Thanksgiving seems to be a big holiday for coming out—maybe it’s the tryptophan in the turkey that weakens our defenses, maybe it’s the over zealous cheering during football games that makes us feel the need to blurt out I’M GAY while turkey and all the fixins are passed around the table where extended family has gathered. It may seem like a good idea to come out to everyone all at once; it’s efficient really and neatly prevents a family game of telephone where you give up control over who finds out you are gay and when. My younger brother took my gayness and ran with it, deflecting attention away from his bisexuality in the process.

Fortunately for me, Thanksgiving in my family is spent preventing my father from eating the desserts he brought and anything else sugar- based. (How the man is not diabetic and over 300 pounds is a medical mystery.) Even though my family knows my orientation, I have a feeling Thanksgiving is sort of like the Alzheimer’s of holidays. It is the holiday when—somewhere after the second helping of stuffing and someone announcing they have just loosened their belt and unzipped their pants, just a little—that the wheels can come off this holiday train. If I decide to go to Thanksgiving this year I think I just may make a t-shirt with all the responses to questions that the family will invariably ask or bite their tongues off to refrain from asking. Because, you know, I’m all about being helpful.

The shirt will look something like this: NO, it is not a phase.

You already have grandchildren.
No, she’s not my roommate to “help with the bills.”Of course I want to marry her—she is smoking hot  and a doctor.

Yes I can marry her; I live in Connecticut.

Why the hell didn’t you all tell me? Seriously, you saw my yearbook photo and you watched me grow up. Why was I the last in the family to know?

This Thanksgiving I will most likely stay home (thank you, Miss Pacemaker). It’s a long drive and I just can’t count on crazy Uncle Alan to be just crazy enough.

Oh, and if you have any ideas to add to the t-shirt, please submit them below. After all, Christmas is just around the corner.

It may be pretty early to think about what to buy for that “special someone” or for our treasured NSLP’s, but leaving things to the last minute can result in tantrums and even heartbreak; for example, nothing says, “I didn’t put a lot of thought into this” like soap or bathsalts. Everyone knows this, yet everyone receives at least one Bath and Body set every Christmas from one of their so-called “friends”. So to avoid being that thoughtless oaf who spent a whopping ten minutes in The Body Shop on Christmas Eve, here are a few ideas to inspire you and get you started on your merry way:

For the Sporty Dyke:

The sporty lesbians among us tend to be a pretty laid-back bunch, so it’s not to difficult to find a present to make them smile/keep them from staging a wrestling match beside the fully laid table. If they’re really into out-doorsy stuff, why not get them some camping gear? Some emergency knives, torches, thermal mugs and what have you…You could get them from Walmart or somewhere more earthy and less capitalist of you so choose. If camping isn’t her thing, how about a soccer/rugby/lacrosse shirt? If she plays for a team, and you wanna be REALLY original, you could customise an individual sports shirt just for her, complete with her name and player number.

For the Enlightened Lesbian:

This one is more complicated. Books seem like a good way to go, but then, there is a lot of potential landmines. Some books, such as those on the NY Times bestsellers list, will no doubt be “beneath” the enlightened lesbian, so you really have to get something obscure and thus more intellectually impressive. Try getting her something like this. The only drawback might be that she insists on discussing lesbian identities and heteronormativity in mainstream society whilst Grams is offering you mince pies.

For the lesbian Film Buff:

Since it’s Christmas, I’d recommend buying a nice lesbian DVD, where neither of the protaganists kill themselves, run away, or are otherwise disposed of. Here are a few ideas of good lesbian movies to chill out to;

Imagine Me and You
Spider Lilies/Ci Qing
Itty Bitty Titty Committee
Saving Face

Or if Christmas becomes completely un-salvageable, there’s always season 6 of the L word.

For the Lesbian who likes Sparkley things:

Why not get her some pretty jewelery? It’s a bit cheesy, but a stunning necklace or an elegant ring can be a long-lasting, treasured gift when done right. Just make sure she doesn’t take it the wrong way then tell Aunt Mabel that you two will be getting a Civil Union next summer in Mai…Oh, right. I mean, Massachusetts.

And Finally, for your closet Lesbian relative:

Candles. And some potpourri. Maybe a book on spirit animals. Trust me, she’ll love it.

Well, I’m all out of ideas for now. Happy Christmas Shopping Everyone!

The phrase “lesbian humor” is often seen as an oxymoron. Never mind that pretty much every other female comic is a queer woman. Ellen. Wanda. Marga. Hell, I’ll throw Margaret in there too. On a whim I decided to Google lesbian jokes, and I came across a page linking to lesbian jokes that were (mostly) written by lesbians. Some fell into the WOMP WOMP or /facepalm or “Can I get the last fifteen seconds of my life back?” category, but others were chuckle-worthy.

Here’s one about the perils of muff diving with cheap earrings:

A young woman goes to her doctor after noticing two small circular rash marks one on each side of her inner thigh.

The doctor instructs the woman to undress and sit on the table and spread her legs. Sitting between the young womans legs, the doctor looks up at the young woman and asks if she is a lesbian.

The young woman blushes and says, “Why yes I am.” The doctor stands up, and tells the young woman, “Don’t worry your rash will go away.” The young woman asks what she needs to do. The doctor says, “Go home and tell your girlfriend that her earrings aren’t real.”

Here’s an un-pc but hilarious one about disabled lesbians:

Question: What do you call it when two lesbians in wheelchairs are in the 69 position?
Answer: Meals on Wheels.

And here’s an ode to our favorite expensive private college:

A woman walks into her doctor’s office and says “Doctor, I have this terrible rash.” She lifts up her sweater to reveal a large ‘M’ shaped rash. The doctor replies, “Now that is the strangest rash I’ve ever seen.” The woman explains, “Well my boyfriend goes to Michigan and refuses to take off his letter sweater when we make love.” The doctor shrugs her shoulders, prescribes some lotion and sends the woman on her way.

The next day another woman comes in with a very similar rash. “How did you get that?” the doctor asks. “My boyfriend goes to MIT and he refuses to take his letter sweater off when we make love,” she says. The doctor prescribes some lotion and sends the young lady on her way.

The third day another young woman comes into the doctor’s office and she too has a big rash in the shape of an ‘M’ on her chest. “Let me guess,” the doctor says. “Your boyfriend goes to Maryland?” “No,” the patient replies, “My girlfriend goes to Wellesley.”

The Google search also turned up a list in the AfterEllen forum. Here are a couple of them.

This one is just wrong:

Q: what did one lesbian vampire say to the other?
A: see you next month

And since we’re hell-bent on conjuring up visuals that are the exact opposite of aesthetically pleasing, check this one out:

Did you hear Rosie O’Donnell died? They found her face down in Ricki Lake.

Did any of the jokes on About.com or AfterEllen make you laugh? Cry? Reach for a barf bag? Wear garlic to ward off the advances of lesbian vampires during that time of the month?

And most importantly, do you have any lesbian jokes to share?

Everyone gets fired up after the election, but it is where they go after the election that matters. If you are fired up, are you doing anything about it? Maine just lost a battle over civil rights, but it’s time to take pause and see where we are. Have we been moved? Do we have a place to go from here?

California has lost so many people to fair-weathered fans. They were here during the election, but they have little information about what is happening right now. Everyone loves a good protest when the emotion is running high, but not everyone loves a protest when it’s during the everyday grind. So, there are days when I just accept the things that happen and hope for a better future. Those are my quiet days. Then, there are days where I just want to say that this “sucks.” Both are valid and both have their time and place, but one is always going to be more positive. It’s up to you to decide how you are going to roll.

I guess I am with the school of thought that any emotion is good. Any emotion is better than no emotion. It could be protestors on the opposite side (seems to be the “yes” vote lately) who insight people, old and young, to think differently because they are on the edge of reason and can’t see themselves yelling and screaming rhetoric. When words have hate behind them, people take a step back to think. I love the step back. I am encouraged by the step back.

It could be the young gay people who are living courageously, telling their story to all they meet. They refuse to be called “roommate”, “friend”, or “s/he who shall not be named.” The beauty in all of this “crap” is this is that it stops complacency. It stops people from standing idly by. America is forcing people to make a decision in their hearts, minds, and on paper. Voting makes us take pause and see where we are. It makes us step up and decide where we are going to stand on issues. It makes us take a stand. It makes us think.

Now, I am like most of you. I don’t like where we currently stand, but I am happy with the words I am hearing from those who stand by me. I was told of a friend who had a conversation with her grandmother about her gay friends. Her grandmother promptly changed her vote to NO, because my friend told her how much it would affect her life if people like me were not able to have those rights. I am lifted everyday when I hear stories of friends challenging other friends over facebook and twitter for their posts judging gay people. While I personally wish these did not happen over social media networks but rather in person, this is the world we live in. Hundreds of people will see her stand up against something she believes to be tyrannical. Could this be the newest form of protest? I believe so.

I am encouraged by the people who put up Safe Zone/Safe Space stickers in their offices. I am encouraged by gay people who are living courageous lives by being openly gay. I am encouraged when people put Human Rights Campaign stickers on their car to identify themselves as allies and as people who refuse to be anything other than who they are. I am encouraged when straight people tell me that they are angry for me. I am encouraged when they tell me they are mad about others inability to see my life as beautiful. I am encouraged, because 10 years ago, I was invisible. I am encouraged. Please be encouraged.

What I do know is that more and more people are pulling away from the church every year. More and more people in church are seeing that what they are doing is not being accepted. The majority is slowly becoming the minority. The youth are growing and voting. It’s going to be one hell of a time to live through. We are seeing change. We are seeing people love us and support us. We are seeing people get angry for us. We are seeing CHANGE. I have always said I wanted to be alive in the 1960s and see civil rights in action. I feel like I got my wish.

What has brought about the change in this Grace? What events transpired that took me from blasé to elated, already thinking about potential costumes for next year? One thing and one things only could have transformed me: partying at a gay men’s nightclub.

In the past I’ve done the traditional Halloween costume party with gay/straight friends, passing out candy while watching It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown! on a continuous loop, even partying at the lesbian bar but have never been able to really enjoy the holiday as an adult.

I had all but given up on trying to force myself to love (even like) Halloween until my girlfriend got us roped into entertaining her new co-worker this year. I consider myself to be very lucky to be with someone who is equally unmotivated to dress up, decorate or do anything elaborate for this day. Unfortunately, because she is a caring woman she couldn’t say no to this pitiful new transplant who is dying to meet more people.

Finally she came up with the idea of going to a predominantly gay men’s nightclub, which her co-workers were all over (once others in her office found out about the plan we became the event of the evening of which to partake). I was even convinced to create a costume…no easy feat.

This was easily the very best Halloween ever-starting with a Halloween themed drag show, followed by an entire night of our own “wing counting contest”, I was transformed. No longer will I buy candy and hand it out to children, no longer will I groan when the idea of creating a costume comes up, no longer will I dread the end of October.

Thank you gay men’s nightclub for changing the heart of this cynical lesbian and helping me to finally enjoy Gay Christmas. If there is anyone else out there who has not been a fan of Halloween, I encourage you to spend the evening with our boys-it changed this Grace!

After a recent night out at a fancy cocktail bar, I decided to search for lesbian cocktails to see what drinks I was missing. Well, if you Google “lesbian cocktails”, the first thing that pops up is this entry from the Urban Dictionary:

• Glass of ice water ordered in a bar; typically ordered by lesbians (in order to avoid a bar bill). Lesbians are stereotypically cheap and “lesbian cocktails” allow lesbians to sit at a bar for long periods of time and not have to pay nor tip the bartender.

When I ditched the quotes, I found a recipe for a “Lesbian Joy Cocktail” which is actually a recipe for Lesbians… as in the people of Lesbos. I also found a recipe for something called a “Blue Lesbian” but I have no idea why it is called that and it certainly doesn’t sound delicious.

This is all so wrong. Lesbians aren’t cheap and we appreciate a good drink. What’s more, we deserve good drinks. So, I think it’s time we create some of our own. I may not be a bartender but I can suggest some names and, perhaps, set the tone. Let’s get started:

• “The Ex”: This drink will be so strong that you will only need to have one. It will last all night and give you a huge headache the next day. It should probably contain bitters.
• “The Earthy Crunchy Lesbian”: This drink will contain only fair trade and/or handcrafted local indredients. It should be smooth and go well with the sweet taste of righteousness.
• “The Lesbian Potluck”: Use this recipe for a tofu/cantaloupe cocktail as inspiration and go crazy. Add alcohol, of course.

And last but not least…

• “The Muff Diver”: A little risqué but who among us wouldn’t want to order one if just for a laugh?

Our reputation is at stake so mix us up something special in the comments! We can do better than what’s out there.

Well, just in case there are a few of you poor GTS readers out there who don’t happen to have Logo or have yet to discover the joys of YouTube, here’s Julie Goldman at her finest:

Ok, take a moment to stop laughing and catch your breath… Back with me? Good.

In the above video, Julie Goldman points out a strange phenomenon that has had me puzzled since the first time I stepped foot into the land-o-dykes.

Why is there a strong correlation between butches and large chests?

Now, I know this isn’t always the case. There are quite a few femmes out there that just happen to have cleavage deeper than the Grand Canyon, but for the most part, it’s safe to say, the butcher the girl = the bigger the boobs.

Take for example my circle of friends. Although the majority of us aren’t your stereotypical “I’ve just been called Sir for the 10th time today” butches, we are, as my GF likes to put it, a bunch of jocks. We’re often clad in hoodies and jeans. Hang out at places that offer a good beer selection and allow us to play drinking games. Treat words like purse and dress like foreign concepts. And, of course… 90% of us are very well endowed in the top front quadrant.

Even more so interesting, is that our femme contingency (the amazing Jackie O. and Munchies) fall into that other 10%.

So, dear GTS readers, I’m opening this one up to you. Let’s hear some theories!

Now while drinking games have been a larger part of my past than I care to admit,(Pass the Pigs we even went so far as to create a pig sty to indulge in this drinking game) I am at a point in my life where I don’t need a game to drink, nor do I necessarily need a reason to drink. Having said that, I believe many of the world’s problems could be resolved through a series of Lesbian Beer Summits.

Recently Grace Underfire and Grace Fox met in Minneapolis and while I can not verify if they solved any of the world’s problems but I do know they did consume several types of beer and therefore I declare their get together as a Lesbian Beer Summit. On Monday of this week, I attended a two night Summit with one outrageously fun Italian and the house guest. The First night of the summit was held at the local tavern that opened in 1789, while we didn’t solve world hunger we did manage to entertain a table full of very heterosexual men. Not only did we entertain the boys we made progress on the acceptability of being a Yankee fan in New England. The second night of the summit took place in my humble abode and over several rounds of beers we discussed healthcare, politics, the Equality March (which the very fun Italian volunteered at and met Michelle Clunie), the importance of a comfortable bed, sportsmanship, and the importance of maintaining good relations with fun people from Italy. While we may not have solved any of the world’s problems this summit did set the ground work for future Lesbian Beer Summits. With good wishes the fun Italian bid a fond farewell to New England to attend another Lesbian Beer Summit in NYC.

Based on early reports from this latest summit it appears that the fun Italian was successful in developing and strengthening international relations. It is clear from these early summits that we can bring about change, maybe not big huge global changes, but small changes that foster goodwill and friendship. So Nobel committee, please take heed, we lesbians should be considered for next year’s peace prize. We certainly have done at least as much as President Obama did to win his (withdrawing cheek from tongue now).

Please excuse the brevity of this post, I am still recovering from the first New England Lesbian Beer Summit.

Or the L Word’s Joyce Wischnia in her birthday suit?

And secondly, if they were to meet each other in a dark alley, who would win in a fight?

Discuss.

I’m all for honesty in most situations, I just don’t understand this arbitrary and voluntary spilling of sexual indiscretions. And conversely, the obsessive need to discover them.  (On that note, why is it always sexual?  I mean the game is just Never Have I Ever, it doesn’t specify sex).  Why are we so in love with mining everyone’s sexual history and preferences, picking at them like scabarous sores…perhaps it’s more like lancing an abcess? Is it all for the sake of comparison?  To hold ourselves up to others and assuage our personal guilt by assuring ourselves we aren’t like that person?  In this way it might be cathartic, but I doubt anyone finds much solace. Is it that we feel validated by seeing how many other people sip or refrain?  If everyone refrains, do you get a medal?  Perhaps the Pulitzer for story telling?

Do you all really enjoy re-living these memories?  Is it like flipping through photos on Facebook?  Aw, remember when I got so drunk I hooked up with two people in the same night…then they later found out about and both got mad at me making my life miserable for several months.  And now they are together, happily in love and throwing it in my face?

Some people suggest lying. Maybe.  Or here’s a thought, maybe don’t put yourself in that position in the first place…all of those positions…but especially the one where you’re on the hot seat relating a particularly scandalous story for all to hear.  In a lot of ways this game makes us no better than the unenlightened frat boys many of us despise.  I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them invented the game.  Boasting of conquests and risks while guzzling alcohol.

I’m told, or I’ve been lead to believe, that when you truly find a person to devote a significant amount of your life to it’s undeniably clear that this is the case.  Call me naïve.  In contrast, I don’t think anyone can argue that it’s also undeniably clear when it’s the WRONG choice. Why is it necessary to indulge like this when you know, in the end, it’s a bad idea and you and/or the other person is going to get hurt? In all honesty, how many hook ups have you all gone into knowing it wasn’t going anywhere?  Close your eyes and raise your hands. Yup, you too in the back row, I see you.

So I’m not advocating abstinence, no ma’am.  I’m just saying, think about it a little bit harder.  Before that next drink, ask yourself if it’s really a good idea.  Is this something you really want to end up remembering in a game of Never Have I Ever?