"The delightful and dreary sides of gay life. The views and experiences of a thirty something guy trying to navigate his way through life. Sometimes funny, sometimes serious, but always entertaining."
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.
It's time to sell your soul. Don't worry, it won't hurt. Much. Also, no puppies or kittens will be harmed during this treacherous process. You know, because I sometimes love animals more than I do people because sometimes people can be assholes. And even though I am gay and am very familiar with assholes, this is not the kind I wish to explore. But I digress.
It is Blog Award Season again and my blog has again been entered for best LGBT blog. Yes, this is the same category in which I won last year and I thank you for all the votes you cast for me. This year I am asking you to vote for my blog again and let's see if we can make it a two-for-two.
So if you like my blog, or love it, or hate it, please consider voting for me.
To vote all you have to do is CLICK THIS LINK.Add your email and vote. The last step is to confirm your vote with the email that will be sent to you. The whole process takes less than a minute.
So please vote. Don't be shy. I won't judge you if you don't but my cat will because she is very judgmental and sometimes an asshole. Just saying.
As some of you know, I stopped blogging for a couple of months. I even considered quitting for good. The main reason being that I am so much more than my social media persona. There are so many more layers of myself. Most of us project a very different image of ourselves on social media and it is rare when your social media persona is congruent with the essence of who you truly are. So why do we do this?
Over the years I found that the person people like to read about on my blog is only one tenth of who I am. In reality it is very difficult for me to be a fucking delightful person All. Of. The. Time. After a while it feels like this is all that people want from you. That this is only what people want to read about me and my life. We never project a true image of ourselves on the internet. We don't post the truth when we are really depressed. Instead why pretend everything is fine. That all is ok when it is not.
I think we do this because we are scared that if we reveal that side of ourselves that the people on our friend list will judge us. It seems that most of us seek approval and acceptance on social media which is a shame. We don't want to sound weak. We don't want people to know our true thoughts and feelings. We want to present a facade to the world. We want to appear to be the person people want to see in the cyber world. We pretend we are better than what we actually are.
Let's face it, life is not always a ray of sunshine. Sometimes things are rather shitty. We might have issues at work, in our relationship and/or with our families. Yet, on social media, it is very rare that we will reveal this. And the people who do we see as attention seeking or pathetic. They are the people who depresses us and the people we see as complainers and we judge them for sharing. Furthermore, we also judge them for "over sharing" and this is why most of us don't share our troubles and only put on that fake social media smile.
I have found that I have done this quite often on social media. I have always tried to be delightful and funny on my blog. I wanted people to laugh, I wanted people to smile and brighten their day. I wanted, and still do, people to like my blog.
The truth is that this is only a small part of who I am. I rarely blog about my struggle with depression and anxiety. Like I said before I didn't blog about this because I did not want people to judge me. I also know of quite a lot of people who will be judgemental. But the truth is we do not share this part of our lives because we are either ashamed of suffering from mental illness or we are afraid that if people knew they will see us differently. We don't want to share that part of our lives with people, especially not total strangers.
It has been said that many comedians suffer from depression. Often this is a side of themselves we do not see or would not even believe to be true. After all they are so funny and energetic on stage. We have come to accept that they will make us laugh and assume that they're always like that. We don't want to know about their issues off stage because, god forbid, that will make them seem less funny. The same goes for us - bloggers.
People don't want to read on social media about your shit depressing day. This is why we, most of the time, I never share it. The person we present ourselves to be on the internet is the person we want to be. The person we want other people to believe we are.
I have decided that I will no longer confine myself to the persona people want to believe I am on the internet and social media. I will own my life. Sure I will still not completely reveal all of myself because there is a thin line between privacy and revealing too much. Certain things should remain private. But I have decided to not always appear to be the comedian and delightful person you would like at your dinner party because that is not who I am. I am the person who would rather spend the night at home than go to a party. The person who do not like crowds because they make me anxious. The person who isn't always happy and content. I am who I am and if people do not like me, well then they can go fuck themselves.
Coming to this decision probably comes with age and maturity. It is also quite liberating when you have made this decision. I do recommend it for most of you. Be who you are. Be who you were born to be. We are more than our social media personas.
In January 2014 my blog will turn five years old. In blogging years that is like fifteen human
years. When I started blogging there
were many blogs that I read and enjoyed, but as the years gone by many of them
simply ceased to exist. From the pool of
blogs that I enjoyed reading only a handful are still active. Many bloggers simply grew bored with their
blogs or moved on to newer better things or died. But I am still here. Why? Well,
I am not sure. Blogging is a lot of work
and updating my blog’s social media presence is a seven day a week job. It’s not like you get days off and, even
worse, it’s not like you get paid to do it either (or at least I don’t). So I am left wondering, why do I do it and
should I not just quit while I am ahead?
Many people think that blogging is easy. I mean, you just scribble a few thoughts
down, try not to murder the English language with shitty grammar et voila – you have a blog post! Well it’s not. Many weeks I would message my friend and
fellow blogger GeeGee with the words “What
the fuck must I blog about this week?”
She will attest to this. Yet,
every week I manage cough up 900 to 1200 words, even though it’s seldom very
cerebral and most certainly won’t cause you to have an epiphany about your own life. But people seem to enjoy it. I am not really sure how I do it, it just
happens albeit sometimes forcibly and accompanied by an army of four letter
words that I always have to edit out.
You know, because you can’t curse like a sailor if you are about to
become a dad.
Through the last few years I also made some “enemies” and I have received my fair
share of hate mail. Luckily I’ve not
receive any dead animal parts via FedEx or any credible death threats. Yet. Even
though I am sure in some people’s minds they have thought about ways they’d
like to permanently remove me from society.
Fortunately for me I have grown use to hate mail and it doesn’t really affect
me anymore. You can only be told that
you are going to hell so many times before it completely loses its impact. I have also found that even within the LGBT
community there are many folks who dislike me personally and my blog. Perhaps it’s because they envy what I have; a
stable marriage of fifteen years, a career, a mildly successful blog and the
fact that my husband and I are about to adopt a child. Who knows and who cares. We are all bitches sometimes.
Initially when I started my blog I wasn’t quite sure what it
should be and I must admit that in the beginning I really sucked at it. But, as I continued I found my voice and my
blog started to evolve into what it is today.
Every time I hear or read about the plight of my LGBT brothers and
sisters, how they are being oppressed and discriminated against, both locally
and abroad, a little part of me dies. It
saddens me and I have found that the only way to make it better is to write
about it here on my blog. I am under no
illusion that there are better forms of activism and of having your voice heard,
but this is what I am most comfortable with. It is what it is and I won’t apologize for it. Being somewhat of a misguided optimist I also
don’t like dwelling on negativity and firmly believe to look at the brighter
side of life - hence my sometimes warped sense humor.
I firmly believe that if you cannot laugh at yourself you
have not had enough therapy. Life can
suck sometimes and the only way I get through those days that are just determined
to be filled with assholes is by laughing.
You’d be surprised how a sense of humor can get you through the toughest
times. Well, humor and medication that
is. They make a fabulous
combination. Even at times when I am
depressed and wallowing in self-pity I manage to find something to giggle
about. And if I can’t then there are
antidepressants. Coincidentally, the antidepressant
I am on now is making me fat and it puts me in an impossible position: Do I stop taking them and have a Sylvia Plath
moment or do I remain on them and become chubby(er)? I mean even my cat is making fun of my weight
on her fan page because she to can be an asshole! And she is way more famous than I am on Facebook. But I digress...
You guys I have been blogging for a fucking long time and
many weeks I thought about quitting my blog.
I have even spoken to friends about it and their opinions have been
varied. Some say yes quit and others say
don’t. But in the end the final decision
lies with me. So why do I still
continue? Well the answer is simple –
because you are still reading it. Some
of you have been here since my blog was started, some of you left and came back
and some of you are new. As long as
there still is an audience for my blog I will continue write. I can’t promise that I won’t use shitty
grammar, the odd F-word and I can’t promise that each week you will get Pulitzer
Prize worthy mind meanderings to consume.
But what I can promise you is this - each week when you return I will
still be here. And to all my haters I have
only one thing to say to you – suck it bitches!
From the hideous badge on top of
my blog you can probably deduce that it is that time of year again. Against my better judgment I unwittingly
entered to 2012 SA Blog Awards. You see,
I thought I was re-registering on their website and BAM, my blond
predisposition caused me to enter this silly blog awards again. Since I started my blog (almost 4 years ago,
yes it has been that long) I have always managed to be nominated but I have
never actually managed to win. This has
led me to believe that I am the Suzan Lucci of the blogosphere. This year I have been nominated in two
categories, Best Lifestyle/ Entertainment
Blog and Best Political Blog
(because of all the shit I cause for homophobes). Will my Susan Lucci curse be broken this
year? Will you help me break it? If you do, then please click on the hideous
badge and vote or CLICK HERE. Also don’t forget to
confirm your vote. Voting closes on 28
December 2012.
As my regular readers know, I do get my fair share of hate
mail. In the 3 and a half years since I
started this blog I have received hate mail from fanatical Christians, the
Phelps family from the “God Hates Fags”
fertility, charlatan therapists who claim to be able to cure homosexuality,
pastors and most recently fellow homosexuals. In principle I do not mind hate
mail. After all if people are so
offended by what you write that they will take the time to formulate their abhorrence
for you in an email, you must be doing something right. Right?
It wasn’t until recently that I realized
that receiving hate mail isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I came to realize that I actually love hate
mail and this is why.
Admittedly when I started this blog I was rather naïve. I believed that I would put my mind meanderings
down on paper once a week and maybe a couple of friends would read it. And that is exactly what happened, at first
that is. Soon, almost like it happened
over night, it wasn’t only friends and a few family members who read my blog
and, to my surprise, I realized that I actually had build up an international
audience and that my audience was growing.
This is something that is quite flattering for most bloggers. But building and growing an audience also
comes with a dark side.
You see, when your blog starts to get discovered and your
Google search rating goes up, chances are that your blog will also get the
wrong kind of attention; the kind of attention that will see you getting hate
mail. I distinctively remember the first
hate mail I received. I was sitting in
front of my computer minding my own business.
I had a fabulous hair day that day and it had great volume. I was in a good mood and looked only slightly
surprised at the time because my Botox was starting to wear off. I downloaded my email and there it was. The subject line both confused and intrigued
me.
“Faggots burn and so
shall you” the subject line read. “Curious title for an email” I remember
thinking. So I opened the email and
right from the first line I could tell this was not fan mail. The gist of the mail was that I will burn in
hell and it had a superfluity of Bible verses to substantiate this claim. As time passed and my subsequent hate mail piled
up I became very well acquainted with the Bible’s Leviticus chapters 18, 20
& 22, Romans 1, Genesis 2, Mathew 8 & 19 and Luke 7 (to mention but just a few). Every hate mail I received from alleged “Christians”
folk was like a little Bible study lesson in hatred and intolerance. And I never did enjoy Sunday School to start
with. But one day one particular hate
mail flattered me with my suggested infamy.
The hate mail was titled “The Abomination of Humanity”.
I have blogged
about this before; I was that
impressed with the new title I was bestowed.
I even considered putting it on my resume and it would have read: Pierre
le Roux, Veracity Expert, Profiler, Forensic Investigator, Blogger and The
Abomination of Humanity. I could just
see how I was going to be head hunted by Fortune 500 companies. After all I was not just An Abomination and was THE Abomination, a feat and designation
that I think only the dark lord has been honored to have. I mean who wouldn’t want to hire me when it
is eluded that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, just imagine what fury
The Abomination of Humanity could release if scorned. I was considering walking up the people in
meetings and going “BOO!!” before
handing them my business card. But it is
not just misguided fanatical Christian who has sent me their diatribe, the gays
has done so too.
You see, queer folk even though we are suppose to be the
LBGT community; we tend to be a bitchy, jealous and spiteful bunch at the best
of times. Some call this our flare for
the dramatic, others call it spirited flamboyance, but in it is what it
is. I guess some of the articles I have
written perhaps hit a nerve or a few tiaras too many and it encouraged a few
limp wristed pseudo intellectual queens to take to their laptops and write me a
few hate mails. Now, one thing you
should know is that no one writes better hate mails than gay folks. Gays are articulate, sarcastic and mean
spirited in a way that would make the Nazis’ Hitler envious.
Recently, one of my articles was published on a certain website. It dealt with all the fucked up people who
uses Facebook as their personal sex hookup site or platform to air all their
dirty laundry. It was quite an innocent
and only mildly offensive article. Or at
least I thought it was but clearly some queens took great umbrage at the
article and decided to comment on it. When
some noticed that I was ignoring their negativity like I ignore a freshly passed
bowl movement that I flush away without giving it a second glance, they took to
their Gmail accounts and in total I received 14 hate mails.
The first couple of hate mails attacked my writing style
because apparently they expect everything they read on the internet to be of Pulitzer
Prize quality. Curious, seeing as their
own writing style is on the same standard of twelve year olds. Just because you know how to use a thesaurus
and use big words doesn’t demonstrate that you are intelligent or have the
ability to write literature (Just saying). Then there were the others who attacked me
like they have known me for years. Well,
those hate mails were interesting to read but mostly as fiction. I could only wish that I was as immoral and
that even ten percent of the debauchery they suggested I am involved with were
true. However, they did give me some
very interesting ideas.
Yes, hate mail can sometimes make for some riveting reading. Sure if you get them they can be quite disconcerting the first couple of times. In
the beginning they did cause me to behave like an emotional disturbed monkey in
a Hello Kitty slasher movie and I did finance a significant portion of Häagen-Dazs’
South African operations. But as time
goes by and you receive more hate mail, you learn to see it for what it is and
you can find the humor in them. If you
are a blogger you need to accept that these things will happen and you need to put
your big girl panties on and deal with it.
And if you can’t, then there is a lovely river in Egypt called de-nile, it’s
best to get yourself a nice felucca and to sail down it blissfully.
It’s not often that I get guest writers for my blog. In fact in the last 2 years I have only had 4. So seeing as I was going through a short lived phase of not loving my blog much and having one of my close friends being bored at work, I suggested he write an article for me. A good idea at the time. Or so it seemed. But it didn’t go quite as planned and it had me suffer a brief panic attack and caused a rather humorous fall out. Here’s how it went down.
Ok, so lately my fagaliciousness hit what you may call a speed bump. My serotonin levels took a dip and my creative juices ran low. I wasn’t really in the mood to write and my last shitty blog post is a literary example of that. So when the opportunity presented itself to have someone else write a fresh and inspired article for my blog I grabbed it with both hands and wrestled it to the ground. My hairstylist (the creative genius) had a slow day at work and offered to write a blog post. It was to be titled “Straight Eye for the Queer Guy”. Brilliant, I thought. A straight man’s perspective on us queer folk has the potential to be insightful, funny and could get loads of hits. You know I am a whore when it comes to unique visitors to my blog. So I gave him the green light and anxiously waited for him to pen it down.
Later that day I got a call from him and he read me the first two paragraphs and I was impressed. It was witty and sounded like a piece my readers would really enjoy. That evening my husband brought me the DVD disk with what promised to be a really good article. The creative genius told me that I should not feel obliged to publish his article and gave me Carte Blance to edit it as I saw fit. I thought the editing would be a breeze, but I was wrong. What seemed to be a good idea and promising article turned out to be quite the opposite.
The article turned out to be a clusterfuck of confusion. It started off quite interesting but at paragraph 3 it descended into an incoherent mind fuck addressing issues ranging from Lady Gaga’s lack of a wiener to spy cams and elves. I’m sure it all made sense in the creative genius’s head but I could not figure it out. So I went about trying to fix it. I tried to re-write the article several times, but with each attempt it only got worse. So I started to panic. I was faced with the unpleasant choice – do I hurt my friend’s feelings and don’t publish it or do I publish it and have my readers think the author is riding on the crazy train. I mulled over this for several hours. But finally I had to concede that the article was not good and I was very nervous about breaking the news to my friend. So I did what any one in my position would do, I BBM’ed his wife.
Me:Hey, I have a conundrum. How do I tell your man that I am not going to use his article? I tried to fix it, I really did for 2 hours. It just aint working!
Wife:LoL!!! Hahaha….. my only advice is shit I have none!!!
Me:Thanks for nothing! I will then go with the “Fuck, I got mugged & the only thing they stole was the DVD with your article on it! But at least I am OK” Will that work?
Wife:Hahaha, my man just caught me laughing really loud!!!! Now what!
Me:Say nothing, your having an epileptic fit! Fake one now!!!
Naturally a couple of minutes later my phone rang and it was him. At first I did try the mugging story but it did not work. I was left with no choice but to tell him the truth. He took the news as well as could be expected. I think I did hurt his feelings a smidge. But hey, he’s a big boy I just hope he doesn’t fuck up my hair the next time I am there for a cut.
So “Straight Eye for the Queer Guy” never came to be. It is sad really because I did love the title. But sitting down staring at a blank page and writing something each week is not for everybody. Sure I sometimes misuse grammar, abuse punctuation and treat spelling like my bitch, but at least you get to read something. It may not always be brilliant and I don’t see any Pulitzer Prizes in my future, but as long as you are reading I will continue writing.
Recent revelations that certain lesbian bloggers weren’t actually lesbians or actually women shocked the gay blogosphere. The shock came after a particular “lesbian” blogger were allegedly kidnapped and it came to light that the “Syrian Lesbian Blogger” was in fact a 40 year old heterosexual dude from America. What the fuck?! It seems he merrily blogged away and nobody questioned the legitimacy of the 25 year old girl’s so called lesbianism and nobody picked up “she” was actually a much older “he”. Well, in the blog readers’ defence it is quite tricky to tell whether the author of a blog has a penis or a vagina by just reading it and faking being gay is evidently quite easy. Now, as I scrutinise the blogs I read more carefully I cannot help but wonder how many other Fake Gay Bloggers are out there.
First of all, I just want to let all my readers know that I am indeed a guy, I am indeed a flaming faggot and if you don’t believe me I have the pictures to prove it. I also don’t have another blog where I pretend to be a straight woman and write about my Sex and the City sex escapades, my vagina logs or my menstrual cycle. Honestly, I don’t know enough of the female anatomy to even try and my lack of knowledge on this subject matter is in direct correlation with my lack of interest in it. Not that I don’t love women, I really do I just don’t want to have sex with women or imagine women naked. Had I pretended to be a straight male blogger I would eventually again run into the vagina problem and writing a blog as a feline would possibly be a much more palatable option and of better substance. But why would anyone want to write a fake blog anyway...
Many times, while writing my blog, I questioned myself whether I should have blogged anonymously and write under a pseudonym. If you use a pseudonym you do not have to be careful and edit what you want to say about your work, friends and/or family. You are free to trash whoever and whatever you want and nobody will know it is you. I read quite a few anonymous blogs and I thoroughly enjoy them mainly due to their unbridled candour. But there is a huge difference between anonymous blogging and fake blogging. At least with anonymous blogging the author still writes about real life references, experiences and people. Fake bloggers create fiction, fabrications and misrepresentations. Simply put they lie to their readers which raises an interesting question – is fake blogging ethical?
Pretending to be gay when you are not and blogging about your fake life, in my opinion, is morally and wrong. Not only is it fiction, it is insulting to the GLBT community and offensive to the readers once the truth is revealed. As a gay blogger I share my real live experiences, my coming out story, my accounts of being bullied, being discriminated against and my run-ins with homophobia. It’s my narrative, it’s my truth, it’s my real life. I share how I overcame adversity, prevailed in the confines of intolerance and embraced acceptance. Some of my readers get comfort from what I share, gain hope for their own futures and are encouraged to find their own paths and be proud of who and what they are. This can’t and should not be achieved based on lies. Bloggers have a responsibility to their readers and far too many authors of blogs don’t take this responsibility seriously.
My blog is not all gay doom and gloom, sex, gay pride parades, glitter balls and disco sticks. Because that is not what being gay in my life is all about. True, I can be construed to be your stereotypical flaming queen or limp wristed queer who loves fanning the flames of my own faggotry. But being gay, in my context, is also about my marriage, my family, work and recently our journey to become parents. My blog represents a portion of the gay community and depicts my journey on this planet, something a fake blog cannot do. My readers share in my battles, laugh with me, cry with me and some of my GLBT brothers and sisters who are yet to come out of the closet can see that being gay does not mean that you cannot have a normal life and have a healthy relationship. These readers are also shown that they do not have to live in the shadow of society hiding from their truth. Every blogger out there have a responsibility to their readers to be honest and add value rather than deceive and depreciate the essence of blogging and your readers’ experience thereof. There’s nothing more disgusting and disturbing than learning that you have been deceived and that the blog you have been reading is based on lies. It’s like cracking a rotten egg into your cake mixture ruining the whole thing. And it stinks!
The fake lesbian bloggers are the rotten eggs of the blogosphere that’s ruining it for the rest of us. Sure it may have seemed fun and a good idea at the time for them to blog as lesbians, but I am sure it’s not as much fun now that they have been thrown out of their virtual heterosexual closets. I’m pretty sure the wives of A Gay Girl in Damascus and Lez Get Real weren’t too pleased either when they learned of their husband’s blogosphere escapades. The only thing these two bloggers achieved was to deceive and outrage. I guess these two fake lesbians learned the lessons I learned years ago the hard way – do not fuck with real lesbians and do not pretend to be something you are not!
During my usual early morning online newspaper perusal I came across an article on CNN that stopped me cold in my tracks. The article was titled “Facebook lets users opt out of facial recognition”. Apparently Facebook is rolling out a facial recognition feature and all of us have already been included in their database. You have a choice to opt out of it, and I am so going to, but opting out will not remove you from their system. If this is shocking to you, it does not even come close to what Google almost did! Although I am a total Social Media Whore, even I have a problem with it! This may sound like something the CIA, MI6 or Mossad may have concocted to track down terrorist, but it is not. However, the principle remains the same. Reflecting on this I could not help but wonder where we are heading and how much privacy we will have once we get there.
As most of you know I am a social media whore: I’m easy, I’m cheap, I give pleasure and I welcome traffic and lots of it! I am all for shameless social media self promotion and if spamming wasn’t a bad thing I would have been the Queen of that too. But with social media making the world more accessible, helping dreary old people like myself become Internet Superstars (well not really), there are also some draw backs. You sacrifice your “anonymity” and just as you like snooping or spying on other people’s profiles to see what they are up too, sleeping with, fighting with or breaking up with, you can be rest assured that the snooping and spying are reciprocated. And now Facebook plans on over exposing us and exploiting our privacy even further.
Facebook’s new facial recognition feature will scan all images posted to Facebook (an estimated 100 million per day) and suggest the names of people appearing in the frame. Even if you opt out of this clear violation of your privacy, the tool will still scan your face and identify you but just won’t display your name. So, if you plan on falling down drunk at a party, posing with that stripper or playing tonsil hockey with a person other than your husband beware. If you’re snapped in a compromising situation you will be identified and tagged for the whole world to see. Personally, I do not allow any likeness of myself to be placed anywhere on the Internet without it being extensively photo shopped. Firstly, because I look so much prettier airbrushed and secondly, I am hardly ever recognized on the street because of my extreme photo editorial tyranny. So naturally this new feature horrifies me but not as much as what Google almost did.
Google almost went one step further with an application they planned on releasing but thankfully didn’t. Recently Google decided not to release an application that would let someone snap a picture of a total stranger’s face, using a Smartphone, in order to find out who that person is. Now why the fuck would you want to do that?And why the hell would I allow a total stranger to snap a picture of me anyway? This clearly wasn’t thought through thoroughly. Imagine walking down the street minding your own business. Then unexpectedly someone, who has been secretly stalking you for months, jumps out of the bushes and snaps a picture of you on his BlackBerry. Confused and before your eyes can readjust from the phone’s flash, the guy is gone and now knows who you are and possibly also will have access to your other personal details. Apart from being wrong, it is fucking scary! But whether we like it or not, if you’re a Social Media Whore like me things will only get worse.
It’s weird to think that just a mere six years ago I didn’t even know what Facebook was. And when I logged on for the first time I thought it was pretty stupid. The same goes for Twitter. Jump to the present day and now I have almost 5000 friends onmy Facebook Profile, just over 6000 fans on my Blog Fan Page, just over 2000 tweeters following@gaywars on Twitter and just over 300 followers on Blogspot. In a mere six years I have gone from John Doe to super Social Media Whore with “Unique Hits”, “Follow”, “Like” and “Share” as my drugs and STD’s of choice. With every update, tweet and blog post I allow my entire international plethora of "Johns" into my life, my private thoughts, my joys, my sorrows and my rants. And I do so voluntarily. Then is it not bigotry of me to have a freak out about a photo application than can tag me in unedited photos of myself?
Well no! The difference is that now I can choose what I share with my readers, followers and friends. The pimps want to change the rules for this Social Media Hooker and I am saying NO! No, no, no! We are heading down a very perilous slippery slope and if we are not careful we will end up having no privacy, no control and this I promise you on my dead MySpace’s profiles grave - it will not end well for us! I am a proud Social Media Whore but even I know where to draw the line. Nice as Facebook, Twitter, Google and Blogger maybe there should be boundaries and we should have a say as to where these boundaries are set. Google before you Tweet may be the new Think before you Speak, but never forget that whatever you write inevitably will be read and, at this rate, soon privacy on the Net will be dead!
Today I received an e-mail from a concerned mother. She wrote to me asking to refrain from cursing on my blog seeing as her child reads it and she didn’t want him exposed to bad language. Appreciative that she took the time to write to me, I must admit my first thought after reading her rather rude request was Sweet Baby Cheeses! She doesn’t want me to curse but it is OK for me to write about gay sex, porn, sometimes post questionable YouTube videos and write about my bowl movements but the odd F bomb is upsetting to her? Sitting back reflecting on my body of work (my blog in its entirety) I couldn’t help but wonder how many other things I have written about which she could have complained about.
I must admit that I have a bit of a potty mouth, but in my defence not even 1% of the profanities that leave my mouth on a daily basis make it onto my blog. Furthermore, my mind often goes to strange places and I have to edit certain topics to make them consumable for my readers and prevent them from having to endure endless hours of therapy and/or to suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. So, when the odd F bomb, sheit, bieach, bulltwang, son-of-a gun, mother folker and ahole are used they are carefully selected and used in moderation. After all I am no angel and this is a personal blog, which some may say is for a niche market, and I don’t write about puppies, butterflies and/or freaking garden gnomes. I write about Fairies and as my favourite haters, the Phelps family, so eloquently and frequently Tweet me – my ”depraved” lifestyle!
So when the mother wrote to me about the seven curse words I used (and I checked, there are only seven to date), I was puzzled. Firstly, I wondered whether her child is gay. If so, I have to commend her on good parenting and for allowing her child to read my blog. Secondly, I wondered how old her child is as I am thoroughly aware that some of my blog’s content is not appropriate for children under the age of 13. But I neglected to write her back to ask, so it will remain a mystery. Furthermore, I wondered whether she had a progressive parenting style and only drew the limit of her leniency at cursing, which I would find odd. After all I have written many things that have seriously pissed people off and shocked others in the past and found it queer that she did not complain about that?
Does the fact that I have regularly trashed the Catholic Church, the Pope and even went as far as to attack certain Christians not bother her? I have also written many articles about pornography, sex and, what disturbs me to this day, fetish porn such as Clown Porn. But no, according to her, my cursing is far more offensive. With this in mind I was now thoroughly perplexed. I found myself asking whether being reprimanded by a total stranger about my bad language should encourage me to stop cursing? On the one hand I do care what my readers think and I don’t want to corrupt an innocent child’s vocabulary and worse corrupt his mind. But on the other hand I want to stay true to myself and not have to excessively edit myself and/or my thoughts. So after much introspection, verbal diarrhea and deliberation with all my different personalities I came to a considered and profound decision.
NO, I will not stop fucking cursing!!! I have far more important things to worry about and areas that I can work on other than the use of the odd damn curse word. Things like my atrocious grammar, obsession with commas and semi colons and spelling mistakes. My bloody grammar should be a far greater concern than my cursing don’t you think? I’m also convinced that having children exposed to bad grammar will have far greater and longer lasting negative effect than learning a few colourful words; the latter of which, I may add, are very useful in a great many circumstances!
So this is how it’s going to be concerned mother. I will continue cursing, in moderation, and promise not let my whole repertoire of swear words rip in one blog post – I will evenly spread them across future blog posts. Concerned mother, I apologize in advance, graciously decline your request and thank you for your e-mail. My advice to you would be to buy a swearing bin and not a tin for your kid. That way you can punish him for cursing, charge him $1 for every word and make some cash out of it in the process too! This way everyone wins! I just hope your son is not a 40 year old looser and that you guys don’t have a Psycho Norman Bates situation going on over there. In which case it was nice knowing you and in the bigger scheme of things you have allot more to trouble your pretty little head about than my fucking blog!
The celebrity gossip blogger Perez Hilton can easily be described as the most hated blogger in Hollywood. Having outed many gay celebrities, calling others less than flattering nicknames and hanging celebrities' dirty laundry out on the Internet, it is understandable that he was being viewed as a bully! But in light of the spate of recent gay teen suicides due to bullying he professes to have had an epiphany and now wants to change. He recently went on the Ellen show to apologize. Now the question on everybody's lips is - Can a leopard really change its spots? Watch his interview on Ellen and his Youtube video that he posted to Demi Moore's Twitter account and decide for yourself.
Perez Hilton on the Ellen DeGeneres show (Full Interview)
Perez Hilton - I'm Going To Be Doing Things Differently
Be careful what you wish for. This is something I learned the hard way this past weekend. After complaining on Friday that my life is boring, I had no idea how ominous that statement would turn out to be. You see I started off my weekend, on Friday afternoon, rather peaceful and completely oblivious as to what was to come. Then at roughly at 5pm my weekend took a turn for the worst. During the last 72 hours I had to endure an influx of hate mails, my blog was deleted, then almost hacked and to top it all off, hubby and I witnessed a friend have an car accident.
Entering the long weekend I was rather hopeful for a quiet, relaxing and revitalizing time. Arriving home, Friday afternoon I decided to unwind with some therapeutic gardening work. After the flowers were watered, the hedges trimmed and the weeds pulled, I decided to have a quick look at my blog and to check my e-mails (something I usually do twice a day). Opening my e-mail I was delighted to see that there were 28 e-mails downloading. With the first couple of mails showing in my inbox I was rather intrigued with their subject lines “Go to hell fag”, “Turn or burn”, “God hates queers”, “You’re sick and depraved”, “Filth of humanity”, “Hope you get Aids and die” and “If I find you I’ll kill you” to mention but just a few.
As the e-mails downloaded and I perused the subject lines I didn’t need to be a brain surgeon to realize they were hate mails, or so I thought. Normally I quite enjoy receiving them as they can be entertaining as hell (excuse the pun) to read. As I opened the first couple I was disappointed to discover that the content was exactly the same – Bible verses wrapped nicely together with angry words. My excitement at reading the insulting subject lines, hoping for some new and creative diatribe was soon replaced with boredom and disinterest. This was not hate mail, this was hate spam! “How utterly rude!” I thought. If you want to send someone hate mail the least you can do is make an effort and generate your own content! Well over 50 hate spams later, being irritated, I decided to respond via my blog. By midnight the hate spam eventually stopped totaling 135. An eerie silence followed.
Saturday morning I checked my e-mail and no hate spam. Relieved at the thought of whoever was behind hate spamming me lost interest, I continued with my day. At around 4pm, I was due for a heart stopping shock. Trying to access my blog, the words no blogger ever wants to see appeared on my plasma screen THE BLOG YOUR TRYING TO ACCESS HAVE BEEN DELETED! Sure that this must be a mistake I refreshed the page and in a different window tried opening it again. The same message appeared in both windows. My heart sank and it felt like someone punched me in my stomach. It felt like I was going to pass out, then I realized I wasn’t breathing. “Oh my God! 20 months worth of articles are gone! What the fuck am I going to do?! I can’t start over!!! What the fuck!!!!!!!!!!”
It’s not easy to operate a computer that just gave you horrific news while hyperventilating. In full crisis management and disaster mode I frantically clicked away while my mind was racing with questions that were hurting my brain. I eventually accessed my Google account and received another shocker. My account was suspended due to suspicious activity and my account had to be verified which I did. As I clicked on Blogger, with bated breath I was praying to be successfully diverted to my blog dashboard which would signal that my blog had been recovered. It was an agonizing 5 seconds and the relieve I felt when the webpage finally opened was indescribable. However, my relief soon turned to anger as I was asking myself, who or what almost destroyed my blog. Was this a glitch or was it the work of the hate spammers? I still don’t know.
With a disaster averted hubby and I decided to go out for a night on the town. I needed to forget about the hate spam, the cyber terrorist attack and just needed to go and have fun. We went to a relatively new gay bar not for from our house. The bar was fairly quiet for a Saturday night and I wasn’t expecting to necessarily bump into anyone I knew but I did. As we were heading to order drinks I saw an old friend sitting at a table. I had take a double take, as I haven’t seen him in just over a year and he gained a few pounds, but was looking good nonetheless. We did some catching up, some dancing and we were having a gay old time. Eventually we decided to go to another club nearby which hubby and I also have never been to. We left the bar, got into our cars and we followed our friend.
Almost at our destination, our evening of laughter abruptly came to halt. As our friend was turning into the parking area a woman driving at a fairly fast speed skipped a stop street and crashed into him. I was in total disbelieve watching this happen and it took me a few seconds to get over the shock. We immediately pulled to the side of the road and I rushed over to my friend’s car to check if he was ok. He was in shock but luckily not injured. His car wasn’t that fortunate and was a total right off. As the passengers from the other wrecked car freed themselves, police and emergency workers were arriving at the accident scene. We were there for what felt like hours. At roughly 1am the accident scene was finally cleared and we drove our friend home. On our way to his apartment there was silence in the car. We were all tired and shocked at how our evening had ended. The silence was eventually broken with our friend mumbling “And it’s my birthday today” and I responded with the only words that came to mind “Happy birthday, you sure have started you year with a bang!”
Yes, be careful what you wish for. This weekend I wanted some excitement and wasn’t prepared for what I got. Hate spam, almost losing my blog and a terrible car accident was not on my planned itinerary, but like the saying goes “all’s well that ends well”. The hate spam once more reminded that I am probably doing something right with my blog, having my blog deleted for 4 hours reminded me why having a backup is so all important, and finally my friend’s car accident reminded of how quick an accident can happen and the importance of friends in my life.
Till next time.
Sam Harris takes a gay walk down Lesbian Lane comedy routine
Yes, it’s that time of year again. The most glamorous non-televised, non-publicized and largely unknown event of the year. And if you’re not a Blogger, or more specifically a South African Blogger, chances are good you have never heard of it and don’t really care. Yes, it’s time for the 2010 SA Blogger Awards. It’s like the Oscars of the Intrawebs but only without the glitz, the glamour, the gift packs and the celebrities. OK… so it’s nothing like the Oscars, not even close.
As some of my loyal readers know, last year I made it to the finals of the 2009 SA Blog Awards in the GLBT Category. And no, I didn’t win (sigh). This year the GLBT category is no more (double sigh), but this does not preclude me from entering (victorious scream). There are many other categories this queer blog of mine could kick ass in (and in a good way).
So my queers and queer lovers, if you have nothing to do for a couple of minutes, nominate this faggy blog. All your little gay fingers have to do is click on the link below, Ctrl C & Ctrl V my blog url (gaywarfare.blogspot.com/) into the nomination section, select the categories you want to see our gay flame shine in, submit & verify. Let’s kick some hetero blogs' asses!
PS: If you have a favorite article you can nominate that too. Now get clicking!
My first thought when my husband suggested i start one was "what the fuck have you been smoking?!" No one on the net would want to read what I have to say. Then I had a couple glasses of wine and the idea didn't seem as stupid or daunting, after all alcohol does give one courage to attempt all thing against better judgment. Then when the buzz of the alcohol really kicked in the idea seemed even better, because why should I only bore him with my rantings and ravings if I can do it with so many more people out there, and also bore them into a second rate non Valium induced coma. So here goes, my first blog entry.
I just returned from a very nice and relaxing holiday, or rather the week at the beach was the nice and relaxing part - before that was xmas and family and all the drama and family stress that goes along with it (if you have ever cooked a turkey and had one unsavoury family member you wish would have been dead by now you would know what I mean).
I planned my holiday in such a way that I could get the family part out of the way first because:
1) I am married so hence there are two families to keep happy;
2) My family is dysfunctional but I love my sister and she had her second child on 15 December 2008, so I kinda knew that this part of the family would be little effort as new baby equals "low key: get the family out of my house by 10pm";
3) My father is screwed up and I knew he and my codependent psychopath stepmother would try and fuck xmas up for all of us, so I had to be prepared for that drama;
4) My in-laws, who I also love to bits, are very big on xmas and it is always a production. With production, i mean you need staff and a project manager to coordinate the "event"!!!
Xmas went of as planned. We left my sister's house at 21:40 and everything before that was very pleasant and we all had a fabulous time. As expected my stepmother did phone me two days before xmas and tried her usual demonic psychodrama on me, but due to me being hung over, from the night before, I lacked the attention span to be adequately affected. The Xmas extravaganza at the in-laws was a major success, apart from my sister-in-laws desert that bombed - i am sure she cried herself to sleep, as my turkey was fucking amazing!!!!!
My beach holiday was relaxing. Mother nature was not as kind as she should have been, but we made the most of the days of sunshine we had which we spend on the beach, sunbathing and swimming. I love the ocean. It one of the places that makes me feel safe and at peace. Watching the waves role in, hearing them brake on the shore, feeling the cool mist on my face and the smell of the sea puts my sole to rest.
It funny how you never quite put much thought into what goes on under the water. The last day we spent at the beach I had a little diving accident. I was diving underneath a wave a scraped off the top layer of skin of my noose. I didn't realize this until my husband pointed out to me that it was bleeding. Now I am standing shoulder deep in the sea, where I know there are quite a few sharks not so far off shore, and I I'm bleeding. I kicked into drama queen mode, still trying to keep my composure. In my mind I was bleeding profusely (actually it was less than one drop of blood squeezing it's way through not so baldy damaged skin). All the National Geographic shark attack programs plays through my head and the only thing I can remember is - sharks can smell a drop of blood from miles away!
I need to get out of here!!!!
I spot at least five people in close proximity and calculate my chances of getting out of the water alive at 80%, as they are all fatter than me and I am convinced a shark would go for a victim with more meat. Not trying to look as if i am freaking out I gracefully try and swim towards shore. I use the excuse to my husband that I am cold and think it's time to get out. He looks at me (I know he knows my real motive and he can see me trying to conceal my panic) but the gentle sole he is he agrees and we make it safely to sore all limbs in tact.
New years eve we decide to go to the only gay club in the town we are spending our holiday. Going to a dodgy gay club beats sitting in an apartment listening to fireworks and hearing other people get drunk and having good, don't you think?
We arrive at the club and I swear it's no bigger than our apartment at home. All the people look weird! For a few hours we weren't even sure it was a gay club. We had a few drinks and settled into this queer setup and I figured things out - all these people were bisexual (or at least that's their cover story). The biggest queens were there with their "girlfriends" who in a few years will become their fag hags and the butch guys were on the prowl for "straight girls". What a load of bullshit! Most of the butch guys there will end up being nelly bottoms eventually! The whole night my husband and I were the only gay people there who ever made any physical contact with each other. It felt like Mormon bazaar.
As we left there at 4am in the morning I had a strange sense of sadness for all the regular patrons of that dreadful establishment as I asked my myself the question "How the hell does any gay person ever get laid in a place like that?"
Having survived xmas and new years eve, I look towards 2009 with a cautious optimism. If have made it this far in 31 years and I sure as hell can make it through 2009. There will be highs and there will be lows, and I am sure to share it with all who read this blog.
