Lesbian

I moved to the neighborhood because there were so many attractive young women there. Little did I know that I was moving to a neighborhood with the highest concentration of lesbians in the entire city.

At least you can get a good cup of coffee there.

A girl goes into the doctor's office for a checkup. As she takes off her blouse, he notices a red »H« on her chest.
»How did you get that mark on your chest?« asks the doctor.
»Oh, my boyfriend went to Harvard and he's so proud of it that he never takes off his Harvard sweatshirt, even when we make love,« she replies.
A couple of days later, another girl comes in for a checkup. As she takes off her blouse, he notices a blue »Y« on her chest.
»How did you get that mark on your chest?« asks the doctor.
»Oh, my boyfriend went to Yale and he's so proud of it that he never takes off his Yale sweatshirt, even when we make love,« she replies.
A couple of days later, another girl comes in for a checkup. As she takes off her blouse, he notices a green »M« on her chest.
»Do you have a boyfriend at Michigan?« asks the doctor.
»No, but I have a girlfriend at Wisconsin. Why do you ask?«

Lesbianism is almost an institution. You never forget your first lesbian. Mine was a girl named Lisa (and I thought they were all named Sheila or Deborah). Anyway...Lisa told me about the three categories of Lesbian: Lipstick, Diesel, and Granola. 10 years later, Lipstick Lisa is married to an 80 year old billionaire who lives on the other side of the country. He just thinks all those girls who hang out in his East Coast mansion are there for canasta.