Hey there, trench-drenchers!
Yes I said it.
Today it managed to stay light outside until 5 p.m.
|[by Rian Merrill]|
Holy, holy shit.
As I headed toward the bathroom at work, I saw the sun slant onto the office carpet all warm and evening-like for the first time in ages, and it occurred to me that maybe it won't always be freezing forever, with blackened slush and lead-grey skies and heavyass winter boots and fucking puffy coats that always fall off onto the floor when you hang them up.
Maybe, someday, it won't get dark 'till 9 p.m., and we'll all be laughing somewhere with our bikes in a circle on the street while we eat ice cream, waiting for a band to start their set, wearing tank tops that show off great tattoos and curving collarbones while the balmy breeze gently ruffles our asymmetrical haircuts.
I don't know about you faggettes, but when winter hits, I have the distinct, animal-like tendency to curl up and hibernate.
Put on the red footie pajamas, bake gluten-free chocolate cake, light the balsam-fir-scented candle, get out the shameful Thomas Kinkade (Painter of Light!) 750-piece jigsaw puzzle with the picture of cozy, non-existent English hamlets and spread it alllll out over the floor.
This is what I do if I allow myself to hibernate.
And... once I start hibernating, it gets gradually harder and harder to do anything at all outside of the bare minimum of going to work.
Eventually, as the weeks pass, vital, regular-life things, such as 'going to the grocery store' or 'taking the trash outside' become insurmountable tasks.
Obtaining food (at the grocery store less than 1 block from my house) means taking off my pajamas.
And I am not willing to do that.
For any reason.
|[thanks Hannah L.]|
I become a living embodiment of the principle of inertia: I resist any change to my state of rest.
Lots of people do this in the wintertime.
Why do you think gayelles vanish from the clubs and restaurants and bars and events?
It's too fucking cold and girls are soft and warm to cuddle with.
As my friend Sarah's grandma once said to me: "Honey, it's colder than a nun's cunt out there."
Everyone's at home, wifed up with their girlfriends and roommates, bitching about how no one goes out, Netflixing Bound for the 22nd time in their sweatpants.
This year, knowing my tendencies toward extreme shut-in-like behavior, I decided to perform a Highly Scientific Experiment.
Hypothesis: If inertia works one way for me - i.e. an object at rest wants to stay at rest - then the inverse must be true - i.e. an object in motion wants to stay in motion.
Like I formally declared in my New Year's resolutions: I was going the fuck out.
And now, y'allfags, I'm exhausted.
I've been going out all over the place.
For a hermit like me, it's been fairly intense.
In the last week or so I've: shot pool and darts (yes) at a two different dyke bars, watched a lesbian comedy show, gone to the Chicago League of Lady Arm Wrestlers, gone to see a 90s-sounding garage girlpunky band, and been dancing twice.
And...it's working! The Scientific Experiment is working!
My body in motion wants to maintain its state of motion!
Sluts, I've found the cure for Winter Dyke Drought:
Just go out a few days in a row, and you won't be able to stop after that.
You'll remember that you like to do things not-so-much involving your electric blanket, and inertia will take care of the rest.
When I win the Nobel Prize for discovering this, I expect you all to put on some actual pants and come to the afterparty, btdubbs.
Anyway! Since everyone's been inside so much, have you been watching all these "Shit That ___ Say" YouTube videos lately?
I know, I know.
Everyone's sick of 'em.
Everyone except me.
My god. I can't get enough.
It started with this one:
And morphed into a whole genre of hilarious shit.
We all traded the best videos back and forth among ourselves at work, and I thought that every possible population niche had finally been accounted for....
UNTIL I SAW THIS ONE:
And laughed at my desk until tears streamed down my face.
"Is this gluten-free?" "We met because her ex and my ex are dating now." "Let me just re-blog this post about pronoun usage."
HELP ME JEEBUS I'M A STEREOTYPE.
The lesbian in me wants to get offended by this, but there is really no. denying. that I've said "heteronormative" in the last few days.
|[thanks http://rachelmaddowheygirl.tumblr.com. just...thanks.]|
But really, though - why is this video so funny?
I think it's funny because it's an exaggerated version of the truth.
I see myself in it.
And...how is it possible that so many of us say these exact things?
Where did all this come from? Who started it?
Why do lots of us latch onto the same ideas - so many of us that someone can make a hilarious, total burn of a video and have thousands of queer girls instantly identify with it?
Y'know, going out so much to queer stuff lately has gotten me thinking about gaydar in general.
How are lesbians and queer girls so damn distinctive?
How do entire clutches of girls manage to throw off "gay" to onlookers?
How do we glance at a group of women and instantly get a suspicion that peen might not be on the snacktray ?
Is it a walk? A way of talking? A specific item of clothing?
Is lesbianism a special club you instantly join the moment you admit you're going through more than a 'passing phase' with boobies?
Clearly these deep issues must be pondered.
Because y'allfags, I've been getting quite a few plaintive letters just like this one lately:
*edited for length*
Hi Krista of effingdykes,
I have a problem. I know this is going to sound weird, but here goes: I finally figured out last year that I'm queer, but I don't think I'm gay enough for the gays, if that makes sense.
I'm not straight and I'm not bi. I'm queer. I guess I would be called a lesbian, 'cos I don't sleep with men, but...I don't know how to "be a lesbian." (Ok this isn't making any sense, I'm sorry.) I just feel like when I'm out with other lesbians, I don't know what to do. The dykes in my town are really cliquey, and it's impossible to break in. I want to be in the club, but I don't know how. I feel like lesbians don't accept me, and straight people don't either. Maybe I act wrong.
Ok thanks for your help if you understood this at all,
Cliquey dykes, eh?
Sounds like every town.
K.L., all dykes in all towns are cliquey, and if you think they're not, that means that you're happily ensconced in a dyke clique of your very own.
|[thanks Jennifer B.]|
It's really hard to break into new friend circles.
It takes a long time.
A lot of us come out and go "I'M READY NEW GAY FRIENDS COME FIND MEEEE" and then are perplexed when it proves harder than it looks to break into an awesome queer posse.
|[thanks Elle R.]|
The 'Shit Queer Grrrls Say' video jokes about it, but lots of queers - especially *cough cough* urban, privileged, young queers - share similar ideas.
Lots of us meet on the internet.
We, as a people, tend to care about where our food comes from.
We all, all, all have crazy exes.
But that doesn't mean that's how all queer girls act.
Not all dykes like cats.
Not all queerelles are boi-ish.
Some lezzers never go out.
|[thanks Valerie F.]|
Obviously, there's no one way to be gay.
We are all beautiful and unique flowers in the swaying homosexual meadow - delicate, intricate blossoms of color that alone are lovely, but together make up a lush, brilliant meadow of faggotry.
K.L., you "not knowing how to act" around the cliques of dykes in your town just means you don't know how to be yourself around them yet.
Or that they suck and you're hanging around the wrong queers.
|[thanks Sof X]|
Not being "gay enough for the gays" is their bullshit problem, not yours.
And I have news for you:
You're already in the club.
You're a member just by being queer.
While I was talking this over with CJ, she thoughtfully crunched into my last apple and said that she had just read an article that said that:
while social media is breaking boundaries all over the world in unprecedented ways, allowing us immediate access to personal information about each other online... in real life, people are marking their social boundaries more and more definitively.
Claiming exclusive turf where once there was shared turf; pissing on a particular spot of an ever-shrinking patch of land.
I think queers do a lot of this shit.
We can't hang out 'cause you're new.
We can't hang out 'cause you usually fuck girls but you sometimes fuck boys.
We can't hang 'cause you're not political enough; 'cause you're a transdyke; 'cause you don't identify the same way we do.
|[thanks Andrea B.]|
It's rude! It's no fun! It divides us where we should be backing each other up!
Anybody else feel where K.L. is coming from?