Clubs

Yeah...I have been kicked out of a lot of clubs.

I think I was first kicked out of the girl club when I was a snotty little British child. I played with the boys. I didn't like the girls. They were judgmental and exclusionary even at such a young age.
I have been kicked out of the woman club many times. I still play with the boys.....but when you look very much like a woman, you become suspect of either being a lipstick lesbian or simply being a man-stealer. I mean, let's get real.....I never mowed my lawn in a bikini, but in the eyes of all the wives in my neighborhood... ..it could have happened on any given Saturday and all of the husbands would have invented reasons to inspect their grass. Yes, I know....guys love grass....and really!!!! I'm not that hot.

I have been, relatively speaking, kicked out of the woman club because I regularly spill "woman secrets". I will quite happily tell any man that women just don't know what they want. They really don't. We will trick you into thinking that we do but, in reality, unless the cabin boy races down the deck, climbs the rigging and rings the bell.....we really don't have a clue.

I have been kicked out of the dating club. You are either too needy or just not needy enough. You play it cool and they fuck off because you weren't interested. You play it hot and they fuck off because you are clearly just too much to handle. You walk the median...and once again, you might just be a lesbian.

I was kicked out of the mom club. Ok, it was Massachusetts, and in Massachusetts all women have the same haircut and wear Laura Ashley. They have advanced degrees but spend their down time trading recipes and decorating their homes in shades of cranberry and leaf green. I decorated my home with pink flamingos who had an outfit for every occasion. I could have got away with it if I looked like a Kennedy. My teeth aren't that big.

They will soon kick me out of the cancer club. I just don't take it seriously enough and this blog is ample proof. Dude, I ain't never going to raise my hand and label myself as a "survivor". I had it. I did the chemo time.....I may have actually drooled a few times in my3 day stupor, but in the end, I just put on a dumb hat, head for LCBO, and tell dumbass Dieter that I still don't need a bag.

One club I will never be kicked out of is a biker club. Bikers have always loved me. I went to my senior prom with a biker. I think they see me as someone in need of their protection. I have always been blonde and innocent looking. I've always had a biker in my back pocket......don't get me started on cops.