Today I'm in Rhode Island, and the waters are rising. They've closed off the roads. We're trapped.
But no matter. The hotel wi-fi still works and I seem to have stumbled upon a basement vending machine that's been lost in time.
Do they even make Crystal Pepsi anymore?
Anyway!
As we get older, we learn common sense.
Don't run with scissors.
Don't eat crunchy pears.
Don't say "Why can't we talk about bombs?" loudly at the airport.
You know.
There's a whole bunch of rules that everybody seems to know.
But I'd like to make an addendum to the list of Common Sense Don'ts:
If you happen to knock over your prize Echinocereus reichenbachii cactus while tying back your curtains in the morning, DON'T scream, "My baby!" and dive to catch it with your bare hands.
Really don't.
CJ: (from the kitchen) What was that?
Me: Can you just get the tweezers?
As CJ lovingly tugged each cactus spine out of my poor pink palms, she began to snicker.
Me: It is not funny.
CJ: Would we call this...a caccident?
Me: Shut up.
CJ: Get it? A cactus/accident? A caccident?
Me: I am dying. Ow. Ow. You missed one.
CJ: A caccident! Ha!
Me: OW! Jesus!
CJ: You know, we're going to have to add the cactus to the list.
Ha very ha.
In our house, because CJ thinks she's so effing hilarious, there is a posted list on the fridge entitled "List of Things Krista Is Not Allowed to Touch".
This list includes, but is not limited to:
1. Knives
2. The knife drawer
3. CJ when she's using a knife
4. Light fixtures
5. The stove when dinner is happening
6. Any electrical socket that "doesn't work"
7. Any tool, of any kind, that has a plug/cord/whirly-part
8. Any tool found in CJ's studio
9. Especially any tool found in CJ's studio that's shaped like a knife
The list is way longer than that but I shan't go on.
Common sense, people.
I'm finally learning: me + sharp things = oddly disfigured fingers.
We should all use more common sense.
In all areas of our lives.
Especially in regards to gaydar.
Today's topic is simple: Trust your gut.
If you're dying to ask a girl out, and you just. don't. know. if she's gay, trust your gut. What was your first impression?
Did you think she was queer?
I'm not saying your first impression is always going to be correct. Good god, no.
Appearances can be deceiving. Don't judge a book by its cover and whatnot.
But women often give off a shit-ton of vibes about themselves just by the way they move, the way they carry themselves, and the way they look at you when they talk to you.
Hooray for vibes!
Of course, there's no single way to tell if a woman is a lesbian.
There's no single way to tell if a woman is straight, or bi, or anything else. Women don't just walk around with signs, letting you know what they're into.
But what does your gut tell you?
If, upon shaking hands with a woman, you think, "Now there's a gay lady," you're going to be right, a lot of the time.
And you're going to be wrong, lots of times.
I'm wrong about first impressions all the time. But I carry on.
And then sometimes, 10 years later, I find out I was right.
If you want to have good lesbian gaydar, you need to practice!
Labelling is fun and it pisses people off. Enjoy yourself.
Sit your ass down at the mall and watch people. Bring a friend!
Learn to listen to that hissing slutty whisper of intuition.
Our intuition is a wonderful tool! It knows!
When we become intuitive beings, we know before anyone else when we have a gay celebrity in our midst.
*Ahem*
Your intuition is the driving force behind that little nagging suspicion that Oprah is a clam-licker.
Your gut knows without having it spelled out that Pink is one of us.
Your third eye zeroed in on Missy Elliot like a laser beam.
And your 6th sense knew that nobody could be that good at "pretending" to be gay. Jack, we've known since the beginning.
A: I'm so glad you asked!
I read this amazing book by Gavin de Becker called The Gift of Fear. He explains intuition.
If you drove, then you were making hundreds of split-second decisions with life-or-death consequences. Everyone around you was, too.
If you've been driving safely for years, that means you can accurately read non-verbal signals other people are sending going 70 miles an hour across vast distances.
You're still alive, even after driving through Chicago during rush hour. You knew that lady was going to cut you off.
You have intuition.
Intuition.
Walking around a crowded bar and finding the right girls to hit on?
You can handle that. You're not even moving fast.
We all have intuition. Use it for the greater good, sluts.
Use it to get laid.
