Friday, July 23, 2010

About strap ons

valuable lesson I learned about strap ons today:

do not let that sucker slip down or you'll be icing yourself for the rest of the night.

"It's like a hickey on my vagina!!" plunger style. my poor girl.

strap ons were designed by men

Friday, July 16, 2010

losing the big V

s.e.x. lets talk about it. to my high school buddy and college room mate this is a post where i kind of talk about sex. just warning you.

i'm not going to lie i was WASTED the first time i had sex with a woman. and yes it deserves all caps. actually i wasn't completely sober for gay sex until the third time. and we fucked on her ex girlfriend's couch. that was when i knew i would love lesbians for the rest of my life. those bitches are crazy. i heart them.

i swore i was getting laid that night. i had on knee socks with black heels and short shorts. i knew just the girl and if she still was unsure on how to make a move i was going to make it easy for her.

lets count some drinks here. i'm a light weight. i've gained quite a bit of weight due to inactivity/ becoming a baker but im still shy of 115lbs. yeah, i'm that fucking small. so let me think really hard on the drinks list of that night. shot wise one vodka i believe 2 gin. at least 3 gin and tonics (besides bedroom eyes are my biggest weakness). um, i actually think the girl bought me a drink, pretty sure i finished hers. the friend i came with ended up closing my tab for me, which i half heartily signed while making out with said girl. did i mention i was wasted.

we had been circling each other for a while. i remember one drunken night kissing her cheek and whispering in her ear that i was a good fuck. yeah, i'm that girl. this night though i was faded and she leaned down to better hear me and i... oh god this is embarrassing... i gently and playfully bit the top of her ear. who does that? at a bar? drunk gay virgins thats who. apparently though she liked weird and this is how my friend came to close my tab for me. after making out in the middle of a throng of people... and at the bar... she grabbed my hand dragged me from the club, me yelling over my shoulder to the 20+ people i knew, whom most thought i was straight, "GOODBYE!" and if all that gin wasn't enough the girl had whiskey in her car! oh god. at this point she was all "I need to sober you up, I don't want to feel like taking complete advantage of you." which i'm pretty sure i responded by downing the whiskey and rootbeer from a mason jar(!) and replied "do it." i am nothing if not classy.

i would like to make other baby gays feel better in letting them know my first time was awkward, giggly, but sweet. it wasn't. awkward yes in ways, i had no fucking idea what i was doing. but giggly and sweet? no way. we fucking wrecked each other. years of suppression and denial lead up to one profoundly gay moment. oh i was a total lesbo.

it was actually rather sweet, beside you know...the kinky stuff. but when i took off her clothes, with much help from her, i was overwhelmed with the relief of seeing her body and how it was just like mine. i don't know how to describe how profound that moment was for me. sex suddenly didn't make me feel like a part of an equation to obtain an overall goal. i felt like an equal. an equal that had no fucking clue what to do next with a naked girl. but she was sweet in her own way. she knew i was a big v and she whispered comforts and soothed me. and then i went to fucking town. we ripped each other to shreds. i literally almost killed her. learning a valuable lesson: kink + booze = not a good idea.

via jaghetermarilla

oh yes this is something i'll gladly be doing for the rest of my life. i've been reading up, i'm stretching, i'm getting back in shape. this obsession is a life time commitment. fucking women might be the single greatest thing that has ever happened to me.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

you want me to do what with you now...?

the worst part about coming out in an outdoor loving state?

bitches want to take you camping.

no seriously, what is it with lesbians and camping? is there a quota we have to fill? when you come out of the closet are you suppose to get a packet in the mail with a letter of welcome and a standard issued walking stick?

i went to a hippie outdoor bounds school where camping was a common event used to inspire team work, bonding, and a love of nature. of course making tweens sleep outside and then get up at 6am actually re-enforces the exact opposite. you carry that kind of hate with you for the rest of your life.

so when i realized that girls were going to want to go camping i was rather apprehensive. camping means bugs, sleeping on the hard ground and being bitterly cold. i had to discuss this seemingly stereotypical/insane event with my veteran gays.

they were only too happy to provide the real reasons for subjecting yourself to the great outdoors. camping was explained to me in these terms: booze, a dangerously large fire, smores because even the gays like smores, and stumbling back to your tent to find a naked girl in your sleeping bag.

wait, what?

via b$/ram

fucking sign me up! i love camping. now where the fuck is my walking stick?

Friday, July 9, 2010

Community house

People there is a butch wearing plaid and chopping wood right in front of me.

She is chopping wood for a backyard fire pit. I can make smores.

I'm tipsy off vodka tonics blended with black berries and basil.

I sleep on a twin mattress pushed under an always open window in the corner of a living room. I can't even tell you how many people live in this house because honestly I can't keep up.

My parents don't know how to talk to me anymore. We're awkward so now I live here.

With a pure white cat on my lap to keep me company.

I feel like I'm 18 again and figuring this out all over again. I feel directionless and without place.

But this girl is seriously spending two hours building up a fire so I can spend ten minutes making smores.

I love lesbians.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

i admit it, i have a thing for girls in baseball caps

let's talk about one of my all time favourite type of dyke. the butch. not just any butch but the just graduated from adolescent baby butch but still not quite full blown Harley riding butch. you know, not a girl, not yet a woman... but gayer. they're almost bois but way tougher. hanging out with all their guys friends, baggy pants and baseball cap. for this reason i call them the baseball cap butch.

oh yeah that's what i'm talking about. this dyke sets me on fire. these girls know how to melt a lady where she stands. when one looks at you it feels like you're the first girl they have ever seen. at some point they'll shyly saunter over tip their head down, look through their lashes and in the same breath offer to buy you a drink, ask you dance, and tell you you're beautiful.

via liquorinthefront

these bitches are the best things that have ever happened to lesbianism. seriously. they are a prime example in how to treat a lady. i mean they have to be because when they snag a femme they snag the fucking prettiest femme in the goddamn town. and you know that was some work.

via fuckyeahkatemoross

i might have a soft spot for these dykes because i read Stone Butch Blues right when i was coming out. or perhaps because a baseball cap butch was the first girl i really actively hit on and she was truly the most gorgeous thing i had seen. but since then all of my interactions with them have been soft and sweet, even when a heavy amount of liquor was involved.

they break like dry grass though so handle with care. a baby gay might accidentally steal a heart and run with it without even knowing. and then you just see a sad and frustrated baseball cap butch in the corner of the bar not knowing what to do next. and that's never a good thing.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

bikes, girls, girls on bikes... heaven

via malloreigh

oh dear oh my. my heart is set a flutter. i can't help it.

how can anyone resist a girl on a bike? it isn't possible. now i'm not talking sunset, long hair caught in a breeze, floral print dress wearing girl on some vintage beach cruiser.

i'm talking about hipster bike dykes. oh they are lovely. plugs, plaids, pedals. all i need in this world. now i fancy myself a biker, but seriously i'm not. not even close to these purest girls with their fixed gears and hella adorable hoodies.

via katemoross

i'm rather anti fixed gear. i like my knees too much, call me selfish. but i'm all for other girls loving the fixie sensation. usually she'll have plugs in her ears or some other interesting piercing, a hoodie or neon plaid shirt, messenger bag, knit something somewhere on her body, and a vague art degree, this beautiful specimen of femme fatal sends me reeling. they're so passionate about riding and things like crank shafts and deep vs. i have no clue but it gets me all hot when they talk about such things while cleaning grease from their hands. such nimble, sturdy hands.

down side to these pretty little grungy things: most are straight.

via doubleohtwo

i know this because despite the gears on my bike i'm still partly one of them. and as i tried to flirt with them in my art classes and at coffee shops i was shot down each time with "Oh I love that place! My boyfriend works there!" or "Yeah my boyfriend's house is right off 13th." or something to the degree that they liked dick. which you know i followed up with "Yeah my fiance likes that sort of stuff too..." in my head i'm screaming "omg omg omg! just smile, just laugh. think i'm funny!" what a sad sad mixed up little girl i was...

anyway! dykes + bikes = heaven. plus there could be the chance that all they need is a little coaxing out of the closet.