Category Archives: conversation

The L Word

So I don’t know how many of my fellow bro-tastic straight ladies ever get mistaken for lesbians. It’s a pretty classic scenario–you swear like a sailor and make raunchy jokes that would make your sex-crazed grandma blush if she wasn’t dying from dementia. You lack some basic flirtation skills. You can chug a beer like a badass. Perhaps you like-a da ladies?

Now, don’t get me wrong. The only scenario that I care where people think I’m a lesbian is if I’m trying to get my mack on (and the lack of flirtation skills makes this difficult anyway). I mostly find it humorous how people try to wheedle this information out of me.

Not that I don’t always contribute to the illusion. Sometimes it’s just fun to be a bro.

So I present to you three scenes of mistaken identity and/or clumsy interrogation:

Scene: Driving with my dude-friend down an eerily deserted Los Angeles street.

Dude: You know, I think all the guys thought you were a lesbian after the way you were talking about the naked ladies on those playing cards last night.


Scene: A group of dudes and I were all playing poker with a Playboy deck of cards. These cards had pictures of naked ladies. Lots of them were making “duck face.”

Dude 1: Oh man, I love the tits on the two of hearts.

Dude 2: The queen of diamonds is so hot!

Me: Really, guys? I mean, she has total bitchface. Look at her face. Ugh. I wouldn’t tap that.

Dude 2: Not really looking at her face.

Me: Even so. Tits McGee is NOT working with natural materials. The four of clubs is much hotter.

Dude 1: What do you think of the ace of spades?

Me: Meh. I fold.


Scene: I’m in my old house that I shared with a lesbian couple. They were having a dinner party with some of their friends and I was invited to kind of mooch on their food and conversation. Instead of really mingling, I’m standing in the corner, gnawing on mini quiche.

Roommate’s brother: So how are you liking L.A.?

Me: I like it a lot, actually. I mean, I don’t know if I’ll settle here permanently, but I like it.

Roommate’s brother: Well, you never know what the future will bring. Any day you could meet Mr. Right…or Mrs…..

[Roommates stop talking and eye me expectantly]

Me: Um. Mister. Mr. Right.


Scene: Bar, last week. I’m talking with a girl-friend. The bar itself is covered with coasters that feature the movie poster for “Friends with Benefits.”

Me: Ugh. You know, this movie actually has pretty good reviews on Rotten Tomatoes, but I just have NO interest in seeing it.

Girl: Me neither.

Dude: (after semi-overhearing us discussing the movie) You want to see this?

Me: No—

Dude: Would you want to see it for her (covers up Justin Timberlake’s face) or him (covers up Mila Kunis’ face)?

Me: (sighs) Really? (covers up Mila Kunis’ face).

[Though, to be honest, JT’s not really my “type” and I would probably just as soon hit Mila Kunis. That said, is JT walked up to me on the street and was like, “Hey, wanna bang?” I wouldn’t even think about it…]


And word to the wise: if you ever really want to know, I’m pretty sure it’s okay to ask.

Cooler than Aquaman in a pool

Upon going to the second warehouse that actually has air conditioning:

Me: Oh man, it’s so much cooler over here.

Boss: Totally. Both physically and metaphorically.

Me: Well, I don’t know about metaphorically…

Boss: No, it’s true. You’ve heard of Captain America? Well, I’m Captain Cool. Where I go, it is cool.

Me: So…you don’t fly. You ARE fly.

Summer Tiiiiiiimmme

Me: You know what’s awesome about summer? You can go to the grocery store and buy a shitload of berries on the cheap.

Friend: Oh shit. GOOD ASS TIP!

Me: YEAH IT FUCKING IS. I’m, like, shotgunning blueberries. Freebasing raspberries. It’s a whole thing.

Friend: That’s tight.

I’ve started talking to myself. No big.

/Intro music

Hello, good people. My name is Lisa, and it’s time for our first installment of Lisa vs. Lisa, a piece in which I interview myself.

We should be impressed with how much time I spent on this

Hey, Lisa. Thanks for taking the time out of your busy schedule to talk with me this morning.

Oh Lisa, it’s really no problem. I’m really not busy at all. Well, I tell a lie–I am kind of busy, but I’m way too caffeinated to be productive right now. Also, nothing I do really matters anyway.

Let me stop you right there, if I may, because this segues nicely into our first question.  Lisa, were you aware that many people compare you to a worthless pile of garbage–

Wait, I don’t think–

Let me finish, please. A worthless pile of garbage that a homeless person wouldn’t even sift through for cans. How do you respond to this?

Well, everyone and everything has an important societal function, I think. You know how you can’t have happiness without sorrow? Can’t have pleasure without pain? Well, how do you have awesome things without…garbage? What I’m saying, Lisa, is that I make other people look better. I’ve been doing it my whole life, and, frankly, I have a natural talent for it. I plan to rent out my services one day.

Oh? Do you believe that there’s a market for that?

I’d like to think so. I mean, I’m not very well-versed in “the market” or “the economy” but–

Yes, you do seem to display an almost willful ignorance on many topics. Is this intentional?

Intentional in that do I actively pursue ignorance in favor of intelligence? No. It just kind of happens that way. I’m afraid that my brain has atrophied to the point of near uselessness. I have to pick and choose what I retain carefully.

Like song lyrics?

Like song lyrics, yes. And not just any song lyrics, mind you–crappy pop songs that no one will remember in five years. I tried to fight this for a while, but the brain does it what does.

It does seem like its priorities are a little off. Tell me, can you even remember the plot of the book that you are currently reading?

No, Lisa, I cannot. But if you ask me to sing the Spice Girls…

Not now, thank you.

Another time then, maybe. I’m always good for a song.

Lisa, I must say, I just find you remarkable. Here you are: single, lonely, with no career prospects, no discernible talent, and waning intelligence, but you manage to still wake up every morning and–

Well, wait. I don’t think you’re being very fair. As far as career goes, the Recession–

It is the poor carpenter that blames his shoddy tools…

I’m not sure that metaphor really applies here. Anyway, Lisa, I feel like you came into this interview with some sort of misguided bias against me. I have been nothing but civil. There are certainly some good things about me. I’m pretty sure my mom likes me, anyway.

I apologize if you feel that way. Of course, I’m sure your mother is rather fond of you. I would love to let you explore your good qualities, but I’m afraid we’ve run out of time for today. Lisa vs. Lisa will be sure to have you back on soon. Good day, everyone!


The art of the email

To my boss:

Dear [Boss],

My friend is coming into town and because I haven’t seen her in a long time, if it’s okay with you, I would like to have [specific upcoming] Friday off. Also, I have a dentist appointment that day, and it would just be easier if I didn’t have to come into the office. If it’s inconvenient to you, I could make up work hours during upcoming lunch periods or stay late or something.

Sincerely, Thanks!


To new friend/aquaintance:

Dear [Friendish Person], Hey! Hi There! Howdy! Yo!

[open with joke] How’s it going? What’s happening? Hey, it’s Lisa from [thing we have in common].

So, remember when we talked about [thing] and how we mutually wanted to do it/go to it? Remember [thing]? I was wondering if you still wanted to do [thing]? Still up for [thing]? If not, that’s totally cool! I’m totally in if you are.

[gentle ribbing based on something I know about person] [close with joke] Oh yeah! Hope you had a blast at your grandma’s funeral! [close with Simpsons quote that no one will get]

Love Sincerely Best Thanks

[Nickname they didn’t give me] Lisa


Hey slutbag,

Wanna go to the thing tonight? Word.

Other slutbag (me)

Talk nerdy to me?

You know how when people talk about nerdy girls, the pop-culture image that may spring to mind is some hot chick with thick glasses wearing a shirt that says “Talk Nerdy To Me?” Yeah, no.


I’m not saying I’m the nerdiest chick out there (I only had two 80s in pre-Cataclysm WoW, after all). But nerdiness is a state of being that’s impossible to shake. It warps your core and makes you less palatable to the normal adult population, so you try to hide it. But even though you may have a big-adult job and wear clothes that aren’t hoodies and wear make-up and read the news and watch art-house movies, you can still have text conversations with your friends that go like this:

(Like last time, this chick’s name isn’t Mabel I just like to start a story out with the line, “So I says to Mabel, I says…”)

Mabel: Why do male nerds wear ponytails? Is it because of the Jedi?
Me: Ponytails are a hotbed for midichlorians.
Mabel: Lol. Isn’t that what’s responsible for the “dark side”?
Me: No! It’s the Force. Duh.
Mabel: Sorry…after seeing the prequels, I drank enough until everything created by Lucas was erased.
Me: Meesa getting drunk!
Mabel: I feel hungover right now.
Me: Talking to me will do that.
Mabel: Guess what artist I am listening to
Me: …BSB?
Mabel: No
Me: Well?
Mabel: REO

(Also, I should note that I think Mabel and I are the only members of REO Speedwagon’s current fanbase. REPRESENT!)

Nerd out.

Oh, Canada

I spent a fair deal of time in Canada. One might even say I lived there at one point. In so doing, I learned that Canada is a strange and sometimes awful place (accept it, Canadians; every place is awful in its own way).

I was recently speaking to one of my Canadian friends, and I learned this tidbit (I’m going to call her “Canada-Sue” even though her name is not Sue, though she is from Canada):

Me: i think i’m going to join a kickball team next
Canada-Sue: what is kickball?
Me: like baseball, but with a big red rubber ball that you kick
not a Canadian thing?
Canada Sue: called soccer-baseball here
good game!
Me: hahaha! soccer-baseball

Is there NOTHING that country can’t make weird?


Stupid judgmental red tape

Scene: recent phone call with my insurance company trying to make an appointment for a dermatologist.

Phone Lady: For dermatologist appointments, you need a referral. What did you want to see the dermatologist about?

Me: Um, er…acne.

Phone Lady: Oh, okay. You don’t need a referral for acne.

Me: I don’t need a referral?

Phone Lady: Not for acne, no. It’s the only thing you don’t need a referral for. I had to ask you, though. I looked at your chart and thought, “Oh, 23 is kind of old for acne.”

Me: I am not pleased about it either.

No TV and no beer make Homer something something…

So I was talking to a random person the other day, and he made a joke about getting a rape horn instead of a rape whistle or something like that. Immediately my ears perk up like a dog. “Like in Arrested Development?” I asked while my face lit up like a child about to get a rock candy stick or a puppy. Are we about to share a moment? Am I about to make a new friend?

“What? Oh, no. I don’t watch TV.”

Cue glass shattering noise.

What is WRONG with these people?!

Now, I fully understand that some people are just too busy to watch TV, and I sympathize; I really do. But these are not the people I’m talking about. I’m talking about the people who dismiss the entire medium in a voice dripping with condescension.

People who watch television are not all brain-dead illiterate rednecks who get their jollies by watching Jerry Springer. I get it; you probably like to read. I know how to read, and sometimes I even do. You just don’t need to be so dismissive with your pity-gaze that says, I waste my time in better ways than you. I’m on a coed softball team and I am participating in National Novel Writing Month, bitch, which I know is something you’ve always mused about, but you know you could never do because then when would you watch television? Thanks for saying that so smarmily, voice inside my head. You always go for the jugular.

But then, when I think about it again, I feel bad for these people who are too good for television. Pop culture is a language, and they are refusing to study. You think you can get by with the occasional “What chu talking ‘bout, Willis,” but you can’t. You need to have a larger cultural lexicon than that. Not to mention that every single life experience you have ever had has already been played out on the small screen. In other words, “SIMPSONS DID IT!” So own up to the fact you’re not original, and watch some damn television.

Friendship happens when you’re bored at work

I gchat with my friends when I’m bored at work because I’m a bad employee (whatevs, I’m totally not though–I get shit DONE). One friend I talk to recently moved to Boston, and for the sake of the story, we shall call her “mabel” (though her name is, in fact, not Mabel, since she was not born before 1960).

We will enter the conversation in media res:

me: i know–i just wanted to be a condescending prick
mabel: bravo
me: what can i say?
mabel: pssh
you are so L.A.
me: i dont think you even know what that means
mabel: condescending know it all pricks
smelling their own farts
me: that’s san francisco
mabel: That’s both
me: please, like boston people are any better
with your haaaahvahd and your MIT
mabel: lol
me: and your historical buildings
mabel: Most of them are students from out of state
Like California
me: what about that freedom trail that you’re so proud of?
i get it! shit happened there
mabel: Freedom trail is laaame
but it’s free
me: and your cobblestone streets
it’s all too much
mabel: lol
Let’s agree that the people holding this country together are Midwesterners
me: well, obviously
no question
mabel: alright then