Can our mascot be part-wolf?
10/04/08 08:26
People
are often surprised to learn that I have
ex-boyfriends.
"But,
you have a girlfriend right now,
right?"
This
is always presented as a contradictory statement. I
find it puzzling.
I
would like to think that in our modern
po-mo-multi-culti-virtual paradise it would cease to
be shocking that I, a woman dating a woman, have
dated, even mated, men.
Can
you imagine going to your favorite restaurant,
ordering a steak, and having the waiter sneer at you,
"No, you must have zee chicken. Last time you had zee
chicken. Zees time you have zee chicken. You must
ALWAYS have zee chicken."*
I
am a proud product, global warfare and corn syrup
aside, of the United States of America, the land of
surf and turf, and I'll take what I want when I want
it.** Besides, I grew up in Yakima, Washington. It's
not like there was a lesbian high school for me to go
to. Sleeping with boys is just another bad habit I
picked up in high school. Kind of like I don't think
of myself as a stoner or a shoplifter anymore, but if
you look in my purse you might find a joint and some
nail polish I didn't pay for.
I
went out with a girl in college who really did go to
lesbian high school. Apparently it was pretty much
like regular high school, except that the first girl
you kiss becomes your locker partner for the next
three years, all the driver's ed cars have manual
transmissions, and the prom theme is "Magic Carpet
Ride."
Since
my actually high school's mascot was a pirate, I will
end this blog by stating, for the record, that AC
Davis High School had no officially mandated sexual
orientation whatsoever during my time there. I don't
care what pirates make you think of, sun-drenched,
hungry for booty, buccaneer broadswords barely
sheathed . . .
*Not to be confusing, but the waiter just has to be French. Trust me. **I'm not going to talk about food anymore in this blog, because I can't stop thinking about doggie bags and I don't have anything to say about that. The doggie bag is where the sexual parallels fall a little flat, since we all know that there's plenty of room for leftovers in my vagina.
*Not to be confusing, but the waiter just has to be French. Trust me. **I'm not going to talk about food anymore in this blog, because I can't stop thinking about doggie bags and I don't have anything to say about that. The doggie bag is where the sexual parallels fall a little flat, since we all know that there's plenty of room for leftovers in my vagina.
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