I'm not denying that I'm difficult to live with.

This has been said by me innumerable times but for the sake of making sure nobody ever forgets it, I will say it again – my husband really deserves a medal for putting up with me.  I am no picnic to live with and should I have been accompanied with an instruction manual it would have come in volumes and would have read like an IKEA manual but without the illustration and it would have been printed in Chinese.  There are many ways one could sugarcoat this.  For example, I could say that I am complicated, emotionally complex and eccentric bordering on the ridiculous.  But that would just be blowing smoke up your asses.  The truth is I am one difficult bitch to live with and sometimes I do things that annoy the living hell out of my long suffering husband.  To help give you some perspective here are just a couple of my phobias, obsessions and eccentricities that drive him up the wall and why he deserves some well earned recognition.

One of the causes for my husband to be annoyed can be blamed on my OCD.  Not having to switch the lights on and off a 100 times or checking if all the doors are locked for hours at a time kind of OCD.  The type of OCD I suffer from is my germ phobia and the fact that I like routine and for things to be done in a certain way.  In this sense I am not that unlike our bunnies.  They too like routine and for things to be done a certain way and if you deviate from it they throw tantrums and are stubborn just like me.

This has caused me to hate spontaneity, to be weary of surprises and made me allergic to change of any kind.  I like things to be planned and organized or else the world will come crumbling down and we will all die.  Throw in a mild case of agoraphobia and you have the perfect storm that could kill a social life.  All of which drives my husband nuts.

You see for anyone to drag my ass out of the house for any reason other than for work or to buy life sustaining necessities is a daunting task.  I like our home and everything we need is there.  There really is no reason to leave the house other than for a natural disaster or possibly the apocalypse; even then I would be difficult about it because that too would imply impending change.  Besides, we only have one pet carrier and there is no bloody way five cats, two bunnies, a tortoise and a fish would all fit in there.  We would need a fucking Ark.  Also, do you even know how many life threatening germs are out there that could one day turn us all into Zombies?

So for us to go out is a rather big deal, but for some odd reason my husband does succeed in getting me out of the house sometimes.  We do go shopping in actual malls that are not on the internet, go to movies, visit friends, watch shows and also travel.  None of these things have killed me, yet.  But what annoys my husband is the fact that all these adventures are planned, even the “spontaneous” ones.

My OCD is not the only thing that drives hubby nuts, there also is my cooking.  I am a phenomenal cook, if I do say so myself, and I am also very talented at dirtying every single pot, pan and cooking utensil we have while I prepare a meal.  I never use the same tasting spoon twice because that’s just unhygienic.  I am also incapable of only cooking for just two people.  I blame the fact that I possibly lived through the great depression in a previous life and am now overcompensating by always cooking for an army.  So after I cooked a meal and dirtied as much as possible, I will also fill up all our Tupperware with leftovers most of which go to waste anyway. I know there are starving children in Africa. Don't judging me.

As if my OCD and cooking skills are not enough I am also a hypochondriac at the best of times.  I am a relatively healthy person apart from being allergic to the world.  Literally.  I should live in a hypoallergenic bubble.  However, when I do get an ailment I tend to self-diagnose with disastrous consequences and for this I blame WebMD and the internet in general.

I have been convinced that I was dying from exotic diseases more times than I think my husband would care to count.  In contrast there were also times I thought I was fine but was in fact dying. Like a while back when I thought I was suffering from severe constipation on an island holiday and it turned out I had double pneumonia.  There was also that time when I thought I was having a heart attack and it turned out to just be severe heartburn.  I tend to get it wrong most of the time and all the while hubby had to stand by my side through real medical emergencies and the ones that were not so real.  Even that one time I thought I was infected with the Ebola virus and nobody wanted to believe me.  It would frustrate most people.

And then there are the animals, as you all know I love animals and as a result not only does my husband have to share our house with a person with OCD, impeccable cooking skills and a hypochondriac, he also shares it with our ever growing menagerie.  You all should know by now about my obsessive search for a gay donkey and most recently I fell in love with another animal called an Alpacas.  They are ridiculous animals with one fabulous set of hair.  I mean really, who could resist an animal with buck teeth and a jerry curl?  The Alpacas could just possibly trump the gay donkey, and I am so getting one, just don’t tell my husband.

Hubby has threatened that if I get one more animal that we need to buy a farm.  So in response to his threat, now every time I go to the pet shop to buy supplies I send him pictures of kittens, bunnies and reptiles.  You know, so that he is never sure what he will be coming home to that afternoon.  I know it’s cruel but I am doing this with a plan in mind:  If I desensitize him enough to the possibility of a new animal joining our zoo then when I do get the Alpacas or gay donkey he will not be that upset, although the neighbors might be.  I am aware that my obsession with our ever expanding zoo is a problem, but animals make me happy and we can’t naturally have children and God knows we try.  If Brad and Angelina can collect children then who are you to judge my animal collection?  Besides we are adopting a child and I suspect this might just cure me of my zoo obsession.  The universe works in mysterious ways.

As you can see, it is a miracle that I am not single.  Finding a person who would be prepared to put up with all this shit is very difficult and I got lucky.  Very lucky! The only real issue I think my husband has that he really wishes I would part with is my obsession with horror movies.  I scare the living shit out of him by means of the horror genre at least once a week.  I do this probably in an attempt to convince him that living with me is not as bad as being possessed by Lucifer, being tormented by entities, kept chained in a basement by a serial killer or being kidnapped by aliens.  I mean compared to that sharing your house with a zoo and a somewhat eccentric blogger who believes that the Zombie Apocalypse will happen isn’t so bad, now is it?

Till next time.

(PS:  The Zombie Apocalypse is real people.  It will happen.

PPS: And when the Zombie Apocalypse does happen, stay the fuck away from my house!  I will cut a zombie bitch.  I really will.)

Madonna's Lady Gaga Nightmares

Lady Gaga's rise to fame is tormenting Marge and she wants her gays back.

What’s in a name?

Visiting the Department of Home Affairs almost has the same appeal to me as getting an enema and then a colonoscopy.  I have never had a colonoscopy but I can’t imagine that it’s pleasant or pretty.  However, this is exactly what hubby and I needed to do a couple of weeks ago.  You see, we had to change our surnames for the adoption.  So now our surname is a double barrel and we are now officially, on the government’s computer system, known as Pierre LeRoux-DuPisani.  It’s a long surname and our poor child will have a very difficult time when he/she first learns to write his/her name.  I apologize in advance.  Daddy promise to start saving up for your therapy fund so long.  But getting our surnames officially crunched into one took us almost five hours.  Five hours of my life that I will never get back.

Hubby and I decided to visit the Department of Home Affairs middle December.  Our rationale was that most people would have already gone on holiday and that Home Affairs would be quiet.  We were wrong and they were busy.  Firstly, we had to queue outside in the sweltering heat for an hour before we were eventually allowed into the building and as we turned the corner into their foyer I almost vomited.  It smelled like a sewerage pipe had burst and the stench of feces hung thick in the air.  I wanted to leave but hubby did not allow me to.  Secondly, besides the smell of human excrement, their air-conditioners were also broken and the place was packed to capacity with people.  So not only did the place smell like shit it was hot as hell too.

As we got the forms we needed to complete we learned that we also needed to have copies of our passports as well.  And as fate would have it these were the only copies we did not have.  The information officer nonchalantly told me that we could have copies made outside in a van.  Seeing as hubby’s handwriting is much better than mine (his is legible) we decided that he would complete the forms and that I would temporarily escape the smell of poo and have the copies made.  I have never had to have copies made by two Nigerians from inside a van that looked like it could double as a kidnapping and drug smuggling vehicle.  And I hope to God I never will have to ever again.  It was a rather surreal experience and they so overcharged me.  Van people are assholes.

After I got the copies I ventured back into the shitty sauna and hubby and I played musical chairs with strangers for a couple of hours.  I was appalled when I realized I forgot to bring wet wipes and hand sanitizer and was convinced that I would catch some kind of deadly disease.  So when we were eventually called to a counter by a guy with dreadlocks I was relieved as I thought our ordeal was almost over.  But it wasn’t.  We told Rastafarian dude that we wanted to change our surnames to a double barrel and we needed to also apply for new passports and identity documents with our new surname.  We presented him with copies of our identity documents, passports and marriage certificate and that was when his eyes glazed over.  I wasn’t sure if it was due to too much marijuana, confusion, the smell of shit hanging in the air or the heat.

Ganja dude then disappeared to seek out his supervisor and we were unwitting spectators to bureaucracy at its best.  After what felt like an hour he came back with an irritated looking supervisor who then barked at us “When did you get married? Why didn’t you do this then?” to which my then very annoyed hubby responded “Because we’re adopting and we are doing this now!” The bombastic supervisor gave us the stink eye mumbled something to Dope dude and left.  And with a few stokes on the keyboard our surnames were officially changed.  Don’t know why dreadlocks needed to call his supervisor for that, but at least it was done.  We are now just waiting for our new passports and identity documents and I think I will pay someone to collect it for us.

In other baby news, hubby and I also did some shopping for a stroller and car seats.  Do you even know how many different brands are out there?  For soon to be new parents this is an overwhelming experience.  I mean, you don’t want to buy a car seat that costs more than your car yet you don’t want to buy something that is not 100% save and of good quality.  I also never knew that car seats came for different stages.  There are car seats from stages 0-3.  Also, they don’t rate them by the baby’s age but with weight.  So what happens if you have a fat baby and bought the wrong car seat?  Luckily Google and my Facebook friends came to the rescue.

After much debate we eventually found the right stroller and a car seat that is perfect and suitable for stages 0 to 3.  And it didn’t cost us an arm and a leg.  So now we have bought all the big and expensive things.  The nursery is completely ready and we are also now set for travel.  It is quite a relief that we are this prepared already and that we would not have to scramble after we get “the call”.  Being slightly OCD, proactive and a lover of checklist sometimes do come in handy.

So at the moment we are as ready as we can be for the baby.  Now we wait.  What I found amusing from this experience were people on Facebook’s reactions when we changed our surnames on our accounts.  People freaked the fuck out and I don’t know why.  After several inboxes I eventually had to explain why we did it and people calmed down.  I also had to explain that both hubby and I will still continue using our original surnames professionally and the change of our surname was just a formality so that your child can share the same surname as us.  On the plus side, there are only two Pierre LeRoux-DuPisani’s on Facebook and it’s us.  Don’t we feel special…

Till next time.

Happy 2014 Y'all

I decided that my first blog post of 2014 should really be something profound, thought provoking, something worthy of an epiphany.  Then I realized that I am still slightly hungover from last night and decided fuck it.  So instead of a spiritual awakening I am giving a raunchy video from Andrew Christian called #suck.   Enjoy.

2013: The Year that Was

So today is the last day of 2013 and I slept for 10 hours straight.  The last time I did that was when I had plastic surgery and the drugs were awesome.  And just so you know, the bags under my eyes have still not grown back.  That is a plastic surgery win in my book.  But this blog post is not going to be about me being nipped, tucked, getting laser treatment or getting Botox.  I am saving that for my forties.  The nip and tuck part that is because the rest I have been doing for years.  This blog post is going to reflect on the highs and lows I have experienced during 2013.  Seeing as I live a very boring life this blog post is going to be short.  I don’t want to bore you with all the insignificant details that make out the plethora of my meager existence.  So like the time when I worked in intelligence and had to write boring reports for politicians who were too lazy to read I will make it concise and hope it doesn’t give you a sudden urge to take a nap.  So here goes…

Like most years I like to start off the year being all optimistic, you know, making up silly New Year’s resolutions that nobody ever stick to.  New Year’s resolutions like “this year I am going to live healthy, exercise and lose weight”.  Yea right.  Well I did not do any of that and I should really be ashamed of myself.  In 2013 I gained 8kg and, like I like to see it, it is just more of me to love.  In 2013 we also learned what gay guys really think about vaginas and it really should not have come as a surprise that most of us are terrified of them.  I mean we all know that if it wasn’t for vaginas we would not be here but that doesn’t mean that we would want to revisit one, now do we?

On Valentine’s Day one of my far flung family members shot and killed his girlfriend and an international media circus started.  Oscar Pistorius shot and killed Reeva Steenkamp, a woman very few of us ever heard of before this.  Being sad and of great media interest the attention seeking homophobic Pastor from Cape Town also wanted his five minutes of fame and stated publically that Oscar was cursed for supporting gay rights.  Naturally I lost my shit over this a little, but they say you should take it from whom it comes.  Something I sometimes find hard to do.  This year I also realized that Google is making us stupid.  These days there really is no need to learn anything.  If you want an answer to a question you just ask Google; if you want to be shown how something is done you ask YouTube.  As technology evolves making life easier for us we as a human race are becoming ever lazier both mentally and physically.

This year I also had a rather unpleasant encounter with a drag queen that lost her mind.  I answered some questions straight people always wanted to ask a gay guy and gave you reasons why I don’t want to friend your cock.  And in an even stranger turn of events my cat almost got her own book deal.  This year also saw me coming to terms with menopause.  My own menopause!  I. Almost. Died.  I was diagnosed with early onset male menopause earlier this year and was started on hormone therapy.  Luckily, or unluckily, I have not yet grown a second dick yet but the hormones did see me grow some extra man hair.  Luckily there are wax as I don’t think I will rock the cave man look.

My long suffering husband and I also celebrated our 15^th year anniversary this year.  That’s like 40 in straight years.  I also shared some stuff I do that annoys my husband which makes our 15 years together so amazing.  This year was also a turning point in our relationship with us making one of the biggest decisions a couple can make and that is to have children.  This year we started with the adoption process.  It was a huge step to take and a somewhat arduous journey but we are looking forward to becoming a family of three in 2014.  I know looking forward to 2am feeds, nappy changes, being thrown up on and many sleepless nights are not something most people get excited about.  But hey, you all know I am different and I am super psyched about it and you can be sure to read all about poop, formula, sleep deprivation and all that goes along with new parenthood on my blog in 2014.

During 2013 I not only dealt with the lighter side of life but also with some of the darker sides.  I wrote about addiction and how I have been personally affected by it and why I have not had any contact with my father for the last six years because of it.  I also shared with you my dirty little secret with my life long battle with depression and why sometimes wallowing in self-pity can be liberating.  I also dealt with religious inspired homophobia which is something I hope I will see disappearing in my lifetime as well as how the gay community can inspire hate and discrimination amongst ourselves.  Also during 2013 I hit a low point in my blogging career where I briefly wondered whether I should not just quit my blog.  But as you can see I pulled through my blogging slump and am still here.  We also lost a great man this year.  Nelson Mandela passed away and he was a man from which I drew great personal inspiration and he will be greatly missed but never forgotten.

2013 was by no means an easy year.  Looking back over the last twelve months I am amazed at how much I grew both personally and spiritually.  As I sit here writing this I am aware that I am almost at the beginning of what will be a new chapter in my life.  2014 will be a year of change, challenges, inspiration and great joy.  We will be welcoming a new member into our family and I am sure our priorities will shift.  2013 has taught me patience, the importance of resilience, focus and that change is a good thing.  So on this last day of 2013 I am not going to make any silly New Year’s resolutions, what I am going to do is make a promise to myself:  I promise that in 2014 I will be the best version of myself that I can be, accept myself and all my flaws and embrace life.

Till next time.

Prevent the Zombie Apocalypse

So I might be over exaggerating about the Zombie Apocalypse being upon us.  Please don't panic.  It. Is. Not. Real.  But it totally could be.  One day.  In which case you can panic and stay the hell away from me.  I know how to use a gun and I am not afraid to use it. Also, if there is a Zombie Apocalypse I will totally steal your shit in order to survive because apocalypses really brings out the worst in people. If you don't believe me just watch The Walking Dead seasons 1-3.  But this is not what this blog post is about (for now at least).

This year I have again, against my better judgement, decided to enter the 2013 SA Blog Awards.  I always enter these things but never win.  I totally have low self-esteem because of it y'all.  I may even start drinking or abusing prescription medication as a result.  And this year there wasn't a category that completely fit my blog but that did not stop me either.  In the past I was a runner up in the categories for best LGBT blog (it no longer exists), Most Controversial Blog (it no longer exists) and most recently for Best Political Blog (it may possibly also no longer exist in 2014, because I am noticing a trend, don't you?).

So this year I got entered for Best Political Blog and Best Lifestyle and Entertainment Blog.  Both categories kind of fit my blog if you squint your eyes and have downed six tequila shots.  Look, I am not complaining.  I will take it where I can get it because I am a blogging and social media whore like that. AND I NEED YOUR HELP.  I need you to vote for my blog.  Your vote will mean a lot to me and could possibly help me at least make it into the Top 3.  Your vote could prevent me from developing a drinking problem and/or becoming Xanax and Codeine addict.  You don't want that to happen to me, do you?

So here is what you can do.  Please click on the Pink Vote For Me picture below.  It will then take you to the website to vote.  Select both categories and provide your email address and press submit.  They will then send you a vote conformation email and when you get it click on the link to confirm your vote.  It is that easy.  Voting closes on this Friday the 13th at midnight C.A.T.  

 

Nelson Mandela a World Icon

With Nelson Mandela's passing last night I have decided to repost this blog post I wrote about him.  He has touched so many lives, changed South Africa for the better and he will be missed but always remembered.

Some generations are fortunate to be part of historic moments, moments so profound that it changes to course of history and the path of a nation. For some these historic moments are tragic like the events that unfolded on 9/11 and most people remember where they were and what they were doing when the planes hit the twin towers. For others historic moments are joyful and fill one with hope. It's been more than 20 years since Nelson Mandela’s release from Victor Verster Prison that was the beginning of the end of Apartheid. More than 20 years ago Madiba took his first steps as a free man after serving 27 years as a political prisoner and would continue on his march to free a nation.
I vividly remember that Sunday of 11 February 1990 when Mandela was released. I was 12 years old at the time but did appreciate that the release of Mandela was a momentous occasion that would change the course of history in South Africa. At the time South Africa was in a national State of Emergency which meant martial law was applied and enforced by the military and many civil liberties were temporarily taken from us - we were not living in a democratic country. Much fear still existed and the African National Congress (ANC) was still viewed as a terrorist organization even though they had been unbanned. When Mandela emerged from prison all knew change was coming and this provided hope. His first speech signified a new era, a new path and the birth of a new nation.

Sitting in front of our television Mandela’s distinct voice said “I greet you all in the name of peace, democracy and freedom for all”. He appeared strong and focused but uninfluenced by his iconic status. “I stand here before you not as a prophet but as a humble servant of you, the people. Your tireless and heroic sacrifices have made it possible for me to be here today. I therefore place the remaining years of my life in your hands.” He ended his speech by quoting himself during his trail in 1964, quite appropriate as this was the words he spoke before being imprisoned and with these words he would leave “I have fought against white domination and I have fought against black domination. I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die.”
After Mandela’s release he worked tirelessly so see his ideal for South Africa come to fruition. With the first democratic election in 1994 an uneasy partnership was established between him and the then president FW De Klerk. Having been enemies they now had to work together and the apartheid regime had to relinquish power and make way for democracy. Seeing the country change was tremendously exciting. I saw and lived in history. However, not all South Africans took well to change.

The birth of our democracy saw many labour pains and the birth was difficult. I remember my grandmother one day telling me not to play with my black friends when she was there visiting. I was shocked and angerd by her remark but came to realize that not all South Africans readily accepted change as easily as others. Certain generations would cling to old ideologies and would actively resist progress. Some generations would never accept that the beliefs they were indoctrinated with was wrong.
In the years to follow Mandela received many awards most notably the 1993 Nobel Peace Prize which he shared with FW De Klerk. An award he is most deserving off. Countless people lost their lives, got maimed by bombs and wear scars of torture on both sides of the battle; together with De Klerk he brought peace to a country that was on the brink of collapse. People were finally free and the civil war was over. I remember watching smoke rise from a bomb explosion in Pretoria, having had to evacuate shopping centres due to bomb scares and not being allowed to go out in the city at night due to fear. I remember seeing images of murder and violence. I remember reading signs that read "Whites Only" and I was relieved that all of this was now in the past.

Now more than 20 years later South Africa is no longer the same country Mandela saw when he left the gates of Victor Verster Prison. South Africa no longer is a country divided along racial lines and democracy has prevailed. However, South Africa still has its problems: We still battle with crime, curbing the rate of HIV and AIDS and there still are pockets in society that are racists. In spite of this, when I look at the next generation I am proud of the legacy Mandela has helped us leave behind. Children today don’t see the color of their friends’ skin; they don’t distinguish between rich and poor and they were born free of oppression and hate. Yes, we still have much to do to leave our country better than the way we found it but Nelson Mandela can be proud that he lived to see and achieved the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities and rights.  Rest in peace Nelson Mandela, you will be missed and never forgotten.

Till next time.

20 years since Nelson Mandela's release from prison

We are pregnant y’all

So we are officially pregnant you guys.  Well, at least on paper that is because, you know, we have certain "reproductive issues".  Yesterday we had our panel interview which concluded the screening phase of our adoption process.  It’s been four months since we started the process and we have been emotionally and psychologically poked and prodded more times than your average alien abductees.  But now that it is all over I can honestly say that we feel relieved and that it was worth the effort.  We have now been screened and found to be fit and proper adoptive parents.  In other words we will be able to keep a baby alive and be able to provide a safe and loving home.  Now the only thing that is left is that wait for “the call” that will forever change our lives.

I must admit that hubby and I were rather nervous prior to our panel interview yesterday.  I mean, it is the last hurdle of the screening phase and the point where you will know if you have successfully made it through the screening or not.  Even though we did know that we would pass, human nature can be a bit of bitch and self-doubt kept on creeping into the backs of our minds.  So when we arrived for our panel we were slightly anxious.  I more so because I suffer from “foot-in-mouth disease” and sometimes my filter for socially acceptable conversation is broken.  Hubby also says that I sometimes lack tact, but I prefer to see it as being direct and honest.  We agree to disagree on this but I digress…

Our panel interview lasted just under two hours and everything was covered again.  We discussed the whole adoption process, our motivation for adopting, our support structure, our marriage, interracial adoption and its challenges and also what we look for in a child.  We were asked during our home visit, by our social worker, to cut out pictures of babies that we thought were cute.  It felt like were busy shopping for a baby out of a catalog which we both had a problem with.  It seemed rather superficial and neither one of us were terribly comfortable with the idea.  But after coming to realize that our social worker merely needed to get a better idea as to what our vision of our child is we complied.  Sort of.

The most challenging part of our panel was the part where we had to specify what we were comfortable with, or like I like to call it – our shopping list.  We agreed that we want to adopt an interracial child; that we have no preference as to the complexion of the child’s skin, type of hair or sex of the child.  We are willing to adopt a baby that was conceived by means of rape (which is rather controversial), was abandoned and babies that the mothers decided to put up for adoption.  Naturally we want to have a healthy child but also specified that the child should be disability free.  What health issues concern we agreed that we would be willing to adopt a baby that is HIV exposed (the birthmother is HIV+ but the baby doesn’t have HIV) and babies whose mothers may have taken drugs or abused alcohol prior to finding out they were pregnant.

Having to go through the checklist of what we do and do not want when it comes to our potential child is a very difficult and deeply personal thing.  We spent many nights talking about it and painstakingly weighed up all the different options.  We decided not to focus on the outwardly appearance of the child, because that does not really matter.  We also decided to include rape, even though it is a horrible crime, but why should the child be punished for it.  The most difficult part of this choice is the fact that we will never be able to tell the child the true narrative of his/her conception.

Also at the panel we handed in our adoption book that has been finished for three months now.  Yes, we are overachievers like that.  Our book will now be put into circulation for potential birthmothers to choose from.  Compiling the book was rather complicated:  It is the first and only impression potential birth mothers will have of us and the book should be an accurate reflection of who we are.  There was also the balancing act between how many photos, and which photos, to include and how much or how little to write.  In the end I think we found the perfect balance and that the book will give a potential birthmother a good idea of who we are.  I also believe that things work out the way it is supposed to.

When the panel interview was concluded and we were told that we were now paper pregnant it was a huge relief.  It meant that we had done everything we could do and that it was now out of our hands.  It is now time to let go and let God.  The next time we will hear from our social worker will be when our baby is there.  It could be two weeks, two months or at the very worst case scenario two years.  No matter how long it may take, the fact is that we are going to have a baby.  I also believe that the right baby will come to us at the right time.  Now the only thing we can do is be patient.  Something I am terrible at.

To follow our adoption journey click HERE.

Till next time.

Fight for your right to be Queer

Sherry Vine and Mistress Formika are here to kick down the closet door with their new parody music video "Fight for your right (to be Queer)".
 

How to tell if your boyfriend is gay.

Do you have a straight girlfriend? Do you suspect her boyfriend is gay?  Well if you do then show her this video.  It will clear things right up.  It's a public service I'm providing with the help of Davey Wavey and Tyran Southern.  You should thank us, really.

Interracial Adoption and Racism

Last night I watched an investigative journalism program doing a piece on adoption obstacles in South Africa.  They featured a South African couple who wanted to adopt a boy and a doctor from the United Kingdom who, after many years of struggle, managed to adopt her HIV+ daughter whom she had fostered.  Both stories were heartbreaking and only one had a happy ending.  Being in the process of adopting ourselves these two stories touched both my and hubby’s hearts.  Perhaps it was because it is a little too close to home or because we could so deeply empathize with both.  Either way both stories just brought the message home, once again, that adoption is not easy.  There are no short cuts.  It’s an emotional rollercoaster and not everybody is up for the challenge.

Next week hubby and I will be completing the screening phase of the adoption process.  This phase ends with a panel interview.  It’s hard to believe that we have been in this process now for four months.  It feels like it has been years.  Luckily, this is the last part where the adoption agency and our social worker decide on our suitability to become adoptive parents.  Thus far everything went well and I am really pleased with how PROCARE has treated us.  I am also sure the panel interview will just be a formality.  I am fully expecting to he asked some difficult questions during the panel interview but I think we are prepared and ready for it.  After the panel it is the long wait for “the call” informing us that there is a baby and that the placement is to be made.

During the last couple of months the adoption process has caused hubby and I to do some serious introspection about ourselves, our families, our marriage, our careers and our ability to be parents.  It is amazing how far we have come in the last fifteen years and how much we have grown individually and as a couple.  We have weathered a couple of storms, went through highs and lows and always emerged from difficult times stronger and more connected to each other.  Through the adoption journey we also found that we have grown even closer to each other and as we stand on the verge of a new chapter in our lives we do so with excitement and also some nervousness.

To be completely honest, there are some days that we do feel the tingling of cold feet.  We do get days when we ask ourselves if we are doing the right thing, if we will be able to cope.  There are days when the gravity and the enormity of the responsibility of raising a child sink in.  Fortunately, the days when we doubt ourselves and have little miniature nervous meltdowns are outweighed by our intense excitement and readiness to take this next step together.  However, there are also days when little things really upset me and one such thing happened on Friday.

As many of you already know we are busy with an interracial adoption.  Put bluntly, our child will not be white.  Living in a country with a history of racism this seems to not sit well with some sectors of our society.  There are still loads of ignorant people out there, black and white, who do not want to see couples with children outside their own racial group.  On Friday one such asshole posted a statement on the Facebook fan page of the program we watched last night.  The ignoramus posted a response to a woman’s comment who wrote that she had adopted two daughters and that they are colored.  He asked her why she adopted two monkeys (amongst other rather nasty and racist things) and needless to say I lost my shit!  Just as I was about to respond to him with a fiercely worded response the administrators of that page deleted his racist, boorish and ignorant statements.

Being a gay couple we do realize that we already face some prejudice because of it.  Throw in a gay couple with a child and the prejudice increases.  Add to that an interracial child and you have a recipe for a lot of potential prejudice and discrimination.  For some reason some people cannot look past the color of people’s skin and I say the hell with them!  If they want to live in the dark ages it is their choice but they should leave the rest of us who embrace diversity alone.  My only concern with adopting an interracial child is that one day, while out in public, some person will come up to us and say something racist and that our child will be old enough to understand it.  Knowing us, we in all probability would have prepared our child for such an event but what really pisses me off is the fact that we would even have to do so.

Luckily none of our friends who have adopted interracial children had any racist comments directed at their children.  However, the comments and questions that were raised had an underhanded racist tone connected to them and were directed at our friends.  The question they are most frequently asked when they are out alone in public with their child is if their partner is black.  Isn’t it odd how perfect strangers feel entitled to ask you such inappropriate questions?  I decided that if I am ever asked this question that I will respond with a very confident “Yes.  My HUSBAND is black.  What race is your spouse and children?”

For those of us with certain reproductive challenges who want to have children adoption and/or surrogacy are the only options.  My husband and I chose adoption because there are many children in South Africa who need and deserve a loving home.  Sure adoption is not the easiest process.  Sure it is not something that happens overnight.  Sure there is red tape, bureaucracy and the whole process seems rather daunting and invasive.  But once you understand that all this is done to ensure that the child is protected, the child’s best interest is taken into account and that the child is placed in a safe and loving home, the red tape, invasiveness and bureaucracy seem less intimidating and are indeed necessary.

When it comes to adopting an interracial child you are also faced with a whole new set of challenges, but a child remains a child no matter what the color is of their skin.  After all children are not born racist; they are taught this from their parents.  In conclusion, what last night’s program clearly showed is that if you decided you want to adopt you need to make use of a reputable and accredited adoption agency, make sure their social workers are dedicated and passionate about their work and accept that the whole process is a journey and that it takes time.  We are lucky that we found just such an agency in PROCARE and that the adoption horror stories that we saw last night is sure not to happen to us.  My heart would just not be able to take it!

(To read about our adoption journey click HERE)

Till next time.

Should I quit while I’m ahead?

In January 2014 my blog will turn five years old.  In blogging years that is like fifteen human years.  When I started blogging there were many blogs that I read and enjoyed, but as the years gone by many of them simply ceased to exist.  From the pool of blogs that I enjoyed reading only a handful are still active.  Many bloggers simply grew bored with their blogs or moved on to newer better things or died.  But I am still here.  Why?  Well, I am not sure.  Blogging is a lot of work and updating my blog’s social media presence is a seven day a week job.  It’s not like you get days off and, even worse, it’s not like you get paid to do it either (or at least I don’t).  So I am left wondering, why do I do it and should I not just quit while I am ahead?

Many people think that blogging is easy.  I mean, you just scribble a few thoughts down, try not to murder the English language with shitty grammar et voila – you have a blog post!  Well it’s not.  Many weeks I would message my friend and fellow blogger GeeGee with the words “What the fuck must I blog about this week?”  She will attest to this.  Yet, every week I manage cough up 900 to 1200 words, even though it’s seldom very cerebral and most certainly won’t cause you to have an epiphany about your own life.  But people seem to enjoy it.  I am not really sure how I do it, it just happens albeit sometimes forcibly and accompanied by an army of four letter words that I always have to edit out.  You know, because you can’t curse like a sailor if you are about to become a dad.

Through the last few years I also made some “enemies” and I have received my fair share of hate mail.  Luckily I’ve not receive any dead animal parts via FedEx or any credible death threats.  Yet.  Even though I am sure in some people’s minds they have thought about ways they’d like to permanently remove me from society.  Fortunately for me I have grown use to hate mail and it doesn’t really affect me anymore.  You can only be told that you are going to hell so many times before it completely loses its impact.  I have also found that even within the LGBT community there are many folks who dislike me personally and my blog.  Perhaps it’s because they envy what I have; a stable marriage of fifteen years, a career, a mildly successful blog and the fact that my husband and I are about to adopt a child.  Who knows and who cares.  We are all bitches sometimes.

Initially when I started my blog I wasn’t quite sure what it should be and I must admit that in the beginning I really sucked at it.  But, as I continued I found my voice and my blog started to evolve into what it is today.  Every time I hear or read about the plight of my LGBT brothers and sisters, how they are being oppressed and discriminated against, both locally and abroad, a little part of me dies.  It saddens me and I have found that the only way to make it better is to write about it here on my blog.  I am under no illusion that there are better forms of activism and of having your voice heard, but this is what I am most comfortable with.  It is what it is and I won’t apologize for it.  Being somewhat of a misguided optimist I also don’t like dwelling on negativity and firmly believe to look at the brighter side of life - hence my sometimes warped sense humor.

I firmly believe that if you cannot laugh at yourself you have not had enough therapy.  Life can suck sometimes and the only way I get through those days that are just determined to be filled with assholes is by laughing.  You’d be surprised how a sense of humor can get you through the toughest times.  Well, humor and medication that is.  They make a fabulous combination.  Even at times when I am depressed and wallowing in self-pity I manage to find something to giggle about.  And if I can’t then there are antidepressants.  Coincidentally, the antidepressant I am on now is making me fat and it puts me in an impossible position:  Do I stop taking them and have a Sylvia Plath moment or do I remain on them and become chubby(er)?  I mean even my cat is making fun of my weight on her fan page because she to can be an asshole!  And she is way more famous than I am on Facebook.  But I digress...

You guys I have been blogging for a fucking long time and many weeks I thought about quitting my blog.  I have even spoken to friends about it and their opinions have been varied.  Some say yes quit and others say don’t.  But in the end the final decision lies with me.  So why do I still continue?  Well the answer is simple – because you are still reading it.  Some of you have been here since my blog was started, some of you left and came back and some of you are new.  As long as there still is an audience for my blog I will continue write.  I can’t promise that I won’t use shitty grammar, the odd F-word and I can’t promise that each week you will get Pulitzer Prize worthy mind meanderings to consume.  But what I can promise you is this - each week when you return I will still be here.  And to all my haters I have only one thing to say to you – suck it bitches!

Till next time.

Coming out of the closet

Ash Becham's very inspirational speech about closets, the different closets we all have, what is hard and how to break free.  This is a video that I recommend everybody watch, even if you are not gay.  It's filled with truth and inspiration that we all need to hear and can benefit from.

Applause

One day to go until the official release of Lady Gaga's ARTPOP. Are you excited?

Blind kitty, soft kitty, little ball of fur…

Pets are like family members.  Or at least they are to us.  We share our homes with them and our lives.  Most times we also share our hearts with them.  I mean how can you not?  They stay with us through the good times and the bad.  They see us at our best and at our worst.  Through all this they stay loyal to us and never judge us (or at least not often that is).

I believe that if you have animals you have a great responsibility towards them.  After all, they did not choose to live with you, most time we choose them.  As such we have a responsibility to them to make sure that they are safe and that their physical, mental and emotional needs are taken care of.  So what happens when one of your animals grow old and sick?  What happens when one of your furry family member’s cycle of life creeps closer to its end?  What do you do?  This is what hubby and I had to face this week and sometimes it is heartbreaking.

You see Mizou, one of our oldest cats and matriarch of the house, who just celebrated her fifteen birthday in September with her sister has lately been having some medical issues.  A couple of months ago we noticed that her eye sight was failing.  She also developed incontinence and you could see that her body was growing old.  Fifteen is old for a cat, even though some cats can live well into their early twenties.  However with each breed it is different.  Not worrying too much about some of her symptoms, due to her advanced age, hubby and I decided to monitor her and if it got worse to take her to the vet for checkups.  And she did get worse.

About a month ago we noticed that she had what looked like blood in her one eye and the vet told us that she suffered from glaucoma and hypertension.  All of which were directly related to her age.  It was sad to hear that the vet could not really do anything for her affected eye and that she had gone blind in that eye due to the optic nerve being damaged.  The vet also indicated that she only had about 20% vision left in the other eye and that, in all likelihood, she would eventually lose her vision completely.  But we did not expect it to happen so soon.

When I got back from work on Monday I heard Mizou meowing in the back garden.  I called out for her but she did not come to me as she normally does.  Eventually I made my way to her and I found her standing in the backyard looking completely lost.  It was clear that she was disorientated and did not exactly know where she was.  I picked her up and immediately noticed that the eye which had the last 20% vision left had also now gone blind.  I felt immense sadness for her and gave her a reassuring hug and told her that everything will be ok.  “So what if you are blind now, it’s not the end of the world.  You still have many years left in you and we will make the best of it” I told her and she gave me a soft purr and a meow as if she understood what I had said.

I was told that we should go about our lives as we had done before and not to change anything.  Mizou will adjust to her blindness but it will take some time.  She will learn to make her way through the house based on her other senses and memory.  The only thing that we must not do is move furniture around or change where we feed her.  We should also move one of the litter boxes inside the house as she will struggle getting in and out of windows.  Watching her slowly move through the house, occasionally bumping into things is rather sad to watch.  We are not allowed to help her too much as she will have to learn to get around on her own.  Sometimes this is difficult and I literally have to stop myself.

It was advised that we voice train her and she picked this up right away.  Being guided by our voices seems to come naturally to her.  The other cats have not really noticed that Mizou has gone blind and they appear to be somewhat confused about what is going on with her.  The bunnies on the other hand were the first to pick up that Mizou is blind.  They no longer try and chase her and they are much gentler when they are around her than they were before.

My only concern with Mizou and her disability is how she will cope outside.  On Friday evening she almost walked straight into the pool and that was when she had 20% vision left.  Now that she is completely blind the garden poses quite a few risks for her, the pool and the pool net being just one of them.  Also, when our adoption is finalized and we finally have a baby in the house this will also have an impact on her: the pool will be covered with a net which could make it impossible for her to get out of the pool if she falls in being blind; and a baby won’t understand what blindness is and Mizou could accidentally get injured.  I guess there are a lot of “what ifs” here but I am sure that we will cope.

Good friends of ours also went through a traumatic event on Monday.  Their dog also went blind a couple of months ago due to a medical condition.  On Monday his condition deteriorated to the point where the vet told them there was nothing more that could be done for him and that it is recommended that he be euthanized.  This is the most awful news a vet can ever give you.  But it was what was best for him and they had to say goodbye.  I am fortunate that I have never had to euthanize any of my animals and I dread the day that I will be told it is our last option.  I’d rather pay a shit load of money on medical expenses in order to make sure my animals get the best medical attention there is and euthanasia is only the last resort.  But sometimes we must make hard decisions and what is best is not always easy to do.

Our cat has gone blind, has no bladder control and is old.  I guess this is what happens when you get old – you pee yourself and walk into things.  She has been in our lives for the last fifteen years and she loves us unconditionally as we do her.  I don’t know how many years she will still be with us but as longs as she is here I am going to make sure that her retirement is as comfortable as possible.  Just because she is blind and possibly may need a kitty diaper doesn’t mean that she cannot enjoy life.  I hope that one day when hubby and I are in the retirement home we will be afforded the same courtesy.  Wouldn’t you?

Till next time.