Thank you, friends and perverted voyeurs, for following Peaches & Coconuts and me in our on-going series, Gay vs. Straight. We bring you our final edition after weeks of illusions and trickery, "Gay vs. Straight: The Reveal." Who is Chris? Who is Pat? Did their responses to deep, probing questions clue you in to their sexual preferences? Was it obvious which one was the homo and which one was the hetero when they discussed their spooning habits or their thoughts about afterbirth? It is time to validate your suspicions right here and now! And after the Big Reveal, we’re going to answer a few more questions as our big, revealed selves. As per usual, you’ll find questions and answers on each of our blogs, so be sure to visit the other.
In an effort to sustain the tease, I now give you links to all the previous posts in case you need to refresh your memory or read any entries you may have missed.
Good? Caught up? Excellent. I shan’t delay a moment longer.
PAT = NICOLE of Ninja Mom Blog
CHRIS = DEBORAH of Peaches & Coconuts
Did you know all along? Was that the funnest game you've played since that one time in college when you were drunk and someone pulled out a Twister mat?!?
We had a great time interviewing each other for your pleasure, and we’d like to end the series with a few more questions as our actual selves. And here, for the last time, unless you give us a standing ovation in which case we’ll have to come back for more, are our final questions and answers.
G vs. S: The Reveal
1. What turned you straight?
I'm pretty sure it was Vanilla Ice. I don't recall desiring women before that, but I certainly became aware of my straightness when I got a gander at his perfectly styled eyebrows. On second thought, that sounds like the opposite of straight. Is Vanilla Ice a woman? The immaculate eyebrow grooming does beg the question.
2. We're playing Shoot, Shag, or Marry! That's the game that requires the player to choose from three impossible choices, assigning the desire to shoot, shag, or marry to each. So, if it were Matt Damon, Daniel Craig, and Chris Hemsworth, I'd be in big trouble because you only get to shag one of the choices. Shooting them seems cruel to other people who enjoy looking at them. Marriage? Been there, done that.
Moving right along, I've got to pick from the fine ladies of Golden Girls.
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| I'm ruling out Estelle Getty because I'd hate to imagine Sophia throwing out a hip either shagging, running from my Glock, or stumbling down the aisle at our wedding. How ever will I chose? |
Shoot: I hate to do this to you, Dorothy Zbornak, but you had me feeling homicidal at caftan-cardigan. I can't respect a woman who shops at the Florida retiree store that specializes in robes as going-out clothes.
Shag: Rose. I'd hate to catch what Blanche has and I make it a rule not to sleep with dead women in caftan-cardis.
Marry: If one marries Blanche, one never has to worry about keeping her satisfied in bed. She's proven more than capable of finding her own satisfaction. I do, Ms. Devereaux.
3. Well how-de-doo. We've won the Nobel Peace Prize after all for our witty approach to marriage equality, leading to the legalization of gay marriage in every state but Texas and leading our fans to demand an acceptance speech in the style of a limerick (leading us to wonder if our fans really like us at all).
We started this series to trick you,
'Twixt homo and hetero---guess who?
We neither like spooning,
Our kids need fine tuning,
And surprise! One of us is a Jew.
***
Not bad for a month's worth of work. We cracked wise, explored poetic forms, discussed divorce, and fake-won a prize we have no business even writing about, never mind pretending to accept it in limerick.
But more important, and we think we can all agree on this, we've added not a whit of sense to the marriage equality debate. Unless we've helped you, Gentle Readers, to realize that people are people, so why should it be that you and I should get along so awfully? You can thank us later for the Depeche Mode on repeat in your head.
Whether you live in a blue state, a red state, or a state of confusion, we hope that one thing has become clear: gay or straight, no one thinks Coors Light is a real beer. It's foamy skunk water, and no matter how neat it would be to have a bullet train usher in a freak snowstorm in August, no one should drink Coors Light.
