Out of Hand

I am the only lesbian in my inner-circle of friends. This, alone, keeps me out of all sorts of lez trouble that I would most likely be tempted to participate in if I hung out with other lesbians. (IE. fucking/dating ex-girlfriend's ex-girlfriends. I don't get myself into that kind of lesbian trouble, because I don't know who any of my ex-girlfriend's ex-girlfriends are.) On the surface this seems productive and healthy; however, it does prove more difficult than one would think. While the straights in my life try to be supportive of my romantic woes, they simply don't understand the behavior of sappho-ic relationships. My friends and I spend most nights with me either explaining something, or justifying something, or hiding something; all while I look into the eyes of some confused, and often a little frightened, heterosexual.
**This might be why I started blogging**

Perhaps I should preface my story by telling you about my theory on lesbian bed death. Lesbians experience bed death because lesbian sex is hard work. There are lots of hands, lots of tongues, lots of toys, and lots of positions. On top of that (uh-hum), we are a resourceful lot; so, we never run out of ideas, props, or scenes. Once you meet a girl that you click with in the bedroom, it is glorious for weeks on end...until you wake up one morning and can't move your jaw. (If you understand what I'm talking about fantastic for you. If you don't, go out and bang a girl for ten days straight and call me in the morning.)

Here is my story.
I meet a girl that is bananas in bed. Seriously! Bananas! Jackpot, Right?! Well, the other day I woke up and I could not move my hand without some serious pain attached. I spilled coffee in the kitchen, burnt eggs because I couldn't flip them with my left hand, and I think that it is fair to say that my make-up didn't go so well that morning. I am a student, which means that I use my hands all...day...long. By the end of the day I had vowed to never fist a girl again. (I don't drink, so maybe this was my opportunity to experience hangover regret....maybe...and we all know how effective hangover regret is...) Anyways, at an end the day study session, a classmate asked, indiscreetly, how I hurt myself. I am not a good liar and I know this about myself and everyone knows I am gay, so I confessed...

"I meet this girl that is a real beast in bed. Apparently, my metacarpals are a little green when it comes to lesbian finger-banging."

"Did you know that the muscles and the nerves that control your hand actually start in the shoulder?" said the boyfriend of a not-so-close study partner of mine. "Everything in our body is connected. If you sat up straight, it would strengthen all the other muscles in your body, including those in your hand."

OK, the douche-bag comment aside, research showed that he had a point. What's my point? Don't ever stop fisting!!! and when you're finished on your back, turn your vibrator onto it. It might just stop all that post-war pain and forever cease what was once known as LESBIAN BED DEATH.

P.S. Did you know that the blogspot.com spell check doesn't recognize fisting as a legal word?

Passing Pioneer

Del Martin, the famed lesbian activist, recently passed away at the age of 87. Martin and her girlfriend of 55 years (need me to repeat that... 55 YEARS), Phyllis Lyon, founded the lesbian rights organization, the Daughters of Bilitis, and were the first lesbian couple married in California this year. If you haven't already read what the recent widow wrote about her wife, READ IT NOW...

"Ever since I met Del 55 years ago, I could never imagine a day would come when she wouldn't be by my side. I am so lucky to have known her, loved her and been her partner in all things. I also never imagined there would be a day that we would actually be able to get married. I am devastated, but I take some solace in knowing we were able to enjoy the ultimate rite of love and commitment before she passed."

How fucking sweet is that? If you are a lesbian and you didn't get a little teary reading that, I demand that you fall in love with a girl and move in next door to Sarah Palin.

P.S. I almost titled this blog "Dead Daughter"... Then I realized that, contrary to popular belief, I possess a soul.

Candidates. Campaigns. and Conventions. OH...SHIT!

Brace yourselves people...It is election season and it is about to get ugly. With only eight weeks left, the race for the presidency is about to get as dramatic as an identifying straight girl engaging in a newly-developed lezzy relationship. I am no patriot, but I do love the election season. I love that convictions and perceptions run rampant with no clear path or destination, but yet filled with passion and fervor. I love that, during this span of time, it is completely acceptable for you to have conversations about topics you know absolutely nothing about with people you care absolutely nothing about. I get excited about the potential conversion of a country I was just on the brink of losing faith in. Then, like a ton of bricks, we reach early September and I remember how quickly it all becomes a GINORMOUS PILE OF BULLSHIT.

From here on out these two modern day primates will cease to exist as two separate citizens fighting for the same cause. (That cause is the betterment of the great country you live in... in case you were confused) John McCain and Barack Obama are no longer real people, rather conceptions of real people. No news article (or funny lesbian blog) will mention one without the other. Everything they say will be dissected by millions and thrown back in their face at a precise, strategic moment. Nothing they do will go unnoticed and I would bet my collection of Harry Potter books that everything they do over the next eight weeks is because someone advises them to do it.

This year I am lobbying for a "none of the above" option. Why is this not an option? Seriously? Do we really need a president?(It's not like the one we have now does anything) Would it be so bad if we spent the next four years as an executive-free country?

In 1787, when our founding fathers assembled for the constitutional convention, more than one-third of those gathered promoted the idea of multiple, single-term executives. And according to my encyclopedia*, if George Washington had not been the great man that he was, the executive seat (as it is today) most likely would never have been created. George Washington advocated powerfully for the new government; yet, did everything in HIS power to stay out of the limelight. It is for this very reason that he was unanimously voted into the seat. His self-doubt on his ability to lead, his fear that his motives for the new government would be misconstrued as motives for personal gain, and his genuine love of peace were the reasons that he became entrusted to be our first president. Interesting side note: The first citizens of the United States trusted George Washington so much that parts of the constitution were intentionally left blank so that George could fill them in later. (Would we trust our modern day George with a task of that kind of historical caliber?)

You give me a candidate today that resembles the traits of our inaugural president, even a little, and I will give you my vote. Until then I am writing in none of the above. Or Jackie Warner.

*(2007) The New Encyclopedia Britannica 15 edition