I, your favorite big ol' lesbo, have just emerged from THE straightest weekend ever.
On Saturday I attended my dear friend's wedding where I once again wowed the crowd with my 80s dance moves.
On Sunday, I attended another dear friend's baby shower. There was no wowing at this event as the dance moves were confined to the car as I drove to and fro the restaurant. My fellow motorists on Route 280 seemed to be impressed though.
The capper for this marathon hetero weekend? I felt up a dude.
Well, not on purpose. Let me 'splain...
I stayed in Jersey until this morning and had to partake in ye olde suburban commute. I got off the bus and clomped zombie-like through the long, crowded corridor connecting the Port Authority and the Times Square subway stations. As I adjusted the heavy duffel bag on my left shoulder, my right arm swung loose and made direct contact with some guy's junk. Well, it wasn't direct contact necessarily since he was wearing pants. FYI, that is not an extraneous detail to include since this is, after all, New York.
My introduction to the man's genitals was more of a back-handed graze as opposed to full-on cuppage but regardless, I felt sheepish. I looked over at the guy I accidentally violated to offer my apologies and noticed that he seemed quite pleased by my less-than-traditional "handshake." Apparently, my technique was quite good.
I think I need to really gay it up this week to restore my lesbo luster. On the agenda: Jodie Foster movies, heated discussions using the words "patriarchy" and "oppression," animal rescue, vegan cooking and the casting of a Wiccan spell or two.
Gawd, I cannot even joke about that.
