Personality Whores

This classic is dedicate to The Bitchy Waiter.

Reading about Steven Slater’s (JetBlue Flight Steward) recent dramatic resignation from his illustrious 28 year career I couldn’t help but giggle and secretly admire his bravery. Not many queens would have the courage to throw their tiaras, dildo’s and KY out of their baskets, deploy the airplanes inflatable emergency chute, grab their luggage and two beers before dramatically exiting bidding adieu to almost 3 decades of rude and difficult passengers. Having been in the service industry myself once, I can honestly say I understand why “Mrs” Slater flipped her lid and this made me reflect back on my days as a personality whore.

Many moons ago I too worked as a waiter. I was serving mediocre food in a main stream steak and grill mostly frequented by straight folk. It didn’t take long before it dawned on me that I wasn’t a very good waiter. One day, after being thrown with a handful of french-fries by a two year old the thought “Maybe I’m not meant to serve, I am destined to be served” crossed my mind. However, it would be many years before that reality would realize.

During my stint at the straight meat dispensary I had to deal with many difficult, rude and generally bad tipping customers. The one I recall most vividly ordered a rump steak extra rare. As I was placing his almost still alive and bleeding piece of meat in front him he had the audacity to tell me it was over cooked. After I politely tried to explain to him the difference between a restaurant and a butchery he ordered me (yes ordered me!) to bring him a correctly cooked steak. It having been at the end of a particularly trying and poorly paying shift, I did the only thing I could think off. I took the bastard’s plate, went to the grill asked for a 500g piece of raw rump steak, placed it on his plate and took it back to him and said “Extra rare, just like you asked for sweetie”. Needless to say the man had a hissy fit and got my ass fired!

Having had it confirmed that I was a truly bad waiter I did the only thing I gay guy could do. I looked for a gig at a gay bar or restaurant. You see at gay bars/restaurants you expect to get bad service but that’s OK only if the waiter or bartender is hot, cute or funny. You see at gay bars/restaurants it’s all about the looks and personality and less about the actual service, food and watered down drink. Believing that I could fit the bill I decided to become a personality whore and promptly got a job at relatively upmarket gay restaurant/bar.

The place was called The Lounge and it was run by two lesbians who ran their business like Nazi Concentration Camp Sergeants. We were a small compliment of staff: Two kitchen staff, a GI Jane lesbian and 5 femme fags. We were an eccentric bunch who always made work fun and there were never a dull moment. On my first day at work I arrived at the venue 20 minutes before opening time. As I got dressed in my “uniform”, a very tight fitting T-shirt branded with their logo and even tighter leather pants (later aptly dubbed the money maker), I was called aside by the sergeants.

In a very serious and rather abrasive voice one said “Before we let you lose in this queer zoo, let us explain the rules”. I knew all places had “rules”, but wasn’t quite prepared for the ones that would be laid on me. “You are to flirt with every customer no matter what they look like, you are to learn every regular’s name, you are allowed to accept shooters from customers and drink it only if they ordered one for themselves too! Sitting on customers laps are allowed, kissing, grabbing and exposing yourself is not!“ With the rules thoroughly explained I affirmed I understood. Sergeant 2 then added “If the Lesbos start a fight let them finish it, if there are broken glass or bottles involved call GI Jane , and never, ever look a drunk angry lesbian in the eyes, just back away slowly!”

As my first evening was coming to an end the drunken lesbian rule was tested. A very butch and very inebriated lesbian staggered towards me. “You’re new here aren’t you?” Avoiding all eye contact, as I was told, I stared at her biker boots and responded with a quivering voice “Yes, I started today”. She responded “You’re cute” and with that she pushed me against the wall and stuck her rum tasting tongue down my oesophagus. At the verge of suffocating GI Jane intervened, grabbed her by the shoulders peeled her off me and screamed “He’s a fucking femme fag not a femme dyke you dumb drunken clit!” Relieved that I wasn’t going to get raped with a strap-on dildo I escaped to the safety of the kitchen. With sore feet, the taste of lesbian in my mouth and clothes smelling of beer, tequila, vodka, nachos and smoke, my first evening as I personality whore drew to a close, and I kind of liked it!

Working at the gay bar was loads of fun, most of the time; however it also had its drawbacks. Apart from being employed by two cold hearted bitches who worked us like Taipei red-light district whores, I also had many not so pleasant experiences with patrons. You see having to flirt with every customer has many annoying disadvantages. Firstly, many believe that they have a chance to have sex with you and as they become drunk their advances becomes less subtle and more inappropriate.

Secondly, as the word spread about the cute and friendly boy waiters at the bar, all the weirdos, creeps and freaks pitched up. A colleague and I was once offered $2000 each if a guy in his 80’s could watch us have sex, I was offered several roles in gay porn, offered money to have a threesome with a couple (bisexual man and woman) and also offered a Rolex for sex – needless to say I declined all! During my 6 month stint as a personality whore I also received the strangest tips. I was tipped with ecstasy tablets, cocaine, a lottery ticket, monopoly money, a poky man, clothing vouchers, many telephone numbers with sexy messages and once a guy even tried to slip me a roofie in a shooter all of which I declined with a polite smile simply stating “I’d actually prefer cash”.

Many evenings after we closed the bar we had laughs about the tips, the customers and the bizarre propositions we received. We often times spent chatting until the early hours of the morning laughing until our stomachs hurt. The 6 months I worked as a personality whore was both the best and the worst time I ever had in any part-time employment during my student days. I even coined the phrase “Do you want head with that?” for anybody that ordered a beer (referring to the froth off course). A phrase that would most likely get you fired in most straight bars and is the most suitable epitaph for my career as a waiter.

Working in the service industry can be challenging. Most of the time it’s a thankless job and with your worth being determined by the clients’ tips. I struggle to imagine how people can be in such an industry for decades and remain sane, I suspect there are many people like Steven Slater out there, but only a few that would have the guts to do what he did. I only lasted 6 months and due to my experience I am always nice to waiters, always tip generously as I know what they are going through. I take my hat off to all the waiters, bartenders and flight crew out there. Thanks for serving us and not spitting in our drinks!

Till next time.

Hedda Lettuce - lady gaga "Bad Romance" Parody

Why don’t you sleep with lesbians?

Another classic and the last in my series of republished posts.

Being an openly gay man working with conservative heterosexual males has interesting consequences, especially if the working environment is traditionally associated with butch, straight hardcore men. My dress sense, hair style, general demeanour and referring to “my husband” is but a few things that makes them fretful. I sometimes feel that if I change anything about my appearance I should try and ease my colleagues into the transition, because any drastic changes would cause their worlds to collapse into a frenzy of confusion and distress. Having a gay man mixed in with a group of straight guys has a tendency to let their neuroses surface, as their masculinity is threatened and they question themselves on their own effeminate traits they discover.

My first day at the office, one of the older gentleman almost had aneurysm: At that stage I had a mo-hog hairstyle and the poor soul had learned just minutes earlier that I was married to a man, that was just too much for the 63 year old man to fathom! Another colleague thought I was a suspect in the illicit drug trade and believed I was brought in for questioning, as I was sitting right in the middle of two fairly large ex police officers. Then there were those who were in denial and stayed in denial for a long time.

It took months for the men to adjust to this new addition to their group that they found queer, threatening and enigmatic. Months passed and they came to understand that I am not so different from them, apart from the fact that I prefer sleeping with men, have a better fashion sense, pay significantly more for a hair cut and have peculiar grooming habits. They relaxed more around me and even ventured into asking selective questions: "Who’s the man in your relationship?" "Have you ever slept with a woman?" "Doesn’t it hurt having sex?" "Do you guys wear dresses?" "When did you decide that you were gay?" …etc, but the pièce de résistance was “So if you are gay why don’t you sleep with lesbians?”

In a predominantly straight working environment one must also always be on the alert for the closeted homophobes. They are the ignorant ones that discriminate against you behind your back. They are too afraid to air their views or directly confront you. Sometimes I firmly think they believe homosexuality is contagious and can spread like the black plague. The outright homophobes are easier to deal with as one confrontation usually will stifle them. My personal favourite tactic in dealing with all homophobe is to be extra flirtatious, it’s cruel I know. I get a sadistic pleasure from the fear they have of me getting into their pants and their associated mental pictures, this usually is enough to keep them at bay for months at a time.

One morning I received a phone call from a colleague who sounded distressed. I was told he just arrived at work and forgot to put jell in his hair. He knew of nobody else to call without being embarrassed apart from me, and asked if I can bring some to work. That was the first day I realized that my “gayness” was having a positive influence on my co-workers. The change was so subtle that I almost missed it. The rest of that day I had a critical look around me. Most colleagues started using hair products, the colour of their belts matched their shoes and conservative ties were replaced with modern colours and a few even risked wearing pink. I was left wondering, are my colleagues turning into meterosexual men or have they just discovered that the world is not as limiting as they once thought? Have my presence enlighten them to be freer?

Being the only gay man at my office, I do not particularly feel that I have something to prove. I prefer to educate by example, and show through skill and action that gays can do any job as well if not better as straight people. I do fit into some stereotypes straight people have of gays, but I am not ashamed nor am I apologetic of it. I am who and what I am, being gay is apart of me, but it does not define who I am.

Till next time.

"My Turn" by Yehonathan
www.yehonathan.com

Y2Gay - It's Coming!

We all remember how bad Y2K was. Well reinforce your doors and stock your cupboards, because it's happening all over again. Get down to your bunker and prepare yourself for Y2GAY.

God Hates Fags and now Hackers Too?

A recent article published on Queerty titled "Westboro Responds To Anonymous: God Hates Fags, And Hackers Now Too!" reminded me of this article I wrote about this psychotic bunch of inbreds.  Seeing as I am going in for my operation this week and consequently won't be of much use in front of the computer I decided to republish it.  There are some truly crazy people out there in the world, but the Phelps Family takes the cherry on top of the crazy cake!

The Westboro Baptist Church (WBC) and their official website http://www.godhatesfags.com/ have been known to me for some time. It wasn’t until recently that their website and the hatred they preach awakened the activist in me. I decided to send them a message through their website and their response was reflective of their delusional and fanatical rhetoric which I found shocking as they clearly have lost the plot. After doing some research on the Church and their leader Fred Phelps, I was left wondering why anti-gay propaganda and violence inspiring hate speech are still allowed in the USA and for that matter anywhere else in the world.
Fred Phelps and his family have been running their “Church” since 1955. Both Fred and the rest of his family have quite a dodgy past with several criminal charges filed against them. Their church consists of approximately 71 members with 80% of the members being the Phelps family. They have taken it upon themselves to preach the “Word of God” to the world and according to them everyone is going to hell! God hates everyone including several countries but especially “Faggots” and “Fag-Enablers” (people who support homosexuals). They favour the word “Faggot” over the word “Gay” and have a long explanation on their website on this issue. They also come armed with several bible texts to support their claim. They also picket military funerals, funerals of people who have died of AIDS or gay bashings and religious event of Jews and Muslims. At all these events they carry signs reading God Hates Fags, Death Penalty for Fags, Your Son’s in Hell, God Hates America, Thank God for 9/11 and I could go on. After reading some of the tripe written on their website, I must admit I did look out my window searching for rain clouds as I was sure God was going to strike me dead with lightning because, according to them, I am such an abomination and sinner and God really hates me and his wrath could befall me any second!
The most entertaining of the bunch is Shirley Phelps-Roper who is the official spokes person for their loony family church. Watching interviews with her she displays a distinct lack of fashion, fear of hair product and make-up – maybe God hates cosmetic products as well. She looks as frightening as the words she spits from her mouth. She speaks with conviction of how God hates everybody and I also noticed she likes using the words “missy” and “bimbo” quite frequently in interviews. This makes her sound like the bible study teacher from hell! Looking like a scary witch I would love to see her go one-on-one with a Drag Queen discussion the issue of sodomy. I can just picture the head bobbing, finger waving and hilarious statements, references and rebuttals; I would pay good money to be a spectator as someone definitely will physically get hurt by the Old Testament.
The next generation of the Phelps family is just as scary and crazy. They too have the Paris and Nicky Hiltons in the Phelps family. The 2 blonds (whose names I will not mention) most certainly isn’t very bright and their education stems mostly from their cult like family upbringing. They disguise their festering hatred towards everything Non-Phelps behind peroxide, makeup and cute Hilton inspired outfits – maybe they should give Aunt Shirley some fashion and beauty tips if God allows it. The frightening things is Fred Phelps is turning 90, admittedly he will not live very long but his legacy and preaching of hatred will continue through his indoctrinated off spring. His voice will still be heard from beyond the grave whether he’s in heaven or in hell. According to him hell is going to be very congested so if he ends up there I hope he made reservations.

I firmly believe that all people should have freedom of speech but the line can easily be crossed as we have seen so many times before. Clearly, in my opinion, the WBC and the Phelps family are raping their freedom of speech and they are spreading hate speech. They are specifically targeting the homosexual community and innocent people who do not deserve to be disrespected at their own funerals. The Phelps family is causing harm and emotional distress to people who have done nothing wrong and they should be stopped. The United Kingdom is one country, I am aware off, that has banned the Phelps family from entering it. At least their citizens are safe until they go on the Internet.

If what the Phelps family and the WBC are saying is true we are all condemned to hell, and now hackers are too and most countries are doomed. Hell will be bursting from it seems with all the Homosexuals, Jews, Muslims, Black People, Soldiers and the list goes on. Not being partial to excessively warm temperatures and with no bursting desire to meet Lucifer I would prefer to stay out of hell. In the real world where people talk sense, are rational and can distinguish between right and wrong, I will do whatever I can to help the fight against the WBC and the Phelps family. I will fully support people and groups who protest against their delusional cult like tactic, tripe they spew and lies they spread. I hope you join me in this endeavour. It only takes one person to make a difference, let that one person be you!
Till next time!


Shirley Phelps-Roper on Fox News

What Don’t You Like About Yourself?

In a week’s time I will be going under the knife and I am slightly nervous. You see I am getting minor elective surgery meaning that it’s not in the true medical sense “necessary” but for me it is and not because it is simply considered “de rigueur”. It’s something that has been bothering me now for years, has been getting progressively worse over time and is, to some degree, adversely affecting my self-esteem. On the eve, so to speak, of not only getting braces I’m also getting plastic surgery and now having publicly announced it, I couldn’t help but wonder why some people still view cosmetic surgery as a taboo and why people lie about it? Is it something to be ashamed off?

My loyal readers (all 10 of you) know that I started with Botox when I turned 30. It was a conscious decision I made and one I am happy with. Sure my ability to frown or look sufficiently surprised have been traded for a smooth brow with visibly absent frown lines and wrinkles; a low price to pay to keep the signs of ageing at bay as certain facial expressions are highly overrated anyway. Some may view this as vanity but I call it proactive maintenance. But for many years (the last 8 to be exact) there have been something that troubled me, something I managed to efficiently hide with the right products, sunglasses and Photoshop until recently. A month ago I decided that I had enough and made the choice to have the dark fatigue trenches under my eyes removed, surgically and permanently!

Again you may call this vanity, but allow me to explain. Twice during the last 3 years I have been asked whether somebody punched me – my dark circles under my eyes have become that bad! Until about a year ago I managed to conceal 80% of it with my special Yves Saint Laurent magic makeup combo. But I have now reached the point where trying to cover up my raccoon eyes takes me longer than shaving, getting dressed and doing my hair combined and with all that effort I now only manage to conceal about 30%.  I know I am not hideous looking but I am becoming increasingly self-conscious about it so I discussed the matter with my doctor during my last Botox treatment and she suggested surgery. Other treatments she could offer would only be temporary and the results would proof lacking to meet my expectations. So it was off to the plastic surgeon’s office.

Sitting at the cosmetic surgeon’s immaculate reception room surrounded by pictures of Grace Kelly, Mae West and Audrey Hepburn, I looked around me at the other prospective patients wondering what they wanted to have nipped, tucked or enlarged. I’m sure they were wondering the same looking at me. Eventually, my turn came and I expected the surgeon’s opening line to be “So what don’t you like about yourself?” a question I could have easily answered both literally and psychoanalytically. But he didn’t ask. Instead, I explained to him I wanted the circles under my eyes erased from my face, he listened attentively and then ushered me into the examination room where he pulled, pressed and stretched my lower eye lids while I was nervously holding a mirror in one hand. At the end of the examination we returned to his office and he proceeded to explain how this miracle surgery would occur.

The circles under my eyes are due to fat glands pressing on the veins under my eyes and this is causing blood to accumulate resulting in its dark appearance. The grotesque effect is further exacerbated by loose skin. The fix, cut out the fat glands and tighten the skin. The catch, the procedure will take 60 to 90 minutes and will be done while I am awake! I will be connected to a drip and administrated a drug called Dormican and then given a local aesthetic. The Dormican will make me sleepy, relaxed and erase all memory of the procedure and when I eventually come too, I will be safely nuzzled in my own bed at home. It sounds freaky I know, but as I was explained this method is becoming more popular for this type of procedure as well as liposuction, nose jobs and a few other surgeries as it’s less traumatic on your body, recovery time is quicker and coincidentally it’s also cheaper. So convinced that if other people have made it through having their eyelids cut open while semi-conscious, didn’t go crazy or sued him (I Googled and Hello Peter’d him after the consultation), I would be fine too. So I scheduled my nip and tuck for next week Wednesday, I have made peace with the fact that it’s going to happen, but I am still shit scared.

Not many people will readily admit getting Botox or are open about getting cosmetic surgery. Writing this blog post I’m also not convinced I’m doing the right thing to so publicly admitting to what I’m planning on having done. But I decided to be open and honest about it. Why start lying to my readers now? The worst that can happen is that people will think I’m vain, superficial, self-obsessed, narcissistic and preoccupied with my appearance and they’d be right, to some degree, all bloggers are some of these things that’s why we blog after all. But in all honesty, I believe that if you don’t like something about yourself, if there is something you can fix that will make you feel better, then why not do something about it? I am going to; I’m not going to lie about it and I will not be ashamed of it. After all I’m doing this for myself with realistic expectations. I’m not expecting a 100% improvement; at this point I’ll be happy with 50%.

Queer Mating Rituals of Heterosexuals

With Swine Flue threatening global health I am also convinced that a more ominous virus is threatening society and especially my social circle. Many of my friends recently ended their relationships and this is starting to feel like a pandemic on its own with the unexpected revelation of a couple of pigs amongst us! Having more single friends now, the majority of which being straight, I have become privy to their queer mating rituals. This left me with an interesting conundrum: Are the mating rituals of heterosexuals and homosexuals so different?All 3 respective breakups were quite traumatic and one theatrical. My male friend’s girl friend broke up with him because he wanted to get married and she wasn’t ready. For some odd reason she changed her mind shortly after and now wants him back; maybe she realized what she lost, but alas it’s too late to reconcile and he’s keeping his sperm for someone else. My female friend learned that her fiancé was cheating on her via a Facebook message and consequent phone call from his mistress - what a horrific way to learn of your partner’s infidelity! Naturally she was devastated and the breakup was vicious! The most recent breakup was another of my female friends whose boyfriend of 2 years and 5 months (she was very specific about the duration) ended their relationship over the phone without any substantial reason. It came as blow to her and she cried for a few days but with the help of a couple of magic prescription pills she has returned to semi-normal functioning. All of them displayed fleeting homicidal tendencies and revengeful thoughts towards their ex’s and with the exception of 1; I firmly believe that their ex’s safely will make it to their next birthdays.
Observing my 3 heterosexual friends enjoying their new found freedom, their mating rituals have become a matter of particular interest. I have noticed that when straight people become single their social life escalates into a frenzied diary of dinners, clubbing, events and drinks - not much unlike that of gay people. The consumption of alcohol also increases substantially! All, in my opinion, to abolish the painful memory and to maybe meet new people that will help them transition into the becoming again who they where before their hearts were ripped out of their chests and trampled on. However, unlike gay people straight people appear to have a peculiar way of selecting their potential mates. I think this is where natural selection comes in – after all heterosexuals have the added burden of having to procreate to sustain the species! It appears as subconsciously, potential mates are ruled out by a process of elimination prescribed by the flaws they exhibit similar to those with whom the hunting heterosexual have had a previous unfortunate encounter. If any potential mate show any sign of weakness, the words “let’s just be friends” will be uttered. I was also surprised to learn that unlike some gay people heterosexuals are also far less promiscuous when forced into the single life – they rather tend to use the promise of sex as a lure to test the potential mate’s persistence and tenacity. Only after they are satisfied of the potential mate's commitment sex will occur and if it’s bad that too can be the death of a potential relationship.
When surviving a breakup most people tend to swear off relationships, as the wounds are still too fresh. This holds true in both the gay and straight community. There is also always the fear that lurks like a shadow behind you of getting hurt again. So both straight and gay people surround themselves with friends and keep socially active. With straight woman I have discovered they are more flirtatious during this stage following a break up maybe due to the need to be wanted and found attractive, but as soon as too much attention comes their way an Ice Queen emerges and the potential suitor are in danger of frostbite. With straight guys the predatory instinct kicks in and testosterone goes into over drive. Spending more time with their straight single buddies reinforces this. However, after a few rejections the guys will go back to being dejected and become overly cautious bordering on shy as not only are their ego’s bruised but similar to their female counterparts their desire to be wanted and found attractive is also not met. So I deduce that heterosexual men and women’s timing must be perfect for a relationship to occur, hence to term coined chemistry! If the man is too early he will face the cold shoulder and if the woman is too aloof she will end up a spinster. But when the timing is just right and both are ready for it chemistry occurs and magic happens!

The mating ritual of homosexuals and heterosexuals are not so different. In many respects a broken heart is a broken heart no matter what your sexual preference. The pain of a breakup is the same and much behaviour following the breakup coincides. The fundamental difference lies in the obvious - the fact that in the gay community we may find it easier to understand our potential mates as we are from the same gender and our approach to potential relationships progress in an easier fashion. With heterosexual the mating dance is more intricate, prolonged and fraught with caution. But the homosexual community need our straight friends to never give up on their pursuit to find a mate and never give up on relationships no matter how badly their hearts have been broken. Time really heals all wounds! So it’s imperative that all my heterosexual friends never loose hope of finding that special person because until homosexuals find the means to naturally procreate, and believe me we try, technology and heterosexuals are our only means to our continued survival!

Till next time.

Margaret Cho - Gay Men Jokes

Born This Way

Lady Gaga's much anticipated single Born This Way was released today. Have a listen and tell me what you think. Is this the new Official Gay Anthem?

You can't make stuff like this up!

Sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction and nowhere else is this truer than in African politics. Africa is a queer and remarkable continent where its politicians continuously find ingenious ways to make us regular folks sit back and wonder what the hell they have been smoking. This week was no different as some newspaper articles had me laughing so hard I momentarily lost bladder control and others made me question whether God really has favourites when it comes to political parties. You cannot make this shit up, so sit back and be prepared to be astonished.

Malawi (you know that little speck on the African continent made famous by the Queen of Pop for adopting a new fashion accessory who then ended up not being an orphan after all) is about to approve new legislation that will make farting in public illegal. Yes, braking wind in public will result in you getting a criminal record and could even see you getting some jail time. Also to be made illegal by this new legislation are the serious criminal acts of impersonating a fortune teller, insulting the modesty of a woman, challenging someone to a duel and trespassing on a burial place. All serious and legitimate violations and acts only demonstrated by the most diabolical of criminal minds and the most vicious of delinquent offenders.

Yes, I can see how the discourteous act of farting in public can lead to societal moral collapse. After all bodily functions are the source of all the great evils in the world and are something any educated nation knows should be controlled by governmental legislation. Here is a country that’s got their priorities straight, a nation that stands for clean air, support their real soothsayers, respect women and sacred places and a country that encourages straightforward murder rather than a protracted boring dual. What a breath of fresh air that is, but how on earth are they going to enforce this?

If you are arrested for farting will there be a trial, how will it be proven and how much reliance will be placed on forensic evidence? Will there be harsher punishments for louder fowler farts and will there be mitigating circumstances or instances of aggravating considerations? Who knows, I guess we will have to wait and see for Malawi versus Farting Offender #01, and I hope it’s not you!

Closer to home the South African President during a political rally over the weekend was quoted as saying voting for the ruling party (African National Congress – ANC) will ensure you a place in heaven and voting for the opposition is a vote for the Devil (specifically the Prada wearing Devil Helen Zille). Naturally, after the media and wicked doing opposition parties berated him for this, the official response was that he was and I quote “misquoted”. Strange, seeing as just a couple of months prior he was also quoted as saying the ANC will rule until Jesus comes and leaving the ANC will result in you falling sick and dying. It boggles the mind how many times one man can be misquoted on the same topic that is religion – I guess the media still fails to grasp his ever shifting context.

I never knew God and the angels in heaven were invested in earthly politics. One would think their fight for our salvation transcends worldly toils, but I guess I am mistaken. I find it appropriate to repeat that according to the South African President there is a special place for the ruling party supporters in heaven and only the coming of Jesus will end their reign. I wonder how Jesus feels about this, do you think he knows and do you think he cares? Does this mean that if you are a Jew, Hindu, Muslim or god forbid an Atheist who don’t believe in Jesus, the second coming or the Christian Heaven you are screwed and don’t need to bother to vote? Does this mean the Devil herself is out to get the ANC and that the biblical battle on earth is not about good and evil but actually a political one with South Africa being the epicentre of what will determine the fate of all humanity? How on earth was this significantly important fact omitted from the Bible or are we missing the Chapter – The Book of Zuma? But either way thank you for clearing this up for us Mr President, I am glad that God is on your side, just make sure the voices that you are hearing in your head are in fact that of angels and not ones that requires medication.

Yes, Africa is truly one queer place with politicians and some governments providing us with more than our fare share of material to chuckle at, be amazed with and make fun off. Why they insist on setting themselves up to be mocked in this way is anybody’s guess. Sure, I have been somewhat facetious criticising two of our African leaders, but hey, farting should hardly be criminalized and assuming that God supports one political party is just plain ignorant. I say it’s time to tackle the real issues facing Africa and our respective countries, stop wasting time with frivolous nonsense and stop assuming our people the voters are stupid. Deal with the real issues, stop deceiving your citizens, stop threatening and intimidating people with religion and start behaving like the leaders you are suppose to be. Grow up you’re Presidents and not comedians so at least make a better effort to come across as such!

Anatomy of Change

Lady Gaga's Anatomy of Change.

Born this Way to be released on 23 May 2011

Egypt – Days of Rage

Having been to Egypt twice and admittedly having a soft spot for the country and its people, I have been following the Egyptian Revolution closely. Inspired by the successful uprising in Tunisia, Egyptians took to the streets last week protesting poverty, rampant unemployment, government corruption and the 30 year autocratic governance of President Hosni Mubarak. With protests turning violent and the death toll currently standing at over 300 and rising, Mubarak refusing to relinquish power before September, and the rest of the world watching in horror as violent clashes are broadcast over the news, I thought it appropriate to sit back and examine my own opinion on the turn of events.

With my first visit to Egypt, I was expectedly overwhelmed by the breadth of history and culture of the country. A nation with thousands of years of history, monuments, temples and pyramids symbolic of a nation steeped in mystery, a people who are resourceful and understatedly passionate. Watching images on CNN over the last few days, I saw places that I have been and even some people I have met and I saw the usual organized bustle replaced with chaos and violence. Watching the images on television I was haunted by the words I heard 4 years ago “One day the Egyptian people will have had enough of Mubarak and we will stand up and fight” and that day came!

During the last 30 years Mubarak became increasingly unpopular being uncomfortable bed fellows with the likes of Israel and the US and were perceived as serving the interest of the West and not that of the Egyptian people. A view that also seemed to have permeated through to the Arab world. Throw in oppression, poverty, abuse of power and torture and no matter how patient a nation is, a point will be reached when the pot will boil over. A nation can only be oppressed for so long before the cracks will start to show and power will shift.

For many the Egyptian Revolution brings a sense of discomfort as the perceived status qou have been disrupted. Allies are uncertain of their future relations with Egypt; fear the strengthening of the Arab world and the radicalization of Muslims. The West’s strongest Arab ally is about to transform and uncertainty is gnawing at their already tested nerves. And as the whole world watches political and economical fallout seems to overshadow the actual plight and fight of the Egyptian people.

We far too often forget about the human aspects of violent revolutions. We forget that the people we see being tear gassed, shot at and run over by tanks or trucks are someone’s brother, father, son or grandchild. We neglect to understand the history and oppression on a grass root level and how the people protesting have been affected in their daily lives and what drove them the boiling point they find themselves. We speculate about their futures and our governments try to influence the outcome in favour of their own political agendas, and this in my opinion is wrong.

Egypt is a country with so much more to offer than pyramids and temples. Sure this is one of the reasons people visit the country as tourism is one of the larger contributors to its economy. When I read reports of Egyptians protecting and warding off looters at libraries, museums and temples in Cairo, Luxor and Alexandria, I once again came to realize that the true value of that country is its people - People amidst violent chaos risking their own lives to preserve and protect their heritage and culture. People who are proud, patriotic and passionate.

Egypt is facing a precarious and volatile time. As the protest gets more violent and more people are killed and injured and as Mubarak is systematically ousted a void will need to be filled. New leaders will emerge and whether they will be nationalist or Islamist, civilian or military is anybody’s guess and everybody’s concern. Whatever happens in Egypt in the following days and months to come is sure to make and leave a large impact on the region. Similar protest have broken out in Yemen and said to soon spread to Jordan. I believe nations should not interfere unduly in these protest and provide Egypt and similarly other affected countries the opportunity for their own people to resolve their issues. We as the voyeurs to this historic event in Egypt’s history should be mindful of our responsibility as well – making sure it is accurately documented, people survive it with dignity and applying an uneasy patience of which so many of us are unaccustomed too.

As the Egyptian Protests (also being referred to as Days of Rage, the Papyrus Revolution and the Lotus Revolution) continues, let our thoughts be with the people living through what can only be described as frightening and let’s not forget their humanity. I, for one, am looking forward to again visit Egypt sometime in the near future and to be with its people but the next time finding them free and living in a democracy.

Till next time.

Emergency Room

There’s nothing like an early Sunday morning visit to the Emergency Room to put life into perspective. Excruciating pain, drips, injections, screaming children and blood spatter on the floor, from a previous casualty, really has a way of ruining ones day. And this is exactly how I spent my morning yesterday. You see I had to go to the ER due an excruciating and unrelenting pain in my chest combined with hunching over in agony every time I swallowed. All this leading up to an experience I’d rather not relive again.

Sunday morning didn’t start like any other. I didn’t sleep in, only waking up at 9am serenely rolling around in bed wondering what I’d be cooking for Sunday lunch. No, I was awake pretty much on-and-off since 2am, rolling around uncomfortably wondering exactly how bad the pain must become before it warranted a trip to hospital. Finally, by 7am I had enough and hubby knowing that I have a high pain threshold and seeing the agony on my face, even with the Botox, decided it was time to go to the ER.

Not liking sick people and therefore not loving hospitals I was not particularly thrilled on arrival, but I did want the pain to stop. We walked into the ER, completed the paperwork and waited. The waiting room being relatively small was filled with people looking concerned, tired and not ready for their close-ups. Being in a world of pain I didn’t care what I looked like either and it wasn’t my finest hour. After a couple of minutes the attending nurse called my name and ushered me into a consultation room. He asked me about my symptoms, where the pain was, what it felt like and took my vitals. The conversation was brief as he could see I was in pain and not in the mood for idle chatter. Shortly after I was admitted to the ER and waited for the Doctor.

In my little curtained cubical there was a bed, a single chair, medical paraphernalia and a couple of dried blood spatters on the floor. It wasn’t long before the Doctor arrived. Clutching my file and with a concerned expression on her face she said “One of three things is going on here. You’re either having a heart attack, have an obstruction in your esophagus or having an extreme episode of acid reflux that has hurt your esophagus. We’ll do an EKG, take X-rays and maybe take some blood and I’ll be back shortly”. It’s nice when a physician provides you with the worst case scenario first and not to mention comforting, so naturally after the Doctor left my cubical with one of the curtains trailing behind her in her wake, I requested the nurse to fetch hubby from the waiting room. After all if I were having a heart attack at the age of 33 I wanted him to be with me.

The nurse together with my husband returned and she proceeded to hook me up to the EKG machine. What felt like a hundred stickers were placed all over my chest and stomach. As the nurse was sticking them on me I noticed her arms. They were covered with scars and cigarette burns, being a curious person by nature but impeded by precarious health, I resisted the urge to ask her about it and prevented a potential uncomfortable situation. The EKG cleared me of a heart attack and I was immensely relieved! The first of what would be two intravenous medications was then administered via drip and I was sent off to X-rays.

There is a strange sense of irony when one is ill, but still able to walk and a hospital policy insists that you be pushed around in a wheelchair. I don’t understand it but hospital staff gets pretty annoyed when you don’t comply so eventually I did. At X-rays I had to take of my shirt and put on a horrendously unflattering gown which is quite an operation when your arm is connected to a drip with a one meter long pipe. I got entangle, confused, frustrated and after sobbing quietly managed to free myself from it twice. I was cleared of an obstruction by X-rays and finally diagnosed with acute "Gastro Esophageal Gastritis", a scary way of saying I had a throat infection causing cramping brought on by acid reflux that could be caused by a stomach ulcer. It’s unflattering, very painful, and something I would not wish onto some, but not all, of my worst enemies.

I was returned to the ER and administered the second and last drip. It made me drowsy, somewhat incoherent but brought some relief. I stayed in the ER for four long hours before finally being released with a month supply of ulcer and heartburn medication and a referral to a surgeon if my condition does not improve. All in all my Sunday was ruined and coincidentally my Monday was too as I am still in some pain, still finding it hard to swallow food and I still have dizzy spells, all of which should pass soon.

As I was pulling the last of the EKG stickers of my chest in the shower Sunday night, I couldn’t help but realize how lucky I am. I am lucky not to have had a heart attack, lucky to be able to afford health care and be treated in a private hospital, lucky to be in relatively good health and I’m lucky to have a husband who loves me. Frankly, if a throat infection, cramping, heartburn and a possible stomach ulcer is the worst of my health problems, then I don’t really have anything to complain about now do I. Sure it pretty much ruined my weekend and my Monday, but hell there are far worse things that could have happened.  However, I am going back to bed now, cuddle my warm water bottle and feel a little sorry for myself for a tad longer or at least until the pain stops!

Till next time.

Horrific News

This week I heard the three words I hoped never to hear again. They bring back painful memories both literally and figuratively. Memories of embarrassment, inability to eat certain foods, one week in every six weeks of physical pain, wax, chapped lips and having to accessorize my fag bag with toothpicks, a tooth brush and toothpaste. This week I was told “You need braces” again and I almost died! I had braces before and never thought I’d see the day that I had to go back to that, but alas I have no choice.

You see this week I went for my regular teeth cleaning and checkup at the Dentist. Admittedly the Dentist is not my most favorite medical practitioner to see, hence my obsession with my dental health. I have never had a cavity in my whole life and I never plan to experience the horror of being inflicted on a root canel. To avoid the dental drill I brush my teeth twice, sometimes more, a day and floss and do everything I can to keep my gums and teeth healthy. So with this week’s visit I wasn’t expecting any bad news or nasty surprises and that is the thing with optimism and expectations - neither have ever served me well.

Towards the end of what was a rather uncomfortable teeth cleaning session my Dentist, the genius that he is, decided to compare my current X-Rays with that of my previous visits and discovered something ominous. He doubled check the X-Rays and with an alarmed expression checked my mouth and said “I don’t think you are going to like what I am about to tell you” and he was right I didn’t and I proceeded to throw a hissy fit and almost broke down crying. “Braces! Really?! I’m turning 34 this year I can’t be wearing no God Damn BRACES!” are just a few boorish things that flew out of my mouth. After I dropped a few more F-bombs, he managed to calm me down.

“It’s not that bad” he said “There are many adults that get braces these days, it’s almost fashionable”. Yea right, braces at my age is hardly a fashion statement and besides that they will clash with all my outfits! Apparently I am experiencing what they call an “Orthodontic Relapse”, which is just a nice way of saying you are fucked for two years and if you’re single you will stay that way!  There was no good news that day, my teeth are moving again and they will not stop by themselves and, whether I liked it or not, if I ever want to smile again on a photo I would have to get fucking braces.

Quite depressed I arrived home and started to Google braces. These days you get invisible ones that you can remove for eating and for other things that requires an unoccupied mouth, but they are expensive and knowing myself I’d probably not wear them 80% of the time which defies their purpose. You also get porcelain ones that are less noticeable and could be a more viable solution. However, they break easily and due to their fragility could increase your braces hell by double. So the most viable option is the standard metal mouth braces which one can brighten up with colorful rubber bands giving you a pretty scary rainbow smile – come on let us all jump with joy!

I’m still depressed and is looking forward to my first appointment at the Orthodontist on 3 February at 2:30pm with the contempt and enthusiasm it deserves. I’ll be 36 when my braces come off, that’s four years from 40! For the next two years I’ll be getting my braces adjusted next to 13 year old kids, be eating corn on the cob with a knife and fork, not be able to smile after eating lunch or dinner because there will be food that needs to be dislodged and my personal favorite - I’ll be setting off metal detectors at airports. All fabulous things I have to look forward too. The only upside to this is the fact that I will definitely lose weight.

As one of my more favorite medical practitioners was injecting my annual Botox touch-ups, she said something that made sense. Vanity comes with a price, a fair share of pain and a whole lot of sacrifice. Our metamorphosis of what we want to be on the inside and outside is never complete and there are always some things we would want to change. Some things are by choice and others are not and peace should be made with that. I choose not have the ability to frown as it’s highly overrated but I don’t have a choice about the braces. With just over a week before my reunion with the Orthodontic industry I will make a concerted effort to make peace with the impending fact that I will be getting braces. Fucking braces!

Till next time.

Tommy Ryman at the Joke Joint

Hot Flash!

OK, I’ll say what everyone around me has been thinking – the weather has gone to shit! What was supposed to have been a lovely summer in South Africa turned into one big wet muddy bloody mess! The Northern Hemisphere is icing over and the Southern Hemisphere is deluged with rain and somewhere a penguin is sitting on a shrinking iceberg staring into the ocean wondering what the hell is going on! Fighting my way through rainstorms, flash floods and rain induced traffic jams, I couldn't help but wonder, have the effects of Global Warming finally caught up with us?

For some queer reason our four cats believe hubby and I are omnipotent and controls the universe and blames us for any sudden changes in the weather. It has been raining here, on and off, for the last 6 weeks and as all of us knows pussies don’t like getting wet. So when it’s time for them to go potty, mud is a less than desirable alternative for their sensitive dry, clean and spoiled paws. Consequently, hubby and I have been getting a significantly increased number of insufferable feline stares. Our pool have also over flown twice, our garden is over saturated and we are pretty sure that our house’s gutters have been expunged of all accumulated debris that may have collected in them during the winter months. South Africa has been unseasonably chilly and wet and for this my cats blames us and I, in return, blame Global Warming!

One would think that with Global Warming the planet would be heating up, then why is it that it appears that the opposite is happening – all over the world it is getting less sunny and is in effect getting colder. I’m no climatologist and I am sure that an expert could explain this in uneconomical and incomprehensible detail. But just think about events of the last 8 weeks. Heavy snow fall in Europe saw the closure of airports causing many of my fellow bloggers to be stranded in foreign countries without any spare clean underwear. There have been floods in Australia, Brazil and Southern Africa that could see cars being fitted with life rafts in addition to the standard airbags in future. The weather has gone awry and clearly Mother Nature is having a bad day and the bitch is making us pay.

As I type this I can literally see my tan fade away from my Vitamin D deprived skin. I’m finding it difficult to summon up recent memories of lounging next to the pool while sipping cocktails in the African summer heat. The once adored melodic rhythmic sound of raindrops dancing on our roof now mocks me, detains me and frustrates me. I am wet, confined to indoor spaces, prone to bad hair days, forever cleaning up muddy paw prints, struggling to dry my washing and constantly peckish for snacks which are making me fat! To worsen matters, yesterday my car’s on-board computer also warned me my breaks are falling and all this while the roads are wet, flooded, pot hole filled and congested with people who, when water is added to the equation, for no clear reason loses their basic driving skills. Global warming is making me feel claustrophobic, unattractive, fat and could also make my live potentially dangerous.

Sure Mother Nature and Planet Earth have been having a tough time with us polluting the air with fossil fuels, drilling into her for minerals, stripping her forests and over fishing her oceans. She’s also getting on a bit in age with hot flashes now and again being unavoidable and she too may not be feeling all that attractive. And for all of what we have done to her, she sure knows how to retaliate – if she’s going to die as a result of our actions she’s hell bend on taking us all with her in the form of global warming. Like a mother disciplines a child, so too are we now being disciplined by nature by being scorched, frozen, flooded and shaken about. Will we learn our lesson before it is too late and the world turns to hell, well only time will tell!

Through all of this particular planetary hot flash and motherly chastising I am doing my best to stay positive and look at the bright side. At least our house is not in a low lying area prone to flooding, our roof is not leaking and the gutters are not blocked. Killer pussy has not murdered a bird in weeks and the avian population in our neighbourhood have had some time to recover. Our garden has not needed to be watered in over a month and the pool didn’t need refilling resulting in a significantly reduced water bill. And finally, I can always go back to gym to lose my global warming weight, have my breaks repaired and as for bad hair days there are always hats.

As the rain continues to pour down in the Southern Hemisphere and the snow continues to fall in the Northern Hemisphere, we are all reminded of our fragile planet and left to contemplate whether global warming is just a theory or a very real reality. Truth be told, Mother Nature is having a hot flash and it’s a wet and cold one! In the years to come many more surprises will come our way and I suspect some of them will not be pleasant. But for now, all I want is for the rain to stop, to again see the sun protrude through the rain clouds forming a pretty rainbow and for the warm sun rays to kiss my skin and give me a few more freckles!

Till next time.

Katy Perry FIREWORK!! parody by SHERRY VINE

8th Most Dangerous Country!

According to some statics I live in one of the top 10 most dangerous countries in the world. Specifically, South Africa is the 8th most dangerous country to live in with Iraq topping the list at number 1. So it should not come as any surprise that this week hubby and I had our home security upgraded from basic to ultra annoyingly sophisticated. While our new private security company was busy updating and replacing our old security systems with new improved security measures, I couldn’t help but wonder – have we become so overly obsessed with our own personal security that we are voluntarily turning our houses into fortresses and in so doing effectively turning our homes into prisons?

We live in a day and age where going to bed without looking your doors or leaving your keys in your car is long forgotten much like VHS and Cassette Tapes. The world have become a more dangerous place, and especially in South Africa, people are more prone to be vigilant and security conscious. So when we bought our house, a year ago, security was on the top of our priority list when doing our renovations, and this was somewhat of an adjustment. You see, we moved from an apartment without an alarm system and where 3 keys would get you into the apartment, now we live in a house where I have a set of 11 keys, an alarm system that’s complicated and moody and NOT pussy friendly!

You see, we have had too many rude awakenings at four o’clock in the morning due to one of our cats tripping one of the motion sensors while going for an early morning pee. So when this happened one too many times this past December and fearing falling victim to the “cry wolf” complacent syndrome, hubby and I decided to upgrade our alarm system:. One motion sensing beam was modified, one added and one moved; two additional motion sensors were fitted; a lock box mounted; the 8 zone control panel replaced with a 16 zone panel; two remote control panic buttons with arming and disarming functionality was provided and a pinhole camera installed. On completion of this 8 hour upgrade it was promptly followed by an hour long training session on how to operate everything accompanied by an 80 page manual. Now, if for any reason the alarm is triggered and we forget or fail to provide the right password to the control room, armed men with bullet proof vest will come bursting through our doors and blow shit up!

With all the security upgrades my one and only request was that it were to be done discreetly. I didn’t want our house to look like we were hiding Osama Bin Laden, were members of a Mafia family or were owners of a vast collection of expensive art. I didn’t want people driving past our 10 foot front wall wondering what the hell is so damn important behind it that requires 10 cameras and an armed response, as that would also attract the wrong kind of attention! Luckily, for me, they complied with my request but only within reason. Now, I know you may ask yourself is all of this security really necessary?

The simple answer is yes! The crime rate in our neighborhood is relatively low; there have been a few housebreaking's, car thefts, car hijackings but violent home invasions are rare but they do happen. Inevitably if they break into your house and you are unfortunate enough to be home you will be hurt or killed. So I’d rather be safe than sorry, and I appear not to be alone.

More and more people are raising their walls, putting up electric fences and enhancing their security systems. Homes are slowly being transformed from serene picket fences to full fetched fortresses where you can only see your neighbors by appointment. Going to bed at night have also become a complicated affair with the locking of doors, the switching on of outdoor lights and the arming of secure zones for your own protection. Unannounced visitors now have to wait up to 10 minutes before you can let them in, or else they would face the wrath of your security company and their men with guns. Jehovah Witness now have to try and pitch their religion to you through and intercom system and the paperboy needs a security clearance to deliver your news paper. And all of this because we want to feel safe!

I live in the 8th most dangerous country in the world and there still is no place like home! Yes we have motion sensors mounted at our property’s perimeters, yes we have motion sensors in every room and in the roof, yes we have armed men in bullet proof vest the press of a button away and yes we have security doors and burglar bars, but my home is still serene. It is serene because I have peace of mind. Peace of mind with the knowledge that if anything bad should ever happen that we will be OK. Peace of mind because I know if anyone who should not be here get within one feet inside our property all hell will break loose with bells, whistles, sirens, guns, bullet casings and two very annoyed Queens.  Our house may be a fortress or even a prison that keeps unwanted people out, but at least it is a pretty and discreet one!

Till next time.

Straight Gay Guy - Comedy Time