Those of us of more modest proportions tend to compensate for our lack of giraffe-genitalia by employing a strap-on of some description; usually a flash sports car.
Now I've always been of the opinion that the only people you're going to attract in a flash sports car are immature, teenaged boys.
If that's where your predeliction lies, then by all means buy that Porsche.
I, however, like pretty girls and I'm quite happy with my penis; therefore I drive a small, cute car.
Today I turn to the distaff side and put a question to you, dear citizens of Blogville (and especially to Vic, Maria and Bing for reasons that may become slightly clearer later), that has been vexing me many a year:
As you know, I design girls' schools for a living and apart from the grumpy old men in the architects' department the company I work for is staffed and run mostly by weemen.
Our senior management (other than capo di tutti capi Babs, our CEO, who drives an übercool vintage Fiat 500 - seen below in the background, nestled cutely in parking bay number one) are all of the middle-aged, bull-dyke persuasion.
The top floor resounds to the sound of swishing tweed trousers and an aggressive barking not unlike that of maddened walruses as the large ladies of management chase twittering, pretty young secretaries around their desks (I exaggerate only slightly … believe me; it's scary up there if you're in a skirt. That's the main reason I don't wear a kilt to work).
To illustrate the point of my question I took these photographs of their cars in our underground car park earlier this week:
All of these monster, macho motors are owned and driven by our lovely lesbian leaders.
As well as the GT40 (how the fuck much money do we PAY these people?) and the lovely E-Type and the stupid TVR, the überfemmes drive M-series Beemers and AMG Mercs and one of them smears her ample butt over a fat Harley.
Whenever you see a male driving one of these, you know instinctively that he has no dick.
The same (obviously) applies to the fragrant ladies of our senior management team.
My question therefore is this:
As they have no need of a dick, what on earth are they compensating for by driving around in these ridiculous macho strap-ons?
It bugs me. I need to know.
14 comments:
"That's the main reason I don't wear a kilt to work"—I laughed out loud. What are your other reasons?
I'm sorry I can't answer your question for you.
I think "sanity" would be the other reason, Robyn.
And in these sub-zero temperatures, the "no underwear" rule might lead to a freezing of my assets.
The Fiat and E-Type get my vote.
As for the others.......
Mmmmmmmm nuf said.
Maybe it's lack-of-penis envy?
Or maybe they just get too much money.
You can't buy taste or style, just look at any footballer.
I was down there with JJ and Ben parking the pool car we had been out in and we looked at the GT40 and the TVR and joked how they'd never get them up the ramp out of the car park without them breaking down; then having drooled over the E-Type, we arrived at Babs' little grey Fiat 500.
It just sat there and out-cooled the lot of 'em.
Hee hee.
sometimes a car is just a car, sugar! ;-)
(still chuckling over the kilts line!)
Much as I love a muscle car, in practice, I'm much more practical about vehicles. I don't, and never will understand the passion for sports cars outside of race tracks and weekend adventures. And usually, the magnitude of idiot can be measured by the cost of the vehicle which both have an inverse relationship to character and or penis size.
As to the dykes and macho mobiles, you've got me there. I have no idea. Most well heeled lezzies I know here drive practical vehicles that go nicely with their shoes.
Well i've searched back and i can't find the massive stiffy of which you speak. How can you tease a girl like that?
It's a strange thing isn't it, the penis related purchase of a long, flashy thrusty car. It follows the mostly male perception that large is best. It isn't. Well; not much anyway. ;)
I have yet to meet a lesbian who drives anything like those cars.
The ones I know prefer jeeps. A few trucks.
Bing drives a cargo van because she has to haul percussion and other musical instruments. If she could pick a car, she'd pick a hybrid.
Me? I just want it to be um...pretty. And drive nicely in the snow.
What sort of lesbians do you grow there in Harry Potterville?
What would I know - I drive a 1990-something beat up ol' Laser hatch-back!!! I guess it proves I'm not a lesbian, and I don't need to strap on anything!!!
I'm relieved it's too hot in PNG for kilts too!!!
Savannah: Thankfully, my little car is just a car.
Fresh: If these were driven by imbecile men who were hung like cashews I would understand it.
I love the phrase "most well-heeled lezzies I know …" Hee hee. I'm with you there; the ones I know outside the office tend to drive practical vehicles with no "girl-racer" pretensions.
Lynn: The window cleaner, dear girl. And thank you for the word "thrusty". I will endeavour to work it into a phone call today.
Maria: I'm with you; I drive a "pretty" car. Phil chides me for preferring a nice to design to any factors such as practicality or reliability. Hey ho.
As for Harry Potterville: the girls upstairs are Hagrid-sized, loud and tweedy.
They are the product of our oldest public schools and if you were English and I mentioned "Margaret Rutherford" or "Clarissa Dixon-Wright", you would know exactly the type I mean.
They hunt peasants on horseback at their weekend country houses and drive sports cars like maniacs in the city all week.
They are bonkers and barking and quite delicious fun, but they are scary when there is a pack of them.
Jules: Too hot for kilts? Yikes! I'm shrivelling at the very thought.
Hee hee, Kate.
What car does she drive?
I don't believe in your theory dive. I drive a small car and my wife drives the truck - Go figure.
Dive (well, uou asked Kate but I'll answer), until recently I owned a super-practical station wagon which I drove into the ground. I miss the hell out of it and my next car will have similar requirements: be one I can gig in, and one I can sleep in.
My question has been my site title since I started. I'll answer yours when you answer mine, huh?
Hee hee. Touché, Groover.
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