Don't Tell Me You're Gay

This week I decided to publish my favorite guest blogger GeeGee Curtained from the Two Fat Cows fame.  She is possibly the biggest Fag Hag this side of the equator and this week she shares with us a few little opinions about drag queens, guys keeping it on the DL (down low), and those queens that are so deep in the closet they would need a team of firefighters to Out them.

Daaarlings!!

As you very well know, I’m a HUGE fan of drag queens because they’re like fuck you butterflies who don’t give a shit what anyone thinks about them and I LOVE my gay friends to pieces – they’re so much fun! I’m not usually one to judge, but seriously dollies, few things irritate me as much as a closet queen. I mean really, who are they kidding? And their wives... oh dolls, their wives... have they been lobotomised or are they so far down that river called denial (not the one in Egypt) that they don’t know their men prefer cock when it’s so painfully obvious to everyone else?

I was sitting in the lounge the other day when an agent brought some people round to view the house when it was still on the market. All I saw through the window was a fabulously flamboyant man limp-wristing, mincing, lisping, prancing and dancing through the garden and I thought “great, done deal, this house is a party palace, perfect for a gay couple... whoohooo” Happy bubble burst 5 minutes later when his wife (!) who looked like a little brown sparrow next to him walked in carrying a baby on her hip. I have a sneaky suspicion that my jaw did actually drop. Now, seriously, the Rabbit Hole downstairs is the best party place and man cave ever, and when the agent showed the man the pub he barely looked at it twice and I swear I could see a speech bubble above his head saying “bitch please, i don’t drink at home, I go cruising for cock”

I had a friend for many years, Himself always said her toes looked like slap chips, but I digress. Anyway, she was dating a man in his 30’s for four years and all he ever did was kiss her. Once. This man took her to see all the best musical theater productions *jazz hands*, took it upon himself to be her stylist, shopped with her at all the best boutiques... wonderful, yes. For a gay best friend. She could never understand why she was told that rule # 1 was Never. Visit. Unannounced. Oh puuuh-lease, that’s because he's having ‘special time’ with his ‘special friends’. Angels, she honestly thought he never tried to put moves on her because he respected her! Poor thing was devastated when he came out to her and to this day she is trying to pray the gay out of him.... Bless!

I have another friend I’ve known for almost 20 years who shall remain nameless – one of my drag queen friends has dubbed him the ‘Jimmy Swaggart Faggot’ because he’s ‘born again’. (By the way, the same drag queen told me he always knows when a potential lover is 'straight' or married if the guy asks him to keep his bra and high heels on in bed...) Anyhoo, for the first 5 years we were friends I accepted him as gay. I did his make-up, we played dress up, great fun. Imagine my surprise when he introduced his girlfriend to us one day, I almost choked on my vodka. So, they get married and they have 2 kids. He swears to me that he’s straight. I pretend to believe him. 3 months ago he’s visiting with us when Hawtentawt comes rushing into the pub with eyes as big as saucers. Mr ‘Straight’ went to stand behind Hawtentawt outside and started fondling his ears, then asked him if they could meet up at Q-Bar – a gay bar here in town! Personally I think Hawts could have taken one for the team so that I could out that fucker once and for all. It just pisses me off that he has huge opinions on homosexuality and religion / adoption / marriage – to the point where we have stand up arguments and then he’s so deeply fucking closeted he hasn’t seen anything but dust bunnies for years!

I guess the moral of the story is be yourself, be true to yourself, respect yourself and the world will do the same back – and if they don’t, well fuck them.

Geexxx

Like GeeGee on Facebook by clicking HERE

Follow GeeGee on Twitter by clicking HERE

Gay Bashing at a Gay Club: How Safe Are We Really?

Homophobia and gay bashings are nothing new.  It is sad that it still occurs in this day and age, but unfortunately there are some idiots out there who express their ignorance and crudity through violence that is directed at the LGBT community.  One would never expect that a gay bashing would occur at a gay club or that the perpetrators would be employees of that nightclub.  But this is exactly what allegedly occurred at a nightclub called Rasputin in Pretoria over this weekend.  What makes this incident even worse is the fact that the manager of this nightclub allegedly stood by and watched the assault take place without intervening or even calling the police.  This led me to wonder, how safe are we really at the nightclub Rasputin or any other gay club for that matter.

During the early hours of Saturday morning Pieter Henning was assaulted by two straight men at Rasputin.  The assault was so severe that he was hospitalized and had to undergo surgery.  Judging from the graphic photos that he posted on his Facebook page the assault was vicious.  The alleged perpetrators also kick and damaged his car trying to gain access to the occupants who then finally managed to call the police.  All of this occurred allegedly in plain sight of the club manager, who simply locked the club’s door and watched the assault take place from inside the club, failing to intervene or to call for assistance.

Whether this assault was provoked or not I am not sure, but the level of violence that took place was most certainly unacceptable.  After hearing of this gay bashing I attempted to contact the club owner and manager as I had some questions I wanted to ask them.  Questions like:  why nobody acted to stop the attack; whether they had any security measures to ensure the safety of their patrons; whether the assailants was indeed employees of the club; why they had not implemented any measures to prevent gay bashings at their venue as this was not the first time something like this has happened there; and whether it was true that gay bashings were apparently a frequent occurrence at their establishment.  The club owners did respond but was rather vague which led me to wonder whose responsibility is it really to ensure the safety of patrons at gay venues.

Surely the owners and managers of nightclubs have a responsibility to ensure the safety of their patrons.  We all know that if we enter clubs that we do so at our own risk, but should you suffer an injury that is a direct result of negligence of the club owner, manager or staff should they not be held accountable and forced to take responsibility?  If they are aware of problems and fail to correct them or at the very least not even try and put preventative measures in place, what does that say about what they think about or even feel for their patrons?  Would that be a place you’d feel safe to frequent and spend your hard earned money at?  I think not.

There are many gay clubs out there that make a point of ensuring their patrons are safe.  They do this with bouncers and security guards who at the first hint of trouble would intervene.  Sure they can’t always keep problematic people out because at first they don’t look like trouble and the trouble only starts after a few drinks, but at least they are there.  The other big problem is the fact that gay clubs are not only frequented by gay people, but by straight people too.  Don’t get me wrong, I do appreciate heterosexuals who support the LGBT community and they are very welcome at any of our gay establishments.  The problem comes in when straight folks who are in fact severely infected with homophobia go to gay venues not to support us but to make trouble.  I have seen this many times and it never ends well.

The management of Rasputin is holding a meeting on Wednesday to discuss this problem.  They said that they would not get involved in any mudslinging and promised free shooters to all the attendees.  Quite ironic seeing as they blame alcohol for most of the problems they experience there.  I find it rather insulting that a guy must first be gay bashed and end up in hospital before this nightclub would admit that there is problem and instead of fixing the problem they call a meeting.  This seems more like a “let’s soothe the gays and hope they get over it” rather than actually spending money on security, bouncers and keeping out or even firing homophobes.  The management of Rasputin blames the economy for not having any security measures in place such as bouncers, so I guess Pieter Henning should blame the economy too for being gay bashed.

Would I go to Rasputin, well my personal feeling is a resounding NO.  I have a huge problem with spending money at any establishment who do not respect me or my business enough to use some of the money they make off me and my LGBT brothers and sister to ensure our safety.  So how safe are we really when going to gay clubs, well I guess that would largely depend on where you go.  If the nightclub doesn’t have any bouncers, security guards or any other safety measure in place chances are that sooner or later something bad will happen there.  Look, I am not advocating that anyone boycott any establishment, I am only urging you to make informed decisions about where you go and how safe it is.  It’s your choice to make after all.

Till next time.

I Want to be a Skinny Bitch

I have never done well with New Year resolutions, particularly not if they involved food or exercise.  New Year’s resolutions have always seemed to me like a wish list that seemed a good idea at the time, after a few glasses of champagne and some misguided optimism.  To date, I have had a 100% failure rate when it came to sticking to or even seeing through these “resolutions”.  But this year I am determined that it will be different.  You see, I firmly believe that my body is on a 5 year cycle.  I have 5 fat years and then 5 thin years and 2013 is the start of my thin cycle.  I know it sounds strange but trust me it’s true.  I am fat and it is time to fight the bulge and get back into shape.

Gaining weight is sneaky.  It happens gradually and sometimes you hardly notice it.  Yes, you start to realize something is happening when you have to hold your breath when putting on those jeans, when your cat falls off the couch while lying next to you because it’s running out of space and when you are growing a second chin.  But denial is a very powerful weapon in my psychological arsenal as is rationalization.  Over the last three years I have noticed that I was gaining weight but I told myself it was healthy, that nobody likes skinny bitches anyway and that I was only five stomach flues away from my goal weight.  Sure I had to go up a size with my shirts and pants but that’s all part of growing older and being big boned, right?  Well, no!

You see the turning point came a few weeks ago when we had the family over for Christmas lunch.  It was a beautiful day and perfect for lounging next to the pool.  Naturally hubby was taking pictures, as he always does, but what I didn’t know was that I was in a few of those pictures.  When I decided to look through those festive photos I got the shock of my life.  I was horrified to see myself sitting on the couch, shirtless looking like an albino whale.  I almost died.  So I deleted it.  But that was not the worst of it.  A few days ago, while in the pool hubby pointed out my belly button.  I will not nauseate you with the graphic details but suffice to say it was an eye opener.  At this point I started resenting the pool as I was convinced that only bad things and terrible revelations are made there.

Having had my go to option of denial shattered into little fat pieces I did the only thing I could at the time.  I sat on the shower floor and cried like a little disturbed child who just survived Chernobyl.  All those crisps, chocolates, cheeses, breads, hotdogs and fries that I ate flashed in front of my eyes and the shower water rained down on me like a calorie hail storm.  I had nobody to blame but myself for the extra of me there was to love.  I had to make peace with the fact that I was fat and I had to decide what I was going to do about it.  Am I going to let myself go, become morbidly obese and possibly develop diabetes and get heart problems?  Or am I going to put my big girl panties on and do something about it.  It may seem like a clear cut decision, but I promise you it wasn’t.

The only things in life I hate more than homophobic religious nut cases are diets and exercise.  Both feel like punishment and both make me cranky as fuck!  You can’t tell me that there are actually people out there that like being hungry and tired all the time and that they do it to themselves on purpose.  I also don’t like to sweat and I despise rice cakes.  But, hey if I want to lose the extra Backstreet Boy that I gained over the last few years I don’t have much of a choice, now do I?  So I decided that I was not going to “let myself go” and that I would hire a personal trainer, go see a dietician and loose the weight.  But that is easier said than done.

You see I am one stubborn bitch and if I am getting a personal trainer that person must have a strong personality and have a high tolerance for whining, bitching, moaning and possibly crying.  I need a person who will be able to push me, motivate me, put me in my place and be able to tell me to suck it up and shut up.  In other words I need a bitch with compassion.  I am sure you are out there somewhere!  I have realistic expectations and I know that I won’t lose all the results of my shameful culinary gluttony in a month or even two months, but the important thing is that I just need to get started.  I also don’t expect to have the body of a Greek God in six months but God knows I will try.

So let’s all agree that this is NOT a New Year’s resolution but rather a lifestyle adjustment, an investment in my health and an attempt to reconcile my negative perception of our pool of shame.  They say nothing looks as good as skinny feels.  I haven’t been skinny in 15 years so I kind of forgot if that is true.  Next week the hunt for a personal trainer starts and my diet commences.  If you eat anything delicious looking near me expect a filthy stare and if you see a cranky sweaty bitch it will probably be me.

Till next time.

Sam Jensen. Remember his name.

A while back GeeGee Curtained sent me a link to a music track and insisted that I listen to it.  She told me that she discovered a new up and coming talent and she was very enthusiastic to share her find.  I had the opportunity to listen to Sam Jensen's "Living in the now" and it reminded me of a very special New Year's Eve I had on the island of Madagascar. It's rare that music you have never heard before can take you on a journey and allow you to reminisce and recall such incomparable memories. I then realized that GeeGee was right, she indeed made a discovery of a young and very talented man and I am thrilled to share her interview with Sam Jensen on my blog with you today.

What inspired you to compose and record ‘Day Dreams Last Forever’?

Yay an interview! Well I’ve enjoyed making music since I was a small boy playing with broken tape recorders, to now with my little studio setup with computers, synthesizers and recording instruments and equipment. For my last album, Daydreams Last Forever, I listened to some of the music around me that inspired me, like some of the successful Dance and Trance DJ’s like David Guetta, Avicii or DJ Tiesto, and made some music of my own. I’ve always been a dreamer, so I thought the album name Daydreams Last Forever was appropriate for that Trancey Dancey ‘let-the-music-take-me-away’ sound I was going for. Each song I listened to many times over and went back to my studio to keep changing it until I felt 100% happy with every moment. So I hope people listening feel the love I put into each note.

Where does your passion for music come from?

I don’t really know. I guess it’s partially genetic.  Lots of music genes in my family. Or maybe it started when I was 5, when my dad would sit me in front of the record player and play classical pieces and we would imagine stories to each piece of music we were hearing. And as the music got more intense, so would our imagination! Also in High School when I remixed the sacred school song into a disco version for fun, and sang it in assembly on the last day of school, seeing the whole school stand up and applaud and cheer,  made me think I want more of that in my life!

When did you start dj’ing and how old are you now?

I’m 28. They say I look 24. Although sometimes I feel 42 when work gets hectic. I only started DJ’ing recently. I always thought DJ’ing was ‘too easy’ because you just play other people’s music. But now I’m learning there’s a skill behind reading the crowd and playing the right songs at the right time.

Where do you see your love of music taking you?

I’m hoping for a hit on the radio one of these days, and hopefully someday I’ll tour around if people like my music. And if they don’t, I’ll just work harder.

What equipment do you use and do you have a studio at home?

I have a home studio, where most of the work is done on my computer. I use Reason 4 to make the drums, bass, synths and other music sounds. Then I have keyboards and guitars which I use to add layers of extra music, and I use Protools 9 to record the singers and do the final mastering.

Do you have any advice to give aspiring composers/dj’s like yourself?

Yes. “Just start!” So many composers are “waiting for inspiration” or waiting to buy some piece of equipment or software first before they start. They love to call themselves “Producers” at the pubs and have blingy profile pics on Facebook, but they’ve never finished one song! The truth is: your first song will sound crap. But your 99^th song will sound brilliant, no matter what gear you’re using. So you just need to get cracking . . . today!

Do you have a day job or do you dj full time and where can your fans hear you play?

I’m a qualified electrician by day. I work for myself. That pays my rent, and has been paying for the music production up to now. That’s right. My last CD cost me thousands of rands for singers and CD printing etc, and I had to do it in the evenings after long days of electrical work. So people who say they want to also make music “but they have JOBS” don’t really have an excuse. I’m DJ’ing next on New Year’s Eve at the Worcester Yacht Club. Going to be a blast!

Are you available to play private gigs?

I’m always contactable on my email, sam@musicsoundtracks.co.za, and my DJ’s gigs and range in price depending on how much equipment and lights I must rig up, or if it’s already provided.

Where can we buy your new cd?

It can be ordered through me directly via my email, or on my Facebook, and I’ll post a copy.

Some of your new fans want to know if you’re single?

Haha. Yes, I’m single. I’ve been in a few relationships, but people struggle to relate to me because I’m such a dreamer. And I don’t want people holding me back. So single for now it is.

What are the top 5 songs you listen to on your iPod right now?

1)      Psy - Gangnam Style

2)      Avicii – Levels (ooh ooh sometimes I get a good feeling . . .yeah!)

3)      Mark Knight – Downpipe

4)      One Direction – What makes you Beautiful

5)      Taio Cruz – Dynamite

What’s your favourite cocktail?

The Sam Jensen Cocktail, at this point in time, is Brandy and Coke with lots of ice and a dash of Monster Energy Drink in it. Not sure if you can call that a cocktail, but it sure works for me!

Thanks for your time to interview me, GeeGee. Was great fun!

Sam also sent me 2 links for your listening pleasure with the message 'That'll get 'em bouncing...' Hehehe... Gotta love him, right? 

For a Dance song click here: Living in the now

For a Trance song click here: Dew Drops

No review would be complete without some feedback so I asked a few people for their opinion on his music and this is what they said:

'We love to party and we love dance music, we also have a soft spot for local DJ's and hot new talent and what Sam Jensen has to offer definitely didn't disappoint!  He's got talent, and buckets of it! We look forward to seeing what's next from Sam!' - The Modern L

'It's not hard to listen to at all... Very summery, on the beach. I could also imagine it as part of a movie/TV soundtrack.' - Author Devon Marshall

'His sound is unique, certainly a fresh sound coming out of South Africa. Not copying music from what I have heard locally or internationally...' - Dj LeatherSatyr

'Very cool, I'd be interested in hearing some more of his stuff, I personally like it a bit harder and darker.  I am also looking for someone to write some new dance music for me and Sam will be hearing from me' - Terry Tiger Victor

 'Sam Jensen is so one of the best upcoming young dj's I have heard in a long time... I talked GeeGee into loaning me that CD for the 'weekend' and it's stuck in my car radio.  Well, that's my story and I'm sticking to it!  I just wonder who's going to pay all the speeding fines I'm sure are coming my way - Sam's music has a way of  giving me a lead foot!' - Shannon Stacey

 'A very fresh and clear cut sound. Its high tempo that is easy to listen to and at the same time, great music that gets your heart pumping and your feet moving.' - Rowan Pounce Poole

2012: The Good, the Bad & the Ugly.

General consensus among my friends is that 2012 was a rather shitty year.  This year was shitty for different people for different reason.  I for one am rather relieved that I survived 2012, albeit it a little worse for wear, but I survived!  As life goes, 2012 posed a few challenges for me but it wasn’t all bad.  Sure I suffered a Panic Attack and now rely on certain prescription chemical, but isn’t this all part of living in a world that sometimes goes bat shit crazy and is a rat race with no finishing line? As I take this opportunity to reflect on some of my highlights and low-lights of 2012 I cannot help but wonder, will 2013 be better?

As some of you know 2012 didn’t start off that entirely great for me.  Sure I welcomed in the New Year on the island of Madagascar and spent a glorious 11 carefree days there, but my holiday ended in a disaster culminating in The Day I Almost Died.  I never in my wildest dreams imagined that I would ever end up being a “medical emergency” thirty thousand feet in the air, but I did!  I was suffering from double pneumonia.  My holiday ended with me landing back in South Africa, going straight to the Emergency Room and being admitted to hospital for 5 fucking days.  The perfect start to 2012, don’t you think?

Apart from narrowly escaping death this year I also dabbled in some diet pills.  You see I am a sucker for anything that can help you lose weight that doesn’t require any exercise or dieting.  After all, I am about five stomach flues away from my goal weight!  So when some Chinese Weight Loss Pills promised that I would lose weight without any effort I jumped at the chance.  These pills have since been taken off the market because they are “dangerous” and I am still ten kilograms overweight.  Fuck!  We also had to fire another housekeeper this year.  It is really difficult to find good Help these days.  In the last two years we had about five housekeepers with The Sleuth, The Bitch and The Sloth being the worst of them.  Luckily, we finally found one who might be a keeper, let’s cross our fingers that she does not end up being some deranged serial killer down the road.  I would hate for one of my body parts to end up being a souvenir in her basement.

Speaking of serial killers, this year I also, to my utter horror, discovered that I was friended on Facebook by a Psycho Killer.  I was friends with Luca Rocco Magnotta.  The same guy who killed his boyfriend, videotaped the murder and then proceeded to cut the corpse into pieces and then mailed certain body parts to Canadian politicians.  Yes, I can really pick them!  He eventually got arrested and I learned how to use Facebook’s block function.  This really made me reconsider who I will accept as friends on Facebook, if I ever again get my friend list below 5000.  There really are some sick fucks out there and I made it abundantly clear on many occasions that, NO, I don’t want to be friends with people whose profile picks are their genitals or people who use Facebook as their personal sex hookup site.  I don’t want to friend your cock!

This year I also had a minor procedure done, you know the kind that delays the effects of time and ageing.  Sometimes Botox and the oils of delay aren’t enough and you need a little extra help.  This is when I learned that sometimes Beauty Equals Pain.  This year I also had an iBreakup.  I finally mustered up the courage to dump BlackBerry and switched to iPhone for good.  This breakup was long overdue and I know BlackBerry must be upset, but hey, life is a bitch and sometimes you have to put your big girl panties on and deal with it!

As for travel, this was a great year for that.  No disasters, no being harassed by customs officials and no diversions to godforsaken airports due to “weather problems'.  This year hubby and I went to New York City and this was most definitely one of the highlights of my year.  I loved the Big Apple and we took one hell of a big bite out of the city we instantly fell in love with.  Sure my public toilet phobia did harass me once again, but hey, even I can sometimes will the power to temporarily overcome certain of my eccentricities!  Another highlight this year was the opportunity to be only a few feet away from one of my idols – Lady Gaga!  A group of us attended The Born this Way Ball; this was the first time Lady Gaga toured South Africa and Johannesburg couldn’t get enough of her.  This was one of the most exciting days I had in 2012!  I love that bitch!

Two blog posts that I am particularly proud of this year is one of my pet projects:  Through the years I have been collecting old pictures of Gay and Lesbian couples spanning over 100 years.  100 Years of Gay Couples and 100 Years of Lesbian Couples are particularly dear to my heart as they show that we have really been around forever, even before it became “popular”.  We sure have come a long way with LGBTI rights over the last 100 years, but we have a long way to go still.  There still are some bigoted homophobes out there.  This year I lost my shit with one such homophobe named Pastor Oscar Peter Bougardt and I ended up successfully reporting him to the South African Human Rights Commission for hate speech.  Presently, they are still investigating the matter.  Then there were also the Light of the Nations Church and their stupid billboard which we managed to get removed.  Small victories, you might say, but it is with these small victories that the battle will be won.

No year and no life would be complete without pets.  Yes, President Jacob Zuma said having and caring for pets is “un-African” but I say fuck that!  I love My Cat from Hell and hubby and I do have what some could classify as being a zoo.  This year our furry family became even furrier with the addition of two bunnies who likes to pee on you and a tortoise.  Currently, we are one gay donkey away from having to move to a farm.  Unfortunately, this year also brought a tragedy with an accident that killed Alexi.  It was a sad and traumatic day but we made it through it. Rest in Peace Alexi!

Yes, 2012 was a rather shitty year but on the bright side, at least we survived another Apocalypse! 2012 taught me that even though life sometimes throws challenges our way we can all overcome these and the manner in which we overcome these challenges builds character, shows integrity and makes one stronger.  Sure this year was rather tough but my saving grace this year was my sense of humor and my ability to sometimes not take life too seriously and to take a moment to laugh at myself.  After all without laughter life would be oh so dreary and I prefer to stay on the delightful side of life, if I can.  So cheers to 2012.  You have been one motherfucking bitch who kicked me in the balls three times this year, but hey I love myself some bitchiness sometimes.  Let’s hope 2013 is better.  Happy New Year Bitches!

Till next time.

10 Rules / Tips for Christmas

Here are a few rules / tips for Christmas

1) You are going to gain a few pounds deal with it! That's why we have new years resolutions.
2) Don't dress up your pets! They may look cute, but trust me they will resent you for the rest of the year.
3) No matter what gifts you get, look surprised and happy (Botox helps with this)! You can always recycle that gift again next year.

4) Every family has a pink elephant, the aunt that got really fat, the bastard child or the odd face-lift! Christmas dinner is neither the best time nor the best place to introduce this into conversation no matter how dull the conversation is.

5) If you plan on "Coming Out", don't do it in a Santa's costume. This will NOT soften the blow and it will ruin Santa's wholesome image.
6) No party tricks! It may seem a good idea in your head but in reality you will make an ass of yourself.
7) Always wear underwear! This is essential and not just for Christmas.8) Be nice! We may not like all of our family, but the nice thing about Christmas is that you only have to see them once a year.
9) Don't drink and drive! I treasure all my blog readers and I don't want to loose the few of you!
10) The most important rule of them all - BE FABULOUS!!!

(Wishing Everyone a Blessed Christmas.)

If Santa was Gay

This is just too hilarious to keep to myself. Santa Bear and the 7 Gay Elves.

Which one of the elves would you be?

I don’t want to be Susan Lucci!

From the hideous badge on top of my blog you can probably deduce that it is that time of year again.  Against my better judgment I unwittingly entered to 2012 SA Blog Awards.  You see, I thought I was re-registering on their website and BAM, my blond predisposition caused me to enter this silly blog awards again.  Since I started my blog (almost 4 years ago, yes it has been that long) I have always managed to be nominated but I have never actually managed to win.  This has led me to believe that I am the Suzan Lucci of the blogosphere.  This year I have been nominated in two categories, Best Lifestyle/ Entertainment Blog and Best Political Blog (because of all the shit I cause for homophobes).  Will my Susan Lucci curse be broken this year?  Will you help me break it?  If you do, then please click on the hideous badge and vote or CLICK HERE.  Also don’t forget to confirm your vote.  Voting closes on 28 December 2012.  

Losing a pet is hard. Accidentally reversing over one is worse.

This past weekend our house was the scene of a tragic accident.  So tragic, that after it happened I could barely speak due to shock and sadness.  It is never a pleasant experience to lose a family pet, especially not if it was, in part, your own fault.  So still somewhat distraught from the emotional cocktail of sadness, grief and guilt. I thought it appropriate to use my blog as a platform for a much needed catharsis to help me overcome the tragic death of our beloved bunny Alexi.

R.I.P. Alexi

For those who read my blog regularly will know that all our pets are like our children.  And even though we do have quite a large family, by any standards, we love all our children equally.  When we got our bunnies just over two months ago I never imagined that one of them would die so soon.  I have always been pretty pedantic about the safety of all our animals, anal-retentive about making sure they have a healthy and well balanced diet and that they are both physically and emotionally in good shape.  Up until this weekend this have served me well, but as some people will tell you who has also gone through something similar, it only takes one slip-up and a split second for an accident to happen and in our case it was lethal.

You see, on Saturday our gardener came.  As per usual he was lectured about keeping the front door to our property closed at all times.  He was also lectured on keeping the sliding door that leads to the garage closed at all times and that he should make sure the bunnies does not go in there when he is fetching gardening tools.  The man has the IQ of a turnip and the attention span of a gold fish and usually only 10% of what you tell him sinks in.  Unfortunately on Saturday that 10% was not in favor of the bunnies.  His presence on our property would proof to be lethal for Alexi.

At around 10:00 hubby was on his way to the mall.  He entered the garage; saw that the sliding door leading to the garage was closed.  He got into his car, opened the garage door, reversed out and left.  About thirty minutes later our gardener came and knocked on the door.  I asked him what he needed and then he uttered the seven words that completely ruined the rest of my day.  He said “There is a bunny dead in garage.”  When I got to the garage I was completely unprepared for what I was about to see.

On the ground lay Alexi in a pool of his own blood.  It was clear that hubby drove over him and that Alexi was killed instantly.  Not wanting to have a complete emotional meltdown in front of the help (I am not that dramatic), I asked him to take the body to our vegetable garden and leave him there.  I walked back into the house and sobbed like a baby.  When I finally could compose myself I phoned hubby and told him what had happened.  During the call I found it difficult to find the right words.  “It was an accident and accidents happen” I remembered telling hubby who was devastated at what he had done.  We both felt an extreme sense of loss and guilt for failing to protect Alexi from harm.  It felt like we failed him.  We felt like horrible parents!

After I managed to get my bearings again, I proceeded to go to Alexi’s body and washed off most of the blood.  Bunnies have a strange way of grieving and when one of them dies the remaining bunny(s) need to spend time with the deceased bunny’s body in order to grieve and say goodbye.  This is exactly what I did for Halina.  She spent time with Alexi and did that little dance they do.  Eventually she gave him a final gentle lick and came and sat on my lap with her back turned to Alexi’s corpse.  The rest of the day it was clear that Halina was grieving and that she missed her friend.  Her pain and loss was mirrored in us.  My heart was broken just like Alexi’s bones.  The only consolation was that at least he did not suffer.

Later that day, hubby and I decided that we should bury Alexi in his favorite spot in the garden.  In South Africa this is illegal, but I decided to say fuck you to the municipal bylaws and we did it anyway.  By late afternoon hubby had dug a hole and Alexi was laid to rest.  It was a somber yet dignified affair.  Alexi is the first pet that we had to bury at our house since we have moved there and hopefully we will not have to have another pet funeral in some years to come.  In the two months that we knew Alexi he brought us nothing but joy, he was a funny little bun, full of life and he was naughty as hell.  We will never forget him.

Bunnies are social animals and need a companion.  Seeing as hubby and I work the whole day and that Halina would be alone in her day cage for most of the day, we decided to find her a new companion.  So we bought the five week old Vladimir.  He’s still a baby bunny and I was very concerned that Halina would reject him or even, God forbid, fight with him.  When we introduced him to her, Halina pretty much ignored him.  As they spent more time together they seemed to become more relaxed around each other.  On Sunday night Halina acknowledged Vladimir’s presence for the first time by spending a full hour trying to dry hump him.  She did this to establish her dominance over him seeing that bunny families are matriarchic.  After an hour of being dry humped Vladimir eventually submitted and this was followed by a protracted mutual grooming session.

Losing a pet is hard.  Accidentally reversing over one is worse.  But accidents do happen and I am sure hubby was not the first person to accidentally drive over and killing a pet.  I could not have foreseen that this past weekend would include a bunny funeral, but ain’t that just the way life goes sometimes.  This weekend just once again showed me that life is short and it can be over in a second.  So live each day to the fullest, appreciate everything that is in your life and never let an opportunity go by without telling your loved one how much they mean to you and that you love them.  Life is short; don’t waste a minute of it!  Alexi, we will miss you.

Till next time.

@LadyGaga and the #BornThisWayBall

If Twitter and Facebook are anything to go by then Lady Gaga’s visit to South Africa has been an extraordinary success, with people raving about her Johannesburg concert all over the social media.  When we bought our tickets, which was months ago, I was super excited to go to her concert.  Since she started her career five years ago I was an instant fan and I am very proud today to call myself a “Little Monster”.  Gaga has never seized to impress me with her music, her artistry and the positive messages she conveys albeit in a very unconventional way.  So when the day came, last Friday, for hubby, our friends and I to see her perform live in Johannesburg we were bursting with anticipation.

About three weeks ago our preparation for Lady Gaga’s Born This Way Ball started.  After all you can’t go and see Gaga and not dress up.  It would be almost blasphemous to pitch up at one of her concerts wearing just a jean and t-shirt.  Not wanting to look like a big walking cliché we put some thought into our outfits.  We were not going to sew stuffed toys to our clothes or show up wearing nothing but bubble wrap and black duck tape on our nipples.  No, that has all been done.  We wanted to do something unexpected, something original yet classy.  So we decided on going to the concert dressed up like slutty school boys.  Can you imagine four thirty something guys in school clothes getting their sluts on?

The outfits were simplistic, your average grey pants and white shirts and thin leather ties.  The shirts having on their backs embroider the words “Class of 2012 Gaga’s School of lil MoNsTeRs”.  On the front pockets a black badge with the words “Born this Way Ball” written in what else but glitter.  To jazz things up even further (because we are gay like that) we also had shiny strips of cubic zirconia crystals stuck all over the shirts.  Hubby had his grey short shortened and our other friend had his skirt made into a very mini miniskirt.  He also had a weave glued to his head on only one side and had several crystals stuck on to his face.  We all looked very shiny, very slutty and very gay.  On our way to the park-and-ride I remember us discussing how we hope other people would be dressed up too.  We all agreed that it would be a crying shame if we were the only ones.  Arriving at the park-and-ride I was unprepared for what happened next.

As soon as we got there people stared at us as if we just arrived on our spaceship from the planet G.O.A.T.  The stares quickly and unexpectedly turned into a paparazzi frenzy.  People were asking if they could take photographs with us and once Gregg showed them that he had written on his panty in glitter the words “GAGA” the photographic frenzy intensified.  This continued even after we arrived at the venue.  There are photos of us and Gregg’s ass all over Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.  Who knew that our rather simplistic outfits would attract that much attention?  But hey, it’s Gaga and you should show her some respect by stepping it up and putting in the effort.  Luckily we were not the only ones that came dressed for the concert.  There were loads of other little monsters wearing wigs, cans in their hair, taped nipples and weird and wonderful makeup.  It was a proverbial sea of very excited little monsters.

There were people who arrived at the venue as early as 9 o’clock in the morning which is dedications if I have ever seen it.  When we arrived at the venue, just a little after 4pm, there was already a large queue.  I didn’t know it then, but when we got off the bus that would be the last time I would have been sitting until just after midnight and that my feet and legs were going to be fucking sore at the end.  It was a long wait until we could go inside and once the gates opened it was a stampede with glitter and wigs flying everywhere.  Everyone was running to make sure they got the best place to stand.  At one point we were running also and I remember asking myself what the fuck I was running for.  But I ran anyway even though I knew there was no point to it.  To make a long story short we ended up standing 5 meters away from the stage and had the perfect vantage point from which to bask in the splendor that is Lady Gaga.

This concert was the first time that I realized that I was not as short as I thought I was.  I could actually see over the other people, which is rare for me.   During the show we had one annoying little Indian chick standing behind me.  This little annoyance from Bombay was short, full of energy and had no respect for the personal space of others.  She dry humped me from behind, thoroughly molested my back with her DD-cup boobs and at one point her ponytail was giving my exposed arm a rub down.  I felt extremely violated!  That chick had probably gone to third base with me and she didn’t even realize it and God knows I did not consent to it.  I felt a little raped and even though I also had an eye infection and had to wear sunglasses throughout the show I didn’t care because Gaga made it all worth it.

The show was indescribably good.  I was immensely impressed with the effort that goes into Gaga’s concerts and all the people that must work their asses off behind the scenes to make sure the stage, sound and lighting is perfect.  The people who help Gaga with her costume changes, of which there are many, and how fast that is done.  Her dancers who were magnificent, her band and of course Lady Gage herself.  When she sits behind the piano and sings magic happens.  She is also one of those artists who have enchantment inside her and she engages the audience on a level that I personally have never experienced before.  She truly is a brilliant performer who comes across as humble and sincere.  Gaga also manages to be authentic as an artist and conveys a positive and uplifting message through her music that could be felt by all who were there.

For those religious freaks who protested for Lady Gaga to be banned from coming to South Africa, where were you on Friday?  You made such a big stink about Gaga yet when push comes to shove you can’t even show up.  According to them Gaga is the Bride of Satan who will corrupt the youth of South Africa.  Well dumb fucks, clearly you protest against someone who you don’t know and whose concerts you have never seen.  If you were there on Friday you would have realized how ignorant you really are.  Gaga’s message to South Africa was one of hope.

The message I got from Gaga on Friday was that no matter who or what you are you should respect yourself, be proud of yourself, reach for your dreams, work hard, not give a fuck about what people say about you and never let anyone make you feel small, not worth it or say that you are not good enough.  Also if you are sad or being bullied you should always remember that you are not alone.  On Friday I was inspired.  I was inspired by Lady Gaga and how hard she has worked to get to where she is today.  I have also gained so much more respect for her as an artist and as a person.  If you have the opportunity to go to one of her concerts, do yourself a favor and go.  It will rock your world and you will leave feeling positive, optimistic and inspired.  I was Born This Way Bitches…

Till next time.

The Battle of the Christmas Trees!

It’s that time of year again. In a couple of weeks it will be Christmas, or as I like to call it ‘The Silly Season”. This is the one time of year when the child in all of us can be released with reckless abandon in the midst of all the plush and splendor associated with the festive season. The centerpiece of any self-respecting household symbolizing the Christmas spirit is that all important Christmas Tree. So when it came to selecting a tree, hubby and I unexpectedly found ourselves at opposite poles of the Christmas decorating spectrum which led to what will be going down in our history as ”The Great Battle of the Christmas Trees!”

It all started two weeks ago, December was looming and everywhere Christmas decorations sprouted in shopping centres, office buildings and neighbouring houses. This seeded the thought that maybe we should start planning how we would transform our humble abode into a Christmas wonderland. During our move, two years ago, our old Christmas tree was lost and perhaps luckily so. It was less than a meter tall (just big enough so as to not be too imposing in our then very small apartment), had serviced us for the last 9 years, had seen many a merry Christmas but unfortunately was also close to dilapidated and due for retirement. As we forage through our Christmas decoration treasure-trove the need for a new tree became apparent and was briefly discussed and we were in agreement, or at least that was what I thought. So when hubby brought home his interpretation of our new "Christmas Tree" I was somewhat mortified.

The following Friday hubby arrived home all excited about the tree he had purchased. The excitement was tangible, that was until he fetched the “tree” from the car and ceremoniously unveiled it on the dining room table. Barely 60cm tall it was a pile of sticks (presumably someone’s garden trimmings) hammered together in the form of a pine tree - dreadfully boring, barren, minimalistic and better suited as kindle for a barbecue fire rather than an opulent festive centrepiece. “What is this?” I confusedly asked, secretly hoping it was a practical joke. Elatedly and self impressed hubby responded “It’s our new Christmas tree, don’t you just LOVE it?” I paused for a moment trying to think of an appropriate diplomatic response, but as the reality that this was no practical joke sank in nothing was forthcoming and eventually I confessed that I absolutely hated it!

Hubby was unperturbed by my negative and somewhat icy reception of his newly discovered treasure. He appeared oddly enchanted by the sticks magical powers that I clearly was immune to and underwhelmed by. Hubby proceeded to dress the tree. Faerie lights, a couple of white and silver ceramic ornaments and our precious Chrystal Angle crowning the tree; he then switched on the lights and basked in self satisfaction. The tree looked like autistic woodpecker had build it while on some psychedelic drugs, then proceeded to poop perfectly shaped white ornaments on it with bits and pieces being periodically illuminated – the perfect place for spiders to nest and/or mites to breed. Looking at the pile of wood lit up it, in my mind, did not say Christmas but rather oozed the lackluster death of and total disregard for Christmas’ true essence and with each flickering of lights I grew more annoyed.  This tree had to go!

Naturally having had to stare at Woody the Drug Addict Woodpecker’s artwork for a whole week, this past Friday I proceeded to search for a proper traditional Christmas tree. I searched high and low and eventually found the perfect one. I always wanted to have a white Christmas tree, I am not really sure why, but I found one and took it home. With child like enthusiasm I set it up and dressed it with all the extravagance and grandeur deserving of the Christmas spirit. An hour later and it was ready and proudly erected and brightly illuminated in our lounge waiting to astonish and mesmerize all who gaze upon it. Then hubby arrived home.

Walking into the lounge he was unmoved by my tree’s magnificence, he grunted and proceeded to lecture me on how times are changing and how being stuck in the 1900’s is not a good thing. Apparently my tree was and is symbolic of an historical nostalgic artifact, a conclave of kitsch and not the festive objet d'art I thought it was. Hubby further shared his observation that my tree looked like the product of an hour long vomit fest by our four cats taking turns spewing glitter all over my brilliantly decorated precious beauty. As his tree tirade drew to an end I confidently said “I don’t care, my tree is still prettier than your pile of sticks!” Hubby turned away in disgust.

We didn’t speak for an hour rather opting to take our disagreement to cyberspace and fought it out of Facebook having our adoring friends play referee. During that hour opinions were shared and at the end most of cyberspace’s support was in my favor (I know hubby would beg to diver, but then he’s not writing this blog post now is he?). Eventually we realized our behavior was silly, infantile and unbecoming off the mature adults that we were supposed to be. Eventually we came to our senses and reached an amicable compromise: We both would keep our trees, not make our friends take sides about which tree is better; I will tone down mine and hubby will dress up his. And last but not least hubby will refrain from referring to his tree as a “Christmas Tree” and will do my utmost to stick to the “Less Is More Rule!” which is something I find almost impossible to do especially during Christmas – sigh...

So now our house has two Christmas trees, one minimalistic and understated and the other grand and generous. I don’t know how many other married couples have their own Christmas Trees or even have fights about them; maybe hubby and I are just a tad unconventional and overly adamant regarding our festive views. But one thing is for certain the silly season have only just begun and we sure are in for one hell of an interesting and jolly old time. Ho ho ho!

Till next time.

Jackie Beat - Santa's Baby