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You know what’s funny? Women. What’s funnier than women? Women who fuck women! But they’re funny in a good way, because I can fill the gaps in my wisdom of the sapphic ways with shit I just made up that’s kind of based on some stereotype I might have heard from another comic on TV somewhere, then use that to contrast them with those neurotic bitches I actually got to live with. Also, dildos. Dildos are funny.

Dildo. Tee hee.

I know Norbizness is just going to show up and make fun of me for paying more attention to MND, but they have quite the comic treasure in Doug Powers, who also has a column at WND which places him along side such luminaries as Chuch Norris and that guy who writes the unintentionally hilarious options for their polls, plus he claims to have worked on laugh.com, which is very prestigious, or at least vaguely associated with George Carlin, so who are we to ignore him? Besides, he is pretty funny!

I’d like to take a little time out from talking about global current events and other political goings-on to make one little observation that’s slowly becoming a full-fledged domestic annoyance — It’s becoming painfully obvious that women can’t be friends with each other anymore.

Sure there are still some out there, and if you’re a woman and has a friend who has never used what you thought was a friendship in order to simply sell you something, embrace the relationship as a rare treat.

Bwaaa-haaa-haaaaaa! Oh, it’s funny because it’s true! Like, this one time, this friend of mine totally invited me to a Mary Kay party but I like didn’t go and it was just one event in like the three or four years that I knew her but still, it’s just like Doug said. Doug, get out of my head!

Actually, I should have gone. They have a kickass hand cream that is great in the winter when your hands are so dry they bleed. I wonder if she still sells that shit?

And speaking of women being unable to chat about kids and recipes without trying to make a few bucks selling each other girly shit, you know what else pisses me off? Oh, yeah, those fucking school fundraisers. Women and children, always out for a buck, I tell ya. Angels of the house my ass.

Nowadays, the schools are even on board, and are turning kids away from being students, and toward being door-to-door salespeople. The parents usually pick up the ball and run with it, taking the catalog to their place of business and expecting everybody at work to turn their kid into “Salesperson of the year” at Johnsonville Elementary.

What a mixed message — We instruct our kids, “Don’t to talk to strangers”, but then financially desperate educators come around and add the caveat, “Unless you’re peddling cookie dough and magazines.”

How many of us believe that the parents who just slap the the order form on the breakroom table and wait for it to fill up also force thier children to peddle popcorn and raffle tickets to strangers? Show of hands? That’s what I thought.

Anyway, my “financially desperate educators” forced us to sell chocolates and popcorn starting in the seventh grade in order to add more gold to their overflowing coffers, or as they called it, “earning money for your senior prom.” I guess we had a kickass prom. I dunno because I didn’t go, which I guess was fair because I never really sold that much chocolate either. My boyfriend sold crap to finance his extravagant marching band lifestyle. But the hell with making the children help fund their own extracurricular activites, the very act of fundraising annoys Doug, therefore it’s funny. Except for the carwashes in which happy teenage girls in damp shorts jump up and down with glittery signs at the side of the road. Those can stay.

At least school fundraising jokes run seamlessly into lesbianism, though. I’ll give him that.

There is respite, however. There is one group of women who have refused to cave into this “selling your soul for ten bucks” mentality, and they are lesbians.

Well thank goodness for lesbians, bless thier birkenstock wearing anti-consumerist little hearts. Someone has to provide sweet relief from the incessant nagging of those hetero women always trying to get you to sample thier wares. Well, bored heterosexual women and Doug.

I have yet to see a lesbian selling Avon, rubber stamps, photo albums, cookies, scarves, or anything else. They can have real friends. Lesbians can still get together for a cup of coffee, discuss how to achieve the ultimate Mullet haircut, catch an episode of “Ellen” in syndication, clean-and-jerk the lawn tractor, and spend the rest of the evening pleasuring each other with kitchen appliances and by the end of it all, still not made one single sales pitch. I respect that.

Golly gee, Doug, I can’t imagine why lesbians aren’t clamouring to sell you stereotypically feminine products. You’re clearly so approachable! You know what dykes love? When you tell them about how mullets are “business in the front, party in the back.” It absolutely slays them. I didn’t come up with it myself, so feel free to use it next time you find yourself making small talk with a carpet muncher. Don’t mention my name.

It must be incredibly frustrating to be a woman in this day and age.

Yeah, but don’t worry, it’s totally the fault of other women. Don’t you ever change.

If another woman wants to be your friend, it’s because she only wants to sell you something, and if a man wants to be your friend, he wants sex. If I were a woman, I’d end up a hopeless recluse

Don’t let your Y-chromosome handicap stop you from trying. Carpe diem!

— spending my days and nights out of human contact, save for my trusted, loyal dog, who would be playfully running around the living room, jumping on my lap, and licking my face as I scratch him behind the ears. He’d be my only true friend.

Then he’d whip out an Amway catalog.

Haa haaa haaaa — wait, what the hell is Amway? You should have said Gaiam, because they’re like this eco-lifestyle company that sends me way too many glossy catalogs filled with stuff that’s supposed to be good for the enviornment, and that’s funny. And don’t worry about the tupperware parties your wife is spending every Saturday afternoon at. It’s just a fad, and it’ll all calm down once the gals realize that the money is for shit.

Dildo. hehe.