Rating the Lesbians, Volume 7
written by Emily & B on March 8, 2025

Volume 1 :: Volume 2 :: Volume 3 :: Volume 4 :: Volume 5 :: Volume 6 :: Volume 7

And so it is.

Six months ago we did what I thought would be the sixth and final edition of "Rating the Lesbians," the series that has brought our site the most empty hits, and also the most empty derision. At the time, I was in the (gorillas in the) midst of my first semester at a very liberal, free-wheeling women's college. I started to feel a little bad about all the fun we poke at lesbians. I didn't want to show any of the women I met the website I worked on, for fear I'd be indicted as an unenlightened, male-identified OTHER, who was doing Phyllis Schlafly levels of harm to the sisterhood. I didn't think I should be carelessly exploiting lesbians, real or fake, anymore. So I took a stand. I said I was done. I thought I'd be part of the solution.

Now, after a few weeks of not going to class, deciding to drop out of college for the third, yes THIRD time, sitting on my ass, watching a lot of TV and hanging out on craft websites, I find myself going back to the well a seventh time. Is it simply because I've lost enthusiasm for my school, and my enthusiasm for being a good feminist along with it? No, I don't think so. I'm just no longer willing to pretend I don't like what I like in favor of appearing like a marginally better person. Because, frankly, I still really love lesbians. I think they're great in a completely sexual, chauvinistic way. And I still really hate that we live in a culture full infotainment, celebutants, and enough mindless misdirected grabbing for attention that allows us enough ammo to keep doing these fucking posts.

We started doing this to point out how ubiquitous the two-second lesbian had become, and how off the mark most of it was. We stopped doing this because I felt we'd gotten too far from our original intent, and were no better than the schlubs who have already skimmed past this part of the article in favor of the pictures. I know now that I just have to be who I am. I can't make force myself into a feminist agenda so the girl with the shaved head will want to be my friend if it's not me. I can't stop enjoying the pointless booty rap songs, even if I KNOW they're misogynistic, materialistic, and homophobic. And I can't make myself not like sexy girls making out just because I know I should strive to be more than an audience member on "The Man Show."

And so it is. Spectacular, Spectacular. On with the show.

- Emily

Charlize Theron and Penelope Cruz

Film: "Head in the Clouds," (2004)
She: Won an Oscar for acting like Beetlejuice was a female serial killer.
She: Won a Goya for acting the most like a can of beans.

Emily: I haven't seen this movie, but at first glance it really seems like something I'd enjoy. Stupid worthless bohemians doing stupid worthless things in Europe while wearing pretty clothes. My kind of movie. But there are a few reasons that just scream "HATE" at me.

1) Stuart Townsend is the biggest fetus face ever. Like, his hair in this movie? You know how Johnny Depp occasionally gets sick of being a sex symbol, so he shows up to award shows all, "Look at me! I'm not Capt. Jack Sparrow, but rather a middle aged man with a Colonel Sanders goatee and hair that parts way too high on my head! LOOK AT ME, DAMNIT!" That's Stuart Townsend's hair.

2) Penelope Cruz is looking full-on Jon-Benet here. Okay, If you want to say that pre-crisis Cruz was some super Spanish hottie, whatever, I won't argue. But the Penelope Cruz that has made the meanderingly successful "jump" to American cinema looks like a tiny frail mouse in mommy's dancing shoes. And in this movie she looks like someone is trying to smother the mouse under five gallons of makeup

So, okay, the lesbians. Charlize Theron won an Oscar for making herself ugly and dykey, so she thought she'd go to the well again. Super. The problem here is that this particular scene falls into one of the two categories that 75% of the scenes we review here do. They're either all dainty and "ew, cooties" about it. Or they're so desperate to prove how legitimately into kissing chicks they are, that they ruin any potential chemistry by going all Natasha Henstridge on the other chick.  This appears to be the latter. Like, both women are sort of holding on for dear life here, like the Titanic just sunk and Charlize Theron's tongue is a floating door in the middle of the ocean. I don't like my lesbians to remind me of Leo DiCaprio unless one of them IS Leo Dicaprio, and he's about 8 years and 35 pounds past pulling that off anymore.

B: You know what the least sexy thing to me in the entire world is?  Flappers.  The 1920s should go Charleston into a hole.  Feel free to see my middle fingerwaving you out of my sight.  Charlize Theron stopped being attractive when she started looking so Mighty Joe Old and Penelope Cruz, well

The freewheeling Tom Cruise

Lots of luck pal, she's evil!

Harpo Marx says:

The P-Boi Sapphometer Reading: 2.5 Sappho.

Jennifer Garner and Natassia Malthe

Film: "Elektra" (2004)
She: 35 going on 30
She: More like Kelly Who?

B: Jennifer Garner has a face made of elbows and continues down the esteemed career path of "girl who is just like the guys and will do anything to make them like her."  This includes being one of the obnoxious "I'm a GIRL who KICKS ASS" women like Angelina Jolie or Sarah Michelle Gellar who believe that being able to perform elaborate dance routines after practicing them several times qualifies them as kickers of ass.  You know what?  Aja Kong is a girl who kicks ass.  Aja Kong will spin around and crush the side of your face with the back of her forearm, and then sit her fat ass down on your back and rip off your human being.  Aja Kong does not need wires and strategically placed lingerie to kick your ass.

Jennifer Garner's big "lesbian scene" in her solo project "Elektra" comes when evil villain Typhoid Mary watches a copy of "Hero" on DVD and decides the delicate swirling of colored leaves needed two tight-assed thirty-somethings timidly lip-kissing. You know what?  I'm going to be honest here.  I wasn't aroused by this scene.  In fact, I got a bigger boner the last time I saw Manami Toyota put Aja Kong in the Kamagatame.

Heh heh heh, I think I just got it again.

Okay, but actually I think I got something similar when I saw American Dragon do this to Colt Cabana at a Ring of Honor show.  And not only are they both guys, but...okay, see that move?  Imagine a jacked-up Potsie from "Happy Days" having this move done to him by a jacked-up Richie Cunningham in tighty-whities.  Pro Wrestling tends to get better when the wrestlers get uglier.   And if I don't stop talking about Happy Days in a second I'm going to force out a Natassia Malthe "Ralph Malthe" joke.

Emily: I thought the dark haired woman in Elektra was Crazy Fairuza Balk for the longest time. Which would have been much cooler, 'cause if you squint hard enough (like, giving birth hard enough) Jennifer Garner's Man Face kind of turns into Skeet Ulrich's Butter Face. The problem I have with this scene is that it's the first of many in today's Rating the Lesbians to distract me with one of the participant's ugly man hands. Look at that thing. If not for the teal manicure I'd think Homer Simpson had purchased the thing to make wishes.

Seriously, if Natassia Malthe looks like this, why does her big ol' paw look like this? Bleh. The motivation of this scene is that Typhoid Mary kills people with her kisses. But really, I think she'd get me just by making a fish hook gesture with her right hand and saying, "Zeeeeeke the Plumbeeeeeeeer" over and over in spooky voice

Harpo Marx says:

The P-Boi Sapphometer Reading: 1.5 Sappho.

Trish Stratus and Lita

Television Show: "WWE Raw" (2004)
She: Like Hashimoto with breast implants.
She: 1.056 liquid quarts.

B: Lita and Trish Stratus are professional wrestlers for World Wrestling Entertainment, the most popular and recognized brand in sports entertainment.  The difference between "sports" and "sports entertainment" is, of course, the frequency with which one or more of the athletes is shoved face-first into an available birthday cake.  Consider the basic differences between these women.

Trish Stratus was an internationally successful fitness model of incredible beauty who was hired based on the size of her tits, realized she didn't want to be judged based on the size of her tits, and busted her ass to become the best in-ring competitor the WWE women's division has to offer.  When she realized she was viewed as good in-ring but a horrible actress, she busted her ass to become charismatic on the microphone. 

Lita was a girl from North Carolina of questionable intent who traveled to Mexico to train with wrestlers whose idea of "wrestling" is running at a rope and jumping over or through it.  After becoming prestigious enough to be the valet of a lower-card wrestler who worked in a Philadelphia bingo hall she began dating a WWE employee and was rewarded with her own spot on television. Infamous for her underwear that does not fit into pants properly and her ability to hurt herself and others in situations this would not normally happen, Lita became the most popular figurehead for the WWE women's division.  When she realized that the universe outside of teen girls who also own those anarchy pants (including large portions of her boyfriend's book) thought she was a crappy wrestler, she got hurt filming a guest spot on a Jessica Alba vehicle and sat out for a year.  Then she came back triumphantly to immediately hurt something else and sit out.  Most recently she was seen coming back triumphantly and immediately hurting herself.  She has the microphone ability of a donkey who is being squeezed like a tube of toothpaste.

Fans hate Trish Stratus because she does not like the fans.  Fans love Lita because she dances awkwardly for them when entering an arena.   Here we see Lita delivering the "Kiss of Death" on Trish, which, while not being sexy or sensual in any way, was an instant wet dream for fans of women being lesbians on wrestling.  This intimidation factored heavily in Lita's victory over Stratus, which was highlighted by Lita running at a rope, jumping through it, and landing on her face.  She recovered from this injury long enough to show up at the next show, where she jumped four feet from the apron to the floor and twisted her leg off.

Trish Stratus continues to be the most all-around entertaining woman in the modern history of North American women's wrestling.  Lita continues to be the woman most photo-shopped multiple times into monochromatic E-fed banners about extreme divas.

Emily: It's hard to get anything out of this scene when for the last week every wrestling website on Earth has done nothing but make the same "Edge Speared Lita. . . in the crotch" joke.   So I'm going to show my girl fandom and apt reproductive system punnery by saying Christian is more like "Captain Corpus luteum" and move along.

Harpo Marx says: 

The P-Boi Sapphometer Reading: 2 Sappho.

Rebecca De Mornay and Vanessa (L.) Williams

Television Show: "Boomtown" (2003)
She: Never Talks to Strangers.
She: Talks to strangers about Radio Shack.

B: One of these women became famous for having her Miss America crown taken away because of hardcore B&W stool and vagina licking.  The other became famous by letting Tom Cruise feel her up by an open window in such a way to allow a variety of stiff things including the breeze into her butt-crevice in the movie "Risky Business."

The freewheeling Tom Cruise

This would've rocked my world when I was thirteen.  I had a huge (albeit brief) thing for Rebecca De Mornay because she looked just like my friend's Mom.   And in the early 90s Vanessa Williams became America's sweetheart by giving me a string of song titles I could use to describe wanting to bone her.  I did them all.   I welcomed myself into her "comfort zone."  I heard her wolf-cry from a cornholed moon.  I saved the breast for last.  It was fantastic.   And where are we now?

We're ten years later.  Rebecca De Mornay is more like Rebecca De Evenay and Vanessa Williams, now with an added "L." for legal reasons, is ridden hard and hung up wet by the obviously anally-experienced Ving Rhames and his constant demand for cell phone and home electronics efficiency.  So we've got two women who are old enough to be my Mom making out on a show I'm not watching because "24" exists and I can discern the tastes of filet mignon and mole taint.   "Boomtown" comes and goes before I know it and all I'm left with is the gimmick of observing the ravages of age on Rebecca De Mornay's face from every point of view.

Emily: First of all, I really hope that the entire run of "Boomtown" didn't look like someone left it in their jeans and threw it in the wash. 'Cause those screencaps aren't doing anyone any favors. Second, AHHHHH, MORE OLD LADY HAND!!! RUUUUUUUUNNNN!!!!!. Look how De Mornay is all sweet and come hither with the left hand, turning Williams around just so. Then when she's got her in attack range, ARRRRR IT'S MY GHOST PIRATE ARM! IT WANTS YOUR BOOTY!! YARRRRR! The Hand That Rocks the Cradle is apparently connected to The Arm that Rocks the Jaycee's Haunted House. For real though, when I was in high school our anatomy class took a field trip to a cadaver lab once, and that's totally what the corpse's arm looked like. Shredded chicken half off the bone.

Speaking of which, what happened to Rebecca De Mornay, man. She's looking like, Daryl Hannah levels of old. She also appears to be sucking the food out of Vanessa Williams' teeth, Dyson style. But maybe she's just doing exaggerated kissy face 'cause she knows that if anyone gets too close to her razor sharp jaw line it'll be the M'Lady DeWinter of their discontent.

. . .dude, I don't even know what that last sentence meant. Put keeping up with B's punning is really hard sometimes.

Harpo Marx says: 

The P-Boi Sapphometer Reading: 1.5 Sappho.

Mischa Barton and Olivia Wilde

Television Show: "The O.C." (2005)
She: tattled on people as a child so at least one moderately witty kid could call her "Barton Fink."
She: Somewhere there's a painting of her appearing on a much better show.

Emily: Ah, "The O.C." Man I sure do love shows about rich people having problems. Especially if those problems are regularly worked out to some rockin' tunes at the Peach Pit After Dark. TONIGHT AT THE PIT LADIES AND GENTLEMEN WE HAVE THE TOADIES!! "I come from the waterrrrr whoo yeah!" I also really like the E! channel. I am the American non voter.

So, what makes a show about incredibly shallow people with vapid empty difficulties even SEXIER??? WHY,SCISSOR MONKEY BUDDIES, YASE OF COURSE. It's true folks, this season the producers of "The O.C." decided they needed to take their show about being young and SEXY SEXATRON 5000 to the next step. So they made Mischa Barton, America's favorite non-pretty khaki shilling horse face, make out with some blonde chick I don't care about. WOW GUYS, THAT SURE IS SEXY AND EDGY. ANY MORE SEXY AND EDGE, AND WE'D BE THE FUCKING DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES, HIGH FIVE!! Or that would be the case, you know, if Mischa Barton hadn't been making out with girls or standing next to girls who make out in every project she's done since she was 14. WAY TO GO FELLAS!

Okay. I've watched Vh1 countdowns to know that I'm supposed to find Ms. Barton attractive. If a girl is tall and skinny with an idiot man voice, then that must make her sexy. Fine, whatever, someone send me Peta Wilson's picture so I can maniacally masturbate. I just wish someone would please tell that damn girl to stand up straight. Just once. Look at her. She's even slouching in our screen cap. She and Paris Hilton are each other's universal opposite. Mischa can't do anything with out her collar bones down around her tits, and Paris keeps her shoulders so far back that her mommy parts are usually the first thing in the door

Look dude, I don't care if you make out with chicks, but just please stop slouching. Please, for mom? DAMNIT GIRL, DO IT OR I'M REPLACING YOUR PICTURES WITH 80 YEAR-OLD TERRI HATCHER HUMPING A TOASTER. Or whatever the fuck they do on "Desperate Housewives." Like they won't wind up in some future installment of Rating the Lesbians anyway. God, I hate life

B: Two things:

1)  Mischa Barton makes me want to vomit all over Haley Joel Osment.
2)  All of Olivia Wilde's hotness is negated by the bad stage name that makes her sound like she should be wrestling "Sinn" at an Ohio Valley Wrestling show.

Harpo Marx says:

The P-Boi Sapphometer Reading: 3 Sappho.

Sarita Choudhury and Indira Varma

Film: "Kama Sutra: A Tale of Love" (1996)
She: Kama, the supreme fighting machine.
She: A tail I love.

Emily: Here's a weird thing about me: I LOVE Indian women. Not sure what it is. I know if I actually went to India, the women wouldn't, as a whole, be overly appealing to me. However, when it comes to Indian women I might see on TV or in a movie, they're almost always hotties. Seriously, I saw Indira Gandhi at some human right's conference when I was like 17 and I totally did that, "put a peace sign up to your mouth and wag your tongue" thing at her. Sexy bitch. And since everyone knows that the only things I enjoy more than foreign women are lesbians and sexy movies, you're damn right I enjoyed me some Kama Sutra.  Really, it's a movie full of things I enjoy. Beautiful women (doin' some kissin', ring a ding ding), lush sets full of things that look like I could buy them from the Global Bazaar aisle at Target, and hot Indian men with even hotter British accents. Seriously dude, I just made a puddle in my chair. But that was mostly cause of the Target stuff.

So, in conclusion, Mira Nair needs to come to my house and make movies in my living room forever and ever, Amen. As long as they never star Reese Witherspoon again. 'Cause that was some boring shit, yo. Although, honestly, if Reese had stopped to make out with Sarita Choudhury in the middle, I'd have the poster on my wall already.

B: I know that in India lesbianism isn't the way of the law, so I expect at least one of these women to kill a deer of buffalo with nothing but their arrow and their hickory bow from a hundred yards, don't you know.  They do it all the time.

Also, "Sarita Choudhury" is what you have to say as a foodserver to an irate table who hasn't yet received their New England Clam because of lazy cooks.

And while I'm making this joke, "Indira Varma" aptly describes the movie "Ben."

Harpo Marx says:

The P-Boi Sapphometer Reading: 5 Sappho.

Foxxy Love and Princess Clara

Television Show: "Drawn Together" (2004)
She: Makes me want to travel back in time and punch young me in the face for loving Hanna-Barbara so much.
She: Makes me want to travel back in time when "Jiminy Glick" was the awful TV show coasting after South Park.

Emily: You know, it's odd. "Drawn Together" is the biggest piece of shit waste of time on television right now (or it was, until last night when I watched "Fat Actress." Jesus Tapdancing Christ). It's poorly animated, retardedly plotted, and the absolute polar black hole sun opposite of funny. But, in a way, what we see in this scene is kind of what we've been doing with the Rating the Lesbians series for a year now.

For those who don't know, the plot of "Drawn Together" is that it's a reality show, essentially aping "The Real World," but full of cartoon characters. And just like "The Real World" went from "social experiment" to "obviously stereotyped cast chosen for the most conflict" to "fuck it, let's find some white people to do the butt fuck dance on camera for us," "Drawn Together"'s 'cast' is made up of what we'd consider the stereotypes of animation:  The super hero, the Disney-esque Princess, the cuddly fighting Asian pocket monster thingy. To further the parody, the characters have to act out all the things that have come to be cliche after about 15 years of "The Real World." For example, in this scene the cast are all hanging out in the hot tub on the first night together. Since there are two relatively attractive females (the aforementioned Disney Princess, and the sassy black "Valerie from Josie and the Pussycats in a thong and booty shorts" Foxxy Love), history dictates that these women must make out. It's not cool, or well executed, or in any way entertaining. However, at it's core, the objective is is the same as these posts we keep doing: Lesbians are pretty neat, until you see them in every single show including the GD animated reality show, and then it becomes uncool.  So watch these two cartoons tonguing each other and know that you, the entertainment industry, are robbing us of something beautiful. That is, the ability to watch beautiful women kiss each other and live out unreachable fantasies.

I give you my thumbs up, "Drawn Together." And then I change the channel, because your show is horrible. But it's better than "Fat Actress."

B:  I'm glad somebody finally got around to making fun of reality shows.  I hope next season Patty Mayonnaise gets lyme disease and Roger smacks her in the face.  And then Skeeter can show up and get all up in Doug's face for not appreciating the plight of blue people, and later we can get that awesome confessional where Doug (who by now has to have that white boy curly afro) calls him a Porch Smurf.

Finally, an avenue for my Disney's Doug fan fiction!   FUCK HIM HARDER, MR. DINK, FUCK HIM

Harpo Marx says:

The P-Boi Sapphometer Reading: 0.5 Sappho.

Charlotte Coleman and Cathryn Bradshaw

Film: "Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit" (1990)
She: Might be the civilian identity of He-Man.
She: Will let more than Orlando Jordan in her "cabinet."

Emily: The Amazon.com description of "Oranges are Not the Only Fruit," the novel which the mini-series is based on:

Raised by an oppressively evangelical mother, Jeanette grows up a good little Christian soldier, even going so far as to stitch samplers whose apocalyptic themes terrify her classmates. As she dryly notes, without self-pity or smugness, "This tendency towards the exotic has brought me many problems, just as it did for William Blake." Jeanette would have remained in the fold but for her unconventional desires; though she can reconcile her love of women with her love of God, the church cannot. It could have been a grim tale, but this first novel winner of England's Whitbread Prize is in fact a wry and tender telling of a young girl's triumphantly coming into her own. Highly recommended.

What better way to celebrate Jeanette Winterson's beautiful and poetic story than to trivialize it on a website!!

No, seriously, I read this book for a class, and it's wonderful. And I've heard the film is wonderful as well. It's not even really about lesbianism, really. The title isn't some clever way of stating that you can eat a peach instead of a banana, it's more in reference the the main character's religious awakening, her acknowledgment that your God may be an awesome God, but he's not the only one up there. So. . .I can't do it. I can't talk about how hot or not hot this is. I can't nitpick anything in the screencaps. I can't even make fun of Charlotte Coleman's hair. So, B, ball's in your court.

B: 

	bats_live_incaviglia: Knock knock. WordUpThome: WHO'S THERE bats_live_incaviglia: Banana WordUpThome: BANANA WHO bats_live_incaviglia: Knock knock WordUpThome: WHO IS THERE bats_live_incaviglia: Banana WordUpThome: BANANA WHOM?? bats_live_incaviglia: Knock knock WordUpThome: WHO'S THERE I DEMAND YOU TELL ME NOW bats_live_incaviglia: Orange WordUpThome: ORANGE WHO bats_live_incaviglia: Orange you glad I didn't say banana? WordUpThome: YES, VERY MUCH ORANGE WHO bats_live_incaviglia: That's the joke, orange you glad I didn't say banana?  ORANGE you glad? WordUpThome: VERY MUCH SO BUT I WOULD STILL LIKE TO KNOW THE SPECIFICS OF THE FRUITS THAT HAVE BEEN KNOCKING AT MY DOOR bats_live_incaviglia: Okay, Knock knock WordUpThome: YES WHO IS IT bats_live_incaviglia: I am Daniel L. Orange Esq., I'm here to make sure you are eating oranges constantly because for some reason I want you to eat my namesake repeatedly. WordUpThome: I DO ENJOY THEM BUT ORANGES ARE NOT THE ONLY FRUIT WordUpThome: OH MY A SUDDEN RELIGIOUS AWAKENING

Harpo Marx says:

The P-Boi Thomemeter Reading: 4 Thome.

Joely Richardson and Famke Janssen

Television Show: "Nip/Tuck" (2004)
She: Helped Jeff Daniels cope with the birth of over one-hundred dogs at once.
She: Xenia pretty much Onabottom.

Emily: I've never gotten around to watching "Nip/Tuck," even though it seems to be full of the trashy people and needless fucking I tend to enjoy in my entertainment programs. Still, to try and contextualize this scene for myself, I went looking for some description of who these characters are, and why they might be making out. I found out the following:

1) Joely is a neurotic doctor's wife.
2) Famke is a "life coach."
3) Joely has a teenage son.
4) Famke sleeps with said teenage son.
5) Famke also has a teenage son.
6) Famke also makes out with her own son.
7) Famke is a post-op trannie.

SOUNDS LIKE A WINNER TO ME, WINK!

So. . .I still have no idea what might persuade these two women to make out here. In fact, I'm not longer sure if this scene even qualifies as lesbianism. Like, if you have a homosexual man, and then you turn him into a woman, and she still prefers men, but then she makes out with a woman, how exactly does one categorize that?

. . .wait, I don't care. Even though I have a huge crush on old ass Famke, the most appealing thing about this scene, to me, is her geriatric lady hat. So this scene gets two Sapphos, but 7 Coco Chanels.

B: Having seen this episode I know that Famke is portraying the "angel of death" here, with a kiss that takes you a way to a far off plane where all the people you love are waiting single file and you must spend your first few minutes there reenacting Moby's "Natural Blues" video.

Or maybe that was just me.  I seem to remember wanting to die the last time I watched Nip/Tuck.

Harpo Marx says:

The P-Boi Sapphometer Reading: 2 Sappho.

Paris Hilton and Eglantina Zingg

Cell Phone: "Paris Hilton" (2005)
She: Says "that's hot" about everything.
She: Just burned you.

B: When Paris Hilton's T-Mobile Sidekick was hacked earlier this year it sparked a series of questions.  Who could've committed such a heinous act of privacy invasion?  Why does Paris Hilton have Stephen King's phone number?  Could the CIA remove Avril Lavigne's digits before I cave and call her to ask her to go to prom with me?  But the greatest mystery of all lay deep within the cryptic code of Hilton's phone number listings.  Mentions of "boy wonder," "Popoo," and "Feed the Children."  And, of course, the infamous

Egplant dike ass
1-310-279-3866

I, of course, came to a simple conclusion.

Sadly the dike ass belonged to MTV Latin America VJ Eglantina Zingg.  So there's no chance of me seeing Paris Hilton and her strangely long nipple making out with a Kid Icarus villain.  But I sure would like to Reaper with my Totem until McGoo shot out and hit her in her Monoeye.  Tros me.  I'd save enough for Uranos.

Emily: Gah! More man hand!! What the hell is going on with these women??  I mean, fine, okay, Paris Hilton has decided she wants to make out with HER-ME-OWN from the Harry Potter movies.  Cool, whatever, her prerogative.  But why was it necessary to let Jeremy Irons slip his big purple appendage (the other one, oddly enough) through Eggplant's jacket sleeve while they were doing it? Did they think it would be a funny picture?  Are they doing improv?   Is this an all new episode of Whose Line???  I'm so confused. Although now that I look at it again, that might not be HER-ME-OWN in the first picture at all, but rather "Blossom" star Mayim Bialik.  I guess getting Paris Hilton naked and realizing that her nipple's were crafted in Geppeto's workshop ain't no good a reason for gettin' all depressed.

Harpo Marx says:

The P-Boi Fictional Measuring Device Reading: 1 Sappho, two Jim Thomes, and an Eggplant Wizard.

In the grand scheme of things, it's interesting to think how fate will judge me. B won't have to worry, he's just being one of the guys. But what about me? Am I truly damning my gender? Or is the bucket this post drops into much larger, and the droplet much smaller, than I'm imagining? I write these things and I get an e-mail that says, "I like lesbians too," an e-mail that says, "write about gay men more, sister," an e-mail that says, "NO MEN KISS ME NO LIKE," and I just don't know which to listen to. I suppose I probably am part of the problem, no better than those women in the videos for the booty rap songs, who get called bitches and treated like objects, but claim to be empowered because they feel sexy when they do it.

But does anyone really care, honestly? As I write this, I don't think they do. The "they" that would be reading this has already scrolled back up to look at Paris Hilton's Pinocchio nipple some more, or added my screen name to their buddy list so they can forget it in a week and IM me angrily asking who I am, or IM me to tell me they like "the lesbian website."

Yeah, you know what? I don't think I even care about the bucket anymore. Just stop IMing me, please.

AGREE? DISAGREE? LESBEE? AN? Tell us about it in the P-Boi Forums!

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