Today's topic is no joke, everybody. It is for serious. I need to talk about Lesbian Overload.

Fact:

On Saturday night, I was in Minneapolis, and I went to a dyke function called Boobie Trap. Cute, right?

It had all the makings of a good night - it was at a leatherfag-bar called 'The Bolt', my best friend was going to perform, and I had a seriously shiny new clip-on blond ponytail, fresh from Walgreens. I couldn't wait. All day I talked about Boobie Trap - what was I gonna wear? who was dating whom? how many drinks until Mea takes her clothes off on the dance floor?

And then we got there and promptly left.

I mean, we got our I.D.s checked, we paid our money, and we walked downstairs into the club, but...

I took one look into that dimly-lit, crowded bar, and I Absolutely. Fucking. Panicked.

LESBIAN OVERLOAD!!!!!!!

There were girls everywhere! Making out against the walls! Grabbing the hot bartender's ass! Oogling the mostly-naked go-go dancers! Dancing in throbbing groups, pressing up against each other on the dance floor, shoving for drinks, fucking in the bathroom...all the things that make a lezzie-night great.

And I had to leave.

Fact: Lesbian Overload occurs when there is so much estrogen packed into a small amount of space that the air tastes faintly of sweat and vadge. Hundreds and hundreds of women, all of them hunting for springtime sex. A bitch couldn't even breathe without getting her period!

Lesbian Overload can do crazy shit to your genetic makeup. It can, among other things, give you the shakes, activate your 'flight-or-fight' survival instincts, force you to drink three Long Island iced-teas and then text your ex, or cause you to think you look good doing the Electric Slide in a sports bra. This has been documented by scientists.

Anyway! with me, when it strikes, Lesbian Overload sends an urgent message to my nerves that's a bit like this:

Brain: "Krista, these dykes are going to use up all the oxygen and then you'll DIIIIIIIEE!! Get the fuck out while you can!"

Me: But there are strippers.

Brain: "RUUUUUUUUUUUUUNN!"

I'm so disappointed in myself. I wanted to stay - one go-go dancer could put her leg all the way behind her head. Is this the beginning of something I need to take pills for?