(no subject)

[derien]

I had this dream before taking the "what is your dyke rating" test.

I was a loan officer in a bank (not a career I've ever considered because I'm horrible with numbers - can't even balance my own checkbook anymore) and apparently we were offering unheard-of low rates for first time small-business loans. Yeah, what a terribly thrilling concept for a dream. Anyway, the place was mobbed with people even though it was an hour after closing time. I went and checked the doors (which were barn doors - I guess because I thought of this as a cattle-call (har)) and someone had forgotten to lock them, so people kept coming in. I had a pair of young ladies at my desk, but we kept getting inturrupted, until I basically chased everyone else out. Then we sat down to fill out the forms. I was privately thinking of these girls as a couple - one was femme, the other was a cute baby-dyke butch. When I woke up I actually still remembered their names - the femme was Gabrielle, but now the butch girl's name is gone from my head. I never did find out what their small-business idea was, though I think it may have had something to do with pets.

eor just teased me that I was giving the loans based on the cuteness of the girls.:)


I don't know if the "What is your dyke rating" test was entirely accurate for me. I mean, not too far off, but as rowantree pointed out, most straight women in Maine are familiar with screwdrivers. When I was in high school I split wood and poured concrete on a regular basis. My first job was as a theatre technician.

Today was too beautiful - I wandered around with Caw all afternoon, and we went to Friendly's and had ice-cream.:)

Damn - I am reminded again of why I never get on Yahoo Messenger. I logged in to see if lekythen was on, spent at least 10 minutes denying all the requests I'd gotten since the last time I'd logged in to be some idiot's "friend," lekythen wasn't on so I left it on in hopes at least I might see jimdes at some point, and then some idiot who doesn't speak english starts messaging me. He reads back to me my stats from my profile, and I look at his profile - it's blank. I asked him why I should talk to him and he says, "yes." "WHY??" I ask, "you have given me no reason to want to talk to you." He then starts sending me little tongue-hanging out smiley faces. At that point I said "fuck off" and put him on the 'ignore' list. I'm changing my profile to "no answer" on gender. I did have my occupation listed as "dragon bitch goddess of the email lists," and I just changed that, as well, to, "dragon of the email lists." Not nearly as catchy, but hopefully not as attractive to assholes, either.

Comments

[lekythen.livejournal.com]

I am sorry I missed you... Dang.

I only seem to get the creeps on ICQ, and that only tends to be guys from Turkey looking for cybersex or wannabe pornstars spamming their sites. Lekythen has been a generally luck name for me. I don't get spam at hotmail with it. Talk about a miracle...

Oh, and I agree with you about the dyke test. I mean, my father insisted that my sister and I know how to do the basics with the car. My sister went to uni knowing how to change her oil and tyres, but not how to use a laundry machine. Like the whole question about shoes... Pff. Stereotyping.

[derien.livejournal.com]

I don't understand what it is with me and Yahoo messanger and these Arabic guys. They look at my profile but apparently don't read the part that says "Hobbies: Slapping people who have preconceptions about bi-poly women." Well, just more proof they don't read English well, I guess.

Knowing how to use laundry machines is important, but there's usually someone around you can ask if need be.:) The trouble with tire changing is you don't automatically do it every week, so last time I had a flat I went all girly and called eor to come help. (Even though rowantree was there helping me already - heh ;) - but she was on a timetable and had to get home.) And it's so easy to drive the car a couple of blocks so I can pay someone $18 to change the oil. I haven't got a way to dispose of the old oil, anyhow.