My god, is he ever a hot butch.
Can I get a witness?
Search the OurChart profiles for Washington, DC. Giggle. Wait, feel kind of bad. Giggle again. Vow to remain single for rest of stay in Washington, possibly for rest of life.
Dear GOD.
Uh, I keep having dreams about performing drag. I'm not sure what's wrong with me, but ...
Dear Subconscious:
I can't tie a tie. Not so great for drag, actually. Also, binding? Prolly not gonna help me too much at this juncture. I'm just putting things out there.
Yours,
tentimesfast
saying 'whorl?'
tentimesfast sent me this link long, long ago and it doesn't touch much on lesbians, but still, someone studying how a hair whorl could genetically explain that you are gay equals fun reading. No? Say 'whorl' again.
Femme invisibility! Woo-hoo!
First, have a Lolcat. You deserve one:
Now that I've inserted a random photo of a cat to illustrate femme invisibility, let's hit it: invisibility fucking sucks. I'm sorry that it happens to you, especially in queer spaces. For the record, I assume that every femme girl I see in a queer space is queer. Sucks for the straight girls, but I'd rather make straight girls uncomfortable than queer girls sad.
Equally fucking sucky is the idea that The Queer Community (tm), breaker of stereotypes and bender of genders, is pretty much complicit in all of this. We are just as bad (and probably worse than) as heteros. Except we don't say that someone is "too pretty to be a lesbian", we say that girls don't "look queer". Rock and a hard place, son.
About the "girlfriend" stuff: the only people who still think that "girlfriend" means BFF are so deeply deluded about your sexual identity that you probably don't want them to know anyway.
And "partner" sounds like you're about to play tennis with your woman. Or open a law firm with her. ONE OF THE TWO.
We're fucked for alternatives, frankly. Better to put our collective energy into alternative pronouns ("zim" for the WIN) than to create language that would adequately describe the most important relationships we have. Where are your PRIORITIES, HLE? I mean, GOD!
Conversation while waiting in a long ass line for the bathroom at Phase Fest:
Cougar No. 1: "See, like most of these girls you KNOW are lesbians, because of how, you know, they look, but that one (drunkly gesturing toward me) doesn't look like a lesbian. How would anyone know?"
Cougar No. 2: "I don't know, ask?"
I should add the Lesbian Cougars were together, as in together, together. But it brought up something that has been on my mind for awhile: Invisibility. I dress "straight," ergo, (see low femme) look "straight" so people don't always understand or see me. And when I mention that I have a girlfriend, they think I'm old-fashioned. Ugh.
It's difficult to not have words that fully explain what your significant other is to you. I refuse to use Life Partner. Or Partner. Unless I'm in a cowgirl mood, which, Howdy Partner.
Suggestions?
For my first lesbian-centric music festival, it was ... good. Save for the Miller Lite keg, some crazy straight girl drama (figure that shit OUT before you come to a lesbian bar, please) and a situation with a talkative/territorial "chap" that tentimesfast had to save me from (thanks, again, and sorry for pushing you away in cheap horror when I didn't understand that you were saving me), it was fun.
Just DO not get me started on the Lap Dance instructional. I'll let tentimesfast take that one. ; )
There was gay art (not like, 'that art is so gay' but more like, 'that is some interesting gay art') and I even found a pink lacey (you really wanna know where this is going, don't you?) hanky with fallopian tubes painted on it. I had it hanging out of my left back pocket, so anyone out there know what the heck I was flagging all night?
Mara Levi was good, as was Odd Girl Out. The groupies were better.
Of course you had to look past the MC talking about breast exams (in poem form, no less) and homemade yeast infection cures (garlic, cheesecloth, frozen Greek yogurt, but NOT all at the same time) and some really "unique" performers. But, that's par for the lesbian course.
But waiting until the end of the night when God-des and She hit the stage made it well worth having to listen sleepily to folk all day. Why? Well, because I'm more than a little in love. God-des touched me. TOUCHED ME. And not in just the heart sort of a way.
*sigh*
In the event that some duder out there still thinks that the lyrics of this song are a realistic depiction of what happens when your "girl gotta girlfriend", let me just break it down for ya: they're not. I KNOW! And here I thought that straight porn would never mislead anyone.
Still, the dude that's singing this song is named Ray L, and that's kind of awesome all by itself.
The Ex has announced that she's gonna ship me a skanky Craigslist stripper if I don't find a new girlfriend soon. God, honestly, I can't think of a better reason to stay single!
(I asked for a Russian one, by the way)
low femme -- low-down, dirty, trash-talking femme who can still charm the pants offa yo momma
I still feel so ... undefined and ambiguous about all the femme identity crap, I don't even know where to start! But the Queering Femininity conference starts today in Seattle, and so it's been more in my mind. Yeah, maybe in honor of that! I was talking to a friend of mine about my femme-ishness last night, and she said I was a "low femme". At this point, I'm leaning toward lazy femme. Heh.
Beauty myths, body image, breast surgery oh my!
Diesel femme, high femme, low femme oh my! Its
time for cis and trans women to get together and start
talking in an informal way about who we are and what
it means to be us in 2007. This is an open discussion
for women to talk amongst ourselves, compare notes,
and do whatever else comes natural
low femme --a femme lesbian who is, perhaps, not quite so stereotypically feminine as a high femme, usually preferring jeans and a blouse or t-shirt to skirts for everyday. Also known as a blue jeans femme.
In honor of that, check the new video for "Butch/Femme":
Favorite bits: Gina Bling (marry me?) crawling over a table for motorcycle boi
Least favorite bits: Cindy Wonderful's white jeans (dude, really?), the ironic mullet (have we really come so far?)
I'm obsessed with the idea that there's a hip hop chick who loves to be called "Big Daddy" by ... escorts. Holla!
God, I HOPE THIS IS TRUE.
What if it's a really stylish one? I'm just saying, if Tegan and Sara have mullets, then it must be okay for the rest of us.
1.) You have no idea how fast. Brace yourself!
2.) With a name like Gray, you get one of two things: "Hi, my name is Gray, and I went to Yale" OR "Hi, my name's Gray and lap dances are 40 bucks, no touching"
3.) I'm pretty sure such things only exist in RoCos about LARGE, HIP, IMPORTANT AMERICAN CITIES WHERE STUFF HAPPENS, usually NYC. Also, in "Friends" (I think, but you're the expert!) and "Seinfeld".
4.) I'm actually clueless about how to be a 'mo. All the stuff I've been telling you so far about 'mos? Totally made up. And partially based on a combination of Judy Blume books and Dan Savage columns. What you need is a kind Scottish cab driver with a crush on you and an affinity for baked goods. Get crackin'!
1. What?! Boning a hot chick will help me run faster? I don't even need to run, at all, actually, but faster? Count me in!
2. I totally agree with the names of the characters. Part of me thinks that the director got super attached to having gray in the title and didn't realize she could have named Heather Graham's character any thing she wanted, other than Gray. Or maybe it's just me.
3. I've been looking for something that's rent-controlled all my life. Not happening.
4. So, heteros have all the answers when it comes to coming out and being on Team Mo? Sheesh. I guess I've been asking you WAY too many questions, tentimesfast. I'll be sure to keep our convos to work-related topics, SON!
I wish to punch the one in the bandana in the face. Bandanas around the neck? Not cool, dude. Don't be that guy.
Ohmygod, I can't wait for the HLE to get to witness me having a really raging drunk moment. During that band's show. About a neck bandana. On Saturday. At Phasefest.
Should I front you the money beforehand, or can I get you back afterwards?
Gray Matters sucks, but you'll learn at least four things from it:
1.) Pressing, intensely personal questions about love and sexual identity can be solved by boning a hot chick. Also, boning that hot chick will make you run faster.
2.) Naming one kid "Gray" and the other "Sam" is probably kind of cruel.
3.) Questions about how people who work 10 hours a week between the two of them can afford a 7 squillion square foot, multi-million dollar apartment with a view MUST be addressed by having one of the characters say "rent control" at the right time.
4.) The best advice that 'mos can get about being 'mos can and will come from heterosexuals. OHDEARGOD, THEY ARE SO WISE TO OUR WAYS!
Lugs, on the other hand, are a rare breed found mostly in small women's colleges in the Northeast. These girls are "Lesbians Until Graduation," who take advantage of the spirit of experimentation and self-discovery that four years of higher education affords.
The Final Battle!
Femmes:
- Think about their gender identity, probably every single day.
- Like to hit it with people with XX chromosomes (possibly) but are probably faced with some question of the gender identity of those XX chromosome'd folks, whether it's femme, butch, trans or whatevs.
- Are forced to think about what it actually means when they're interested in anyone of any gender identity
- Have to wonder how they're representing their gender identity OR if anyone will question their gender identity when they choose heels v. sneakers v. jeans v. skirts
- Have a fucking raw end of the deal when it comes to queer visibility
- Are the toughest, rawkingest motherfuckers I've ever met when it comes to standing up for their community, their femmes, their butches, their bois, or their people. You wanna tough kid to come to your defense? I'd take a femme any ol' day, son.
Straight girls:
- I got nothin'. As a femme friend of mine once said, "Straight girls wouldn't even know what to do with you." Well said, femme friend. Well said!
Another *great* difference between femmes and straighties? Femmes can make out with their girlfriends in public restrooms. It may scare some of the straight girls (and it probably will) but you're not going to care when you're that into kissing.
Straighties usually don't enter a dude bathroom unless they MUST, so there's that. I'll get more to you, LATE.
I feel you on the boi description. It was something I glazed over when I first read "Same Sex in the City." It's in the first chapter, "Lesbian, your label," and there are a whopping two more vocab under Gaynglish. Here they are:
"Lugs, on the other hand, are a rare breed found mostly in small women's colleges in the Northeast. These girls are "Lesbians Until Graduation," who take advantage of the spirit of experimentation and self-discovery that four years of higher education affords.
Dinks are a breed of homosexuals who are "Dual Income, No Kids." Dinks can be men or women and are usually rather wealthy. With no kids to support, they have money to spend on things like real estate and, say, Marc Jacobs."
WOW. So, this is pissing me off more than I thought it would. I know that earlier I've said that you really need to take the book for what it is: A book written by two femme, New York privileged, white lesbians, and a group of their friends. But, when they write stuff like that, it gives off this total air of spoiled naiveness. So, on the behalf of femmes who spout their mouths off without totally understanding the sum of their parts, I'm sorry, tentimesfast.
"A boi is a girl who looks like a boy. She may even look so much like a boy, you'd mistake this boi for an actual boy ... and that is exactly her intention."
I would like to, if I may, liken Lesbian Drama to a mine fire. You think that you've put that shit out, but actually, it's still hanging out and raging underneath the town. Some time later, you figure out that it's still burning, but only after everyone in the town has developed OCULAR CANCER or some weird, rare business that nobody ever gets. And then everyone freaks out about putting it out, but then it's too late, and the town collapses and then you never hear about it again unless it's some History Channel special some 30 years later about rural ghost towns.
Lesbian Drama: it really never ends.
FourFour posted a funny (and not at all illegal!) video highlight reel of Lindsay Lohan in I Know Who Killed Me. LiLo, you are a beautiful, craptacular acting mess! God, what I wouldn't give ...
So, I'm going to *attempt* to answer your query regarding the differences between straight girls and queer femmes. Before I do, I must, must, must first write that I'm not the best source for this (are you absolutely sure that I can't play the new card anymore?) and I'm sure that I'll add to this post later. But, without further adieu ...
Ready?
I don't think there's that much of a difference, save from the preference of bed buddies. Of course, there are always exceptions to the rules, but it's not like straight girls and butches, where it's pretty evident right away the differences. And since I'm on the subject a bit, I'll tie this in to what I think about "Same Sex in the City," a book that came out (tee hee) last year and got a strange review on afterellen that you referenced earlier.
The book is about a few low femmes and a shit ton of high femmes who live in New York City and the personal essays that explain who they are and how they "arrived" at their respective gaydom. The one gripe that afterellen had was that the book didn't include more incluserary (I made that up) terms, mentioning in particular the short vocab list for Gaynglish. I didn't remember reading anything about it, so I had to do some digging, but I found it. Here it is:
"A boi is a girl who looks like a boy. She may even look so much like a boy, you'd mistake this boi for an actual boy ... and that is exactly her intention."
So. Well, there it is. I'd love to hear what you think after I lend you the book. Which I will. Some day. When I remember.
Oh, goodness, do I love me some Pennsylvania. In MODERATION.
When I first moved here, I watched the Steelers/Colts playoff game at the Pour House and I nearly cried when the Steelers won (confidential to HLE: football on Thanksgiving just might be a must). I missed PennMac and Primanti's and the Dirty O. I missed cheap shows and 50 cent Iron City ("Ahrn City") and renting a 2 BR for 600 bucks. I missed Pittsburghese and my brothers and a million other things.
Here's what I DIDN'T miss:
1.) Dudes posted up at lesbian bars
2.) Mullets
3.) Girls who are so desperate for decent looking butches that they will practically maul you at the door (er, not so bad, actually)
4.) Tons and tons of hot indie girls who are really STRAIGHT
5.) Hipsters at the bar. Dude, you live in PITTSBURGH
6.) The lesbo bar that is worse than DC's lesbo bar
7.) Butches who hit on me
8.) Straight men who hit on me
9.) Bowl Cuts
10.) Lesbian Fucking Cougars
Done? I am DONZO.
Pittsburgh: the second I get to you, I remember why I left. No! Attractive! Queers! Anywhere!
Tonight I'll be playing pool at the the alleged lesbian bar with my VERY gracious straight friends. I hope to bring back stories of attempted Lesbian Cougarings (<-- do we need a glossary?) and word of Mullet Sightings. If you don't hear from me by Wednesday, assume that some Lesbian Cougar has kidnapped me so that she has someone to clean her gutters, ifyouknowwhatI'msaying.
There are a number of reasons why I generally don't tell anyone that I play World of Warcraft until they've earned some kind of, like, MAFIA TYPE trust with me. Would you like to see why? This is why.
Costumes. Wow, dude. Wow.
Don't you think there should be some sort of Old Butch/New Butch chart? Like, OB would have a mullet, or the "bowl cut." NB would have a faux hawk. OB would drive a Subaru Outback (sorrysorrysorry). NB would drive a Escalade? Or at least something with more onions than a wagon. I don't know. I'm going to play the new card on this one. Your turn?
That's "for the handsome ones" for all you non-Spanglish speakin' folks. And this post is in regards to TenTimesFast's posting about the Handsome Butch. Which, first, I'm jealous you saw one, in the wild (and by wild, I mean pumping gas into an Escalade). And second, if there wasn't hot femme eye candy, I'd be sorely disappointed. But, moving on.
It made me think of something to ask of you, something I'd love for you to post. I know, I know, you post all the time and I don't. But I'll help.
Don't you think there should be some sort of Old Butch/New Butch chart? Like, OB would have a mullet, or the "bowl cut." NB would have a faux hawk. OB would drive a Subaru Outback (sorrysorrysorry). NB would drive a Escalade? Or at least something with more onions than a wagon. I don't know. I'm going to play the new card on this one. Your turn?
Jezebel has a fantastic opinion dealie up right now about the "Save The Date" bullshit that is so popular among the hetero folks.
Read it and thank Jeebus that you're not subject to this shit. I mean, maybe you are. I'm not. My friends tend to be a.) The Gay or b.) The Hetero, but not so into the wedding thing. My housemate, however, has 9 billion friends who are The Hetero and are also really into sending "Save the Date" shit. Up until a few weeks ago, we had no less than half a dozen "Save the Date" items around the house. We still have one "Save the Date" magnet on our fridge with a picture of those happy fuckers on the magnet.
"Save the Date!". Go fuck yourself!
I went for gas before work today and pulled up next to the biggest, pimpest Escalade that I have ever seen outside of, like, a music video. Standing outside of the Escalade was the biggest, pimpest butch I have ever seen outside of, like, every femme's wet dream: 40ish, silver/gray fauxhawk, black t-shirt, aviators.
Escalade Butch gave me the Acknowledgment Nod when I walked in to buy smokes, which: RAD. When I walked out, Escalade Butch was still pumping gas (I mean, Escalade, right?), but she had this 20ish indie rock femme all feeling up on her while pumping gas. When I pulled away, she gave me the biggest grin I've ever seen in my life, the "GodI'msofuckinglucky" grin.
Ohmygod, I hope that I am Anderson Cooper gray when I'm in my 40s. And that I have an Escalade.
AfterEllen has posted yet another profile of a queer band that makes my soul weep for the state of GLBT music.
I'm gonna quietly visit Crunks Not Dead right now just to remind myself that queer hip-hop/electro is kicking the corpse of riot grrrl in a REALLY GOOD WAY.
Charming Butch called me tonight to give me the DL on a convo she'd had with a chick in NYC last night. It was RAD!
CB and I were undergrads together at a giant public uni that was conveniently located right next to a fancy women's college. The fancy women's college girls thought we were PROLES. We thought they were SNOBS. Quelle surprise!
So, CB had been at a party that was entirely populated by recent grads of the fancy women's college. At one point in the night, everyone in the room went around saying what year they'd graduated. When it got to CB, she said, "Oh, I graduated in '99, but from [insert name of our alma mater]." In truly classy fancy women's college graduate fashion, one of the chicks at the party said this: "Oh! Well ... I'm sure you had fun!"
What? I mean, what?! I heart condescension! When I get my transcripts, they're actually written in crayon, and some of the letters are backwards ... but, hey, at least I had fun! Gosh, I nearly learned to read at a 10th grade level after all o' that there book learnin' and class takin' and speechifyin' and whatnot. Who was a good public uni student, hmm? You were! Yes, you were! Now, sit! SIT!
Grr.
So, I've got the strong-willed part down. And the French Canadian part. Now I just need to figure out the accent? There's an accent now? Jeesh.
