My friend, Bill, sat at the bar in the Red Dog Saloon drinking a cold beer, where I left him as I had visited the restroom. As I returned, I saw a rough-looking woman standing near him.
She ordered a Bloody Mary, then looked his way and asked, “Are you a real miner?”
“Yes, I spend nearly every day dry-panning for gold,” he answered.
“That’s pretty cool,” she said.
“What about you?” Bill asked.
“I’m just a lesbian passing through,” she said. “And I tend to spend all day thinking about naked women and titties.”
She paid for her drink and left for a table in the back of the room. I could tell Bill was puzzling over why anyone would say such an odd thing to a stranger, or at least that is what I thought he was thinking.
Having overheard their brief conversation and being a smartass, I tried to lighten the mood by straddling the stool on his opposite side and asking, “So, are you a real miner?”
“Always thought I was,” Bill answered. “But I just found out I’m a lesbian.”
The Old Blog in the Desert 