The One About Being Hit on by Chicks

Category: weekleez


laura this graphique is perfect!

a mild warning to sensitive readers:
this week’s epitomb touches upon a very delicate topic. some of you may not want to read it. some of you may be offended by it. and some of you may come looking for me to beat the crap outta me. and if you’re one of the ones that hunts me down so you can beat me up all’s i ask is that you don’t punch me in the throat or face. oh, and don’t worry, i won’t fight back. i’m a despicable coward. i will lay there like a sack of wet flour, oozing and praying that you think i’m dead… which is how you’re supposed to act when a bear attacks you. if people survive bear attacks this way then i’m certain that i’ll survive a beating by a bunch of gays like you. *snicker*  

The One About Being Hit on by Chicks
January 28, 2003

hi kids,

so i missed a week. maybe you noticed. i had nothing to write about. nothing. it was sad. what is sadder still is that i don’t have anything for this week either. unless of course you want to hear some of the stories about lesbians hitting on me! and hey, who doesn’t want to read about that?!
well, besides me anyway.

first, i’d like to say that i am often the butt of god’s jokes. i know this. i accept it. and i’m beginning to be able to laugh along with the big guy when i find myself in strange yet hilarious situations. the only thing i get tired of is that i’m always alone when crazy things happen to me. there’s no one there for me to turn to and say, “see?! see what i have to put up with?! this stuff happens to me all the time!”

like the one about gas station attendents. no one is ever there when that crazy hag talks to me. why, just the other day i went in and there she was in all her vacant-minded glory. and before i went to pay for my gas i thought about going out and getting my dad (who was waiting in the car) to have him come in and hear whatever stupid thing i was certain was going to come out of her random mouth. but no, i left dad in the car and paid my for my gas and as she was handing me back my change she said, “I’m sleepy. I’m lazy. I’m sorry.” and then started laughing.

*sigh* what the hell do i say to that?

and i know you’re thinking, “jaimie, why do you keep going to that gas station? you’re begging for it!”

first of all, i avoid that place like the plague! it’s only rarely that i find myself at those pumps. it. just. happens. okay?!
and secondly, what do you mean i’m begging for it? jerk hole!

anyway, on with the gay weekly. i asked laura if she thought that this weekly might be offensive. she said it wasn’t gay enough. so we’ll see.

and now… a disclaimer.
i am not homophobic. also, i am not of the gay. bisexual? nay. in fact, i have a problem with bisexuals, i mean c’mon, both? you’re just being selfish. so just to make sure we’re all on the same page, i’m not judging anyone, except those damn bisexuals. who do you think you are, anyway?!

i’m just little ol’ jaimie “straighter than a month of sundays” pickle. so if you happen to be gay and i say something that offends you, well, we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it. maybe i won’t piss anybody off and we’ll all get a good laugh. or maybe i’ll piss everybody off and i won’t have to do these anymore! why didn’t i think of this sooner?!

the thing about these Lesbian Stories (sounds like porn doesn’t it?) is that they both take place at work. so it’s not like i’m in a gay bar and wondering, “why are these women flirting with me?” i’m at work. work. also, like i’ve already mentioned, god likes a good laugh, so i’m alone. no witnesses. no one i can turn to and say, “hey remember the time that…”

Lesbian Story #1 ca. 2000

so i’m at work, right? i’m in the back making signs and probably whistling a jaunty tune. and this guy walks in. well, he looks more like a teenager. some kid with a baseball jersey and a ballcap that looks a little big on his head. so i think to myself, probably on one of the school teams. he needs a sponsor sign or something. no biggie.

as i walk closer to the fella i say, “can i help you?” and the dude turns into this middle aged woman and starts asking me about banners. holy cow i’m glad i didn’t say, “can i help you, sir?” or something. man, i need to start wearing my glasses at work, yo.

so this lady starts telling me that she needs a banner and that she and her friends have this party every summer and how much would it cost to get a banner that says Camp Wedontwannaweenee on it and how long will it take to get it made?

camp weedonwa? what did she say?

“well,” i say, “a 3’x6′ banner will cost ya about $50 bucks and.” wedontwannaweenee wedontwannaweenee that’s what she said. oh my gosh. where’s the hidden camera this cannot be real oh hell yes it’s real don’t laugh don’t laugh don’t laugh.

so then she says, “wedontwannaweenee… get it?”

don’t laugh don’t laugh don’t laugh.

i laughed.
“yes, ma’am. i get it. that’s uh, pretty clever.” and i snickered some more. ‘cos the day had started out boring and this was definitely not a boring thing. it was craZy-funny, and it got craZier.

“you’ve never heard of it?”
“um, no ma’am sure haven’t.”
“what? this is our 14th year! you’ve never heard of it?”
“no, no i haven’t.” what does she mean by that?

she started telling me all about this party they have and how much fun it is and they have music and all and bladdy bladdy bladdy and i’m thinking wait ’til the gang hears about this. this is so funny whatta weekly it’ll make! wait. i can’t do a gay weekly. think of all the hate mail. oh well.

so then she starts giving me directions to this camp/party.
“um, do you want the directions on the banner?”
“no. i’m giving you directions so you can come on out and party with us.”
“oh. um. i uh. huh. thank you?”
huh. i just got invited to a lesbian party. odd.

so i go and tell all my friends about my strange day and no one has ever heard of any lesbian fun day called camp wedontwannaweenee.

anyway, weeks later.
laura is at a friends house way out in the boonies. and there’s this loud music playing. and she asks her buddy, “what’s that? is there a concert or something?” and he says, “nah, it’s just the lesbians. you know, that camp weedontwannaweenee thing.”
get out!
camp wedontwannaweenee comes full circle!

Lesbian Story #2 ca. 2002

so i’m at the sign shop. working. making signs. this lady comes in. and there’s nothing overtly butch about her. she’s just this lady wanting a banner. a normal banner. not a banner for any lesbian camps or gay pride events or anything. just a regular old banner. very boring.
so i tell her about the banners and the prices and show her the colors and whatnot. so she says to me, “jaimie, can i ask you a question?”

“sure,” i say, fully expecting a question about artwork, logos, colors blah blah blah.

“jaimie, are you family?”

so i stop and think for a moment, huh? oh. she means am i related to kelly or richard or something like that. so i tell her that no, i’m not related to the owners i just work for them. ‘cos actually lots of people have asked me if i’m kelly’s daughter or something. pisses the boss off something awful. she’s only 15 years older than me.
anyway, i tell her all about how i’m not related to the bosses.

she looks at me kinda funny y’know? kinda like, smirky. and i think to myself why is she smirking? did i say something stupid? i answered her question didn’t i? and i’m not sure what happened but i think that a clue must’ve flown in and hit me in the head with the force of a thousand forceful things ‘cos immediately i get it. “oh!”

so i’m a little embarrassed y’know? i get all rambley and stupid. “oh uh, no ma’am. nope i’m not. sorry.” and i shrug as if someone had just asked me something like, “hey jaimie, do you have any #2 pencils i can borrow?” “huh? oh. nope. sorry.” wince. shrug.

and i go back into rambley mode about banners and colors and i know i’m just blushing profusely. because for some reason i feel just so damn stupid and while in mid-sale i think back to what i’ve said and realize that i basically just said, “sorry. i’m not gay.”
sorry? sorry?!
god jaime, you are an idiot.

so finally when the lady leaves i look up at god, who i know is laughing, and i say, “family? family?! come on!” and i can see him chuckling and saying in his boomy-father-like voice, “heh heh. jaimie, you should’ve seen your face! heh.”

yeah yeah yeah. how about a greek adonis next time?

so anyway. the thing is. i’m watching tv and this olive garden commercial comes on and at the end they say, “when you’re here…you’re family.” i laugh every time remembering lesbian story #2 and how i apologized for being straight. but when i laugh (because really, the word family has become hilarious to me) at those commercials other people look at me like i’m insane because those commercials are not funny. so now olive garden makes me think of italian food and lesbians (and now, so do you). a winning combination i’m sure.

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