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I just love vintage advertisement.  Usually they are a great source of amusement to me.  So imagine my delight when I stumbled across these three ads on Pinterest this morning.  They were too good to keep to myself. (Click on the image to enlarge)

Public Toilets & the Diseases You Can Catch

It is no secret that I detest public toilets.  They are nothing but Germ Incubators used by people with questionable personal hygiene.  I say this because you do not know what a stranger’s hand washing habits are like, whether they are wearing clean underwear and fresh socks or where their hands and butt cheeks have been.  Until proven otherwise it is always wise to assume the absolute worst and wipe every surface that is to touch your skin with antibacterial wipes.  Sure this might sound excessive to you but I promise after you have read what I am about to share, you will view Germ Incubators with the same disgust as I do.

I squirm at the thought of creepy germs that lurk on toilet seats, faucet handles and door handles in public toilets.  For this reason I spent as little time in them as possible.  And during those nerve-wracking moments when I am forced by my bodily functions to venture into one, I usually find myself opening the stall door with my elbow, crouching precariously above the toilet seat while avoiding touching anything and flush with it my shoe.  Sure this might sound a tad neurotic, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.

Research have found that the average public toilet could harbor E Coli and the Shigella bacteria, Hepatitis A, the common cold virus and various sexually transmitted organism like Crabs, Chlamydia and Gonorrhea.  To make matters worse, the average person touch their face between two to three thousand times a day and it is possible that you will touch your face in the toilet before you even get a chance to wash your hands, thereby contaminating your face with bacteria, viruses or STD organisms!  That’s right.  You can innocently stroll into the public loo to number two and leave with crabs or the bird flu or BOTH!

Just the other day at my office my bowels needed to move.  Normally my very personal bodily functions are on a strict routine and timed in such a way that I never have to sit on any foreign toilet seat.  But this day my timing was off.  Whether it was due to the Chinese food I had the night before or whether the universe decided my life was too boring and needed some spicing up, I do not know.  Being the public toilet phobe that I am, I ignored it.  You see I function better under pressure and if it wasn’t “I am about to shit my pants” time, I saw no need to expose myself Cholera or the Ebola virus.

An hour passed.  Then it happened and my body gave me the signal that it was time.  So I made my way to our floor’s men’s room.  It should be noted that my department share our floor with the IT department and they have some very nasty fast food eating habits and their eating habits translates into a lot of bad smells and confused and angry stomachs.  In light of this, combined with my Germ and Bubonic Plague Phobia, I approached the restroom hesitantly and with utter dread.

After opening the door with my elbow I was horrified to find that I was not the only one in there.  The stall next to the one I was about to use was occupied.  Another thing you should know about me is that I can’t pee if someone is watching me and I can’t poop if I am not alone.  But my body didn’t care, I needed to expel some waste and I needed to do it now.  After wiping the toilet seat down with antibacterial wipes I sat down and tried as best I could to go quietly.

Half way through my bowel movement I heard the person next to me finishing up.  He opened his stall’s door, flushed the toilet and left without washing his hands.  He just had a shit, wiped his ass and didn’t wash his hands!  While breathing in his feces air particles that were released when he flushed his toilet, I sat there hyperventilating and freaking the fuck out!

“It’s 11:30am and there is a person on my floor touching stuff, touching stuff I touch with feces on his hands!  I am going to have his feces on my hands!  Motherfucker!” I thought with utter dismay.  Who does that?  Who goes to the toilet, takes a dump and then leaves without even washing their hands?  Are people who do things like this raised by fucking homeless people?  If a person does this at work, what the hell goes on in their homes?  The more I thought about it the more disturbed I got.  Till this day I still don’t know who it was but I do have my suspicions.  But this is not the worst of it.

Not washing your hands is one thing but shedding your pubic hair is a whole different story.  You see not only do we have a non-hand-washer and feces spreader to deal with at our office, we also have a guy who sheds his ball hair.  I have found pubes on the toilet seat, the urinal and the basin.  It evokes a similar reaction in me as that time I found dry cum stains on a certain hotel room’s wall.  It’s disgusting.  It should not be there.  It makes me feel violated.  It is just plain wrong.

What if this jungle bush pube shedder catches the crabs or the syphilis?  Are we going to get it to?  Does he even know he is shedding worse than my five cats combined?  Going to the restroom and finding his pubes is upsetting and always serve as just another reminder that I am sharing that space with other people.  People who I don’t always know.  People with questionable personal hygiene.  The same as with the feces hands guy, I do not know who pubes guys is, but with him I too have my suspicions.

Going into a public toilet is like playing Russian roulette at the CDC’s most secure virus vault.  Every time you go in there you run the risk of contaminating yourself with other people’s germ, catching a super virus or helping a new virus mutate.  The worst must be restrooms at airports especially in Muslim countries.  I remember my experience at Cairo’s International Airport vividly.  The floor was wet, stuff was floating around my feet and it smelled like shit.  That’s exactly why I now won’t eat anything strange or spicy before a long trip and why contracting food poisoning by eating crab cakes from a buffet before an international flight never ends well.

Yes, public toilets are perilous places with a gauntlet of viruses, bacteria and fatal diseases you must successfully navigate and avoid.  Sure, public toilets are needed and we sometimes have no choice but to use them but when we do we must try and be safe.  Remember just because you have excellent personal hygiene doesn’t mean the gazillion other people who have been there before you do too.  There are some pretty disgusting people out there and chances are they used the loo before you.

Till next time.

What Straight Folks Should Know

Believe it or not, but I deal with a lot of heterosexual people on a daily basis.  Call it an occupational hazard if you will.  You see, I am not lucky enough to work in a queer dominated environment and some days are harder than others for this lone homosexual.  But I somehow always seem to make it through the day, most times, only partially unscathed.  So in an effort to make our coexistence with our straight folk more amiable, this Feigele decided to come up with a few handy hints for heterosexuals when meeting and/or interacting with queer folk.

The average heterosexual who has never interacted with or met a homosexual could display behavior very similar to that of a cat when introduced to another feline for the very first time.  The heterosexual could feel anxious, threatened and could even display territorial behavior.  This is normal.  When faced with this situation it is important to fight the urge to run screaming from the room.  This is rude and will only agitate the homosexual.  It’s better to rather just back away facing the homosexual and to do so slowly and with discretion.

Not all heterosexuals feel the urge to flee at the sight of homosexuals as some find us quite intriguing.  Unfortunately these are also usually the same individuals who are inherently narcissistic.  These are the type of people who believe that everything with a pulse is sexually attracted to them.  When it comes to homosexuals do not assume that all homosexuals are attracted to you or want to get into your pants.

The typical homosexual has very specific and high standards and chances are good that you don’t meet or even come close to them.  On the flip side, also do not assume that the homosexual is not attracted to you.  Sure this sounds confusing, and it really is, but homosexuals are notoriously fickle and changing our minds on a whim is our thing.  Besides if the homosexual is horny standards tend to go by the waste side anyway.  So to be on the safe side all heterosexuals should always carry with them some KY and condoms.

One of the most common mistakes the average heterosexual make is to assume that the homosexual is as excited about meeting a “heterosexual” as you are to meet an actual gay person.  We are not!  Most of us were raised by heterosexuals and are /or have been in psychotherapy as a result of this.  Besides before artificial insemination where the hell do you think we came from?  The planet Homo?

When meeting your very first homosexual try to contain your excitement, speak softly and in a low voice and if at all possible try and make as little direct eye contact as possible.  Physical contact and sudden movements should also be avoided and as soon as the homosexual looks bored it is your signal to leave.  When departing it is again important that you slowly and discreetly back away facing the homosexual and also make sure that all reflective surfaces and shiny jewelry on your person is concealed.

One thing guaranteed to annoy the homosexual is when a heterosexual, upon meeting the homosexual, immediately start talking about their boyfriend/girlfriend or husband/wife as to make it clear that they are straight.  If you feel so strongly about your heterosexuality and that the world should know that you are straight why don’t you just carry a sign around your neck?

In such situations don’t be shocked if the homosexual start making a high pitched yodeling sound.  This is the homosexual’s gaydar being activated to verify your heterosexuality.  Homosexuals are trying to phase out brokeback marriages and any straight person so adamant about flaunting their sexual orientation will draw suspicion and warrant closer inspection.  This could see your name ending up on our recruitment list.  Good for us, not so good for you.

The average heterosexual when meeting a gay person for the first time understandably may have many questions.  But before you ask any question first ask yourself this “Would it not be better to rather Google it?”  After all you would not want to embarrass yourself by asking stupid questions like “How did you get gay?  So who’s the man and who’s the woman?  When did you choose to be gay?”

You will immediately know when you have asked a stupid question because the homosexual will roll his eyes, lift up his hand, swing in with a head bob and berate you for half an hour.  It will feel a bit like you are being psychologically mauled by a wild animal and being told off by an intelligent crack whore.  Either way, it won’t be fun, you will be guaranteed not to make the same mistake twice and in some instance you may also require a tetanus shot or two.

Another common assumption the average heterosexual make is that all homosexuals are dying to talk about being gay.  It’s not like all queers have received formal Public Relations training from Queer HQ and it is their jobs to promote our fabulous lifestyle.  That’s why we have television, the internet and propaganda.

But also don’t assume or expect the homosexual not to talk about being gay.  You may have just run into one of the queers that have received PR training from Queer HQ.  In such an instance your attempts to change the topic of conversation will be interpreted as a sign of hostility and as a result you will be placed onto our Watch List.  And believe you me, you do NOT want to be on our Watch List!

The last tip for the average heterosexual when meeting a homosexual for the first time is to not trivialize our experience by assuming it is just about sex.  We are gay 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year and we take our homosexuality very seriously.  If you trivialize our experience we will make you feel like you are hung like a Tic Tac and will in all probability end up calling you a Breeder or worse.  If the homosexual in that situation also has not had sex in while you could possibly be on the receiving end of physical violence or at the very least – a bitch slap!

If you are straight and read this whole article up to here, you have taken your first step to becoming a better heterosexual.  You should immediately go stand in front of the mirror and say that you are proud of yourself.  Then go out in public and hug the first homosexual you see and give some cash to PFLAG.

It’s not difficult getting along with us queers as long as you stick to these handy hints and guidelines.  If more straight folks do, the world would be a gayer place and who knows, maybe one day when we succeed in our devious plan for world domination we may even re-consider our position on heterosexuals and slavery.  Remember the homosexual may forgive but the homosexual never forgets so it is best not to piss us off.

Till next time.

How to deal with Telemarketers

There’s nobody in the world that I hate more than telemarketers (apart from homophobes that is).  Telemarketers are a special breed of persistent fuckers who invade your privacy always trying to sell you shit you don’t really need OR want.  Having had to deal with a telemarketer just yesterday who tried to sell me a second cell phone contract, I can honestly say that at that exact moment I would not have minded if they all caught a hideous disease and died.  But, not being a bad person I believe that not anyone, not even telemarketers (with the exclusion of Robert Mugabe who is a dick), should suffer a protracted painful death from pestilence.  So, instead I thought of sharing with you a few creative ways on how to quickly and easily get rid of that irksome telemarketer.

People always look at you funny if you have two cell phones.  I should know as I carried two cell phones for well over five years.  People automatically assume that you are either busy with some dodgy business dealings or cheating on your husband.  In my case it was neither.  So when a telemarketer tried to sell me a second cell phone contract yesterday I decided to have some fun with it.  “Is the phone I am going to get traceable?” I asked.  “What do you mean with traceable sir?” the telemarketer wanted to know.

“I mean can the coppers find out where I am through my phone?  Can my calls be intercepted and traced?” I answered in an inquisitive but restless voice.  “Uhm… uhm…” the telemarketer pondered.  “You see I frequently make calls from my various methlabs and I also pimp whores with my phones, and when I need to ship my heroin from Afghanistan and Pakistan I need to call Al Qaeda to confirm payments. I CANNOT afford to have a phone or contract that can ruin my businesses!  Do you understand?” I zealously explained.  An uncomfortable silence followed and the telemarketer hung up without saying a word.

We are far too nice to telemarketers in my opinion.  I don’t know why we just don’t hang up straight away after a telemarketer identifies himself.  Why do we always think that we owe it to a complete stranger on the other end to hear them out or be polite to a person that clearly is invading our privacy?  Why do we need to explain ourselves or explain to a complete stranger why we don’t want to buy the shit they’re selling?  We do this because unlike telemarketers we are not robotic leaches who are thick skinned and work off a set script designed to break people down and mind fuck them into submission.  But don’t fret, I am here to help.

I have thought about some anti-telemarketer techniques long and hard over the last few years and thought it’s time to share some of my tried and tested methods with you here today.  One of my favorites is the “I place your ass on hold forever” trick.  Look they phoned you, not the other way around.  The next time a telemarketer phones you politely ask them to hold the line, place them on hold without hanging up and go about your business.  If you get bored, pick up the phone again and say “Sorry about that.  Oh darnit, please hold again” and repeat until they hang up.

Another technique I love using is the “I am super paranoid and probably a serial killer” trick.  This usually throws the telemarketer off their game.  It is really simple and consists out of asking the telemarketer a series of question.  You simply need to ask the telemarketer where he got your number, how he knows your name, whether he told anyone he was phoning you, if he’s going to tell anyone that he spoke to you, what he looks like, how he’s build, how much he weighs, where his office is, what car he drives, where he lives, whether he lives alone and if he has any pets like big dogs.  Also don’t forget to ask him if he has any fava beans and a nice chianti at his house or if you should bring your own.  It is guaranteed to freak them out every time!

If you are in the mood for a little telemarketing yourself you can always use the “Want to buy my shit?” technique.  It is straightforward.  Counter sell to him and give the telemarketer a bit of his own medicine.  Use the opportunity to promote your company’s products (if you have any), try and get rid of that old treadmill you never use, your neighbors’ dogs, your old S&M swing, your kidney or even try and sell your sperm to him and let him explain why he doesn’t need or want it and then convince him that he’s wrong.  It really is fun and you should try it at least once.

Then there is the “Free psychotherapy” technique.  We all sometimes need to talk to someone about our crap day at work, the last fight you had with your husband or sibling, so why not share it with a complete stranger.  “I am so glad you called.  I have been waiting all day for someone to ask me how I am doing” and then let it rip, off load all your problems and don’t be shy.  I promise you he really wants to know about your premature ejaculation, erectile dysfunction, incontinence and bowel movement as much as you want to know about whatever he is trying to sell you.

When you are alone, bored and feeling a little frisky you can always try the “Let’s talk dirty” technique.  Telemarketers never know how to handle this and like some men in the sack this will not last longer than approximately three minutes.  You can start off by telling the person on the other end that he has a really sexy voice and then proceed to ask him what he’s wearing.  Heavy breathing is optional and remember even if he doesn’t ask you what you are wearing tell him anyway because deep down you know he really does want to know.

The last but most definitely NOT the least is Cut the Call.  You will know it is a telemarketer that called you within the first couple of seconds.  Hang up immediately.  You don’t owe the fuckers anything and remember what he is doing is probably illegal anyway (at least in South Africa it is).  If you wanted to buy whatever the fuck he’s selling, you would have contacted him!  If he calls back hang up again until he gets the picture.

Sure some of the techniques I explained here may lead to the police contacting you, but what the hell, it is fun and you only live once right?  It is not like you are breaking the law or anything.  But if you really do have a methlab, smuggling Al Qaeda’s heroin, illegally operating a brothel or are a serial killer, do me one big favor – please make sure you delete you browser history after reading this because I do not want any trouble.  I really don’t. OK?

Till next time.

The Help

It is really hard to find good help these days.  During the last 26 months hubby and I had a total of 5 housekeepers all of whom we had to fire for various reasons.  That amounts to about one housekeeper every 5.2 months.  It’s exhausting and not allot of fun, especially not for me seeing as I had to do most of the firing.  Having just sacked our latest housekeeper yesterday and with the new one starting tomorrow I could not help but wonder, is it really that difficult to find good help now days or are we just impossible bitches to work for?

 

Looking back at some of the housekeepers we had over the last two years I can’t believe that we put up with half the shit we had to deal with.  One housekeeper that we had the longest drove me especially crazy.  She was an older lady that seemed to be a good worker, but as the weeks went by her nosy, meddling and manipulative nature emerged.  It even reached a point where we ended up hiding things from her.

You see, the sleuth was obsessed with how much stuff cost and she had a keen eye for spotting anything in the house that was new.  If she spotted something, no matter how inconspicuous, she would rummage through the trash looking for the item’s receipt.  Then she would make a point of letting you know she had spotted the new item and would comment on how expensive it was and how she wished she could have nice things to.  It drove me fucking mad!

It reached the point where we actively started feeling guilty whenever we bought anything.  In an effort to avoid this we started hiding and/or shredding receipts in our own home.  Did this stop her?  No!  Whenever she could not find a receipt she would simply ask us how much we spent on whatever we bought and telling her it was none of her business didn’t stop her either.  And then there was her destructive side.

She would break stuff and then hide it.  The first couple of times we concluded that it was an accident, but when the instances became more frequent it became a problem.  The final straw was when she broke an artifact that I paid a boatload of money for in Egypt and an antique perfume bottle that hubby inherited from his grandmother which she inherited from her grandmother.  Both items were irreplaceable and almost priceless.  So we fired her.  Later we learned that she had a drinking problem and the reason she broke so much stuff was because she was plastered at work.

Then there was the bitch.  After the nosy boozer was fired we hired a new lady and right from the start my gut told me she was bad news.  It wasn’t until week 2 that my gut feeling was confirmed.  The bitch would do small things that showed her passive aggression.  For instance, instead of putting our chef knives back in their knife block she would dump them all in a drawer; knives, forks and spoons would be thrown in drawers haphazardly, not taking any time to even try and look like she made any effort of separating them and placing them in their proper places.  What was even worse was her bad attitude.

The bitch would arrive at work always looking miserable and she would never greet us properly unless she wanted something.  On more than one occasion when we did not give her what she wanted she would say something sarcastic and rolled her eyes at us.  Having had to deal with her was like visiting the dentist for a root canal.

At one point hubby and I even started fighting because neither one of us wanted to talk to her as she had a special talent for ruining your day.  This went on for 4 months until the one day when I had enough and she rolled her eyes at me for the last time.  I fired her impertinent ass and it felt good.  There is only room for one bitch in my house and that bitch is me!

The latest housekeeper that I fired replaced the bitch.  The first day she arrived for work hubby took her through the house and took time explaining what was expected of her.  His exact words were “I expect the house to be clean.” To which she responded “Yes, the house is clean.”  At that stage we didn’t have a maid for almost two weeks and the house was NOT clean.  We should have known right there and then it wasn’t going to end well.

Our house has not been clean for just over 3 months.  The sloth seemed incapable of doing anything properly.  Hubby would talk to her, leave her notes and even got down on his hands and knees multiple times and showed her how to clean certain things.  We would ask her to do something and then she would do it once and never again after that.

Hubby even considered leaving post it notes all over the house with instructions for her with one note on the dining room table that would read “There are 123 post it notes in the house.  Find them!”.  It felt like she needed constant reminders to do her work and at one stage I thought she might be a brainless zombie.  The cats hated her as well.  We never did the post it notes though, it seemed like it would have been a waste of paper.

After giving the sloth warnings and putting her back on probation hubby wanted to fire her, but I felt sorry for her and wanted to give her one last chance.  So on Tuesday morning I had a talk with her.  I explained to her that we were not happy, the house wasn’t cleaned properly and that I know that she leaves work at 12pm, and occasionally at 1pm, and that we were not paying her to work half day.

I showed her the sand that accumulated under the carpets, the dust, cat hair and crumbs under the cushions of the sofa, the thick dust on the portraits.  I spent a good hour talking to her and showing her evidence of her mediocre work.  She was told that this was her absolute last chance and that the next time I needed to speak to her she would be fired.

The sloth seemed to understand the gravity of her predicament and as I left for work I was confident that things would improve.  She did ask me whether I was going to do inspections and I said I would.  After work I arrived home and was delighted to find her still there.  I took it as a good sign so I didn’t do my inspection straight away.  After she left I decided to check and was horrified.  She vacuumed under only 2 of the 6 sofa cushions, there was still sand under the carpets and only one of the portraits was dusted (the one that I used as an example).  I called her back and she was fired.  I don’t know how Donald Trump does it every week.

We are now on housekeeper 6 and I hope the 6^th time is the charm.  I don’t think we are nasty bitches or bad to work for.  We don’t ask for much, all we ask for is to have our house cleaned properly twice a week.  We don’t expect miracles or to be able to see God’s reflection in the floor tiles or to blind astronauts in space with our cutlery.  It would be nice, but we have realistic expectations and let’s hope maid number 6 lives up to them.  I do not want to fire another one.

Till next time.

Russia: Don’t Go There.

Lawmakers in Russia just passed a draconian censorship law that would impose stiff fines for anything construed as "the promotion of homosexuality" in Saint Petersburg, Russia's second largest city. Reading, writing, speaking or reporting on anything related to gay, lesbian bi or trans (LGBT) people would become a criminal act. This ban on "promotion" would also target Pride parades, literature, theater, or NGOs that openly serve LGBT people.  All Out, a community of almost a million people around the world fighting for full equality, made a little video to send the Governor a message. Pass this law - We Won't Go There.

Chinese Weight loss Pills

I swear my body works on a five year cycle.  Either that or I am more like Oprah than what I want to believe.  Since I reached the tender age of thirty my metabolism decided to shut the hell down and all that “I wish I could gain some weight” of my early twenties came back to bite me in my fat ass ten years later.  Yes people, it is time to renew my driver’s license again, and yes I am going to be stuck with a pudgy photo of myself on my license until 2017.  It’s a bloody nightmare but I have a plan.  There’s nothing that I can do about the driver’s license right now but there is something I can do about the weight – it is called KAMEI and it comes from China.

 First let me qualify what I mean when I say I am fat.  In gay terms I am fat.  I’m about 8 to 10 kilograms (17.6 lbs to 22lbs) over what is acceptable, in gay terms, for my height and technically speaking, in gay terms, I am very close to being classified obese.  Yes people – OBESE!  No one likes a flabby fag and no matter what I want to believe myself - I don’t either.  So I did what any self-respecting curvy homosexual would do, I decided to get some diet pills.  Not the “you are wired the whole day and at night you can’t sleep” ephedrine kind; No I decided to go for the “I don’t exactly know what’s in them and I could possibly die” Chinese kind.

Desperate times call for desperate measures and for the homosexual on-the-go who don’t have time to run like an obtuse rodent on a treadmill, pills seemed like the perfect solution.  A colleague at work was selling these sliming tablets and by all accounts they seem to work.  Naturally, I could not resist and I got myself a month’s supply at a very reasonable price.  Buying these pills and taking them is very similar to joining Brad Pitt’s Fight Club.  Only this is Diet Club, and the first rule of Diet Club is do not talk about Diet Club.

 What doesn’t kill you will make you thinner.  This is what I told myself when I drank my first pill.  There was no piece of paper inside the box listing the active ingredients, its workings or possible side effects.  Furthermore, the pills were also not FDA approved and the packaging simply stated it was FDA supervised.  I didn’t know what the fuck that meant and frankly I didn’t and still don’t care.  If these pills can make me loose 10kgs in 3 months I am prepared to stick feathers up my ass and call myself a chicken.  I was going to try it and tell my husband nothing (you know the first rule of Diet Club and all).  But alas, I just cannot keep secrets from my hubby.

Come Friday night, hubby and I decided to go out for an early supper at an Italian restaurant just around the corner from where we live.  After some good food and a bottle of chardonnay I came clean.  “So I am taking these Chinese slimming tablets that I bought at work.  It makes you lose weight without any dieting and/or exercise” I said trying not to sound ashamed at my lack of weight loss effort.  “Really?  Is it legal?  It didn’t fall off a truck or come from the black-market, did it?  You do work with some pretty strange people and it would not surprise me if it did.”  Hubby said with that disapproving look he has perfected.  After arriving home hubby asked to see the packing and while reading it he broke down laughing.

 My mother taught me to always read the packing of anything before I put it in my mouth because it is important to know exactly what you are putting in your body and how much calories it contains.  But, for some strange reason I did not bother to do it this time.  Hubby proceeded to read the packaging to me out loud.  The ingredients are listed on two separate places, at the one place it ends with the word “and others” and at the other it ends with “ETC”.  It seems they listed what they considered to be the most important ingredients but oh don’t you worry about the others they are not important and do not really matter.

Then there were the human body experiment and the goods “do not diarrhea and vomiting or anorexia” and is suitable for the obese crowd and will lessen your circumference.  Perfect, I do want my circumference lessened and I do not like having diarrhea, vomiting and I have no intention of starving myself either.  So it’s perfect.  Hubby said it’s ok for me to take the pills to see if they work.  After all, my will and testament is up to date as is all my life insurance.  It’s not like there’s anything harmful in my Chinese weight loss pills, right?  However, I do lie awake some nights wondering what the “and others” and “ETC” are though.

 Today is day five and I am still alive.  We don’t own a scale, because scales are evil.  The only good practical purpose scales serve is for weighing your luggage to ensure it meets the airline’s weight allowance and that we do at my in-laws.  So in the absence of a scale I don’t know if I have lost any weight yet.  I’ll guess when I put on that one pair of black pants which have become a little too tight around the hip area I will see if the KAMEI is working.  In the mean time, I will think about possibly joining the gym again and cutting out some of those delicious carbs and sugar from my diet.  So goodbye cupcakes...  Farewell chocolate bars...  Au revoir crisps...  We won’t be apart long.

Till next time.

How to tell if your cat is plotting to kill you.

As all cat owners will tell, cats are weird!  You never really quite know where you stand with them and they are also not all that forthcoming with affection.  Sure they rely on us for food, or so we want as to believe.  Surely they must love us and will never do anything (on purpose that is) to harm us, or will they?  Maybe all the affection (or lack thereof) is just a ruse to conceal their true intentions – the fact that they are secretly plotting to kill us.  Here are the tell tail signs that your cat maybe plotting to kill you.  Read carefully, be warned and be prepared…

1) Kneading on you:

You may think this is a sign of affection, but your cat is actually checking your internal organs for weakness.

2) Excessive shoveling of kitty litter:

After using the litter box, your cat needlessly kicks litter around, most of it ending up all over the room.  This is practice for burying your body.

3) Staring contests:

If you get caught in a staring contest with your cat, do NOT look away.  Looking away will signal to your cat that you are weak and an attack is likely to follow.

4) Bringing you dead animals:

This isn’t a gift.  It is a warning.

5) Throwing up grass:

Through this painful feeding and purging process, cats prepare their minds and bodies for combat.

6) Hiding in dark places and watching you:

Your cat will often hide in order to study you in your natural habitat, learn your routine and exploit your weaknesses.

7) Sleeping on your electronics:

Humans have superior technology.  Your cat knows this.  Your cat will do its best to disrupt all communications to the outside world.

8) Pawing at your face while you sleep:

Cats aren’t very good at smothering people as is widely believed.  But this won’t stop them from trying.

9) Licking the tiles after you get out of the shower:

Cats do not do this because they are thirsty; they are actually systematically removing your DNA from the house.

10) Sprinting at light speed out of any room you enter:

When your cat does this, it is actually a failed ambush.  Your cat will try again.

This post has been verified by Killer Pussy and is certified to be true and correct.  You can LIKE her Fan Page HERE or follow her on Twitter.

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Till next time.

Conversion Therapy & the Homosexual Agenda

It is with grave concern that we at Queer HQ learned that a certain Church, of which we do not speak, recently decided to expand their disgraceful conversion therapy program.  Their program dubbed H20 (Homosexuality 2 Overcome) that was started in 2005 is now also going to be taught to the general public.  Now people with no mental health experience or training will be unleashed amongst the gay community attempting to indiscriminately convert queer folk. But we at Queer HQ have taken notice and we are prepared with our very own counterargument about heterosexuality and our own devious plan.

 

We all know heterosexuality is a lifestyle choice and enforcing heterosexuality on any person is nothing less than a gross human rights abuse and should be treated with the contempt and disgust it deserves.  After all, if it wasn’t for heterosexuality the world would not have been over populated; there would not have been divorce, child neglect and polygamy to mention but just a few.  All of these are lifestyle choices: nobody forces you to have children, get married to one or more person, not care for your child or file for divorce.  It’s all choices people make themselves.  But apart from heterosexuality clearly being a choice, more concerning is how practicing it impacts on the environment.

Heterosexuality is bad for the environment.  The typical heterosexual’s carbon food print is 4 times that of the average homosexual.  Why you ask?  The answer is simple.  Due to the average heterosexual being too overburdened by his/her everyday life encumbers (which he/she choose), they generally will also choose practicality over what is good for the environment thereby systematically destroying it.  In other words heterosexuals are just plain lazy and because of that Mother Nature suffers.

 

Very few heterosexuals will take the time to sort out their trash for recycling, do a thorough study about a cars carbon emissions before buying it, find out more about a certain brand’s labor practices and history before purchasing it, or sacrifice a whole Saturday to walk around in the sun with a wig in 6 inch heals to make a statement and to ensure that their community’s voices are heard.  If this is not bad enough, it only gets worse from here.

Heterosexuality causes mental distress.  It has been well documented that heterosexuality is the leading cause of depression, stress, sexual dysfunctions, unemployment, economic recessions and war.  Just look around you if you don’t believe me.  How many of these things are as a direct result of homosexuals?  Have we made the political decisions that led to war, economic collapse and the residual consequences thereof?  No.  It was heterosexuals.  Therefore, in the interest of our planet and our continued survival we have to root out heterosexuality.  It is what’s best for the planet.

Sure confused unconverted heterosexuals out number us (for the moment) and we need this to change.  If we allow this scourge to continue, in a hundred years from now, the heterosexual will have all but completely destroyed the earth.  Action must be taken and action must be swift!

The first order of business is to infiltrate these so called conversion therapy groups and learn as much as possible about them.  Sure certain queer folks’ balls or labia may be met with electrocution, but that’s why we must be selective and deploy only the brave.  Secondly, we will announce in all forms of media each and every little dirty detail about these therapies and make sure the whole world knows who and what and exactly how crazy these homophobes are.

As soon as we have exposed these types of therapies as ludicrous and ineffective as they truly are, we can begin with our own conversion.  Once the world population has been prepared by our longstanding campaign of subliminal propaganda through print-, film-, electronic-, social media and this Blog, the stage will be set for mass conversions.  But don’t fret, we have learned a thing or two from history and it will be nothing like the holocaust.

Heterosexuals will be given a choice (seeing as they like choices).  Turn gay or pay!  You see we don’t actually want to physically harm any heterosexual (we need them to work as slaves and harvest their sperm and eggs later), but we do want to save our planet.  If you don’t voluntarily want to turn gay you will be taxed to death.  Heterosexuality will become so expensive, rules so stringent that not even the most chronic OCD sufferer would be able to cope and live within the rules, regulations, procedures and laws we envisage implementing.

Here are just a few things we are currently looking at.  There will be no more natural procreation, technology will take over and pregnancy and children will be seen as the privilege they are meant to be.  Divorce will be banned and all marriage will end with death of one or both of the spouses.  All forms of showing physical affection by heterosexuals will be frowned upon and banned in public spaces, and like smokers they will have small poorly ventilated sections in restaurants out of sight of the other patrons.  Employers and immigration authorities will refuse to recognize heterosexual marriages and opposite sex partners will not be afforded certain benefits or legal statuses.  Practicing heterosexuals will not be allowed to vote.

 Sure some of these things seem harsh, but we are doing this to save our planet and ensure our future.  Heterosexuality is destroying life as we know it and if we do not stop them, all can be lost forever.  If some of this rhetoric sounds familiar, you may be surprised to learn that most of this I have taken from actual arguments made against homosexuality in just the last few months.  Countries the likes of Libya, Egypt, Uganda, United States and the United Emirates have all had some asshole homophobe argue some of these points in public forums.

Homosexuality is a choice, homosexuality is the leading cause of mental illness, homosexuality is the leading cause of divorce amongst heterosexuals, homosexuals are the cause of the economic recession and homosexuality is bad for the environment.  We all know this is ridiculous but for some queer reason there are people out there who believe this twaddle.  The same people who believe that conversion therapy really works and is a viable option.  It is time they wake up and be told the truth.  It doesn’t work!  It is stupid!

So Dutch Reformed Church of Moreleta, take your H2O therapy and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.  It will be right at home with all the other shit and convoluted bullshit in your close mined fanatical religious asses!  It is my recommendation that you either keep it safely clenched up in your rectum or flush it down the toilet and not distribute your crap amongst the public, because truth be told – your shit smells.

Till next time.

Crack is wack!

When I got the news that Whitney Houston was found dead in her hotel room at the age of 48, I couldn’t say that I was surprised.  We all knew it was just a matter of time.  Whitney had been publically struggling with addiction for the last two decades and watching her life unfold was a little bit like watching a train derail at high speed, but in slow motion: You just knew it was going to end badly.

The news of Whitney Houston’s death reached me via Twitter early on Sunday morning.  She was found dead in the bathtub in her hotel room in Beverly Hills.  Early unconfirmed reports said that she had drowned possibly due to passing out in the bath as a result of a combination of drugs and/or alcohol that she had taken.  Sad as it was, I could not help but recall her infamous 2002 interview with Diane Sawyer, and her words “crack is wack” was stuck in my head.

During the 2002 interview with Diane Sawyer, Whitney uttered "crack is wack" as she admitted to abusing cocaine, marijuana and pills.  She went further and said “Crack is cheap. I make too much money to ever smoke crack. Let's get that straight. Okay? We don't do crack. We don't do that. Crack is wack."  Then seven years later, Whitney Houston tells Oprah Winfrey she was clean and sober and we all wanted to believe her.  Now, just over two years later, we know her sobriety did not last and in the end her addiction killed her.

Many of us have been or will be affected by addiction, in one way or another, either directly or indirectly during the course of our lives.  Addiction does not discriminate; it doesn’t care whether you are rich or poor, famous, beautiful, black or white.  Addiction will strip you of your dignity, your talents, your loved ones and when there’s nothing left –it will kill you.

During my thirty something years on this planet I have encountered my fair share of addicts in both my professional and personal life.  I have watched them give up all that’s near and dear to them for a bottle of whiskey, a few grams of coke, a joint and/or a handful of prescription drugs.  It is sad, it is shocking and at some point you just have to realize that people make their own choices in their lives and if those choices are to destroy them in the end, it is still their choice to make.

Addiction is a cruel mistress.  Some people can experiment with drugs and never become addicted.  Most people I know have experimented with one drug or another at college, have drunk too much or taken ecstasy when raves were still cool.  Most people I know have done this and have not become addicted.  But then there are the others who started off with smoking marijuana and ended up heroin addicts, started off with taking ecstasy and ended up addicted to crystal meth.  It’s difficult to tell who will become addicted, but once they are it is very difficult to get them clean.

One such person is my father.  I have not spoken to or had any contact with him for well over four years.  He is an alcoholic and has been one for the last twenty odd years.  I have very few memories of him ever being a dad to me as alcohol didn’t afford him or I this luxury and quite a few pleasant childhood memories are overshadowed by alcohol related incidents involving fighting, beaten down doors, broken bottles and crashed cars.  During the last 16 years he has been to rehab three times and all three times it was unsuccessful and he has never stopped drinking.  He is an alcoholic who has chosen his addiction over his family multiple times.  He doesn’t believe he has a problem and he doesn’t really want help and one day his addiction will kill him too.

Addicts lie, they lie to other people and they lie to themselves.  After a while they also start believing their lies.  They justify their actions and, more importantly, their addiction by external events always finding an excuse, an explanation or a person to blame for their own substance abuse.  Their addiction becomes their master and everything and anything that stands between them and their next fix, whether it is a loved one or not, becomes disposable.  They become selfish, cruel and unrepentant.

Addicts must be living in their own hell, but it's those around them that suffer the most.  Those who love them, care for them and have to stand witness to a prolonged painful process of self-destruction.  Those who have to witness the person they once knew wither away, change into a total stranger who is slowly killing themselves.  Watch helplessly as they refuse treatment, turn their backs on them and always going back to their addiction until one day it is too late.

Having lived with and been raised by an addict, you could say that I am somewhat biased.  I have seen how it destroys a family, relationships and love.  I have seen how cruel it can be and it has made me a hard person because of it.  I have little sympathy for the addict who doesn’t want to admit they have a problem and when offered help refuses it.

Whitney Houston is dead and it didn’t come as a surprise.  A promising career has been systematically and very publically destroyed by addiction in just over twenty years.  She’s not the first celebrity who has died due to addiction and she will not be the last.  Let her death and those of all the others serve as a stark warning of the dangers of drug addiction.  With her death, let it finally sink in that all of us are equally vulnerably and that in the end addiction kills.  May your soul rest in peace Whitney Houston and I believe I speak for many when I say I wish it ended differently.

Till next time.

A Valentine's For Homophobes

A valentine’s message to all the homophobes out there who are against Gay Marriage brought to you by the FCK8 campaign.  Help http://FCKH8.com #OccupyValentines for Gay Marriage: http://clicktotweet.com/u9d11

MDNA: Madonna, Give me all your luvin'

The Bitch is Back!  Madonna is releasing her new album MNDA (yes it’s the name for ecstasy but I am sure if you ask her it will mean something different) within the next two month or so, but she did release her first single of the album today.  Check out Give me all your luvin'!

Too Gay for Ugliness!

It is well known and documented that I am generally unpleasant and bitchy when I am not surrounded by beautiful things, running water, air-conditioning and flattering lighting.  Case and point would be that court case (of which we do not speak) that I had to attend in the Johannesburg CBD.  Every day of the week (for months) I dragged my ass there and had to walk across a road that the fire department had to hose down every morning because homeless people would piss and shit on it during the night.  Every day I sat in a courtroom with little to no air-conditioning or flattering lighting, had to buy food for lunch (and sometimes dinner) from places you just knew was infected with all variations of hepatitis, and the only water I could surround myself with was carbonated and bottled.  I wasn’t happy then, and I am not happy now.

Road rage is something I suffer from and my most recent episode caused me to have an epiphany.  You see I was driving back home from work when an old lady cut me off.  She didn’t use her indicator lights before she cut in front of me (which fucking drives me insane) and she was driving way under the speed limit.  When I honked my horn at her she proceeded to stick her wrinkled and liver spot covered hand out of the window and flipped me an arthritis encrusted bird – twice!  She had done exactly the same thing to me three months earlier, as I recognized her deathmobile (a 1974 Toyota) and her geriatric middle finger.  So I did what any normal person would do - I contemplated killing her!

For a brief moment I considered where exactly I would have to bump her car in order for her to veer violently into oncoming traffic.  I knew it would have to look like an accident or else my insurance would not pay and I am far too pretty for prison and didn’t want to be charged and convicted of vehicular manslaughter.  As I was considering my evil plot of revenge and murder by car, I looked around me.  I was surrounded by hawkers, beggars, dirt, broken paving, weeds, trash and dust.  I was in the middle of Uglyville.  Then I realized, maybe the old lady wasn’t the real cause of my anger, it actualy was the hideous road.

For just under three years I have been driving the same stretch of road to work.  It is ugly, straight and there is nothing inspiring or aesthetically pleasing about it.  Sure some days there are people collecting money at the traffic lights for whatever cause or charity they represent while dressed in costumes.  Some days it is delightful and other days it is not.  Just this morning I drove past a bunch of students collecting money for their college.  The one guy was either dressed as a zucchini or a squid; I couldn’t tell which it was because the costume was that badly made.  I sometimes give them money, if they are cute, and on such a day the road seems less dreadful.

Then there are those days when straight guys insist on publically embarrassing their soon to be married mates and I do like watching heterosexuals making fools of themselves in public.  Last week I drove past one such spectacle.  The guy was dressed in nothing but a diaper and a cowboy hat begging for cash at a traffic light.  He was build like a Greek God.  I did slow down and gave him a donation because I wanted to see his biceps up close and express my sympathy and regret over his lifestyle choice.  He would have received a bigger donation had it not been for the diaper and the fact that he wasn’t gay, but I digress…

Any self respecting homosexual will tell you there is nothing more unsightly than an unkempt bush and on my stretch of road there are plenty.  My city seems to have an aversion to pulling out weeds, trimming bushes and general beautification.  So my road remains ugly and it ruins my day daily!  Would it destroy the national budget to plant a few trees, a flower or two or God forbid just clean up a bit?  Would it kill my city council to even consider lifting up their fat asses from their comfy chairs, for which I as a tax payer pay for, and put forth an effort to make my city attractive?  I ask these questions daily while breathing in dust and dodging hawkers, taxis and old women drivers.

Sure, I know the economy is in the shitter and the price of crude oil is having her period, but this is all the more reason to make an effort to gayify our environment.  I don’t deserve to be depressed by my commute to work and back, and neither does my fellow road users.  The only reason I get road rage is because I drive to work surrounded by hideousness.  It is my God given gay right to have my stretch of road beautified!  So this is what I am going to do.

First thing tomorrow morning I am calling up my Mayor’s office and demanding they fix this madness.  I don’t care if they have bigger problems at hand like municipal strikes, pot holes, prostitution and drug dealers.  Even whores and drug dealers deserve a pretty work environment and most people in my city drive 4X4 vehicles and recycle anyway.  If they get pissed off at my demands my response will be simple.  I will merely ask them “How was your drive to work this morning?” and I will ask them this every day until they get a restraining order.

How long it will take for my hideous piece of road to get its facelift, I do not know.  But I will be driving to work from now on with seeds in my car; seeds for flowers that I will be throwing out of my car’s window ever couple of feet.  It’s not littering if it’s natural and the world could do with more daisies, poppies and sunflowers!  Hopefully my small concerted effort will shoot sprouts, the flowers will grow and bloom into something spectacular.  One day my commute to work and back will bring a little smile to my face and perhaps to others too.

Till next time.