My Bucket List

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Till next time.

Mother Nature I Curse You!

It’s that time of year.  Animals are fornicating and plants are procreating and nature’s debauchery that is called spring is fucking with my allergies.  Each year for a full six weeks I walk around wishing that gasmasks were in fashion and that I could wear one everywhere I go.  But this would not be socially acceptable and would most probably freak people out, so I have to settle for antihistamines, a nose spray and eye drops.  I now know how drug addicts must feel, instead of getting withdrawals if I don’t take my drugs I get blood shot eyes, sinus and persistent sneezing which I am convinced kills brain cells.  Mother Nature can be such a bitch and this is why I hate spring.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the fact that spring hails a farewell to winter, the fact that my garden seem to come alive with new flowers and that the dullness of winter is replaced with vibrant new greenery.  I also love the sweet perfume of jasmine and purple rain that permeates the air in my garden and watching bees gorge themselves on pollen and nectar.  But what I love about spring is also the things that literally make me feel like I want to die.  You see I have severe allergies.  The kind of allergies that could justify me being encased in a bubble filled with purified air and that is medically sterile.  I am allergic to just about everything except cats.  Ok, so I lie.  I am a little allergic to cats too and we have five.

Spring is the one time of year that my medical aid must think that I am a total hypochondriac, with on average about 3-5 doctor visit during this time every year.  You see when my allergies flare up it does so epically.  I look and feel like death warmed up with eyes so red it looks like I partied hard the previous night and that I smoked a whole case load of marijuana.  My voice goes and my nose start running like it’s preparing for a marathon.  It also usually doesn’t stop there.  Every year I get an eye infection which is referred to as chronic allergy related pinkeye and when I am really lucky I will also get an ear infection.  This year I had both twice and spring is not even really in full swing yet.

In an effort to at least try and make our house on the inside tolerable for me I bought an air purifier.  It’s a machine that sucks in air then takes out all the impurities such as dust and pollen and also kills any germs and bacteria that floats around and then blows out the clean air.  You can also add special concentrated extracts into the water that smells nice and helps you to relax.  I guess it is doing its job because neither hubby nor I have been sick since I bought it, but I suspect I need an industrial sized one to completely get rid of my allergies and make our house on the inside 100% pollen free.  Things have gotten so bad that if you stand outside in the garden you can physically see the pollen floating around in the air and it is making my bronchi and corneas shit themselves.

When we were house hunting we had very specific requirements, one of them being that the property should have no grass.  You see I am allergic to grass and we didn’t want to spend our weekends having to mow the lawn.  Life is too short the waste it behind a lawnmower where as you could rather spend it with a cocktail in the pool.  We also had a list of trees and plants, which we at that time, knew I was allergic too.  So when we found our house it “semi” fit the bill and we then proceeded to address the “semi” part and did some renovations.  The one thing we however neglected to research was some of the plants that were already in our garden and some of the trees and hedges of our neighbors.  So came spring, that first year we lived in the house, and I was unpleasantly caught off guard and found myself to be a whimpering snot filled ruby red eyed hot mess.  I was at ground zero of a pollen explosion of mammoth proportions.  It was like the Hiroshima and Nagasaki of allergy and pollen hell, and I was trapped in the middle!

It’s embarrassing having to go to work looking like you washed your eyes out with acid, having sneezing attacks that last longer than 45 seconds and having been blessed by more people in one day than a visitor to Vatican City.  It’s embarrassing having to stand nervously in line at the pharmacy looking like a meth addict waiting to get your allergy alleviating drugs.  But I have no choice.  I love our house and we still owe a shit load of money on the bond so we need to stay.  It’s also not like I can tell my neighbors to cut down their trees and remove certain hedges just because I am seriously allergic to them.  So, I do the only thing I can.  For six weeks every year I curse Mother Nature and call her things that’s not becoming of a lady.  But the bitch doesn’t listen and clearly she doesn’t care.  If only rapid weight loss was also a side effect of severe allergies, maybe all this suffering would be worth something.  But instead I have to diet AND suffer from allergies.  Gawd I hate spring!

Till next time.

Panic Attack!

It may come as a surprise to some people but I actually have a real job.  You know the kind that pays the bills.  Seeing as I have never made any money from blogging and probably never will, I do need something that can sustain my and hubby’s “lavish” lifestyle.  But in the real world all is not always sunshine and roses and of late things have been rather (how should I put it) stressful in my work environment.  The fact that I also had to visit the dentist once a week for the last three weeks and having had to get two filling and a root canal also did not contribute to alleviate my stress levels.  All of this then also contributed to me having my first serious panic attack on Monday and it was not pretty.  It was not pretty at all!

Those who know me well understand that August is never a good month for me.  It seems that each year shit goes down in the month of August and bad things happen.  Being a professional sailor down the river of denial, I usually ignore unpleasant things until it goes away (I have learned this skill from my cats, they are fucking good at it.)  But denial can only work up to a point.  You see even when I am under a fuck load of stress I usually have the ability to suppress it and I also don’t really ever get seriously angry about anything.  I call this having excellent coping mechanisms and vodka.  Unfortunately, the human body is a mean bitch and sometimes when you try and lie to yourself, particularly about stress, the bitch gives you a reality check and it’s normally not pleasant.  And this is exactly what happened to me.

On Monday our new security company’s representative came to my office in order for me to sign some papers.  I fired our previous security company and it’s a long story.  While in this meeting all was going well up on to five minutes into it.  As unexpectedly as a crack whore appearing in a dark alley it hit me.  I started feeling woozy, my heart began beating rapidly, I could not breath, I started shaking like a Parkinson patient, sweating and I literally felt like I was going to die.  All this in front of a complete stranger who sat there looking at me horrified.  I was having a full blown panic attack and I was desperately trying to keep things together and look normal.  “Are you ok?” the guy asked me looking all concerned.  “Yes… I am fine” I lied.  After about three minutes I realized there was no use trying to fight the panic attack and I eventually said “I’m having a panic attack, I need a few minutes.  Don’t judge me!”

The panic attack lasted a good ten minutes and it was terrifying.  Having one in the privacy of your own office, house or car is fine, but having one in front of a complete stranger in the voyeur of your office with people walking past rates right up there on the embarrassment scale with shitting your own pants.  So, I phoned my doctor and scheduled an appointment.  This guy has been my on-and-off physician for well over ten years and he knows me and some of my embarrassing medical issues well, and I trust him.  Sitting in his consulting room I remember thinking “What. The. Fuck?!  I have worked undercover where I almost got killed and I didn’t have panic attacks then.  Why the hell is this happening to me now?!”  The doctor then proceed to explain that if you suppress stress for too long eventually your body will rebel and it does this normally by stomach ulcers and panic attacks.  With my blood pressure having been 173/135 I could have had a heart attack.  Or like I like to call it - a myocardial infarction due to bullshit overload.

The doctor proceeded to tell me that having panic attacks while under extreme stress is nothing to be ashamed off and he prescribed me some “happy” and “don’t give a fuck” pills.  So the next day I was as chilled out as a stoner at a Bob Marley concert.  It was nice working at the office all mellowed out, having the world seem like I was a couple seconds behind it and driving to work thinking that all taxi drivers are such great drivers.  But, unfortunately my little piece of medicated nirvana was not to last long.  Timing is everything and never let anyone tell you any different.  This counts for both good and bad things.  You see after what can be described as a rather uneventful day I arrived home and went about my normal routine of being a domestic diva.  I fed the cats and tortoise, began with the laundry and prepared dinner.  Then it happened, some asshole on Facebook told me that I should slit my wrists.

Being quite use to receiving hate mail I am not normally too phased by it.  Mostly they have strong religious undertones to them, tell me that I am going to hell and even that they wish that I would get AIDS and die.  Surprisingly, I have also received my fair share of hate mails from disgruntled queer folks, so I really thought that I have seen it all.  I was wrong.  This fucktard took hate mail to a whole other level.  This sad queen wrote I should slit my wrists, or if I don’t want to do that he will give me a toaster to throw into my bath because he would love to see me drown in my own piss and shit.  How fucked up must one person be to say or write something like that to another person?  Suicide is no fucking laughing matter and if this is the type of fantasies this guy is having there must be something seriously wrong in his pathetic little head.  It really upset me and this psycho’s timing really sucked.  All I have to say to that man is FUCK YOU! (Clearly my happy pills are not strong enough to deal with certain fuckwads)

As that was not enough, today I am going for my second round of my root canal and this time around I am less panicked about it than the first time around.  My dentist did a fantastic job the previous time and I know I am in excellent hands.  But that being said this week have sucked donkey balls.  Starting my week off with a panic attack and then receiving the most disturbing hate mail to date, I can honestly say this has been the worst week of this whole year.  But, fortunately there’s medication for that and it is fabulous.  I know this is not a permanent solution but for the interim this will have to do.  Bitch be chilled.

Till next time.

Facebook thinks I’m a Pornographer!

Oops I did it again.  This week Facebook blocked me for 24 hours. This is their version of sending you to the corner for being a very naughty boy.  Apparently, some fucktard reported a certain photo which I uploaded to my fan page resulting in the gods at Facebook thinking that I am a “pornographer”.  Don’t get me wrong, I love my porn just as much as the next fag, but there’s a time and a place for porn and Facebook is not the place for it.  Besides who goes onto Facebook armed with lube and tissues ready to molest themselves?  Not me, that’s why we have Tumblr.  But I digress…

As you know I have made some enemies through the couple of years that I have been blogging (3 years to be exact).  Having enemies and people who hate you isn’t necessarily a bad thing.  I take it as a sign that I am doing something right and sometimes their hate mails are seriously funny, especially the ones that like quoting Leviticus.  But every so often one of those people does something that seriously inconveniences me.  Sometimes they report me to Facebook and on occasion I am punished for it like the dirty bad boy that I am.  In the last 3 years I have been banned from Facebook twice, have been blocked 7 times and even received an email from Facebook accusing me of Hate Speech.

Now we all know there are some seriously fucked up people on Facebook and I have blogged about this before.  Those folks who are offended by the world, lives in a bubble of ignorance and waves around their intolerance as if it is an Olympic event.  It really is a pity that their profiles don’t come with a mandatory idiot warning and that there isn’t a Facebook app that can block them outright.  But the world needs idiots and whether we like it or not – they are here to stay.  Besides if there weren’t any idiots who would we laugh at?

With my latest incident on Facebook I have come to the conclusion that maybe some folks need to download themselves a sense of humor.  Because whoever got offended by a naked man’s butt cheeks and is incapable of thinking that the “offensive” picture is funny needs to go on some strong medication.  Have these people not seen some of the really nasty shit other people upload to Facebook?

I have blocked and banned so many people from my one Facebook group because of the stuff they post there.  I have had to report and delete hundreds of pictures of cocks, cum, fisting, water sports, vaginas, and stuff people like to shove up their assholes.  I didn’t see those people get blocked or banned from Facebook.  Could it be that Facebook have a problem with pictures that are not hardcore enough?  If the man had a dildo hanging from his rectum would that have been ok?  One can only wonder.

The previous time Facebook gave me a timeout was because of a picture I uploaded of nuns painting a naked man.  Again the only thing you could see was his very nice and tight ass.  That too “offended” someone so much that they just could help themselves but to report it.  I wonder whether that person did it before or after they masturbated.  It seems that Facebook has double standards and that some on Facebook, especially heterosexuals Christians, are more equal than others.  Since I created my Fan page I have encountered numerous problems due to people reporting my page.  The culprits were mostly the fanatical religious far right.  The same people who also have fan pages devoted to their anti-gay rhetoric and dire tripe.  The same people who propose that all homosexuals should be killed and that we are abominations.  Yet these people are allowed to preach their hate on Facebook and that seems to be ok.

The world seems to be filled with double standards especially when it comes to gay people, so why should Facebook be any different?  With over 8000 likes on my fan page and with over 700 people having shared the picture that got me blocked for 24 hours, I couldn’t help but wonder whether we are being picked on.  It’s not my fault the photo went viral.  It’s not my fault it was fucking funny.  Did the person at Facebook who ultimately decided to block me not use his/her discretion and realize this was a malicious report?  Could that person not see the humor in it or was the decision to block me based on my fan page’s name and the fact that it is dedicated to LGBT news and issues.  Was that person homophobic?  Who knows…

One thing is for sure – I will not lose sleep over this.  This queer has more important things to worry about other than scared little homophobes trolling Facebook trying to take out one homosexual at a time by maliciously reporting them.  If that is the only thing that gives them pleasure in their sad little lives then who am I to take it away from them.  I will much rather focus my attention on what is really important: Recruiting homosexuals to ensure that Queer HQ is prepared and well resourced for our end game – Taking Over The World!  Suck on that Homophobes!

So Facebook thinks I am a pornographer, who the fuck cares.  I don’t know what type of porn they are watching or downloading but something gives me the idea that they are doing it wrong.  At least my 24 hour ban is over and all is back to normal.  As for the person who reported me, I have three words for you: Go. Fuck. Yourself.  Just try not to do it in front of a mirror; we don’t want you to offend yourself now do we.

Till next time.

Gay & Fabulous

Every so often I come across LGBT signs and pictures on the internet that grabs my attention.  Some are funny mostly because they are true.  Here are some of the most recent ones I stumbled upon.

When Your Worst Fear Comes True

My worst fear is about to come true.  No, not the one where I am eaten alive by a great white shark, or the one where I have to base jump off a large building or the one where I have to give a speech in front of a thousand people and once on the podium I realize I forgot my speech.  No, this is so much worse than that and it sends petrified shivers down my spine and makes me want to scream crying “Why me?  WHY ME?!”  You see, after thirty something years of flawless dental care, having never had a single cavity and after 16 months of orthodontic hell, this week I learned that I need to get a fucking root canal.  And I am terrified!

I have always been proud of myself for my very exemplary dental care.  I brush my teeth two to three times a day, floss more frequently than a crack whore gets laid and have my teeth professionally cleaned every three to six months.  The reason I think I have been so meticulous in caring for my teeth is the fact that, deep down, I am scared of dentists.  Ever since I can remember the weird sounds echoing from the dentist chair into the waiting area had me breaking out in a cold sweat, had me clenching my fists so hard that my knuckles went white and caused me to develop a weird facial tick every time I walk through a dentist’s door.  The sound of drilling gives me nightmares and I have always vowed that I would never ever have a cavity or any dental issue that require the dentist to drill holes into any of my teeth.  But alas you don’t always get what you want and sometimes nightmares come true.  Life is a bitch like that.

Last week after my braces came off my orthodontist (Dr Antoinette du Toit) checked my teeth.  After the cement was removed and some of my teeth were reshaped it appeared as if some of my teeth got damaged and needed to be fixed.  She also noticed that I had four teeth that were about to form cavities and she referred me to her daughter, who is a dentist, to get fillings for those identified teeth as a proactive and preemptive fuck you to tooth decay.  Having never had a cavity in my life (I do feel that I cannot emphasize this enough) I was understandably nervous to get fillings.  I knew that there would be drilling involved and I needed to prepare myself mentally.  So I did what any self-respecting homosexual would do – I took a tranquilizer before my appointment.

Arriving at Dr Roos’s practice (I have threatened that I would blog about her so she can’t fuck anything up) the receptionist could tell that I was nervous as all hell.  I was trembling like a caffeine addict at a decaf convention.  After scribbling down some of my details in my rather illegible handwriting I was ushered into the exam room, sat down on the chair and possibly told Dr Roos ten times that I was nervous.  So she looked at me and said “Everybody hates dentists and everybody is nervous, so don’t worry about it I won’t hurt you”.  This was then affirmed by her assistant and I was promised that I wouldn’t feel a thing.  I didn’t believe either of them and I was wondering whether they had any restraining straps hidden in the room somewhere because I was convinced that they may have to tie me down at some point.

Before the dentist started she explained to me, like I was a six year old, exactly what she was about to do.  I found it comforting and in situations like this talking to me like I am a toddler is weirdly appropriate, mainly because I was milliseconds away from running away and behaving like an emotionally disturb child who just saw Satan.  After I calmed down she started.  I was injected numerous times with anesthetic and my whole upper lip right to the tip of my nose was numb.  She repaired some teeth that was identified and did two filling and an hour later it was all done and I did not feel a thing exactly as she had promised.  Then she said “We need to talk about that one lower tooth”.  Knowing that something wasn’t quite right with it I tried to avoid the conversation completely, much like one would avoid telling your parents about when and how you lost your virginity.

But my avoidance skills and talent for sailing down the river of denial was no match for the dentist and she skillfully forced me to accept what she was saying.  That tooth is busy dying and I needed a root canal.  Apparently a root canal is done over two sessions of an hour each.  They drill into your tooth and then scrape out the nerve.  Not exactly a walk in the park or a fun visit to the petting zoo now is it?  My first reaction was to scream in my head “Motherfucking son of a bitch! Why me?! Why now?!”  After avoidance failed I went to my second defense mechanism and tried to negotiate my way out of the root canal.  But the more I tried the deeper I was drilling myself into that bloody hole of that root canal.  In the end I had to agree and I am getting the root canal next week.

Driving away from the dentist I cried.  Actually I sobbed.  I drooled too because my upper lip was still numb and just hanging there ignoring all instructions given to it from my brain.  That evening when I got home I wrapped myself in a blanket of self pity and resorted to annoy my husband to the point of him almost going crazy.  He could not understand what the big deal was and I explained why it was a big fucking deal until I was satisfied that he understood.  In reality he didn’t understand and still doesn’t.  People on Facebook also tried to better the situation.  Some said it’s painless and that I have nothing to worry about and other people said it hurt worse than child birth.  I don’t know who to believe and I guess I will have to find out for myself.

I am looking forward to this root canal as much as a death row convict is looking forward to the electric chair.  My worst fear is being realized and there is nothing I can do to stop it from happening.  If I don’t have it done the consequences could be far worse and could lead to far more horrifying problems.  So I guess I will take some prescription tranquilizers before my root canal and try and find out if my dentist has some Nitrous Oxide because I will fucking need both!  It just goes to show, no matter how well you look after your pearly whites anyone can get a cavity and some of us assholes will end up getting a root canal.  Fuck!

Till next time.