Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Masculinity is in the eye of the beholder.
In the morning she's a Mrs, in the afternoon she's a Ms., in the evening she's a Mr.
-SCTV (around 1980)
Back in the day, I worked the shelves and register at the local Food Zoo, a fuggin grocery store Ok. On the Cohoes bad streets, it wasn't all that uncommon to see a lesbian or two. They would come in store, load up on 20/20 and some unfiltered PalMals, grab their girlfriend by the arse, and off they go, back to Isle of Lesbos. No problem. Actually, proximity bred familiarity and acceptance of other lifestyles (RIGHT!)
Anyhow, I can spot lesbians at 100 paces or so. I don't know, call it a gift.
Didn't need it at dinner the other night.
Ok, the Mrs. was quite nice to me over the weekend and let me select our entertainment book dinner. I went with Mexican Connection. Hate Mexican food? Go there and get a Margarita. Like Mexican food? That's great cause they will never, ever, punch your entertainment card.
We made reservations because at this blessed time of year, the beautiful Saratoga people like their guacamole. We get there and get seated immediately.
At the next table were three women. Not that they weren't trying to hide the fact.
One gal caught my eye. Let's call her Bill. She had short, spiky hair. Square cut, no taper for her. Eyeglasses were wire rim. Yes, the kind your old man used to wear. She sported the finest in "torn off sleeves" workshirt and some denim shorts cut in such way to accentuate the size of her calves. The ensemble was complete with the finest workboots Timberlands offers. The small jailhouse tattoo on her bicep subtly told onlookers that yes, she was secure in her feminity yet, she had the guns to shoot down any puny man.
Allright, my gal pals are there enjoying their meal. Hell, we all were. I especially enjoyed this wry tidbit:
Lesbidiot Friend: Why does everyone hate Veronica?
Bill (see profile above): Aw, hell, she's too butch! ¶ 2:38 PM
-SCTV (around 1980)
Back in the day, I worked the shelves and register at the local Food Zoo, a fuggin grocery store Ok. On the Cohoes bad streets, it wasn't all that uncommon to see a lesbian or two. They would come in store, load up on 20/20 and some unfiltered PalMals, grab their girlfriend by the arse, and off they go, back to Isle of Lesbos. No problem. Actually, proximity bred familiarity and acceptance of other lifestyles (RIGHT!)
Anyhow, I can spot lesbians at 100 paces or so. I don't know, call it a gift.
Didn't need it at dinner the other night.
Ok, the Mrs. was quite nice to me over the weekend and let me select our entertainment book dinner. I went with Mexican Connection. Hate Mexican food? Go there and get a Margarita. Like Mexican food? That's great cause they will never, ever, punch your entertainment card.
We made reservations because at this blessed time of year, the beautiful Saratoga people like their guacamole. We get there and get seated immediately.
At the next table were three women. Not that they weren't trying to hide the fact.
One gal caught my eye. Let's call her Bill. She had short, spiky hair. Square cut, no taper for her. Eyeglasses were wire rim. Yes, the kind your old man used to wear. She sported the finest in "torn off sleeves" workshirt and some denim shorts cut in such way to accentuate the size of her calves. The ensemble was complete with the finest workboots Timberlands offers. The small jailhouse tattoo on her bicep subtly told onlookers that yes, she was secure in her feminity yet, she had the guns to shoot down any puny man.
Allright, my gal pals are there enjoying their meal. Hell, we all were. I especially enjoyed this wry tidbit:
Lesbidiot Friend: Why does everyone hate Veronica?
Bill (see profile above): Aw, hell, she's too butch! ¶ 2:38 PM
