Let's be a cozy Friday night for a 50-something lesbian couple

I'm the sound of Kim's suburu rattling up the driveway.

I'm the amaranth tabbouleh.

I’m the hum of the mobility device zipping from room to room. Alternatively, I’m the click, click, click of the cane echoing across the vinyl flooring.

I'm the 6-pack of O'Doul's (because I'm supporting Kris' two-week sobriety anniversary.)

I'm Margaret, the new rescue cat.

I'm Kris' unfinished pottery project. (It's still on the dining table, goddamn it.)

I'm the couch dress we bought at the women's shelter thrift store last August.

I'm the over-sized softball jersey that is starting to feel snug.

I'm the bottle of Chardonnay Kris is opening in the kichen.

I'm the argument that will ensue a mere twenty minutes after the vanilla candles have been lit.

I’m the bag of ice for Chris’ sore knees. I probably wouldn’t be needed if I lost at least 15 pounds.

I'm their favorite episode of Xena that will be popped in the DVD player later.

I'm the conference call with the sliding-scale counselor because "You fucking promised to work on this relationship, Kris."

I'm Kris's nutty ex Beth Ann, peeking at them through the window

I'm the new couple that's been married for a month.

One half of the couple was with her prior wife for 30 years, and she died of cancer in December. She couldn't be alone for more than 3 minutes, so here they are!

I'm the missing keychain with 30 keys on it (that fell in between the cushions on the couch Kris found on Craigslist.)

I'm the Trader Joes cinnamon streusel coffee cake.

I'm the urn next to the front door. I contain the ashes of Kris' father.

I'm Kris answering all the Wheel of Fortune questions before I even get a chance to goddamn look at them!

I'm the AA meeting Kris seems hell-bent to blow off tonight.

I'm Kris' first slurred word of the night.

I'm the 1997 issue of "Scroll Saw, Woodworking & Crafts" next to the toilet.

R2, errr. There was never any doubt in my mind that Shannon Miller would turn into the biggest frau who ever fraued.

I'm the pager going off on Kris' workbelt.

R3, that's not the only device humming tonight.

We're catching up on The Crown tonight, and drinking beer and margaritas. We don't refer to ourselves as "I" and we only use "we" and "our" and the plural "you" for our pronouns. That way our gender identity is neutral.

I'm the acoustic guitar by the pool table, missing the low E and G strings.

I'm the pile of unpaid bills on the microwave that we won't even bother to look at until Kris gets her settlement.

I am the sneaky call Kris makes to Pat, her ex.

I'm the dry cleaning that Kris forgot to pick up...again!

I'm the Walking Dead episodes we won't be bingeing because SOMEONE fucked up the TIVO. Again!

I'm the snug camo sweatpants Kris wears to give her ass more symmetry.

I'm the receipt from Home Depot still laying on the kitchen counter since yesterday.

I'm the Shawn Colvin cd we put in after the cassette player jammed.

I'm Kris, pretending I didn't drink 3/4 of the Chardonnay already, ignoring a call from my AA sponsor.

I'm the TV in the living room. Shortly Kris and her babe will be snuggling with beers in hand, and watching me as LIFE BELOW ZERO comes on as they're fixated on Sue Aikens

I'm the Pornhub app on Kris's phone, wisely set to the generic-looking icon/label option. Kim is only interested in woke, boring, "life-affirming" sex, but Kris is dying to spice things up and porn is her outlet for furtively blowing off steam.

Honestly, would it KILL Kim to at least try ass play or an honest-to-god orgy once in her life?

I'm Bonnie Raitt, who has replaced Shawn Colvin on the cd player.

I’m the strawberry lube that’s going to be poured over a frozen waffle in the morning. Hey, at least now I’m not going to waste.

I'm the expired nutri-system food containers from that one time Liz tried to get in decent shape before the cruise.

I am the boundaries

I’m the signed copy of Carole King’s Tapestry hung proudly in an album frame purchased at IKEA.

There are some keen observers of Human Nature on this thread...

Kris, scanning through the TV channel guide, loudly blurts out "what the hell is this RuPaul's Drag Race? I was looking for NASCAR."

I'm the 50-something gay guy (but looks like 25) who'll never have cozy evenings with anybody but his cat.

Kris and I disagree on the top two women's college basketball teams. I say they are UCONN and Mississippi State. She says Baylor and Notre Dame.

I'm the clueless but curious married lady from next door, dropping by to return Kris and Kim's dogeared copy of "The Enchanted Broccoli Forest"......

I'm the one who thought naming a kid Lazer was a good idea.

We're the cute gay couple across the street who received a gift bag of Dunkin' Donuts ground coffee from Kris and Kim last Christmas. We decided it was best not to reciprocate and develop the neighborly relationship.

I'm the sex drawer, no one ever looks in me anymore.

[quote]I'm the Pornhub app on Kris's phone, wisely set to the generic-looking icon/label option. Kim is only interested in woke, boring, "life-affirming" sex, but Kris is dying to spice things up and porn is her outlet for furtively blowing off steam.

[quote]Honestly, would it KILL Kim to at least try ass play or an honest-to-god orgy once in her life?

Do you even know any women, let alone lesbian ones?

I'm the mechanical bull in the foyer.

I'm the CPAP machine that's on its last legs.

I'm the letters in a desk drawer from the gay males we helped through the scourge of the early AIDS crisis when no one else would that are occasionally taken out and read when we're feeling especially hopeless.

This is the funniest shit I've read in a long time. Jesus.

How can you people be so cruel.

I'm telling you now.

I'm the box of Chardonnay Kris is opening in the kitchen.

I'm Robin Roberts tit in a jar. Nance-He stole it from the lab she worked in and gave to Kris last Christmas. Great conversation piece.

I am the massive flea market complex. It's Saturday morning, and Kim & Kris will be visiting shortly after finishing breakfast at IHOP.

I'm the deep regret Kris feels for falling off the wagon last night.

I'm the day hike Kris promised to take with Kim today. But Kris' fibromyalgia is flaring up.

I'm the pre-Grease Olivia Newton John album collection

I’m the overbaked nutloaf picked at moved around my plate in an attempt to avoid offending Kris.

I’m the call made to the Anti-Violence Project in the middle of the night after Kris battered her lover over the nutloaf dis.

I'm the bar of Lava soap by the sink which Kris uses to wash her hands after giving the Subaru an oil change.

Lot of psychopaths on this thread. Occasionally a funny comment, but most of these are only gratuitously mean and way off-base.

Do you know any lesbians, or do you just think they're all fat and unhappy, and that that's funny in itself?

Oh, for a classic Michfest-style thread instead. That was when creativity prevailed on DL.

I’m the dusty piece of, now chipped, pottery purchased at Womencrafts in Provincetown.

R67 - Leave. Now.

Ooh, someone's angry that not everyone is on board for scattershot, humor-free slams.

"Let's be" threads are usually much more perceptive and funny than this dreck.

I'm the Sarah Lawrence alumni monthly magazine on the IKEA coffee table being used as a coaster. Somewhere in the pile of other magazines is the Oberlin alum mag.

R70 - I'm sure you're a lovely person.

But on behalf of everyone here, I want you to know that we're just not that into you.

I'm the chain from the wallet Kris battered her with.

I'm the emergency chocolate Kim hides in the laundry room.

I'm the lesbians shrieking, "THATS NOT FUNNY" at this thread.

I'm the meltdown Kris is having at the Starbucks drive-thru when they tell her they're not serving Pumpkin Spice lattes this time of year.

I'm the animal hair covering every surface of the house and all of their clothes

I'm the innocent request to watch the Monster Truck Rally on ESPN2 that caused the battering.

I'm the pizza they'll end up ordering tonight when Kris fails to stop at the grocery store (because the Starbucks incident triggered her PTSD, and she barely had the energy to stop at Wendy's for a Frosty, much less shop for a week's worth of food.)

NOT THE FACE KRIS NOT THE FACE!

I'm the Anne Murray cassette Kris plays on her way home from Wendy's.

I'm the hair-covered washcloth in the bathroom that will soak up Kim's tears (and a little bit of blood).

I'm the confrontation in the driveway when Kris gets home and Kim demands an account of every minute of Kris' time away from her.

I'm the Marlboro Lights Kim is smoking on the deck, trying to cool down after yet another argument.

I'm the neighbor that just called the cops on these bitches. It's not the first time that I've had to do this.

I'm Kris playing dumb when Kim asks if she picked up her pack of Kools.

I'm Kim, logging on to the message board for crochet enthusiasts. I've been having an emotional affair with a woman from Saskatchewan on here for the past eight months.

I'm the nuns habit on a hanger in Kris' closet. I had to be washed often after the Mistress of Novices taught me the joys of Sapphiric desire.

I'm the big mess Kris makes when she accidentally kicks the cat's water bowl while making a beeline to the fridge for the bottle of Bartles & Jaymes she hid under the rhubarb in the crisper drawer.

R89 😂

The abusive relationship posts are especially telling since gay males are the most likely to be in an abusive relationship and lesbians the least likely.

R91 died of lesbian bed death decades ago. She's like Miss Havisham in flannel.

R91 W&W.

Oops, meant R92. Brilliant.

I'm the Amy! campaign pin that was left on the couch and poked Kris in the ass. That started everything on a bad note.

I’m the black ceiling in the bedroom from cigarette smoke.

I'm the 20 voicemail messages from Kris's mother. She needs to tell her about the birth of her latest grandchild. "YOU NIECE YOU SHOULD CARE!". That was a major trigger.

I'm from the vegan co-op, my name tag says Moon. Anyway, I like when Kris comes in. She knows me and always smiles.

I like her vibe. Maybe I should bring over some gluten free muffins.

I always love the lets be threads. Funny stuff with stereotype responses.

I'm DAY ONE of Kris' new sobriety pledge. This time it's gonna stick.

I’m MSNBC muted in the background. I’m on all day. Kris is apoplectic about this fake president!!!

I'm the minority stress. I play a big part in Kris' under-achieving and her constant "bad choices". She isn't even aware I exist.

I don't get why Kris thinks Rachael & Tommi-whatshername are better than Martha & Snoop.

I'm the Beth Ditto poster thumbtacked above the toilet.

I'm the nut loaf in freezer. Kim will bring me to the Al-anon potluck this Wednesday.

I'm Kris saying, "Let's just finish up all the remaining alcohol in the house so it won't tempt me, and then I'll go clean tomorrow. I promise," as she pours from that bottle of cheap spumante Gretchen gave them for Solstice.

I'm the endless processing.

Laying on the coffee table, we are the three brochures from different campgrounds near the Smokey Mountains whereby Kim and Kris plan to spend a week for an early summer vacation.

I'm Kim, purposely missing the ashtray, spilling ashes on the new FJÄLLBO coffee table from IKEA, triggering Kris' OCD from across the room.

I'm Susan, Kim's lesbian social worker friend who has tried to convince Kim to leave Kris.

I'm Kris' rape whistle that Kris is blowing at full volume as Kim continues to spill ash on their new coffee table.

I'm the Vicodin from Kim's dental surgery last fall, that Kris has purloined. I go so well with Kris' coffee (well half Bailey's, let's face it) in a pottery mug from the crafts faire at the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival.

I'm the old brochures for IVF, collecting dust in Kim's desk

I’m Kris’s unused maxi pads under the bathroom sink since she’s been menopausal

I'm Kris, swigging down the last of the spumante--straight from the bottle--while derisively reading outloud Kim's neglected New Year's resolutions (scribbled on the back of a Jenny Craig calorie chart.)

I'm the chainsaw-art totem pole in the front yard.

I’m the spray hose on the kitchen sink where Kim and Kris shampoo their cats.

I'm the recovery worksheets passively aggressively posted to the fridge with the Rosie the Riveter magnet collection.

I’m the flannel shirt in the closet that Kris’ first lover Janice gave to her at her first abortion rights march.

I’m the MJ record We Are the World spinning thru Kris’ head as We are lesbines We are rug munchers We are butch dykes who work with power tools so let's start scissoring There's a choice we're making to eat beaver every night we'll strap it on and be the man in the 🏳️‍🌈community

I'm the sudden urge to pop a packet of Orville Redenbacher!

I'm Kris starting the Durflame log. I know it's going to send out tiny sparks to make little burn holes in Kim's new carpet. She should have consulted me on the color.

I'm Jennifer, the 40ish built bottle blonde recent divorcee who works with Kim and has "experimented" and I'm dropping in to get a little closer to her.

I've brought a bottle of amber rum as well as a few bottles of sugar cane Coca Cola to keep Kris busy. I'll tell them the rum was a gift from my brother from his trip to Martinique or something. "Me? What do I know about licquor? Or should I say liqueur?" If Kim or, heaven forbid Kris, notices it's domestic, i'll roll my eyes and say something like, "men are such LIARS. Best thing I ever did was get divorced."

Come to think of it, I HOPE Kris notices. Then I can play dumb about booze again and kiss her ass playing up to her superior knowledge of all things spirits, the fucking drunk. I hope for a knowing, bewildered glance from Kim.

An eleven year old is old enough to look after an eight year old all night. Right?

I'm the CD of Yes I Am that Jennifer has been listening to in her LeBaron all week to build up the courage to come over tonight.

I'm Melissa Etheridge, taking a crap on a Sisterhood is Powerful tee shirt under the futon in the guest /craft room. I'm a cat, not the actual singer! Brandi Carlile is asleep on the loom. Again, cat.

I'm the cat hair in the salsa.

I’m the Birkenstock’s that Kris slips on when she runs outside to smoke a cigarette.

I'm the Trader Joe's black bean dip in the fridge with only a little bit of mold.

127 and 129. I do not know why. But I just spit out my gin and tonic laughing. A long week I guess. But damn, that belly laugh was needed. Thank you. (Cat hair in the salsa......... fucking genius). Lol. Sorry. Carry on.

I'm the $200.00 worth of losing scratchies Kim just through in the trash. Her dreams of getting out have died for another day.

I'm Kim's ex (Mavonne) who just called to borrow money to replace the clutch on the Karmann Ghia they used to own together.

I'm the dental implants Kim got a few years back, the same year she finally ditched the mullet.

Kris makes fun of the slight speech impediment I gave Kim and calls Kim "Clarice Starling" behind her back.

What's with the shit music OP?

Sorry, wrong thread

I'm the Joan Armatrading cd Kris plays to drown out Kim when she goes on a rant demanding:

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me to change the time on the alarm clock! Now I missed the Skype session with my curling club. Jesus christ."

I'm the wall clock over the dinette. Kris ordered me online.

I'm Kris's first day of sobriety, for real this time. No more empty promises.

I'm the Pumpkin Spice Coffee-Mate that Kim gives to Kris as a peace offering.

I'm the undiagnosed borderline personality disorder.

I'm the cat hair in the morning after omelette.

I'm the kitchen counter on Saturday morning, after the latest Friday night blow-out argument.

Fuck you Kris, YOU can clean it up!

I'm Kim, already trembling, when I think of the yearly effort to dye Easter Eggs.

I'm the tea cozy Kris keeps trying to finish crocheting every time she gets drunk.

I'm the clueless but curious lady from next door, popping by this morning to see what's going on. "Everything OK here? I heard crashing last night - it sounded like a homemade pottery mug being hurled through a stained glass window!"

I'm a few drops of oil from the cats' sardine can added to the diffuser, to set the mood...

OMG R146! You bitch! LOL!!!!

I'm the Walgreens automated phone calls reminding Kris that her Lithium and Clonazepam prescriptions are ready.

I'm an unused dental dam, gathering dust on the nightstand.

We're Kim's co-workers. Monday morning, Kim will tell us that she and Kris had a quiet weekend. We don't believe her.

I'm the CBD oil Kim has delivered to her P.O. box. It keeps her off the knife's edge.

I'm the inevitable black eye.

I’m Kim’s mom. I’m calling to let Kim know that her old high school sweetheart Brian will be in town next weekend to visit his parents. Oh and he just happens to be available. I know that if Kim just got it good from a man she’d leave this cold known as Kris and start giving me my damn grandchildren!!

I’m the dream catcher hanging from the rear view mirror of the RV in the driveway which hasn’t been driven in years.

I'm Kim's bra. I haven't been worn in six days because that's when she last left the house.

[quote]I'm an unused dental dam...

I'm starting to think that many of you only know lesbians through things written by straight people or other gay men. Or, perhaps, considering this post, safe sex health pamphlets.

I'm the safe sex pamphlet from 1983.

I'm an unopened bottle of Chardonnay.

How long will I stay this way?

I'm the fruit enfused, low impact weed in the vape for later in the evening.

I’m Kris’ nail file. I want to make sure Kris doesn’t hurt Kim.

I'm the scars that nobody sees.

Hello All - We're the Joan Armatrading an KD Lang CDs.

I'm the dog-eared paperback of Rubyfruit Jungle stashed on a bathroom shelf. Kim has been reading and re-reading me since 1988.

I'm the turkey baster.

We're Sharon and Jess. We've been arguing all afternoon about who gets to be the first to take this out on its initial run.

I'm the vagina incense burner on the nightstand.

I'm the Katherine Moennig fantasy they both hide.

I'm Audre Lorde and I approve this evening at home.

I'm Kim's compost bin made from reclaimed pallet wood.

I'm the feather down vest Kim will be using as a pillow tonight while she sleeps on the couch. Kris will not give her a pillow from one of the upstairs bedrooms. Plus Kris has put up the pet gate at the top of the stairs. There will be no sneaking into the guest room.

I’m Kris’ dirty used vibrator stuffed between the sofa cushions. She doesn’t know I’m here because she used me when she was drunk and passed out.

I'm the moon cup that melted in the dishwasher even though I came with "hand wash only" instructions.

I'm the massive dump Kris left in the toilet. She always forgets to flush me when she's reading Sports Illustrated on the crapper.

R173, girls don't poo!

I'm the weather-worn and faded rainbow flag limply hanging next to the front door.

I’m the mosquito bite on top of the HRC tattoo that Kris is absentmindedly scratching. It’s better that the mosquito bit her there instead of the newly applied Taco Bell logo tattoo on the other calf.

I'm the "Sorry We're Out Of Fucks" doormat on their front porch.

What's Kate Moennig doing these days, btw? She looked like a user.

Kris kept the doggy gate even though she brought kim's dalmatian puppy to the pound years ago.

I'm the Cunt Coloring Book Kim gave Kris for Valentine's Day.

r178 : she's been on Ray Donovan for years. Looking hot.

I'm Kris singing in the shower the morning after "everybody's doing it doing it. picking their ass and chewing it chewing it" She knows it puts kym on edge.

We’re the lawn chairs and cooler out by the porch! Pride season is coming up, and Kris & Kym can’t wait to pack us up into the Subaru Outlander and head down to the Asbury Park NJ Pride Festival, where Sophie B Hawkins will be performing on the main stage in the middle of a field. A blotchy, sunburned Kris will be about 7 Coors deep screaming along to “Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover” as Sophie looks out into the audience, locks eyes with a bleary, stumbling Kris and reevaluates her lot in life.

I'm the first dance at the reception after Kris and Kim's commitment ceremony in 1994.