reads thusly: “Save a tree! Eat a beaver!” I love this magnet. To me, it captures the zeitgeist of Dot Lazarius’s butch dykeness. I’m crude, I’m real, I’m an environmentalist and, above all, I love women.
Now among the dykes at my party was a certain femme called Cheryl. If it were up to Dot Lazarius, the party would have been exclusively butch dykes, but most things in life are not up to Dot Lazarius. Cheryl is easily offended. Seriously, people, the dyke is oversensitive. Let me give you an example. Once my ex Jill and I were double dating with Cheryl and her flavor of the month (who she of course was living with). We were walking down Delmar. I was holding hands with Jill and Cheryl was holding hands with her gal. Some meathead yells out “lesbians!” from his t-top. Dot’s reaction: to think “that dude sure calls ‘em like he sees ‘em!” and lean over to get some sugar from Jill. Cheryl’s reaction: melt down crying in the middle of the street and then require 5 hours of aromatherapy and hand holding.
I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised, people, when I heard Cheryl scream in anguish as she walked past the fridge. “What the hell is that, Dot?” She asked, her shaking hand pointing at my magnet.
“Well, Cheryl,” I replied, “it’s a magnet that expresses humorously my personal philosophy of environmentalism and free oral sex among women.”
“Dot, that is offensive!”
Now to Cheryl, nothing could be worse than something being “offensive.” While to Dot, when I hear the word “offense” I think about how this season the STL Rams defense seems to be outshining their offense--am I right people? (Go Rams!) Unfortunately, most dykes do not agree with Dot. So when Cheryl drops the “o-bomb” the whole room goes quiet and every dyke in the place comes over to see what the ruckus is. It’s this time that several of my friends chose to tell me that they have long found my magnet offensive. I’m shocked, and I say so.
“Show of hands, people.” I say, “Who here is an environmentalist?” Everyone raises their hand. “Who here likes to go down on the ladies?” Again, everyone raises their hand. “So the problem with a magnet celebrating those to things is exactly what, people?”
My friend Liz says it objectifies women by referring to them as beavers. I say it doesn’t refer to women and beavers, it refers to beavers as beavers. Dot Lazarius loves women and she loves women’s beavers! Problem? Not to Dot!
But then my friend Chris drops this bomb: El, a hot as hell butch dyke Dot was after before El moved to Wyoming, spurned Dot, not because of Dot’s support for Lyndon Laruche in the primaries (as El told me), but because she found the magnet “gross” and couldn’t think about Dot the same way after she saw it. Now, the magnet offending Cheryl, I don’t care about. The woman was probably offended by the color of my fridge. But the thought that the magnet made it so Dot could not do the very thing the magnet advocated? That was just too much.
After the party broke up and Dot struck out with all the possible ladies there that evening, Dot sat in her laz-y-boy and reflected on the days events. I searched my sole, people. Was the magnet offensive? Was it wrong to have up? Maybe it was “in bad taste”, but it was not offensive--it doesn’t stereotype women and it was not displayed with malice. In the end I decided that the magnet perfectly reflects who Dot Lazarius is. If a dyke chooses not to get with me because of the magnet, that’s her loss because I could bring that dyke to a higher plane, people.
So the magnet has become sort of a litmus test for Dot. And when I finally find that special butch dyke who comes over, sees the magnet, and lets out a big laugh, I’ll know I found the one. Hell, I may even go all femme and move in with her!
Am I right, people?
Thursday, December 22, 2005
DUDE LOOKS LIKE A BUTCH DYKE
Dot here. I’m blogging from the Lazarius compound down in the Ozarks. Not a whole lot to do down here. I’ve been down here for a couple weeks of R and R.
Dot Lazarius is a simple dyke so my packing list for the trip was pretty straight forward (or should I say “queerforward” people?):
Human Rights Campaign long sleeved t-shirt
Camo hunting jacket
Extra pair of Wranglers (DL keeps her denim old school, people)
My .22
Strap on
Squirrel bait
Beaver bait - hey, that’s DL herself. Am I right people?
DL was shooting squirrel yesterday with her dad and uncles and also hoping to trap a beaver. But both bushy-tailed creatures proved too wily. The squirrel shoot is a tradition with the Lazarius men and the Lazarius Butch Dykes--namely, me! I love shooting squirrel and am quite the markswoman, if I do say so myself. It doesn’t help the squirrel that I once heard one of their kind make a homophobic comment. Just kidding, people, squirrel’s can’t talk. But seriously, people, I love killing squirrels.
So we’re out in the woods--just the Lazarius clan. There isn’t a Butch Dyke in sight--except, of course, for me. Dad Lazarius is talking about how he can’t wait to eat some squirrel. Dot Lazarius is more in the mood for a fur burger. Alas, both Lazariai would go hungry that night. But for a moment there, Dot thought she had a shot.
An interjection, people. It’s tough to be a Butch Dyke who likes Butch Dykes. I could write an encyclopedia on the subject, but suffice it to say it’s a little awkward when both of you come into the bedroom wearing a strap on! Am I right, people?
Dot Lazarius has historically had good luck getting laid in the ‘Zarks. The hunting, natural beauty, and clueless locals tend to attract Butch Dykes. Despite the fact that the place is home to the famous bible outlet store! And hey, Dot Lazarius even once got some there (that’s for another entry, people). But tonight just wasn’t Dot’s night. I went to a couple bars, cruised around in my Toyota Tacoma showing off my bumper stickers: the Human Rights Campaign equal sign, STL-Rams-shaped rainbow flag, and cat-shaped rainbow flag (just incase there was any question as to whether DL likes pussy!)
Just as I was ready to give up and head home to the family cabin and drown my sorrows in Bud Lite and televised bowling, I looked in front of me. There, at the red light, idled a red Dodge Ram. I looked through the back window and saw the most glorious dyke chop I had ever seen, framed by an American flag decal, a gravid gun rack, and--thank the Armenian Orthodox God-- a rainbow flag decal. Score, I thought, this is Dot Lazarius’s lucky day!
I pulled along side my conquest to get a better look. I was not disappointed. She was as butch as they come. DL’s only worry: would she be into femmes, or would she be willing to take a walk on the butch-on-butch side with DL! I winked and gave her a little salute. And the fish were biting people. She smiled and rolled down her window.
“Looking for some action tonight?” She yelled. Wow. This Butch Dyke cut to the chase! Me likey!
“Lemme ask you this,” I responded, “when am I not looking for action?”
She liked that response and told me to follow her to a little motel up the street where she was staying. I’ll tell you people, Dot Lazarius was pretty happy that she was about to get laid, but she had a big (well, actually not all that big) surprise in store.
I really don’t know how to put this people, but I’ll just tell you this. As awkward as it is coming in to the bedroom when you’re both packing a strap on, it’s far more awkward when you’re both packing, but one of you is not wearing a strap on. Get it, people?
Anyway, the dude was cool and we had a good laugh at the misunderstanding. Turns out the guy just likes rainbows! Actually, we discovered we had a lot in common--namely our love of STL sports and STL beer. Instead of banging a gong as planned, we spent the night beering it up and watching ESPN, which is just as good. Hey, wait a minute, no it’s not people!
Dot here. I’m blogging from the Lazarius compound down in the Ozarks. Not a whole lot to do down here. I’ve been down here for a couple weeks of R and R.
Dot Lazarius is a simple dyke so my packing list for the trip was pretty straight forward (or should I say “queerforward” people?):
Human Rights Campaign long sleeved t-shirt
Camo hunting jacket
Extra pair of Wranglers (DL keeps her denim old school, people)
My .22
Strap on
Squirrel bait
Beaver bait - hey, that’s DL herself. Am I right people?
DL was shooting squirrel yesterday with her dad and uncles and also hoping to trap a beaver. But both bushy-tailed creatures proved too wily. The squirrel shoot is a tradition with the Lazarius men and the Lazarius Butch Dykes--namely, me! I love shooting squirrel and am quite the markswoman, if I do say so myself. It doesn’t help the squirrel that I once heard one of their kind make a homophobic comment. Just kidding, people, squirrel’s can’t talk. But seriously, people, I love killing squirrels.
So we’re out in the woods--just the Lazarius clan. There isn’t a Butch Dyke in sight--except, of course, for me. Dad Lazarius is talking about how he can’t wait to eat some squirrel. Dot Lazarius is more in the mood for a fur burger. Alas, both Lazariai would go hungry that night. But for a moment there, Dot thought she had a shot.
An interjection, people. It’s tough to be a Butch Dyke who likes Butch Dykes. I could write an encyclopedia on the subject, but suffice it to say it’s a little awkward when both of you come into the bedroom wearing a strap on! Am I right, people?
Dot Lazarius has historically had good luck getting laid in the ‘Zarks. The hunting, natural beauty, and clueless locals tend to attract Butch Dykes. Despite the fact that the place is home to the famous bible outlet store! And hey, Dot Lazarius even once got some there (that’s for another entry, people). But tonight just wasn’t Dot’s night. I went to a couple bars, cruised around in my Toyota Tacoma showing off my bumper stickers: the Human Rights Campaign equal sign, STL-Rams-shaped rainbow flag, and cat-shaped rainbow flag (just incase there was any question as to whether DL likes pussy!)
Just as I was ready to give up and head home to the family cabin and drown my sorrows in Bud Lite and televised bowling, I looked in front of me. There, at the red light, idled a red Dodge Ram. I looked through the back window and saw the most glorious dyke chop I had ever seen, framed by an American flag decal, a gravid gun rack, and--thank the Armenian Orthodox God-- a rainbow flag decal. Score, I thought, this is Dot Lazarius’s lucky day!
I pulled along side my conquest to get a better look. I was not disappointed. She was as butch as they come. DL’s only worry: would she be into femmes, or would she be willing to take a walk on the butch-on-butch side with DL! I winked and gave her a little salute. And the fish were biting people. She smiled and rolled down her window.
“Looking for some action tonight?” She yelled. Wow. This Butch Dyke cut to the chase! Me likey!
“Lemme ask you this,” I responded, “when am I not looking for action?”
She liked that response and told me to follow her to a little motel up the street where she was staying. I’ll tell you people, Dot Lazarius was pretty happy that she was about to get laid, but she had a big (well, actually not all that big) surprise in store.
I really don’t know how to put this people, but I’ll just tell you this. As awkward as it is coming in to the bedroom when you’re both packing a strap on, it’s far more awkward when you’re both packing, but one of you is not wearing a strap on. Get it, people?
Anyway, the dude was cool and we had a good laugh at the misunderstanding. Turns out the guy just likes rainbows! Actually, we discovered we had a lot in common--namely our love of STL sports and STL beer. Instead of banging a gong as planned, we spent the night beering it up and watching ESPN, which is just as good. Hey, wait a minute, no it’s not people!
