OKCupid should just shoot me

I recently joined OkCupid much to the encouraging of my friends (including Woolf). They all said it was "a great way to meet people" and I foolishly believed them.

Having had my profile up for less than a week I have had over 100 views, I have 50 messages, at least 25 winks (whateverthefuck that means) and maybe one or two of the people who have messaged me can actually spell, use grammar and aren't looking for a hookup with their "man" involved.

I am semi-disgusted/its like watching a train wreck.

Couple of things about OkC though that have gotten me thinking...

1. is the gay community really just out there on these dating/social networking sites just for the enjoyment of sexually adventurous hetero couples

and 2. Why did I join?

I have no answer for either.

But I have noticed a few things about the lesbians on OkC...

1. I know a great deal of them. And great deal of the ones I know, I know on a Biblical level if you will.

2. All the cute, andro girls are on the coasts. Either NYC or Portland. Looks like I need to move. Or make Denver more appealing to them. Here is my attempt: If you are an androgynous woman and are looking to move somewhere, move to Denver. I will buy you drinks and be a slut for you.

3. All the ones that message me that are identifying as gay have a picture of them and their dog or they have ONE picture of them and then FIVE of just their dog. Which wouldn't bother me because I like dogs. But its a dating website. Who the fuck cares what your dog looks like? We want to know that you don't look like dog.

4. All the ones that message me who aren't identifying as gay are bisexual. I know, I know...bisexuals have a terrible rep around our community and its kinda mean. But the ones that have messaged me have seriously lived up to it. AND I QUOTE "my man and I were looking at profiles and saw yours and damn, we wanna do bad things to you." Seriously?! It says I am looking of ladies, and only ladies...how does that equate you and your man doing anything to me but keeping your parts in your pants and going away?

5. A lot of lesbians need better hair cuts and the ones that need better hair cuts are usually also rocking some frosted tips or bad bleach jobs. NOT OK LADIES. Listen, if you have a hair cut that you think I may be referring too, then go get it cut.

I know some good stylists, they both do my hair and I love them...Ashe at Instrukt on Ogden or Nichelle at Aveda on Market. Call them, change it. Stop being that dyke with the bad hair.

6. If I looked at your profile and didn't message you, that was probably because I wasn't interested...so girl who keeps sending me messages saying "you looked at my profile but didn't message me so I thought I would message you" I got your message, I am just not interested. Seriously... Would you attack a girl at a bar who looked you? "You looked at me but didn't say hello, so I am saying hello." No, you wouldn't...so why do it on the internet? Please stop.

7. Straight men seem to think that me saying I am only into women means that I am into women and maybe them, even though they are not women at all and never were. So if you a straight man reading this (which I doubt) and you are on OkC (which I doubt even more) please stop pestering all the lesbians. Go hit on the bi girls. They are into you and will have a threesome with you because they like women too.

8. Finally, this is my biggest issue with the people on OkC who have contacted me...You have a nice face, your profile seems snarky and intelligent and then I look at your photos. Everything seems normal until I see the one of you in your LARPing costume and the caption says "On the weekends I play dress up and hit people with padded sticks." HOW DOES THAT GET YOU LAID? I mean, really? I don't get it. It's weird and creeps me out. I think that maybe OkCupid should make another way to identify yourself...LARPer or normal adult who doesn't pretend she is a wood nymph, ever, not even on Halloween.

Maybe my friends were right, its a great way to meet people...just not always the people you are looking to meet.

Happy Trails... back to rating people. (That's really the only part I like...)

-Alice.

Rugby...the ultimate lesbian sport (Woolf)

Sometimes when I play rugby or am involved with the social scene of rugby I feel a scene from the movie Mean Girls coming on. Like when the high schoolers suddenly become animals in the mind of the ever creative Lindsey Lohan character.

No but seriously. That is how it feels.

When you hit the pitch, these girls get carnal. They get angry. Mean. Mad. And when you drop a ball, there is no understanding. No coddling. Its all "PICK IT UP YOU FUCK!". Now, I get it. Its a nasty sport, but seriously, what is it about ladies that gets them all nasty at other ladies in moments like this?

I joined rugby thanks to the convincing of a fine batch of ladies whom I met at a birthday party in March. When I was a) a recent colorado returnee, b) on crutches, and c) completely incapacitated due to aforementioned crutches and post-foot-surgery-nightmare. Nonetheless, the idea stuck. And a few months later, I saw one of these ladies at a bar. She reminded me about how I had promised to play rugby. (I had?) And that I really should want to play. So I joined up.

Now all that is fine and well. I made a great decision. I have made new friends. Really learned to love the sport again. But wait...There's more.

Now, after a brief spat with said friend (brief. spat. and friend. are all understatements) I feel as though I am in the gauntlet. Everyday I am fighting with a zoo animal of various sorts. Oscillating between glances, anger, and evading actually tackling. (Cause tackling requires touching. Duh). And honestly, its a bit tiresome.

This is not to say that I don't get why this is all happening. I do. Woolf had a really long week of crazy wherein everyone steered clear of her (including her beloved Alice). But seriously? We're on the same team.

So here are my current musings regarding the rugby world of ladies and what it does to our delicate female psyches.

1. Not all rugby players are lesbians. Chances are the ones you think are lesbians....aren't. And the ones you think aren't? Are. Case in point: Prop who is screaming dyke from every angle. Totally straight. Super femme forward player who is super bad ass. Dyke. Completely.

2. The smaller ladies are the best players. I mean this with the double entendre. Completely.

3. Just because I am a bohemeth of a chick does not mean that I am a good player. In fact, it just means I fall really really hard when you hit me. (Double entendre intended here too)

4. Screwing up in a game lasts two seconds. But it will be held against you all week by your team. In fact they'll mention it....daily. On facebook. Via text. And at practice.

So there you have it. I joined rugby. I'm now bruised. Battered. Baffled. And bewildered. But happy nevertheless. And you know what? If said friend is going to channel various African Savannah animals, so will I. And the next time I see her, I will pounce and maybe claw her eyes out....If only I can catch her (please see observation 2).

Long time no...anything. (Alice)

Hey. Hi. Hello. It's been a while.

My life has gotten a bit focused and chaotic in the past couple of weeks...at the same time... consequently I have been come unfocused and weirdly calm about it all.

I am sure you don't wanna hear about my boring family/school/life/I moved the furniture around in my apartment for several hours because I couldn't sit still-- drama...

So on to the lesbotron 99 solo friday night adventure of Alice.

I went to the local lesbian watering hole, where by the don't actually serve water.

On a Friday night.

Alone.

Why alone?

A few reasons, mostly all adding up to everyone being lame except me. I got all gussied up in my favorite dress (that Woolf helped me pick out), wore my favorite vans that have massive holes in them (so they basically serve no real shoe-like purpose) and had what I like to think was the best hair night in the recent history of my hair and I went to the bar.

Where I proceeded to drink far too much whiskey, ran into friends I hadn't seen since the last lunar eclipse and we had a fantastic time.

There was no drama, minus me getting people with bad hair and worse shirts to take pictures willingly and some how made more "that's what she said jokes" than I have ever made in my life, despite my loathing for them.

It was great night of drama free escaping.

Then I woke up with three new phone numbers in my phone with names that I am not sure are actual names, or just a mashing of letters I thought looked nice (I deleted them). I also woke up with bruises on my arm and a tingly forearm, which I concluded came from me getting in a serious fight with myself, since there were no ramifications or evidence otherwise. Or maybe I just ran into a wall, got abducted by aliens, fell down some stairs or slept on it weird. Any of those could be logical explanations. Unfortunately I have no memory of any of it.

But before I fell asleep I drunk dialed unBeau and apparently laughed a bunch about a silly video on youtube and talked somewhat like a toddler. For which, I am never going to hear the end of.

I think, dear readers (if there are any of you out there) that I may be reverting back to my youth. By youth I mean, toddler. Minus the diapers, plus whiskey. Should be a good time.

Stay tuned, I promise to write more and maybe stir the drama pot for some excitement.

Ps. Fancy ponytails are curled, hair sprayed, perfectly pulled back to not look there was any real effort made to do so kind of ponytails. Awkward. Not ok. Just cut it off and butch it up for reals. Every time I see a butch girl with a fancy pony all I think is "pillow princess" and then throw up in my mouth. No exaggeration.

Also if you are wearing cargo anything and not 1. in the military and in uniform or 2. actually carrying cargo, please, don't wear them. Otherwise I will be forced to put my trash in your pockets.

Cheers.

The Don'ts of Lesbian Fashion (According to Woolf)

Alice and I have been involved in a myriad of conversations as of late regarding lesbian fashion.

Our friend Cargo, Alice, our token straight boy (TSB), and I were out at lunch on Saturday eating biscuits at the Denver Biscuit company. (Which is delicious by the by) At some point, Alice started a rant about what is deemed inappropriate lesbian "fashion". Included on this list was Cargo Shorts and Butches with long hair (especially those with fancy ponytails...I'll let Alice explain). Cargo is named this because she obviously wears them and has long hair and is butch. So she's a trifecta of poor choices in lesbian fashion according to Alice.

I'm not one to judge and I can't comment on her pet peeves, as I too wear cargo shorts. In fact I have a pair of camo cargoes that are just below the knee. Cargo was quick to tell me that they are in fact "capris". Damnit. I own camo, cargo capris. Color me a disaster in the book of Alice Fashion.

So while I may make Alice cringe with my frequent clothing choices, I have my own set of "rules". Some of them are pretty typical and others might surprise you.

1. The mullet is not cool. A reverse mullet is not cool either. Both of these hairstyles should have died long ago. The mullet never should have happened. Whoever thought it was a good idea to have party in the back and business in the front ought to have a lobotomy. The reverse mullet is the haircut that lesbians just can't get rid of--very long in the front, short in the back. This wasn't cool in the late 90's and it still isn't.

2. Cargo PANTS. Fine. I get the shorts. But the pants have to go. Unless you are one of those girls who wears cargo pants with skimpy tops. I'll let that one slide.

3. Popped collars. You are not a frat boy. You don't go to Dartmouth. And you are far old enough to know that polo collars belong down. Flat. Where they belong. Even worse is when you are wearing a button down shirt which doesn't have a collar made for popping.

4. Wearing pants that don't fit you. Look, I don't want to see your underwear. I didn't like it when the boys did it when I was 16, and I don't like it when the ladies do it and you're 25. Showing off the band is fine, but when the shamrock pattern of your boxers is showing, we have a problem.

So ladies, there you have it. Please understand that if Alice or I see you out in public dressing a way that puts shame to us dykes, you will be given a ticket.

What you should do on Monday

Dear Denver,

I (Alice) am not one for bossing or telling people what to do...so please make an exception...

Monday Nights are usually boring and not so much fun, but everyone few Mondays some of Denver's best Talent come out and perform in one big Queerbaret (get it, like cabaret?) and some of my nearest and dearest friends are involved with putting the show on...

This month's show is all about throwing it back to the 1920's and all the glory they were. People will be in costume (I will be there in one!) and there are prizes if you used the code word (which is Dirty Crown)...basically its gonna be awesome and you're gonna feel lame if you aren't there.

There are musicians, slam poets, drag kings, dancers and a comedian! What more could a girl want from a Monday night?

The fun starts at 8pm at Her Bar (Colfax and Washington).

It's a whopping $5, but per Her Bar standards, your first drinky drink is free.

There is gonna be some rad drink specials. (I'm talking cheap drinks)

AND rumor has it that there is going to be a real live pin up girl! (Yep, pin up girl!)

So come, get drunk, enjoy the show and maybe, just maybe, we will blog about you Tuesday.

West Virginia Thursday Night at the Zoo (Alice)

It is a rare and unusual occasion when I venture out on Thursday nights in this city.

Thursdays bring two things: 21 year olds and drama, neither of which I am particularly interested in. BUT I have a friend in town from a place that is rooted in our country's history and has more bugs than any place ever needs. And me, being adventurous, decided I could deal with going out so her vacation in Denver was exciting.

So we went to the one and only lesbo bar, where it is usually disappointing and doesn't have much to look at, people wise. But Thursday night pulled through, it was like walking into a West Virginia Cousin-Loving front yard barbeque.

(You lovely readers know how much I like lists...)

Out of all the homosexual ladies there, here are a few that stick out in my head this morning like a bad dream:

1. The spiked mullet with frosted tips lady wearing a flannel shirt and cargo shorts (I loathe cargo shorts)

2. The bad bra butch. Not only was she wearing cargo shorts and a warm up tank top (one of the slick feeling ones for basketball) but she had the least supportive bra in the history of bras on and she needed at least a little support. She also walked like a man and I am pretty sure I saw her adjust her dick.

3. The screamer. This girl is usually out and about in our community and I have had a few not-so-pleasant run-ins with her before, but this time she was particularly annoying. She was participating in one of the deck games the bar was having and she was screaming. I think it was physically impossible for her to talk. Shrill, loud and unable to decipher what she was saying...thats all she was doing. Screaming. I wanted to duct tape her mouth shut.

4. The DJ. She was magical all on her own. Plaid cargo shorts (double whammy) and had a fake affliction shirt on, it was the Walmart special version. She also needed to buy a new support system because her ladies had become one and were sagging down to her belt. Which was pulled up high because for some reason when people get older, they pull up their pants to ungodly heights

5. The walking banana cream pie. She was wearing yellow and white and looked like a banana. But a big one, that moved a lot more than a banana should. She was banana cream pie. Walking around. Pretending it was human. She was encouraging the screamer.

6. The drunk dyke couple. According to my friend from out of town, they had been there since she arrived three hours earlier, and were already drunk at that point. When we arrived at the bar they were in the same spot, same bar stools, considerably more drunk and were getting ready to sing karaoke. Magic happened need less to say. Magic. My ears bled, clear blood.

I felt like I was at the Denver Zoo, watching the animals come out for mating season. But all the sexy animals were taken, so no Tigers or Cheetahs and certainly no Pumas. Only warthogs, rhinos and lemurs.

Thursday night thank you for being everything I wanted and more. Next time I venture out on a Thursday I am going to wear my safari outfit and my shirt that says "West Virginia is for Cousins"

In other news, wish me luck, I am going to Apple today and that always ends in my spending too much money or yelling at some twat genius for saying I use PC's and thats my problem. If you know me at all, I am not a PC user and have an affinity for all things Apple.

Other advice from Woolf

2. Don't start smoking. Queers love their fags, and when you hang out with a slew of them you are destined to see cigarettes. Therefore, damn near impossible to quit. And I am doing my damndest, which just ain't good enough right now.

In other news, Alice is home finally. Too many days of playing nature girl for her. I think she's glad to be back in her natural habitat.

It has also been brought to my attention that Alice is funnier than I am. (I was already aware).

Also, readers! We know you are out there. Stop by a comment thread and say hi sometime. We'd like to know there are those of you who read this drivel.