Thursday, May 31, 2007

ThePeach's Law

When you:

- Have to host a swanky conference for TheBoss the next day and must look business formal while you schmooze big-shots and kiss pasty ass.

- Haven't done laundry in a month.

- Drag every single article of clothing and textile you own to the dingy laundromat after work the night before the conference.

- Wind up doing 3 loads of laundry amongst the hobos and hookers who frequent your laundromat.

- Put your clothes in the dryer and then leave with TigerCat to get ice-cream.



Then:
- the Laundromat will enforce the new summer hours, and close while you are licking pure frozen lard out of a cone down the street.

- you will bang on the windows of the laundromat and swear.

- you will angrily walk home to discover that you chose to wash every single one of your towels and will probably have to dry off from your shower the next day using toilet paper and the cat.

- you discover that you chose to wash all 5000 pairs of your underwear, and will probably have to go commando to your conference the next morning. Mental note: no skirts. Mental note: avoid TheBoss.

- you stay up all night the night before your conference picturing the ex-con who runs the laundromat wearing your lacy underwear and blowing himsef kisses in his bathroom mirror.

- you toss and turn all night the night before your conference imagining the grizzled crack-whore who was loitering outside the laundromat strutting around town in your beautiful LuLu gear and butting her cigarettes on the ass of your luon pants.



These things only happen to me. Ice cream stole my clothes and angered my back-fat. I had my ass kicked twice by ice cream. And I skipped the gym to do laundry.

Angry and naked,

ThePeach

Monday, May 28, 2007

The Universe Has a Message for ThePeach; ThePeach Ignores It

I’m not a lesbian. But I am in love with a woman. It is a pure, innocent love based on friendship and respect, and yet the universe keeps telling me that she should be my dykey she-bitch. Stop trying to corrupt our love, Universe! Leave me and TheHippie alone.

As you can see in my side-bar, TheHippie and I are soulmates and heterosexual life partners. Everybody has a soulmate. Mine just happens to be a surly red-headed tree-hugger. We became life partners a few years ago when we realized that we were co-dependent on each other for happiness. This began when the marching band that we were both in (again…don’t ask) took a lot of road trips and we always shared a bed because we just slept so well together. And we both tended to drink until 4 or 5am, so we wouldn’t disturb each other when we passed out drunk in bed, spooning gently, as the sun was coming up. Yes, my friends, love is a beautiful thing.

So why is the Universe trying to turn something so beautiful and pure into a soirreé with the meat curtains?

Messages from The Universe Indicating that TheHippie and I Should be Lovers:

1. The Lesbian Choir

TheHippie and I both enjoy singing. We were both involved in choirs in High School etc., and last year we were bored and decided to join a choir. We researched some UniversityTown choirs online and chose one that appealed to both of us the most: an all girls choir called “Shout, Sister!”. It was a choir devoted to “singing from the heart”, the “spirit of life” and “the unity of sisterhood”. We were drawn to the warmth of “Shout, Sister!” right away.

The group of women was very welcoming. The music was meant to be empowering and freeing. A lot of the women were hippies, as it turned out. It was a sea of Birkenstocks and flowy skirts. And a lot of really short hairstyles. Some spiky hairstyles, even. As we warmed up to an African chant, a baby was passed around the room. Why couldn’t the baby just stay with the father during choir time? I didn’t think to ask. As we sang a rendition of Norah Jones’ “Come Away With Me”, some pieces of the puzzle started coming together:

Choir: Come away with me in the night.
ThePeach’s Brain: What a lovely, warm, group of women. I feel so at home here.
Choir: Come away with me and I will write you a song.
ThePeach’s Brain: Does that woman have a rat tail?
Choir: Come away with me and we’ll kiss on a mountaintop.
ThePeach’s Brain: That’s sweet – some of the women are so into the song that they’re holding hands.
Choir: Come away with me and I’ll never stop loving you.
ThePeach’s Brain: Huh. So none of these women shave their legs?
Choir: I want to walk with you on a cloudy day.
ThePeach: OH MY GOD.

Yes, TheHippie and I had accidentally joined a lesbian choir. Not cool, Universe. Not. Cool.

We never went back. Maybe we were afraid…

Kidding. We were afraid, but only of the hairy middle-aged lesbians trying to seduce us through jazzy love songs.

2. The Lesbian Harmony
I didn’t mention that TheHippie is an alto (lower range singer) and I’m a soprano (higher range singer), so our voices were made for duets and harmony. It is like they were meant to intermingle to create one, beautiful voice. We discovered this at QueenB’s cottage last May, when TheHippie broke out her guitar and we had a little sing-along. We both felt like singing, so we had to find a song that we both knew all the words to. I rummaged through TheHippie’s sheet music and pulled out “Closer to Fine” by the Indigo Girls. Perfect. As TheHippie played and we both sang, my voice naturally took the higher harmony and her voice took the lower harmony. It was dyke-a-licious.

ThePeach/TheHippie: I’m trying to tell you something ‘bout my life. Maybe give me insight between black and white.
TheHubby: Oh my god.
ThePeach/TheHippie: And the best thing you’ve ever done for me is to help me take my life less seriously. It’s only life after all.
TheHubby: It’s so beautiful.
ThePeach/TheHippie: Well darkness has a hunger that’s insatiable and lightness has a call that’s hard to hear. I wrap my fears around me like a blanket.
TheHubby: *wipes a tear*
ThePeach/TheHippie: I sailed my ship of safety ‘til I sank it. I’m crawling on your shores.
TheHubby: This is the best lesbian harmony I’ve ever heard!
ThePeach/TheHippie: I WENT TO THE DOC- what? Lesbian?
TheHubby: *cough*…encore?

As you probably know, “Closer to Fine” is basically an anthem for lesbians the world over. And this is the song we naturally picked to sing together. In perfect harmony, like it was made for our voices. Shit.

3. The Lesbian Play
Sometimes I write articles for a communist newspaper in UniversityTown. Not because I’m a commie, but because they needed writers and I needed experience. Anyway, last summer I was asked to review a one-woman cabaret about breast cancer. It sounded somewhat fun and I got an extra ticket, so I asked TheHippie to join me. She picked me up at my house in a cute dress and I wore dress pants. We joked that it looked like we were on a date. Then we walked to the theatre. We noticed that there were a lot of motorcycles parked out front. And that a lot of women were walking into the theatre, but no men. And was that a rat-tail? A few of the women waved at us, and we realized that we knew them from “Shout, Sister!”. I ran into a classmate who was there with her girlfriend, and I introduced TheHippie to her lesbian lover. Then we all sat down.

TheHippie: Where are all the men?
ThePeach: I’m not sure, but I feel really comfortable in this atmosphere.
*lights dim*
MC: Welcome to the Breast Cancer Conqueror’s Cabaret: A One-Woman show about having breast cancer and also being a lesbian!
ThePeach/TheHippie: Shit.

4. The Spooning/Cuddling
As I briefly mentioned, TheHippie and I often share a bed when we’re crashing at a friend’s place or on a road trip. For some reason we just sleep really peacefully together. We both enjoy a good cuddle, and it just seems natural to spoon sometimes. Last May at QueenB’s cottage, TheHippie and I were once again sharing a bed. On the last night, I decided to go to bed a little bit earlier than TheHippie (I’d been drinking since noon, ok?) and passed out on the pullout couch instead of our usual bed. 30 minutes later, a VERY drunk TheHippie came stumbling into the cottage and tried to crawl into bed with me, except that she went to our usual bed, where TheHubby happened to be sleeping. After realizing the warm body next to her wasn’t her life partner, she drunkenly stumbled to the next bed she could find, and ended up crawling in with Cleavage. Cleavage wasn’t having any of TheHippie’s spooning, so TheHippie once again got up and continued to stumble around the cottage looking for me. She ended up sleeping in every bed in the cottage that night (there are 4) until she finally found me, and then she slept peacefully until morning. All was right in the universe once more.

Also, this past May…also at QueenB’s cottage (what the shit? Is this place a lesbian breeding ground or something?)…we were all sitting around drinking and talking when I suddenly got the irresistible urge to walk over to TheHippie and give her a big hug. As I released her, she jubilantly exclaimed:

TheHippie: My god! I was just thinking about how badly I wanted to hug you right now! You read my mind!

No, TheHippie. That’s exactly what the universe wants us to think.

5. The Lesbian Kiss
Lord, there’s no real way to make this sound heterosexual, but you have to believe me that it is! While we were both in that marching band, everyone always made out with everyone else. We were a slutty mob of kilted drunks. We would get drunk in hotels and then everybody would kiss. It’s just what we did. Sometimes we were topless. Sometimes there were pictures. We had an “Asian Cymbals Memorial Room”, you see. Yes, Asian Cymbals was in this band as well. Actually, all of the friends on my sidebar pretty much were in this band. Maybe now you’re starting to understand what it was like. Anyway, Asian Cymbals started a “naked room” a few years ago on a road trip, and we always followed this tradition after she graduated by having the “Asian Cymbals Memorial Room”. It usually got pretty messy.

One night on a road trip, knowing that we would be expected to take our tops off later, TheHippie was concerned that her bra wouldn’t be sexy enough for the naked room. So I lent her one of mine, since I’m a huge whore and have many skanky bras. As usual, everyone got ridonkulously smashed and ended up making out with everyone else. I’m talking girl on girl, boy on boy, girl on boy on girl…we were whores. And of course, everyone took pictures of the sloppiness. But one picture stood out and became immortalized in bands history. One picture showed a couple so in love that their makeout didn’t look sloppy and slutty (as in the rest of the pictures of that night), but looked pure and meaningful. It could have been a wedding photo. That picture was of TheHippie, wearing my bra, tenderly kissing me.

Of course. Of fucking course.

(disclaimer: if you were never in this band, you can’t really understand that this kiss was not a symbol of lesbian love, but a regular occurrence amongst all bands members. It did not mean that TheHippie or I were into women. In fact, I think I fooled around with a drummer that night in his hotel bed. Maybe also in the pool. Who knows. Alcohol is so wonderful.)

6. The Lesbian Uniform
I like pink. TheHippie likes blue. I often wear pink. TheHippie often wears blue. If we were a couple, she’d be the man. Sucka!

Anyway, for her birthday last year, I got TheHippie a lululemon headband in baby blue. I liked them so much that I also got myself one in baby pink. Then we joined a yoga class together and often ended up wearing our matching headbands at the same time. We must have looked like the sweetest granola lesbians, side-by-side in downward dog in our matching his and hers headbands. Aww.

Last week, I bought the best shoes ever. TheCorporate told me about them. They’re crocs. But they’re girly crocs! They look like ballet flats but they’re the most comfortable shoes ever! I naturally bought a pair in baby pink.

TheHippie went downtown to buy herself a pair of the cute crocs today. She came home and told me all about it:

TheHippie: I bought a pair of the cute crocs today!!
ThePeach: YES!! Aren’t they amazing!? What colour did you get?
TheHippie: Baby Blue!
ThePeach:…oh god.
TheHippie:…Yours are baby pink, aren’t they?
ThePeach: We should wear them with our matching headbands.
TheHippie: I wore mine while I was buying them!!
ThePeach: You do realize that we’re one step away from matching his and hers sailor suits?
TheHippie: Damn you, universe.

Damn you indeed.

Why can’t you just let me love TheHippie in peace? Leave our platonic love alone!!! The Universe is prejudiced against same-sex heterosexual love!

I leave you with a song from West Side Story:

There's a place for us,
Somewhere a place for us.
Peace and quiet and open air
Wait for us Somewhere.
There's a time for us,
Some day a time for us,
Time together with time to spare,
Time to learn, time to care,
Some day! Somewhere.
We'll find a new way of living,
We'll find a way of forgiving
Somewhere . . . There's a place for us,
A time and place for us.
Hold my hand and we're halfway there.
Hold my hand and I'll take you there
Somehow, Some day, Somewhere!


FauxHawk: if you’re reading this, it is imperative that we partake in heterosexual relations tonight. Imperative.

There’s a place for us…

ThePeach

Monday, May 07, 2007

ThePeach and TigerCat Make Exciting Purchases

TigerCat and I went to Shopper's DrugMart tonight. We had both had long days. TigerCat now has a desk job similiar to mine, so she too is learning the paradox of the exhaustions that come from sitting on your ass reading celebrity gossip online all day. Sometimes I also play 'bloons. That's a computer game where a monkey sits on this cloud and throws darts at ballons, and you only have a limited number of darts and the balloons sometimes contain special weapons like boomerangs and...holy sacred mother of balls. I am wasting my life. On celebrity gossip and 'bloons.


I loathe myself.


Anyway, TigerCat and I went to shopper's DM tonight after we mailed our mom an obligatory mother's day present. They didn't have any cards that said "Thanks to you I have 3 fathers and no sense of self worth" or "Every day I pray that crazy skips a generation", so I just sent her a potted plant.


So, TigerCat and I were standing in the checkout line at Shopper's, both of us exhausted and bleary eyed from a day full of 'bloons, when we had the following conversation:


TigerCat: *looks at the items in her basket* Jesus christ, I'm buying Q-Tips and a carton of milk? This is so fucking sad.

ThePeach: You're telling this to someone buying a 16-pack of toilet paper and a 99 cent can of salmon.

TigerCat: You win.

ThePeach: I do win.


Just another exciting night in my thrilling life.


ThePeach

(bloons monkey)


Thursday, May 03, 2007

ThePeach Has a Disturbing Conversation; Fears Clowns


I’ve always found clowns completely creepy. Seriously, they creep the hell out of me. The painted smile, the crazy hair, the big shoes - what the shit is with that? I remember once I was in this parade (ya, I used to be in parades. I held a flag and wore a short skirt. I was usually drunk. This is a story for another time.) and some fucking creepy clown took a liking to me. He pranced behind me, mocking my flag-holding, got all up in my face with his painted grin, honked a bicycle horn in my ear, and threw M&Ms at me. I didn’t know whether to shit my pants or stab a stake through his heart (that’s how you kill clowns, right?).

Anyway, my point is that I really don’t like clowns. I’m not terrified of them, like TheHippie is, but I really hate them. A lot.

Last Saturday, TheHippie, TheHubby and I watched an SNL skit where they made fun of McDonalds and referred to a “McJob” as the act of receiving oral sex from a clown. This got us to thinking. What would it really be like to receive oral from a clown? The answer: terrifying and also hilarious.

ThePeach: Can you imagine looking between your legs and seeing a clown’s face looking back up at you?
TheHippie: *scream*
TheHubby: Would he smile the entire time?
TheHippie: *scream*
ThePeach: I think he would make funny noises while he did it. Like motorboat noises. Or slide whistle noises. *wheeeeee!!* (imitation of slide whistle)
TheHippie: *scream*
TheHubby: Can you imagine a clown’s voice asking you: “Hey, Hey, boys and girls! Are you coming yet?!” *said in high-pitched clown voice*
TheHippie: *scream*
ThePeach: I like to think he would also honk a bicycle horn.
TheHippie: *scream*
TheHubby: And, in the background, the circus theme music would be playing. *do do do-do-do-do do do DO DO*
TheHippie: *scream*
ThePeach: Do you think his makeup would smear? Like you’d look at your own genitals and there would be a copy of the clown’s face imprinted on you?
TheHippie: *scream*
TheHubby: For foreplay he’d perform magic! Like he’d pull a string of brightly-coloured scarves out of your vag.
TheHippie: *scream*
ThePeach: God, this is really getting disturbing. Seriously, I’m slightly terrified. Maybe even terrified enough to never want oral again.
TheHubby: Me too.
ThePeach: Well, that’s clearly a lie.
TheHubby: No shit.
ThePeach: Is anyone else craving McNuggets?
TheHippie: *sobs gently into a pillow*

I’m loving it.

ThePeach