This Beat Be Bumpin' Bumpin'

Question: If you piss yourself laughing, is it because you...

a) are old,
b) should really be doing your Kegels,
c) mustn't let any trick pound you that hard again
or
d) have been confronted with a women's drum circle in broad daylight?

Morning! I wanted to write about dykes who dress their helpless toddlers in political t-shirts, but it would seem I cannot go on until I talk about this, instead:

Lesbians and drum circles.

Happy Wednesday.

I was returning from yet another Craigslist "date" near the Space Needle when I saw the sign: Seattle Rhythm Festival! As I was reading all about it, I smacked into a tall, skinny, butch dyke wearing Tevas and cargo shorts. She had a shaved head, glasses, and one long, dangly earring. She said, "Are you going to the festival?"

Well! I wasn't going before, but now I was. Research!

LEZFACT: If you see one lesbian in public, you know that there's a hundred in the near vicinity.

I followed her.

And what did my eyes behold? How about...a thousand white, hippie-ish dykes sitting in circles and drumming?
Oh hell no. In case you don't already know this, white lesbians with bongo drums are my idea of Hell. Usually, if I hear any kind of drumming in the city, I turn around and go the opposite direction. There are a few reasons for this:

1) I hate hippies. It's like sleeping with a homeless person, except you get to hear about "what an amazing, amazing trip" they just took to the Dakota Badlands.
2) The only lesbians that like drum circles look like her: 3) I get embarrassed for my people. I know there are cliches about lesbians, but for God's sake - do you have to re-enact them like some fat lady with 6 cats and a gauzy skirt, reeking of patchouli and hopping around to bongos in the heat at the Michigan Womyn's Festival? Do you???

Please, you fucking homos! Try and give us dykes a good name! We have a hard enough time as it is. Nobody believes there are fashionable and cool lesbians because they have seen enough lesbians in drum circles to know better.

I stayed at the Seattle Rhythm Festival for 15 loooooooong minutes.

One group invited me to "join in." They meant dance.

I screamed like a horse that's been shot and ran away.

Was there any other alternative?