Last night David and I were at a post-thanksgiving party (which was our actual thanksgiving since we decided to lay low this year) hosted by Pablo (Pablo of the cereal parties). I love going to Pablo’s parties because you meet the interesting mix of people.
We played Simpson’s Clue, ate copious amounts of snack food, made inappropriate penis references in front of Pablo’s mom and tried to keep Moses, the very determined viszla from eating all the party food.
Later, David and I were talking to Amy and we got to the part where we exchanged emails. She recognized my name. I wasn’t too surprised, it’s a pretty common name and I am sure the Heather Ward army will rise up (with me as their leader) and we will have our revenge… but anyway. We tried to figure out how she knew me. I couldn’t really contribute how I knew her as I had watched her on stage a number of times. It’s not like I could be like “ooooh, right right, you’re the one that talked about crocheting yarmulkes! I remember you!”.
The questions started, I offered up where I had worked, things I did, possible drunken bacchanalia where I might have been seen face down under a coffee table…
“Did you used to be a lesbian?”
People have asked me all kinds of peculiar things (does this make me look fat? how you be so short? what’s this growth on my back?) but I’m pretty sure this is the first time I got that one. Granted, I’ve been asked a number of times “I thought you were a lesbian” (bi, people, bi!), but not “did you used to be a lesbian?”
Yes! (bi) we were amazed. It cemented things, it made it all clear…wait, no. We determined that she must have known me from something since it’s not often people peg me as a reformed lesbian (I’M BI! dammit).
At least she’s pleasant and charming, I’ve had a number of “don’t I know you from somewhere” moments where I’ve been forced to be deaf and unable to speak english!
Time for coffee and ice cream!