Let's Be A Lesbian Fourth of July BBQ!

I'm Denise.

I'm Melissa Etheridge, manning (person-ing?) the grill, because the twilight of my career was long ago and I have nothing better to do. I'm trying to ignore the catcalls from these fat dykes and focus on my rosemary tofu skewers.

I'm the nutloaf, of course.

I'm the imitation meat everything. We don't eat things with eyes.

Except fish.

I'm the fire extinguisher on hand to prevent another catastrophe like the last time when Sara was twirling her vagina cape near the barbecue.

I'm these.

I'm simmering anger next to simmering tofu.

This thread is NOT funny.

I'm the fight that breaks out when Anne Burrell shows up with her fiancé Stuart

I’m Birkenstocks & Tevas, any other footwear choice is heresy.

[quote] This thread is NOT funny.

Nor was your boundary violating behavior last night when I was preparing the potato salad

I am not telling you what you did. You have to KNOW.

I’m the humorless, dry pussy, dead clit Dyke at R9

When it comes to humor: if Paula Poundstone wouldn’t say, I’d recommend you don’t say it.

I'm "Get Out The Map!" by Indigo Girls, the Official 4th Of July Lesbian BBQ Song!

I'm on the April 1998 Gap In-Store Playlist, too!

I'm the summer heat making Janeane Garofalo (am I even a lesbian? or just adjacent? anyway I'm attending) sweat her her hairpiece.

I'm Kimmy from Mont Belvieu, Texas and fuck y'alls fake ass meat! I brought pork ribs from the Chinese buffet!

I'm R7's failure to issue a trigger warning before posting those.

Their triggering phallicism has Deb locking herself in the bathroom.

I'm the list of "New Rules For Next Year" hastily written down after each and every grievance, skirmish, argument and micro-aggression at this years BBQ. Each year I get longer and longer!

I’m the toddler wading pool, to drink in under the glow of outdoor Edison bulbs.

I'm hummus. I was banned from these annual BBQs in 1998 due to issues in the Middle East being "problematic," to say the least.

Over the years we've slowly and begrudgingly allowed it back at the table. But we'd better not catch any of you actually enjoying it!

i'm the Stacy Abrams bumper sticker among the thirty other stickers on the back of Carol's Prius

I'm the 364 days since the last BBQ spent largely trying to decided to confront someone about an offense at last year's BBQ, or just "let it go." I still haven't decided!

I'm the one who loudly asks, 'Is there gluten in this?!'

I know damn well there's gluten in everything I'm asking about.

I'm Joan Jett and Indigo Girls on the iTunes!

I'm the BLM sheet cake.

I'm the 18 year old rescue pitbull who should have been put down 11 years ago. Well, 16 if you count the first biting rampage I went on. I'm wearing diapers, am blind, deaf and can't walk. My skin is infected, my toenails curled into the pads (even my veterinary water therapist won't touch my feet as my remaining teeth are like dirty needles and I still like to chomp. I'll be here in my wagon, stinking.

I'm Michelle Shocked in the background.

I’m the cane pile.

I'm the 157 lb hog that's been smoking on the pit since Tuesday.....I'm charred

I’m a sense of elegant style and fashion sense... I’m not here.

I'm proud body odors.

Why are so many lesbians vegan?

I’m a pug tank top with dog tags to accessorize.

I'm olives. Why did everyone bring sooo many olives?

I’m cigarettes. They’ll run out of me.

I’m constant PDA, without me for 10 seconds: relationships are doubted, enemies are eyed and paranoia sets in.

I'm the unshaved armpits the summer weather brings out into the open.

I'm Erin. I don't live here, but I've taken charge because I've slept over a few times, and the host is too high to question me. I know I don't look 60, which is why I can sense that the confused 23 year olds in the driveway want me. After I repeat my story from last year for the third time, somebody better find my smokes. Or shit is gonna get real.

I'm the handwoven gluten-free potato sacks and custom birchwood cornhole game Meridyth built all week and will be playing with by herself because she can't be trusted.

I'm the sense of surprise that lesbians would celebrate such a patriarchal holiday as the Fourth of July.

I mean, summer solstice, yes.

Im one of the 6 dogs running free. If i dont taste your food i will at least swat it with my tail.

I’m a heated political discussion. You’ve never seen so much virtue signaling in your life and no one can be liberal enough for this convo.

“Wait! A! God! Damn! Fucking! Minute! Patricia, are you telling me you don’t believe in the right to abortion past 6 months?!?!”

(R40) is one of those "college" lesbians.

I'm the deck Kris built herself. Did you know Kris built it herself? Did Kris tell you that yet? That she built it. Herself.

I'm the suppressed shock when Kathy and Tanya both arrive wearing heavy lipstick, rouge and eye shadow.

Until it's revealed all of the make-up was made with each other's dried menstrual blood.

I am the gal who is gonna KILL IT when I do my Missy Elliott song after we hook up the karaoke machine!

I'm white peaches from my own garden. I'm to be eaten under a full moon at midnight only. Nude.

I’m the youngest butch, all the lipsticks want me to fuck them hard, all the old bulls hate my guts.

R46 FUNKY WHITE SISTA!!!!!

I'm the endless talk of DIY home improvement projects.

I’m Noxzema Classic Clean Original Deep Cleansing Cream, once or twice a week in the shower. I AM THE SKINCARE ROUTINE. THE ONLY SKINCARE ROUTINE.

I'm the Donna Hopkins Band live on the deck singing "I'm Gonna U-Haul you back"

I’m the coat rack where everyone hangs their flannel shirts.

I’m “Stormy”, the slightly quiet newer lesbian of the group. I’ve had more sexual experience than all these dykes combined. I say I’m 36 but am actually 44. I’m a bit of a grifter. I put much effort into being slightly more feminine than anyone in the room because my entire shtick is attaching myself to a group of lesbians and pretending to be the inexperienced or questioning or confused or recently-divorced/broken-up from a man gal who’s very “fragile” from my recent, allegedly non-sapphic experience. I insist that “I’m fine! Really!” whole also claiming my non-existent ex-boyfriend beat and mistreated me. This ensures I’ll be the center of attention for the foreseeable future.

I will fuck each and every single one of these gals, multiple times. I will “date” one or two over the coming year or so, using the others for morale support and even housing refuge. I’ll share their secrets among them and embellish things they say about one another via “accidental” mentions. (“Oh PLEASE don’t tell Ronny I repeated that! I don’t think she REALLLY feels that way about Denise. I really shouldn’t have said anything, I was just worried Scout was upset with MEE for something..”) . I’ll stir up lots of drama, trigger feuds and sit back as they fight over and because of me. If my innocence is doubted or my position in the group placed in jeopardy, I will break down in tears, multiple times in front of everyone while dramatically proclaiming things like “This is all so NEW to me and I’m not as strong as you guys are!!!” - it will all continue for one, maybe two more Fourth of July BBQs until this clam clan catches on and resolves to exile me from their circle. Jokes on them though ‘cause by then, I’ll be safely embedded into my next coven of innocently clueless and love-starved lesbians!

I want that feature on streaming platforms yesterday, r54.

I'm the 50-something lesbian going on a 20-minute rant about appropriate types of humor while wearing a t-shirt that says "Jam Out With Your Clam Out!"

Is Charlize too strong for "Stormy"? Portia De Rossi?

I'm Patricia. I'm 65 and had to be rushed to the hospital while suffering a stroke after attempting laughter for the first time.

OP, I'm Kim's working tail light. I was fixed that same day, I don't know where you're getting your information from. After I was fixed, Kim felt like doing some more so she went around to each car and not only changed the oil, she inspected each vehicle for other issues, which if found, were fixed immediately. Kim knows her shit and easily puts the boys to shame on a daily basis.

I’m the bar, the only place Kim puts the boys to shame.

I'm really laughing a lot at this thread. Oops, can I say that?

I'm the country style garden and the wooden animals in the country style garden.

I'm the 2012 Justin Bieber. For some sick reason, half the dykes want to look like me and the other half want to fuck me.

I guess the right man really IS all it takes with lesbians!

I'm the 1994 Brad Pitt. Whenever the drunk lezzies get drunk enough, they start raving about "The ONE Man That Could Turn ME Straight!", which is always me. Just like Melissa and Ellen, you ALL admit you want me.

I’m frigidity.

Im the Filipina Dyke that brought Taco Bell

Maddie and I are bringing the large rocks to build the throwdown firepit in no time flat, way before you'll be ready to light the incense and spear the s'mores.

I’m the leg tattoo.

I am the tiresome tranny who got the barbeque cancelled cause the ladies will not suck my ladydicque.

I’m the poem Car wrote to honour our Founding Mother’s. it went down pretty well, except with Susan, an Elizabeth Warren lookalike who claims to be half Sioux.

I'm the tired misogyny of some bitter old queen.

I started this thread.

I am the bucket of KFC. It's not a Lesbian party without me as the mascot.

I'm the youngest butch at (R48), enjoying all the attention at the earliest starting, and ending, social event I've ever attended. By this time next year my hair will have grown out, and I'll be pregnant and married to the guy I was dating before I cut my hair short and started tending bar where you bitches hang out. Some of you will say "I knew it!" and some of you will say "Yeah, I fucked her." And while neither is true, there is still hope. Because another just like me will turn up. Every. Single. Year.

I'm the panties discarded on the bedroom floor. Susie is letting Ginnie eat her pussy, just for old time's sake, even though her Commitment Ceremony to Quinn was this Easter.

I'm the faded tattoos of dolphins on the cankles of all the ladies over 40 attending

If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect some actual lesbians are participating in this thread.

I think some lesbians have been live posting from their 4th of July BBQs.

I'm the can of FartBgone strategically placed in the downstairs WC by the considerate hostess.

Last year there was several embarrassing arguments due in part to the vegan diets.

I'm the time-honored tradition: a singalong to Big Boned Gal by kd lang.

I'm the U-Haul. Just in case.

I’m the party favor for each guest, a mask that says EAT PUSSY, NOT ANIMALS.

I’m the thin white t-shirt worn in lieu of a bra.

Tara and Angelina won't be attending this year.

Or any other year.

We're image consultants. We don't believe in labels.

r83

Did Right kill Left?

The one on the right with the sea-urchin haircut, R85

I’m pathological lying, an affliction of at least half of the attendees. I’ll help come up with pointless whoppers.

Kristi (who works in retail at an outdoor gear store, drives a 2003 Toyota Tacoma and lives in a garage apartment) says she has a Trust Fund... but you know she just doesn’t like to touch it.

Kelsey says she lived in Brooklyn for a few years, when she was about 20, where she owned a highly successful boutique vegan bakery and claims she had a highly secret affair with Zooey Deschanel.

None of this is even close to true.

r86

Thanks. I guessed correctly. The other one's facial expression did give me pause, though.

I’m the grease fire that all these bitches in attendance need to die in

I'm Camille Paglia. I'm author of the controversial and best-selling book Sexual Personae. I'm absolutely a feminist. The reason other feminists don't like me is that I criticize the movement, explaining that it needs a correction. Feminism has betrayed women, alienated men and women, replaced dialogue with political correctness. Okay?

No one at the BBQ under the age of 56 knows who I am.

I’m the faint suspicion that R90 actually is Camille Paglia. The ‘okay’ at the end gave it away. She actually does that. Okay.

I’m Bar, leaning forward and accidentally getting my Wiccan amulet necklace in the coleslaw.

We're Anne Heche, Julie Cypher, and Clementine Ford. We're having a Hasbians Independence Day BBQ just down the street. We like to taunt the sad dykes, pretending to make out with each other on the front porch.

Portia is joining us later!

I'm the nuLez's made up old boyfriend. Her description of me physically doesn't do me enough to justice. But the details of all my non abuse are quite exaggerated. She's like the worst fake lesbian girlfriend ever.

I'm the lesbian who's decided to transition. My announcement has added an extra level of anger to the evening.

I’m the sandalwood incense powerful enough to overpower the smell from the barbecue.

r93 And just WHY wasn't I invited?

I’m not here. I’ve been erased by the Trans.

I'm the pink napkins and cute plastic wineglasses with embedded glitter that Lou's new, young and lipstick partner (Tracee) brought to the party.

I’m Dollar Tree. My merchandise makes up 95% of items here from decór to food.

I’m the one who doesn’t drink alcohol. I’m having an herbal tea. There were twenty different kinds to choose from.

I’m Ang. I’m finding the meat is drying out a little but I can’t find the baster in the kitchen.

Hi Ang, here it is! I'll just give it a rinse out.

As you know, Shaz and I are trying for another kid and guess what? We finally got a great donar we both agree on!

R87 knows their shit. 70% of the Lezzies I know are truly compulsive liars. I don't know why it's that way, but for some reason it is Just That Way.

I'm the vacuum cleaner, taken out for the first time this year since guests were coming over. 'Tool of oppression, tool of oppression,' Jen mutters as she places me back in the closet.

I'm fibromyalgia. I'm all over this thread.

I'm the former nuns, now married. One is really fat.

OMG R107, is that a thing? I used to know two woman who were lovers and both said they met when they were Nuns.

Yes, Rose. They don't call it the CafoLick Church for nothing.

I'm rap sheets! More than a handful of us older ladies have served jail time, and even light prison sentences. The charges range from public intoxication, bodily assault, assault with a deadly weapon, stalking with intent to harm, and one passing bad checks. But the real charge? BEING A BADASS

[Quote]I'm the summer heat making Janeane Garofalo (am I even a lesbian? or just adjacent? anyway I'm attending) sweat her her hairpiece.

Would you care to diagram that sentence? Or, at the very least, decipher it?

Im the one who flirts with the gay men at the party by grabbing their crotch and look like little boy sending weird mixed messages. I go by a male name just to blur the lines even more. But the truth is I am a Grifter who sleeps with anyone that gives me a chance and then I wont leave their house until the cops come to kick me out.

I'm the conversation. Like on LChat one is to assume that all topics are off-limits, unless explicitly declared allowed.

I'm granola and I'm lonely. No one makes jokes about me anymore.

Kim with the broken Subaru was the breakout star of the Thanksgiving thread. Arguing with her girlfriend about not drinking too much at the event, promising her she would wound't. Her descriptions feels so on point. She really needs a spin off thread of her own.

She got one!

I love Kim. She seemed real. Her DUIs, her beat-up old car she be bothered to maintain... she was very human.

R49---Gimme all ya numbers so I can phone ya!

I'm coronavirus. I'm on most of the buffet spoons, the toilet handle, nearly all of door knobs and being breathed out of Dee who is a hugger. She picked me up at Home Depot when adjusted her mask after walking by some asshole who wore his mask under his nose. He got me from a night at the bar.

I'm the short non-fat half of the ex-nun marriage. We both grew up working class Irish Americans in Queen. (What else would we be.) So basically I yell everything I have to say and talk non-stop.

R120 do you have a tight pussy and perky tits under your navy Cape?

I'm the process meeting. Also the pre-process meeting session and the post-process meeting check-in.

I'm the multiple food allergies.

I'm the portable pool table Barb and Lynda carry into the gardenfrom the back of their truck. What can be more patriotic that a few games, a few beers?

I'm the stewing lesbian pretend cleaning in the kitchen because Candice has been a little too chummy with the new abused lesbian girl and hasn't left her side since they cried together to process her abuse. I'm gonna make me a big giant loud tearful scene after the next Coors Light.

I’m the naked yoga leader who encourages participants to open their sacred gardens and inhale their womynly life-affirming scent.

Ps for 5 bucks she’ll eat you out after the session.

I always forget—am I bipolar or borderline?

I'm the lesbian who's fixated on bisexuals. I saw through the new abused "lesbian" immediately and can be heard telling a trusted group of lesbians in the corner how sperm lives for several days in the vagina- you can't be too careful!

I'm suspiciously femme and some of the more level-headed butches privately wonder if there isn't a little something up with me.

[Quote] can be heard telling a trusted group of lesbians in the corner how sperm lives for several days in the vagina- you can't be too careful!

Is this... eh... dining advice?

I'm Florrie Fisher. I'm hanging back here in the back somewhere with my friend Jerri. We're getting h-i-i-i-gh!

R129 Safety scissors.

I'm the Kathy Bates lookalike. I secretly have a large property portfolio making me wealthier than everyone else here combined. I move from conversation to conversation aloofly.

I'm Phoebe. I have no property portfolio. I use adverbs correctly, though.

I'm the impromptu softball game.

I’m bringing beer not wine.

I am the interminable conversation about Rhonda and Ticka's 3rd place win at the DockDog competition. Everyone is tired of this topic but tacitly decides they can't top it.

I'm the potato mac salad made with dolphin safe tuna.

FYI, it's not me creating that fishy stench in the air.

I'm the "academic" lez (associate Prof at a community college) making the rounds with a Sharpie and a stack of stickers printed with My Preferred Pronouns Are...

My sticker says Xe, Xem, Xyr.

I'm Denise and I've had 15 deviled eggs and just let rip the most vile fart imaginable

I'm the maintenance guy, the only male EVER needed or wanted at a gay female function. Sorry I'm late!

I'm Jane, the lesbian who will let R140 that he and his tool box are completely unnecessary. And that we are never to be referred to as "gay females."

I'm the cargo shorts or ill fitting Levi's being worn over many a freakishly wide, boxy lower half

I think it needs to be added that this lesbian BBQ is taking place in a pandemic. Can you imagine Kim getting belligerent, drunkenly pulling of her mask and not social distancing while lesbians just artificially inseminated are in hysterics.

I'm the Jenifer Love Hewitt CD in the OP's CD player.

I am the cane propped up against the wall

I’m closer to fine.

I’m Mobility Mary, late because someone wouldn’t step out into traffic so I could speed along.

I'm loving the responses that are oddly specific. It always makes me wonder if they're based on a real person.

I'm the mental health disorder that has been diagnosed, thrice, but goes untreated. Because alcohol is cheaper than medication. No, really, it is. IT IS GODDAMNIT!

I’m the misbegotten penised children (aka “pre-rapists”) who’ve been ordered by our two moms Dani and Kat to stay in the garage for the duration of the BBQ.

I'm the one who brought a guitar. Nobody asked me to, but you are going to hear some acoustic renditions of '90s female singer-songwriter suicide songs whether you want to or not.

I'm the nutloaf, forlorn that only one slice of me was taken.

I'm the multiple sets of wind chimes scattered throughout the backyard

We're the fireworks, still in the shrink-wrapped assortment pack. Is someone going to get us out and start lighting us or what?

I’m the Lilith Fair CD on loop in the boombox.

I'm the sanitary napin disposal unit given pride of place in the upstairs shitter.

I'm the tuna salad brought by Jo-Dee. She claims I'm homemade which garners many a side-eye.

We're Pat and Barb. Jan and Bev, meet Sue and Deb.

I’m stiff movements & masculine-exaggerated mannerisms, for some reason the older we Dykes get the more we move like a closeted, highly-repressed Frat Boy trying to act masculine. Maybe it’s Fibro, maybe arthritis, maybe it’s intentional. Who knows?

[quote]I’m stiff movements & masculine-exaggerated mannerisms, for some reason the older we Dykes get the more we move like a closeted, highly-repressed Frat Boy trying to act masculine. Maybe it’s Fibro, maybe arthritis, maybe it’s intentional. Who knows?

I'm glad somebody's finally noticed this. I will also be this.

Once you get of the shower, it's all drag.

*Once you get OUT of the shower, it's all drag.

I'm the copy of "Rubyfruit Jungle" on the coffee table. Everyone pretends to have read me, but nobody actually has.

I'm the Mrs Murphy Mysteries they actually have read.

I'm one of the horses the host of the party is raising in her back yard.

I'm the conspicuous and conscious absence of anything related to flags, patriotism, the USA, or red, white, and blue.

I'm the one super butch Irish-American cop in the group. My father and grandfather were both cops. You DON'T want to get me started on BLM.

R167 “I’ll thank you to shut your fucking mouth about things you don’t know!”

I'm the lost pair of designer sunglasses scored for a deep discount at an outlet mall. I'll be searched for for hours, then when my owner resigns to having them be lost, she will spend the rest of the evening complaining about how little she spent compared to my original price tag. I will resemble those plastic Elvis impersonator glasses found at party supply stores.

I'm Kim's flask of Everclear nestled in an inside pocket, and I'm the reason she doesn't want to take off her Carhartt jacket despite the heat. Kim conspicuously fixed herself a mug of Red Zinger herbal tea under the ever-watchful eye of Darlene, then inconspicuously went to the can to put some REAL zing into it.

I'm the shakes setting in when Sar realises she's left her vodka-filled Sprite bottle at home.

I'm sexy Suzie from R74. When I was slipping my panties back on after Ginnie was done giving me THREE simultaneous orgasms, that snide bitch Kim walks in and says she'll tell my life partner Barb downstairs unless I sleep with her!

I'm a bandana wrapped around a mullet, with a baseball cap on top of that, and two different types of sunglasses held on top of the baseball cap (three if you count the ones she's wearing). This is all accessorized by more than twelve piercings between each ear, and three ear clips with dangling chains.

R173 I’m the hidden face & body. The goal since anytime a male showed me affection I became very agitated and insecure from a young age, “don’t these rapists know I like pussy too?! Don’t look at my body! You fucking perverts!!!”

I'm Dar telling Viv, sotto voce, that so far Kim's been attending her court-mandated AA meetings and the sobriety seems to be holding, knock wood, praise the Goddess. In fact, this is the first party they've gone to since the ankle bracelet came off, but so far so good.

I’m the heaving deck that is just about to reach its load capacity. It’s all over once Marva and Marla get here.

I’m the noticeable lack of fun and festivity at this gathering. The atmosphere is more woman’s correctional facility than Fourth of July

I'm the "shitty calls" the "homophobic" umpire made, discussed, ad nauseam, since this morning's losing softball game. The pre-game breakfast keg is not mentioned.

I'm the total square foot of food preparation space in the kitchen due to all the clutter.

Wait, Jan, put a tray of buns down on me. There I go.

I am the Shame Inducing Showers.

I'm Barb's yeast infection. She's told every other person at the BBQ all about me in extreme detail.

I am Lynda. I am here with my 4218th girlfriend. It will work this time because this one is NOT a narcissist.

I’m one of the larger gals on garbage detail.

We’re Sig & Teek. Enough said.

We're Tegan and Sara. Too much said.

I'm the mom who overheard her daughter talking about where the BBQ was, so I thought I'd surprise her and her friends with a tray of Sloppy Joes. They asked me if I ever made Sloppy Janes so I asked for the recipe but didn't get an answer.

My they are nice. I did not know there was a 'sister gender'.

I'm Poo Shoes. SURPRISE!

I’m Susan and I’m one of the larger, of the many, large guests. Throughout the day I will complain bitterly and make passive aggressive remarks about the quantity and quality of the food and lament how certain dishes were not made nearly as well as I would have, had this BBQ been hosted at my house. Ironically, my only contribution to the party food was a box of convenience store-brought donuts, half of which I ate in the car on the way over.

I’m the veggie burgers. The smell of sweat may be coming from the excessive cumin in me. Or maybe not.

I’m Big Ann and I have irritable bowel syndrome. My ailment is known to the other ladies and they are used to it flaring up ferociously at social occasions, but even so, I’ll avoid the cumin veggie burgers today. Maybe the chickpea salad or a bean burrito will be ok

I'm the L Word reboot. I'm not popular here.

[post redacted because linking to dailymail.co.uk clearly indicates that the poster is either a troll or an idiot (probably both, honestly.) Our advice is that you just ignore this poster but whatever you do, don't click on any link to this putrid rag.]

I’m old bigoted conservative straight men, I’m basically what old lesbians become but with some virtue signaling for lesbian causes and animal rescue.

I'm Debbie, the alcoholic housewife from next door who has crashed the party. Everyone is on pins and needles waiting for me to blurt out something homophobic.

I’m Rainsong, I wasn’t invited but have turned up anyway.

R194 I’m Cassie, but you can call me “Cass” everyone else does. I’m the butch predator here and I’m fairly certain Debbie might need some attention. If she so much as glances my way, I will follow her to the bathroom and hope she invites me in and I’ll rip her JCPenney panties off so I can eat her pussy like a pizza buffet.

I’m Kyra and I’m a newcomer. Nobody told me we weren’t supposed to call R190 Big Ann right to her face. They were all referring to her as Big Ann behind her back, but when I said, “You want some more potato salad, Big Ann?” everyone just gasped. After what seemed like an eternity, Terri said, “Who’s up for a game of darts,” and that kind of defused the situation, but I still feel terrible.

I'm the back yard pool table.

I’m the Suzuki Sidekick with a dream catcher hanging from the rear view mirror. A bit later on Cassie is going to give Debbie her own private fireworks show in my backseat.

I’m Dot, the unofficial ManOntheLand!!! task force, ready to alert others to the arrival of any cis men.

I’m special guest Lizzy & The Muff Munchers, here to perform their signature song!

I’m Marj and after a few bourbons I like to instigate a game of strip poker. Despite the fact that nobody else ever wants to join me, before long I’ll end up fully naked and will be thrusting by 60 year old pussy aggressively at the other guests.

I’m Diania Okunda (formerly Johnson). I’m the only non-white in attendance. I am a Black militant socialist and anti-imperialist. I caused outrage when I showed up last election year in a Jill Stein t-shirt. Nobody dared say anything though. They’re all afraid of me.

I'm the one super fat one. There are plenty of fat ones. But I'm the one who weighs over three hundred pounds. I have the same personality as all the rest, and my fatness is the only thing of not about me.

I'm the discarded box of sparklers because they made Pam feel uncomfortable. They are a celebration phallic tool idealizing the penis.

I’m the benefit raffle with assorted prizes that include various sexual accoutrements to pleasure your lady or self. This has all the gals abuzz with excitement.

I'm the one who had COVID. Now they all have it. Bad news is they're all old and in poor health.

R207, and fat.

I'm July 5th. This thread is over.

I’m June and I’m still holding a grudge over something that happened.. I’ll hold it til next year and engage in passive aggressive behavior at the next July 4th party.

I'm the neighborhood stray dog, looking for leftovers in the garbage, but it's all tofu. Fortunately a pair of discarded crocks, covered in cat piss, made it all worth the journey.

I’m the bitchy text messages shared between a small number of guests the next morning....‘Kim is such a skank and clearly an alcoholic’....’can we not invite Big Ann to future events, she is fat and disgusting’...’Pam’s tofu looked and tasted like dog food’....’who was that butch slut that Barb hooked up with behind the Subaru?’...

The grudge that will be help till next year.

I’m Rosie O’Donnell, taking advantage of the casual dress code to turn up in bike shorts.

[quote] I am the Shame Inducing Showers.

I thought they were shame *reducing*. Have lesbians become (even more) sadistic?

I’m Mindy and I’ve woken up with the hangover from hell. I’m in a strange and dirty bed and lying next to me is an obese older woman I vaguely remember talking to at the bbq. She is naked and snoring loudly and reeks of booze and cigarettes. Attached to her still is a large strap-on dildo. I shudder at what took place and begin planning my swift and silent exit!

I’m Fran, Mindy’s bed partner. I just farted myself awake, and the strap on fell off and hit the floor with a rubbery thump. I’m hoping Mindy comes back to bed soon so she can bring me my cigs and coffee. I can’t believe I found my soulmate last night. Mindy is everything. We can go get her packed today and have her moved in by sundown.

I’m Jo’s July 5 reply text to Kim telling her, “NO I will NOT just ‘get over it’!!”

I'm the faggot who went to a Lesbian Fourth of July to note down all their anthropological behaviors, instead of getting as much dick as I could at Fire Island/ Phoenix/ the Cock /any other appropriate destination

all kidding aside tho. is this an Old thing? a countrified rural thing?

I don't even know any lesbians here. much less obsessing over their picnics

No need to over analyze. It’s just a thread fictitiously poking fun at some amusing social dynamics amongst lesbians. No one is saying it is absolutely true about all lesbians.

^^ if you say so

why I was wondering if it was an Old thing. I don't think I've met any of these characters in life or fiction. sounds like a barbecue on the set of Deliverance. Jon voigt was hot in that

actually he was not, I meant burt Reynolds.

I'm the dissertation-length email June finally sent to the attendees after ruminating increasingly angrily on the events of the party for 9 days.

Each time she ran over them in her head, she found more obvious proof that everyone was in the wrong but her, and she was unfairly ganged up on. The email consists of several long, aggrieved introductory paragraphs, laced with barbed sarcasm, followed by a numbered outline list. Each numbered grievance has several bulleted subsections. All the attendees are individually named, shamed, and thoroughly blamed.

None of the recipients remember any problems or unpleasantness with June at the actual party. "She seemed to be having a great time," Jak tells Mo when they discuss it on the phone. "She was smiling and laughing when she left. I don't get it."

A lesbian never forgets....

R216 and R217 are probably the funniest posts I've read on DL in awhile. I've reread them about six times now. Kudos to the poster/posters who wrote them.

I'm Brittany aka Tank.

These posts are hilarious. I am so glad God made me a fag. We've got our issues, but they don't include nutloaf or dilapidated Subarus.

Smells like fish to me.

I'm the 50-something, overweight bull dyke given a "lipstick lesbian" make-over by my new 23-year-old girlfriend. I reluctantly agree to debut my my sweethearts' new creation at the BBQ.

No one knows what to say. Make-up, hair, nails and high heels have never looked so profoundly awkward. You can't look away.

My new look, and girlfriend, will both be gone by tomorrow.

[quote]No one knows what to say. Make-up, hair, nails and high heels have never looked so profoundly awkward. You can't look away.

Reminds me of Jo's makeover in the FoL opening credits at 5:50

We’re the neighbours and we are annoyed ( but not surprised) that the lesbians next door have not cleaned up after their big party. Empty beer cans, cigarette butts and cheap dollar tree picnic ware are discarded and strewn all over both the front and rear yards. The bbq has not been cleaned and the uneaten nutloaf and tofu is now attracting rodents. A beat-up old Subaru has been abandoned on the street and a young homeless drunk woman appears to be living in it. We, along with the other neighbours, know from experience that if we approach these angry and untidy lesbians that we will be met with hostility, drama and threats.

I am the thirty six lesbians in attendance.

I am also the moment when said 36 lesbians look around the party, and realize we have all slept with each other.

[quote] I just farted myself awake, and the strap on fell off and hit the floor with a rubbery thump.

Someone please write a novel, or at the very least a short story, using this as an opening sentence. It is brilliant.

I’m the breakup that’s happened since.

No, not Bar and Jan.

No, the other one.

The other other one.

That one.

I'm the plastic hummus container that's finally being put out for recycling, but not before Ang spots the tell-tale "Sabra" label on one of the lids. I cause Ang to call out angrily, huskily, "Hey, Kris -- since when did you decide our household is gonna financially support genocide and apartheid?" From the living room, Kris snaps, "What's THAT supposed to mean?"

You know EXACTLY what I mean Kris!!

[sound of breast casting shattering followed by sobbing]

I'm Natasha Megan-Lilith (MTF), having weaseled my way into the party through an acquaintance. For some bizarre and potentially transphobic reason, nobody wants to lez it out with me. Just wait until twitter hears about this.

I’m the heated discussion on non-bio females self -identifying as lesbians. The host has to come out and tell people to pipe down and remind them that this is a party. Beers are slammed down and a couple of cars tear out of the driveway not long after.

Are we supposed to be able to read that R238?

R240 There's a thing called zooming.

The moment when a DL thread literally becomes what it's joking about.

R240 what I made out was a young version of the Ya Ya Sisterhood has a sleepover to help one of them get over a breakup. Some coked up trans person who was a mutual acquaintance ended up ended up coming over as well. Trans person ended up getting aggressive because they were watching “Love, Actually” instead of doing quasi-lez things that they do during girl sleepovers in bad horror movies.

Trans person ultimately passed out on the couch. The next morning he/she woke them up banging on something in the kitchen in frustration over the non-lesbionic sleepover—which is where they found her/him, naked and upset. They called her an Uber and later the Ya Ya Sisterhood ghosted her via text.

I'd take nutloaf and Subarus over this any day, R228.

R244 barf

R244 Is that Bear Force One?

Here's the link

R247 Seriously I’ve thrown up enough in my mouth tonight.

R244 The story behind this is even more horrifying than the photo.

What’s the story?

I’m old, fat, hairy, ugly lesbian with questionable hygiene who claims to believe every trans woman transitioned just to rape her because I’m so irresistible.

R250 It's a really long story, but you can read about it here.

R151 Did somebody say "old, fat, hairy, ugly with questionable hygiene"?

Oh yes--thanks. I didn't realize it was that story. Yikes. I've had to get off certain sites where guys start sharing those saline injection/penis pump photos. Creeps me out.

I’m Marjorie and I was so hungry that I picked up a large pizza and a bucket of chicken on my way home. I’m pretty sure Bertha and Clare-Ann did the same thing. I don’t get why the gals only serve boring old nutloaf and tofu when we have a party.

Bertha actually ordered two large pizzas just for herself R255, and then proceeded to practically give birth on the toilet the next day

R250, here's a thread about it.

I'm the discussion of what to do with the package of fireworks that was never opened due to drunken forgetfulness. Nan wants to throw me away as I could be dangerous. Barb wants to put me away in the garage and save for New Year's Eve. Midge wants to donate me to Deb's adopted son, who is "quite the pyro." Jane wants to save me for next 4th of July, because there could be another fireworks shortage, especially if relations with China deteriorate. Bucky wants to open me and light some now, even though it's a week late. In the end, nothing is decided, nothing happens and I am doomed to languish in my cellophane wrapping for another year. A hundred bucks wasted.

So what happens when a straight person ends up at a lesbian BBQ? Are they asked to leave? The times I’ve been in a primary lesbian event, club or gathering there’s a lot of hostility directed at anyone male or hetero (with the opposite sex). Bad luck or a “thing”?

R259 If you aren't going to marry any of them why are you there?

nah R221 youre wrong, this is fucking weird and the obsession people have with updating it is tiresome

I have seen some of the nastiest shit ever in the basement of the cock at 4 AM, which is a room full of "faggots," as 228 proudly calls themself, with some of the transgenders sprinkled in, and maybe a few godforsaken fag hags with nowhere else to be

not pretty. this thread is ugly people writing about other ugly people

R261 = angry lesbian

R261 Knows it takes just one lesbian to screw in a lightbulb, and that is not funny.

The 3 or 4 misogynist trolls who clog up the trans threads are the main ones posting here, surprisingly enough. Like, actually surprising. Several replies each.

I'm the leitmotif of every lesbian gathering. Do you hear it?

"THAT'S NOT FUNNY!"

I laugh at all the comments at the gay app profile because they are funny because at some point I’ve dealt with it online. I don’t get all huffy and personally offended and act like it’s some big homophobic attack on gay men.

The lesbians here who are all bent out of shape about this being anti-lesbian or misogynistic need to lighten up or stop getting mad over seeing themselves in these posts. My suspicion is that many hit to close to home.

I'm the not enjoying the micro aggressive way you flip the Boca Burgers on the grill.

R266 - nah. I'm not a lesbian, I don't live in the middle of the country where yall apparently witness this, and I'm not ugly.

this is a weird thread for a gay men's website, and it's approaching 300 replies

the gay dating app thread is nothing like this. I'm not even reading these replies but the few that catch my eye are truly repulsive. wtf is wrong with y'all. this is what happens when the trannies take over the threads. they turn crazed and disgusting.

and the tranny's comeback is ALWAYS, while frothing at the mouth-- "you must be a cunt LESBIAN frau!!!" right, cool ya got me.

that's how I know who's posting here.

I'm Clare, arriving on my vintage '88 Honda scooter.

R268 I know you weren't trying to be wise, but W&W for some goddamn wisdom.

Thread closed.

I thought this was a gay website, meaning gay PEOPLE not just men. So it's not unusual for a lesbian thread to exist and it certainly isn't the first one.

Has there ever been a DL thread on lesbians where there wasn’t a serious campaign to shut it down?

THIS THREAD IS NOT FUNNY!

who knows R272 but I'm sure you've been keeping track

and do let us know your pronouns while youre at it. we all find you and your obsession riveting

(you AND your alt accounts at R271 and 273, which I seem to have blocked already)

If someone were to start a similar thread about gay men, they'd all run crying to Muriel, who would shut it down and then ban the OP for a month.

I'm 273 but haven't posted anything else on here, so I'm not sure why r275 thinks we're all the same person. Someone teach her how to use the ignore feature.

Isn’t the let’s be a gay dating app basically the equivalent of this thread? Some of the stark criticism is very similar, and I’m holding up pretty well.

R276 You are so full of shit! There are countless “let’s be ___” threads on gay men, and we all join in and just laugh it off because a lot of times many of the posts do have some truth to them.

It really is tiresome how people take things way too seriously these days and don’t know how to laugh at themselves.

Aren’t there a few DL threads on let’s be a gay man’s apartment or house party? I always laughed—some fit, some didn’t, but we invariably know someone or have seen some glaringly stereotypical items or behavior.

R280 it's hardly worth arguing anymore-- but sure the gay dating app thread is, if not exactly the height of wit, obviously it's not offensive, it's just guys bitching about what they object to on grindr. same with the gay antique store thread.

this is more like the str8 bear and his 3 adopted sons, or whatever the hell that was. a different genre.

but jesus Christ idc anymore, if youre getting off on this then by all means. the posters here are happier than pigs in shit

I'm the passive-aggressive, six thousand word Wordpress blog post written by the one who claimed to have had a great time at the BBQ. I was written the second she got home and I feature nothing but barely veiled allusions to every imagined slight my authoress thinks she experienced at the party. I have a title like 'On Toxic People' and by the following day I have been read by everyone in attendance last night after Marj linked Deb's blog to Sue who sent it to Nan who sent it to Nicki and so on.

I begin with the line, 'Okay, I just need to vent about *some* people...'

I'm the one who was writing 'That's not funny' in this thread back in 2008. I was in attendance at the BBQ where I also found nothing to be funny.

I'm the still clogged toilet. What do those girls eat?!

I’m Fran and I’m still in bed, waiting for Mindy to return. I know the whole, “if you love something, set it free” thing, but I’m a lesbian, and I require a restraining order for that to happen.

[quote] I'm the still clogged toilet. What do those girls eat?!

Nutloaf and pussy.

I'm already planning next year's, because nothing is spontaneous in the lesbian world.

I’m the tasteful, modest, expensive looking diamond studs in Kim’s ears. Gift from a former lover? Gift from indulgent parents? No one asks.

Most likely stolen R288

Subarus aren't lesbian jokes that you would want us to leave

I’m Kim’s year-old menstrual Moon Cup that doubles as a shot-glass!

I'm the cops that are getting called melee by the neighbors. It's July 22nd.

A lesbian BBQ really only BEGINS on July 5th.

That’s when all the grudges start being nursed, the long silences between couples over their behaviour that night happen, the anger at the ‘offensive’ jokes reaches fever pitch, etc.

I’m the one who had too much to drink and couldn’t drive. Liz volunteered to take me back to her place to sleep it off after I came up with some excuse about losing my wallet.

I’m still sleeping here three weeks on and will be for the next three years.

I’m Gwen and after way too much bourbon and a near punch-on with Midge over her misuse of pronouns, I passed out on the back lawn.

[quote]I’m the tasteful, modest, expensive looking diamond studs in Kim’s ears. Gift from a former lover? Gift from indulgent parents? No one asks.

Cubic zirconia. QVC.

Why haven’t these bitches died in a grease fire yet?

I'm showing up with the shaved ice!

There’s A LOT of them to burn, R297.

The cat hair on them alone weighs twenty pounds.

Given most of them were morbidly obese and reliant on mobility scooters, they didn’t stand a chance in a grease fire.

I am an old Lesbian bull. I think of myself as a lipstick lesbian so for a BBQ I dress like I am going to a evening cocktail party Circa 1950 with a cheesy wig from the same era. Everyone thinks I am an elegant lady who happens to like other ladies.

I'm Mindy and even though it's been three weeks since my "dalliance" with Fran, I still haven't been able to get the smell of Pall Malls and breast cheese out of my nostrils.

I'm Ritchie, the methed out bi-polar queen who is STILL here even though the BBQ ended nearly three weeks ago. I just sold the hostess's collection of 90s On Our Backs porn magazines on ebay for $100! She caught me while listing them, so I quickly made up a story that I was selling them to raise money for AIDS. She believed me! I'm a really good liar, and I'm also an expert at non-apologies like "Sorry you're mad about the cum stains I left on the couch."

I'm the homophobic gay-female at R303. I'm the one saying 'that's not funny!' to all the other guests every five minutes.

I'm the announcement three weeks later that the house was robbed while the BBQ was one.

The guests find me hard to believe.

*BBQ was on

I’m the vaginal ectoplasm on Fran’s strap on that is slowly eating away at the floorboards.

I’m the nutloaf no one touched. Meanwhile, five empty jars of queso are still sitting out on the deck.

I can't tell if r9 is meta irony, irony, or legit.

When did nutloaf rise to the top of the lesbian food pyramid?

There’s a hierarchy now?

What’s that supposed to mean?!

You know exactly what that means, r311. Can you please just let it go? Your tone is accusatory and wounding.

I’m the ketchup and mustard stains that somehow got onto the vagina cape.

I am the take and bake bread I bought at the market on the way to the BBQ. Nothing says great idea to hog the host's oven during a party for fake store bought baked bread.

I am the cactus brought as a hostess gift.

I’m the giant scented candle from Yankee Candle placed on the coffee table. It has been there for ten years and when it’s lit it smells of burning dust and some odd scent, which is why it was marked down 75%

I'm this being served.

R141 /"Jane" is the one who pretends she's never heard of maintenance despite being on physical maintenance and needing Mr. Andrea's services on a tri-weekly basis. Weight shaves and rejuvenations, anyone?

The notion of a gay person not knowing what maintenance is, is just preposterous. Sorry. You'd be the first, if you weren't being silly.

R317, my dad loves that dish but it's probably the Russian in him. Gross IMO. I make it for people in my family but I can't stomach it.

What is that? R317

I saw it on another thread, R320, and thought it looked like what I imagine a vag looks like (never seen a real one) so posted it here.

I think it's actually a Russian dish called herring under fur coat.

I'm Peg. It's been three weeks since the BBQ and I'm just now getting around to figuring out what all of you owe me for the keg. I know I didn't say anything about chipping in. It slipped my mind. I'm dividing it equally among everyone I can remember being in attendance. Please no emails about what you did or didn't drink. And I don't do Venmo or anything like that. I prefer a check.

I was told there would be bearded clams served, with muff pie for dessert.

.Are they gone already?

R320, it's dressed herring salad, also known as herring under a fur coat. It's full of mayonnaise, cabbage, sometimes beet juice and other types of fishy, obscure Soviet horrors.

Yep @ R321

I’m the ambulance trying to get past all the Subarus parked halfway up the street.

I'm the blue Honda with the U-Haul trailer parked out front in case I meet somebody.

Lol, these jolly gals must be planning their next next big drama-filled social event soon!

It’s a “No Man On The Land Labor Day Party” at Dot’s place! Bio-females only!