loose lips
Last night was acting class number two. There was a bit of chaos outside the classroom prior to the start. The 6:00 class ran late sending about 20 actors spilling out into the cramped corridor occupied by students awaiting the 8:00 session.
I arrived, took one look at the disorderly scene and then secured a spot up against the wall out of the path of the recently-dismissed.
A bespectacled man in his late 20s(ish) was standing next to me. He looked me over and shyly asked, "Which class is meeting in here next?"
"Beginning Technique," I offered with a smile as I rearranged the heavy, uncomfortable load in my arms.
He returned the friendly expression and then cast his eyes downward towards my hands. The smile was replaced with a look of supreme discomfort and then he quickly spun on his heel and took about three giant steps away from me.
I looked down to see what he found so off-putting and there in my grip was the folded copy of Gay City News I had just picked up on a whim at a kiosk on West 12th Street.
Okay, which one of you dykes got sloppy and lost her copy of The Lesbian Handbook? Fess up, now. It seems this... this... boy somehow got his oppressive, misogynistic mitts on one and found the passage on page 103 which states, and I quote:
I arrived, took one look at the disorderly scene and then secured a spot up against the wall out of the path of the recently-dismissed.
A bespectacled man in his late 20s(ish) was standing next to me. He looked me over and shyly asked, "Which class is meeting in here next?"
"Beginning Technique," I offered with a smile as I rearranged the heavy, uncomfortable load in my arms.
He returned the friendly expression and then cast his eyes downward towards my hands. The smile was replaced with a look of supreme discomfort and then he quickly spun on his heel and took about three giant steps away from me.
I looked down to see what he found so off-putting and there in my grip was the folded copy of Gay City News I had just picked up on a whim at a kiosk on West 12th Street.
Okay, which one of you dykes got sloppy and lost her copy of The Lesbian Handbook? Fess up, now. It seems this... this... boy somehow got his oppressive, misogynistic mitts on one and found the passage on page 103 which states, and I quote:
Wherein any straight male with the unmitigated gall to dare socialize with any member of The Lesbian Sisterhood shall be castrated on site (using attached rusty machete). The severed member will then be held up for all to witness after which it should be flung on the floor in disgust, set on fire (preferably using cheap liquor as the flammable agent) and then an interpretive Wiccan ritual dance performed around it. Invoking the name of Martina Navratilova is optional.Ladies, do you see why we mustn't let this material fall into the wrong hands? He ran away before I could complete the task and now I'm going to fall short of my decapitated dick forecasts for the fourth quarter. You dumb bitches just cost me an all-expense-paid trip to the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival. Thanks. Thanks a lot.




