iBreakup

So I finally did it.  After a two year, and I might add, unhealthy relationship with BlackBerry we finally broke up.  It was an uneventful breakup.  There was none of those “It’s not you, it’s me” or “I feel like we have grown apart” bullshit.  I just finally one day grew tired of my BlackBerry freezing up, having to reboot the piece of shit and going without reliable service.  So when it was time to upgrade it was a no brainer, I switched to iPhone.  And I must say iLove it so much that I also forced hubby to embrace Apple like a sex starved bandit!  But being now fully connected in the iWorld with my iPhone and iPad, I could not help but notice how certain apps (most of which are free) could seriously cause problems in your relationships.  So please bear with me as I explain.

After we got back from New York I wasted no time in acquiring my brand new iPhone.  I was like a five year old child at Christmas time, all excited even though I knew exactly what I would be getting.  Yes, I was one of those children that had an internal tracking device for hidden Christmas presents and I was also quite efficient with opening presents and then wrapping them again without leaving any traces that the presents were disturbed.  When I arrived at my service provider I told the lady that I was due for an upgrade and told her what I wanted.  In her very thick African accent she said “Eish, OOOKy.  We only have the white one, you still want it?”  To which I responded “No, I want my BEE phone, I am NOT a racist!” which she did not find amusing at all, but I thought it was hilarious.

After about 20 minutes of paper work and some technical magic, my address book was transferred to my iPhone, my new simcard activated and my BlackBerry was no longer operational.  The poor thing looked sad as it knew it was destined to go into that drawer in the dining room where old cell phones go to die.  It’s like an electronic retirement village for old phones, iPods, displaced chargers and other unspecified electronics.  It is the kind of collection that hoarders keep for in case there is a zombie apocalypse and only old Nokias, BlackBerries and old digital cameras would be the tools that will help them to survive in order to save humanity from extinction.

Seeing as I have had my iPad now for a while, getting use to my new iPhone was a breeze.  They work exactly the same.  During this time I also was blissfully unaware that there were certain people who were frantically sending me BBM’s which I obviously were no longer getting.  “Did I do something that pissed you off?” the one private message read on Facebook “Why are you ignoring me?” read the other.  Clearly nobody knew that I have dumped my BlackBerry and they were taking my lack of replying to their BBM’s very personally.  Even worse were those friends who are fiercely loyal to RIM and who after learning that I got divorced from their product only replied via text message with “Oh, I see...  Hope you are “happy” with your new iPhone and Whatsapp”.  Their sarcasm was almost tangible.

Why people take the abandoning of a brand so personally I don’t know.  Did they not get lost in a strange town because their Garmap refused to work?  Did they not also go a week without service due to a server clusterfuck last year?  Do they not get annoyed when their handsets freeze up and need to be rebooted a couple of times a day?  Do they like that BlackBerry’s Application World was inaccessible for the last six months that I had my phone?  I guess not.  Brand loyalty can only go so far before you get so sick of shit not working and you decide to move on.  And this is exactly what I did.  It is true that iPhone has some amazing apps.  But there is also the not so much talked about darkside.  iPhone and certain apps have taken stalking and lack of privacy to a whole new level!

Take the Find Friends App.  Just this weekend I downloaded it to my iPhone.  On the surface it looks like quite a useful tool for checking up where you friends are (Like in physically.  Like in their actual accurate location within a 3 meter radius) After downloading the app I turned to hubby “Honey, I want to send you an invitation to a new app that I just downloaded, which email address should I sent it to?” I said in my sweetest and most innocent voice.  He gave me an email address and within minutes he turned to me and said “Are you serious?!  I am NOT accepting this!  What about my privacy, you may as well insert a tracking device into my arm!  WTF?!” Visibly shocked and disgusted with technology he asked me if this was legal, to which I said “Of course it is legal!  You would not be able to download it if it wasn’t”  To which he responded “But you made us register our phones to Botswana because South Africa is blocking too many apps, I am sure this is NOT legal”.

After some debate and talking about issues of trust, hubby finally accepted the request.  I mean honestly, if you can take a shit while your partner is brushing his teeth in the same bathroom, the issue of privacy becomes a little complicated to define, don’t you agree?  So, hubby became the first person I could track on my Find Friends App, and it works really REALLY well!  Coincidentally, hubby “forgot” his phone at home today.  I guess he wanted some privacy, after all he is not under house arrest or correctional supervision and he does not need full time monitoring – he is my husband and not my prisoner!  At least not this time, but I don’t speak out of the bedroom…

The Find Friends App really raises some important questions though.  If you have this app, is it morally correct to use it on your spouse?  If your spouse refuses to accept the request, do they have something to hide?  Does this cross the line and create the impression that you don’t trust your spouse?  All of this is something to think about while you search your spouse’s exact location and check if they are where they are suppose to be.

I no longer use the Find Friends App because even though it works really well it isn’t actually right, in my opinion, to spy on your husband or friends – people that is why we have Facebook!  If you have children, then that is a whole different story though because then you can rationalize it by saying it is a “Parenting Tool”.  Technology has really made some great strides since the days of those huge cell phones people carried around in the 90’s, but as I learned this week, technology can also cause some serious problems especially in relationships.  I have come to realize that you can choose to use technology for either good or for evil and sometimes the lines appear to be quite blurred.  I guess the moral of this story is don’t let your iPhone lead to an iBreakup.  Use your iPhone wisely.

Till next time.

Why Cats Hate Halloween!

Halloween is one of my favourite holidays.  It's a time you can dress-up and be silly.  However, there are some people out there (and you know who you are), who is not only content to walk around in silly costumes themselves, their pets have to be tortured to do the same.  Here are the photographic evidence!

And then we wonder why our pets sometimes turns on us...

This Is Halloween

Halloween. Did you know?

With just over a couple of weeks until Halloween I thought it appropriate to share some little known facts with you about Hallows’ Eve.

1.) “Halloween” is short for “Hallows’ Eve” or “Hallows’ Evening,” which was the evening before All Hallows’ (sanctified or holy) Day or Hallowmas on November 1. In an effort to convert pagans, the Christian church decided that Hallowmas or All Saints’ Day (1 November) and All Souls’ Day (2 November) should assimilate sacred pagan holidays that fell on or around 31October.

2.) Halloween originated in Ireland over 2,000 years ago. Ireland is typically believed to be the birthplace of Halloween.

3.) The first Jack O’Lanterns were actually made from turnips.

4.) Halloween is the second highest grossing Commercial Holiday after Christmas.

5.) The word “Witch” comes from the Old English wicce, meaning “wise woman.” In fact, wiccan were highly respected people at one time. According to popular belief, witches held one of their two main meetings, or sabbats, on Halloween night.

6.) Samhainophobia is the fear of Halloween.

7.) The Owl is a popular Halloween image. In Medieval Europe, owls were thought to be witches, and to hear an owl's call meant someone was about to die.

8.) Trick-or-Treating evolved from the ancient Celtic tradition of putting out treats and food to placate spirits who roamed the streets at Samhain, a sacred festival that marked the end of the Celtic calendar year.

9.) Black and Orange are typically associated with Halloween. Orange is a symbol of strength and endurance and, along with brown and gold, stands for the harvest and autumn. Black is typically a symbol of death and darkness and acts as a reminder that Halloween once was a festival that marked the boundaries between life and death.

10.) Dressing Up as ghouls and other spooks originated from the ancient Celtic tradition of townspeople disguising themselves as demons and spirits. The Celts believed that disguising themselves this way would allow them to escape the notice of the real spirits wandering the streets during Samhain.

11.) Mexico celebrates the Days of the Dead (Días de los Muertos) on the Christian holidays All Saints’ Day (1 November) and All Souls’ Day (2 November) instead of Halloween. The townspeople dress up like ghouls and parade down the street.

12.) Teng Chieh or the Lantern Festival is one Halloween festival in China. Lanterns shaped like dragons and other animals are hung around houses and streets to help guide the spirits back to their earthly homes. To honour their deceased loved ones, family members leave food and water by the portraits of their ancestors.

13.) Halloween celebrations in Hong Kong are known as Yue Lan or the “Festival of the Hungry Ghosts” during which fires are lit and food and gifts are offered to placate potentially angry ghosts who might be looking for revenge.

14.) In the United States of America both Salem, Massachusetts, and Anoka, Minnesota, are the self-proclaimed Halloween Capitals of the world.

15.) In many countries, such as France and Australia, Halloween is seen as an Unwanted and overly commercial American influence.

Till next time.

A Week in New York & Jet Lag

Our week in New York was everything I expected and more.  Now being back at work and feeling extremely jet lagged, it seems strange to think that just a couple of days ago I was still in the Big Apple.  Being jet lagged isn’t any fun and it makes you stupid.  It feels like you are hours behind everybody and everything and you experience uncontrollable bouts of drowsiness and energetic rushes at the most inconvenient times:  Falling asleep at your desk at 11am and being wide awake and ready to climb Mount Everest at 2am.  My body’s clocked is fucked, but they say it will reset itself and things will go back normal in a day or two.  In the mean time everybody just have to deal with me somewhat incoherent and sleepy the whole time.  But I digress; let me tell you about our week in New York City.

It should not come as much of a shock to learn that a certain airline didn’t upgrade hubby and I to business class.  We had to fly cattle class and it was awful!  Imagine spending 23 hours in a plane, cramped in like sardines with what sounded like a 100 babies screaming at the top of their lungs none stop.  This happened on both our departing flights as well as our return flights.  I have come to learn that I hate babies, especially on planes.  Luckily I was armed with sleeping pills and my iPod and if I didn’t have this combo you were sure to have read about a certain passenger who tried to open the plane doors at 35 000 feet threatening to throw babies out of the cabin.  It was that bad!  On our flight to JFK I also learned a valuable lesson the hard way – never fly with boots because your feet will swell up and you will have one hell of a hard time putting your boots back on again.  Needless to say when I arrived at JFK I could hardly walk.  I was in pain and my ankles looked like those of an 8 month pregnant woman who was retaining water.

Waddling my way through customs must have looked very funny as I was walking like a disabled person.  We stood in line for just under an hour and for the first time in my history I did not experience any problems.  Hubby and I were processed and welcomed to America.  No interrogations, no searching our luggage, no strip search (I was kind of disappointed about the strip search part though seeing as the one security guy was rather hot).  We made our way to the taxi and we were whisked off to our hotel in midtown Manhattan.  We stayed in the Yotel on the 24^th floor and had the most amazing view of downtown Manhattan.  The only disappointing thing about the hotel was the fact that it was a “non smoking hotel” (yes, I am smoking again) and they have a $245 fine if you were caught smoking in your room.  So I was creative.

I did smoke in our room, practically hanging out of our little window that could open and I went through two air fresheners in one week.  I did not get fined and I sure hope that no one of the Yotel’s staff actually read my blog.  On our first day in New York we decided to do the open hop-on-hop-off bus tour mainly because my feet were still throbbing and secondly because we wanted to get our bearings and find out where everything were and how far certain places were from our hotel.  We managed to see midtown and downtown Manhattan and we also saw a large part of Brooklyn on the first day.  It was fabulous!

The first thing that I noticed was that New York is loud.  Everything makes a noise and it doesn’t stop.  The noise level practically stays the same 24/7.  The second thing I noticed was that New Yorkers are some of the friendliest people I have ever come across.  Sure most New Yorkers mostly keep to themselves walking down the street with their iPods firmly lodged in their ears, a cup of Starbucks coffee in the one hand and checking their messages on their phones in the other.  All New Yorkers clearly have places to be and everyone is constantly in a rush, but if you look confused or lost New Yorkers will take the time to stop and ask you if they can help.  In South Africa that will never happen.  The only people who will stop and take an interest in you are the ones who will most probably rob you.  Which brings me to crime in NYC.

There wasn’t any time during our stay in New York that I felt unsafe.  Not taking the subway or walking the streets at night.  The NYPD are everywhere and if you don’t do anything stupid chances are nothing bad will happen to you in NYC.  The one thing that I did notice was that there are a lot of homeless people in Manhattan, people from all ages, from the druggies to the mentally ill.  The funniest homeless woman I saw was at Battery Park.  She was your stereotypical bag lady and clearly was suffering from mental illness.  She was screaming at puddles of water on the ground and at one point she collected these puddles in Starbucks cups screaming at them “I will deal with you later!”  I didn’t know what the water puddles ever did to her but clearly she had issues with them and I didn’t want to get involved.

There is a reason there are so few obese people in Manhattan.  You walk a lot in New York and you walk long distances.  This is why we quickly learned to use the subway.  It’s cheap and convenient once you have figured out how to use it.  On the first day of venturing underground we were struggling to buy our metro cards.  The machine kept on saying “NO” much to our frustration.  The fact that it is hot as hell down there also didn’t help much either.  Eventually a homeless man came to our assistance and it freaked me out.  I almost broke my Botox!  We got our metro cards and the guy left by saying “Have a nice day now” and he didn’t even ask for money.  It felt quite surreal!  I did see a really fat lady on the subway the one day though.  She was too fat to use the turnstiles and she had to use the emergency exit which sounds a rather loud alarm if you open it.  I recall hubby turning to me and saying “Shame, it must be horrible to be reminded everyday by an alarm that you have a weight problem” as we watched her struggling to climb the stairs.

Some of the highlights of our trip to NYC must be Central Park which looks amazing in autumn, watching Mamma Mia on Broadway which was awesome, seeing Picasso’s Black & White exhibition in the Guggenheim and generally just walking around in New York and experiencing the city as it rushes by you, rumbles underneath you and brushes past you on the sidewalks.  We took a couple of cab rides as well and contrary to what I heard taxis aren’t that expensive in New York.  However, I would not recommend using it as your primary form of transportation but every now and again it is convenient.  Owning a car in New York is also way too expensive as your parking fees per month could easily cost you the same, if not more, as your rent as parking spaces is a problem in the city.

We also saw a lot of people walking their dogs.  Some dogs having been quite large and it begged the question, how do you keep a Labrador in a New York City apartment, but clearly many people do.  The nastiest thing about being a dog owner in New York is that you have to pick up your dog’s poop with a plastic bag.  I gagged twice when I saw people do this and it made me really grateful that I am a cat person.  I cannot imagine having to kneel down and pick up dog shit and then having to walk a couple of meters with that in my hand to deposit it into a dustbin.  It’s gross, but I guess if you love your dog and you live in New York, that’s what you have to do.  New York is also one of the cleanest cities I have been to.  You won’t find the street littered with trash and there are very few, if any, cigarette butts on the street.  Every now-and-again you will catch and odd smell coming from vents in the street but mostly you will smell the food of the street vendors.  I ate two Halal hot dogs from said street vendors and they were scrumptious.

The weirdest thing we saw in New York was a prostitute (or at least we think she was one) a few blocks from Times Square.  It was just before 9am and she was wearing a very tight fitting red dress that accentuated all her fat rolls of which she had many.  Her plunging cleavage also revealed her aversion for brassieres and she was talking to a man who clearly though her eyes were down at her sagging tits.  This was not the normal morning attire of your round of the mil New Yorker and she looked like a two dollar whore.  We could not help but stare at her whorishness.  I wanted to take a picture of her because I knew nobody back at home would believe me if I told them this story, but I didn’t.  I didn’t know where her pimp was at.

Our time in New York City was fantastic and I desperately want to go back some day.  In the time we had we managed to get around to seeing everything we had planned.  But there are so much more in New York that I want to experience and see and one week clearly is not enough time to do that.  So hubby and I will have to save up money and plan another trip to New York.  It’s easy to fall in love with a city and I did with New York.  We took a big bite out of New York City and New York City took a big bite out of us and we loved every minute of it!

Till next time.

*This blog post was written while experiencing extreme jet lag.  Apologies for any incoherence, my biological clock is fucked.

Housewife and Dog Psychologist Start Race Riot on the Ridge

Seeing as I am in New York City this week and clearly having too much fun to blog, I have a guest blogger whom is no stranger to my blog.  She’s the infamous GeeGee Curtained from the Blog Two Fat Cows and she is also the token straight woman and columnist for the popular online Lesbian magazine The Modern L.  In this time of political correctness in South Africa, GeeGee unashamedly calls it as she sees it.  And if you don’t like it, as she would put it, “You can go fuck yourself!”

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m about as racist as I am homophobic and I haven’t been called ‘Superlettiebag’ and ‘Superfaghag’ for nothing.  I’m just fed-up, or as we say here in Gauteng – Gatvol!  I was standing at the till in the supermarket a few days ago and a black man behind me in the queue asked me if I would pay for his groceries.  I’ve done it before when I felt someone needed my help so I glanced down at the contents of his trolley and it was full of luxury items.  Not basic necessities like bread, milk, maize meal and tins of food but rather massive slabs of chocolate, ice-cream, t-bone steaks and so on.  I thought he was joking so I just looked at him and smiled politely so he says to me that he’s serious.  I think the disbelief at the bloody cheek of it was written all over my face because that’s when he called me a racist.  Without me saying a single word I was called a racist.  Asshole.  I thought to myself that he’s a very lucky man because if the incident had happened while the tumour I named Irene was still lodged in my brain it would have ended very badly for him.  Irene didn’t take shit and lost her temper spectacularly when she was fucked with.  Sometimes I miss her.

That brought to mind 2 things that happened while Irene was still very much alive and well.  The first was right here in my own back yard.  I’m ashamed (ok, not really ashamed – I just thought I’d put it out there to see how it sits) to say that morning I was a poster child for the saying ‘You can take the girl out of the hood...’  I was sitting minding my own business and having my first cuppa of the day (never a good time to mess with my ass) when all hell broke loose outside.  My elderly Golden Retriever Daisy was going absolutely apeshit and she’s a friendly muttley who loves everyone on sight, so it was strange enough for me to go to the window to investigate.  Our lovely neighbours are the Embassy from some God-forsaken African country.  I won’t mention which one but suffice to say it’s one that hangs gay people for the ‘heinous crime’ of loving someone of the same sex.  Anyway, one of the kids that live there was standing on the wall throwing stones at my dog.

"Hey! Stop that!" *through the window in my sternest voice*

He has the nerve to throw another rock, waggle his bum at me and stick his tongue out!  Well.  Clearly that was me!  Before I knew it I was outside in my robe, pyjamas and slippers trying to climb the 7 foot dividing wall. All I was focused on was getting my hands on that little shit and showing him what a crazy ass white bitch is capable of first thing in the morning if you mess with her muttleys.  I don't know what would have happened if my son hadn't come outside to see what the commotion was about and pulled me off the wall...  I don't even want to think of the image Shadrack now has in his head of his madam being held off the floor by her son, arms and legs flailing in her pink pj's and fluffy slippers.  Said neighbours have branded me a racist.  Assholes.  I would have reacted exactly the same if the child was white, a naughty child is a naughty child, no matter what colour.

The second erm... incident was while I was walking our dogs in the park around the corner with our dog psychologist. Don’t judge – I was trying to integrate my beloved late Doberman Samson with our smaller dogs and finally end the apartheid in our household.  There are massive signs everywhere telling people to keep their dogs on the leash but suddenly this ugly ass dog that looked like a hyena (in retrospect I think it might very well have been) appeared out of nowhere and was trying to bite Daisy.  She’s a gentle soul who wouldn’t hurt a fly and this bloody beast is nipping at her flanks and legs, my poor girl looked terrified.  Two black women wearing black t-shirts with white clenched fists on them come strolling over the rise and shout for us to leave their dog alone.

"We're not touching your dog, please put it on a leash" *politely*

"We don't have to do it just because you say so..."

WTF???? Huh?

"It's the law, read the signs" *doing my best to keep cool in front of the dog psychologist*

"You white bitches can't tell us what to do, we're diplomats..."

OMG....

Clearly that was me and all previous thoughts of decorum flew right out of my head without so much as a backward glance.  I made such a scene that two old white men who were there in a bakkie full of black construction workers came running. I could just picture the headline: 

“Housewife and Dog Psychologist Start Race Riot on the Ridge”

It got ugly, really ugly and I got nervous when I realised us whiteys were outnumbered 4 – 30 but my temper had total control over me by then.  At one point the dog lady was holding me back because all I could see was red and I wanted to smack the sanctimonious smirk off that bloody woman's face Oh. So. Badly.  Next thing she was right in my face, spittle flying, shouting that we tortured black people!  Me!?!  I've never tortured anyone or anything in my life but at that point I would’ve been more than happy to start with her.  Things only ended when I told them that one signal from me and Samson would rip all their throats out, starting with their ‘dog’. Gawd, one would think that one could walk one's dogs in peace...  The pure venom and undiluted hatred in that woman’s eyes was something else – I’m pretty sure if she had a gun on her she would have shot me, a perfect stranger.  Asshole.

I like living on the Ridge, but these bloody diplomats really get to me. We pay to live here yet they act like they own the whole neighbourhood, happily living the high life off their countries' gravy trains while their fellow countrymen starve to death.  Assholes.  Oh, and while on the subject of gravy trains - since Missus Z No. 5 has moved into the street our electricity bill has gone up by loads, funny that...  Asshole.  I'm not a racist, but days like that, when I'm exposed to reverse racism at its ugliest, I tend to waiver in my beliefs. My generation had no part of apartheid yet we get punished for it every day.  Growing up the first I ever knew racism even existed was when my mother’s best friend Jubi, her husband Josef and their kids would come over to visit and the neighbours wanted nothing to do with us because of it.  When I asked my friends why they weren’t allowed to come over anymore they told me it was because we had coloured people visiting at our house and their parents didn’t want them to play with me anymore because they saw me playing with coloured children.  Fucking assholes.

I don’t care whether you’re black, blue, green or pink but if you’re an asshole you’re a fucking asshole.  I’m sick to death of being accused of being a racist and keeping my mouth shut, walking on eggshells around black people with chips on their shoulders in case I offend them.  An old friend of mine often rants and raves about the state of affairs in this country – to the point where we tease him that he’s sounding more like a Right Wing AWB leader by the day.  I’m sure old Eugene Terreblanche would turn in his grave if he knew a coloured man was being compared to him!  Can’t help having a bit of a giggle at that...  Ah well, he was an embarrassment anyway – I mean, apart from all the shit the damn fool spoke, the fucker fell off his horse.  Walking in a parade...  And he called himself a Boer?  Perfect example of what I mean by Asshole.

Last year at Pride when I went undercover as a lesbian my Gentledyke and I were asked by a black man whether he could watch us have sex and he kept pestering us for ages, making a complete nuisance of himself.  He got more inappropriate as the hours went by, completely spoiling our day.  If he was white he would’ve had his ass kicked into the next century by the men who were with us but because he was black he got away with it.  Asshole.  And don’t even get me started on the black women in the parking lot of our local supermarket.  Driving massive 4x4’s they can barely see over the steering wheels of – but if they have diplomatic plates you can be sure that bitch is going to either scrape your car or drive over your foot and beware if you so much as say a single word about it, then you’re a racist.  Assholes.  If I did the same thing accidently?  Then I’d be called a racist.  You just can’t win. 

I have often partied and had great fun with people of all races in our Rainbow Nation but I don’t walk around talking about my black friends.  I don’t talk about my white friends either.  Friends are friends, no matter what colour they are.  So I don’t sit down with Precious for a cuppa and a natter – I had a white maid in Spain and I didn’t socialise with her either, as one does when someone is part of your household staff, but I wasn’t accused of being prejudiced because of that.  Besides, Precious is completely uneducated and comes from a small Xhosa village in the Eastern Cape and communicating with her can be a bit of a challenge.  I had no idea until friends from the UK came to stay and they asked me what language we speak to each other, apparently it sounds like a strange form of Pidgin English.

If there was a word for someone who can’t tolerate assholes I wouldn’t mind being called that at all.  An assholist perhaps? But being called a racist?  Yes, I do fucking mind thankyouverymuch...

Time for a voddie shot methinks, I'm all worked up all over again.

*clink!*

GeeGee xx

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Is Social Media Turning Us Into Lazy Voyeurs

Facebook, Pinterest, Linkedin, Google+ and Twitter are just some social networking websites most of us visit every day. The world has indeed become a smaller place as it is getting easier for us to communicate and connect with people from across the globe. The convenience of checking up on what your friends are doing with the click of a button has in some cases replaced a simple phone call. Names have been replaced with handles or avatars and it all have become very impersonal. This led me to ask, has social networking websites driven as further away from each other instead of bringing us closer?There are very few people I know that are not on Facebook. The scary reality is that if you don’t have a Facebook, Linkedin or Google+ account you almost do not exist and if you don’t tweet or know what Twitter is you have probably been living in a cave. Cyberspace no longer is a mere tool to do research, get information, sell or buy products and communicate, it has evolved into an alternative means of socialization. We share information about ourselves with hundreds if not thousands of people every day and in return we get to know more about others. Sometimes we learn things about people we rather could have done without.
Having just over 6000 friends on Facebook my news feed gets flooded with status updates every few minutes. Some status updates are quite interesting and others are just plain bizarre. This one person on Facebook insists on providing blow-by-blow accounts about the status of his erections – like I care! Seriously, is his life that uninteresting or should there be some cause for concern regarding his obsession with his cock? Another person seems to have serious relationship problems as her relationships status fluctuates between beings single, in a relationship, engaged, to it's complicated and back to single again in the course of just one week. Either she’s experiencing some schizoid episodes or urgently needs to evaluate her “relationship” as it does not seem healthy.

Something I find particularly bizarre is the Facebook profiles people create for their pets and children. A family member (whose name I wouldn’t dare mention) have created and maintains profiles for her dog and cat complete with photos, careers and relationship status. Another person I know has done the same for her 9 month old son, and he already has 67 friends. It’s just creepy, but I did accept their friend requests, I do know them after all.  I too have created a Fan Page for my cat "Killer Pussy", so yea I am no better than them either.  At least my cat has more fans than the average person on Facebook have friends.  She has 815, but she doesn't give a rats ass about that (and yes the pun is fully intended).

Even stranger is the fact that on Twitter I am now following a cat. No you didn’t read incorrectly I am really following a critter of the feline persuasion. I get hourly updates from the feline lounging around the house, taking a nap or taking a poo in the litter box. Now, I will admit this is my own craziness for following the daily toils of a fictional cat, but curiosity also got the better of over 1 416 057 other people who are also following "Sockington" the famous tweeting feline. One would think having 5 cats of my own I would have better things to do, but clearly I don’t.  (PS: Killer Pussy is on Twitter too!) 

Social networking sites have also made us lazy and voyeurs. Where are the days when friends returned from an exotic holiday and we would pop by for a visit to check out their holiday photos? These days you can follow their adventures online and in real time. This makes it really convenient for all your stalkers to track where you are and what you are doing. No need to hide in the bushes are purchase expensive plane tickets.  Facebook has brought us Cyber Stalking.  Personally,  I have to admit that I am guilty of this myself.  I do check out certain people's profiles regularly to see what is going on in their lives, and I will admit I do this mainly to feel better about myself.  You can't lie, I know many of you do the same thing, come on admit it.

How many of us really know the people we are friends with online? Very few of us have actually met half of our virtual friends. I am one of the biggest culprits in this area. Out of my 6 742 Facebook friends I shamefully would have to admit that I know maybe 200 of them. From the 200 I probably have only met 50. Yet, on a daily basis I have an unadulterated bird’s eye view of their turmoil’s and joys of all of them and they have the same of mine - quite frightening if you sit back and think about it. Effectively we are sharing vast amounts of personal information about ourselves with perfect strangers and yes even with “cats”.

To a certain degree technology has made it easier for us to communicate. Whether you use Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, MSN, Skype, Google+ or any of the other platforms to stay in touch, the one thing you should really be asking yourself is whether these mediums are a better substitute for personal contact? Social networking websites have changed the way we connect with people but even though you can reach a friend or family member that’s on a different continent with the click of a mouse there still is a barrier between you, and the Internet will never be able to replace face-to-face personal contact or the warmth of a hug.

Till next time.

Jealous Much?

In a week’s time hubby and I will be leaving on a jet plane bound for New York City *Jumping with joy*.  And this trip could not have come at a better time.  Of late, walking into my office feels like walking into an Alfred Hitchcock movie and I am not always quite sure what the plot is or if I will make it out alive.  I am tired, stressed the fuck out and I am in some serious need of a change of scenery and where better to go than the Big Apple.  Seeing as we will only be there for a week, we needed to do some serious planning about what we wanted to do and what we wanted to see within the confines of the limited time we have to do it in.  So after much deliberation this is what hubby and I have agreed on.

We have booked our flights on Etihad Airways and being the opportunistic little shit that I am, I took the liberty to write to them and politely asked if they would be so kind as to upgrade our economy class tickets to business class for free.  Needless to say I have not heard back from them.  So I will take that as them saying to me “ROFL! Nice try, but NO!”  The flights promise to be grueling.  We depart from Johannesburg to Abu Dhabi on an eight hour flight.  Then there is a three hour layover before we get onto a fourteen hour flight to New York.  The return flights are not much better.  It pretty much is the same thing but to make matters slightly more uncomfortable, we only land back in Johannesburg at the ungodly hour of 04:25am.  Flying business class would have made the flights a little more comfortable, but not being millionaires we are stuck in cattle class. Fuck!

As for NYC from all the hotels we could choose from we decided to stay at the Yotel (NO, this is not a typo, it really is the hotel name).  We choose this hotel for three reasons: 1) The hotel has the quirky meets modern combination that I like and has free WiFi (which is essential for me) 2) The hotel is centrally located (practically on Time Square) and walking distance away from some of the places we want to go to and 3) It has a fucking fabulous terrace and they serve cocktails with brunch!  Seeing as we will be on a tighter schedule than Lady Gaga while on tour, I do suspect that we will not spend a whole lot of time in the hotel apart from sleeping there and drinking all those fantastic cocktails at brunch or happy hour.  But at least we know what to expect from the hotel and they are somewhat affordable.  So what do we plan to do while in NYC?

Like I said before we plan our trips with military precision (we are synchronizing our watches to NYC time as I type this).  If anything, hubby and I are pedantic bitches when it comes to itineraries and we had a good few heated discussion when we were busy deciding which touristy things we were going to do (FYI: a democratic voting system does NOT work when there are only two people involved in the voting process).  So after a few books and maps got hurled across the room in a dramatic drama queen fashion, we eventually came to a mutually agreeable itinerary that’s broken down into days and hours.  Don’t worry, I will not bore you with the fine print, I will just give you a general idea as to what we got planned for our own general safety.  You never know who is going to read this and I don’t want to get kidnapped by a stalker in New York never to be seen or heard off ever again.

One of the places I absolutely have to visit is The World Trade Centre and the National September 11 Memorial Museum.  I am not quite sure if the museum is open for the public yet though.  I lost a friend in the South Tower on 9/11 and I do feel a strong urge to go and pay my respects to her.  We also decided to go to Battery Park to see the Statue of Liberty.  We will not actually go to her as that will waste too many hours.  Besides I have been inside a woman once and I didn’t like it, so I have no urge to go inside Miss Liberty even if people are now allowed to do so again.  Seeing as we will be close to the financial district we will also go to Wall Street, if only to stare at all those folks who are “Occupying Wall Street”.  That should make for an interesting photo opportunity and I really do hope they are still there protesting while we are there.

Another important item on our list of things to do is going and spending half the day at the Guggenheim Museum.  They will be exhibiting Rineke Dijkstra’s “A Retrospective”, Kandinsky 1911-1913 and the Thannhauser Collection.  Naturally there are also a number of other art pieces that I want to see and I am really looking forward to it.  You also cannot go to New York and not see a Broadway show.  After some deliberation we settled on watching Mamma Mia.  It was really hard to choose which show to watch but, in the end, we chose the gayest one!  Who wants to see “Spiderman the Musical” anyway?  It just sounds stupid and like some performer is bound to get hurt.  Oh wait, that actually really happened.  Off Broadway also seemed like a good option but we won’t have time.

Being married to a Fashion Designer (a creative god and bat shit crazy genius at times) he insisted that we also work Parson: The New School for Design and Mood Designer Fabrics into our itinerary.  We both love Project Runway and this is our equivalent of the Sex and the City tour.  Also on the list is the Empire State Building.  I am terrified of heights so it should be interesting being on the 86^th Floor’s Observation Deck – I might throw up, so be warned people!  At least I know we will find the building really easily – we just have to look up, apparently you can’t miss it.  We will also be spending some time in Central Park, it’s really big and we have to work in a romantic horse carriage ride.  I know Peta and some New Yorkers have an issue with how the horses are treated and that it’s not ethical.  But hey, I don’t know when we will be in New York again, and this is on our must do “to do list”, so sorry.

Buildings and attractions are not the only touristy things that we plan on doing, we also want to go to certain well know neighborhoods and different New York Boroughs.  These include the now trendy Hell’s Kitchen, the Meat Packing District, Soho, Little Italy and China Town.  There is also plenty to do and see in Queens, Brooklyn and Bronx but I fear that we may only get to see Manhattan due to our time constraints.  I guess this is a pretty good and convincing excuse as to why we will need to visit New York again.

Yep, in a week’s time we will be in New York City and as you can see we are going to be fucking busy.  My iPad is uploaded with everything we need to make every second of our trip count:  Subway guides, Foodspotting for when we get hungry, The Essential New York Tourist Guide and plenty more.  I can’t remember the last time I was this excited for a trip and when last I had so many people green with envy.  New York here we come.  Hope you are ready for us bitches!

Till next time.

Are the Queers Being Exploited for Profit?

After being underwhelmed by last year’s Jo’burg Pride and being left feeling rather exploited, I decided to this year not attend Pride, rather opting to go to New York City instead.  After all, do I really want to attend another Gay Pride that clearly is a blatant rip off?  Well, the answer is NO and apparently I am not the only queer in South Africa that feels this way.

This week I have a quest blogger from the website The Modern L (Everything you wanted to know about being a modern lesbian! And now one of South Africa’s favorite online Lesbian Magazines), and this guest post was penned by The Miss Jones.

Profit vs People:

They say that the LGBTI Pride Parade is like Christmas for the gays. It’s the one day a year that everyone looks forward to, the day you spend weeks, if not months, planning your outfit, what you’re doing afterwards, and who you’re mincing with. You look forward to seeing all the colorful floats, what the cute stalls have on display and which eccentric outfits the qeens, bears and fairies will be wearing on the day. You make sure the batteries for your camera and phone are fully charged so you can look back at the day that was and reminisce about the fun you had.

I have attended the local Pride parade every year for exactly half my life, and the ones with the fondest memories, I have to admit, were the ones much earlier on in my life. Pride was always something I looked forward to and prepared for and I always felt inspired after attending the event.

Seeing the entire gay community standing together for a mutual cause, marching through the streets with a purpose, seeing the public wave and hoot as we pass, our straight friends and family walking alongside us in support, the qeens flinging insults and high heels at the happy clappy homophobes at the side of the road, and most importantly, being free to express yourself, your individuality and not just your sexuality is what Pride is and should be all about.

That was then…

In recent years there have been quite a lot of complaints and blogposts directed at the downward spiral pride parades all across the country are taking. And this should be cause for alarm to those who organize these get-togethers, but I don’t think this is sinking in just yet. Myself, and many others believe this is due to certain role players making the mistake of putting Profits over the pink People.

In the past I have driven and been on 4 floats, once on a motorcycle, I have walked with 5 charity organizations, walked for a cause twice and managed stalls on 2 occasions as well. In some years gone by, float and stall operators had to rock up for a meeting, pay a nominal admin fee, stick to the rules and Bob’s your auntie, you’re good to go! Ever wonder why there aren’t so many colorful floats and as many exciting stalls around? Why ten ton flatbeds decorated in the fabulous rainbow flag have been replaced by convertibles and bakkies? Why the stalls with the cheap trinkets and memorable memorabilia disappeared and have been replaced by overpriced junk you know you’ll never use again? Let’s take a look:

To have a float in the Jo’burg parade, you’re looking at up to 1500 bucks per float. The Durban parade up to and R1200 and the Mother City R50 to R250. Stalls in Jo’burg range between R450 and R1035 and Cape Town between R300 and R1000. There’s also the issue of the method of payment for these events and the so-called Pink Money they use as currency, which is non-refundable!

Then there’s the issue of refreshments on the day. We used to be able to take our own picnic baskets and refreshments, but at recent events, even bottled water has been confiscated at the gates. I distinctly remember standing in a queue for an hour and a half for Pink money at last year’s Pride, only to then stand in a two hour queue for a drink (that cost about twice as much as I would have paid at my local pub even now, a year later), and then not having enough energy to stand in another mile long queue for something to eat. The drinks vendor also did not stock what we preferred to drink so what’s the point? Look, I totally get why they would ban bringing in booze so they could sell their own, but why not let people bring in their own soft drinks, water and snacks?

So if people pay to operate stalls and floats, pay overwhelming amounts of money for food and booze and spend money to buy a currency they cannot get a refund on for essentially nothing and the organizers get cash from advertising packages and corporate sponsors, as well as sponsorship from service providers and artists, not to mention the rent-a-crowd they brought in by the busloads last year, it looks like Gay Pride has turned into another cog in the money making machine.

There are those that argue that money is needed for the organization and smooth running of the event, which is essential, but with the massive media coverage AND turnout Pride gets every year, sponsorships and advertising shouldn’t be that hard to come by and if insufficient funds are raised through advertising and sponsorship, organizers should really look into firing their PRO’s and marketing managers. The other argument is that they need to pay artists due to perform on the day. When I spoke to a very well-known female artist that performed at Pride a few years ago, she told me that she performed for free and that it was a tremendous honor to perform at the event. Other artists have told me that they’ve done the same in order to get exposure. And to be quite honest, apart from the artist I just mentioned, I don’t think I watched anyone else perform at Pride in the 15 years I’ve attended and no one I know has either. So why pay a so-called fortune for something no one really cares about?

Today I was told that apart from everything one has to pay for at Pride, the NMB Pride is charging an entrance fee to this year’s event and this has created a massive storm for the gay community in PE and no doubt it will cause many to boycott the event. For smaller cities, with their Pride parades still being in its infancy, this is definitely a step in the wrong direction. Pride is about people, not profits. About being free to be who and what you are or who you support and not about how deep organizers can dive into your pockets.

My point is this: Pride is turning into yet platform for the exploitation of the gay community. Some of my family members used to attend Pride with paper bags over their heads in fear of persecution way back when, and back in the day, some of my drag queen friends were jailed for wearing a disguise in public. They didn’t do that so someone could come along and make a quick buck off our community!

Follow The Modern L on Twitter by clicking HERE.

Or visit their website  www.themodernl.com.

Till next time.

Legalize Love

Visit Legalize Love and speak with one voice for Gay Marriage.

Spring & A Fat Ass Diet

Spring has finally arrived in my little speck of the world. The bees are buzzing, the birds are mating and every single last flower in my garden is producing enough pollen falling just short of sending me into anaphylactic shock. I am super allergic to pollen, grass, well pretty much everything related to spring. But allergies and animals having sexy time everywhere you look is not the only thing spring brings. Spring also brings a reality check. I, like most people I know, do tend to pack on some extra pounds during the winter months. And as we start shedding our winter jackets and sweaters revealing our lily white arms and legs which must see the sun in instalments, it also brings another revelation. And unfortunately for me my revelation was the fact that I have become fat!

The greater part of my Internet activity this past weekend was spent researching diets. You see, in just a few short months I need to be able to fit into my Speedo for our island holiday. Yes, you read correctly – my Speedo! I only wear it when I am not in South Africa and at places where there are people that I am sure I in all probability will never see again. During this winter I packed on a few extra unwanted pounds and to my horror discovered that I am starting to grow a second chin, a flabby gut and some god awful cellulite on my ass. It’s all very traumatising! And seeing as I have cancelled my gym subscription the only recourse I have left to my disposal is a diet. Either I go on a damn diet or make peace with the fact that I run the risk of looking like a beached whale in Madagascar in December.

Now, it should be noted that I have never been on a diet a day in my life. I don’t know how it works and prior to this I also didn’t really care either. But as I realized that a diet may be necessary, I consulted with my good old friend Google. There are millions of diets on the Internet ranging from well organized programs you can join with weekly weigh-ins (I don’t even own a scale by the way) to eating programs you can follow, some lasting only a couple of days and others lasting months. The more I read about diets the more it dawned on me that maybe it was not for me. I am far too lazy to measure out my food, pack three small lunches to take to work or having to go stand in my underwear on a scale in front of a bunch fat people only to be told I am fat too. My fragile self-esteem would be devastated.

Sure there are no fat evaporating fairies hiding in my summer closet, but diet – bitch please. I just can’t imagine myself having to stuff my face with shit that taste like cardboard, not eat carbs and having to swop my fizzy drink for bottled water. That’s like being a contestant on Survivor but without the million dollars. Furthermore, if I don’t eat potatoes at least 5 times a week the world will end. Not to mention having to swop my red meat with fish and/or skinless chicken, having to give up my gravies, sauces and other fattening condiments that I love so much. Oh my God, a diet will kill me!

For a brief two days I must admit I did ponder on the idea of bulimia. On the one side you can eat what you want and as much of it as you want. But on the down side you have to vomit and I hate vomiting. So I shut that idea down as it requires too much commitment and too much time spent in the toilet hurling. Anorexia was eliminated from the onset as an option for obvious reasons. So with half a cheesecake taunting me in my fridge, I sat down yesterday further contemplating my dwindling options. Clearly the diet thing was not going to work for me. Diets have too many rules, gets up in your business too much and have the distinct notion of starvation and supervision that is as unappealing to me as is the cellulite on my rear end. So what am I to do?

Having had Plastic Surgery earlier this year and still having my surgeon’s number on my speed dial, just a number higher than that of my Botox dispenser, I considered bypassing the whole starve yourself thing and fast forward to liposuction. Why starve yourself and munch on a salad that does not constitute a dinner (according to me) when you can have all that fat sucked out in less than an hour. The only problem with that is I cannot afford it! Damn you economy! Damn you! As my elation turned into a gluttonous cheesecake feeding frenzy, my extra pounds were weighing down more than just my flab. Rather disconsolate I walked to the mirror and gave myself a good stare down. The edges of my mouth still covered in crumbs of the cheesecake that was delicious I must say, I looked at myself and made a decision.

I have gained a few pounds over winter and the only reason I gained the weight was because of bad eating habits. Crisps is not food and neither is a snicker bar or chocolate milkshake. I made a choice the change my eating habits. And no, it will not be a diet but rather a conscious choice to eat healthier: More fruits and vegetables, less McDonalds and Kentucky Fried Chicken, less frying and more steaming and grilling. Whether my conscious decision to change my eating habits will see me shed those extra pounds, only time will tell. But one thing is for damn sure, I will not be on some fat ass diet.

Till next time.

Beer ~ The Miracle Diet Drink

My Bucket List

In less than 25 days hubby and I will be leaving on a jet plane for New York City.  I am so excited I can barely contain myself.  NYC is one of the places on my bucket list that I want to see and experience before I die.  Taking into consideration that we will only be in NYC for one week and with a gazillion things that we want to do, I suspect there will be a lot of caffeine consumed during that time and very little to no sleep to be had.  I have downloaded several apps on my iPad especially for this trip ranging from where to eat to an app that helps you navigate the subway and other public transportation systems.  I am not going to get lost in NYC and waste valuable time in a confused panic.  This bitch is prepared for everything and I plan on squeezing every last drop of fun out of this experience even if it theoretically kills me.

Like most folks I know, I also have a bucket list and luckily for me there remain a lot of things on that list that I want to do.  I guess it is like my secret insurance policy that I have that keeps me from dying young.  As long as the list exists, the longer I have to remain on this earth burdening you all with my mind meanderings.  I have done many things on my bucket list thus far, some out of choice and others not so much.  I have been to Egypt, Madagascar, Kenya and Luxembourg.  I have ridden Arabian horses next to the pyramids, dived with wild sea turtles, met Nelson Mandela, been on the news and even jumped out of an airplane in the dead of night screaming like a ten year old girl while I received training at the Army. Yes, contrary to popular believe I am butch like that.

Some things I have done that were on my bucket list, I can’t divulge on my blog seeing as family members and certain colleagues read it therefore it shall remain a secret.  However, I can admit that I have also had sex on the beach once locally and twice internationally.  I have been mauled by a tiger, I have played with lion cups, even handled an adult female leopard, fed giraffes and played with baby elephants.  Most things that I have achieved on my bucket list brings a smile to my face, but then there are some things on my bucket list that I did not volunteer for and that I do not recall putting on it.

Life is always full of surprises and in my case life sometimes have a warped sense of humor, like that one time that I accidentally got high on liquid E.  You see, hubby and I got invited to go and watch a drag show in Johannesburg.  We were still in our twenties and it was a week night, but being young and irresponsible we went.  Halfway through the show somebody bought us shooters and without thinking twice we downed it.  It wasn’t long before I noticed a very weird sensation pulsating through my body.  It felt like my nerve endings were tingling and I was getting Goosebumps.

After the show ended we decided to stay and dance and for some queer reason I felt like I loved the whole world and the whole world loved me.  I was euphoric and in a hugging mood.  We were having a gay old time until 2am the next morning.  We were higher than Charlie Sheen in a Vegas hotel room and we didn’t even know it.  Not even my quavering jaw or the grinding of my teeth alerted me that something was wrong.  I was blissfully unaware that I was in fact tripping on E.  It wasn’t until the drive home that hubby and I realized something was amiss.  Arriving home at 3am and having to get up for work at 6am, still tripping our faces off wasn’t any fun.  Needless to say we have never since accepted shooters from anyone at a bar, nightclub or restaurant ever again.

And then there was that time that I got crabs.  It was before I met my husband and I was going through what you can call a “promiscuous phase”.  I had just broken off a two year relationship and was making up for lost time.  I vividly remember the evening I discovered that I had crabs.  I was sitting on my bed and I was itching in the crotch area.  I didn’t think much of it until I scratch and then felt something that shouldn’t be there.  I took off my pants, picked this little thing up between my fingers and on closer inspection I saw it had feet and it was alive.  Horrified, I searched my private area and discovered more.  I was utterly shocked and distraught!  “WHAT THE FUCK?!” I remember screaming.  “There are things living on my balls!!!”  Not knowing what to do, I phoned my friend.  Crying I tried to explain to him the calamity I found in my pants “I think I might have crabs” to which he responded “You either have crabs or you don’t, there’s nothing like I might have, check your balls again!”  So I did.

I had crabs and I needed to go to the doctor.  Being 20, young and naïve I didn’t know that any old lice shampoo could sort me out so I had to embarrass myself even further.  Sitting in the doctor’s office the next day, terribly ashamed of myself, I told him what I had.  He wanted to examine the “affected area” but I rudely refused.  Then he gave me a speech about STD’s and safe sex and then promptly had me tested for every STD known to mankind.  It was a horrifying 5 day wait, but eventually I got called back to his office and told that I had no STD’s but that he hoped that I have learned my lesson.  Since then every time my crotch area itches it reminds me that I once had a hundred unwelcome house guests attached to my balls and that I never wanted them to visit me ever again.

Not all things I have on my bucket list are always necessarily fun.  Sometimes you have to experience certain unpleasant things and that is called the Bucket List Life has for you.  Still on my personal bucket list is that I want to tour France, visit a non homophobic Russia, swim with wild dolphins, have my travel ban to Uganda uplifted, win the lottery and many more.  But for now we are going to NYC, the city that never sleeps and I plan on painting the town pink.  One week of unadulterated tourist fun is in my immediate future and I am ecstatic.  I am sure when we are back that jetlag is going to be a bitch, but I don’t care – at least we have seen the Big Apple. NYC checked!

Till next time.