Everyone is Gay

This is the gayest song ever from the band A Great Big World.

The song was written in support of the website Everyone is Gay that offer support for LGBT youth.

A Great Big World believe in the work that Everyone is Gay is doing and stand by everyone who live in fear of being their authentic selves.  They believe that no one should be bullied or treated unfairly based and their sexual preference.

Diversity should be celebrated.

What moms say to gay sons

"Did you need more hugs?  So that's where my cucumbers went? But you like girls?"

Yep, at some time or another we have all heard these questions from our moms.  Check out this video for a giggle or two, or three.

What if Heterophobia was real.

Imagine a world where homosexuality was considered normal and heterosexuality was considered to be a sin. This short film turns the table on "normal society" and ask what if the shoe was on the other foot.

Creator/ Director K. Rocco Shields, also check out this movie's website HERE.

The Straight Girl's Guide to Gay Boys

This is what all straight girls need to know about gay guys.

Uganda: Who are really responsible for the imminent gay genocide.

The world is up and arms about Uganda signing their new Anti-Gay Bill into law.  A bill that now makes it illegal to be homosexual in Uganda and makes it illegal not to report homosexuals. A bill that makes provision for homosexuals to be handed sentences of life imprisonment.  A bill that has now already caused two confirmed deaths in Uganda as a direct result.  But have you ever stopped and wondered who are the actual people responsible for this flair up of radical homophobia in Africa? Have you ever wondered who are the people who now have blood on their hands in the name of Jesus?  If you did, then watch this video and find out who are spreading homophobia in Africa and Uganda in the name of Christianity.    

I still want a gay donkey.

In my previous life I must have been either a zoo keeper or a veterinarian.  You see I love animals and the furrier the better!  This is something that I am sure is causing my husband some angst every time we casually stroll by any pet shop, SPCA, animal shelter and every time he gets a call from me that starts with the words “Honey, don’t get angry but…”.  I am not sure if my accumulation of furry animals is bordering on a full blown obsession and frankly I don’t care.  Our house is slowly but surely starting to resemble a small petting zoo and we are about one animal away from violating several municipal bylaws.  This is why we have high walls and poor social skills when it comes to our neighbors.  Presently, we are the proud owners/parents of 4 cats, 3 bunnies, a tortoise and several frogs which I also view as pets – a pretty normal domestic situation don’t you think?  I mean really, if Brad and Angelina can collect children, why can’t I collect pets?

Just under two years ago I bought a rather expensive bunny cage.  This was my preemptive way of ensuring that hubby would find it difficult to say no when I seriously brought up the issue of buying bunnies.  After all, I did spend some serious money on the cage already and it would be wasteful to have a cage that’s barren of cuteness and whiskers.  Hubby reluctantly agreed after some deliberation and some begging (Yes, I am willing to stoop to begging to get what I want) but he had two deal breaker conditions: 1) I was allowed to get only two bunnies and 2) they have to be fixed.  Apparently bunnies can have babies once a month and can fall pregnant again within 24 hours after having given birth, so two bunnies could easily add up to 200 in a single year.  So shortly after we returned from New York I went bunny shopping.

After several phone calls and spending some quality time on Google I eventually found the perfect bunnies.  They were hybrid dwarf bunnies and it is just a fancy way of saying their mother was a purebred dwarf bunny who had a night of unbridled passion with a pavement special.  Being “bastard” bunnies they will be smaller than your normal bunnies but bigger than dwarf bunnies and when they are fully grown they will be just under 30cm in length.  When I saw them I immediately fell in love with them and that is how Alexei and Alina become the newest members of our gay little family.

Bunnies are adorable, affectionate and highly entertaining to watch.  They also behave like very inquisitive toddlers who don’t understand what “NO” means.  You see bunnies, like most animals, are born with certain inherent instincts that drive their behavior and ensure that they stay alive in the wild.  Just because they are in the save confines of your house and domesticated doesn’t mean that those instincts will automatically disappear and this I had to learn the hard way.  You see in the wild bunnies chew on roots to make sure that their burrows are clear and accessible and, coincidentally, in your house electrical cables appear very similar to roots to baby bunnies.  To make a long story short, in the week that we have had our bunnies we have lost an iPhone charger’s cable and the iPad’s charger also due to its cable being chewed off.

Understandably, we were a tad tardy with bunny proofing our house and we paid the price for that.  Having learned a couple of expensive lessons in keeping bunnies 101 the house is now bunny proved.  We also had to potty training our bunnies.  They can be trained to use a litter box but first you have to figure out which corner(s) in the room they are in they prefer to pee in.  Bunnies are clean animals and are very specific regarding their toilet habits (not much unlike myself with reference to bathrooms).  They like to poop while eating and they like eating a lot so they poop a lot.  If they decided they like a specific litter box they will use it, but if any other animal use their litter box (ie one of our four cats) they will no longer make of use it.  This is a problem.

Speaking of our 4 cats, Boris the youngest of the four decided from day one that Alexei and Alina were his pets.  He spend the majority of his time hovering over the bunnies and he watched them like a hawk.  The fact that they are playful and likes playing with him has really helped them bond.  Unfortunately for Boris the bunnies have the energy level of an atomic bomb and they rarely stop hopping around and playing.  This has caused a very exhausted Boris to, from time-to-time, go and hide to get a moment’s rest and peace and quiet.  The bunnies adore Boris and he adores them and watching them interact in the way they do is really sweet and heart warming.

The only downside of having bunnies, apart from chewing on cables and some peeing accidents, is my allergies.  As most of you who read my blog regularly know, I am allergic to world and I really should be living in a plastic bubble.  But, strange as it may sound I am not allergic to the bunnies.  However, I am allergic to their staple diet.  Being allergic to all forms of grass it should not have come as any surprise to me that I am allergic to hay.  Since we got our bunnies Alexei passed away in a tragic car accident.  Hubby accidentally reversed over him.  It was all very traumatic.  That is how Vladimir came into our lives.  Being a descendant of a wild rabbit he still maintains some of his forefather's tendencies.  However, he loves the luxuries of being a domesticated bunny.  He loves the fact that he sleeps inside the house, there are food on demand and the fact that he does not have to dodge predators in the wild. 

Dimitri, our new fluffy addition to our family is also doing splendidly.  I rescued him a month ago and he was in really bad shape when I found him.  Since he has been with us he had two operations (long story) and his luxurious coat has grown back.  I think all Angora rabbits think they are aristocrats and Dimitri is no different.  He behaves as if he is a prince and he demands love and attention.

Dimitri and Boris have become fast friends but our other two bunnies still don't trust him.  The fact that he taunts them by running laps around them trying to get them to chase him also doesn't help.  I suspect that the first couple of weeks Dimitri was on his very best behavior because in the last two weeks he has been a bad BAD boy.  He has chewed on two pairs on pants (which are now destroyed), chewed off an iPhone charger cable and chewed off a lamp cable.  So now our bedroom (in which he sleeps at night) has also been bunny proofed.  One would have thought that we learned our lesson the first time.

Our petting zoo is growing by the day and I have succumbed to the fur yet again.  Hubby said that this was now the last animals I was allowed to bring home and he drew a proverbial line in the sand.  “We don’t live on a Farm and this is NOT a Zoo!” he said in his Tim Gun angry voice.  I am not sure what will happen if I accidentally cross that line and I am not sure hubby knows either, but let’s hope neither of us find out.  I still desperately want to get a gay donkey (and no I am NOT kidding), I shall make a horn for him and call him our “special needs unicorn” and name him Rainbow.  I don’t think the neighbors would approve and I don’t think my husband will allow that, but one day is one day…

Till next time.

Fuck you Uganda!

As a professional practicing homosexual who is most certainly guilty of aggravated homosexuality, naturally I want to give you my two cents worth on the Anti-Gay-Bill that the President of Uganda signed yesterday.  I do not want to mention him by name because I fear that God will send lightning bolts down from the heavens to strike me as I am such a worm infected abomination according to the Ugandan Government.

According to the Ugandan President I am also a prostitute by default or like he prefers to say “all gays are mercenaries”.  It seems as if Africa is having one hell of a homophobic revival which seems to be fueled by religious fanatics, Christian and Muslim alike.  Since when did homosexuals become such a threat to African Governments that they now need laws and the encouragement of public violence against our people?  Are we really that dangerous?

Well I guess the simple answer to this question would be yes.  Why else would certain African countries go out of their way the imprison us.  Not so long ago the same thing happened to the Jews, Gypsies and Homosexuals in Europe.  It was called the Holocaust and it now seems like history is about to repeat itself in Africa.

We as the LGBT people have worked very hard and fought tirelessly for the rights we have today:  The right to get married; the right to adopt children; the right to be equal under the law and the right to be who we are.  Yet, in certain parts of the world draconian laws are being revived that threatens our very existence.  You may say I am being overdramatic but just read what bizarre things the President of Uganda believe about homosexuals and then tell me again that I am being overdramatic.

For one, he believes that we give each other worms during sex.  I have been gay for over thirty years and I never got worms from anyone.  I mean for god sake, how would that even work?  Is it a new STD that I have never heard of?  Is it something that only happens in Uganda?

He further claims that all homosexuals are actually heterosexuals who just have sex with the same sex for money.  Also, I have been gay for over three decades and I have never been paid for sex.  I cannot believe that I have screwed myself like this.  I could have made a shit load of money by now.  But then again how would that work.  Who would pay who?  If both guys pay each other for sex wouldn’t that financial exchange just cancel each other out?  And if you don’t get paid for sex, are you still really gay?

The Ugandan president also claims that none of us were born gay.  Apparently this was proven by scientist which seriously makes me question the Ugandan education system.  Does he not know that homosexuality is also found in nature across many different species?  Are these animals prostitutes as well?

He also said that oral sex is a culture and that the mouth was engineered for kissing and not for oral sex.  Guess whose wife refuses to give him blow jobs because she does not “condone that kind of culture”.  Well Mr President, if you want to get all scientific and technical and shit, the mouth was actually engineered for eating and the act of kissing is also an “unnatural” act.  Maybe you should criminalize kissing as well while you are at it.

The intellectual giant also explained that the “address for sex” is the vagina, not the mouth or your rectum.  If you use your ass and mouth for sex you will get worms and contract Hepatitis B.  We all know the worm part is ludicrous because you will most likely only get worms by fucking a corpse and I strongly condemn necrophilia.  As for Hepatitis B, you can also contract that from toilet seats.  Does this now mean that all Ugandans must avoid toilet seats as well?  Why not just declare toilets homosexual tools and ban them!  With your logic it makes sense, don’t you agree Mr President?

The West has also been blamed for homosexuality in Uganda.  According to the Ugandan President, Westerners come to Uganda to recruit “normal” people into homosexuality, effectively making these poor defenseless people gay whores.  Having traveled in Africa and being a professional practicing homosexual I can declare that I not even once recruited any person to become gay.

Also, being an African I can confirm that nobody recruited me to be who and what I am.  The Ugandan President also stated that he has a huge problem with gay people “exhibiting themselves”.  In other words showing that they are gay.  Well, unfortunately for most of us we cannot help it because that is just the way we are.  Some guys are femme and some girls are butch and there is nothing we can do about it.

I am still not allowed to enter the boarders of Uganda as the travel ban the Ugandan Government imposed on me in 2010 is still valid.  Apparently they view me as a gay terrorist and a threat to their national security.  It’s actually ridiculous because all of this is due to the fact that we tried to facilitate the escape of a lesbian couple out of Uganda.  We did this in order for them to tell their story of abuse, discrimination, corrective rape and the constant fear of death they face every day in Uganda.  We never managed to get them out of Uganda and I have not have contact with them since.

There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think about them.  If they are still alive the recent turn of events in Uganda does not bode well for them or any of our other LGBT brothers and sisters over there.  Our people are being brutally oppressed in Africa and we cannot just sit around and allow this to happen.  We must stand up and fight.  Edmund Burke once said “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing”.

Till next time.

Why I hate my Smartphone

Those of you who know me well would know that my smartphone and I are inseparable.  We have a completely unhealthy and symbiotic relationship.  Like most people I also spend more quality time with my phone than I do with my loved ones.  Sometimes this quality time is spent in the most cumbersome of places.  When I am bored my phone is always there.  When I am in an awkward social situation that I want to dissociate from I have my phone to use as a social barrier or to utilize as a form of escape.  When I am waiting for a meeting or standing in a queue I have my phone to occupy me.  But lately I have come to realize that I have started to resent my smartphone.  Actually, I have come to realize that I maybe not only resent my phone but that I possibly also hate it and this is why…

Siri is a bitch.  She seriously is.  Whenever I ask her to call my husband she wants to phone some guy on my contact list that I don’t even know.  She clearly is either confused or homophobic.  You see, a couple of months back I tried to “come out” to her.  You know, because she lives in my phone and my phone and I are always together and I thought she needed to know.  Let’s just say it did not go well.  She refused to acknowledge that I was gay and towards the end of our very unproductive conversation she hinted that I was being vulgar.  Ok, so I did call her some nasty names but she provoked me.

Siri also sometimes pretends not to understand what I am saying even when I speak American to her.  Other times she is vague with her answers and answers questions with questions which I hate.  She also refuses to tell me what she is wearing or what she was doing before I spoke to her.  In short, Siri is super judgmental and not helpful at all.  But if Siri doesn’t frustrate me enough then there is also the addiction side of smartphones – the games from hell!

My phone made me a Flappy Bird addict.  Now this is not something that I am proud of and all you parents out there should really talk to your kids about the dangers of Flappy Bird.  If you have never heard of it, God bless you and the rock you live under.  Flappy Bird is a super frustrating game and it will ruin your life.  I started playing it a few weeks ago and I suspect this is the reason I started biting my nails again.  Currently my fake high score is 99 (long story) but my real high score is actually only 27.  It’s been 27 since last week and I just cannot seem to beat it.

I have also since developed a phobia of green pipes and yellow birds.  I know I should really delete this fucked up game from my phone but I just cannot bring myself to do it.  Flappy Bird has found my weaknesses and is exploiting all of them.  It’s no joke you guys.  I fear this game might be the beginning of the Zombie Apocalypse and y’all should be running for the hills screaming.  You should be running with axes, guns and preferably with Daryl from The Walking Dead and then remember that you were warned.

My phone has also invaded my toilet time.  I know most of you also take your phones to the toilet and it is disgusting and we should all collectively be ashamed of ourselves.  But in my defense, I get bored when taking a dump.  I mean really, am I just supposed to sit there while I squeeze out a chocolate brownie and stare at the floor, tiles and the door.  That is like totally unproductive and I could be doing something far more useful during this time because bodily functions really should not make you lazy.

I could be reading and answering my emails, answering whatsapp or wechat messages, updating my Facebook Fan pages, reading some articles or playing Flappy Bird.  Coincidentally, my Flappy Bird technique is better when I am making a number two.  Also, most of my fan emails I get from my blog are answered while I am on the toilet (I know this is an upsetting image that you now have in your heads and you are welcome).  The only thing I would not do on my phone while in the bathroom is answering or making calls and I definitely will also not do facetime.  That would just be rude.

Lately I also found that sometimes I fight with my phone and most mornings I end up negotiating with it and then end up late for work.  I sleep, like most people do, with my phone next to my side of the bed.  This is the most practical spot for it because this is where my phone’s electrical umbilical cord is.  Also, it is at arm’s length for easy snoozing of its alarm clock.

My phone’s alarm clock is an asshole and hates me.  The asshole sometimes tricks me in switching off my alarm instead of snoozing it.  This has caused me to wake up late, be in full panic mode, ruins my entire morning and my hair.  I then also end up late for work by an hour on average looking all flustered.  I swear the fucker does this on purpose!

I have also learned that screaming at your phone does not help.  If it forgets to remind you about a meeting, make you miss an appointment or if its battery decides to die unexpectedly during an important phone call about Flappy Bird, your phone does not give a shit.  You only end up looking like a crazy person; a crazy person screaming at a phone who requires specialized psychopharmacological help.  But I don’t only hate my own smartphone, I hate my husband’s as well.

Just call me an equal opportunity phone hater.  You see, both my husband and I are avid pinners on Pinterest and we are also active on Instagram.  However, one of us is more obsessed with this than the other.  And no, this time it isn’t me.  Whenever my husband has a chance he is on one of these two apps and it fucking drives me bat shit crazy.  He is on it when we watch television, when we are next to the pool and the only time he isn’t busy with these apps is when we are having sex.  I suspect he knows that would just be awkward and that it will cause World War III in our house.

In recent times this has gotten better, after several altercations, and we have decided to be more present when we are together.  I suspect smartphones may have been the root cause of many a broken marriage and I will not allow that to happen with us.  Because fuck you home wrecking smartphones!

Even though I do resent my smartphone for invading my life and personal space as it has, it is after all a necessary evil.  Without my phone I would be lost.  I mean if I have weird symptoms my phone and Google are always there to tell me that I am dying from some exotic disease.  My phone tells me when to be where and what time I need to do stuff.  Some nights my phone even hushes me to sleep with soothing ocean sounds.  But I do hate the fact that smartphones have become so intertwined in our daily existence and that they are so dreadfully difficult to escape from.

I have now decided that I will spend a couple of ours everyday smartphone free, only using it for what it was originally intended – for phone calls.  But for now I have to try and beat my Flappy Bird high score or else the world will spin off its axes and we will all die.  I am doing the world a favor really.  You should thank me.

Till next time.

Tears & Joy

This weekend was a bit of an emotional rollercoaster for us and not in a fun way.  It was an emotional rollercoaster in the sense that it made me feel nauseous, anxious, inconsolable, had me weeping like an emotionally disturb child and also made me feel blissful and optimistic.  And no, I was not on drugs or experiencing some adverse reaction from my prescription medication.  You see this weekend we had our baby shower and on the eve of this very special day our cat died.  The death of our beloved cat was a very traumatic experience and caused both hubby and I to have a serious of emotional clusterfucks, the timing of which could not have been anymore inconvenient.

Our baby shower’s planning started in November last year already.  So as you can imagine a lot of work went into it and there were quite a few helpers.  Hubby’s best friend from work decided to captain this ship and as one can expect from her she did a stellar job.  By Friday afternoon all was organized and all the preparations were completed.  So by Friday evening we were satisfied that the baby shower would go off without a hitch because all the i’s were dotted and all the t’s were crossed.  Unfortunately, as things go in my life, nothing is ever simple.  I have always said optimism has never served me well and this was no different.

On Friday evening hubby went to bed at around 9:30pm to get his beauty sleep for the next day and I stayed up watching television.  I have always been a night owl.  At around 10pm I heard a commotion coming from my study area.  In the study area is a large multi-leveled scratching post where our cats like to sleep.  As I rushed towards where the sounds were coming from I was horrified by what I discovered.  On the floor was our oldest cat surrounded by our other four cats and she was having convulsions.  She was dying.  Instinctively I rushed to our bedroom to wake up hubby and in a very distressed and high pitched voice I screamed “Mizou is dying! YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP!”  This is not the best way to be roused from your slumber.

I woke up my husband because I knew he would want to be there for her during her last moments.  As we got to her I picked her up and placed her on my lap.  She was still having convulsions, sounded like she was chocking and her tongue was turning blue.  She fought off death for what felt like an eternity but was in fact only a few minutes.  At 10:10pm she died.  Her death was sudden and completely unexpected.  As the stroke hit, she fell off the scratching post defecating on her way down.  Both hubby and I cried while her limp body lay on my lap.  She looked at peace but it was very hard to come to terms with what just happened.  Mizou had been with us for sixteen years and it was hard imagining our life without her.

We sat with her crying for a while.  She went blind a couple of months ago and both of us were very impressed with how well she coped with her disability.  At the time the vet did tell me that she was a prime candidate for a stroke as she had suffered from glaucoma, high blood pressure, was old and had weekend veins.  I guess I wanted to believe that she would live forever.  But she died.   At least we were all there comforting her in her final moments.  After a while hubby brought a blanket for us to rap her in.  I gently place her limp body in the middle of the blanket and arranged her to look as if she was only sleeping.

The morning of our baby shower people arrived early to start preparing the house.  I woke up that morning hoping that the tragedy of the night before was just a bad dream.  But it wasn’t.  The baby shower was supposed to be a happy occasion for both hubby and I but we were both heartbroken.  After I got dressed I excused myself and took Mizou’s remains to our vet to be cremated.  It was a very surreal experience standing there holding Mizou’s now stiffened body in a blanket waiting to be helped.  People in the reception area immediately knew, just by looking at me, what I was there for and it made everybody very uncomfortable.  For once I was the white elephant in the room nobody wanted to acknowledge or talk too.  I totally understood why.

After some red tape the vet’s technician came and collected Mizou’s body.  When he brought back the blanket we had raped her in I had to fight very hard to hold back the tears.  I was told that I will get back her ashes on Friday which I know will be a tough day for all of us.  As I returned home I tried to put a smile on my face.  It made me feel fake and disrespectful.  It also made me feel terribly guilty.  I asked myself how can I allow myself to be happy after what had happened.  But there was no way of postponing our baby shower at this very late stage and like Queen said “The show must go on.”

During the baby shower I tried to forget about Mizou’s death and tried terribly hard to just be in the moment.  At times I succeeded but mostly I was constantly on the verge of a panic attack or near tears.  I suspect this may have ruined almost all our baby shower photos.  I just knew that if I didn’t control my emotions I would do the ugly cry with snot and horrible crying noises; not exactly appropriate baby shower behavior.  I am not sure how I made it through the baby shower but I did.  It was only the next day when I fully appreciated the fact that we are going to have a baby and when it finally sank in and brought joy to my broken heart.

My mother-in-law and sister-in-law came by our house to see what we got for our baby shower.  We are having a family only baby shower after we get our child and they wanted to know what we may still need.  As we went through all our gifts I forgot about our loss and got very excited for the new life that we will be welcoming into our lives.  Hopefully it will happen soon.  It was also then when I had an epiphany:  Maybe Mizou passed away to create a space for a new life that is arriving.  We had to say goodbye to a very precious soul who we loved dearly to make room for another.  This filled my heart with peace, joy, love and hope.  This has been a weekend of tears and joy.  Hopefully the next time I cry it will be tears of joy.

Till next time.

Die Vampire Die!

Fuck you Miss Johnson! I can totally relate and maybe you can as well. 

Good news for a change.

So after my rant on Monday I have some good news to share with you.  I managed to rescue the bunny on Monday afternoon and brought him home.  And no!  I did not kidnap him.  It was done all legitimate and shit.  He was severely malnourished and practically just skin and bone.  Someone tried to shave him and did an atrocious job of it.  When he got home he looked and smelled like a bum and that is when the work began.

When he got home I immediately noticed that he wasn’t eating.  At first I attributed this to stress.  But as he became more relaxed I knew there was a bigger problem at play.  On Wednesday I took him to the vet for a full checkup and to be neutered.  That’s when we discovered that the reason he wasn’t eating was because he couldn’t.  It was too painful.  You see due to having been given the wrong food and, from what it looked like, no hay he had developed spurs on his teeth.  It’s rather nasty and looks like little needles that make eating painful:  As a bunny try to eat these needles stick into his gums and as you can imagine it is very unpleasant.  So the vet filed off the spurs and he was good to go.

The first obstacle we faced with this new addition to our family was his name.  I wanted to name him Kazimer which means “The Great Destroyer” in Russian.  Hubby refused that we name him that and as he, in a very annoyed Tim Gunn voice, told me “I don’t want anything in our house that is known as The Great Destroyer.  This is why we can’t have nice things!”  So we decided to name him Dimitri which means “Lover of Earth” in Russian.  Hubby made our bun less of a worrier and more of a hippie because he is kind that way.  A bigger problem though was socializing Dimitri with our other bunnies.

As you may recall we have two other bunnies and they are both neutered boys.  They have bonded and love each other very much.  Apparently it is very strange to have two male bunnies bonded in this way but I guess it is true that the gay do rub off and is indeed contagious.  But before you call Nigerians to stone me – I am being facetious.  Knowing that socializing a new bunny with a bonded pair is notoriously difficult I thought “How bad can it really be?”  Well the answer is really bad.

With the first introduction there was a big ass fight between our youngest and smallest bun and Dimitri.  Fur flew, water bowels where thrown and there were tantrums and lots of screaming.  Ok, so the screaming was done by me but you get the idea.  Consequently to the first introduction and fight there was three more introductions all of which saw me have mini nervous breakdowns and took a couple of years off my life.  I have also, in the mean time, employed several other sneaky tricks to ease them into accepting one another and the experts tell me that socializing them to the point where there are no longer fights could take anything from three weeks to eight months.

Dimitri is a gentle soul and has a very easy going personality.  He is very similar to our only male cat and I foresee that the two of them will become great friends down the line.  It took me two days to potty train Dimitri which also shows that he is super intelligent.  His favorite thing to do in the evenings is to chill with us on the couch and he loves cuddles.  This is a far cry from what he was use to.  He was kept in a chicken wire cage at an Angora breeder in which he could barely turn around.  He was only taken out of that cage to breed and to be shaved.  When he stopped eating the breeder was too stingy to take him to a vet and dumped him at a pet shop where, according to the vet, he would have died in three weeks from starvation if he wasn’t rescued.

It breaks my heart to know that there are people out there who doesn’t give a shit about animals; people who treat animals so badly that death would be preferable.  It makes my blood boil.  What I find appalling is the fact that bunnies are becoming more popular as pets.  People buy these cute little fur balls from a pet shop without knowing anything about them.  The have no clue about their diets, their health, emotional needs and what it takes to raise a happy, healthy and well rounded bunny.  Then at the first sight of problems they dump them.  My plea is that before anyone adopts or buys a pet first do your research.  Find out as much as you can about that animal and then decide if that pet will fit your lifestyle and if you will be capable and willing to care for that animal for the rest of that animal’s life.

Till next time.

Things that get my tits in a twist

I know... I know… You are going to say please just not another blog post about some kind of rant.  But I am sorry; I am going to rant because I am fucking piss off!  As most of you know I am an avid animal lover to which my ever expanding menagerie is a testament.  I love all animals.  Ok, that’s not entirely true.  I hate spiders, snakes and all worms with fur on them.  Well, technically they are insects and reptiles but apart from them I am like Noah but without a message from God or an ark.  I must also admit that I sometimes like animals more than I do people as animals have no malice, don’t start wars or are not responsible for gross violations of human rights.  This is why when animals are being abused, mistreated or neglected I lose my shit and this is exactly what happened this weekend.

You see this weekend hubby and I went to our local nursery to have a look at some plants.  In December last year hubby took out all the invader plants in our backyard and it now looks like a drag queen’s face who have been out in the rain smoking crack.  We decided to take out all the invader plants not because we had some kind of xenophobic plant attack but because the invader plants were taking over our back garden and killing all our other indigenous plants.  Invader plants are assholes like that and you should never ever trust a sword fern.  They are evil and very hard get rid off and difficult to kill!  So with our back garden looking sad and barren we decided that this weekend we will get some indigenous plants and start with our backyard’s rejuvenation.  Also, the plants that we need to buy must not look scrumptious to our bunnies and also not be poisonous to them either.  Quite a tall order I know.

When we arrived at our local nursery it was right in the middle of the heat of the day and they were busy watering their plants with their sprinkler system.  Good for the plants.  Not so good for us.  It is really difficult to do plant shopping when you are constantly being sprayed with water.  I was also wearing flip flops (don’t judge me) and I was busy getting grossed out by all the water puddles that were forming.  So I eventually told hubby that we should call it a day but first I wanted to have a look around the pet shop they have at the nursery.  This is where the problem started.

While walking around I noticed that the pet shop had their normal range of small rabbits.  All bundled into different cages separated by breed.  It wasn’t long before I spotted a bunny that looked really despondent and was kept separately in his own cage.  He was an adult French Angora rabbit and rather huge one at that.  He was sitting in his small cage with his back towards the outside; his cage littered with the feces of other animals that were there before him.  He had no hay (which is an essential part of a rabbit's diet and especially that of Angoras), no rabbit pellets but only what looked like dog food and water.  He looked depressed and when I acknowledge that I had seen him he turned to me and I could see he was also starved for interaction of any kind.  Rabbits are social animals after all.

Later that afternoon when we got home I told my husband that I cannot stop thinking about that rabbit.  Hubby also said that it upset him to see the rabbit being held in those conditions.  We then mutually decided that the next day we would rescue him.  Of course my husband’s conditions were that the rabbit had to be neutered and thoroughly get checked out by our vet to which I agreed.  On Sunday morning we returned to the pet shop.  Hubby warned me to not cause a scene or to go all PETA on their asses and that I had to be diplomatic which is sometimes hard for me as I suffer from foot-in-mouth disease.  After questioning the shop assistant about the rabbit’s history I learned that he was one year old and had belonged to a breeder who wanted to get rid of him because he was fighting with the other rabbits.  So it seems that if you are a rabbit at a breeder and if you do not behave or have served your purpose you are either killed or thrown away.  Great way to treat animals, ain’t it?

The sad part is that adult rabbits rarely get bought at pet shops or get adopted.  The general public always seems to go for the cute baby rabbits and the older ones are over looked.  The distressing reality is that when people buy bunnies as pets they know very little about them.  They don’t know what their nutritional and emotional requirements are or the fact that rabbits are high maintenance pets and are expensive to keep.  They are not suitable pets for children under the age of 8 and if you do want to keep them inside the house you need to bunny proof or else the bunny will destroy things.  When these people then wakeup to the reality that rabbits are more labor intensive than cats and dogs and more expensive to maintain they tend to want to get rid of them.  Some “set them free” and think that the rabbit will be fine.  What people don’t realize is that domesticated rabbits cannot survive in the wild and they will die.

After speaking the shop assistant and checking out the French Angora up close we were told that we would have to speak to the owner before “buying” him.  We ran into a snag and to make a long story short, if all goes well, we will be able to fetch him on Wednesday.  Only then will we be able to access his health and determine what effect having been kept by an unscrupulous breeder has had on his physical and emotional health and determine what kind of rehabilitation he may require.  Luckily our cats and bunnies are all very chilled and I am sure they will help him become the happy bunny he is destined to be, instead of an animal whose sole purpose is to breed.

I sometimes wish that all people who consider themselves to be “animal breeders” would be required to obtain a license from the SPCA to do so.  Also, I wish that the SPCA could inspect all the animal breeders to make sure that the animals are taken care of properly and that their living conditions are acceptable.  There are so much animal abuse and neglect going on in the world and I don’t understand how people keep animals if they cannot care for them.

Lastly, I also wish that people who adopt rabbits would educate themselves about these highly intelligent animals before they get them.  Animals are not your property that you own.  They are not things.  They are living creatures which you cannot just throw away when you are tired of them or when they misbehave.  When you buy or an adopt an animal that animal is your responsibility and the way you take care of and treat that animal says a lot about who you are as a human being and the respect you have for life around you.

Till next time.

What Gay Guys Think About Vaginas.

Watch this video and you will see as it turns out, gay men have a lot to say about vaginas. If you love this, share it on your Facebook timeline.  Thank you vaginas!

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.