Blog Voids, Resolutions, and Late Nights in the Office

Why is there a void of decent lesbian blogs on the internet ? I don’t understand. There are queers pouring out of the cracks of the sidewalks and I can’t seem to find more than two queer-related blogs that I’d actually read on a day-to-day basis.  I know it’s not because they’re too busy having sex. Trust me. There’s GOT to be more out there.

I do enjoy Queer Fat Femme and Lesbian Dad.

Meanwhile- K and I are doing well. It’s been a hectic couple of months, and I’ve been trying to gently push her towards writing here more.  We decided our New Year’s Resolution was going to be coined “An Orgasm a Day“. I’ll let her tell you all about how that’s going…

(meanwhile it’s 1:00am, and we’re still both at the office)

Love,

A Taste of L…

Me: “Baby, what are our plans for the rest of night?”

K: “Well, I’m going to take a bath. I’m taking the new issue of Diva in with me to see if they have any good seduction techniques. Then I’m going to get out and make the bed. Then we’ll decide if we want to buy a subscription or not.”

-D

“I’m gonna tell Facebook on you!”

Lesbians for Dummies – Part I

Ahhh, the legendary blissful lesbian relationship… Sitting side by side on a ratty couch in a free-trade coffee shop, sipping soy lattes while listening to a more-earnest-than-talented “singer/songwriter” belt out her latest ani-esque creation, before going home to your two cats (Chairman Meow and Cat woMan Do), lighting smelly candles and putting on soft Ravi Shankar music for a night of connubial bliss on your mattress on the floor, aided by your latest discreet shipment from Babes in Toyland.

Well, my poor naive baby dyke, it ain’t always so.

Lesson #1 – You might have *gasp* DOGS.

Yes, yes, I know, lesbians and cats seem part of the natural order of things – a pussy for pussies and all that. But, sometimes it doesn’t work out that way. Sometimes, canine friends will slobber/pant/grin and bound their way into your heart. And sometimes, even, that said friend will be of a breed that will chase cats, and perhaps eat them.

It can still work, I promise you, even if they up the amp on the mojo distractions.  Was your mood broken before by the subtle swish, swish of a cat attending to its needs in the litter box? Or meowing in your ear at peak moments because it wants to be petted? Now, you have to worry about your companions getting excited by the, ah, playful noises coming from your bed, and wanting to join in the game by jumping on your head – when it’s between someone’s thighs. Sixty pounds of fur and nails shoving your head into somebody’s crotch is NOT fun.

Lesson #2 – Facebook is your new mommy

You better watch what you say/do/wear, because your beloved partner WILL run and tell on you – to facebook. Social Media threatening is taken to a higher plane in lesbian relationships, able to get you to do, or get you NOT to do, a whole slew of things, just to avoid public exposure. Did you say something a little less PC than you should have – made a snarky comment about Save the Earthworm? Did you do something that could have your lesbian membership card taken away – like refusing to check your oil because it might get your hands dirty?

You, honey, will be exposed, to EVERYBODY. And if you’re really unlucky, photos & videos might be involved.

So, take heed when the love of your life threatens to post your photo because the clothes you threw on to take the dogs out make you look like, in their words, ‘an out-of-shape jazzercise instructor from the 80′s.’

They will do it. Lesbian relationships are BRUTAL.

- K

Tonight’s Rerun and a Minor Prelude

“We can’t call it a conversation between two thighs if your head is resting in my armpit…”

I retort, “I’m tired!”

Mojo Killer

Meanwhile ‘Mojo Killer’ (the satirical nickname for our male fur-child) proceeds to lick himself… there. Loudly.

She pushes him so he stops -

and continues… “Well maybe he’s trying to water it so they grow back.”

(a few moments of silence)

“…our poor emasculated dog”.

—————————-

Dear Invisible Reader,

It has come to my attention that it is time for us to introduce ourselves, or at least our mission. And yes, we are on a mission. No worries – we have no agenda of recruiting you to our dark….ahem.. dyke side. Actually, we’re assuming that if you’ve found this, you’re already on our team. If not, the recruitment papers are on the front desk. Leave your flannel at the door.

You may have noticed that we are a duo – D & K, or K & D as it may be (we do, at times, admit to being versatile).  Essentially, this means you’ll be getting posts authored by either one of us.

Recently, we’ve been growling about the lack of interesting “team blogs” by lesbian couples. If you know of any, share them with us. At any rate, here we are. I can’t promise we’ll be interesting, but hey at least it plays into our own anonymous cyber-network-laden narcissism. What I can promise are thwarting sex tales, anti-republican rants, K and I hashing out our arguments in a public forum (no lions, no shields..however perhaps the occasional.. utensil), and the ridiculous conversations which happen at the oddest of times (i.e. K’s first post) that reveal jussssst what goes on in girl-on-girl relationships these days.

Dykishly yours,

D

Conversation Between Two Thighs

“So, what do we name it?”

“What!?” I’m brought back to my body and look down to see her head raised from between my thighs. “Name what?”

“What do we name the blog?”

I stare at her for a few seconds, then glance meaningfully where her mouth had just been, reminded of a certain L Word scene (first season, before I stopped watching it, Bette/Tina/Dr’s office/attempt to inseminate).

She sighs and lowers her head. I settle back down, but now I’m distracted. My head pops up.

“I thought you liked Tales From the Dyke Side!”

“I do, I do. But.. it’s the first name we came up with. We should think of more to have a choice. Something… something else lesbian.”

We think, her chin resting on me. “Two fruits, one jungle?” she suggests.

“Eh. We’d get hits from vegetarians, or environmentalists. How about, Runs with Scissor Sisters?”

She snorts. “How about, No Flannel?”

“No Flannel and Birkenstocks,” I add. “No, the baby dykes wouldn’t get the reference. Do they even know what a Mullet is?” She shakes her head.

What about, Steam-Cleaning Carpet Munchers?” I suggest.

“Um…no.”

“Cunni-linguistics?” I ask.

“Oooh, I like that. Might be a bit much, though.”

“What about Route 69?”

“Oh please, only if we want 12 year old boys hitting our site.”

“Hmmmm…” I muse. She goes back to her former task.

“I got it!” I exclaim. “Tribe of Ism!”

“What the hell??”

“You know, Tribe of Ism, play on tribadism?”

“It’s not TRIBE, it’s TRIB, rhymes with trip. Sheesh.”

“Oh.”

She fidgets. ”Do you need a pillow?” I ask politely.

“For what?”

“To raise me up, so your neck won’t be so…”

“Oh, sure.” She grabs a pillow, shoves it under me, starts to sing, “You raise me up…”

“What is that?” I ask.

“You don’t know it? ‘You Raise Me Up?’ Josh Groban?   Only the most popular Christian Rock singer.”

“Um, are you sure that’s appropriate, in this situation?”

She laughs at my expression, then gasps, ”I got it! Conversations Between Two Thighs! Our best dialogues always seem to be happen between thighs.”

I groan.

“God, I hope my mother never sees this.”

-K-