It’s been 24 hours, sweetie; don’t keep us in suspense.
Just because it should be an interesting story…
Right, I’ll get into the lesbian potluck, since there’s maybe three of you seem who to want to know.
First, some history: there’s a good reason as to why I use the expression, “Man, that was a total lesbian potluck” after a particularly bad dinner party or social engagement. Now, I have nothing against lesbians, being a big ole’ fag myself. However, I have a problem with those who shouldn’t be allowed to entertain but choose to anyway.
Picture it: New Year’s 1993/1994. I didn’t really have plans, so I was hanging out with my ex-slash-best friend Ryan. We were just planning on getting pleasantly toasted or something (I forget). Then a frantic call comes through from our friend Jorge begging us to come to Gina & Linda’s potluck, because the situation was apparently bad, and having us there would somehow smooth things over (how, I don’t know).
Gina & Linda were this volatile couple who would always end up in huge arguments. Plus, Linda had this habit of frequently driving drunk. Anyway, I only knew Linda by association; it was Gina who was my friend. (They split years ago.)
So Ryan and I go buy two litre-and-a-half bottles of wine, since we obviously hadn’t time to prepare food. We trekked all the way up to Montreal North (which took more than enough time, thank-you-very-much) and made it to Linda’s place. Jorge answered the door, and in a thick Spanish accent, said “Thank God joo’re here. Ees worse dan you teenk!” (Gotta love Jorge… :D)
This was the situation: all of Gina’s invited friends - the young club kids - were in one room, and all of Linda’s 40-something str8 friends (WTF?!?) were in the other. And there was the usual friction between the two girls. On top of that, Linda’s older friends were visibly homophobic (WTF?!? again). After a while, the young ones eventually decided to split. Well, Linda wasn’t done with us. She - of her own volition - had decided to spend a lot of money on paella and frogs’ legs, so could we all give her two dollars on the way out?
Mother of God, WHAT did she want us to do?!? This was a potluck, for Christ’s sake. Ryan and I brought two huge bottles of wine which were there for everyone’s consumption. No way was I going to pay, especially since I had eaten neither paella nor frogs’ legs. My friend Tara came to the rescue, and made everyone’s point for us: in her usual dead-pan manner, she handed Linda $2, and said, “Here. I had a couple of spoonfuls of food.” Linda relented at that point.
We left, ended up at a really bad drag club, then spent midnight on the metro.
Well, that’s one story. I don’t know which was worse: the lesbian potluck or the lesbian barbecue.
Gina & Linda decided to have a barbecue, so we all went, again way the hell up in Montreal North. Basically, what Linda did, being the cheapskate she was, was to turn off the barbecue before people had finished cooking their food! And Gina, being the genius she is, decided to rent several thousands of dollars worth of DJ equipment - which she duly set up next to the pool. Guess what happened next? A bit of splashing, and Gina’s freaking out and screaming at us about her DJ equipment.
Oh, and we had to ask permission to go inside and use the bathroom. Linda had even cordonned off parts of her place. Then came the drunken lesbian fistfight.
Now, having been brought up by bloody Martha bloody Stewart, I can’t fathom how anyone could think this is good form when entertaining. My dinner parties were always about loveliness and perfection.
Hence my much-publicized anticipation of last Saturday’s lesbian potluck. I was all primed for an all-out disaster… but Gina, bless her soul, had everything under control but me. (Dammit, that’s what happens when the joints come out… LOL - I wasn’t expecting that). There were a bunch of cute boys there too… I wasn’t expecting to meet new guys.
Anyway, my chick pea salad was lovely.
I don’t want this to sound wrong, but for some reason I’m picturing Hank Azaria in The Birdcage .
BWAHAHAHAH! Pretty accurate.
That was exactly the face & voice I heard in my head when I read that.
So, just to clarify, if I’m headed out to some social obligation that I fear will be pure hell…I might call it a lesbian potluck? (merely based on your torrid history, of course;))
Not that I would, mind you, since I’d probably get called on the carpet for using slang that was in poor taste…but you get the picture.
You may indeed refer to it as a lesbian potluck, but I must be given credit. I copyrighted the term in early 1994.
To be fair, I have been to some brilliant lesbian potlucks. Really great ones, with interesting drinks.
But it would be a neat sounding phrase. . .
Hmmm. I so had Ian Gomez, the guy that plays Javier on Felicity.
scott evil, thank you for your story. Now I can sleep at night, knowing that I’m not really missing out.