Lesborama Drama Trauma...

So, I have this friend who several years ago started a lesbian social networking site called "The Bowed Rain/Sun Weather Phenomenon Non-Conformists."

OK. Not really. It 's called "The Rainbow Rebels," and it's out of Phoenix, Arizona.

It has grown into quite a social phenomenon, alright. Her site has about 800 lesbian members now. What she had originally intended as a simple means by which local lesbians could connect with each other through planning, hosting, and attending social events has turned into a hotbed (snicker, snicker) of unintended activity.

She often finds herself responding to concerns, complaints, and sometimes even harsh personal attacks. This seems to confuse and surprise her, and I just want to give her a big hug, bless her heart. That's so cute! As if you could EVER bring a group of more than two (2) lesbians together and expect things to go smoothly. She has 800 (she is crazy) all interacting to varying degrees. I'm surprised she hasn't been killed yet, or at least assaulted with a power tool.

You see, we lesbians are notorious for an affliction known as "Dyke Drama."  It is timeless, resistant to change, and no matter how educated or self-aware we are-we CAN'T HELP IT!

The "L-Word" was a ground breaking dramatic series built around this concept. Yes, the stories involved impossibly beautiful, successful, "femme" lesbians, with fascinating careers, international connections, and (MOST UNREALISTIC OF ALL) great hair. I think they had a "token butch" in there too.

Anyway, my point is that it doesn't take all of that to have the formula for a real life Dyke Drama. Just leave three or four lesbians alone in a room together, and go ahead and make some popcorn, because it's going to get entertaining.

You can spend months planning for something, trying to anticipate every possible contingency...and yet, there WILL be some kind of problem. I guarantee it. Someone, somewhere, somehow will get offended or hurt. Or both.

Felicia will get mad at Pinecone for inviting Cassidy, who one time looked at her wrong for smiling at Jay Ray who had a thing for Felicia after that crazy night at the 1999 Pride Festival, and then had the nerve to go up to Melinda and suggest that Rebecca told Amy about that thing Casey had said about her cat after the big softball tournament. And Jill will eat all of the hummus. Again.  WTF, JILL?

It's always crazy. And I wouldn't trade my community fellowship for the world. Not willingly, anyway. I'm sure I've pissed someone off, somewhere.

Now, if you will excuse me, I'm going to go get offended about something and blame the founder of "Rainbow Rebels." And try to get some hummus before it's gone.

Lesbians and dogs: scream and throw bacon

People love their pets. It's no mystery. They are part of our families. In America, there have been lots of sociological studies on this phenomenon. But lesbians...lesbians and their dogs..."Phenomenon" isn't a big enough word to describe the bond between a lesbian and her dog. And the neighbor's dog. And the dogs in the dog park, on Animal Planet, in the shelters, in the cars next to them in traffic, in the veterinarian's office, at the pet store, in dog food commercials...on the Iditarod trail...

You get the idea.

If you ever want to see a lesbian freak out and fall apart, make her watch the SPCA commercial with Sarah McLachlin singing, "In the Arms of an Angel"...I don't care how butch a lesbian she is...you are going to need a box of tissues and a grief counselor to help her pull through.

From poodles to Mastiffs, and everything in between, I have never seen such devotion as that which exists between a lesbian and her dog. Or dogs. Back in my day, lesbians seemed to gravitate towards certain breeds of dogs. Like, dogs that were part wolf, and named "Sirius" or "Midnight" or "Shadow Whisper." Nowadays, you can find lesbians in love with Chihuahua's named "Chicken," "Kowboy," Or "Pucky."

 I don't think I know a single lesbian who wouldn't go hungry so that her canine companion, whatever the variety, could eat. The bonds are incredible.

I was dog sitting for a straight couple, who are good friends of mine. The dogs I was caring for were a boxer, and a German Shepard mix. They were both stressed about being with a new person, as well as with being away from their beloved humans. They also had a history of skirmishes. Fortunately for me (and for them), when they started a battle to the death over a squeaky toy, I had a lesbian friend from Kansas visiting. She knew her way around dogs.

While I yelled, "No! Stop it! There's more than one rubber squeaky frog in the world!"...and tried desperately to pull them apart through snarling teeth and snapping jaws...while I ran to the fridge and pulled out bacon, throwing it at them directly from the package...while I hysterically squirted them with the kitchen sink nozzle...my friend calmly grabbed a thin aluminum baking pan, and with a resounding "NO!!!" smacked the Shepard on top of the head. The sound caused her to release her grip, and my friend dragged he away from the boxer and put her outside. Unfortunately, the boxer had been bitten pretty severely, and was bleeding badly.

My friend immediately started tending to her wounds, and calling instructions out to me. As I surveyed the tile floor, covered in water, bacon grease, tufts of fur, drool, and drops of blood, I did what any self respecting lesbian would do in a K9 crisis. I promptly threw up and passed out.

My poor friend then did what any REAL self respecting lesbian would do in a K9 crisis. She made sure I was alive, then stepped OVER me to get a towel, wrap the boxer up, and take her to the emergency vet in her new $30,000 truck. A $1400.00 later, the dogs' owners were obviously distressed...and also at the end of their rope. They knew the Shepard dog, Chloe, would be nearly impossible to re-home given her aggressive tendency with other dogs (this wasn't the first incident). After a lot of consideration, and through a long distance phone call they mentioned the possibility that they might have to have Chloe "put down"...

So, my poor friend, who had just been trying to visit me (and had just cleaned dog blood from the upholstery of her new $30, 000 truck) did what any self respecting lesbian would do. She promptly adopted Chloe and took her back to Kansas with her.

Of course, Chloe's owners had forgotten to mention that Chloe had allergies to Rye grass and barked at thunder. She now lives happily in...uh...Kansas (Rye grass and thunder capital of the world)...where she is so hopped up on doggie Benadryl and valium that, during those RARE thunderstorms, she is sprawled out- barking into the carpet.

She is also my friend's companion and total buddy now. My friend is a chef, and bakes her homemade doggie biscuits, and takes her everywhere in her new $30,000 truck. If Chloe had opposable thumbs, I'm sure my friend would also take her on long motorcycle rides through the wheat fields. I'm still expecting to hear that she has her own side car, helmet, and dog goggles.

Dog goggles is a good name for a lesbian rock band.

Anyway, Chloe is in a one dog household now. Of course, my friend also had 4 cats (lesbians and cats is a whole other blog entry), so the cats did have to establish the pecking order upon her arrival. Chloe knows her place...which is in my friend's lap when she is trying to read. Of course!

Thank goodness for my friend. Chloe hit the doggie jackpot. She was adopted by a self-respecting lesbian. I, on the other hand, almost had my membership card revoked.

Chloe at her new home in Kansas...this time I was visiting

So, if you encounter a lesbian and her dog....and the dog doesn't like you...do what I do. Scream and throw bacon. At the dog. Not at the lesbian.

Everyone knows lesbians are vegan.

Screw Barbie...

Long before I went to graduate school and learned terms like, "deconstructing the gender binary" I was, well, deconstructing the gender binary...with frogs and Tonka trucks. My poor parents (bless their hearts) called it "being a tomboy".

As many lesbians, (and my poor parents, bless their hearts) will tell you, trying to encourage a little person to conform to a gender role when it doesn't feel natural to them is a lot like herding cats.

Not that I've ever actually herded cats-although many lesbians do this successfully. That, or corralling dogs. But that is for another post.

Anyway, it's what I imagine trying to herd cats might be like.

My mother (bless her heart) did her very best. She dressed me in colorful, fluffy and frilly things. She put me in tights, and delicate little shoes. She put my hair in...umm...curlers...and praised me when I didn't try to climb every tree or stomp in every mud puddle that I came across.

And yet, I would STILL do these things. My favorite shoes were waffle stompers. My favorite clothes were  jeans from Sears and Roebuck, made from some kind of material that is probably used by NASA today to protect rocket ships. I wanted my hair to look like Sean Cassidy's.

Try as she might to buy me baby dolls, and Easy Bake Ovens, I was happier making mud pies, and building dirt roads for my Matchbox cars. My friends in the neighborhood where I grew up were all boys. Michael, Jerry and I wrecked that neighborhood.

We climbed, and ran, and built, and explored. I brought home snakes, salamanders, newts, toads, frogs, bugs, turtles...whatever I could catch. One time my parents went driving around the lake near our home looking for me, because they were going into town. They finally spotted me bent over in a ditch, and pulled up beside me. When they called my name, I stood abruptly upright. According to my poor mom (bless her heart), I had two fistfuls of live garter snakes, just dangling and writhing.

I'm so glad my parents survived my childhood. Really. Bless their hearts.

Anyway, Michael, Jerry and I built death defying jumps for our bicycles. My bicycle, by the way, originally came as a pink and white "girl's bike" with  long sparkling  tassles on the curved handlebars, and a big banana seat. The boys had awesome BMX bikes, so I gradually replaced the pieces on my bike, one at a time, until I had a kind of a girl's ghetto version.

I'm so glad I survived my childhood. Bless my heart. The forks on that dreadful BMX/ Barbie experiment were like toothpicks, and I flew off the jumps at the bottom of "Deadman's Hill" just as the boys did.

Jerry did have a sister. Her name was Jolene. and as I remember, she was slightly older than me. She was also the only girl in the neighborhood that I knew. We would play together every once in a while...but she ALWAYS wanted to play with Barbies. Needless to say, I did not relate to the clothes, and the long, blonde hair, and the fixation on this Ken guy.. I wanted to play with the pink (gag me) Corvette, and push it down the stairs...with Barbie in it...so we could then stage a Tonka truck rescue operation.

This is probably why I didn't play much with Jolene.

Gender roles are an interesting thing. In sociology, we say they are "social constructions"...meaning that, culturally, we just made the shit up. I can't explain why it is, but it seems to be that a lot of gay women ignored the "gender system" when they were girls, and still do it today.What I'm describing here isn't a desire to BE the opposite sex...keeping in mind that the terms "sex" and "gender" are not synonymous. Those things are all valid in their own-but different than what I'm referring to.I know that I am very happy and comfortable being a woman. I wouldn't change it. But, I have no idea how to operate high heels or mascara. At all. Seriously.

I'm just talking about my inherent resistance to sugar, and spice, and everything nice. I know a lot of lesbians who had similar experiences growing up. I also know a LOT of lesbians who can rock it in high heels.

I am just not one of them.

 This gecko can save you 15% on car insurance.

Lesbian celebrity crushes and other afflictions...

Back in the day, I had a serious crush on my fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Carlson. It happened when she read "Where the Fern Grows" to our class. I fell in love with the story, to be sure. But, as Mrs. Carlson would read to us the words in that soft, hypnotic voice of hers-changing tone and inflection to capture the personality of the characters, or the emotional intent of the passages-I began to think that Mrs. Carlson was...well... HOT. I didn't know exactly what that meant, but I did figure out that it wasnt just the adventures of Big Dan and Little Ann that had my heart racing. The excitement and urgency in her voice every time they treed a raccoon made me dizzy.

Yes, she was my first lesbian crush.

Lesbians, it seems, have raised "crushing" to an art form. It turns out, when I compare notes with other lesbians of my generation, that we were largely crushing on the same people (although Mrs. Carlson was probably unique to me).

Jo, from 'Facts of Life' (Nancy McKeon) is a favorite. I was also quite partial to Kristy McNichol of 'Family' fame. She was in a movie, 'Little Darlings'...I was sure I was going to die-and I about wore out my VHS tape. I had crushes on Sigourney Weaver (after I saw both 'Alien', and then 'Aliens') , and Linda Hamilton after I saw 'Terminator'. About the same time I was crushing on Mrs. Carlson, I also had a thing for Mary, from 'Little House on the Prarie'...of course, Melissa Gilbert was also perfect as Laura Ingalls. Later, I crushed on her sister Sarah Gibert-who played Darlene on 'Roseanne'.

One of my most intense crushes was in high school, when I was totally enthralled with Sharon Gless, who played Christine Cagney on 'Cagney and Lacey'. I actually had a scrapbook dedicated to her. I wasn't as dedicated as the lesbian stalker who broke into her real-life home and camped out there for a few days when Sharon Gless was away, but I was close.

I also went through an Amy Grant, and a Mary Stuart Masterson phase. I'm sure that 'Fried Green Tomatoes' had a lot to do with that, although I saw 'Some Kind of Wonderful' 1, 347 time.

OK. Not really. I will just say that I've seen it more than once.

Then there was Joan Jett, and Ally Sheedy after I saw her in 'The Breakfast Club'...nobody does dark and dandruff like Ally Sheedy.

I think it is interesting that, when I mention ANY of these names in lesbian group conversations, there is the unmistakable collective sigh of recognition. I wasn't the only one scrapbooking. While the other girls were reading "Tiger Beat" and drooling over Ralph Macchio and Eric Estrada, I was trying to figure out how I could get a pin-up of Ripley on my wall without being too obvious.

At one point, I did have a Sean Cassidy poster in my bedroom. When I came out to my mom, years later, she recalled that and pointed it out to me as evidence that I wasn't really gay. I had to tell her that the reason I had that poster is that I wanted his haircut.

I think we lesbians now have  a much different "crushing landscape" as I will refer to it. For one thing, we have a wider variety of strong female characters and personas to choose from. In this age of Melissa Etheridge, 'L-Word' (Oh....Shane...), and 'Orange is the New Black' (Oh, Alex)...we are out of the closet in a big way. Katy Perry can kiss a girl. Jodie Foster can come out on national television. We don't have to hide our crushes any longer!

Now, if you will excuse me...I have an entire season of 'Ellen' to watch. The series AND the talk show.

And the stand-up comedy specials.

I might have a crush on Ellen. And that's OK!

Bare Griz

Yeah! Bench warmer!

I eat sushi and drive a vulva! Sometimes at the same time.

I wanted to "come out" swinging with my first blog post.