My girlfriend at work, the one who is not a bitch (I should give her a real fake name) asked me if I was going to protest the Proposition 8 California passing.

She is somewhat fascinated by my bi-ness.

“No way, no how!”

“Why not?” she asks.

“I’m a bi woman. I am at the bottom of the pile in the gay world. If I get together in a long-term relationship with a lesbian, then I am a lesbian. That whole ”man thing” was just a “phase” that I got over.  If I get together in a long-term relationship with a man, than I am a straight woman who was “just experimenting” before going back to the dick.”

“What? People don’t really think that, do they?”

“Hell yes. Worse has been said. To my face. Most of the single lesbians I run into won’t even consider dating me and the one that would, I’m not attracted to her.”

Martha looks sad (oh, that’s a good name for her. She looks like a Martha). “That sounds awful! Do you get lonely?”

And just to prove I’m a silly girl, I burst into tears. At fucking work.

“Oh I am sorry!” She hugs me and I cry a little more, than get it back together before a customer sees me. Crying has really unnerved her, as if I was the last person in the world she expected to see cry.

“Not your fault. I’m sorry, I didn’t know I let it get to me.”

“Sit, let me re-do your makeup. Your mascara ran.”

I giggle and look around. We work at different counters. “OK.”

She quickly does me up. She can’t resist changing my lipstick shade.  I go from S.O.S. PINK to WHORE RED. Which doesn’t look too bad.

“Let’s go to Cinabon for lunch!” Martha says.

“I thought you said you would never go there again.” Martha has to really watch what she eats.

“Screw that. Let’s get high off of sugar and bitch about bitchy girls!”

I love Martha. She’s like the nicest person ever.

And if anybody is ever mean to her, I am, without a doubt, going to KICK THEM IN THE FACE!

Mr. Insipid called me last night and we did the big Break Up. It’s not that we were an official couple anyway.

He yelled at me! Oh my gosh, yelled! At me! While not exactly short, I am a dainty girl, yelling at me is like kicking a puppy.

Only this puppy can kick back!

Mr. Puppy Kicker was angry that I was breaking up with him for “silly reasons” and that I was being “too sensitive”. So, follow the logic here, Mr. Insipid Puppy Kicker. You took the low road by yelling at me and calling me names, and that proves what? Yes, I will tell you what. It proves you’re an ASSHOLE.

What’s funny is he’s going to try to find my new blog but he won’t be able to. Because I have changed my name to protect the guilty and I am not on LiveJournal anymore.

I admit, when I hung up I was miffed, hurt and angry at being yelled at. So I took my cell phone, and rubbed my poufy with it.

I came.

I came hard.

When I called someone this morning before class it still smelled like sex.

I think… I think… I need a girl.

Easier said than done.

Pout.

I had a LiveJournal journal and I liked it but then some man (whom I was sleeping with) told me it was insipid.

So I went and looked up what insipid meant, and now I am pissed.

First, it was insipid, and second, I was pissed because I had to look up what insipid meant.

Fine. New blog. I’ll just blog here about my infamous makeup counter girl exploits.

Why do men have to be such ASSHOLES anyway? Your chances of sleeping with me (again) after the insipid comment: ZERO.

At least I am digging the pink. PINK PINK PINK. More pink!