Homo for the Holidays

Homo for the Holidays a "Born this Way" parody but with Jesus. 

Happy Holidays Y'all

Yes, it is that time of year and I am wishing you a happy holidays.

Santa's Baby

Are you in the holiday mood yet? Jackie Beat sings her scandalous parody of Santa Baby, in a video by Austin Young!

The Battle of the Christmas Trees!

It’s that time of year again. In a couple of weeks it will be Christmas, or as I like to call it ‘The Silly Season”. This is the one time of year when the child in all of us can be released with reckless abandon in the midst of all the plush and splendor associated with the festive season. The centerpiece of any self-respecting household symbolizing the Christmas spirit is that all important Christmas Tree. So when it came to selecting a tree, hubby and I unexpectedly found ourselves at opposite poles of the Christmas decorating spectrum which led to what will be going down in our history as ”The Great Battle of the Christmas Trees!”

It all started two weeks ago, December was looming and everywhere Christmas decorations sprouted in shopping centres, office buildings and neighbouring houses. This seeded the thought that maybe we should start planning how we would transform our humble abode into a Christmas wonderland. During our move, two years ago, our old Christmas tree was lost and perhaps luckily so. It was less than a meter tall (just big enough so as to not be too imposing in our then very small apartment), had serviced us for the last 9 years, had seen many a merry Christmas but unfortunately was also close to dilapidated and due for retirement. As we forage through our Christmas decoration treasure-trove the need for a new tree became apparent and was briefly discussed and we were in agreement, or at least that was what I thought. So when hubby brought home his interpretation of our new "Christmas Tree" I was somewhat mortified.

The following Friday hubby arrived home all excited about the tree he had purchased. The excitement was tangible, that was until he fetched the “tree” from the car and ceremoniously unveiled it on the dining room table. Barely 60cm tall it was a pile of sticks (presumably someone’s garden trimmings) hammered together in the form of a pine tree - dreadfully boring, barren, minimalistic and better suited as kindle for a barbecue fire rather than an opulent festive centrepiece. “What is this?” I confusedly asked, secretly hoping it was a practical joke. Elatedly and self impressed hubby responded “It’s our new Christmas tree, don’t you just LOVE it?” I paused for a moment trying to think of an appropriate diplomatic response, but as the reality that this was no practical joke sank in nothing was forthcoming and eventually I confessed that I absolutely hated it!

Hubby was unperturbed by my negative and somewhat icy reception of his newly discovered treasure. He appeared oddly enchanted by the sticks magical powers that I clearly was immune to and underwhelmed by. Hubby proceeded to dress the tree. Faerie lights, a couple of white and silver ceramic ornaments and our precious Chrystal Angle crowning the tree; he then switched on the lights and basked in self satisfaction. The tree looked like autistic woodpecker had build it while on some psychedelic drugs, then proceeded to poop perfectly shaped white ornaments on it with bits and pieces being periodically illuminated – the perfect place for spiders to nest and/or mites to breed. Looking at the pile of wood lit up it, in my mind, did not say Christmas but rather oozed the lackluster death of and total disregard for Christmas’ true essence and with each flickering of lights I grew more annoyed.  This tree had to go!

Naturally having had to stare at Woody the Drug Addict Woodpecker’s artwork for a whole week, this past Friday I proceeded to search for a proper traditional Christmas tree. I searched high and low and eventually found the perfect one. I always wanted to have a white Christmas tree, I am not really sure why, but I found one and took it home. With child like enthusiasm I set it up and dressed it with all the extravagance and grandeur deserving of the Christmas spirit. An hour later and it was ready and proudly erected and brightly illuminated in our lounge waiting to astonish and mesmerize all who gaze upon it. Then hubby arrived home.

Walking into the lounge he was unmoved by my tree’s magnificence, he grunted and proceeded to lecture me on how times are changing and how being stuck in the 1900’s is not a good thing. Apparently my tree was and is symbolic of an historical nostalgic artifact, a conclave of kitsch and not the festive objet d'art I thought it was. Hubby further shared his observation that my tree looked like the product of an hour long vomit fest by our four cats taking turns spewing glitter all over my brilliantly decorated precious beauty. As his tree tirade drew to an end I confidently said “I don’t care, my tree is still prettier than your pile of sticks!” Hubby turned away in disgust.

We didn’t speak for an hour rather opting to take our disagreement to cyberspace and fought it out of Facebook having our adoring friends play referee. During that hour opinions were shared and at the end most of cyberspace’s support was in my favor (I know hubby would beg to diver, but then he’s not writing this blog post now is he?). Eventually we realized our behavior was silly, infantile and unbecoming off the mature adults that we were supposed to be. Eventually we came to our senses and reached an amicable compromise: We both would keep our trees, not make our friends take sides about which tree is better; I will tone down mine and hubby will dress up his. And last but not least hubby will refrain from referring to his tree as a “Christmas Tree” and will do my utmost to stick to the “Less Is More Rule!” which is something I find almost impossible to do especially during Christmas – sigh...

So now our house has two Christmas trees, one minimalistic and understated and the other grand and generous. I don’t know how many other married couples have their own Christmas Trees or even have fights about them; maybe hubby and I are just a tad unconventional and overly adamant regarding our festive views. But one thing is for certain the silly season have only just begun and we sure are in for one hell of an interesting and jolly old time. Ho ho ho!

Till next time.

Jackie Beat - Santa's Baby

Hating Christmas

It’s that time of year. Bells, shiny balls, frosted windows, mistletoe, fat jolly bearded men and Christmas trees are taking over our shopping malls, office buildings and family homes. Seasonal jingles and music are resonating in every shop, elevator and accompanies every second television advertisement. If you don’t like it – tough eggnog! We will be stuck surrounded with festive seasonal paraphernalia well into January 2010. After bitching to my husband about feeling harassed by Christmas he annoyingly responded by saying “Well you never did liked Christmas anyway!”. His response made me sound like Ebenezer Scrooge from the Charles Dickens novel “A Christmas Carol”. It’s not that I don’t like Christmas and needs an urgent visit from the three Ghosts of Christmas, I just find some parts of it intolerably irritating.

The first time I was disillusioned by Christmas was at age 5. You see I may have been a small child but I wasn’t stupid. I figured out that Santa Clause did not really exist by means of logical deduction. For him to be real there could only be one of him, yet I saw many of him in malls. Secondly, he was fat so how the hell could he fit down a chimney and manage to emerge clean as a whistle and not make a mess. Thirdly, his elves was suppose to make my gifts and Santa was suppose to deliver them on Christmas day, yet I saw what I wanted in the toy shops and later discovered my presents, a week in advance, hidden away in my parents’ closet.

Armed with these three primary facts I confronted my mother. She fervently defended his existence up to the point when she realized I was not going to budge. She finally asked me "If Santa really didn’t exist would it spoil your Christmas?" to which I responded "Only if that meant I was not going to be getting my presents". A brief further discussion settled the matter and no family member had to impersonate Santa Clause again after this.

I find the fact frightening that Christmas advertisements and decorations start appearing as early as mid November with the full onslaught the beginning of December. It’s like a countdown to one massive shopping spree that is being forced upon me. Naturally I want to spoil my loved ones with something special; I just don’t like the pressure! Being an enormous procrastinator when it comes to Christmas shopping I always find myself in the unfortunate circumstance of having to do my shopping a couple of days before Christmas.

Reaching the mall you never find parking in under an hour and once you have, going into any mall, during this time, is like being dropped in the Amazon River during a piranha feeding frenzy. Not being fond of big crowds and being well aware that I am not the only stressed out shopper, I have noticed that this brings out the worst in people. I once saw two women actually fighting over the last Tickle-Me-Elmo toy which was all the rage for kids that year, it was a vicious fight and at the end of the day neither got the toy and security escorted them out of the shop. I too have done the same. I am not proud of it, but it’s like the demon spirit of Christmas shopping overwhelms you and you just can’t help yourself. The stress of shopping, the background music, the decorations and angst all combines to turn normal people into raging idiots with credit cards.

Christmas is all about the joy of giving, or so they say... Yes, I do enjoy giving presents and seeing the joy of the recipients. However, getting to that point is the annoying bit - I cannot gift wrap anything! In the past I have made some brave attempts but always failed as the gifts usually ended up looking as if they were in a car wreck. If the item has an odd shape never attempt gift wrapping it yourself, one such endeavor took two hours of my life which I will never get back and I can’t recall ever cursing any inanimate object that much in my life before or after that day.

Luckily I am married to a brilliantly creative man who can gift wrap a garden fork and make it look spectacular. The planning he puts into the theme, color scheme and gift wrapping accessories is just insane, and all the presents we give are uniquely branded after he’s done with them and puts all the other gifts to shame no matter what their content.

Food is the one thing I truly love about Christmas and I enjoy preparing it. This is the one thing I can honestly say I am good at during the festive season. Give me a budget, a well equipped kitchen and hungry mouths and I am quite content. Unfortunately this is also the one territory off which I am fiercely competitive and brings out the Martha Steward Bitch in me.

When the family gathers and each member have to bring a different dish, mine absolutely MUST be the best! So screw desert, screw starters and side dishes I will do the main course and it will be bloody magnificent!! Many members of my family have tried to upstage my dishes in the past and all have failed miserably, but on the upside this rivalry always makes for a fabulous feast.

Christmas is a time of joy, giving and spending time with one’s family. Admittedly there are aspects leading up to the actual day that I find tedious and irritating. I don’t like Santa Clause even though he’s not real I still think the fat bastard should go on a diet. I don’t like the fact that I have to spend an hour looking for parking at a mall and then have to fight off other shoppers to purchase the presents I’m looking for. I don’t like gift wrapping or having to stand in a queue to have it done professionally, but luckily I have a husband who does that with flair, enthusiasm and for free.

I am no Ebenezer Scrooge hating Christmas as I actually love it, I just don’t like the technicalities and the buildup. But once the day arrives, all annoyances are soon forgotten and festivity fulls the air with joy and peace.

Till next time.

Jackie Beat-Santa's Baby

Dipping my toes into fire

This is my first blog and it is scary as hell!!!!

My first thought when my husband suggested i start one was "what the fuck have you been smoking?!" No one on the net would want to read what I have to say. Then I had a couple glasses of wine and the idea didn't seem as stupid or daunting, after all alcohol does give one courage to attempt all thing against better judgment. Then when the buzz of the alcohol really kicked in the idea seemed even better, because why should I only bore him with my rantings and ravings if I can do it with so many more people out there, and also bore them into a second rate non Valium induced coma. So here goes, my first blog entry.

I just returned from a very nice and relaxing holiday, or rather the week at the beach was the nice and relaxing part - before that was xmas and family and all the drama and family stress that goes along with it (if you have ever cooked a turkey and had one unsavoury family member you wish would have been dead by now you would know what I mean).

I planned my holiday in such a way that I could get the family part out of the way first because:

1) I am married so hence there are two families to keep happy;

2) My family is dysfunctional but I love my sister and she had her second child on 15 December 2008, so I kinda knew that this part of the family would be little effort as new baby equals "low key: get the family out of my house by 10pm";

3) My father is screwed up and I knew he and my codependent psychopath stepmother would try and fuck xmas up for all of us, so I had to be prepared for that drama;

4) My in-laws, who I also love to bits, are very big on xmas and it is always a production. With production, i mean you need staff and a project manager to coordinate the "event"!!!

Xmas went of as planned. We left my sister's house at 21:40 and everything before that was very pleasant and we all had a fabulous time. As expected my stepmother did phone me two days before xmas and tried her usual demonic psychodrama on me, but due to me being hung over, from the night before, I lacked the attention span to be adequately affected. The Xmas extravaganza at the in-laws was a major success, apart from my sister-in-laws desert that bombed - i am sure she cried herself to sleep, as my turkey was fucking amazing!!!!!

My beach holiday was relaxing. Mother nature was not as kind as she should have been, but we made the most of the days of sunshine we had which we spend on the beach, sunbathing and swimming. I love the ocean. It one of the places that makes me feel safe and at peace. Watching the waves role in, hearing them brake on the shore, feeling the cool mist on my face and the smell of the sea puts my sole to rest.

It funny how you never quite put much thought into what goes on under the water. The last day we spent at the beach I had a little diving accident. I was diving underneath a wave a scraped off the top layer of skin of my noose. I didn't realize this until my husband pointed out to me that it was bleeding. Now I am standing shoulder deep in the sea, where I know there are quite a few sharks not so far off shore, and I I'm bleeding. I kicked into drama queen mode, still trying to keep my composure. In my mind I was bleeding profusely (actually it was less than one drop of blood squeezing it's way through not so baldy damaged skin). All the National Geographic shark attack programs plays through my head and the only thing I can remember is - sharks can smell a drop of blood from miles away!

I need to get out of here!!!!

I spot at least five people in close proximity and calculate my chances of getting out of the water alive at 80%, as they are all fatter than me and I am convinced a shark would go for a victim with more meat. Not trying to look as if i am freaking out I gracefully try and swim towards shore. I use the excuse to my husband that I am cold and think it's time to get out. He looks at me (I know he knows my real motive and he can see me trying to conceal my panic) but the gentle sole he is he agrees and we make it safely to sore all limbs in tact.


New years eve we decide to go to the only gay club in the town we are spending our holiday. Going to a dodgy gay club beats sitting in an apartment listening to fireworks and hearing other people get drunk and having good, don't you think?

We arrive at the club and I swear it's no bigger than our apartment at home. All the people look weird! For a few hours we weren't even sure it was a gay club. We had a few drinks and settled into this queer setup and I figured things out - all these people were bisexual (or at least that's their cover story). The biggest queens were there with their "girlfriends" who in a few years will become their fag hags and the butch guys were on the prowl for "straight girls". What a load of bullshit! Most of the butch guys there will end up being nelly bottoms eventually! The whole night my husband and I were the only gay people there who ever made any physical contact with each other. It felt like Mormon bazaar.

As we left there at 4am in the morning I had a strange sense of sadness for all the regular patrons of that dreadful establishment as I asked my myself the question "How the hell does any gay person ever get laid in a place like that?"

Having survived xmas and new years eve, I look towards 2009 with a cautious optimism. If have made it this far in 31 years and I sure as hell can make it through 2009. There will be highs and there will be lows, and I am sure to share it with all who read this blog.



Till next time.