Card Carrying Lesbian … What’s in your wallet?

Lana a.k.a Lesbian Bait

Posted on 02. Mar, 2010 by Sasha.

The other night we went out to Girl Bar, with Lana in tow. I had assured Lana several times, that she would not be mauled, attacked or hit on. I mean after all, it’s a lesbian bar and while it is a bar, we are still women. Which in my experience has meant that in general, women are usually pretty shy and don’t hit on each other without some serious body language giving the green light. And not even then most of the time!

All too often lesbian clubs remind me of those horrible 6th grade dances when all the boys would stand on one side of the gym and all the girls would line up on the opposite wall, waiting, hoping and wishing that that cute little boy that was 6 inches shorter then them would have the nerve to come over and ask them to dance.

So after multiple assurances on my part, that Lana would not be molested on her first night at a dyke bar, the ladies of West Hollywood quickly took up the challenge to make a liar out of me.

We hadn’t been there ten minutes before a girl walks up to our group, circles around, gives Lana an up and down appraisal, literally shakes her head yes, as if to say, “Yep, that’ll do!” and walked over to our group of five. I mean really, how often does a woman have the guts to approach an entire group of females just to get at one in the center?

She leaned in and yelled over the blaring music, “My friend is having a party right down the street and told me to come and find some hot women to bring over.”

We smiled, said thank you and maybe. Laughing hysterically that Lana had just been cruised mere moments after sitting down.

This type of thing happened through out the night. It was actually pretty funny watching the women circle around Lana like sharks circle fresh chum.

But nothing would make my night like what ended up happening out on the dance floor. Apparently, Lana is irresistible to older, shorter lesbians. Well, one in particular. Before we knew it, she was being man-handled by a very pushy woman.

Seeing my friend in distress I did what any good friend does, I threw my girlfriend in between them, confident that the interloper would take a hint. (more…)

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Lesbian Speed Dating

Posted on 09. Feb, 2010 by Sasha.

Okay, I have a confession. When I was single I was this close to attending a lesbian speed dating event in the desperate hopes of meeting someone, anyone that was a viable candidate for a normal date. But my ego got the best of me and I talked myself out of it. Now that I’m in a happy, secure relationship it sounds like a fun thing to do …. wait, let me explain and then you can tell me how wrong I am.

First of all, my friend Lana is single, straight and recently took a vow of “Yes.” She swore to herself that she would say “Yes” to any and all social events, given that they don’t include nudity or felonious behavior. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t blatantly exploit this situation to my amusement? No, really … I would never do anything to hurt her. But I will try to push her out of her comfort zone. Enter: Speed Dating.

I had a flash of brilliance one night, that we should take Lana to speed dating event. But we can’t very well throw her to wolves and tell her we’ll be back in an hour. So we promised her we would do it with her. Yep, Remi and I are going to pretend to be straight, single gals one of these nights to help push Lana back into the dating game.

That’s all fine and well … no harm done to unsuspecting men. I figure I’ll use my fake gypsy accent and call myself Esmerelda. I’ll be so out of my mind eccentric no man in his right man would pick me anyways. As for my lovely girlfriend, Remi, playing a straight girl? Well I don’t know how I’ll hold back the laughter and will seriously wonder if  any man there will buy it or are they really that blind, dumb and horny that a girl that looks that gay would ever really want to date them?

Okay, so maybe lying to a room full of men about ourselves is forgivable …. and then again, maybe it’s not but I’m still going to do it. The real question is how horrible would it be if we do the same thing at a Lesbian Speed Dating Event? With Lana in tow as an honorary lesbian for the night? I mean hey, we’ve already brought up the possibility of opening up our relationship for Dinah Shore. Maybe this could be a test run?

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Open Relationships @ Dinah Shore: Yay or Nay?

Posted on 06. Feb, 2010 by Sasha.

The count down to Dinah Shore has officially began in our house. We even ran out to Targay and bought some free weights to buff up in time for all those crazy pool parties. For those of you living under a rock, Dinah Shore is the biggest lesbian, spring break, orgy in the world, and this will be my very first time in attendance.

While I always swore that when I finally did go to Dinah it would be first class all the way, I never planned on being in a serious relationship for my maiden voyage into the lesbian seas of Dinah Shore. But as fate would have it, I am. While we are staying at one of the host hotels, the Renaissance, for the four days of excess and indulgence, we are still in a committed relationship. Therein lies the rub: What’s the point in going to a lesbian spring break when I can’t indulge in a simple little fling here and there?

Remi and I have toyed with the idea of opening up our relationship a little bit for Dinah. I know, I know, I can hear the groans from here! Our closest friends have advised against this bone head move. But I can’t help myself, I want to have the “Dinah Shore experience” as cheesy as that sounds, I really think being able to make out with random, hot women in the elevator or pool is a key point in making that happen.

We keep going back and forth about this. One week, we’re feeling super lovey-dovey and the thought of even looking at another girl seems wrong. But then there are those days when we’re fighting or just not feeling overly romantic and the idea of a little healthy flirting doesn’t sound so evil. I hate to admit it, but sometimes, we feel more like best friends then lovers. It’s those times that I think our relationship could stand a little healthy jealousy to jump start the passion. When better then at a lesbian smorgasbord of such magnitude as Dinah Shore?

If we do this, there will be strict rules. Like no one comes back to the room. No actual sex. No one we know in our real lives. You know, stuff like that. But above all else, we’ve sworn not to be another Dinah Shore casualty. I am well aware of the countless relationships that have fallen by the wayside during this week of debauchery and I refuse to add my name to that list of heart broken women that were swayed away from their loves by the sirens of the White Party.

But here’s where you come in.  Any and all advice, shared experiences or just all out ranting about opening one’s relationship for a limited time only, please don’t hold back. I want to hear from you!

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Lesbian Dinner Parties

Posted on 20. Aug, 2009 by Sasha.

Not too long ago one of my best friends, Maggie bought herself a brand new dining room set. One of the fun things about being in your twenties is having little firsts that make you feel like a grown up. For her, this was one of them.

I was honored when she called me to tell me that she wanted me and Remi to be some of the first people she entertained at her place, on said new table. I believe her exact words were, “Remember that talk we had about bein’ all growed up and wanting to have dinner parties?  Well, I’m makin’ it happen betch.  I got us a big girl table.”

I am not exaggerating when I tell you that between two organizational freaks like Maggie and I, we literally planned this about a month and a half in advance. Well, she planned it but I helped with picking the date and bringing the perfect cheesecake. Which was no easy feat.

Our girlfriends however had the luxury of just being told when and where. As usual.

Lesbian dinner parties can go one of two ways. Horribly wrong or amazingly right. Thankfully Maggie’s was a hit. My girlfriend Remi was a little nervous, because my friends and her friends are drastically different. I can always tell that Remi doesn’t know what to talk about when I see that almost frantic look on her face as she searches the room for inspiration about something, anything to talk about with Maggie.

But to Maggie’s credit (and it is a credit) she can be a little intimidating. The very first night I met Remi, we were out on the patio at a club just about to kiss when Maggie strolled out, literally put her arms out and physically separated us, asking, “What’s going on here?”

She then leaned in and not to quietly asked me, “What is going on with you and all these butch women lately? Is this some sort of phase?” (more…)

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“It’s good to be pretty.” ~ Saint Maggie

Posted on 08. Jun, 2009 by Sasha.

Rather recently, Maggie invited me out to lunch so that we could catch up, sans girlfriends. We both adore our loves, but every once in a while old friends need some quality time alone. So we headed off to this chic little place in Seal Beach. It’s one of those cozy little beach cafe’s, that’s so comfortable in it’s own skin, it has a natural elegance to it. It’s a favorite among locals and as it turns out, locals in that area tend to be celebrities and just your run of the mill multimillionaires.

Before leaving that day, Remi left me some extra cash since we both know that Maggie’s tastes run on the expensive side and since she picked the restaurant it was likely to be a pricey lunch date. That and the fact that we needed reservations for a Saturday afternoon add on the fact that Maggie actually said, “Well you know how these posh places can be” and I gratefully accepted the handout from my gainfully employed girlfriend.


I met up with Maggie at her place. She was having car trouble that weekend, so poor baby … got to drive around in one of her fathers cars …. a big black Lexus. Perfect, she could drive!


About 20 minutes later we stroll into this little cafe and are shown to our table that has one of those little “reserved” cards on it. I look over the menu and to my surprise things weren’t as expensive as I had expected. So we order and we start off with a couple peach bellinis.

The more bellinis we drink the more truth comes rolling out and we ended up clearing up a lot of rumors and misunderstandings over some old crap. Surprise surprise, there are women out there that basically hate me for no good reason, rumors and misconceptions. The only part that almost sucked about that was that at one point I thought they were my best friends.

As it turns out, Maggie was and is the only one out of that whole group that stuck by me and really matters. So if I had to go through that to come out with her as my friend then I would do it again a hundred times.

I was talking too much to eat much of my food but I wasn’t talking too much to drink. So the bellinis kept coming.

At some point our server came over to us and said, “Ladies, that gentleman over there just bought your lunch.” She moved aside so that we could see an older man, sitting by himself, smiling at us from across the way.

Maggie and I looked at each other and then at him and thanked him. He seemed like he was lonely but he was also a little creepy so we just smiled at him a few times throughout the remainder of our meal.  As if just our acknowledgment of him was repayment enough.

Obviously it was because our server came back and informed us that our benefactor wanted to make sure we had all we wanted to drink and desert if we so desired.

So the bellinis kept coming. Notice a pattern here?

By the end of lunch I was a bit tipsy. The generous old man overheard a few juicy parts of our conversation and tried to jump in here and there. Maggie’s a pro at dealing with things like this, so I let her. She would smile, say a few words and then somehow, deftly just cut it off and come back to our private conversation.

I suck at stuff like that, if I had been alone I would have ended up feeling bad for him and inviting him to eat at my table. No doubt followed by unwanted advances that would have led to an even more uncomfortable scene. But thankfully, Maggie knows how to cut men off at the knees and somehow leave them thanking her for doing so.

The difference between Maggie and myself is that she isn’t afflicted with needles guilt like I am. She knows she’s beautiful and she knows people are happy to buy her things simply for that fact … and believe me they do.

After our admirer left, our server came back over and told us that our bill was almost $200. Wow expensive lunch after all.

But at some point she showed him the bill to make sure he wasn’t going to get upset and instead he just insisted that we have more to drink or whatever else we wanted.

I just remember Maggie leaning in and whispering to me. “It’s good to be pretty.”

Apparently.

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Wet T-Shirt Contest

Posted on 27. May, 2009 by Sasha.

Actual boobs that won the contest Sorry, Remi wouldn't let me post any other pics.

A few Friday’s ago (right before Pride) Remi and I met up with some friends at Ripples for the usual: drinking, dancing, and over-all catching up. It was the first time I was meeting one of her good friends from her Marine days, who I will call Little R. Because she’s this cute as a button little girl who you can’t really believe was a Marine. But she’s cool as hell and I see many fun times together in the future.

Little R brought her straight yet bi-curious aunt along and we met up with our dear friend Sergio, who is one of the gayest boys you will ever meet. The night was going fine, no major drama until a butch woman with a clip board comes up to our little circle of people and asks “Anyone want to do the wet t-shirt contest?” Although she asked if anyone wanted to do it, she seemed to only be asking my breasts, which I’ll admit were trying their best to escape from the torn tank top I had worn that night.

I’d been talking forever about wanting to do a wet t-shirt contest but never really had the guts to do it. But here was my shot. I looked at Remi to see if she was going to stop me from putting my name down on the list, but no such luck. So I signed up and immediately felt like I was going to throw up.

About an hour later they made the call for all the girls who had signed that dreaded clipboard to follow the same butch chick that recruited us to a dingy back room. Once back there we were all thrown tiny little white tank tops, told to take our bras off and get ready.

Little R was being awesome and signed up with me, so at least I had her to calm me down back stage. As we were getting ready one of the women said to me, “Oh what are you a ringer? Do you do this professionally or what?”

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

A few women also accused me of having fake boobs and a few others actually said, “Oh hell no I’m not competing against those.” While comments like that were catty and actually pretty bitchy, I’d be lying if I didn’t say it was a confidence booster.

We eventually made our way out to a screaming crowd of women waiting to be entertained by dancing women in wet shirts.

I was first up. Oh yay.

I couldn’t really hear the music that well over the crowd but I did my best to shimmy and shake what my mama gave me while I was up.

I cheered as loud as I could for all the other ladies, especially Little R. Danced with the girls standing next to me and generally was a pretty good sport considering I standing there soaking wet from head to toe in wet jeans, heels and a see through tank top.

In the end it came down to a tie between three of us, so we were all called back up on stage to prance around and do our imitation of sexy women for a few more minutes. I did my best to have fun and enjoy my moment of humiliation.

After we had all had our turn the crowd cheered for their favorite and low and behold, I was called as the winner!

I was totally stoked for several reasons:

First of all, I knew that Remi didn’t think I would actually go through with it.
Secondly and most importantly it was a $100 cash prize for winning and I’d be lying if I said I couldn’t use the money, honey.

I think Ripples is having a booty bounce contest one of these Friday’s …… mmmmmm ……..

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The Showdown at Hamburger Mary’s

Posted on 20. May, 2009 by Sasha.

I was really over Pride by the time we got home. My back was killing me, my head hurt and I felt irritable to say the least. But Remi had been drinking all day and the last thing I  was going to do was send my drunk girlfriend out to a Pride after-party without me. So I sucked it up and went with.

We knew parking would be a bitch so we circled around surrounding area praying to the parking gods for a lucky spot. It worked and we found a spot a block away. But just as we crossed the street, Remi remembered she had left her cell in the car. So I stood there on the corner as she jogged back. As I was waiting for her I realized that the car I was standing in front of looked just like Mr.’s car.

No freakin’ way. What were the odds? I looked in the windows to see if there was any tell-tell sign that it really was her car, but no such luck. By now Remi was running back across the street and I decided it was pointless to tell her that this may or may not be the dreaded ex’s car.

By the time we got to Hamburger Mary’s there was a line around the block. Half of our friend’s were eating over at Roscoe’s and the two drunkest of our group was supposed to be saving our spots in line. Here’s some free advice: never send the two most fucked up people in your group to do the most important job. It never works out.

As we were looking for our friends in line a huge fight broke out inside the parking lot (which was fenced off for the party). Everyone was standing on tip toe, climbing up on the fence or into trees to try to get a better look. I was scanning the crowd for our friends when I saw my ex, Mr. jumping up on the fence as one of the spectators.

My heart jumped into my throat. But not because I was happy to see her. I knew this would be trouble. Should I point her out to Remi? Did she see me already? Should I just act like I didn’t see her and keep my mouth shut, hoping we didn’t run into her later?

As soon as Remi made her way back to me through the crowd I blurted out, “Mr.’s here.”

“Where?”

I pointed her out, Remi smiled and said, “This should be fun.”

The line to Hamburger Mary’s was at a standstill due to the fight, which led to the cops being called and fire truck. Apparently some flamers needed to be put out.

So this left Remi, myself and two of our friends standing in line behind Mr. for about an hour. Thank God, there were enough people between us that I don’t think Mr. saw us. But that would all change once we got inside.

We had finally made it inside and although it was an indoor/outdoor party, I didn’t want to be outdoors any more. I had enough of that while standing in line. So I made up the excuse that I had to find the little girls room just to get inside. But Remi was not about to let me out of her sight.

“I’m fine. I’ll be right back.” I insisted.

“Hell no, you know who’s here and I do too. You are not going anywhere by yourself tonight. I’m coming with you.” was Remi’s understandable response concerning recent events.

So we made our way in and through the pulsing crowd of happy Pride revelers. The music was pounding, it was jammed packed and difficult to cut a path through the party goers. Remi had my hand and was leading me through the crowd when I kid you not, someone hit the slow motion button on my life. The crowd parted and Mr. walks right towards us, makes eye contact first with Remi then with me and back to Remi and says nonchalantly, “Hey guys, what’s up?”

I didn’t say a word and tried not to show any expression one way or the other. Remi simply smirked and they locked eyes in a contest of “who could give a smugger look.”

I couldn’t believe it. All this time and all the trash that had been whispered in my ear from both sides and when we finally come face to face, Mr. says, “What’s up guys?”

Really? Is that all she had to say?

There’s a lot of bad blood between Remi and Mr. They had only met once before and that was more then a little antagonistic. Of course at the time I was dating both of them at the same time and was kissing Remi at Ripples when Mr. walked up.

But since then a lot had transpired to make both women feel like they had a legitimate grudge against one another. If for no other reason now other then they rubbed one another the wrong way.

There were a few more random sightings of Mr. throughout the night. At one point we were dancing a few feet away from her and her very tall date. Another time we saw her smoking on the patio and decided to avoid the drama and go out the other way.

But it wasn’t long until we were going through a doorway when Remi and Mr. came face to face again. Mr. smirked again, like she’s so good at doing and Remi, having had a few beers and growing tired of it, shoulder checked Mr. pretty hard as they passed by one another.

Mr. then bumped into me pretty hard and said once again, “Hey, what’s up?” so casually I was actually confused.

The last time I heard from her a week prior and she told me “Fuck you bitch fucking go to hell!” So I pretty much assumed she hated my guts at this point. She has also said, on several occasions that she’d love nothing more then to beat down my girlfriend and put her in her place. Or something to that effect.

(To be fair, I should make it clear that both women have expressed similar feelings towards one another.)

The night was winding down and most of our friends had left for the evening to care for the overly drunk in our crew. Leaving behind myself, Remi and Little R. I hadn’t had so much as a sip of alcohol all day which was a good thing since Remi and Little R were having plenty for all of us.

We were about ready to leave when we saw Mr. and her date doing the same. I thought we should hang back and wait a little bit, since remember as fate would have it Mr. and Remi ended up parking right across from one another. Not one to back down from any possible confrontation and Remi insisted that we go when we had wanted to go, not changing any plans for Mr.

Mr. and her date were just crossing the street to our side when Remi shouts out to her, “Ohhhhhhh shit, look at this, It’s Mr.” and laughs out loud in a way that sounded more like a challenge then anything.

A few words were exchanged as we passed each other on the sidewalk  but Mr. waited till we were well out of striking distance before she started her trash talking.

While we may have been out of striking distance, we were not out of ear shot.

Remi heard this and took it as her opening to unleash on Mr. (more…)

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A Low Key Pride

Posted on 19. May, 2009 by Sasha.

Friday night was OC Pride at Knott’s Berry Farm. It was put on by the same lesbian that puts on Gay Days at Disneyland. So we were expecting a pretty big crowd. Unfortunately, the turn out was less then overwhelming. Although all that did show up were in a very gay mood and it was nice not to have to stand in long lines to get on the rides. All in all, it was a lot of fun. We drank in the parking lot, went on rides drunk (oh so very bad of an idea) and danced a little. It was a very relaxing evening with the girlfriend. A good way to kick off Pride weekend.

Anyways, the real fun was bound to happen the next day in Long Beach.

So I didn’t wake up so much bright and early Saturday morning as late and hungover from that bottle of rum I downed right before hitting up the roller coasters. Ughhh. Not to mention that it just happened to be “that time of the month” that day, so yay for me! Hungover, with cramps and a backache. Perfect.

But I was bound and determined not to let anything ruin our first Pride together, so I downed a massive amount of Midol, pepto-bismol and aspirin. And off we went ……

First up, we met up with some of Remi’s Marine corp friends. Who I always get along with. With the exception of this one guy her best friend keeps bringing along. Who I hear is a great person when he’s not drunk. However when he is drunk he’s so obnoxious I’ve almost had to hit him several times now. So obnoxious drunk dude in tow, check.

A few minutes later, my friend Maggie and her girl “A” show up. Yay for me but “Uh oh, this should be interesting to see how my friends get along with her friends.”

This was actually a topic of conversation between Remi and I. Remi was concerned that her friends might seem a bit rowdy to my friends. I wasn’t too worried. I know Maggie can seem a little reserved at times, but I also know she has a sense of humor and wouldn’t take anything too seriously. However, Remi was convinced that Maggie would not get along with her group.

However, Maggie was cool as hell (like I knew she would be) and no one threw any daggers at each other. That does not mean that it went particularly smoothly either. The two groups while cordial to one another, were not exactly on the same page for what they wanted to do that day. Which left Remi and I wishing we could clone ourselves so we could be with both groups simultaneously.

What ended up happening was we tried our best all day to split our time between both groups of friends. All the while worrying about the other group that we were neglecting. Combine the stress of trying to spend enough time with everyone with me feeling like absolute crap and the fact that I wasn’t drinking that day (which in retrospect may not have been the best day to quit drinking) and Remi and I started to act bitchy to one another. Not exactly the Pride we had planned.

We didn’t see any of my ex’s that day at the festival. But we did however get to see one of Maggie’s. Which was awesome, since she clearly saw us a few feet away and decided the best plan of action was to hide from us. Or at least try. It was entertaining.

We left the festival around 9:00 that night, headed home to change and get ready to meet up with everybody at Hamburger Mary’s that night. I almost didn’t go, but thank God I did, since apparently the Pride Gods were saving the “Ex Drama” for the cover of night.

This blog is getting uncomfortably long but the next one you’ll want to read. Especially since we run into Mr. and things get blog worthy real quick.

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Incommunicado for the cause

Posted on 15. May, 2009 by Sasha.

I’m going on a covert mission to gather as much blog worthy, torrid, lesbian, lust filled stories as possible so that I may come back here and tell you all about it! Just for you, I’m willing to drink like a sailor, dance with strange women, show inappropriate affection with my gf that any other time would get us arrested, and basically go buck wild this weekend …. all for you.

Yep, I’m willing to make the sacrifice of trying my hardest to have the best Pride ever!

So don’t expect to hear from me for a few days. It’s hard to blog incommunicado … and by incommunicado I mean drunk.

PS: You may be wondering what a picture of Jennifer Garner had to do with this blog. Follow my logic: I was looking for a picture of a secret agent girl, you know, for the under cover theme. – Jennifer Garner starred in my favorite TV series ever, ALIAS as a secret agent. – Plus she’s just too hot to me. – You’re welcome.

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On the Itinerary: Party our asses off

Posted on 14. May, 2009 by Sasha.

So just in case you missed it, I’m going to reiterate on this blog and provide links to all the fun places we’re going this weekend. Why? Because the more the merrier and it’s good to support GLBT events.

I’m also posting any links to other Pride events just to keep you in the know:

This Friday, May 15: I will be at OC Pride which is being held at Knott’s Berry Farm. They’ve bought out the entire park just for us homos so we can relax, be ourselves and not worry that we’re traumatizing some little kid from Arkansas.

Also Friday, May 15: For those who don’t want to part with the $42 admission price to get into Knott’s there is going to be a Pink Party in Downtown Long Beach from 7 – 11 p.m. and I believe that’s free. Free is always good.

Saturday and Sunday May 16 – 17: Is Long Beach Pride. It’s held at Shoreline Village and seems to be more of the lesbian scene than Hollywood Pride which is geared more towards the boys.

Hamburger Mary’s is having a parking lot party for Pride with cheap food and beer and it’s walking distance from the festival.

Ripples is having a bunch of Pride events happening and I heard they’re providing a shuttle to and from the festival, for free during Pride! So check that out.

What about the after parties? Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered.

The ladies of Girl Bar are putting on an after party Sunday night at V20 in the Bambou Lounge in Long Beach. Cover will be $15 or $10 VIP.

There will also be an after parties at Executive Suite and Ripples. But it’s going to be a mixed crowd at both places, so if you’re looking for a strictly estrogen filled evening, V20 might be a safer bet.

If I’ve missed any place, and I’m sure I have, please feel free to leave a link in the comments. I just want everyone to have a very Happy Pride!!!! Whoooohoooooo!!!!!!

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Who Owns the Abbey?

Posted on 11. May, 2009 by Sasha.

I got a comment from a reader, LB_Boi that read,

Hey Sasha,
Hope you’re ok. I’m sick of going to the Abbey because of guys like that. They are just plain rude. Someone once told me that the reason they are there is because they are investors, which makes their behavior even more disgusting.

The same thing happens over at Club HERE too and it’s such a pain to deal with. It’s too bad the behavior of some ruins our nights out.

Hopefully you won’t have that issue at Pride this weekend, LOL

OK, this totally makes sense because the ass wipe that groped me was there with a bunch of other pricks that were all sitting in a VIP booth like little kings. And to top it off this all happened only feet away from a huge bouncer that saw the whole thing and just turned a blind eye to it.

If the Abbey really is owned by guys like this, I want to know because I don’t feel like putting any money in their pockets after being treated like that. Especially since I’ve received a few private emails from other women who have had similar experiences there.

Does anyone know anything about the owners or investors of the Abbey? Please post in the comments section if you do. I’m really curious now.

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The Abbey: Part deux

Posted on 11. May, 2009 by Sasha.

Sorry to leave you in suspense for so long, lol … but here’s the rest of the Abbey debacle.

Remi continued to ream me in front of her best friend, which was uncomfortable for both of us. I swear if Amazon’s head could have turned any further away from the table, the Exorcist would have been jealous. You know, when your friends are being jack asses and acting out in public in ways that they should only ever act behind closed doors, and the only way you can give them the illusion of privacy is to try not to look. Yea, it was that bad.

So instead of just telling her what happened, I said, “Nothing.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, I can clearly see a fingernail scratch on your face! WTF happened?!!!!” was of course, her response to my outright lie.

So this whole mature scene played out for a few more minutes of her yelling at me, demanding to know the whole story. While I felt more and more attacked and embarrassed so of course, I stuck with my story.

I swear, my tombstone will read: THAT’S MY STORY AND I’M STICKING TO IT.

My stubbornness in the face of being caught in so blatant a lie managed to piss my gf off to no end. We drove home in almost complete silence. The icy atmosphere only being broken up by her demanding to know what happened. But my migraine had kicked into full gear and there was no way in hell I was getting pulled into an all nighter. So I stood my ground.

It wasn’t until the next morning, about 5 minutes before she had to leave for work that I broke down and told her what happened.

But was she happy or satisfied? Yea right.

Now she just had even more to be aggravated with me over.

For one thing, I lied to her. For another, she was pissed I didn’t tell her when she would have had a chance to do something. Lastly, I lied to her. Did I say that already? Oh yea I did, but I thought it bared repeating since this was what had her stuck on repeat for the rest of the day.

I however didn’t see it as a “lie” per say, but more as a timing issue.

To me, a lie is when you have no intention of telling her the truth. But that’s not what happened. I had totally planned on telling her everything, I was just waiting for the right time. I think it was more like strategically timed truth telling. The “lie” she was so upset over was more like a diversion till the truth made an appearance.

Anyways, the long and the short of it was we fought all day long via text messages and then when she got home we had to go sit in the car and continue our argument because any yelling upsets my dogs too much.

We never really came to a conclusion. More of a standstill.

I think she deserved to be temporarily mislead for several reasons and she thinks I have a habit of “lying” to her when bad things happen and only telling her the whole story days later.

So we agreed to disagree and just move on. There comes a time when you just have to let things go and we’re actually getting pretty good at it.

In the long run I guess I’ll tell her if something like that happens again just to save myself the aggravation. But after reading some of the comments I doubt it will, since she’s not likely to let me out of her sight for a while now.

PS: LB PRIDE is coming up this weekend …. you all better be there!

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Drawing Blood at the Abbey

Posted on 05. May, 2009 by Sasha.

Saturday night, Remi and I met up with our good friends, Amazon and Alexa at the Abbey. I haven’t seen the Abbey that packed in … well … ever. It was a madhouse and the crowd was a good trail mix of gay boys, femmes, butches, trannies, lesbians and straight tourists.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not straight-a-phobic. Some of my best friends are straight men. But call me crazy, when I go out to a gay bar in gay WeHo with my gay lover Cindy and our lesbian friends, I don’t appreciate being groped, stalked and grabbed by straight or bi-curios men. Which seemed to be the theme of the evening.

I know I’ve been down this repetitive road before. Yes, maybe I don’t have short hair spiked up into a faux hawk, I wasn’t wearing a cool fedora and a man’s blazer and unfortunately I wasn’t wearing my DYKE tattoo on my forehead. But I would think that the setting, combined with WHO I was there with, holding hands with, and kissing would be some sort of sign that I don’t drive stick.

Yet a random medley of ass hole men still thought I was fair game.

At one point in the evening, Remi and I had gotten into a little tiff and instead of going with her and her bff across the street to grab some munchies, I stayed put by my lonesome to stand in line for the ladies room. On my way to the back of the club I was grabbed again by one of my evening’s stalkers. He was so drunk or just such a big ass that he actually grabbed me and tried to kiss me! When I pushed him off of me and into an innocent group of twinks, he lunged back at me and grabbed my face. By this point I was till off balance from slipping on spilled drinks in four inch heels and trying not to fall down the few stairs that I was teetering on. It was so crowded the only thing I could think of was to go for the groin. So although that is my least favorite area of the male anatomy, I gave it a good slap with the palm of my hand and watched as the pain and shock rippled through him. He immediately let me go and I took off for the bathroom where I found one of Alexa standing in line.

But do I tell her what just happened? No. Of course not. Why? Because my friends are like me, and if someone bothers one of my friends, I want to hunt them down. So I just let it go.

But then I saw the idiot with a group of his friends coming up on the other side of the line so I made some lame excuse to my friend and got out of there. I just didn’t want to deal with it anymore. I was getting a migraine, I was sort of mad at Remi and knew she was mad at me. I was quickly getting over the whole evening and just wanted to go home.

I made it across the street to where Remi and her friend were having a burger. I had calmed down enough to tell her what had just happened but wasn’t sure if I should just wait till we were in the car. Because first of all, I know for a fact that she and Amazon would want me to go back and point him out. I didn’t want a confrontation that night. Not that our group of female Marines couldn’t totally fuck up his group of bougie posers. That wasn’t the point. I just wanted to go home.

But by the time I sat down, Remi was already pissed at me for having run off by myself and then she looks at me in the bright lights of the burger joint and says, “What the FUCK is on your face?”

“What?!” I really had no idea what was on my face.

“That!” she said as she pointed above my lip. I searched Amazon’s face for some answers or a hint and it was obvious that she too saw whatever had Remi seeing red.

“What?!” I asked again.

“That! That’s blood! There’s a scratch on your face and it’s bleeding. WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?!”

Great. So much for waiting for the right moment to tell her ….

——-to be continued—–

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To Ink or not to Ink

Posted on 12. Mar, 2009 by Sasha.

So it wasn’t that long ago that tattoos were considered taboo, counter culture, biker-ish, or just plain skanky (but only when on an actual skank).

But those days are long gone and it’s harder to find a girl without ink then it is to find one with. Even my gf has a few and I love them. Not to mention that in my experience, lesbians seem to be some of the most tatted up women around.

Why is that? Mmmm …. I see a future blog coming soon all about the pathology behind lesbians and their tattoos. But that’s another blog.

As for this blog: I want your honest opinion.

I don’t have a single tattoo or a single piercing. I mean zip. Zero. Nada. I don’t even have my ears pierced! Totally virgin skin which is the only virginistic thing about me.

But lately I’ve been considering taking the plunge.

Here are my two favorites.

I know, I know ….. why so big for your first tattoo?

Because when I do something, I really REALLY do it. I’m kind of an all or nothing kinda gal, so why should this be any different?

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First Night Out in a While …. Oh boy

Posted on 25. Jan, 2009 by Sasha.

A few of you asked me to re-post this so here it is. This is the previously deleted post that I took down because a reader left a scathing comment. Usually I have pretty thick skin but I guess I didn’t yesterday. But thanks to some of your comments I feel a little better so I’ve re-posted in an attempt to stay true to what I like to do, which is be painfully honest about the highs and lows. This was a low. So be it. I’m not only NOT perfect, I’m pretty fucked up sometimes. I know this. Remi knows this. I’ve apologized to her for the evening and she forgave me, so that’s all that matters.

So tonight was the first night that Remi and I have been out since she got discharged from the Marine Corps. But before we get to WeHo let’s back up a bit. (more…)

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Response to Jen’s Comment

Posted on 05. Jan, 2009 by Sasha.

Jen wrote in, “This is really funny to me. I think I was one of the first girls you ever dated. I remember going out with you and we NEVER went home alone. We always had our pick of playthings to take home with us. I can’t believe you’ve closed your bedroom doors to the masses. Wow. She must really be some catch.”

OK just to set the record straight with a comment left by Jen. The doors to my bedroom were NEVER open to the masses. But dating you was definitely an experience in itself. I seem to remember a night when you ended up picking up a group of Aussies.

You left me in the living room with a room full of horny idiots and I didn’t see you again until you came out wrapped in a sheet and told me that your “plaything” wanted me to join you guys. I’m sure you remember the dirty look I shot you as I told you to get your clothes on so we could go.

Yep. Nothing like dating a chick that sleeps with other people right in front of you. Thanks Jen. I think you’re part of the reason I’m no longer attracted to femmes.

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Desert Dykes: The other white meat.

Posted on 26. Oct, 2008 by Sasha.

Due to a family emergency (which would be the fact that my brother’s an idiot) I ended up in Palm Springs. After helping him out I called a friend that I had met the last time I was in the desert.

Her name is Joe (her real name at her request). I met Joe and a group of her friends right outside a gay bar in downtown Palm Springs. I hadn’t yet been “made” Remi’s girlfriend so I was officially still single.

Joe and her friends are a cool group of butch women that are very generous with the drinks and eventually that led to me to entering a lap dance contest where I tied for first place with a trannie that I’m pretty sure was way hotter than I.

After the club closed and we were thrown out onto the hot streets of the desert, we made our way to Joe’s house.

Joe’s house has a pool.
Joe’s house has a lot of free alchohol.
Joe’s house does not have extra bikini’s lying around.
Joe’s house ended up with a bunch of naked lesbians skinnydipping in between drinks.

So of course when I found myself in need of a place to crash for a night, I called Joe. She was more than happy to have a house guest and made me feel right at home. She invited over a bunch of crazy friends for a night of BBQ and drinking, including a crazy woman that claims to be a professional bikini waxer.

She waxed a few girls that evening, but she wasn’t able to catch me and tie me down, so I escaped her drunk waxing technique … thank god. At one point I actually considered it, I mean “Hey, a free bikini wax? Why not?”

But then she winked at me and said, “You’re next hot stuff.”

Hot stuff? I am not a hot pocket that just got nooked. Nor am I fond of having strange, drunk women playing with hot wax near my hoo hoo. Especially not after I heard her tell a few girls, “I love my job. I get to see if a girl’s worth the trouble before I ever spend a dime on her. And she pays me to do it!”

Eeeewww. I hate it when women are predatory. I guess I’m just an elitist but I like to think that we, as a gender are slightly above that. I don’t like it when women prove me wrong.

My night at Joe’s this time ended pretty much like the last time except this time I brought a bikini. But I did notice that desert dykes seem to party harder than their LA counterparts. I think it’s because there’s a real lack of lesbian nightclubs out there. There’s a huge gay boy population but from what I could tell, the ladies are sadly under-represented.

So house parties end up being the cure and without bouncers and lame-ass laws to be obeyed, these girls really get down and dirty when it comes to play time.

Whew! I think I’m going to need a few days to recover! But in the end I had a pretty wild time and Joe was nice enough to drive me back to LA the next day … again.

God, I fucking love lesbians!! We’re always down for a good time and always up to help one another out. Whether it’s offering up your couch for the night, or a free, albeit scary bikini waxing offer … we always seem to be able to help each other out.

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Thank God I drive a Caddy

Posted on 19. Oct, 2008 by Sasha.

I’d just like to say, for the record that my girlfriend is no longer wondering why we don’t have sex more often. In fact, she had to stay home tonight to catch up on her sleep. Not that I blame her, I didn’t let her put her clothes back on till that weird guy with a flashlight on his head walked by my car at 6:00 a.m. this morning.

But who needs sleep when you can have sex till the wee hours of the morning?

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How I met Taylor: The Bi-curious school teacher

Posted on 20. Jul, 2008 by Sasha.

Last week I couldn’t sleep due to an overwhelming urge for a Butterfinger candy bar. So around midnight I made my way down my block to my corner 7 11. As I walked in I immediately noticed this super hot chick surrounded by 3 guys. Obviously I had walked in on the end of a conversation because I heard one of the guys say, “We’d be happy to help you move in tonight. Just tell us where you live and we’ll be right over.”

As if on queue she looked right at me and said rather loudly, “Oh that’s okay, my girlfriend is going to help me. Right?”

I hesitated for a split second but I love a damsel in distress so I quickly answered, “ Oh yea. Don’t worry about it boys. We’ve got it covered.” The group of testosterone laden men parted and let my new best friend out from within their circle. She hooked arms with me as if we were long lost besties and after I bought my much sought after candy bar we walked out together.

Once out of ear shot of the still lurking group of men she thanked me profusely for getting her out of a sticky situation. By the time I assured her it was my pleasure we had walked a few more feet and she stood there pointing at a little townhouse behind my shoulder with the lights on.

“That’s my place.” She said. “Want to come in for a second? I mean you don’t have to but I don’t know anyone here and it’s the least I can do for what you did. Offer you a drink I mean. I have wine and vodka. Come on, please.”

She was rambling on and on and I thought it was cute. She seemed harmless enough and she only lived a block away from me. What could happen? So I obliged and went in for a drink with my new friend.

After a drink and some small talk in her living room I looked around and noticed she was indeed, in the middle of moving in. Boxes everywhere. Furniture in disarray. We were sitting on her couch when she asked, “Would you help me move this? Please? I hate it where it is and I think it would look so much better over there.”

Several drinks and several hours later, her couch had been in every possible position she could think of to put it in. Including several end tables and boxes. I’m sure I would have noticed that I had hurt my back if I was so liquored up. But it was kind of fun in a weird, move some hot stranger chick’s furniture around when you’re drunk way.

During the move she mentioned something about an ex-boyfriend. So the little thought bubble over my head read, “Of course she’s straight.”

Later when she asked me to show her around the LA nightlife I sort of hummmed and hawed for a second since I haven’t been to a straight club in ages. Finally I said, “Well, I’m not sure you’d like the kind of clubs I go to.”

Her curiosity peaked she wouldn’t let it go. After explaining to her that I only go to lesbian and gay clubs her eyes lit up and the 20 questions began coming at me in record speed.

Okay. She was definitely curious about the lesbian lifestyle. I’m open, so I answered all her questions. Even some really personal sexual questions. But I noticed the time and the sun would be up soon, so I had to go.

So began my friendship with the bi-curious school teacher. I have lots more to tell you about her. But first you had to know how I met her. For the blog I’ll call her Taylor. Check back soon to see what complicated, twisted thing she does and claims she did it all for me. Ha! I’ve heard that before. Wait. I’ve said that before. But that’s not the point!

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Ripples, Ex’s Ex’s and Lap Dances

Posted on 11. Jul, 2008 by Sasha.

Last Friday I decided to celebrate our country’s independence by taking two of my closest, newly single gal pals to Ripples (Deborah’s on Fridays) to get trashed and lucky if we were lucky. Let me just say that nothing quite kicks off an evening of getting over your ex quite the same way as walking into a bar and within 5 minutes seeing two of your former flames with their new loves and then finding out that your most recent ex is en route to said bar.

Granted, I knew my ex was coming, we were never really together so we’re not really ex’s and we’re currently doing the whole friend thing again. But in my book, anyone that you used to sleep with but no longer do is an ex of some sort. So there.

Things only got better when my most recent ex-something or other showed up, friends in tow. Only to have my friends and her friends, not exactly meld into beautiful harmonies of “We are the world.” Nope. My friends are quickly gaining a well deserved reputation for being stand-offish not to mention that Maggie has made it plain as day that she does not like ex-something-or-other (ugh, that’s too long, let’s just call her Mr.)

The first time Maggie was introduced to Mr. she launched into an interrogation that Guantanamo bay has never seen the likes of. This was the second time the two have met, but being on somewhat neutral ground the claws on both women seemed to be retracted for the most part. Not to mention that Maggie’s considerable alcohol intake may have dulled her interrogation skills just a tad.

Overall, Ripples proved to be a very fun place once the night got going. Let’s recap: I got to give my ex a lap dance. I saw one of my ex’s ex’s. I also saw two women that I’ve had flings with hand in hand with the new love of their lives, smiled and congratulated everyone on their newfound bliss. Then quickly made my way back to my ex’s lap. Uh, go figure.

I got in a drunken yelling match with one of my best friends but she couldn’t remember it the next morning. I got pulled over several times that night but managed to sweet talk (uh em … cleavage) my way out of a ticket. …. and finally at 3:00 am, found my way home. I didn’t get drunk. I didn’t get laid. Yet somehow I had a great time

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