Irritable Male Syndrome

Punch me in the gut and call me Gucci! I have got the male PMS and it just isn’t funny. Now, I know what many of you will say. Male PMS? Come on you must be kidding me? Well, I kid you not, it’s true and it does exist. Recent research discovered that many men do suffer from a condition similar to PMS which they have dubbed Irritable Male Syndrome (IMS) and it is linked to the drop in the male hormone testosterone. The same as women, men have hormone cycles too. But unlike women who once a month have a crime scene in their pants, men’s IMS can manifest at any time and without any warning. Just falling short of being on my period (which I am sure I will have if it lasts any longer) I have been suffering from IMS for the past three hellish days. If you have not had it before, here is what you can expect when you do.

Now, normally I am a tad of a bitch. I just can’t help, it is programmed into be genes. But roughly around mid morning on Monday I noticed a distinct change in my normally sunny but with scattered thundershowers disposition. For no apparent reason I found myself in a foul mood: I was irritable, hypersensitive and slightly anxious. At first I thought it was due to the fact that I only got to bed at 1am that morning as we were out celebrating the victory of our friends who had just won an international competition. But, not really having drunk all that much the night before I could not blame my dismal mood on a hangover which could easily have been fixed with a Bloody Mary. I was feeling like crap, slightly bloated and as emotional as a nun who just lost her virginity. What made it worse is that I didn’t know why.

A few emotional outbursts and going from happy to crazy in 6.5 seconds, the rest of Monday was pretty much a total waste. The whole of Monday night and the early hours of Tuesday morning I was tossing and turning and only got about 2 hours worth of solid sleep. Needless to say when I eventually got out of bed to go to work, I absolutely hated everything. I hated all the clothes in my wardrobe and was ready to take a pair of scissors and/or canister of gasoline and torch the lot. Or at least that’s what crossed my mind and what I pictured in my head. But I managed to stop the crazy train just long enough to get dressed in something cheerful in the hope that the calming and happy pastel colours of my outfit would magically and positively transform my state of mind. But it didn’t.

Some people get road rage, but when suffering from IMS I get road emotional. Ordinary I will be the first to admit that I am an aggressive driver. After all in South Africa you have to be. Not only do you have to be vigilant for bad drivers you also have to avoid getting hijacked or smash-and-grabbed, dodge pedestrians and taxis on the fucking highway and tolerate being harassed by beggars at traffic lights. Under normal circumstances I am really good at doing all of that, but not on Tuesday. Tuesday I found myself to be one of those annoying people with a social conscious. I actually felt genuinely sorry for all those people who I never pay any attention to begging next to the road. Consequently my drive to work was like a bad Hallmark movie as narrated by Oprah Winfrey – a real tear jerker. It was then that I realized something was terribly wrong with me. I mean honestly, I never cry, I don’t even think I have working tear ducts left anymore. But the best was yet to come.

The whole day on Tuesday I felt lethargic, depressed and still reeling from the morning’s unexpected emotional trauma. I pushed through the day and with great effort I tried my utmost not to bite anybody’s head off. Later that evening while hubby was in the shower a KFC add came on to television depicting an old couple who relive their years together just by smelling fried chicken. I balled my eyes out and after that was done I was freaking starving. Starving for fried fucking chicken and a happy fairytale ending - not quite the thought pattern and/or behavioural process I normally have. So came Wednesday I knew I must be suffering from something like PMS. Either that or I was pregnant!

So I did what I usually do, I consulted Google and lo and behold I discovered I was suffering from IMS. “Fucking great!” I thought “Just what I need right now in my life! But at least it’s not menopause, I am way too young for a midlife crisis. Too young and in no way rich enough!” So I knew what was causing my mood swings and also learned that it would only last a few days. I just had to ride it out for a little while longer with as few casualties as humanly possible.

The biggest breakdown I had was on Wednesday during the apex of my IMS and it was with an unsuspecting telemarketer. I answered my phone and once I realized it was a telemarketer I said in my version of a straight accent and in my outside voice “If you are selling something I am not interested!” to which the guy insistently responded “But Mr Pierrie le Rocks, you don’t even know what I am offering you”. I loathe it when people pronounce my name and surname wrong and that guy unwittingly double crossed the line. I completely lost it! The profanities that left my mouth even surprised me and half way through screaming at him in a high pitched voice like a psychotic raving bitch, I realized that the guy had hung up on me. As I stood there staring at my phone in my hand, realizing what I had just done, I was praying for my IMS to just go away. So I went to the fridge, grabbed a large jar of pickles, got some peanut butter, sat flat on the kitchen floor and felt sorry for myself for a good hour.

I have IMS and it sucks worse than a geriatric blow job. Having gone through the last couple of days being all hormonal and shit I have a new found respect for all the women out there. I do not know how you gals do this each and every bloody month and after all this, I now know that I just would not have coped. Looking back at the last week I realized that my unexpected rendezvous with IMS may have been brought on due to a lack of sleep, the change in my diet and/or underlying stress. I guess my testosterone cycle is as a pedantic bitch as I am; a bitch’s whose routine is best kept and not messed with.

Till next time.

Top 5 Reasons People Choose To Be Gay

Born this way, baby! With 60% of Americans thinking that people choose to be gay the FCK8 campaign made this snarky video to set the record "STR8".

If you want to support the cause click HERE

Too Disgusted by Gays. Really Bitch?

Apparently there is a Catholic woman from Massachusetts (USA) who is so utterly “disgusted” by gay people that she refuses to leave the house. The poor woman’s name is Stacy Trasancos and she has a Blog called “Accepting Abundance” (quite ironic blog title don’t you think?). This mother of seven (did I mention she’s Catholic) who clearly should be intelligent as she use to work as a research chemist, noticeably is in need of a big fat gay reality check. A reality check that I am more than willing to provide. So Mrs Disgusted, pay attention this will change your life!

In one blog post titled “Can’t even go to the park” Mrs Disgusted ranted about the queers. Or as I believe she wants to call us – those darn sodomites. Apparently two men “unnaturally close to each other effeminately rubbing elbows” at a pool or two women “rubbing each other’s backs” in a park freaks her out. Clearly her religious and small minded constitution just is not build to observe affection of any kind - after all she is Catholic and loves and obeys the Pope.

I can just imagine seeing her lounging next to the pool watching the two gay guys like a hawk; patiently waiting with bated onion smelling breath for them to do something depraved. Then it happens. As their elbows touch she gasps for air with religious horror, swoops up from her Jesus Christ crucifixion towel and like a duck that lost her ducklings she franticly runs around gathering her brood, all the while reciting Hail Mary’s. Then as she leaves (in disgust I should add) she gives the queers that telling religious “you are destined for eternal damnation” evil eye. But with the lesbian missy bible basher and self professed agoraphobia suffering homophobe behaves somewhat more cautiously.

Everyone knows never to interfere with a lesbian while giving or receiving a massage. Clearly Mrs Prissy did actually get this flyer from Queer HQ on the windscreen of her station wagon with the “Jesus Loves You, but not if you are gay” sticker on it. As such shameful Stacy only observed the lesbians with revulsion. She probably thought to herself “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, those darn sodomites! Now how the fudge balls am I going to explain that to my innocent children? The debauchery!” Poor woman! Life must be terribly hard, frightening, frustrating and confusing for her.

Sad Stacy claims to be so sensitized to the strangeness in her community that she has developed an ever present jumpiness when out in public. She lives in a constant state of fear as she never knows what tarnation she will face once she leaves her front door. No wonder she’s housebound. She seems to be the only pure soul in Massachusetts and all the rest (who naturally outnumber her) are immoral sodomites headed straight for hell. Well, scared Stacy you are on the right track but let me set the record straight and lay the facts bare for you.

Stacy, I will not lie to you. You are justifiably terrified. You see, 90% of the people you come across in public and think are gay are in fact Queers! The other 10% are on our To Do List and we will still get to them! Oh, and just to let you know - you are on that list too! As for your children, I do pity them for having to grow up in your house with your moral influence. You are going to make it so very hard for us to recruit and reprogram them at our reconditioning camps.

We have found that recruits coming from strict dogmatic backgrounds, once cracked, make for fabulous flaming faggots. Converting them just takes a teeny tiny bit longer. This is mostly due to the fact that at first they resist our techniques. But our camp trainers are a tenacious bunch and once they make a breakthrough we have found that the new recruits flourish and wind up trying to make up for lost time. Usually they end up being the highly sought after superstars on our gay orgy and porn circuits, something I suspect you will excel at once we have reprogrammed you too. But this is not the only thing you need to worry about there are so much more licentiousness heading your way.

Have you ever heard of the gay agenda? Well it exists and is alive and well! It is our life mission to destroy the aberration that is heterosexuality. After all it is not natural for a man and a woman to engage in carnal knowledge. How can that be natural if their genitals aren’t even the same? State by state, country by country we are also systematically and purposefully destroying the sanctity of marriage with Gay Marriage. We rub our matrimony and children in all our neighbours’ faces and with fairy dust and feather boas we scream from our perfectly decorated porches “Look at us world! We are fabulous and we are doing this marriage thing so much better than you!” thereby shaming all our straight neighbours right into divorce court.

As if that isn’t enough we fought hard and long to get Don’t Ask Don’t Tell repealed. Now that we have succeeded, we will have a plethora of weapons, fighter jets, submarines, tanks and fighter ships to our disposal. Who knows, one day we may even have our perfectly manicured little fingers on that all important nuclear detonation button. So do not piss off the queers stinky Stacy, we have an army now!

Yes, stupid Stacy have every right to be scarred out of your tampon when you tippy toe outside the relative safety of your Catholic home. The Queers are everywhere and we are coming for you. The world will be ours and if you are not for us you are against us. But just a word of caution, be careful to turn your backs on us as we never leave the house without KY. Turning your back on us will be interpreted as an invitation by you to fuck with us and we will happily oblidge.

Coming back to slow Stacy, dear it’s best you never leave your house ever again. There’s a big bad gay world out there and we know what you look like. Also best get rid of your television set because if we can’t get you on the street, at the pool or in the park we will get you right in your home with our gay network programming. Scared Stacy, be afraid, be very afraid....

...1...2...the queers are coming for you... 3...4...you better lock the door... 5...6...grab your crucifix ...7...8...better stay up late ...9...10...never sleep again...

Till next time.

10 Sexy Sex Facts

Here are some little-known sex facts that may surprise you – or at least give you ammunition for a fascinating dinner conversation! 

1)  The best medicine...  According to the Museum of Sex, the vibrator was originally used as a medicinal treatment for female "hysteria" during the 18th century. The vibrator-induced orgasms helped doctors dissipate hysteria's anxiety-related symptoms.

2)  Say cheese!  Semen contains zinc and calcium, both of which are proven to prevent tooth decay.

3)  Hop to it.  The iconic "Rabbit" vibrator is renowned for two things: excellent orgasm results and an odd smiley face on its tip. Women's Health tells us the smiley face was actually a result of conservative Japanese customs. Apparently, Japanese consumers frown upon "the production of sex toys that too closely resemble phalluses" so the smiley face was added.

4)  Does your man measure up?  The average size of an erect penis is 5 inches, and the average flaccid penis measures about 3 inches.

5)  The sad truth.  While this sex fact is neither entertaining nor humorous, it’s shocking to note that homosexuality remained on the American Psychiatric Association's list of mental illnesses until 1973.

6)  Protect our troops.  Today the US government issues "Support our Troops" paraphernalia; however government-issued brochures and videos featured a slightly different slogan during the WWII era – "Don't forget – Put it on before you put it in." During the Second World War, many soldiers returned home with venereal diseases, costing the government millions of dollars in medical expenses.

7)  Hate the gym? You burn about 200 calories during 30 minutes of active sex.

8)  What a tease!  Burlesque costumes are the epitome of sexy – think Dita Von Teese and lingerie; however, a few centuries ago, the outfits had a slightly different purpose. According to the Museum of Sex, merkins (the bottom half of burlesque costumes) were originally created as "pubic wigs" for 15th century prostitutes. The designs helped hide pubic lice and syphilis symptoms. Nasty!

9)  Justice is served.  In Hong Kong, adulterous husbands get more than a steep monthly alimony payment – a betrayed wife is legally allowed to kill her husband if he cheats on her – but she may only do so with her bare hands.

10) What ever happened to Southern comfort?  The sale of sex toys and vibrators is banned in Alabama and Mississippi in the US.  Weird isn't it?

I Am Ugly Betty

This whole Ugly Betty adult braces thing is seriously cramping my style. It’s been a couple months since these god awful contraptions have been affixed to my wayward teeth and not a day goes by without me cursing them to hell. Earlier today I managed to spill a soft drink all over my cute outfit and had to spend the rest of the day walking around in my stain soaked and now not so delightful fashion statement. Then over lunch time a piece of food got stuck in my braces that I, as of yet, still have not been able to dislodge. Rather glum and reflecting back on my day I can’t help but be reminded why I hate my adult braces.

Having had my braces now for seven months, one would think that I would be quite use to them by now. Well, one would think wrong! I do not think you ever quite get use to wires and brackets in your mouth that’s systematically moving your teeth and grating away the insides of your mouth. You also never quite get use to food that’s forever lodged in between your teeth concealed by metal in impossible angels that not even the best contortionist with the most modern of orthodontic tools would be able to dislodge. You also never quite get use to the idea of speaking with a lisp that you never had before.  A lisp that you now have because foreign objects in your mouth are preventing you from enunciating your words properly. You also never quite get use to having your lips caught in your wires during important meetings and then desperately trying to discreetly extricate them without causing yourself significant embarrassment. No, seven months on and I am NOT used to my braces.  But the day-to-day gripe of having adult braces being as bad as it is, it is only surpassed by one thing - those damn orthodontist visits.

For some inexplicable reason I always seem to suffer some injury, ailment or embarrassment just prior to my appointments. During the last seven months I had surgery, an eye infection, had a nose injury and accidentally poisoned myself, all just days prior to my orthodontist appointments. Needless to say pitching up for my appointments with some disfiguring injury and/or ailment must have had my orthodontist and her assistants seriously wondering what I do for a living and whether my job is dangerous. But being the consummate professionals they are, they have never once asked me and I have never volunteered any explanations. Injuries and ailments aside the visits to the orthodontist are unpleasant in itself and for those of you who dislikes dentists I recommend you skip the following paragraph.

Have you ever heard of inter-dental scrapping? No? Well then let me explain. In the past several months I had the misfortune of experiencing that nasty procedure three times. Three times! It is a procedure where the orthodontist assistant takes a very small file like gadget and pushes it in between your teeth and then pulls it out again, repeating this action several times. Apparently this is done in order to help make space in between your teeth and help them to move faster. Essentially they are filing down your teeth and it is barbaric! This first time it was done to me I was caught completely off guard and was too traumatized to resist. The second time I tried to negotiate with the assistant not to do it, but she did it anyway. And the last time I almost resorted to physical violence, much like a cat not wanting a bath, but the bitch was strong and she pinned me down with her elbow, leaving me squirming in the chair like I was having an epileptic fit.

Apart from being tortured every six weeks by having inter-dental-scrapings and having my braces adjusted (which hurts like a mother fucker), nature also decided to through a spanner into the works. From the onset I decided to get porcelain braces as they are less noticeable but unfortunately much more expensive than regular braces. They are manufactured in Japan. Yes Japan, you know that place which had that bad ass earthquake. That Japan! And the earthquake completely destroyed the factory that manufactures my braces and they currently cannot be found anywhere else in world. The factory is now being rebuild but this time in the United States and in the mean time if I break anyone of my little porcelain devil brackets I am screwed. Do you know what kind of stress that causes? Every time I bite something and I feel something crack, I shit myself a little and pray it was not a porcelain bracket. Imagine, I whole top row of teeth with porcelain brackets and then on your top front tooth a regular one. Gawd! I am not biting into anything hard until I get conformation there are at least four or five spare brackets in a volt somewhere for me in case of an emergency. It can even be taken off a dead man I don’t care.

I have by my orthodontist’s calculations another ten months left of suffering adult braces. Damn you orthodontic relapse! Damn you! Seven months on I won’t lie; I have seen some major improvement towards getting that perfect smile back again. The braces are doing their thing and I guess it will all be worth the pain, embarrassment, drama and unpleasantness in the end. However, the end cannot come soon enough! So until then I will be Ugly Betty, lisping and drooling my way through life until I am free from these damn braces.

Till next time.

Things that make me feel OLD

Here are somethings that make me feel old.  Sure they bring back fond memories, it's just a pity our younger generation have no clue what some of these items are or what they were used for.  Please tell me you do!



Cassette Tapes.  Remember them and Walkmans?

Turn Dial Phones. 

Typewriters.  A true dinosaur from our past.

Polaroid Cameras. 

The VW Beetle. 

Weapons of Mass Destruction

Social media have proved to be the most powerful medium of our generation to communicate, share, educate and connect.  Recently we saw revolutions, riots and protest organized, mobilized and carried out via social media.  With this in mind I'd like to ask all of you who have a social media presence, what are YOU using it for?

Anderson Cooper Gets Spray Tanned

Those who know me well are very familiar with  my little man crush on Anderson Cooper.  Personally, I have never had a problem with his lack of a tan.  After all his pale skin does match his hair just fine.  So imagine my surprise when I stumbled across this video of my man Cooper getting a spray tan.  Obviously it was orchestrated by none other than Snooki of the Jersey Shore, bless her little spray tanned heart!  So here's two minutes and twenty six seconds of Anderson Cooper getting shirtless for a spray tan.

Don’t Look Like a Terrorist

There’s no two ways about it, the world after 9/11 irrevocably changed. And no industry felt the effects of 9/11 more than that of the aviation industry. Gone are the days when flying was relaxing, when checking in for your flight took just ten minutes and your biggest concern when boarding a flight was being seated next to a morbidly obese dude with chronic flatulence. Nowadays, the biggest threat to flying, apart from the odd annoying volcanic ash clouds, bird strikes and/or wind shear, are terrorist and airlines have devised intrusive and humiliating measures to counter this threat. Having had my fare share of humiliating run-ins with airport security, customs officials and cabin crew, I thought I’d share some of my tips on dos and don’ts to help make your next flying experience as smooth and stress free as possible.

Do NOT look like a terrorist. Now you may ask, what does a terrorist look like? Well, I cannot tell you for sure, but suffice to say if you do look like one you will be searched and interrogated. Therefore, always make sure you are abreast of the newest fashion fad for seasoned terrorists and then avoid wearing that! Avoid reading any material containing the words Al Qaida, Osama Bin Laden, Jihad, Taliban, Hijacking and/or Bomb Making in its title, as it will land you in an interrogation room. Pre-ordering a Halaal meal while you check in online is also not a good idea, especially when your name clearly indicates that you are not Muslim. I talk from experience people. Earlier this year I mistakenly clicked Halaal as food preference and I was harassed by airline staff 4 times: once during check in, once during boarding, and twice during the flight. But, even remotely appearing like you may be a terrorist, sympathetic towards terrorists or in any way affiliated with terrorists are not the only hurdle you will face at an airport.

No matter what your mood when you arrive at any airport always be cordial. Sure you may smell and feel like shit after your eleven hour flight. Sure you may be tired because the dude next to you snored the whole flight through keeping you awake. But no matter what your situation may be, know this - security and customs officials do not give a rat’s ass about your problems. Even if you are late for your flight they will take their time and any snide remark or inkling of an attitude or noncooperation from you will, in all probability, lead to a full body and/or cavity search. Which leads me to another important rule to remember – always wear nice underwear! Because you never know when or where you may be asked to strip down to your tidy withies and we don’t want to be any more embarrassed than we need to be. And then there are those tedious security questions.

The airport has no place for a sense of humour. If you think you are a stand-up comedian please make sure you stay very far away from me when checking in at the airport or going through customs. All airport staff has their sense for humour surgically removed on their first day on the job. No matter how stupid or fantastical the questions they ask you may be, answer them as brief and concise and non-incriminating as possible. I once made the mistake of answering “Did you pack your own luggage?” with “No, my husband did”, causing a twenty minute delay as they searched my bag. I was also recently asked in Kenya whether I “ever assemble or tried to assemble a nuclear or chemical device”. Naturally after being asked this question I paused as I was trying to figure out if the natural poison concoction I developed last year to ward off pests in our garden constituted a “chemical device”. So I answered “No, not recently”. Needless to say both my luggage and I were thoroughly searched and each item carefully inspected. Speaking of luggage...

Be very mindful of what you pack in your hand luggage. A couple of weeks ago I took a national flight for a short business trip. As usual when I checked in the check-in-counter-chick was adamant in reminding me not to leave any electronics in my luggage that’s to be loaded into cargo. Being the seasoned traveller that I am, I knew not to do this and I had my laptop, BlackBerry, their respective cables, a digital recorder and its batteries and my camera and its cable in my hand luggage. (Guess you can see where this is going). I gaily made my way to the security checkpoint, got my little plastic container, took off my watch and belt, took out my laptop and BlackBerry and placed all my items in the container.

As I, my bag and other items made our way through the metal detector and X-Ray machine alarms sounded and I was immediately pulled to the side. “Please empty your bag” I was insolently instructed. Apparently all the different items in my bag looked like pieces of a homemade bomb ready for assembly. As I emptied my bag the pièce de résistance fell out – a knife (don’t ask). The one time I forgot to check my bag before I leave home and I left a big ass knife in there. It was confiscated, I was questioned and I, my “bomb” and knife delayed my flight with a good 26 minutes. And then there is your passport. Possibly the most important document any traveller owns.

Make an effort to look like your passport photo. Sure many of us don’t look our absolute best on our passport photos and there is a reason they don’t allow us Photoshop or Airbrush these mug shots – the reason being that if you don’t look like your mug shot customs won’t allow you to enter the country. Exactly this happened to hubby and I with our last trip to Madagascar. You see, a few days prior to our departure both hubby and I decided to bleach our hair. We figured that blonds have more fun and therefore being platinum blond on an island would be ten times more fun. Boy were we in for a surprise.

Once we departed from the aircraft in Antanarivo and completed our little entry form, we fell in line to have our passports checked and stamped. When we reached the top of the queue our trouble began. The custom official looked at our passports, looked at us and looked at our passports again before handing them off to a second customs official who then took us aside. With a thick French accent the bearded lady asked “Is this you? Is this you here in the passport?” pointing to our pictures. “Yes it is, it’s only the hair that’s different” we responded. “No, not you, no, no, no.” She responded clearly befuddled. A good 15 minutes of negotiation later which also addressed my weight gain and subsequent weight loss, at that time, she was finally semi convinced our passports contained our likeness and we were allowed to legally enter Madagascar.

Yes, flying after 9/11 and the subsequent stringent security measures do, at times, make our lives difficult and drive me mad, but at the end of the day it’s all done in an effort to keep us safe. After all I do prefer landing at an airport rather than the alternative – intentionally crashing into a building. It is an inconvenience that is here to stay and an inconvenience we best get use too. I do hope my dos and don’ts will contribute to making your next flight less stressful and a much more pleasant experience.

Till next time.

Remembering 9.11.2001

I, like millions of other people, watched the horror unfold on that fateful day on September 11 2001.  It was late afternoon here in South Africa when I received a call from my sister telling me to turn on CNN, "a small plane crashed into the World Trade Centre" she said anxiously.  When I did, I saw one of the Twin Towers burning with a gaping hole to its side.  Still trying to digest what I was seeing, a second plane struck the second tower.  As fire and smoke bellowed out of it from the tremendous impact from the second strike, I realized the world as we knew just changed.

The rest of the day I spent glued to my television set, watching people leaning out windows trying to escape from what must have felt like hell.  I watched people jump and falling to their deaths.  I remember the horror and disbelieve when both the towers came tumbling down.  People running for their lives and those who escaped covered in a grey ominous ash and dust.  I remember hearing the high pitch sounds of car alarms and sirens as pieces of singed paper and debris came floating down from the sky like snow.  I remember hearing that another plane crashed into the Pentagon and another went down in a field.  I watched a country under attack.  I watched a country in shock. I remember wondering how many people had died.

Today, ten years later, much have changed.  Where the towers once stood now is a memorial park, the damage to the Pentagon is repaired and the lives of those affected by this tragedy have been rebuild.  But the memory lingers, like a bad dream. The "War on Terror" have since became an unfortunate familiar term and Osama Bin Laden is finally dead.  As we remember the events of that fateful day, I also urge you to remember the fallen heroes, not only those who sacrificed their live on that day but also those who gave their lives in the years that followed.

The world will never forget, but will live and overcome. My thoughts are with all those who have lost loved ones on this day 10 years ago and also all those who have since lost loved ones in the fight against terror.

What would you do?

What would you do if you overhear a father rebuke his gay son, saw a gay kid being bullied or see a waiter berate a gay couple in front of their children?  Well, ABC News asked the very same question in a series of scenarios using actors to see how the general public will respond when confronted with homophobia.  The results are quite surprising, see for yourself!