Photo of the Week: Dog.Gone.

This is the rug that greets you at the sheriff's office in Pinellas County, Florida, for which taxpayers paid $500; not such a bad price except ...

... after being there for two months someone finally noticed that instead of 'In God We Trust,' Florida's state motto, it read ...

... 'In Dog We Trust.'

The error was made by the rug's manufacturer and it is being replaced, while the original, according to Pinellas Sheriff Bob Gualtieri, will be auctioned off for charity.

I have a better idea; I know someone, out there in the Pacific North West, who would just love this rug, and i know a couple of Labs who'd like it as their personal nap spot.

Just sayin'.

Ted Cruz: Two-Time Equine Posterior Achievement Award Winner and an ISBL Asshat Winner

You gotta hand it to Ted Cruz. I mean, no one in Congress works harder at doing nothing than our visitor from Canada — who decided to become a US citizen so he could run from president … of his homeowner’s association because that’s as close to a presidential office as he’ll ever get.

But, while accomplishing nothing other than shutting the government down because he’s a pissy little brat, Ted has also been the recipient of several honors. He’s been an ISBL Asshat of the Week more than once, and just recently he won the coveted Equine Posterior Achievement Award, which is the People For the American Way’s annual prize for the country's most extreme right-wing politician.

And by right-wing I mean asshat, er, Horse’s ass. And it wasn’t even close! Cruz won by a 21-point margin repeating his 2013 victory, when he beat out the likes of Michele Bachmann and Sarah Palin for the coveted award. Seriously. He’s more of a Horse’s Ass than those two! That’s a prize-winner if I ever saw one!

Ted Cruz bested MGB™ and Crazy Eyes by pulling another stunt that backfired … badly. He’d hoped to humiliate President Obama and congressional leaders by challenging a bipartisan budget bill as a way to show his anger over Obama’s executive actions on immigration, but, instead, his maneuver was handily defeated and gave Senate Democrats the opportunity to put several judicial and executive nominees up for a vote before Republicans took control of the chamber.

Thanks for helping the Democrats, Ted!

Ted’s previous Horse’s Ass win in 2013 was due to his spearheading the opposition to a constitutional amendment to overturn the Supreme Court’s 2010 Citizens United decision by falsely claiming that the amendment would throw comedians in jail and muzzle pastors.

He also threatened civil disobedience to block the enforcement of LGBT rights measures, introduced new measures to prevent marriage equality, said same-sex marriage is “heartbreaking” and causes his heart to weep and alleged that LGBT rights laws will put pastors in prison.

Cruz also stood by lawless rancher Cliven Bundy , notorious for his racist remarks and refusal to recognize the U.S. government’s authority, while at the same time torpedoing the nomination of a noted civil rights attorney , whom he accused of “fanning…flames of racial tension.”

Cruz also wants to go to war with net neutrality , although he doesn’t seem to have a clue about what net neutrality actually means.

Ted Cruz, a Horse’s Ass and an ISBL Asshat; what an honor.

via RightwingWatch

Starting Monday Off With A Laugh ... And By 'Laugh,' I Mean Fox News

The good folks … how’s that for high-larity … over there at Fox News thought it would be fun to ask the Twitter-sphere to celebrate the demise of 2014 by #hashtagging what they were “:over” for the New Year.

As usual, Twitter responded by taking down Fox News after that dim-bulb-blonde-who-couldn’t-keep-a-job-at-The-View Tweeted that she was “over attacks on Christianity.”

I’m still trying to figure out who’s attacking Christianity, unless it’s people simply asking Christians to leave their religion out of there publicly run businesses, but I digress.

Here’s what some of the Twitterers told Fox:

via NCRM

The "Don't Jerk And Drive" Ad Has Been Yanked

Okay, so we all know you should never drink and drive; and we’ve all seen the ads out now that say you shouldn’t text and drive. But, out there in South Dakota, they apparently had a different kinda problem with driving and so they created a … wait for it … it’s amazing … Don’t Jerk and Drive campaign.

And so they pulled … for lack of a better word, or at least a more punny word … the ad because, well, masturbation.

Here’s the statement from Trevor Jones, Secretary, S.D. Dept. Of Public Safety [DPS]:

I decided to pull the ad. This is an important safety message and I don't want this innuendo to distract from our goal to save lives on the road.

Innuendo? Is that code for something else South Dakotans are doing on the road when they aren’t jerking?

The PSAs, which appeared on billboards around the state, were supposed to "grab the attention of drivers" about the dangers of navigating snowy roads. The Office of Highway Safety took a whack at double entendre to spark interest in the campaign, but it rubbed a lot of folks the wrong way, and so the ad was yanked.

Just like you wouldn’t want young male drivers to “adjust the antenna” while driving.

Just like you wouldn’t want young male drivers to “blow their own horn” while driving.

Just like you wouldn’t want young male drivers to “clean their rifle” while driving.

A stroke of genius, I might add.

Congressman Mike Verchio, a Republican who chairs the House Transportation Committee, said he heard from several citizens who were upset about the ad … especially the social media hashtag #DontJerkAndDrive.

Ya think?

More than 16,000 people saw the campaign on Twitter in its first week, and page views at the DPS's Facebook page jumped to over 30,000 since the campaign launched, outperforming previous public safety campaigns 25 to 1.

Cuz, you know, the whole jerking thing.

So the ad was pulled, and pulled and pulled from every single site it was on. You'd think South Dakotans would be against "choking the chicken" while driving, but it appears they are far more open-minded than previously thought. 

So the ad is gone; no more sticky PR mess to clean up.

source

Rub-A-Dub-Dub ... Escorts In A Tub

One night, after partying together at a South Carolina gay bar—and yes, there are gay bars in South Carolina … or there is gay bar … I digress—three men went out for a little, um, hot tub fun.

Eighteen-year-old Austin Adams [below right] and 33-year-old Michael Gordon [below center] went together to that Spartanburg nightclub, where they met 21-year-old Douglas Tench [below left], who had come down from Charlotte to go to a gay club in Spartanburg.

After several drinks Tench left  with Adams and Gordon, for a home Boiling Springs—and the hot tub in Boling Springs … you cannot make this stuff up—where Gordon was dog sitting; the three men began to, ahem, “enjoy each other’s company” in said hot tub. But the party ended when the three men started to quarrel … over which one was the higher paid escort.

Oh, but they did. Adams told the arresting deputy that he “lost control” when Tench “stated he got paid more for his escort services than Adams.” Adams admitted to hitting and kicking Tench while they were in the hot tub before Tench jumped out of the hot tub and ran to a house across the street, where he called a friend who, in turn, dialed 911.

After confessing to assaulting Tench, Adams asked the deputy to “just arrest him and get it done with,” and so he was charged with simple assault; Gordon and Tench were also arrested for providing alcohol to a minor escort.

Lesson to be learned: don’t brag about your escort coins in a hot tub with other escorts?

That’s all I got.

source

Photo of the Week

I am not much of a fan of Robert Pattinson,. best known, and only known to me, as the Glittering Vampire in the Twilight series. But some people do have a thing for him, even, I imagine with his new haircut.

Here he looks like he needs a good shampoo and a brush ...

... then he turned around to give us this ...

... which only made me think of this:

Wedding Week Repost: Tie Him Up! Tie Him Down!

In a couple of days we'll become Mister and Mister ... not to be confused with that last century pop group Mr. Mister, so here's another one of those Carlos Stories that y'all seem to like.

There are millions from which to choose, but this one, from August 2009, is a personal favorite.

Tie Him Up! Tie Him Down!

Sunday was errand day at Chez Smallville. Carlos had to work an HIV presentation on Saturday, and then we met up for a late dinner at a Smallville bistro we like, so our usual Saturday errands were pushed back a day. But it was supposed to be hot, so we decided to keep it simple. Groceries at Kroger and a quick stop for weed killer and spray nozzles for the garden hoses at the Homo Depot.

That is not a misspelled word. It's HOMO Depot.

We parked near the garden center and went in. Carlos is hypnotized by plants and he began to wander off like he's found the mother ship and it's time to go home. I shout after him, "I'm going inside to get the things we need. Stay out here and I'll be right back."

The best laid plans.

I get the weed killer. I get the spray nozzles -- which look like fazers....phasers?....from Star Trek, and I head back out to plant central to pick up Carlos.. he isn't there. I wander around the aisles of plants and pavers and trellises....ooh, I want to put a trellis up against the side of the garage....keep moving. No Carlos.

I whistle for him. I know, he's not a dog, but in Miami we had a cat named Voncie who would come running if I whistled a certain way, and now Carlos and I use it when we can't find the other one of us. So, I whistled. No Carlos.

I go back inside the Homo Dept to the weed killer aisle thinking he went to find me. No Carlos. I go outside to where they keep the spray nozzles thinking he's waiting there. No Carlos. I whistle. No Carlos.

I head to the cashier and pay for my things and walk out to the car. Would he have gone back to the car? No Carlos.

I head back inside whistling out loud and cursing to myself. Weed killer. No Carlos. Hoses. No Carlos. Plants. No Carlos. I was thisclose to going inside and telling a cashier that I had lost my little girl, Carlotta, and having them page him for me, when I see him sauntering toward me.

I've been looking for you, I said.

I found some drapes, he told me.

Drapes.

Weed killer. Spray nozzle. Plants.

Nope, not a mention of drapes at all....oh wait......over breakfast he said we needed new drapes for the sunroom.

Drapes.

I saw a video earlier this week of a mother literally dragging her son by a leash through a Circuit City or Best Buy or something. At the time I thought it was horrendous. Now I'm not so sure. I'm thinking we should stop at Pet Smart and get Carlos fitted for a leash.

That was Sunday in Smallville.

Wedding Week Repost: Make The Yuletide Gay

Yes, I know it's not Christmas yet, but since we're getting married this week, I'm gonna post one because it looks like a party.

I love a good happy jolly Christmas story and since I didn't have one I thought I'd repost this ....

Make The Yuletide Gay

So we decorated the tree last night. I had one of those days of running around, Post Office, bank, store, cook dinner, do the laundry, sweep, clean.....a real CinderFella, I am. And so the mood soured as the day went on. I hauled the box with the tree inside it — yeah,it's fake, okay, I got lots a pine trees in my yard so why do I need another one left to die in my living room?

Yeah, it's that kind of mood. Anyway, I got the tree, the ornaments, the garland, the lights, for inside and out, all out of the garage while Carlos was at work. He came home, and of course said I should have waited for him to get the tree out of the garage.

Wait for you, I sneer, Then we wouldn't have a Christmas tree up until Easter.

Man, I can be a bitch! It's like Joan Crawford and the PepsiCo Brad.

Don't fuck with me, fella. This isn't my first time at the rodeo.

So we eat dinner first, a delicious baked chicken breast, over rice with black beans, corn, tomato, poblano pepper, and a green mole. Delicoso! Then I change into my jackboots and Nazi uniform, because I am a tyrant about the tree. I don't know where it comes from, but there it is.

Put the little ones on the inside! It gives the tree more depth.

I'm Martha Freakin' Hitler. More depth? What in the hell does that even mean?

No, you have to put some on the bottom.

Go to the OTHER side.

Put 'em on the back.

Not those! Theeeeeeeeeeeeeeese!

I goosestep around the tree, inspecting it, moving one ornament from branch to branch. We ran out of ornament hangers and Carlos walks away for a few minutes; he returns with a box of.......paper.....clips.

Paper clips! We are white trash. At last. Next year I think I'll get a stapler and a glue gun. Not for the tree, for Carlos.

Why not just string tin foil and plastic wrap around the tree, It's shiny and purty!

You put two blue ones side-by-side.

You have three on ONE branch!

You are not allowed to decorate the tree next year.

Of course Carlos, being the sweetest human being ever, simply smiles at my, well, histrionics, shall we say; my order barking. My just plain barking. My snapping. My yelling. My being a big old raging bitch. Tis the season! I need an egg nog, with extra nog, if you get my meaning.

Finally, finished. And without bloodshed. Well, Carlos bled a little when he jabbed his finger with a hanger, but I was out of the room, I swear. The cats will vouch for me! We light up the tree and sit and relax. It does look pretty but it needs more ornaments. I say that every year and every year we buy more and put them on. Pretty soon we'll do without the tree all together and just pile the ornaments in the corner and call it Christmas.

Sorry I snapped, I say.

It's okay, he mutters, his lower lip jutting out like a shelf.

Where's my gun?

That's a joke...........I don't have a gun.

Hmmmm. Maybe Santa will bring me one.

Photo of the Week

I have no words .....

Photo of the Week

Kim Kardastrophe-West in another ridiculous looking get-up. 

I knew that sooner or latter this serial marrying fame-whore would jump the shark, but never guessed she'd get caught up in a tuna net.

Seriously Kim. What the hell is this supposed to be?

Photo of the Week

I love Downton Abbey.

I'm a sucker what is essentially a soap opera about English aristocracy in the early part of last century.

But what I love most is the attention to detail; the costumes; the actual homes, er, castles that are used as sets; the old English villages that haven't changed at all and are used as backdrops; the costumes.

I loved this promo picture sent out ahead of the next season of the DA because I loves me some Lord Grantham and Edith Grantham and ... Wait.

WTF is that? 

A plastic water bottle on the mantle?

The Dowager Countess will not be amused.

Whaddya You !@#*% Mean You Can't Swear In Mother@#!&*% South $#*@ Carolina?

Last week Danielle Wolf was at her local North Augusta, South Carolina Kroger store when she was overheard telling her own children to, ahem, “Stop squishing the f**king bread.”

And she was arrested for it. Hands cuffed behind her back, and taken out to a patrol car and placed in the “rear caged area” for dropping an F-bomb in the bread aisle.

Danielle Wolf denies that she was speaking to her children, and said she was talking to her husband instead but, under a local city ordinance, a person commits “disorderly conduct” when they “[u]tter, while in a state of anger, in the presence of another, any bawdy, lewd or obscene words or epithets.”

Man. If that was the law at my local Kroger I’d probably be on Death Row by now for foul language in a food store.

Some folks are arguing that Danielle Wolf’s arrest is unconstitutional because in 1971, in the case of Cohen v. California, the Supreme Court stated that “the State has no right to cleanse public debate to the point where it is grammatically palatable to the most squeamish among us.”

Unconstitutional, sure; stupid, definitely.

Still, I might start checking myself while squeezing melons at the grocery store this week because, well, South Carolina … 

via Think Progress

Feud: Mama Grizzly Bore™ vs. The Washington Post

It used to be good being the Mama Grizzly Bore™. Sure, she blew John McCain’s’ lest, best, shot at ever living in the White House and yes, she quit her job as Governor of Alaska because all those questions about her lack of ethics were making things hard for her. But, she had a base of support, mostly wingnuts, illiterates and Teabaggers, or any combination thereof,  and so she could host a reality show and “write” a book and get paid a couple of bucks to speak here and there. But, this summer just might be the summer of the MGB’s™ discontent.

See, even her base of loons and nut-monkeys turned on her when she began her rabid Impeach Obama talk — and if the loons and nut-monkeys turn on you, well, you better sit down — and then a poll came out in which the majority of Americans, and not just the liberal elite Hollywood types with their cement ponds and fancy cars, picked her as  the person they most want to see shut up and go away; I won’t mention that I’ve been saying that since late summer 2008, m’kay?

And she just recently came up with her own media channel, dubbed by some as the Blamestream Media, which is more expensive and far less interesting ort newsworthy than NetFlix.

So, I feel for her ... I kid.

See, now MGB™ has gone on the attack against the Washington Post on her Facebook page, calling WaPo reporters “a bunch of wusses” too scared to investigate Obama:

“The public knows of our current president’s incompetence, denials, and cover-ups, but would be well served if we could count on your resources to dig deep for truth in all matters pertaining to Team Obama.

…

The list of Obama abuses and impeachable offenses is long. I challenge you to lift a finger and help protect democracy, allow justice for all, and ensure domestic tranquility by doing your job reporting current corrupt events fairly. If not, you prove yourselves incompetent and in bed with Obama, not caring one iota about media integrity.

Those running the Washington Post’s show now, compared to those during the Nixon era, are too afraid of being uninvited to the permanent political class’ cocktail parties and petty gossip fests, making you all a bunch of wusses. I challenge you to get to work.

…

To reclaim your credibility (and the mainstream media’s, at large), I challenge you to engage in the same aggressive investigative journalism you courageously employed 42 years ago covering President Nixon.”

Sadly, MGB™ who infamously could not name one single newspaper she read when being interviewed by Katie Couric in 2008 — I guess she doesn’t think The National Enquirer counted — picked on the wrong paper with which to tangle.

Responding to MGB’s™ ludicrous, and, at times, childish, rebuke, the Washington Post expressed surprise that Palin actually reads a newspaper, even if they are “circa the early 1970s.” And then they said this:

“Way to blast that Washington Post!

One problem though: The post in which you blast the Washington Post sits about ten posts above this July 20 Facebook post of yours, which starts with these words:

Obama Knew of Border “Crisis” Prior to Reelection; Lied About That, Too!

The Washington Post has a bombshell article out about how “top officials at the White House and the State Department had repeatedly been warned of the potential for a further explosion in the number of migrant children since the crisis began escalating two years ago.

Bold text added to note a contradiction in your timeline. In one Facebook post, you’re calling The Post wussies, and in an earlier one, you’re crediting its reporting for exposing a policy failure of the Obama administration. It’s not really a big deal, though. One remedy would be to delete the post that congratulates The Post for its July 19 story on the early warnings about the border crisis. Another remedy would be to amend your Post-slamming post to say something along the lines of: “You’ve fallen like a lead balloon, except for that sweet story last week about how the Obama administration had ample warning of the border crisis, as well as any other Obama administration-critical stories that I missed on account of my documented failure to read newspapers.”

A third approach would be to leave things as they are, on the safe assumption that no one looks to you for consistency anyhow.”

Oh MGB™. Schooled and read by the Washington Post.

source

Separated At Birth ... Or the Plastic Surgeon's Office

One of these women is Eurydice Colette Clytemnestra Dido Bathsheba Rabelais Patricia Cocteau Stone, more commonly known as Patsy Stone, a creation by Joanna Lumley for the BBC series Absolutely Fabulous, while the other is Ivana Trump, a creation by Donald Trump.

Hard to tell sometimes .... 

Facebooking ....

Photo of the Week: One of These Things Is Not Like The Others

Try as she might, via all that plastic surgery and all those designer clothes and all those expensive fashion shoots, Kim Kardastrophe will never be a model .... unless you could suck the fat from her ass and lodge it into the soles of her feet to make her about a foot-and-a-half taller.

Perhaps she should just go ahead and audition for a Hobbit role in a Lord of the Rings remake.

Just sayin'.

Random Musings

Out in Indiana, anti-equality GOP Governor Mike Pence — who might make a run at the White House in 2016 — issued a memo ordering state agencies not to recognize the hundreds of same-sex marriages that took place in the brief period when marriage equality was legal and before a stay was ordered.

Asshat. And I cannot wait for what he’ll say, or how he’ll spin it, when the courts order equality to stand. How quickly might he change his tune in his bid at the presidency?

Flip-flopping asshatted tool.

Speaking of marriage ….

Last weekend I updated my Facebook status to tell friends and family that Carlos and I would be getting married this October:

Well, after fourteen looooooooong years together, Carlos and I have decided that, in the words of the immortal Barbra Streisand and Donna Summer, "Enough is enough is enough is enough is enough is enough ... it's enough" and we will be getting married this October. Who would ever saw that coming, eh?

And we received some lovely wishes from friends and family all over the globe, but there was one message that was, well, unexpected and eerie.

I noticed that I had a couple of personal messages and checked them out. One was from a friend just wanting to chat, but the other was just a smiley face ,,, from my sister.

Now, to be clear, the simple smiley face was sent by my sister as a sign-off to a chat we’d had back in December, two months before she passed away; and I had seen it back then, but how wonderfully eerie and sweet that, for whatever reason, it was once again listed as a new message right after I announced that Carlos and I were gettin' hitched?

My big sister is still looking out for me …

Oh geez, won’t this woman ever go away?

It seems that after The View fired Jenny McCarthy and Sherri Shepherd, the Mama Grizzly Bore™ weighed in the topic suggesting that she would be a good addition to the program.

Asked by a reporter — possibly from the lame-stream media she says she loathes — if she had any interest in doing a "political talk show," MGB™ replied, "I hear everyone recently got canned from 'The View,' maybe a show like that needs a punch of reality and a voice of reason from America's heartland to knock some humble sense into their scripts. You know, someone willing to go rogue."

By rogue she means, put the final nail in the coffin of a show that should have died years ago.

I am a goofball. I like to make jokes all the time, about anything and everything; sometimes cute little jokes and sometimes the most offensive things imaginable just to get a reaction out of people.

Carlos, on the other, while he has a fabulous sense of humor, isn’t so keen on being a goofball and the other night I tried to break him out of that shell.

See, there’s a commercial for Tropicana orange juice where you hear Debbie Reynolds and Donald O’Connor sing “Good Mornin’” from  Singing in the Rain  and I always, always, sing along with it, adding some jazz hands for effect.

The other night I asked Carlos to sing it with me and he refused. I begged, pleaded, cajoled, threatened and he still said ‘No.’

I accused him of being uptight, and he uttered, in a somewhat high-pitched voice tinged with an English accent:

“I am not upt-i-i-i-i-ght.”

I said, “Who are you supposed to be? Dame Judy Dench?”

He said, “Maybe.”

I said, “Sounds more like Dame Judy Clench.”

PS I’m still waiting for him to sing to me.

Last week Pope Frankie met with six victims of pedophile priests; his first such meeting since becoming The Head Cheese last year. He said that Catholic bishops "will be held accountable" for failing to protect children from sexual abuse, but made no move as to how this would work, leading many, including myself, to think this was just a media moment and means nothing in the long run.

Sure, I’m cynical about the Catholic Church protecting children from priests who rape them, but that’s because they haven’t shown any action at all in that area. It’s all lip service, though I am hoping Pope Frankie proves me wrong.

Madonna was called to jury duty this week in New York and appeared an hour late — some say she was told to show up late to avoid the crowds and the sensation that a fading pop singer who fails to act her age, might receive.

Madge, who had been excused in May thanks to a doctor’s note :::coughcough::: plastic surgeon :::coughcough:::  was surrounded by her security team as she entered the clerk’s office and not the regular jury assembly room. She was immediately excused because there were ‘ample jurors’ and she was also bypassed because her presence was causing a commotion.

Watch licking her armpits again? Calling her son the N-word? Posting a dozen or some Photoshopped pictures to Instagram? Because that would be Madge on jury duty; it would be all about her.

So, I watched some of the World Cup these past weeks, though without the fervor of most in the world, and many in this country; I do, however like, all the man-on-man groping and kissing and tugging down of the shorts, making the games seem almost soft-core porn.

Speaking of which …

I often caught ESPN’s panel of experts talking about the games and the winners and losers and there, right in the middle, was one gorgeous man, whom I assumed, because of his coloring was Latino—and you all know how I feel about the Hispanic Mens.

Michael Ballack was his name, and he was a former soccer player from Germany. Yes, he looks Hispanic but he’s German.

And oh so delicious.

Enough with the actual games, give me more recaps.

Julie Bindel — don’t worry, I never heard of her either — wrote a book called  Straight Expectations in which she argues that sexual orientation is a choice.

Well, except for her, I guess, because she said this …

“All I know is I’ve never been convinced by a scientific argument, or seen any evidence that is compelling that there is something innate about our sexuality. What I’m suggesting is, there are people who could go one way or the other and happily choose to be lesbian or gay.”

And then she said this about her choosing to be gay …

“Because I needed to leave home – there was nothing there for me in Darlington – and pursue my feminist possibilities, that meant starting a new life and all that was open to me. I fell in with a crowd [in Leeds] who spoke about lesbianism as part of women’s liberation. I never chose to be attracted to women.”

Huh. So she says I chose to be gay because there is no proof that it could be any other way and then says she didn’t choose it at all.

Siddown asshat.

District Court Judge C. Scott Crabtree on Wednesday ruled that Colorado’s 2006 voter-approved ban violates the state and federal constitutions. He immediately put his ruling on hold pending an appeal.

Welcome to equality Colorado.

The march goes on …

This one makes me laugh … because, well, dumb.

Liberal Democratic Russian Parliament Member Roman Khudyakov has asked Russia’s Central Bank to change the 100 ruble note because, according to him, it “clearly” shows Apollo’s genitals and that runs afoul of Russia’s ban on exposing children to The Gays.

Khudyakov  complained that “intimate parts of the body” were visible on the banknote, which he says should have an “18+” rating under the anti-gay law.

I thought this was the height of stupidity, thinking that a statue on a piece of money would make the children gay but then I learned that in 2011 the real statue of Apollo, at the Bolshoi Theatre in Moscow, was also censored when the exposed genitals were covered by a fig leaf.

Khudyakov doesn’t seem to think that Apollo’s microscopic penis on the currency might encourage lesbians to go straight.

Seriously.