With the Christmas season coming to an end, I thought I would share an anecdote; however, I couldn't pick between just one, so here are my two favorites.Christmas Anecdote #1:
While attending a holiday party that consisted of, mostly, art school lesbians, I found myself in the middle of a thoroughly in-depth and very serious science fiction conversation. (It was one of those situations where, towards the end of the night, I found myself with a small group of people in a room separate from the majority, and I couldn't just walk away and join another conversation because I was sitting on the opposite side of the room from the door and I'd have to walk through the middle of this serious conversation to reach the exit and I didn't want to be rude.) I'm not a consistent nor studious scifi/fantasy reader, but I can hold my own in conversations on the topic; that is, unless the topic is space. I don't know what it is about space, but I can't get into it...like Star Trek or Star Wars or BATTLESTAR GALACTICA.
This science fiction conversation revolved around the heated debate of whether or not a prequel, apparently a spin-off show that starts fifty years before Battlestar and will answer how the cyclons were made(I think that's right, I went from memory), was/is a good idea. With the impending conclusion of season 4, and thus the end of the series, approaching in mid-January, this topic was more impassioned than our Rick Warren or sex sans dental dams conversations. Here's the thing that I have noticed about lesbians and Battlestar Galactica; they either hate it or they're a fanatic, there is NO in-between. NObody understands the general idea behind this television show; you either know it all, inside and out, or the only thing you know is that they use the word "frack" and the word is only included in your vocabulary for the sole purpose of making fun of a space-nerdy lesbian. NObody is casually flipping back and forth between "Will and Grace" and "BSG" and I dare anyone to try this while watching BSG with, again, a space-nerdy lesbian. An exception to this is if you are dating a Battlestar Galactica fan and you watch the show to find out what kind of sex you're going to have, because trust me, if your girlfriend is a BSG addict, it will affect your sex life. (They found earth=best sex ever. That spaceship blew up=I wasn't laid for days.)
Christmas Anecdote #2:
The night after Christmas I went out with some friends to dance off all, or at least some of, the Christmas time indulgences and after dancing we ended up at a dive bar on the east side of town. While I was sitting at the bar, I spotted this girl that I had once been set-up with. (In the spirit of Christmas I'll be courteous and say that...it was simply not good, but this girl was/is crazy-pants crazy.) I was not in the mood for civility, so I hatched a plan. If this girl spotted me, I was going to take off running; like sprint for your life, Mufasa running from the stampede take off running. (Even the craziest girl should get that kind of hint.) Well, she did spot me, our eyes met, and I bolted out of my chair...only...I was wearing this fabulous pair of red stilettos...I got a step and a half away and the back of my heel caught the end of a bar stool. BAM! I face planted right into the floor.
Well, this lesbian nut ran over, straddled me, and stuck her tongue down my throat. (I can't, in good conscious, pass up the sexual pun: I fell face first, but somehow ended up on my back...this is, ironically, how most of my lesbian escapades end...hey-ohh.) If you've ever wondered why you've never seen a lesbian in a pair of heels, now you know why! We make excuses about product durability or throw out bullshit lines about a comfort-level, but lesbians don't wear heels because WOMEN ARE CRAZY and we lesbians need reliable athletic sneakers to run our asses in the other direction. If I had been wearing lesbian approved footwear, my bolting scheme would have worked and I wouldn't of had...rabies-incarnate...stick her tongue down my throat. (OK, I don't think that she actually has rabies, that was harsh, but until I feel some sort of sanitation again, I'm going to keep on gargling hydrogen-peroxide.) All-in-all, it did make the bartender laugh, which is always nice, and now I not only have a great story to tell, but also a solid justification for not wearing heels.
Cheers to a great holiday season and a safe New Years.
P.S. I heard that Jay Mohr was going to legally take his wife's name, which is totally cool, but didn't he marry Nikki Cox? Will that make him Jay Mohr Cox?...get it, like "more cocks"...
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