Congratulations on Joining the Softball Team!

Organized sports aren’t your thing, which is cool. Most of us here in the office can certainly relate. Even if organized sports do bring gambling to the forefront of our consciousnesses and occasionally let us see hot girls in strangely sexual uniforms as far as we’re concerned the various mongoloids who obsess over who hit the most home runs to win Sophie’s Cup can go fuck themselves.

But we have to make some exceptions for lesbians who just moved to small towns. Lesbians like you.

Montana isn’t really the best place to be gay. It’s also not a great place to be an outsider, but you happen to be both. So when you show up in Superior next week you’re going to feel pretty isolated. You’ll spend a lot of time staring out your windows, smoking cigarettes and wondering if the various women you see with short hair are lesbians or various abused spouses who are somewhat interested in becoming lesbians. You won’t have the courage to get out and ask anyone since Superior is about as warm and friendly as a speculum, and the people there will stare daggers at you for even mentioning Depeche Mode. God only knows what they’d do to you for soliciting them for a little bit of mutual oral in your one bedroom walk-up.

After a few weeks of misery at work where you pine over all the pretty little things in women’s suits that you want to do unforgivable things to you’ll catch a break. You’ll catch word that a women’s softball league meets once a week in a public park for some good clean fun.

Now you’ll never have played softball. The closest you’ll ever have come was once beating the shit out of a girl with a bat for calling you a dyke in high school, then avoiding suspensions because the superintendent wanted to avoid controversy. But you’ll know that softball has a reputation, and knowing that reputation you’ll sign up immediately, letting your hand linger a bit too long on the hand of the girl you pass the pen off to. She’ll meet your eyes and blush a little and you’ll immediately know you were right to slap your name down on that mimeographed sheet with a picture of a methed out baseball on it.

You’ll show up to your first practice with The Ballsey Ladies wearing a pair of short shorts and a home-made tank-top, showing off your ink and lithe little muscles. You’ll move with nigh mystic grace and poise, despite being fairly clumsy with a softball bat, and you’ll have every eye on you each time you take a base and round home.

You’ll feel, for the first time, untouchable. And when the game ends and you go out for drinks with “the ladies” you’ll really just be biding your time until you get a chance to ask that pretty little thing that blushes easy if she wants to come back to your apartment and welcome you to Superior. You’ll be sipping your drink, smiling to yourself, wondering wishing Softball had started weeks ago.

Congratulations on Joining the Softball Team!

Congratulations on Setting the Spike Perfectly!

You’re one of those super sexy lady volleyballers with a ponytail, a pair of sunglasses and a chip on your shoulder to anyone who’s too big a pussasaurus to step up to you on the court. Your favorite masturbation video is that one gay scene from Top Gun and you have difficulty engaging people in a conversation unless it relates to volleyball in some way. Luckily you’re good at spinning it into conversations so you can manage to draw in topics as diverse as Haiti, the Afghan war and, as you likely guessed from our earlier reference, the film Top Gun and jet-fighter pilots as a whole.

You’re serious about volleyball. Deadly serious. So serious, in fact, that during the Big Game Which We’re Not Aware of the Name of Because We Have Social Lives Outside Volleyball you’re going to get a little bit too intense. You’re going to set a spike so perfectly that when one of your super sexy, buff, socially retarded teammates spikes your set from behind you it’ll kill one of the other super sexy ladies playing white-ball sport.

This will have two immediate repercussions. Your team will win the tournament, as per the official rules of volleyball, and you’ll be found guilty as an accessory to the crime of manslaughter. Your attorney will try to get you off but that set will be such a perfect movement, such a perfect lead for such a perfect spike into the perfect place at the perfect moment to lead to the perfect decapitation with a leather ball that his defense will fall on deaf ears.

“How could she have set such a perfect spike and not expected this to happen?!” the prosecution will scream, pointing to you as you hang your head in shame. “A creature of such grace could make no error!”

The jury will harrumph in agreement and you’ll be sentenced to eighteen months with a chance for parole in six.

The upside is that your “how’d you get in here” story will revolve around volleyball and, ergo, actually help you interact with people in the joint. The downside is that you’ll become the head of a volleyball based prison gang and, upon your release, enter into a life of ruthless crime centered around volleyball.

But at least we’ll all have months of super hot lesbian sex to look forward to!

Congratulations on Setting the Spike Perfectly!

Congratulations on Finishing Your Script!

After months of other’s nay-saying and nagging, three relationships, hundreds of dollars of coffee, cocaine and whiskey, you’ll do it this evening. You’ll finish the first draft of your script about what it really means to be an American Apparel model. It will consist almost entirely of lesbian sex scenes and depictions of drug use, although there will be one really touching scene where lesbians have sex together after one of them has been crying for a while and the weeping lesbian will end up feeling way better as a result.

It will be picked up by Universal and released this summer.

Congratulations on Finishing Your Script!

Congratulations on Waking Up!

You’re going to accomplish the biggest thing you’ve done in the last six years this afternoon. You’re going to wake up!

No, you’re not clinically depressed or chronically unemployed, although you are quite unemployed right now. You’ve been in a coma! While so incapacitated your still conscious partner has performed oral sex on you a total of seven times, you’ve seen thirty seven different bouquets of flowers, you’ve had one uncomfortable kiss from a young orderly who was captivated by your beauty. You also saw the movie Maid in Manhattan, and paid about as much attention to it as the rest of the world did when it was out in theaters. But today is going to top it all.

Today your eyes will flutter open and you’ll wake up gasping. It’ll be a disorienting few minutes, since the last time you were conscious you were in a bar fight with a two hundred and thirty pound heavily tattooed man who proceeded to beat you with a pool cue until you lost consciousness.

He would’ve gone easy on you but you were, as he put it, “a dyke,” and “he’d hate to discriminate on how he treated people who slept with his ex-wife depending on sex.” So down you went. Your assailant is currently in prison, although because of his egalitarian statement he was not given additional sentencing based on hate crime legislation. He bears you no ill will (you gave as good as you got and earned his respect) and is up for parole in a week. He’ll send you an ice-cream cake with his prison earnings, simply decorated with the word “Sorry” and for your part you’ll laugh and won’t report his parole violation.

You’ll scream as you realize you’re not in the bar, and try to get out of bed, but you’ll collapse on your now useless legs. The orderly who once kissed you will be at your side in a flash, eyes wide with shock and a touch of fear. You’ll shout your lover’s name as he holds you and tries to comfort you. He’ll call a nurse and she’ll get Grace on the phone and she’ll be in her Subaru Forester faster than you can say “My comatose love has finally awoken!”

Grace has been true to you all these years, thanks largely to her huge heart and your gorgeous eyes, the kind that are too expressive to do justice. Even when they’re closed people can see the beautiful soul hanging out behind them (hence the orderly).

So despite the facial scarring and the new steel plate in your skull you’re totally going to have a bangin’ hot girlie on your arm when you roll out of that hospital in a sweet ass wheelchair, although once she gets you home she’s not going to go easy on you. You’re going to have trouble sitting down for a while, but in a good way.

When you first try to sleep memories of the last six years will crash on you with the force of a riptide and start pushing down on you. Just ride it out. If you lose it you’ll end up in another coma and even though Grace has a big heart, she doesn’t deserve that. She’s got you back. Don’t let her down.

Oh, and congratulations on waking up. It gets easier every day.