Emergency Room

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Till next time.

Horrific News

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Till next time.

Tommy Ryman at the Joke Joint

Hot Flash!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Till next time.

Katy Perry FIREWORK!! parody by SHERRY VINE

8th Most Dangerous Country!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Till next time.

Straight Gay Guy - Comedy Time

The Best Thing About Me Is You

My 10 Secrets!

Here are 10 things many of you who frequently read my Blog didn’t know about me. It’s not vitally important facts but I thought it would be fun to share my 10 not so secret secrets.

(1.) I’m a little psychic. Both my maternal and paternal grandmothers were psychic. The one could read tea leaves and hand palms and the other saw visions. I guess I inherited a little paranormal mojo from the both of them and I now have a killer intuition.

(2.) I can read the Tarot cards. For a couple of years I earned a living off my inherited physic powers and I did Tarot Card readings for approximately almost a 1000 people. I retired my Tarot cards because other people’s problems depressed me.

(3.) I will die in a plane crash and they’ll never find my body. Another psychic once did a reading for me and told me many things that came to fruition. She also told me I will die in a plane crash when I’m very old - I guess I’ll have to wait and see if she was right.

(4.) Half of the houses I have lived in were haunted. In my life, thus far, I have lived in 12 houses and 6 of them we shared with ghosts. The most memorable ones were the old man that used to climb the stairs and walk past my garden flat and the old man at our current house – both eventually moved on.

(5.) I can grow a full beard in 4 days. My facial hair grows ferociously fast and I have to shave twice a day (that’s when we go out at night that is). The longest I have gone, since reaching puberty, without shaving is 3 days and I looked like a Survivor contestant on day 28.

(6.) I have a uni-brow like Frieda Kahlo. Not many people know this because I shave it off once I day. The lady that waxes me and does my eyebrows have reprimanded me about this bad shaving habit many times, but I still continue to do so.

(7.) The moon affects my emotions. Whenever there is a full moon I get restless and moody and my husband follows the lunar calendar closely because of it. I use to try to counteract the moon’s affects on me, but I eventually gave up and made peace with my full moon craziness.

(8.) My natural eye color is red. All the boys on my maternal grandmother’s side of the family have blue eyes and I do too, but my eyes are sensitive and easily irritated. Consequently, the majority of the time my eyes are red and it’s one of my major causes of discontent.

(9.) I curse like a sailor. Unfortunately I have a bit of a potty mouth and frequently drop the F-bomb. My most frequently used curse words are: Fuck, Shit, Bitch, Son of a Bitch, Asshole and Bullshit! Curse words I don’t like are: Pussy, Jesus, God and Mother Fucker.

(10.) I suffer from chronic insomnia. As a teenager and into my mid twenties I could sleep between 8-12 hours a day, but this changed during my late twenties and now an average night's sleep for me is between 4-6 hours. The only upside to this is the fact that I can get allot more done with that extra 18-20 hours in my day.

Till next time.

We're all a Tad Crazy Sometimes

Life would be boring had we all been completely sane all of the time. We all have our little meltdowns, crazy moments and habits that other people find bizarre and makes us appear to be two eggs short of a dozen. Having received a text message yesterday regarding a former colleague’s apparent nervous breakdown (she made a number two on the bathroom floor, at work, instead of in the toilet and thought this was normal), I couldn’t help but ponder on my idiosyncrasies and the things I do, think and believe that, at times, too make me appear somewhat, shall I say, crazy.

Spending a day in my head would be interesting for some people and utterly frightening for others. You see the world according to me have certain rules; rules that one must abide by out of respect not only for yourself but also for those around you. Therefore, out of respect for your neighbors never leave the house in ugly clothes not even when taking out the trash. Performing menial task like this requires a certain amount of dignity and a robe, PJ’s and slippers is unacceptable. But there are other household chores that require less pageantry and more imagination.

Washing the dishes is something I absolutely dread and I never attempt it without rubber gloves. And this too have a certain routine to it. The dish water must be absolutely boiling hot and the items are always washed in a certain order. Seeing as this is a chore I loathe I make it more bearable for myself by wearing an imaginary tiara and sometimes I would even attempt singing. But, luckily for me we now own a dishwasher – the best invention by mankind in all of history. I still would wear my imaginary tiara while rinsing of the dishes before stacking them in my little magic cleaner, but instead of 20 minutes of washing it now only takes me 5, leaving me more time for my other queer habits like smelling my cats.

There’s a saying that reads “Always take the time to smell the roses”, well the same is true for cats. I would sniff my cats at least a couple of times a week and it relaxes me, they don’t particularly like it, but hey if they can smell each other’s asses I can sniff their fur. I believe smelling your cats is not only a unique way of showing them how much you love them and but also is a very effective way of checking up on their personal hygiene. After all, on completion of a good snuffing session they inevitably would end up spending an hour bathing themselves. Cats not only smell nice but they are also superb listeners too.

I have had many serious conversations with my cats about pressing issues. They don’t always appear to be enthralled by my discourse, but they always listen and sometimes they would even talk back. Other good listeners are telemarketers. Often times when I am bored and there are no Jehovah Witness around, I would engage telemarketers in heartfelt conversations. I amuse myself by asking them deeply personal questions about their personal lives, why they are still single, how strong they think their marriages/relationships are, whether they have ever cheated on their partners and whether God really exists. You’d be surprised by the responses I have had and how incapable they are of hanging up the phone in your ear. And this brings me to the issue of sex.

Most of us who are lucky have sex often and in order to do so one requires certain products, like condoms and KY. Frankly speaking I find purchasing these products embarrassing as the cashiers always looks at me judgingly and I know they know I am having sex. Buying sex aids became my husband’s responsibility three years ago after a rather awkward situation at a certain drug store with an over eager sales person that involved a crowd, condoms and KY. Let’s just say it was not my finest moment and the sales person had a really bad day as did I. Curiosity did not serve her well, and the same goes for my housekeeper.

Our housekeeper is obsessed with how much stuff costs and her vexing obsession has caused me to develop a paranoia about receipts. You see whenever hubby or I buy something whether it’s new dining room chairs, groceries or clothes she would dig through the trash, find the receipts and comment on how expensive and/or wasteful we are. It has reached a point where I am now shredding and hiding receipts from my maid. Sure we could fire her, but she is such a good housekeeper, sparing with cleaning products and punctual, the discreet disposing of receipts seems a small price to pay! But one day her mammoth guilt trips and assiduous curiosity about my spending habits will lead to a colossal melt down, the type I rarely have, but when I do have them they are epic!

Screaming is something people do who don’t know how to use words and I always try to avoid it. When I have melt downs I don’t raise my voice, I do one of three things – I either cry hysterically, behave like an emotionally disturbed child or become ominously quiet. In all three cases it’s always best to avoid eye contact with me, stay at least three feet way and speak with a quiet mild toned indoor voice. Transgressions of any of these rules while I am in the midst of an emotional supernova is sure to leave anyone traumatized and in need of serious counseling because I will then squeal profanities at you with apocalyptic zeal!

The world is one big queer place filled with strange and wonderfully diverse people and I firmly believe part of being sane requires us to be a little crazy. Embracing the crazy sometimes also opens up a new appreciation for the little things that makes life so very special. Sure, I sometimes behave like a child, I hide receipts from my maid, talk too and smell my cats and wash the dishes with a tiara while singing GAGA, but hey life is too short not to!

Till next time.

Cher Talks About "Burlesque"

STR8 Against H8 2011 Calendar

In a new and super clever PR twist, the FCKH8 campaign against gay bullying just shot a 2011 calendar with a group of (pretty much naked) straight guys. You can buy the calendar here for $10 ($4 of which will go to fund the fight for equal rights & for queer youth suicide prevention). Check out the behind the scenes video below.

Making of Video: FCKH8 "STR8 AGAINST H8" 2011 Calendar from FCKH8.com on Vimeo.

2010: A Defining Year

What a year this has been! 2010 will go down in my history book as the year of great change, a year with defining moments, a year that challenged me and a year that changed me. It has been a long hard 12 months and now, with this my last blog post for 2010, I invite you to look back on 2010 with me and muse over all the highs and lows, the chuckles and tears, the excitement and frustrations and decisions and choices that encapsulate the year that was 2010.

One of the major changes this year was somewhat a costly one with the purchase and renovation of our new home. The year started with Madness, Paint and Chandeliers as we embarked on a renovation adventure that almost drove us to the Loony bin. But we prevailed and settled into Suburbia, Porn and Bubble Wrap. I also Saw Dead People and had to accept The Undesirables and the Golden Girl Brigade and at times was at War with nature and nature at War with me.

This year hubby and I also celebrated our 12 Year Anniversary and dropped a Bombshell as we finally decided to have children – a journey that will commence in 2011. Our furry children also provided for some bloody entertainment committing Murder Most Fowl teaching us that When Pussy Attacks death is swift but messy. I also dabbled in cooking exploring Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking, a venture that will continue well into the next 2 years and is sure to expand my waist line.

2010 also saw me travelling quite a bit. I was fortunate enough to welcome in 2010 at Madagascar; little did I know that this would not be my only international trip. I also travelled to Luxembourg and was in 3 Countries in 3 Days. Shortly after this I learned that the Bitch Lies and that my mobile phone GPS is not to be trusted. My last trip for 2010 was to Nairobi Kenya where I unexpectedly found myself in Transit Hell.

But this year wasn’t all business class travel and laughter it also had some tears. Homophobia Killed Again and this had me ask Would You Rather Have a Gay or a Dead Child and Are You Prepared to Die for What You Are? I questioned Heterosexual Separatist, Christian or Heterosexual Bigotry, the fundamentalist freaks and their so-called Same Sex Attraction Disorder, the homophobic Pope, wrote an open letter to Robert Mugabe, pondered on When A Continent Hates and dealt with some Gay Bitches. I also again received my fare share of Hate Mails, something I have now grown accustomed too. But amongst all the sadness hope was born in the forms of the It Will Get Better and We Give a Damn campaigns.

South Africa also had quite the year with the hosting of the 2010 Soccer World Cup. I unexpectedly became a soccer fan with a small crush on a Mr. Ronaldo and also received a Heterosexual Education in Sports. But South Africa also had a tough time with the Ugly Truth being revealed and had us face the reality that racism is still alive and well.

Technology also provided for some mind meanderings as I dealt with Computer Generated Friends and Techno Addiction and discovered that technology can be used for good or for evil. It was technology that lead to my disturbing discovery of Clown Porn, something that still evoke nightmares.

This year the GLBT community also provided for some interesting material. South Africa won the Mr. Gay World pageant that lead me to ask whether he was A Porn Star or Ambassador? I also questioned the relevance of Hunky Man Meat Pageant. Queer Myths was explained Twice, A Queer Perspective on Heterosexuality provided, Personality Whores explored and I even decided to start a cult – The Illuminates Faggotus!

And then there was my blog. 2010 saw my blog turning 1 year old and grew from a meager 10 followers to 333 on BlogSpot and a whopping 4 400+ fans on Facebook and to all of you I’d like to extend a humble thank you! (Not bad for a blog without Porn don't you think?) Thank you for reading it, coming back and spreading the word. Without you reading my blog it would be just another ghost ship in a vast ocean of blogs – a lonely voice in the abyss. As for Blog Awards 2010 confirmed yet again my Susan Lucci status of the blogosphere, always nominated but never winning. My little web page was a finalist in the 2010 Bloggies for best African Blog and the 2010 SA Blog Awards for Most Controversial Blog. I won’t lie, of course I was disappointed for not winning, but I was honored for being nominated and making it to the finals. Again, none of this would have happened if it wasn’t for you, thank you for nominating my blog and for all your votes!

There’s only 3 days left of 2010, and what a year it was. It was quite a ride and yes there was some speed bumps but for the most part the journey was exciting and fulfilling. Thank you for sharing this year with me and let’s raise our glasses and bid adieu 2010 and welcome in 2011. Here’s to a new year full of possibilities and new opportunities.

Happy New Year!

Till Next Time.

Gay Pimp Jonny McGovern "BOSSY BOTTOM" featuring Team Pimp (Not for the easily offended)

Hate Mail (The Final Installment)

The second and final installment of Joe's hate mail.  I trust that this will now conclude this saga of the man who clearly needs to find and accept himself.  I think we can all learn from Joe's struggle as I am sure he's not the only person in the world who feels this way.  So in the spirit of community let's reach out to our fellow GLBT people during this holiday season.

From Joe:

The majority fits this stereotype? It's around one in ten for me, in terms of people I've met (and like most young bi/gay males from rigid social backgrounds, I've "met" quite a lot of other gay males).

One in freakin ten. Tell me. . .how is that a "majority"?

You feel this way because you drive the others away. You only know other effeminate gay people, so thus you think you are the majority. In truth, you are not--but since you drive the rest of us into the shadows, you feel like there's a connection between obnoxiousness and being gay. There isn't.

I help the gay community by showing other young conservative/semi-conservative people what bisexual or gay males really are: normal people, who happen to prefer the same gender. Believe it or not, center-right people my age tend to be open-minded about homosexuality, far more so then our parents generation.

I'll be honest: I've felt excluded and discriminated against by people like you, and I'm sick of it. I'm not the only one either. We don't have diversity in the LGBT community. Just a small elite who exclude most of us. I hate it.

Joe

My Response:

Merry Christmas!

Firstly, I don’t want to be rude but from the sounds of it you’re projecting your personal issues and generalizing it to other people and blame the GLBT community for wronging and/or making you feel excluded and I seem like the an easy target for this. You have no idea who I am as a person and who I know or interact with on a daily basis. Therefore, the bold statement you are making are unfounded, uncalled for and I take great umbrage to these statements – and so should everyone!

Secondly, no person or group can drive other people into the shadows, people do this to themselves out of choice. You choose to live a secret, you choose to live a lie and you choose to be unhappy. If you choose to live in the shadows and is a straight acting man then this means you are still in the closet and is hardly setting a good example for anyone and most of all you are hurting yourself. Setting a good example would mean that you live your life with pride and not judge other people as you clearly are doing at present. Why can’t people live their lives without pretence?

You use the word obnoxious (Very annoying or objectionable; offensive or odious; Exposed to harm, injury, or evil; Deserving of or liable to censure) when referring to how I view being gay. Joe, I put it to you, this is NOT how I view being gay this is how you view yourself. My advice is that you come to accept your sexual orientation and learn to love yourself. If you don’t first accept who you, respect yourself and love yourself, how can you expect other people to?

Joe, stop being angry, stop hating and make an effort to make friends with the plethora of different people in the GLBT community. Once you have changed your mindset you’ll find that you do fit in, there are more people out there who would like you just the way you are than you currently think, and who knows you may even find the man of your dreams.

Good luck on your journey.

TomBoy  - It's Ok the be Gay

Hate Mail

I do not often post my hate mails on my blog, but every now and again I do get some interesting ones especially the ones I get from the GLBT community.  So here is the latest installment of my blog’s hate fest.

From Joe:

I've been bothered by something for a long time. Why do attempts at group solidarity (and the identity politics they spawn) always end up persecuting the very people who were supposed to be protected?

I'll be frank; I find your blog incredibly offensive. You perpetuate the stereotype of the flamboyant, annoying gay man. But in truth, most gay people don't feel defined by their sexuality, and many of us feel actively excluded from "gay culture." I find this incredibly frustrating, especially the myths straight people believe--that all gay men are annoying and flamboyant and effeminate--but in a fake, obnoxious way, not like the truly transgendered.

At some point this has to stop. We actively approve of our own stereotyping; how could this lead to anything other then discrimination? It's perfectly logical to oppose gay marriage from seeing this stereotype--that's why stereotypes are inherently discriminating, and we shouldn't be encouraging them!

I think gay rights makes headwinds from people knowing the gay members of their families who are brave enough to come out, not from loud, annoying, obnoxious groups that are the minority among the LGBT community. In general, I think it's insulting to gay, bisexual, and transgendered people, all of whom are heavily slandered.

My response:

Thanks for your e-mail. All GLBT people try to fight homophobia in our own way and whether you want to believe it or not the majority of gay people do fit the stereotype. I believe in embracing this rather than fighting it as more power is given back to the GLBT community when we stop trying to conform to what society wants us to be. I am a gay man and yes I am effeminate and I try to live my life proudly. None of us should be ashamed of who or what we are which, if I read your e-mail correctly, is what you suggest.

The GLBT community is represented by the rainbow flag symbolizing the diversity of our community. We are all different but we have some things in common – our sexuality, a history of discrimination and a vision and mission for equality. Whether you like it or not our sexual orientation do define how the world perceives us, but it sure do not define the totality of our lives.

I do respect your view, but I would like to ask you – what have you done thus far for the GLBT community and what example do you set to change the world’s perceptions of us, apart from shame?

A Royal Visit

This past weekend our home was paid a visit by royalty – royalty of the gay kind. You see we were visited by two Über Queens, the kind of queer royalty one can only achieve with age and experience. All gay brood are born into the majesty of fabulousness awaiting their turns to graduate from princesses in their succession line of this our invisible gay royal heritage. Becoming a full fletch gay Queen doesn’t just happen overnight like in the fairy tales, it takes time and effort. To become a Queen requires walking a path of which I believe not many princesses have the appropriate respect for or the courage to follow and this led me to ask, do we as a gay community still look up to our elders and pay them the necessary respect they deserve?

My husband’s gay uncle and his life partner paid us a long overdue visit. They have been together now for well over two decades, were forced to keep their relationship hidden for part of it and lived through a period of time when homosexuality was still illegal and would get you arrested – not unlike some current countries in our still homophobic world. So on Sunday they came over for lunch with my in-laws and we had a gay old time, sharing stories, reminiscing about the past and looking towards the future.

My father-in-law is your typical conservative patriarch whose world views have been severely challenged, first with having a gay brother-in-law since the early 1970’s although it wasn’t spoken off back then. Then he ends up having to deal with having a gay son during the late 1990’s and then during mid 2000 gaining a gay son-in-law, shortly followed during 2010 when he learned that during the following month or years he would become a grandfather courteously of his gay children. So when two generations of homosexuals gets together for lunch it’s not astonishing for him to be slightly uncomfortable.

The Queens came to lunch to celebrate an early Christmas as they were flying to their annual holiday to the Seychelles and would not be around on Christmas Eve or Christmas day. They arrived a fashionable 20 minutes late with the in-laws in toe. All was in a festive mood and the weather was perfect. As the visit started drinks were served and conversation flowed. My sister-in-law was fascinated with the Queens spiritual believes and we were promptly talked into a transcendental meditation course that will help us clear our negative energies and emit and attract positive and healing powers. Clearly something my father-in-law and brother-in-law didn’t care much for, so the latter will be duped into believing he’ll be attending a tantric sex course with his wife.

As the afternoon progressed some conversation clearly made my father-in-law uncomfortable and the Queens and even I found myself at some stages editing the words as they left my mouth. Talking about the dark gay years, clubbing, twinks and Queens and how the world have changed for queer folk made for some gripping topics. You see years ago when homosexuals still had to live their lives in the shadows and have sex in bushes life was hard. The gay community had to learn to be smart not only in the way they were hooking up but also in how they spent their lives together, so a new language was developed.

Back then gay folk never referred to their life partners outside the community and if confronted inevitably your boyfriend would be your roommate, housemate or special friend. And then there were the gay slang. Homosexuals frequently had to Linda (lie) when they were Barbara (scared) in a Donovan (dark) alley while trying to give a Sally (give a blow job) to a Clutch Bag (married man) and got caught by Betty Bangles (police). Most often they would try to Ronda (run) away and when things calmed down go look for a Bag (boyfriend) to Patsy (party) with later. And then in the early 1980’s there came the Aunty Aida (Aids) that scared the whole community. Many queer folk lost their friends while the world battled to come to grips with the Gay Related Immune Deficiency (GRID) now known as HIV/AIDS.

Being a Princess and not yet a Queen, hearing stories of the olden days and how difficult it use to be for queers I must say I have garnered allot of respect for all our Queens out there. The Queens who fought in the trenches in stilettos and leather to help the next generation attain the liberties and privileges they never had. The Queens who helped paved the way for people like my father-in-law to easier except my husband and I. The Queens who died of Aids and those who survived to help the world realized this is not only a gay disease.

As our Sunday lunch came to an end and the afternoon sun lost its heat, the Queens departed ready for their Christmas on a island paradise. The Queens not only left us with presents, their approval of our new home and blessings for our future child, they also left me with an appreciation of our gay history and an admiration and healthy respect for our Gay Royalty – God Save the Queen.

Till next time.

The Worst of The Worst

2010 have had its anti-gay moments.  This video highlights the worst of the worst of America’s anti-gay crazy folk courtesy of Midweek Politics.  Featured are the Family Research Institute, Truth About Homosexuality, Dove World Outreach Centre and the cream of the crop of delusional anti-gay rhetoric the Westboro Baptist Church.  I had a good laugh watching this video, and I think you will too.

Epic Anti-Gay Moments Highlight Reel...the Worst of the Worst

Would You Eat Me?

The other day friends and I were discussion the topic of organic and free range food. The main idea behind this is that certain foods and animals are farmed organically and allowed to roam free, nibbling on whatever they can find in addition to their normal feeding program. Everything is natural, no hormones, steroids or pesticides are used. The produce of this way of farming is then also considered healthier and to some tastier, safer on the environment and more socially responsible. Well I tried some free range lamb chops the other day, and I don’t know what shit the lamb nibbled on, but I didn’t like the taste of it. So naturally, I thought if animals taste different if they eat different foods, wouldn’t humans do too? And if I ever were forced to, for whatever reason, would I be able to taste the difference?

No, I am not advocating cannibalism, but just think about it. In 1972 with the Andes Flight Disaster 16 survivors faced starvation and were stranded for 72 days before being rescued. Facing starvation and fighting to stay alive the survivors eventually started eating their dead fellow passengers. Similar cases have also been documented in our recent past where cannibalism occurred out of necessity, although not many of the people involved are willing to admit to it. As disgusting as eating your mate seems, the reality is that this could also happen to you! With this thought in mind I started asking myself some serious and peculiar questions.

Should I be in a plane crash and survive, would I be willing to cross that line? Well, I don’t know, but this spiked my interest and led me to question the following. Once the repulsion of having to eat another human being is replaced with desperation and hunger, would a vegetarian passenger taste different from a vegan, an healthy meat eating person taste different from a diabetic and would Caucasians’ meat be tougher or more tender than that of an Asian. Would homosexuals be fruitier than heterosexual people? Men taste better than women?  Would South Africans be less or more fatty than Americans?

Naturally if animals’ taste differs due to what they are fed, surely humans would too. Contemplate this for moment. In all countries there are different types of department stores whose products differ vastly in quality and price. Some sell top of the range imported fresh produce, organically farmed vegetables and the meat of animals that lived stress free lives, were pampered and fed only the best. Then there are stores that sell products of lesser quality and the meat of animals that were sent to their deaths screaming in questionable abattoirs. The more affluent in society will opt for the more expensive stores and normal working class folk for the affordable ones, so will you be able to taste the difference between the rich, working class and the poor? Would the rich passengers taste like Wagyu steaks and the working class like rib eye?

Working from the assumption that people would taste different due to their social standing, culinary preferences, race and general health would this influence your pick in dinner? After the plane has crashed and you survived what would the next step be? I would assume that the dead passengers would have to be organized and categorized and the best specimens clearly marked and preserved for once all the airplane food runs out. Now I have no idea how to prepare and cook a person, but one thing is for sure – if I am ever faced with a situation as dire as this I will have to be served the food with condiments, spices and booze. But what goes with human?

Well, I can only assume that garlic, rosemary, cloves, bay leaves and any other strong herb will have to be used. I don’t want to think that we would taste like venison or pork, but in all probability we will taste like chicken. After all whenever anyone eats anything strange and is later asked what it tasted like they inevitably say CHICKEN. So some sage and thyme would be essential. I guess as time passes and the survivors eat their way through the rich, poor, vegans, vegetarians, carnivores, heterosexuals, homosexuals, Caucasians, Asians, Blacks and whatever other race was on the menu, each individual temporary cannibal would identify their favourite. My favourite meat is lamb, maybe in that situation it would be an Indian Vegan or a Caucasian Vegetarian with high blood pressure. Again I hope I never have to find out!

All your French and Italian culinary skills would be tested to the limit in case of such a tragedy. For one, I suspect there would not be many tools to cook with and unless you have a former Survivor cast member on your doomed flight who survived, in all probability you won’t have any fire as well. Secondly, I don’t think there are any classes in human meat preparation apart from anatomy classes in Medical School so unless you were unfortunate enough to have a cannibalistic serial killer on board, whom have had some prior practice in this filed, you won’t have any prime cut meat for dinner. And if you do, chances are good that you may not live much longer anyway.

As so many of us will be travelling to our respective holiday destinations this December, flying out to be with our families and some even travelling by boat, just remember the Andes Disaster and always be ready for the unexpected. You never know when or where you may be marooned and you may have to prepare and eat your mate, fellow passengers and/or your captain. So the next time I board a flight I will be sure to be packing some extra condiments and spices and if you are sitting next to me and you wonder why I ask about your health and eating habits, now you know why.

Bon Appétit! Till Next Time!

The Flames of Hell's Kitchen #1