"The delightful and dreary sides of gay life. The views and experiences of a thirty something guy trying to navigate his way through life. Sometimes funny, sometimes serious, but always entertaining."
It’s award’s season again in the Blogosphere and I would love it if you voted for me.
Remember my Susan Lucci curse. You know which one I am talking about – always being a nominee and never a winner. Well maybe this year we can break that curse.
I am participating in the 2011 SA Blog Awards and I need your vote. Voting is easy, all you need to do is this:
1.) Click on the “Vote badge”
2.) Enter your E-mail Address and the Security Code
3.) Submit
4.) Remember to Confirm Your Vote.
One vote per person and voting closes at midnight 9 November.
A repost especially for a friend who just today decided to quite Farmville.
There are few things in live that irritate me more than application requests on Facebook. But a few weeks ago, whilst in recovery from my cosmetic “procedure”, I made a fatal blunder – I allowed the combination of utter boredom and curiosity to have the better of me and I accepted one. And so I was drawn into the murky and addictive cyber world of an evil place called Farmville. Now seven weeks later I find myself trapped by cyber psychological blackmail and guilt leaving me with one question - is Farmville evil?
Farmville is an application on Facebook where you can start your own cyber farm. The animals are cute, the buildings are quaint and the possibilities are endless. You can plant and harvest crops, make cyber money, expand your farm, build buildings and accumulate allot of stuff you don’t really need. The first few weeks, having had oodles of time on my hands, farming on my computer was entertaining. My farm quickly grew into one big flourishing oasis of animals, ponds, plantations and orchards. I flew my way up the levels and all seemed well in Farmville land. However the fun would not last, as with all good things this too would come to an end.
You see Farmville is time consuming. You are forced to go back and play every day, sometimes more than once a day and if you don’t, shit will die! For a while I got tired of the whole thing and stopped playing. As days passed my neighbours noticed disapprovingly how crops died and animals ran away. It wasn’t long before a few neighbours started sending messages telling me not to “neglect” my farm. Apparently this makes me look like a bad person and cyber animal hater (Hmm... I wonder how PETA feels about Farmville).
After a while if you don’t actually farm (i.e. plant and harvest crap) the Farmville community will shame you into submission and you will become a slave to a game that should have been fun but no longer is. And this is what happened to me. What was a game started to feel like a job, a job that many people take far too very seriously! But I was losing interest and wanted out.
Being the kind of person who likes to finish what I start and considering myself to be dedicated to all my ventures I found myself in a conundrum. Am I going to abandon my farm and suffer the wrath of the community or am I going to continue on with it? So for a couple of weeks, against my better judgement, I decided to press on. I figured out a way to time my harvests, developed a set routine and soon found that I was scheduling my life around a farm that doesn’t really exist.
My farm grew and flourished at the expense of my free time and my life in the real world. It soon became unhealthy, inconvenient and just a plain ridiculous pain in the ass and not the good kind! It apparently can get so bad that there are even people (CEO’s in fact) who gives their spouses, family members and/or friends their Facebook profile passwords to ensure that their farms are tended to while they are in meetings, on business trips and/or on holiday. It’s an illness I tell you and I didn’t want to end up being one of those people.
So last week I decided that I had enough I wanted to quit. My little fagilicious avatar will be deleted as will my farm. However, there was just one teeny tinny problem with that decision - you can’t freaking delete your farm! You can block the applications but your farm, it’s animals, trees, buildings and your cyber farmer himself will still be there waiting for you. Haunting you!
Eventually your guilt and pressure from the Farmville community will force you to go back and unblock the application. Not liking loose strings in my live this became a source of consternation. I wanted my farm gone and obliterated into the oblivion of the Internet Matrix, but the evil developers of Farmville would not allow this to happen, so I was compelled to write them a letter.
Politely and diplomatically I told them that even though I enjoyed my time on Farmville it was time for me to bid them adieu. I also didn’t want to travel to my 2nd farm in the “English Countryside” as one farm was more than enough for me to handle and it was ruining my social life, spare time and most importantly it’s fucking with my blogging!
I wanted my farm to be deleted, auctioned off and/or destroyed! In the absence of the option of deletion I requested them to create a devastating natural disaster to annihilate my farm and everything on it. I ended my relatively desperate sounding e-mail with “I’m tired, my real garden and pets are neglected and I already have two jobs and farming just isn’t my thing”. To date the demons/developers at Farmville HQ are yet to respond to my request and my two damn farms (they have forced me to have a Farm in “England” now too!) are still standing and are barely flourishing.
Farmville is evil! If you haven’t played it don’t try it. The game will get you hooked like crack and make your work like a cheap red light district transvestite whore for Farmville cash. It will feed on your time, your bandwidth, make you get up at 5 o’clock in the morning and have you rush back home in a panic about missing a harvesting deadline. I am now stuck with two farms which I am incapable of deleting and have no interest of farming. Two farms with adorable little animals, buildings and decorations that I feel too sorry for to delete individually. It’s not normal for a virtual world to exert so much influence over a person’s life, maybe I shouldn’t check out Mafia Wars then! Be warned Farmville will engulf you given half a chance.
Did you not know there were rules for Facebook etiquette?Well there are.Here are the 10 rules of Facebook Etiquette.Remember having good Facebook manners and the “Electric Friendship Generator” will be more fun for everyone.
Oh. My. God. Barbie has gone from wholesome busty career chick, to slutty tattooed pseudo stripper who’s totally trying to rock the Japanese Lolita fashion fad. To add insult to injury she also changed her name to Tokidoki. I kid you not! Did Barbie finally accept her once true love Ken was gay? Is Barbie going through yet another midlife crisis? Has Barbie, uhm I mean Tokidoki, watched one too many episode of Jersey Shores? Well, in an effort to figure out what the hell was going on, I sat down with Tokidoki (aka Barbie) to find out if there were more behind those closet doors in her Dream House than her ever-expanding wardrobe.
At the age of 52 I think we can all admit Barbie looks good for her age. Considering that Barbie has had over 120 different careers, thus far, and do not have a single wrinkle or frown-line to prove it is also a feat in itself. As for her personal life, we all know that things have not fared that well. Barbie first met Ken on the set of a television show back in 1961.
Despite being together for 43 years and, up until their very public breakup in 2004 two days shy of Valentine’s Day, Ken never once popped the question. This left Barbie to obsessively buy wedding dresses she would never wear. After the Ken debacle Barbie sought comfort in the arms of an Australian surfer dude called Blaine, but again Barbie never quite made it down the aisle. With Barbie’s newest look, I wanted to know what prompted this radical transformation and whether the men and her past had anything to do with it.
Barbie arrived for our interview one hour and twenty minutes late smelling of cheap whisky and cigarettes. Looking slightly disheveled and still a tad drunk she fell into her chair, whipped away a strand of wayward pink locks from her cheek and said “Let’s get this thing started”. Not being quite sure what I could call her, Barbie or Tokidoki, I asked which she’d prefer to which she responded with a naughty grin “Honey, you can call me anything you like as long as we get this done in under an hour”. And with that the interview started.
Not being used to seeing Barbie all tattooed and whored up I could not help but ask her what was up with this new look. Barbie explained that she was tired of being this goody two shoed pillar of good behavior and being a “role model”. Tired of having to glam things up and exhausted from fashion fads and relationships that went nowhere. So, she decided to stop, have a good long look at her life and take some inspiration from her friends.
Barbie has always admired Angelina Jolie “That bitch have been married twice, have six children and she managed to bag the ultimate Ken in Brad. Brad is straight, wants to marry her and I wanted to be like her! I want to have that bitch’s life” Barbie rather abrasively explained.
“Things have not been easy for me you know” Barbie mumbled. “My life have not been perfect” and with those words I could tell that Barbie was about to open up. Whether it was the whisky or the reminiscence of the cocaine she had snorted an hour before, Barbie was about to spill the whole shebang.
“Forty three years I was together with that man. Forty three fucking years! And not once did he find an opportune time to tell me he was a flaming faggot? No! Like Liza I pretended not to know. I caught him with the pool boy, then the gardener and then with Blaine. Bisexual they said they were. And I believed them! To be honest, I didn’t mind him fucking other guys but the least that bastard could have done is marry me. MARRY ME!!! I wanted a wedding! A bloody Wedding! Was that too much to ask for?!” Barbie sobbed and asked for another whisky, a Marlboro and a tissue.
As Barbie dried her tears smearing her mascara, gulped down her drink and puffed on her cigarette she sighed and said “But this is not about them. This is about me. I made a choice to move on with my life”. Barbie explained that shortly following her last fallout with Blaine having received his and Ken’s wedding invitation, she decided to go lesbian.
“I’ve always surrounded myself with beautiful women and I have always secretly wondered what it would be like, so I tried it and I liked it”. Barbie went on a carpet and dairy dispensing munching diet for 8 straight months. “I scissored, muffed and fingered my way to clarity” Barbie said with glint in her eye that showed no regret.
“I am a strong woman but I can also be hurt. But with all pain comes healing and with healing comes change.” Barbie explained that a mere wardrobe change would not suffice and she wanted a drastic change. So she went under the needle and got tattooed, dyed her hair pink and sluttified her wardrobe.
“This is how I feel today - liberated, branded and vibrant!” Barbie said with a bit of a tiger’s growl and rejuvenation in her voice. When asked if she had been told about the controversy amongst parents with regards to her new look she responded “Sure they’re pissed off. Sure they don’t like it. But isn’t it time they actually start parenting their own kids? For God sakes, parents these days are so damn lazy! I swear if there were an APP they could download to raise their kids for them they would. It’s not my job to do that, I am not their nanny!” she said as she snuffed out her cigarette.
“Doll, I am late and got to fly. I have a hot date tonight and I might just get lucky!” Barbie said as she ended our brief interview. Curious as I am, I could not let her go without asking “Man or woman?” to which she provocatively bit her pinky and responded “Android!” And with that Barbie blew out of the room as she had entered, and with the smell of whisky and Marlboro’s still hanging thick in the air I was left with as many questions as answers about the enigma that is Barbie. Or should I rather say Tokidoki.
Millions of people wear purple on Spirit Day as a sign of support for gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender (GLBT) youth and to speak out against bullying. Spirit Day was started in 2010 by teenager Brittany McMillan as a response to the young people who had taken their own lives. Observed annually on 20 October, individuals, schools, organizations, corporations, media professionals and celebrities wear purple, which symbolizes spirit on the rainbow flag. Getting involved is easy - participants are asked to simply "go purple" on 20 October as we work to create a world in which LGBT teens are celebrated and accepted for who they are. Learn more & go purple at www.glaad.org/spiritday.
For an app to make your profile picture purple click HERE.
God writes that on the fifth day of the creation he pretty much had the place set up already. He looked around at his creation and saw it was good. But then, in his infinite wisdom, realized it would make for good administrative sense to establish a new middle-managerial position. So as a final act and to fulfill the vacancy he created Adam. God envisaged Adam to be not only the planetary caretaker but also an attractive and likeable spokesperson in the event something goes grievously wrong. With Adam up and about God decided to take the seventh day off, lounge around and let Adam run the show to test his competency in his new post.
Adam passed the test. He had a good rapport with all God’s creatures, a fabulous eye for landscaping and God was pleased. However, Adam was lonely and turned to incessant masturbation to overcome his solitude bespattering the whole of paradise. So one night God slipped Adam a roofie and while he was in a deep slumber he created Steve. Steve was a hunk, not very smart, ripped, cut, hung and the best of all – a power bottom.
When Adam awoke and fist laid his eyes on Steve he wept with joy. They were naked, unashamed and found each other’s loins to be a wonderland to be explored every chance they got. But, the innocence of carnal love was being observed by a rather jealous and closeted malevolent being. The snake watched Adam and Steve and decided to break them up. One day the snake slithered up to Steve, knowing he’s no intellectual Olympian, and told him that the fruit of Tree of Knowledge That Your Lifestyle Is Sinful would intensify his orgasm, when in fact it would only prolong it with forty-five minutes. Steve believed the lie.
Steve ate the fruit and seduced Adam to do the same and the knowledge that their lifestyle was sinful shamed them but also aroused them. They entwined themselves unceasingly until dawn. Came morning they grew embarrassed and shopped for their fall collection of fig leaves and proceeded to hide from God in the garden. When God arrived he search high and low and finally found them. “Father, there’s something we need to tell thee: we are gay” Adam and Steve hesitatingly confessed. God visibly surprised was taken aback after all how would they know this?
Steve explained “Lord it is true, the snake convinced me to eat the fruit from the forbidden tree and I gave a fruit to Adam too. We now know we are not only here, but queer.” God was enraged with the snake for ruining everything. “I created Steve of the same gender as Adam so they could not breed and would be free to focus on their gardening careers”. But the damage was done. After thoroughly chastising the snake God turned his full attention to Adam and Steve.
“Damn it! I knew I should have made you lesbians! Then you would have tended the garden with more diligence and would have been more outdoorsy in general. But you have been disobedient and for that I must now inflict upon you the harshest punishment possible – Transforming you from carefree young lovers living in the heart of everything, to a married couple with kids stuck in the suburbs.”
With that God changed poor hunky Steve into a woman so that he may bear young. God did however give him the choice of his own female name with one condition– it must rhyme with 'Steve’. The condition being so that in 6000 years from then the righteous can use it to create the most insane slogan of all time “God Created Adam and Eve and NOT Adam and Steve”. Quite ironic don't you think?
Till next time.
This was my interpretation of Chapter 4 and 5, you can Purchase "The Last Testament: A Memoir by God" as written by God and David Javerbaum HERE
Slap me in the face and call me Sally. I have to admit that I have the Techno-addiction. My BlackBerry have become like an additional limb and an electronic enhancement to my frontal lobe. I use it extensively and I never quite realized to what extend it has become an integral part of my life. After all, a wide variety of personal electronic devices and cyber platforms are all conveniently integrated and instead of having to carry around several different gadgets you only have one. And when that one device fails you, as I found out this week, you are screwed, screwed without foreplay, an explanation, consideration, KY or the option of a happy ending.
What makes this worse is the fact that when are at the precipice of such a electronic fail fuckfest you don’t even realize it and once you do there is nothing to prepare you for what is to come. My BlackBerry has not been working for the last three days and RIM (Research in Motion and NOT that thing you do to your boyfriend’s ass) ignored us. In the wake of the worst outage and Public Relations disaster by BlackBerry and RIM, and looking at my lifeless BlackBerry not being as smart a phone as it was four days earlier, I could not help but wonder – is this the beginning of the end for BlackBerry?
On Monday I was preparing for a business trip which I was leaving for on Tuesday. This time I was planning on driving instead of flying (carbon emissions & reducing my carbon footprint and all) and as such I needed to load the relevant addresses and coordinates onto my Garmin GPS on my BlackBerry. I managed to load two addresses successfully before the first inkling of the impending crisis arose.
As I was searching for the third address I got a “server connection error”. I tried several more times and got the same error. Thinking it was only a temporary glitch with Garmin, I decided to take a break to check my Twitter account. The last Twitter feed was recorded at 12:04pm. Oblivious to the fact that the BlackBerry apocalypse had started, I tried to refresh my Twitter feed and nothing happened. I checked my Facebook and that was dead too. So I hard rebooted my phone and at 13:12 it became clear - my phone was busted!
Firmly believing it was a problem with my phone; I logged onto Twitter via my laptop and asked whether anyone of my followers knew of any problem(s) with BlackBerry. Then the floodgates opened and #BlackBerry was being flooded with angry messages. BlackBerry was down in Africa. “What the fuck? How is that possible?” I thought.
Then Twitter messages streamed in from Asia and Europe, BlackBerry was down there too! Naturally thinking that BlackBerry would be aware that millions of people’s services were down, I checked out @BlackBerryHelp on Twitter. @BlackBerryHelp was tweeting everything except about the outage. If I didn’t know any better I would have thought BlackBerry didn’t know something was wrong. Naturally, my next step was to check out RIM’s website hoping to find a press release or at least some information about what was going on. What I found was astounding.
For two days RIM did not respond with a concise explanation. Only yesterday did they decide to release a vague explanation about this international crisis. Apparently some “switch” failed and the backup “switch” failed also, resulting in an epic fail for BlackBerry affecting Europe, Asia, Africa, Canada, North America and South America. Curiously, RIM also added that they have not been hacked and that the integrity of their systems has not been compromised. In the meantime all the pompous IPhone users were laughing their asses off at all the distraught BlackBerry users, but the biggest giggles I think must have come from Steve Jobs. As for me I was still being screwed and it was no laughing matter.
Being away from an Internet connection I was completely cut off from the outside world. No Facebook, no Twitter, no News RSS feeds and no damn GPS. I was out of town, at a place I don’t know from shit, completely isolated and I had to go places blind. Do you know when last I actually used a real map? Back in 2004, that’s when! I had no BBM, had no clue what was going on and I was reduced to using text messages. TEXT MESSAGES!
My 48 hour business trip could have easily gone awry had it not been for my natural instincts and a vague memory of how things were done back in the mid 90’s. I made it to all my appointments and manage to find my way back home. The 600 bucks speeding fine I got (which is a whole different blog post altogether) I also blame on the BlackBerry blackout! When I got home I went onto the Internet to try to learn more about the outage. I discovered that more sinister than RIM’s lame ass excuse for the blackout is the conspiracy theories that were surfacing. Maybe you have heard some of them.
Isn’t it odd that BlackBerry experienced the worst week ever just as Apple is about to release their new IPhone and applications that will rival and exceed that of BlackBerry? Isn’t it peculiar that BlackBerry had the worst recorded outage in recent history barely a week after the passing of Steve Jobs amidst fears that Apple’s stock price would plummet, but now BlackBerry’s stock price did instead? Why did RIM insist on saying they were not hacked or compromised, maybe they were. If they had been all affected BlackBerry users may have been unknowingly pick pocketed and your e-mail-, social media- and even bank accounts could have been compromised, your passwords stolen and not to mention all that “personal information” stored on their servers possibly now not being so “personal” or “private” anymore. Is all of this just one big coincident, I’ll let you decide for yourself?
With what must have been the worst week for BlackBerry since they started back in 1999, I cannot help but wonder if they will ever fully recover. I am sure that their Public Relations crisis management or the lack thereof will be studied in business schools for years to come. As for consumer confidence, I am not sure it will ever be fully restored. After all, this is not the first time this has happened, but unfortunately for them this time it happened on a much larger scale. The fact that there was no communication from them in this regard also did not help matters or boost confidence either.
With RIM already struggling with delays in getting new phones out, a tablet that's been a dud, shares that are approaching a five-year low and sales noticeably down, could this be the beginning of the end for them? I guess only time will tell. As for me, I am due for an upgrade in 2012 and whether I will choose BlackBerry again is largely undecided. I do love my IPod, maybe it is time to get a matching IPone?
Los Angeles rock band Life Down Here opened the 2011 Lady Killer tour's West Hollywood show at the Roxy on September 3rd. "It was my first time opening on a gay & lesbian tour, but it definitely won't be my last," said Life Down Here singer, 19-year old Michelle Blanchard. "Sharing a stage with Vanity Theft, Hunter Valentine and Sick of Sarah was an absolute honor and I hope to play with them again."
Playing a short, fun set that definitely got the crowd pumped, the pop-punk quartet brought the kind of energy audiences beg for from an opening act. “For me it's cool because I'm a guitar player and a singer so everyone gets to see me taking the leads rather than just listening to the album on its own," said Blanchard.
Delivering a combination of fierce vocals and ripping guitar riffs Blanchard is a multi-talented musician who writes all of the band's lyrics. "All of my songs are written about my life - anything from relationships and just being who you are, to mental institutions and suicide."
As an openly gay artist, Blanchard's unapologetic attitude in terms of her sexual preference is empowering, especially for those passing through adolescence. "As it is for any other kid, growing up isn't easy, you get picked on for your hair, the way you talk, the way you dress-- now imagine getting made fun of for all of that and then being gay on top of it," said Blanchard. "I was lucky to have a lot of accepting friends, but it's pretty interesting being one of a handful of lesbians in your school."
Inspired by the door-opening work of Melissa Etheridge, Blanchard admires Etheridge's ability to blur the lines of demarcation on sexuality and in turn create something listeners from all walks of life can connect with. "Melissa Etheridge is definitely one of my idols. The music she writes is usually about a failed relationship or a new interest- but whether you're straight or gay she does it in a way that is relatable for everyone; and, that's what I love most about her," said Blanchard. "Being gay is something to be proud of if you are, it doesn't mean that you are different than anyone else."
Creating the feel-good vibes one expects from punk predecessors like the Bouncing Souls, Life Down Here’s lyrical content is intertwined with a myriad of intensity. One song in particular, "Calling Out," came to life after several devastating suicide cases occurred within Blanchard's group of friends while attending high school in Las Vegas. "I chose to write about it because everyone goes through a rough time and it's not an alien thing to have suicidal feelings-- the "what if I commit suicide, would people care?" said Blanchard. “And yes we care, we care deeply! So that song to me, is directed toward anyone who's having a rough time-- I want to let listeners know it’s okay to feel pain, it's okay to feel sadness it's natural, but everything's going to be fine and you'll make it through in the end."
The turnout was large for such an early show, and it became clear as the catchy chorus-lines seemed to flow freely from the crowd's lips in sync with the band, that the group was in part responsible. For a young artist, Life Down Here’s recent participation on the Lady Killer tour has helped Blanchard develop a better idea of what she wants in terms of her future in music. "I strive to be as good of performers as they are" said Blanchard humbly. "Opening for them made me realize that I should definitely start opening for other gay rock acts because that's exactly the scene I want and need to be in."
“No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don’t want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life’s change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true." - Steve Jobs (Stanford commencement speech, June 2005)
Now I don’t have much love for telemarketers and I have in the past thrown a few fits and insults their way.However, I don’t think anyone can beat this old lady’s 8 minutes and 51 second tantrum.I am not completely convinced that she is in touch with reality, but it is quite hilarious to listen too regardless.The fact that the telemarketer speaks to her in his “phone sex line” voice probably also didn’t help the situation much!
Gay Pride is one of the few events in life that will get my lazy ass out of bed for at 6:30am on a Saturday morning; quite a feat as most of you know I am not much of a morning person. This year hubby and I decided to attend Johburg Pride with the Queen and the theme was quite appropriately “Born this Gay”. Johburg Pride is the longest running and biggest Gay Pride event that’s hosted on the African continent, and this year marked my 4th attendance. It was a long and fun filled day, and with Pride now done-and-dusted and the streets of Johannesburg strewn with pink feathers and glitter, I thought it appropriate to reflect here on some of the highlights and low lights of this year’s Pride.
Pride morning started with a phone call at 6:10am from the Queen “Are you bitches up yet? You are still picking me up, right? We have to leave the mansion at 9am sharp!” Being royal subjects by default of age, we obliged, fluffed our feathers and shot through to Johannesburg. We picked up the Queen and made our way to the park where Pride was being hosted. With a slight breeze with and a bit of a chill in the air we casually strolled through Zoo Lake on route to the main event area.
During our relaxed stroll the Queen whimsically pointed out all the spots the guys use to cruise each other back in the day when it was still save to do so. With a rather naughty and bashful tone he told us of all the beautiful guys he used to hook-up with while in his prime; he told us of the one time on Christmas eve back in the early 80’s when the police busted him and another guy but eventually let them go in the spirit of the holidays “Those were the days, the good old days” he satisfyingly said with a twinkle in his eye. The Queen also recalled that he used to see his now life partner of well over 20 years also cruising at the same spots, and never in his wildest dreams did he ever thought they would hook-up and stay together for so many years.
A short while later we arrive at the Pride venue. We were about an hour early and there were already loads of people streaming in. We made our way to the queue where we had to exchange our cash for “pink money”, the only currency that would be accepted at the venue that day, or so they said. Coincidentally, “pink money” also ended up being the only currency that day that we would not be able to convert back into cash later, something they conveniently forgot to tell us.
After getting our purple tokens we eagerly stalked the venue before the parade would start on the lookout to buy some gay stuff. You know, some pride memorabilia, T-shirts, key chains, stickers, that kinda gay stuff. We search the approximate 20 stalls high-and-low and could not find anything worth buying. The closest thing I could find and bought was a rather dishevelled looking pink feather boa. Another queer observation was that not only did the stalls utterly underwhelm and was a downright waste of space the “pink money” was not accepted there – they only took cash. The stalls and exhibitions gave the distinct impression of being an afterthought and as such were highly forgettable and regrettable.
Closer to the starting time of the parade people arrived in droves and there were an estimated 20 000 people that pitched up at the end. The venue was fast filling up and there were loads to gawk at, laugh at and be amazed by. From the overly flamboyant drag queens, leather daddies, guys on stilts, dykes on bikes and dogs in tutus the queers came out in full dress and came clad to impress.
As the parade started hubby, I and the Queen decided to choose a good vantage point from which to check out the floats. After all, what is a Gay Parade without floats? But, I am sad to say that this year’s floats were rather disappointing and noticeably some nightclubs that normally have floats at Pride were visibly absent. Were there some gay politics to blame? Who knows? Not a single float this year stood out as being exceptional and the bad ones were aplenty.
After the Parade we decided to get some food, which leads me to another low light of this year’s Pride. There was only one food stall, the selection was pitiful and the service was atrocious. We were famished and had to wait for an hour to get our food and once we got our order it was disappointing and the antithesis of tasty. These Queens were neither impressed nor happy. But mediocre and overpriced food and drinks didn’t dampen our mood and we basked in the gayness of Pride for a few hours longer.
The nice thing about Pride is that it’s not only a time to celebrate our community but also brings us together, and if you get 20 000 queers in one place you are bound to bump into people you know, and as such we did. Hubby and I saw friends we have not seen in years, I finally got to meet my blogging chum GeeGee Curtailed and even bumped into an estranged friend who were so tweaked out on something I think he barely remember seeing us, again reminding me why we’re no longer friends. But having forgotten to put on my sun block and having slow roasted to a medium rare in the sun the whole day, by late afternoon we decided to go back to the mansion and have a quick rest before getting ready for the Fireman’s Ball. A ball that had been hyped up to be the Gay Pride After Party of the year for which we just happened to have VIP tickets.
By early evening we had a quick supper and we started getting ready for the much anticipated Fireman’s ball. The Queen had a little freak out after he discovered that the temporary tattoo he got at Pride which was plastered on the back of his shaved head wasn’t that temporary after all. Horrified that he would have to live with a big black dragon at the back of his head for the next four weeks, he finally calmed down once we reached the ball. Like the parade, again we were early – I blame the Queen!
A roughly 9:00pm the doors were to open, and there was a queue that formed well before then. It was raining and it was cold and we were standing shivering our little gay fannies off with our VIP tickets in hand. We stood in the cold well past 9pm hoping that in the end the party would be worth it. But it wasn’t. As it turned out the 200 bucks a piece we paid for our VIP tickets was as wasteful and productive as pissing into the wind. Having a guy with a perverted expression on his face stick his hand in front of my face asking me to smell it is not my idea of fun and neither is waiting 20 minutes to get served a drink.
The fact that they also didn’t have my particular drink in stock further compounded my displeasure with the ball. Then there were the VVIP’s who had cordoned off seating next to the main dance floor, the section “guarded” by a very unfriendly looking bouncer. The VVIP’s looked as bumptious as to be expected but also looked as if they were having as much fun a rotisserie chickens under a grill. The Queens at some point retreated to their mansion without saying goodbye and hubby and I left just after 12:30am and arrived home very tired and very sober. Not quite the usual ending to a Pride celebration we are accustomed to.
All things considered Pride was not as it was before. I got the distinct impression that Gay Pride has gone from an actual celebration to an event that is run like a badly organized machine, chasing profits and instead of celebrating our community we are actually being exploited for our cash. When and how this had happened I am not quite sure.
This year’s Pride was supposed to bring corrective rape of lesbians to the attention of the world and I did not see that happening. One lonely cross in the parade with homemade A4 printed pages stuck to it hardly brought the issue to the fore front or home to the South African public. I think we need to seriously re-evaluate Gay Pride and its values, as this year I think we have lost the plot and it saddens me. After all I was born this gay and not born just to pay the way.
