Pride? I've got it. Where's yours?
Sometimes I love my city. Other times... I just don't know what the fuck to think of the place.
It should be noted that this has been Pride Weekend in BC. Vancouver had a parade and much fun was had, I'm sure, though I didn't get into the city for it.
SkyTrain, on my way to work. Two skinny metalhead-looking guys, complete with stringy unwashed hair held flat by a grubby bandana. They were seated across the car and forward of me, rear-facing. I faced forward, so we were pretty much in conversation configuration, though I didn't know them.
I'm reading Terry Pratchett's Lords and Ladies (YAY DISCWORLD) and ignoring everything. Granny Weatherwax is Getting Up To Dubious Shite Again. I'm engaged.
One of the metalheads leans toward me. "Are you one of the faggy fuckin' dykes?"
I have fucking RADAR for that word. I looked up. "What's that?"
The other metalhead says, "Are you one of those faggy. Fucking. Dykes?"
"That's usually an either-or proposition, y'know." Damn, I love reading British writers. They make me smarter somehow, I'm sure. "So which one do you think I am? A gay man, or a gay woman?" Another note: I'm definitely a woman by birth. I'm pretty sure I look the part, too.
"What?" Ah, eloquence. Thy name is Stoned Asshole.
"Well, you asked a question and I just want to be sure of exactly what you're asking me. So which is it?" At this point, I hear snickering. There's a really good-looking man in his early thirties or so watching from near the door and clearly VERY amused.
So of course the pair of metalheads completely ignore me from that point on, and instead focus on hassling Hot Guy, demanding to know if he thinks he can 'take' them, and now I'M snickering because my one-track mind immediately trips on the most intimate way to 'take' someone.
Hot Guy and I left the train at the same station. BTW, his name is Andrew, and he's a confectioner.
It should be noted that this has been Pride Weekend in BC. Vancouver had a parade and much fun was had, I'm sure, though I didn't get into the city for it.
SkyTrain, on my way to work. Two skinny metalhead-looking guys, complete with stringy unwashed hair held flat by a grubby bandana. They were seated across the car and forward of me, rear-facing. I faced forward, so we were pretty much in conversation configuration, though I didn't know them.
I'm reading Terry Pratchett's Lords and Ladies (YAY DISCWORLD) and ignoring everything. Granny Weatherwax is Getting Up To Dubious Shite Again. I'm engaged.
One of the metalheads leans toward me. "Are you one of the faggy fuckin' dykes?"
I have fucking RADAR for that word. I looked up. "What's that?"
The other metalhead says, "Are you one of those faggy. Fucking. Dykes?"
"That's usually an either-or proposition, y'know." Damn, I love reading British writers. They make me smarter somehow, I'm sure. "So which one do you think I am? A gay man, or a gay woman?" Another note: I'm definitely a woman by birth. I'm pretty sure I look the part, too.
"What?" Ah, eloquence. Thy name is Stoned Asshole.
"Well, you asked a question and I just want to be sure of exactly what you're asking me. So which is it?" At this point, I hear snickering. There's a really good-looking man in his early thirties or so watching from near the door and clearly VERY amused.
So of course the pair of metalheads completely ignore me from that point on, and instead focus on hassling Hot Guy, demanding to know if he thinks he can 'take' them, and now I'M snickering because my one-track mind immediately trips on the most intimate way to 'take' someone.
Hot Guy and I left the train at the same station. BTW, his name is Andrew, and he's a confectioner.