And because I promised...

Pussy and Make-up (A Hoop-free Post)

I consider myself a very liberal person. About three years ago I lived in a Flop House. A Flop House is the nickname I give to any place that houses more people than it should. Ours had four renters and eight strays. Our motley crew consisted of two Cajuns, a lesbian couple, one of their gay brothers, a habitual liar, a DJ, a secretary of a pest control company, an ADHD kid, his hippie friend, myself... and a fuckin' Partridge in a Pear Tree. It was crazy. I loved it for all of two months.

Eventually blow came to blow in the Flop House and I ended up moving into a house of my very own. I was ecstatic and broke. I placed ads for a roommate and prayed I wouldn't have to buy a gun. Finally my ad was answered. Thus began my strange cycle of lesbian roommates. The first girl that came to live with me was very open about her sexuality. I stated straight off that it didn't bother me, but that I wanted it noted I was "strictly dickly." She was a bossy Italian from NY who cooked things stuffed in Garlic, and not the other way around. I loved her cooking, but hated her mood swings. She stayed for two weeks, mostly locked up in her bedroom crying. One night I came home from work and she was gone. Poof. I placed another ad the next week.

The next people that moved in were a bubbly eighteen year old and her dopey boyfriend. A week after she moved in, her boyfriend moved out and her girlfriend took up residence. To say I was confused was an understatement. The girlfriend was psychotic. She gave me a whole new perspective on why guys are so leery of women. Fights would break out between the two of them and shit would go flying. I once watched a pink plastic dildo sling across the room and into a mirror. NO LIE. Another of the roomie's toys made an appearance one afternoon when her parents came over for a visit.

Her parents were extremely snobbish and proper. I had just bought Duff and was trying in vain to keep the dog from getting into trouble and myself from falling asleep in the middle of one of their horrible boat stories. Suddenly, I realized that no one was talking. They'd all taken a sudden interest in the floor instead. I got up from the couch and crossed the space of the living room. There was my dog, looking up so innocently, with half a strap-on hanging from his mouth. The roommate looked horrified. She turned to me, panic written all over her face, and demanded "Are you going to pick that up?!" It dawned on me that her parents had no idea that she had a girlfriend. The nice thing to do would have been to claim the toy and save her the mortification of explaining. But I never claim to be a "nice" person. So I picked up Duff and turned for the back door. "That's not mine," I called back to them. The last thing I heard before going outside was the gasp of her Mother.

I should probably put a disclaimer on these sort of posts huh? I figured the title alone would suffice. :)