Homophobic Homos?

Recently coming across a YouTube video by a young man talking about homophobic gay guys not only had me intrigued but also quite troubled. In this video he spoke about how in the last 2 years (after coming out of the closet) he has come across more homophobic gay guys than straight guys. He further put forth his own analysis of this phenomenon. He just being 22, I must admit although he’s very cute and my natural gay instinct was to stare at his lovely topless body I did pay attention the video’s content. Although I disagree with a few points he made, the fundamental question raised is interesting. Are there really homophobic gay guys out there?

As we all know the gay community is very fickle over just about everything. I have found that it can be difficult to get GLBT people to get off their asses to do something for a cause if it does not include a parade, a party and/or alcohol. We also, at times, appear to have a slight attention span problem and also tend to disagree allot about a multitude of issues. In my opinion, this is normal as we are all individuals, with different priorities and different preferences.

Being part of a community does not imply mindless conformity because if it did, we would be one hell of a boring bunch. Yet, with all our differences we still classify ourselves into categories in the gay community based on our age, appearance, preferences and attitudes. We get the twinks, bears, bear cups, leather daddies, butch, femme, tops, bottoms, straight acting, stephford fags, jocks, drag queens, transvestites, lipstick lesbians and I could go on. I belive categorizing ourselves in this manner is an attempt not only to acknowledge our differences but also to achieve a sense of community. We are after all as diverse as the colors of the rainbow flag that represents us.

So why in a community as varied as ours and with such a plethora of opportunity for inclusion do we still get the odd queer that would state he/she hates gays? Personally I have crossed paths with a few of them and in most cases the experience left me flabbergasted. I mean really… you are gay, in a gay club playing tonsil hockey and in all probability will later play hide the sausage with another man and afterwords will be basking in the satisfaction of off loading your primal desires, yet you don’t like gays? The same goes for carpet munchers who have their cake and eat it and with the tingling taste of sugar still on their tongue declare they hate lesbians. My first reaction would always be a sarcastic frown (when I still could in my pre-Botox phase) and with my head bopping and fingers clicking would say “Girlfriend you are confused!” Do they really hate gays, or is it self-loathing or disillusionment with the homosexual lifestyle?

It’s bad enough to deal with homophobic heterosexuals but when it comes to homophobic homos it’s like the kettle calling the pot black. Being the curious creature I am I could not let this go and engaged some of these controversial homophobic homos. What I found was that in the majority of the cases the statements was based only on aspects of homosexuality and not on its entirety. Some were merely irritated with their perceptions of and experiences with the gay lifestyle that included promiscuity, drug abuse, relationship issues, elitism, ageism, superficiality and ostracism. Some were personally hurt by the gay community either through repetitive failed relationships, the choice of bad friends and/or having fallen victim to discrimination due to their specific category in the gay community and not receiving the support they craved from the community itself. It was not that they hated gay people they hated what had happened to them and they were not likely to go burn the gay flag at some rodeo or sport event or protest at gay clubs and bars.

On the other spectrum there were those gay homophobes that truly meant what they said. Whether their strong aversion stems from self-loathing, denial, or like a friend pointed out, their own feelings of guilt that they are transferring to a whole community is not always crystal clear. I guess if you were raised in a community where homosexuality is frowned upon (to put it mildly) and fear and denial of who and what you really are combines, the outwardly expression of their own insecurity and personal conflict will materialize in homophobia. They are the ones most likely to join these weird and sinister Christian groups that convert homosexuals with prayer, Bible study and group meetings. It’s like AA for gays, however it led me wonder whether it is not only making things worse for them to fight a part of themselves which they can’t really fix? In this light shouldn’t their homophobia be seen as a cry for help?

It’s sad but true there really are homophobic homos out there. Some gay people make reckless and derogatory statements about our community in the heat of the moment but once cooled down their rainbows shine bright once again. Unfortunately we also have those brothers and sisters who are in the midst of a terrible storm and can, for the moment, not see past the dark clouds, pouring rain and lightning. We as a GLBT community should have patience with them and help them weather the storm so once the sun emerges they too will see their true colors shine bright and be proud.

Till next time.

Homophobic Gay Guys

Hate Mail

After my recent post "The Abomination of Humanity" that dealt with the hate mail I receive on a regular basis I decided to publish some of these mails on my blog. The normal "burn in hell" and "fuck you faggot" mails I decided to ignore, and rather only publish ones that have an inkling of intelligence. So here is one that was sent to me via Facebook:
Message 1:

"we hate you cos you are fucking poofs...."

Message 2:

"The thing you people seem unable to grasp is the fact that in basic biological instincts mean that any organism is hard wired to reproduce and further the existence of the species.

Any organism that did not wish to reproduce, a gay organism if you will, would not pass on its genes. Therefore it follows that put crudely, gay people have a genetic defect.

In a primitive life form, the gay gene would be gone after a few generations as it would not be passed on, and would only again occur in an organism due to a defect. Now of course we live in a politically correct world so defects are embraced in more developed nations.

You wouldn't kill a disabled child just because they were born with the disability, but that does not change the fact that there is a defect with that child. They are not normal in a genetic sense. As are gays. I do not mean to imply that gay people should be killed or anything, but it is a biological fact that they have a gene defect."

At least this person tried to provide some "scientific" rationalization for his homophobia. It's quite refreshing to receive a "hate mail" without some religious tone to it. According to this genius gay people are defective primitive organisms that will go extinct. And there I thought we were superior organisms, I guess it's back to the lab for a reanalysis.

Till next time.

'Marry Me' performed by Lesbian activist Melange Lavonne and directed by gay filmmaker Fable Jonze

Horror, Weirdos & Fagalicious Homos

It’s time for Halloween. All the witches, fairies, superheroes and dead icons of the past will come out of the closet and gush into the nightclubs and streets to celebrate this dress up party. Not having attended a Halloween party in a while I am pondering the idea of getting into a costume and joining in this year’s festivities.

As most gay and rather effeminate men know, playing dress up is nothing new to us. Some of us have been doing this ever since we could walk. As a toddler I distinctly remember being quite fascinated with my grandmother’s pink powder box that she had on her dressing table. Every chance I got I would sneak into her room, open the box grab the powder puff and powder my face. Needless to say I would emerge white as a ghost and concerned stares would be exchanged between my parents and grandparents as they would send me to the bathroom to wash my face. I eventually ended up inheriting that powder box, but unfortunately lost it. Granny’s powder was not the only feminine accessories I had used, my mom’s makeup also suffered my curiosity and many a time I ended up looking like a clown that was drunk when he applied his happy face and consequently suffered a stroke and was sent to an insane asylum. Apart from the makeup there also was the trying on of shoes, jewelry and the odd dress. Why I didn’t end up a drag queen is anybody’s question. I showed all the signs, but I guess the fact that I make for a scary woman might be a clue to this enigma.

In the past I have been dressed up for Halloween as a Priest, a Punk, a Bunny, a School Boy, a Prostitute, and a Goth, just to mention but a few. Strangely enough I never actually went the drag queen route however appropriate that could have been as I could have made a good witch. Of all the costumes I have adorned over the years I must admit the Bunny was my favorite. It was the least effort as I only had to buy bunny ears and a fluffy tail. The best part was that the tail attracted a lot of attention and my ass was crabbed numerous times during the course of that evening and it enjoyed this attention, more than my husband did. My least favorite costume was that of the priest as I kept on tripping on the damn robe and there is no way of sexing up such a dreadfully boring and conservative outfit.

So come Halloween it’s a free-for-all to dress up in whatever takes your fancy. If you are a closeted drag queen you have the options of dressing up as Cher, Vintage Madonna, The Queen or the Wicket Witch of the West. For those secretly into S&M an assortment of leather accessories are at your disposal; however certain items I strongly recommend against renting because you may not want to know where and on whom it has been - no one wants a after Halloween party favor of a case of the crabs! For all of those into the Superhero franchise I always find it quite cute when a couple ventures out to save the queers from the “evils” of the world dressed up as Batman & Robin or Captain America & Falcon. For those single folk not wanting to go out alone, do not despair you too can venture out with your fag hag dressed up as Bonny & Clyde or Barbie & Ken (you can decide who will be which). There is an overabundance of choices when it comes to costumes and themes one can choose from.

So what does your choice of costume say about you? The choice is quite a personal one, I would think, as Halloween is the one time of the year you can dress up as anything or anyone you like. Your secret fantasies can be realized, for instance if you always had a crush on Superman, who knows you may just end up in bed with him that night. If you always admired our health caregivers there’s the sexy nurse outfit (always popular amongst our drag queens) or the little French maid if you are really into kinky house work. For all our lesbians I haven’t forgotten about you. For the really butch lesbian how about trying on a dress for once? Who knows you might even like it? If a dress is not an option I have always found that lesbians look quite good in law enforcement uniforms, so they can do the poppers and safe sex patrol and ensure all horny queers behave responsibly.

Halloween is a fun time of year, with a variety of oddities wondering our streets, frequenting our bars and clubs and a bunch of hyperactive children high on sugar knocking away at our doors wanting their next fix. Whether you decide to dress up and go out, or stay at home watching a few horror movies I trust that all will have a fabulous time during this day of Horror, Weirdos and Fagalicious Homos.

Till next time.

Super Heroes look gay

WHAT THE F..! No wonder I am a bitch.

They say bad things happen in threes. Well, I am starting to believe I am not the exception to the rule but rather I am setting a new standard for it. In one day my week has been ruined, communications failed and I am for all practical reasons stranded. Being sleep deprived which admittedly causes me to be more bitchy and short tempered than usual, a culmination of events almost pushed me over the edge and turned me into quite the bitch. Let me explain…

About a month ago I was in a small accident resulting in minor damage to my BMW. Luckily having good insurance it was an inconvenience but not the end of the world. My car went in for repairs and lo-and-behold just as they were almost done they discovered that one of my shock absorbers was also damaged. Naturally we assumed it was due to the accident. The insurance company sent out one of their people who concluded it wasn’t. I complained, they sent out another person who came to the same conclusion as his predecessor. It was ruled the shock’s damage wasn’t accident related and they could not find any evidence of the damaged being caused by a pothole or the weal being hit by a curb. Luckily the car was just 16 months old and surely the shock absorber was still covered under the warranty and/or motor-plan so BMW would repair it under these conditions, right? Yesterday my car was sent to one of their workshops, it was examined and the technicians concluded that the damage would not be covered by BMW’s warranty or motor-plan.
I was informed of BMW’s decision late yesterday afternoon; I arrived home wanting to send them a further enquiry via e-mail. I switch on my computer and it didn’t want to work. A few phone calls later my computer was arranged to be taken in for an assessment and repairs. Frustrated I went to bed hoping that a new day would bring new solutions.

Waking up this morning preparing to go to work I had my whole day planned and was optimistic that all would be resolved. That was a mistake! Firstly, my day didn’t go as planned. We were supposed to continue with the cross examination of the state witness but this was preempted by the defense bringing a motion for the judge in the case to recuse himself. This was a shock! The implications being that we will loose a whole week and consequently prolong this tedious trial and if the motion is successful we would have to start the whole trial from scratch. This set the mood for the rest of the day.

The second blow came when I was informed that my computer had a virus and it was potentially lethal to all the data stored on it. The diagnoses were later confirmed and the probability of loosing all my data was estimated at 90%. Now I was left facing potentially having to start from scratch with a complicated trial, having a computer infected with a virus that could cause me to loose 90% of data (both personal and some work related) and I had no mode of transport.
Not being able to do much about the trial motion or my computer at that stage I focused on the only problem I could actually try to resolve – my car. Having already called BMW’s customer care line that yielded no results I decided to escalate my problem to BMW South Africa. Eventually getting hold of someone the issue was painstakingly explained and it was promised I would be provided with a suitable solution within an hour.

Two hours later not having heard anything I phoned back. I was informed that BMW would have to send out their regional manager to inspect my car and he would make a final recommendation. Finally, I thought, I was gaining some ground until he muttered the second part of his sentence. The regional manager would only be available next month. Almost hyperventilating at this point I asked the guy in the most restrained manner I could what other alternatives I had as waiting another month clearly is not an option. To my utter surprise and disgust he told me I could fetch my car from the panel beaters and use it until the regional manager was available. Thinking I heard him wrong I repeated “So you want me to fetch my car and drive around with it while it clearly has a mechanical fault?” He answered in the affirmative. Shocked I asked to speak to his manager, he answered that he was the manager, asked to speak to his immediate superior and was told she was in a meeting in Cape Town. Completely at a loss for words a short uncomfortable silence followed ending with me putting down the phone in his ear.

As I was typing my formal complaint about BMW this afternoon on my very slow and old computer (the computer that was replaced with the one currently infected with a virus) I receive a “courtesy” call from BMW’s customer care wanting to know whether I was satisfied with the service my car received at the branch it was taken and whether all repairs were done to my satisfaction. The first thing going through my mind was “What the fuck?!” As I was not responding due to disbelief she asked whether I was still on the line and I responded by saying “NO!” It slipped out and confused her. She asked me “No your not on the line or no your are not completely satisfied?” The stupidity of that question set my off on a 20 minute rant and by the end I had her repeat everything that I had said to make sure she had noted it correctly which took her a further 15 minutes. Now both our days were ruined.

So yes I had a shitty day. The court case has been frustrated, my brand new computer has a virus and my BMW is still broken. There are two more days left of this week. If I am not going survive it I am taking everybody around me with me to the loony bin.

Till next time.

Kathy Griffin - Everybody Can Suck It

Gay Witch Hunts – Uganda Hates Us!

Who would have thought that in this day and age real life witch hunts could still occur? Living in a country where homosexuality is legal and gay marriage has been made possible, I sometimes forget how fortunate I am, and sometimes I can be oblivious to the suffering of others. But every now-and-again I am reminded of how much hate still exists and that discrimination is still rampant. This led me to ask, do we as a world society really care enough about what happens outside the boarders of our own comfort zone to get off our lazy behinds to do something about it?
Sitting at home last night minding my own business desperately trying to clear my overflowing e-mail inbox I came across an e-mail from one of my Ugandan readers. In this e-mail I was told about a new Anti-Homosexuality bill that the Ugandan government proposes to pass in their parliament. My first reaction was to press delete, as I was just too tired to be bothered with the problems of this small African country. I tried to rationalize my initial disinterest by thinking “How is this my problem? I am only one person and even though I have empathy for my reader’s plight, what could I do about it?”
Against my selfish first instinct I decided not to delete the e-mail and proceeded to read it. I was horrified to discover that this Anti-Homosexuality bill would not only criminalize homosexuality but also the promotion thereof and whether any Ugandan who’s gay or supports or promotes homosexuality or gay rights, no matter where they are in the world, could be prosecuted. Furthermore, any person in authority who fails to report known violations of the law within 24 hours will also be subject to a significant fine and up to 3 years in prison - even when this means turning in their colleagues, family, or friends! This sickened me! This seemed quite similar to the witch hunts that occurred in the period of 1480 to 1700!
Being the little menacing faggot I am I decided not to let this go - something needed to be done about this pending injustice! Being all worked up and ready to put on my pink boxing cloves the little activist in me was sorely disappointed when I realized this was 9pm on a Friday night and no gay rights groups would pick up their office phones if I called. Even though we queers are well organized we do not have a 24 hour emergency call centre and I was not about to burden my already high phone bill by making international calls. Now being “all dressed up” but nowhere to go, so to speak, I had to think of a Plan B.

Like a lightning bolt it struck me, why not use the power of the internet. Surely I could get the message out by utilizing the numerous social networking pages I labor over and have been nurturing for so many years. Surely some of my friends and contacts will be as enraged by the Ugandan governments’ asinine new proposed bill. So I leaped into cyber action sending out messages to as many people as I could, spreading to word into cyberspace hoping it would fall on interested and willing ears.

Having put the message out there and trusting that the gay community will react in force I waited and waited for any inkling of queer life in the form of a response. Hours passed and nothing, not even a “Please stop harassing me with stupid action alerts while I am trying to have cyber sex on Facebook!” My plan B seemed to have failed and I was frustrated. As I shutdown my computer shortly after 11pm, I could not help but wonder if my Ugandan friend and reader would now unsubscribe from my blog and I felt like I let him down.
Waking up this morning, feeling like I failed I decided to peruse some of my social networking pages. To my delight I had several messages from concerned and angered friends wanting to know how they could help. There was queer life out there in cyberspace and they cared! A few didn’t even know that Uganda existed, some even thinking it was a state in the United States they haven’t heard off, but never the less they cared enough to do something! So we started an e-mail campaign writing to the Ugandan government and our own governments demanding action and having this perilous Anti-Homosexuality bill stopped.

Having had a good response my faith in us as a world society has been restored. We are not all selfish and self-centered creatures who only cares about how gorgeous our boyfriends and girlfriends are, whether our local gay club will up their entrance fees and if we will need to up our Botox treatments from every 6 months to 3. When the rights of our gay brothers and sisters are threatened some of us are willing to get off our lazy behinds and enthusiastically put in an effort to protect them. My only wish is that more people will do the same.

Till next time.

Homophobia

Drugs, Lies & A Videotape

The soap opera trial got even more controversial this week. The star witness seemingly has a failing memory; flip-flopping between versions of events that favors the state and then the defense’s case. Just as things seemed as they could not become more tedious with the protracted cross examination and yet again the drug smuggling conviction came the introduction of an explosively controversial video tape.

This has been one hellishly long week with 16 hour working days of which 6 of those hours being spent with me sitting in court struggling to prevent my butt falling asleep. Arriving at our offices at 7am we fight our way through what we have now fondly named “Little Harare” as the section between the court and our offices have been occupied by Zimbabwean refugees. These refugees spent their days and nights in this section of pavement doing everything there from eating to sleeping. Unfortunately they also decided to pollute this area with their trash and their bodily fluids and excrements. So arriving at work in the morning the moment you step out of the car you are overwhelmed with the smell of urine and rotting food, hence none of us are having breakfast anymore. The permanent occupants of our office building say we’ll get use to the smell but I am not convinced.
Spending so many hours with my colleagues and having had many late nights this week I have come to discover that brilliant minds comes at a cost. You see I have discovered that every member of our team has their own unique little phobias. In our group we have two members that are afraid of heights. Normally this would not pose any problems. However, our temporary offices have been designed around several indoor court yards and all the offices has glass walls facing these court yards and we are on one of the top floors. As we walked into our offices on the first day one members unsuspectingly walked into her assigned office deep in thought and as she turned around was faced with only a piece of glass separating her and a long drop to the ground floor. We heard a hysterical scream and discovered her standing sucked to the opposite office wall frozen in fear. An hour later blinds were installed in all our offices.

Another member of our group suffers from claustrophobia and this prevents him from taking an elevator so every day we spent up to 10 minutes waiting for him when we depart the building or having to go anywhere. Then we have the member with arachnophobia who constantly mistakes any small fuzzy item as a spider which is a problem because the actual court room is not cleaned everyday (if ever) and many little fuzz balls tease his nerves on a daily basis. Being a group with healthy sense of humor we do exploit these phobias from time-to-time for our own sadistic amusement.

Having had a small break on Monday from little Harare, the glass palace and ominous fuzz balls we returned on Tuesday to resume the trial. The star witness would start his 2nd day of cross examination by the defense. Everyone was geared up for a show and that is exactly what they got. The witness being a convicted drug smuggler may have been confused to be philanthropist and cuddly teddybear mafia boss. So I was quite taken aback when people were shocked that he admitted to lying when it suited him and was for his own personal gain. Wouldn’t one expect that from a criminal and a person who is also charged for murder? As he was taking a beating on the stand I could not help but compare him to an overweight house cat being taunted by a little dog. His reactions ranged from being annoyed with his usual frown and lifting of his eye brows, confused, at times lazy, to sporadic attempts at lashing back. The bickering only seized after the judge lost his temper violently slamming down his hand on his pulpit followed by a cringe of pain and a harsh reprimand.

The pièce de résistance this week came with the introduction of the controversial DVD that was made of the witness over a year ago by some spy bosses. This DVD was awaited with great anticipation as a titanic battle was fought over whether it should be admitted or not. At the end of the day it was provisionally admitted and the court was entertained with 57minutes of very controversial assertions by what seemed to be a very aggrieved, animated and very talkative complainant and a laid back spy boss listening to him while smoking his cigarettes and the other spy boss hidden out of sight. There were moments of humor, moments of shock and moments of confusion. All-in-all it was quite a satisfactory experience for all the media attending the proceedings.

The highlight of my week was the fact that the media decided they had enough footage of us and we were not stalked by photographers. We had quite a peaceful stroll through little Harare’s alley of urine and trash without the added stress of having to dodge cameras. As far as I know I was not in the newspapers or on the news, and it was quite a relief. As the testimony of the star witness winds down, the next waves of witnesses are lined up and are sure to attract another frenzy of interest. As for me, I am just going with the ebb-and-flow of events, trying to keep the blood circulation going in my derriere during the trial, doing my work and avoiding stepping in crap.

Till next time.

Spy Bosses, Drug Trafficking, Money Laundering, Murder & Blackmail.

One of the most anticipated and controversial trials in South Africa got underway this week and I just happen to be part of it. The trial involves an alleged international Mafia Boss and convicted Drug Dealer as the star witness and the once most powerful man in law enforcement as the accused. Throw International Espionage, Spy Bosses, Drug Trafficking, Money Laundering, Murder and Blackmail into the mix and you have the perfect recipe for a soap opera. Being involved in the trail I may not divulge any details as pertaining to the actual case but I will take you behind the scenes and share with you the experiences that no one ever get to read or know about. Here is your brief introduction.
Being part of a court case of this magnitude has both its advantages and disadvantages. On the one side I literally have a front row seat and inside scoop to what I can only describe as the best “reality show” but on the other side I have to sacrifice my privacy and normal routine. This past week it felt like my life has been turned upside down, my sleeping patterns grossly interrupted and my public anonymity obliterated. The experience sometimes feels surreal, sometimes scary and sometimes exciting.

My day starts at 4:15am as I am awakened by the irritating sounds of chirping birds. Not being a morning person their sounds mock me as I am forced to awaken from my peaceful sleep. As I prepare for the frenzy that lies ahead, the darkness of night slowly is ushered away by the morning sun. I am picked up by a black Jeep with tinted windows at around 5:30am with four of my colleagues. We are then rushed, with what at times is lethal speed, to the offices next to the High Court. As the Jeep forcefully strings its way through pre-peek-time morning traffic most of us try to catch up on 45 minutes sleep that it takes to reach our destination. Once at the office we have a quick breakfast before our pre-trail meeting then collect our documents and equipment and 30 minutes before the trail start prepare to depart for court.

Preparations for the short walk to court across the road are no easy feat. You see this week we escorted the star witness to court and apart from the media being interested in catching him on film there is also the added complication of his safety. Getting from our temporary offices to the court building is timed and planned with military precision. The security detail (a staff of about 15 people) deploy to their positions 10 minutes prior to departure. As we assemble in the foyer of the office building we wait for the “all clear”. When the go ahead is given we all emerge from the building and a security perimeter surrounds us. As we exit the clicking of cameras start and we struggle our way through the sea of journalist. This has been a frighting experience as once this week a journalist broke the security perimeter causing chaos and the journalist and his camera was injured in the process.

As a result of the media interest in the case I made it onto the news 3 times this week, been on the front page of 4 news papers and appeared in pictures with the star witness in one news paper everyday. This unexpected exposure has had some adverse effects: Firstly some family members and friends called me and was surprised to see me on the news, in public I have gotten some weird stares and twice I have been approached by strangers wanting to know who I was and what my involvement is in the case. Having been told that I look like I am a “mafia type” on the news and newspapers I can only assume this inference is made due to my association with the star witness. Also having been told I look like the witness’ bodyguard, all I could do was laugh.

Once in court we set up our work stations as the press slowly trickles in. Having got to know some of them during the course of this week I must say most of them are very pleasant except one. There is an old lady that is not only abrasive and bombastic but also a major bitch. Having had her banned from our row of seats due to her disturbing nature she through a mammoth tantrum and threaten to sue. Her antics did not yield the results she had hoped and her hateful stares burn our backs everyday; I am sure at night she has constructed a hate shrine with the newspaper pictures of us and burns her black candles while guzzling down her cheep whiskey.

As the defense and the accused enters the court room the atmosphere changes. Everyone looks with keen interest to see how the accused and the star witness will interact. As expected there is no eye contact and neither acknowledges the other’s existence. Only once this week the two made eye contact and it was followed by the witness braking down in tears. Whether that was an Oscar winning performance by the witness no one knows. Presiding over this case is a judge that is firm and does not take well to any dramatics, having a queer sense of humor he does allows the odd lifting of tension with a quip that seldom hits home with the majority of the audience. As testimony starts startling allegations are made, conspiracies claimed, murder and blackmail revealed. The dance between the prosecution and defense is complicated and at times tense; both parties verbally sparring and every now-and-again giving the other a painful blow.

As proceedings wind down and the court adjourns at 3:30pm we again have to make our way through the army of photographers and interested members of the public. I have grown to dread this long walk through hell and chaos. On Wednesday we had a drunken man screaming profanities at us and just as he appeared to want to attack one of us he was neutralized. Once safely back in the building we all have a sigh of relieve having made it back unharmed. The rest of the afternoon is spent preparing for the next day as a postmortem of the day’s events are done. This usually takes a few hours. If we are lucky at about 5:00pm we leave for home and fight through peek hour traffic. Our black Jeep, I am sure, has now become a notorious item on the road as our driver is aggressive and his driving at times frightening. On our journey home we listen to the media’s analysis of the case on the radio and are informed of how they think we are doing.

At around 6:30pm I arrive home exhausted, too tired to think about doing anything else apart from vegetating in front of the television where again I am reminded of my day as images of the day’s events and sometimes image of me flashes across the screen. At 10:30pm I go to bed, only to awaken again at 4:15am to repeat the process.

This case is set to continue for the next 5 weeks. Our star witness will be finishing his testimony hopefully next week, when after the real heavy weights will be introduced: Ex spy bosses, the notorious security expert, the millionaire ex fugitive, the police high brass and maybe even the accused will take the stand. We are in for an exciting time as many more controversial revelations will be made and numerous bombs shells are sure to be dropped. More about this to follow…

The Collagen Palace

They say beauty is only skin deep and true beauty comes from the inside. However, some of us need a little help when it comes to the “skin deep” department. I have just gone for my Botox touch-up at another one of those Collagen Palaces that promise the fountain of youth with a few injections, peels, lasers and surgery. After my little procedure I left wondering why we so eagerly pursue beauty and whether I now too may have crossed the line in joined a group of people that would pay large amounts of money to cling to youth for as long as possible.
My first Botox treatment was earlier this year and as I vividly described on my blog it was a pleasant experience and the benefits aesthetically pleasing. When I was due for my touch up I decided to go to another plastic surgeon that was recommended to me by a friend. All excited I called her office and to my great disappointment the first appointment I could get was only in three months time. Being quite surprised the overly friendly and slightly annoyingly happy sounding receptionist told me they could place me on a “cancelation waiting list”. So two weeks passed before I got a call informing they had a cancellation and I could be helped the very next day.

Arriving at the surgeons offices I was amazed at the magnitude of her operation and facilities. It was a one-stop-shop where you could get anything done apart from major surgery. As one would expect from such an establishment the staff was immaculately dressed and all had a little something done from Botox, collagen to fillers. Walking towards the counter at reception I spotted the Prozac Queen who I had spoken to before. It should be illegal for one person to be so happy and I could not quite determine whether it was just her natural personality or chemically induced, either way if I had to spend a whole day with her I would be forced to staple her lips shut.
After completing the normal paper work I was escorted to the waiting area where I joined a couple of middle aged women all engrossed in the little pamphlets of the different procedures the facility offers. The conversations they had resembles that of people discussing a restaurant menu the only difference was they were discussing chemical peels, body sculpting, facelifts, Botox and vaginal rejuvenations. It seems that apart from the normal nips and tucks of ones flabby bits you can now also get a younger vagina. What will be next a testicular lift and/or penis rejuvenation? Not wanting to listen to how their privates have been tightened I decided to go for a smoke and wait for my turn at the outside coffee shop area.
When my turn came the permanently surprised looking and cheerful receptionist collected me and ushered me into the Dr’s consulting room. My face was examined, the procedure discussed and this time fillers was also introduced into my age delaying chemical recipe. I found the Dr very pleasant and genuinely sincere in her approach. After every possible frown was reproduced, my facial muscles examined and frown line inspected she took out an array of syringes and meticulously placed them on a small table next to the bed. As usual the Botox injections were relatively painless, but when it came to the fillers it was a slightly different story. The best way to describe filler injections is like being stung by a small bee with the slight burning sensation lasting only a few seconds - kind of painful but nothing that would cause a ghastly scream. The other queer thing about fillers is that you can actually feel the thin line if you stroke your finger over the treated area and this really grossed out my hubby.

During the procedure the Dr and I had a nice chat. She told me about the wide range of clients she has and to my surprise she told me of two very well known International Airlines (the names of which I will omit out a fear of being sued) sends their cabin crew to her when they are in South Africa to get Botox and fillers done. Apparently these airlines pays for the procedures and all their staff members that deal with the public are encouraged to undergo these treatments on a regular basis. It’s seems having a flawless and youthful appearance are part of their job description – what a great perk to have. We also discussed the reason people have cosmetic procedures done and from her answer I concluded everybody does it for their own personal reasons, some out of vanity and others out of necessity.
So why do I get Botox you may ask? After some pondering I realized to a certain degree vanity does play a role in my motivation, but mostly it is because if I can delay the effects of aging why not. I do take pride in my appearance. Even though of late I again gained some weight and unlike Oprah my blog readership does not increase with every pound I gain, I still take care of myself and do plan on shaking off the extra pounds and could even inject some of the fat into other parts of my body – Yes, people do that for all of those who just gasped in horror! My decision to get Botox also has a lot to do with the fact that my frown lines made me look unfriendly and every time someone bores me, talks nonsense or when I get annoyed I tend to frown betraying my concerted efforts to hide my true feelings from who ever is sitting across from me in a meeting. Another and final reason for me joining the Botox Band Wagon early is to stay away from the surgeon’s knife for as long as possible as preventative measures, in my opinion, are always the best.

After my touch-up and having had my eyes opened to the other side of cosmetic procedures I honestly don’t think I will go over board and make my visit to the youth fountain a monthly excursion. A visit once in a while (when needed) and in moderation is the healthier option for me. After all I don’t want to end up looking like some of the freaks you see on Dr 90210 or the E channel’s Top 100 Worst Plastic Surgeries. When I look into the mirror in ten years time I still want to be able to recognize the person I see looking back at me.

Till next time.

Robin Williams Plastic Surgery

Renovation Monsters

What a relief to finally have found and bought the perfect home. After a protracted search, many nightmarish experiences and one broken heart we finally found that elusive perfect property. Our new home was nestled away in a treed and hidden neighbourhood that we have driven passed unknowingly so many times before. However, I could not bask in a sense of relief and satisfaction for long. You see no home is perfect until you have put your personalized stamp on it. Having secured the property we now will have to renovate. I don’t know what is more stressful looking for a property or renovating it, but I am soon to find out.

After just over two months of intensive searching and viewing properties that could only be improved with a demolition ball finding “The One” seemed almost implausible. On Friday viewing the last property of the week we arrived unenthusiastic, tired and expecting to again be underwhelmed. The owner of the property was an elderly lady whose husband recently passed away. The house was a montage of a lifetime’s worth of memories as only an old lady can accumulate. On every wall there were pictures and mementos of past happy times, lost loved ones and historic moments in their lives. To us most of the nick-knacks seemed quite disposable but to her every item was priceless. Walking through her house felt like walking through her life history and it almost felt wrong and voyeuristic. Her two dogs, three birds and one cat was also quite engrossed with us and we were engulfed by an orchestra of excited animal noises.

Looking past the 1935 décor, hubby and I soon discovered that this home was a place we could and want to live. It had all the elements we were seeking and could not find before. The love the woman and her husband put into their home was evident in every room; everything was impeccable but clearly not our taste. Much like the old lady, the house was due for a face lift and some minor cosmetic changes. The 1970’s porno cabin style ceiling panels did not turn me on. Even worse was the fact that everything was pink, from the tiles to the walls. She and her husband spend the last 35 years building and finishing their dream home and here comes two gay guys who will practically tear it all down. For a brief moment this thought saddened me as she will have to say good bye to her home and entrust it to us hoping we will put the same kind of love into it as she and her late husband did.

Over the weekend we visited a few stores getting ideas and of course prices of everything we would want to change in the house. We visited several building and construction shops. In one such shop the ugly renovation monster reared its head. Husband and I had our first renovation argument over tiles. Being the drama queen I am I was absolutely livid for having one of my tile choices insensitively dismissed. At this point we have not even bought the property and neither has the actual work started and here we were already fighting. Both of us are quite stubborn people and with my French heritage and husband’s Italian bloodline our disagreements can be quite hilarious to witness. Nobody can throw a temper tantrum quite like a gay couple who can’t agree over what colour tile or what design of bathroom taps they are prepared to life with.

On Sunday, after having an engineer friend of ours inspect the property and advised us of what could and could not be done, we signed the contract and the purchase was set in motion. Monday morning as I awoke from a tranquil nights sleep the realization sunk in - we just bought a house and we are going to have to renovate! I took a deep breath and on exhaling I completely freaked out! Pale as a ghost a sea of concerns washed over me: What have we gotten ourselves into? Will we have enough money? Who is going to do all the work? We haven’t even sold our property yet! We will only have four weeks to have the renovations completed before the contractors’ annual leave in December! My brain felt like it was short circuiting as I had my little panic attack and hyperventilated.

Now in full panic mode I Googled every possible contracting company in and around our town and started making frantic phone calls. Before end of business I secured four companies to do site inspections and to provide us with quotes. I dread to think what to total will amount to and strongly suspect suffering another hyperventilation attack upon receiving the first few quotations. We probably will not be able to afford to do everything that is on our wish list but we sure will try to come close.

The first site inspection is scheduled for tomorrow and what seems to be a mammoth task officially will start with the screening of this first contractor. I truly feel sorry for who ever we award the contract to as they will be in for a though time. No one can nit-pick, complain and bitch about final finishes as we can. The words “I am paying for this and I want it perfect!” are words they will soon grow sick off. "What don't you understand about a BUDGET?!" most probably will be the next phrase they will come to hate. They better be miracle workers with great patience and exceptional workmanship or else all of us will have grey hair by the end. Worst case scenario - someone will disappear into a cement grave and become a permanent hidden fixture of the house!

Having survived house hunting hell and finally having found the proverbial needle in the gaystack, part of our relocation battle has been won. Now the war with the renovations and contractors starts. At the end of the day I am sure it will all be worth it if we survive it!

Till next time!

Two Gay Construction Guys

Todd M. Dobson's Thoughts (Caster Semenya)

COURAGE IS A SIGN OF A TRULY GREAT ATHLETE!!

(BLOG: http://tmdobson.wordpress.com/)

I love it when a normal day is underway and I’m surprised by learning unexpected lessons. I spidered my way to a Facebook friends (Pierre Le Roux) blog to read what promised to be an interesting post (Warfare: The Delightful and Dreary Sides to Gay Life). The article Mr. le Roux delicately wrote, details the tribulations of world known athletic runner Mokgadi Caster Semenya, who finds herself in the midst of an embroiled controversy questioning her sex.

I stated that correctly, those who stand opposite Ms. Semenya are challenging whether she is a woman or a man. Mr. Le Roux expresses very poignantly his opinion that in this case he believes Ms. Semenya is placed in the between category of Intersexed, formally known by many as Hermaphrodite. To be an intersex person, one must either have some of both sexual genitalia or in even fewer cases neither (androgynous). However, it is so much more complicated than having a hoohoo and/or a winkie, because there is much that makes either function. This doesn’t even mention all that goes behind the physical parts into the psychological aspects of a person’s sex.

This is a more commonly known issue than people think, but it is one that very few wish to discuss, therefore as a society we don’t even think about it. It is only thought about when parents find that they are faced with having a baby being born this way. Those parents have no clue what to do other than what their immediate doctor recommends. Most physicians try to separate themselves from their work; but human beings can no longer leave their personal ideologies at the door than you can the physical aspects of this issue. However, it is far more than just the presence of extra parts. Some doctors will try to force the new parents into making a decisions right then upon the birth of their child as to its sex. They feel that corrective surgery must be performed immediately to make the child the chosen sex of the parents. This is truly demonstrative, because you have a fifty-fifty chance at making the right decision. But what does a parent do when they make the wrong decision?

Most psychiatric doctors would tell the family to treat the child only as the sex that was chosen for the child, but what of natural selection. This brings the conversation square with one that I have been arguing with Christians over for years, I was born male, and yet I was also born gay. Most Christians are taught by the organized religion that sexuality is a choice, but this might prove them wrong. When a soul is born into this world with both genitalia, why then do parents, doctors (mental or physical) believe anyone but that soul can define what or who they truly are?
With that being said, times have changed many things and for now, half of the physical doctors coach parents to hold off on corrective surgery until such time as the child starts to show masculine or feminine tendencies. The surgery should be done before they enter their hormonal years, so that means before teen years. The truly horrible aspects are; most children are developing both masculine and feminine propensities during these formative years. Some even continue nurturing them through puberty and some even beyond into their twenties.

All of this to point out my primary ideology from the very onset: why can’t we just accept someone like Ms. Semenya for who she is…as she is? If she chooses to be defined as one sex over the other, then it might be the right time for surgical action. If she accepts herself physically as she was born, who are any of us to tell her she’s wrong. Our position should be to LOVE, HONOR & RESPECT the living soul that she is. Nothing less than that will do. She is no greater than we are, nor is she less than we are! She is a living, breathing human who deserves everything that we expect for ourselves.

As for the next time parents are faced with such a decision at the birth of their child…LOVE that being you were graced with as they enter this world. HONOR that they are a part of each of you and perfect exactly as they come to you. Above all, RESPECT that this soul will endure enough from such cruel, hateful people that cannot see them as anything other than the unique and beautiful soul they are.

I wish Mokgadi Caster Semenya love as she traverses this treacherous world of ours. I also hope that the governing body that has brought such attention to a graceful woman, that you see the soul before you as she is, treating her with LOVE, HONOR & RESPECT as you would have all others regard you. Allow her to continue her athletic pursuits without fail.

– Todd M Dobson

Intersexuality & Hermaphrodites

Mokgadi Caster Semenya (South African middle-distance runner and world champion) has been the centre of controversy the last few weeks. Doubt about her gender started to surface and consequently she had to submit to some rather degrading tests to determine her gender. It has been rumored that Semenya is a hermaphrodite (having both male and female reproductive organs) or is an intersex (term adopted by medicine during the 20th century applied to human beings whose biological sex cannot be classified as either male or female). This led me to ask, what are our own attitude towards people like this and where do they fit in society.

Having seen and heard Semenya on television admittedly she does not seem to sound or appear very feminine. With a muscular build and deep voice it is easy to understand how the rumours developed. Having now submitted to tests the result of which will be made known only in November this year, the public and local- and international media continues to speculate. The manner in which the issue have been dealt with is, in my opinion, deplorable. The poor woman has been degraded and her athletic achievement diminished and now could be permanently tarnished. If she is found to be a hermaphrodite or intersex it could be argued that she had an unfair advantage and how this will affect her career one can only assume it’s going to be utter devastation.
The exact number of hermaphrodites and intersex individuals in the world is unknown to me. The little that I do know is that in some hermaphrodite cases the parents are given an informed choice by a doctor to decide what gender the child would keep when corrective surgery is preformed. However, even after corrective surgery it can not be guaranteed that the person will be comfortable with their assigned gender later in life and their sexual preference could also pose a challenge.

Being born intersex or hermaphrodite and having a relationship with a person of any other gender, could that person be classified as being in a homosexual relationship? In Semenya’s case her physical appearance and traits could make one assume that she might be a stereotypical “butch lesbian”, and if she is found to be an intersex or hermaphrodite even in a “heterosexual” relationship her biology could qualify her “technically” to also be homosexual.
In the gay community we seem to prefer to only include Gays, Lesbians, Bi-Sexuals and Transsexuals (GLBT) and noticeably omit hermaphrodites and intersex people. This made me to further wonder why this is. Is the gay community purposefully shying away from this group due to the stigma associated with them or is their case so highly unique that their inclusion is not justified?
In the case of hermaphrodites and intersex people it is often congenital and is a physical biological anomaly that occurs in 0.1% to 0.2% of all births, therefore making the condition rare, unique and a physical deformity. Yes, it can be argued that no matter whether corrective surgery have been preformed on them or not they would inevitably end up being in a homosexual relationship no matter what their actual sexual preference. It is my opinion that this segment of society does not qualify for inclusion in the GLBT community, as true homosexuality entails both parties in a relationship to be attracted to the same gender and that the chromosome and genital anomalies of the one party does not truly make such a person or that relationship gay. Being a member of a minority group I have a natural tendency to be fiercely protective of any other minority groups, hermaphrodites and intersex people are no different. They are people that didn’t choose to be born in the bodies they have, some living with an embarrassing secret and others when exposed are left to pick up the shattered pieces of their lives alone.

The case of Caster Semenya truly is an interesting one, but she is by no means the first athlete who has been shrouded in this type of controversy. The same happened to the Indian athlete Santhi Soundarajan who was stripped of her medal at the 2006 Asian Games after failing a gender verification test and was found to be a hermaphrodite. Perhaps the earliest case was Stanislawa Walasiewicz (aka Stella Walsh) a Polish athlete who won a gold medal at the 1932 Summer Olympics in Los Angeles, but who after her death in 1980 was discovered to have had partially developed male genitalia. What will happen to Semenya? I guess we will have to wait and see. Did she want to become world famous due to perhaps being a hermaphrodite, I think not. Never the less, what ever the outcome I believe Semenya should be supported.

Till next time.

Michael Johnson's views on Caster Semenya

3 Tons of Fun and the Coke Head!

Hairstylist much like fashion designers can be quite bitchy and fiercely competitive creatures. This past Sunday hubby and I were invited to attend the Trend Vision South African Finals of which our hairstylist was a finalist. If you put a bunch of hairstylist together in one room under stressful conditions and throw alcohol into the mix it can only lead to one thing – a party and tons of fun!!!

Our stylist have been preparing for this competition for the last nine months, working tirelessly to perfect his colour and cut and hubby was commissioned to design the outfit that would complete the final look. Months of planning, stress and hard work would culminate into this one day of judging and a final runway show that would determine who would win and have the honor to compete at the International finals in Berlin Germany later this year.
On arrival at the hotel the staff immediately knew that we were part of the Wella Group Booking, I think the blond and the black Mohawks pretty much gave us away. We settled into our quirky room waiting to hook up with our stylist, his wife and their model. Upon their arrival our stylist was slightly boozed up already, and as his wife pointed out that you could tell he was tipsy by his wondering left eye. We had a few glasses as champagne before they disappeared for the final rehearsal. The model was instructed to intimidate all the other models as only she can. Earlier that day two woman were talking about her in hearing distance and said she was beautiful, tactful as she is she turned to them with a polite smile saying “yes, I am” – you cannot buy self-confidence like that!
An hour before the show was scheduled to start hubby and I and the rest of the “poofter possy” decided to queue in front of the door, as there were no reserved seats. The moment that door opened a mini stamped ensued as we were all elbowing people out of the way and recklessly throwing our tickets at the staff as we rushed to claim the best seats in the house. Settling into our front row seats the show started. We were entertained with a trapeze act and a cabaret show by three obese ladies appropriately named “3 Tons of Fun”. When our stylist model emerged from a cloud of smoke my jaw dropped with amazement. They truly saved the best for last. Our stylist nailed it, and the model burned up that runway with oozing self-confidence and dramatic flare.

After being wowed, the talented 3 tons of lard entertained with a few more melodies. After what felt like an eternity the 3 whales left the stage just before it could buckle and the results was announced. When it came to our stylist’s category my hands were sweating and I could hear my heart beat in chest. Our stylist was sitting in a strained attention with his wife tucked into his arm. When the words “and the winner is” was uttered a dramatic paused followed with the whole of the poofter possy softly vocalizing our stylist’s name. Then our stylist’s name graced the announcer’s lips and nine months of hard work finally paid off – triumph!!!
Then the party started and alcohol flowed. Many congratulations and drinks came my stylist way and the odd bitchy remarks by sore losers could not be avoided. As we all got juiced up some other people got high. Two ladies in particular seemed to have enjoyed their little white powders too much and they were obviously in an altered state of reality. One coke head introduced herself to me as the “fairy princess” and the other one had an inappropriate relationship with a white feather. The most amusing part was one of the salon staff members who loves her tequila (as do I) who didn’t want to go home and kept on hiding behind hubby and I and at one stage leopard crawling to the bar thinking her boyfriend (who was responsible and did not drink) would not see her. Well he did, allowed her one more tequila and then very diplomatically took her drunken ass home. Naturally, after they kicked us out of the venue at midnight we took the party to the hotel. Hubby missed a few steps on our way there to the great amusement of the group. The model said that if they won she would streak through the hotel and the stylist would join her wearing her bra. So guess what, she did! I accompanied the two crazy semi-naked people through 3 floors of the hotel. Strangely enough even in his drunken state my stylist noticed the CCTV cameras and was worried security would kick us out. Personally, I think the people in the security control room had loads of fun watching our antics and that the security video should be on YouTube soon. At least I had all my clothes on and nobody was “technically” naked, but indecent we were indeed.

After a couple of hours sleep it was time to check out. Tequila and their friends left quite a mess in my head after their party and I felt like death warmed up. Protected by my sunglasses I proceeded to settle our account. The hotel seemed brighter than usual and the staff and their little gadgets excessively loud and abrasive. After forcing some food into my body and a strong cup of coffee, we were on our way home where I spent the better part of the day nursing my hang-over.

Looking back on the competition and the party we had, I am tremendously proud of our stylist for winning and being a representative of South Africa’s best talent abroad in Berlin. I am sure he and his team will do us proud. The only draw back is that we aren’t going with and hubby’s fashion creations seems to travel more than he does; having been to London, Milan, Paris and now Berlin. Concerning the party, it was great fun but once a year is quite enough as anymore would definitely lead to my liver asking for a bail out.

Till next time.


BLACK BRIDE SEBASTIAN NORWAY

Rear Ended!

How I just adore ending a busy not so pleasant week with a bang. I have only been in two car accidents in my whole life, both rather minor. Being a good driver I firmly believed that I would not be in a third. Gosh, how presumptuous can one be. So today at 2:20pm, on a clear spring day it happened. I was rear ended and not in a good way. Being slightly shaken, a little bit pissed off and grossly annoyed I have to go jump like a show dog through several hoops to get my insurance to pay out. The prospect of this unexpected additional drudgery is turning this little “ray of sun shine” into a “little thundercloud”. Regardless how I may feel, I am glad I have insurance.
Minding my own business at a slip way with my car peacefully idling and waiting my turn to enter the road I am abruptly jerked out of my Zen serenity. Without warning my car flies forward, my sunglasses is ripped of my face and in the shock of moment I am left confused: What just happened? Did I take my foot of the clutch by accident? If I did that then way was there a load noise? As my car comes to a halt and my eyes readjust to the sharp sunlight, I pick up my sun glasses from the dashboard put them back on and look into my rear view mirror. Behind me I see a white car with a very pale and shocked driver and passenger. The horrified expression on their faces notified to what transpired – they crashed into me. As the bitch in me wanted to surface I remembered what my mom use to say “always be nice when you’re in an accident, people do not give you their correct details if they think you are going to kill them!” So, I rummaged through my gay man bag for a pen and paper. I took a couple deep breaths before exiting my car to prepare me for the shock I was to find on inspecting the damage.
As I stepped out of my car walking towards the back of it I noticed the other car’s windscreen was cracked on two places – two places where the driver and his passenger hit their heads. They were not wearing safety belts. Still being pissed off I was concerned that they might be injured so I walked over to their car to ask them if they were ok. The driver looked scared as this angry platinum blond gay guy who is visibly fuming was making his way towards him. Reaching their car with his now almost completely rolled window I asked two questions “Are you guys ok?” and “Do you have insurance?”. He answered in the affirmative to both. I then proceeded to ask him to get out his car so I could take down his details. The front his car was completely wrecked and the back of my car damaged but less severely in comparison. While taking down his details he begged me not to phone his dad before he had a chance to speak to him first. Honestly at that point I could give a damn about what his father was going to do to him, but I respected his wishes as I knew for sure he was going to be in trouble anyway.
Arriving at the police station to report the accident my calm demeanor soon changed as I was informed I had to go to another police station to file a report - the accident didn’t happen in their jurisdiction. That was so the wrong thing to say to me at that time! Feeling like I just went through a traumatic event I decided to throw a hissy fit, as only a slightly effeminate gay guy can. I refused to go to another station and demanded to file my report there. There was absolutely no reasoning with this blond as I was now angry and determined. For some reason the police officer thought raising his voice would get his point across. Naturally I also raised mine in response and told him there was nothing wrong with my hearing and whether he liked it or not I will file my report with them. By this time the whole of the police station was looking at me as if I was crazy. In retrospect it was more post traumatic shock than being crazy, but I did get my way at the end.

Arriving home I contacted my insurance company, calmly informed them of my splendid afternoon and they e-mailed me their claim form with an annexure with a detailed description of everything I have to do, get and go through to get my car fixed. It took me a while to complete the form being asked everything apart from requesting a DNA sample. So on Monday I will be getting quotes, possibly throwing more hissy fits, and bitching about it to all that that will listen and also those who don’t. Being in an accident is an inconvenience but I am grateful no one got hurt. At least everyone is still alive; our cars are dented and we will be adding additional chores to our busy schedules, but shit happens! Like a friend have been quoted as saying “Put your big girl panties on and deal with it” so deal with it I will.

Till next time.

Kathy Griffin - Allegedly