Woolworths is Evil

Recently a friend of mine was betrayed by Woolworth and made us loose all faith in them. It's too hard to explain so read our conversation instead.

Friend: Was very proud of this rare species until I watered it and the white pebbles turned orange because... the red is paint!!! Well done Woolworths, well done.

Me: That's false advertising. You should sue!

Friend: When the power goes out... when the water in our tabs dry up... I always held fast to woolies as the last vestige of civilization... absolutely devastated.

Me: They helped me through my paternity leave. If it wasn't for them I would have starved!

Friend: Heck yes.

Me: And they delivered. If I were you I would write them a strongly worded letter about how spray painting plants is inhumane and how it destroys marriages.

Friend: Absolutely and how I expect woolies vouchers to make up for my pain and suffering.

Me: AND an apology to all horticulturists. Because they are the real victims here.

Friend: True. I now expect all plants to come in exotic CGI quality colors.

Me: That is how they ruin lives. They have an evil agenda and creating unhealthy expectations. I always thought their sugar gauntlet was a way they encourages diabetes for pharmaceutical companies to make a greater profit. I have not yet been proven wrong.

Friend: They are probably owned by the Illuminati too...

Me: ...who hates parents who they force to navigate the sugar gauntlet with greater trepidation especially when you have a sugar craving toddler with you. We should protest and have your plant as our mascot. Think we should call her Jezebel.

Friend: Don't get me started... those bags of "big spender chocolate coins" - the worst.. this is what I found on our carpet.

Me: That's how they taunt us. Even their chocolates are full of lies and deception!

Friend: And apparently these chocolates make kids lose their minds. Found our two year old dancing naked on these empty wrappers. We are yet to locate her pants!

Me: Bastards!  Are we going to spray paint ourselves, in solidarity with Jezebel, stage a violent protest so that the riot police have to hose us down with their water cannons so that we can all be like "see, this is what you did with Jezebel, you assholes!!!"

Friend: Yes, let's take a leaf out of the student protester's book and burn something!

Me: We should burn their newspapers. Also, their newspapers makes one depressed just as you enter the sugar gauntlet and that's how they make us fat - they force us to eat our emotions. First they make us depressed and then they offer us chocolates for comfort. Jesus they are evil! We should totally protest for all the fat people too!

Friend: Count me in!

Me: I will start a Facebook events and call it "Justice for Jezebel".

Friend's husband: And here I was thinking you're a cat person? Get the Claws out.

Me: Don't involve Killer Pussy in this. She has access to nuclear weapons. We don't want to start a war with the Jews!

Friend's husband: I was actually talking to painted cactus's owner... get the claws out and tare open some woolies bags in their entrance.

Me: You are a very supportive husband encouraging your wife to be violent. Once you've open that pandora's box there is no closing it. Just saying. Also, Killer Pussy would be proud.

Friend: Was considering asking for Killer Pussy's help but then North Korea will want to get into the action too...

Friend's husband: I thought the pandora's box was already opened when the pebbles turned orange by the bad paint job from woolies... I am very supportive... I will drive my wife there and sell tickets at the door for the claw bag fight.

Friend: Heathen!

Me: Was just informed that woolies sells Fancy Feast and Killer Pussy wants nothing to do with this. Also she is half Russian and half Jew. 

Friend: Deadly combination!

Me: They suffered under the Nazi's and it's a very sensitive topic in our house.

Friend: I will be sure to bring it up then when I see Killer Pussy.

(We never did protest woolies because we are lazy like that. Also, Jezebel died and it was very sad and she would not want to be remembered as the cause of a riot).

Weird Questions Gay Couples Get Asked

Let's face it, gay couples get asked a shit load weird of questions. Here are just a few...

When a Pussy Attacks

If you landed on my blog through a Google search expecting vaginas you should be ashamed of yourself. This blog post is not about the pussies you wanted to see. Also, there is just one photo of a pussy in this blog post and it is the one you see below. But I digress...

My husband and I share our house with three pussies. They are furry, sometimes cuddly but beneath their angelic and sweat demeanor there lurks a malevolent darkside. A darkside so iniquitous and vicious it’s best strangers approach our kitties with the utmost caution or face the dreadful consequence – being mauled! You see our furry critters are emotional unstable and dangerous little souls and every now and again their tempers and tantrums take me by surprise and I am left wondering, why do I share my house killers.

Our most notorious cat of the three is aptly named Killer Pussy. She is a savagely cruel killer. Remorseless, villainous and diabolical she saunters through our estate seeking out her victims. She has no particular preference, if it has a heartbeat she will kill it. She will also eat anything she can lay her little paws. Sometimes it is disgusting as we often find dismembered body parts strewn throughout our house. She leaves this as warnings to us not to fuck with her. It's a not so subtle threat really.

Her absolute favorite snack, apart from freshly killed meat, is a vitamin and catnip enrich cat treat which she gets every afternoon. I think she likes it because the catnip gets her high. She does have a bit of a drug problem but refuse to go to AA. So when the treats got finished, a couple of weeks ago, and the shops ran out of stock our little pussy was not amused! This sparked a tantrum as only a cat can do. All you cat owners out there can probably relate.

Killer Pussy was clearly going through catnip withdrawals and clearly needed to go to rehab but we could not afford it. Also, there are no catnip rehab facilities anywhere in the world which is a travesty.  Getting back to the point, Killer Pussy ignored us, she would sit in the corner of the bedroom sulking, scratch us when we picked her up and when her passive aggression failed to yield the desired result she went to Plan B – breaking stuff. Two broken plates, a torn curtain and a punctured pool lillo later, the shops eventually acquired her favorite treat just in the nick of time, as I suspect Plan C would have involved murder by suffocation followed by her eating our faces.

Killer Pussy's favorite activities, apart from sleeping, are plotting and scheming about how to break into our pantry (the food room as she calls it), furthering her nuclear ambitions, continuing her ill-suited affair with Kim Yong Un and setting her plan for world domination into motion. (If you failed to follow the last few sentences I don't blame you. For it to make sense you really should like her fan page. She is kinda famous on Facebook and Twitter. Just saying.)

Fur Monster was one of our oldest cats and she didn't like strangers and despised children (little humans). The fact that she was barren for so long and struggled to have kittens of her own may have something to do with her hatred of offspring. Whenever we receive visitors we always had to warn the guests of her violent disposition. Many children have been emotionally and physically scarred by her and many adults have too, with my late mom included.

A few years ago Fur Monster’s sister had kittens and my mom and her housekeeper wanted to see the litter/kindle. They went into my garden cottage while I was out. They didn’t make it past the kitchen. Fur Monster and her sister Sly Monster cornered them and held them hostage, literally, in my kitchen for well over an hour. Eventually I received a hysterical call from my mom saying “Your cats have attacked me! I’m in your kitchen! Can’t. Get. Out!!! Oh dear God have mercy!!! H E L P MEEE!!!” and in the background I could hear the housekeeper praying "Jesus, Mary and Joseph" and the cats hissing and growling. Careful hostage negations followed and both my mom and the housekeeper were released bruised, bleeding, traumatized and forever fearful. Fur Monster passed away two years ago and her ashes are kept in my study along with that of her sister - Sly Monster. I am now a collector of cat ashes as a true cat "lady" should be.

Cute Monster is the middle child and the fruit of Fur Monster’s loins. She’s a few sandwiches short of a picnic and the only thing she does well is eat, fart and sleep. She has never mastered the art of tree climbing and is still trying to learn how to play but without any notable success or improvement. The one skill she recently acquired is the much envied skill of paw-to-paw combat.

Seeing as she doesn’t know how to play nicely she settled for second best – fighting. She picks fights with her mother, her aunt and her adopted sister and she usually loses. Did I mention she isn't that bright? Every other day all hell would breaks loose in our house and it’s a cacophony of hissing, growling, screaming with fur and pot plants flying everywhere. Breaking up a pussy orgy of violence is near impossible and after two prior attempts and some loss of blood later, hubby and I decided to leave them to sort out their own shit. If it involves violence so be it! Most things can be resolved with some gratuitous violence anyway. Just look at America liberating countries through war. So why should our cats be any different.

Apart from eating and shitting in the garden the only thing our pussies enjoy doing together, as a family, is kill things. This is where our youngest comes in Lover Pussy.  And as his name suggests he is a gentle soul and is more a lover than a fighter.  However, he loves hunting and he's fiercely good at it.  He also usually leads the family hunt.  Like a ruthless pride of lions (which I swear they think they are) they stalk their prey on the African plains that is our garden. Many a bird, lizard, moth, butterfly and lady bird family have been broken up at the claws of our feline predators. So when a flock of weaver birds decided our leopard tree was the perfect spot for them to raise their families their fate was sealed unbeknownst to them and the bodies started to piled up!

Last Saturday we experienced the worst massacre since bloodshed Wednesday of 8 May 2007. It started at roughly noon. I heard a commotion in our back garden and didn’t pay it much attention until the commotion made its way to under the dining room table. Killer Pussy caught a juvenile weaver bird and was busy interrogating and torturing the poor thing North Korea Style, while the other two Monsters were watching. I tried to save the bird but Killer Pussy would have none of that and ran outside. We intercepted at the pool and I tried to pry the screaming bird from her fangs but she refused to loosen her grip and punctured two of my fingers.  I considered getting a tetanus shot but then realized the hospital would asked too many uncomfortable questions so I took my chances.

As I realized that the soon to be dead bird was doomed anyway and feeling like a horrible human being I let the murder continue. In the lounge I was close to tears as I heard the bird's screams become fainter as the minutes passed. The bird’s parents, family and neighbors all tried to save its life, but one-by-one they too were killed. At sunset the screaming stopped and our backyard was a scene of utter horror and devastation. There are now only four weaver birds and eight eerily empty nests left. Every day and every night our monsters patrol the leopard tree and soon the surviving weaver birds will be no more. They will be murdered in cold blood and we would have to watch and listen. Clarice have the lambs stop screaming? 

Sharing our home with temper tantrum prone killers, admittedly is not always fun. Especially when you need to clean up their crime scenes. But even though I sometimes pitch up for work with arms, legs and hands looking like I shoved them into the blender, I love my little monsters dearly and can’t imagine my life without them. Our backyard may be littered with the skeletal remains of countless avian victims, the bird population on the plains of Africa may be living in fear but my pussies are a delight to have and one day, maybe just one day, the birds will stop screaming.

You can like Killer Pussy's Facebook Fan Page by clicking HERE.

Till next time.

There's Porn in my Backyard.

There are a few things in life that makes my blood boil.  Well, actually that is a lie.  There are a great many things in life that causes the veins in my head to throb.  I can often successfully overcome such emotional inconveniences by counting to ten or proactively popping a pill for it.  However, every now and again I am caught off guard causing me to briefly behave like an emotionally disturbed child accompanied by a nervous tick in my left eye.  This past weekend was one such an occasion as I was confronted again with one of my top ten pet peeves which is sex littering.

Now before you ask me what sex littering is let me explain.  Sex littering is when someone leaves behind, in public, certain items that they used either during coitus or when a certain deranged bitch throws her husband’s porn DVD’s over your wall and into your back yard.  I am aware that the latter is unusual and doesn’t happen to most people.  However, it has happened to me not once, or twice but three fucking times!

You see our neighbor’s, which I have always referred to here as the “undesirables”, has an extremely tumultuous relationship combined with a cornucopia of emotional instability.  Sometimes their insufferable negativity interferes with my inner peace and I have called the police on them before.  But this new turn of events had me utterly bemused.

Sometime during last year I was sauntering through our backyard when I saw something shining as the light caught it in the foliage.  Upon closer inspection it looked like a CD or DVD that was lying face down.  Being naturally curious by nature, I Indiana Jonesed my way through the foliage and picked it.  When I eventually got it and turned it around I was both shocked and very confused.  After all I am a very innocent, sensitive and impressionable person.  Well, not really but it is fun to pretend to be.

Upon inspecting the DVD cover I was mortified to discover that it was a hardcore straight porn DVD.  “What. The. Fuck.” came out of my mouth before I could help it.  "Why was it in our backyard and who left it there?" I thought as I could feel that I was becoming unhinged by the trauma.

Nobody expects to find porn in their garden, especially when it is not your porn.  Don’t get me wrong I have nothing against porn as such.  What I do have a problem with is when someone throws it into my garden.  It is not only inconsiderate but irresponsible.  What if the bunnies we had tried to eat it or if our garden services found it. I mean really.  If you want to toss porn into our garden at least make sure it is gay porn.  Generally homosexuals do not get off on straight porn and I thought people knew that.  Also, our garden services are very judgmental. 

It wasn’t long before my exceptional sleuthing skills helped me track down the sex litterer.  It was our neighbor (the undesirables).  I once overheard her and her husband fighting about porn.  From what I could tell she didn’t like it being in their house and she doesn’t like him watching it hence, her throwing it over our wall.  I honestly think that woman is a few potatoes short of a potato salad.

The only rational reason I could think of for her to choose our yard as her personal porn dumping site is because she is batshit crazy.  Still, that is no excuse for exposing us unwillingly to their straight pornography. Also littering our garden with her husband’s debauchery and sinful endeavors and her condemnation thereof is just wrong and they should be ashamed of themselves. I might be an atheist but my husband is a Christian and Christian folk don't do things like this because they will go to hell. Or so I'm told. I really know nothing of religion, but I digress.

I am a firm believer of the theory high fences make for good neighbors.  I don’t really care what goes on in most of my neighbor’s lives.  I don’t snoop and I respect other people’s privacy.  Most times anyway. As a general rule I don't gossip about my neighbors because that is what my blog is for. But when our neighbor’s shit start affecting my life and encroaches on my little bubble of peace and tranquility I tend to get annoyed.

Thinking that the sex littering was a once off thing I decided to let it go for the sake of not embarrassing anybody.  Also, I didn’t want to talk to the undesirables especially not about their twisted taste in porn or, even worse, their sex life. That is just gross and would be awkward for everybody involved. Unfortunately nothing in my life is ever uncomplicated and optimism has never served me well.

So this weekend when I was searching for other spots where our chickens may be laying their eggs I again stumbled upon sex litter.  Again it was straight porn and again it was the undesirables' doing.  My blood pressure went up and this time I was furious.

I remember thinking “What the fuck is wrong with these people.  Why can’t she just throw this shit in their dustbin or dispose of it in any other way?  Why us?  Why our garden?” Also, do we look like the kind of people who would want to watch a porn movie titled “Sex starved fuck sluts”? After hyperventilated I caught my breath and the twitch in my left eye subsided I thought of the best way forward.  I decided to leave them a harshly worded letter:

Dear Neighbors,

Your sex life is none of our business however you have now made it our business when you first threw the porn DVD “Backdoor adventures of Butthead and Beaver” into our yard on 6 February this year.  Now, again you decided to infringe on my right to privacy and choice to live in a straight porn free environment by having thrown the porn DVD “Sex starved fuck sluts” into our yard. 

If you have some sexual issues, including but not limited to porn, please don’t make your fucking problem ours.  Go see a fucking therapist.  Also, our yard is not your personal sex litter dump.  Use your dustbin.  That is what it is there for!

Lastly, by throwing your porn into our yard is not the solution to your problems.  The internet is full of free porn that could meet with your sexual desires and fetishes.  I know you have internet at home because I can see your WiFi on my phone.  Use it.  Delete it.  Just for the love of god leave us out of it!

Sincerely,

Your GAY neighbors.

I am still checking our mailbox for their apology letter.  So much for being “good Christians” who go to church every Sunday.  The worst part of their sex littering is the fact that we are then forced to throw their porn into our dustbin.  What will our housekeeper think if she were to accidentally see a porn DVD in the trash.  It has been enough of a culture shock for her to work for two homosexuals with a child.  I think discovering a porn DVD in between broken egg shells and potato peels might just give her a heart attack which she could benefit from as she is not a very good housekeeper anyway. We have fired her last week and she is working her notice month but that is an entirel other blog post on its own.

I thought moving to suburbia would be peaceful, quiet and private.  I never expected people to throw straight porn DVD’s into our yard and that our neighbors would be perverts with a preference for entering through the back door and being into sluts.  Also, I never expected that I would need to have awkward conversations with my neighbors about their sex lives, fetishes or taste in porn.  I guess it is what it is.  At least they are not terrorists or god forbid Mormons. After my note they hopefully would be too ashamed to even look at me.  And ashamed they should be. Perverted freaks.

Till next time.

Why we are dying.

I have been known to sometimes overreact when it comes to my health. Hell, I even once went to the emergency room thinking I was having a heart attack which turned out to only be indigestion. I have also mistaken the common cold for Ebola, Bird and Swine flue. There is a word for that and the word in hypochondria. I think it runs in our family. However, in our family there is one hypochondriac who is worse than I am - my sister.

My sister and I can be quite dramatic. And with dramatic I mean we can drive our husbands nuts. Look, we are not easy to live with as we probably have a defective gene that prevents us from conforming to boring social norms. Sometimes we do not act or view the world as normal people do because then life would be boring and accomplishing shit would be relatively meaningless. However, there is one area in which our eccentricity are most prevalent than others and that is our physical well being.

Both my sister and I are very familiar with Google and WebMD. The combination of which, without consulting a real doctor, are dangerous when used by us. You see both of us can easily convince ourselves that we are dying: Any ache or pain could be cancer, a headache could be a brain tumor and each cough could be a new lethal strain of the flue. And most times our worst fears are confirmed by a Google search or by WebMD because they are assholes like that.

You see Google can be very sardonic in the way it toys with one's emotions. It doesn't care if you are in the throws of a full blown panic attack about some kind of imagined disease. It doesn't cushion you when giving you bad news. It just throws it out there in its search results without giving you the contact details of the nearest hospice or psychotherapist in your area. You are diagnosed with a dreaded disease and how you take it is entirely up to you. This is not conducive to a proper and a stable state of your mental health. Also, frugality when it comes to your health is then also out of the window because when it come to your health money should not be an object.

Most recently my sister had to go for blood test. Several things were tested and in a very badly thought out move her doctor sent the test results to my hypochondriac sister. My sister went through the blood test results with a fine-tooth-comb. You can almost say she did so obsessively. Then she went on to Google and immediately had a full blown meltdown. So naturally she phoned me with the horrific news.

"I have cancer" she said in a muttered tone when I answered the phone. "I looked over my blood test results and I definitely have fucking cancer". She then went on to discuss her test results in medical jargon in which Google confirmed that she has liver cancer. Bordering on hysteria she was rambling on about other disorders her blood test results had also uncovered and we were convinced that she only had weeks to live.

After discussing her cancer and three other semi-fatal conditions she now has, I asked her what her doctor said. She then told me that she hasn't spoken to her doctor probably because her doctor did not know how to break the bad news to her. We both thought that was very unprofessional of her. It also goes against some kind of code or oath that she is not adhering to. After discussing her funeral arrangements my sister sent her doctor an email to call her urgently. If the doctor was too afraid to call her, my sister would force her.

Later that afternoon her doctor phoned and shocked my sister with the results of her blood tests. Everything was normal. She did not have cancer or any other fatal syndromes. All the results were normal for the medication she was taken. Obviously relieved she phone me back and told me that she was no longer dying but that it was a really close call. My sister is going for a colonoscopy next week to make sure she doesn't have ass cancer. Luckily she will be asleep during the entire procedure or she would bombard the doctor, preforming the procedure, with a lot of questions. Mostly about the cancer she is seeing on the screen that turns out to be shit.

Hypochondria is not a condition I wish on anybody. Thinking you are dying at least three times a year is exhausting. Having Google and WebMD toying with your emotions is even worse. But on the bright side, should either my sister or I ever contract a serious disease it will be diagnosed early. We are very in tune with our bodies that way. Well most times anyway.

Till next time.  

We won!

I am thrilled to announce that my blog won for best LGBT Blog in the 2015 South African Blog Awards. My blog has now won in this category for the second year in a row!

When the result came out I was very surprised and excited. It is a great honor to have my blog recognized in this manner by the larger South African blogging community. But most importantly I have to thank you, all my loyal readers, who took the time to vote for me. You are the best and the reason why I blog. Without you, my readers, this accolade would be meaningless. Thank you so much for the privilege to write for you and the support you give me in return.