Tuesday, November 25, 2014

I don’t want to research vaginas.

They say it takes a village to raise a child.  And whoever said that was not kidding.  Parenting is hard.  You find yourself questioning yourself constantly.  Am I doing the right thing? Am I handling this situation correctly?  Am I going to do psychological damage to my kid requiring me to pay a shit load of money for therapy for him when he is sixteen?  Mostly, I ask myself these questions when I am at my wits end.

You know those times when the world almost ended because your little bundle of joy lost his dummy and wants back it now.  When you try to dress your little poop factory when, according to him, clothes are evil and from the devil and all he wants to be is naked.  When he wants to play with a remote and you say no and he cries as if you just killed a puppy.  Being a parent has taught me a lot of things.  Most importantly, it taught me that nothing can prepare you for parenthood and you just have to fake it until you make it.

At this stage I think the first word my son is going to say is the word “no”.  I try not to excessively use the word no but when he is about to do something that will either hurt or kill him I don’t really have a choice.  My son also has a six sense about where all the dangerous objects are in this house.

All cupboards and draws with childproof lock on them fascinate him.  It’s like he is hell bent on proofing that not all childproof locks are actually “childproof”.  He is also fascinated with our cats’ food, the rocks on our indoor water feature, well actually anything that is not nailed down and within reach of him.  He has also now learned that he can throw things which is a good developmental skill for him but not so good for everybody else.

My son will frequently stand in his cot and throw everything out of it, including his pillow, blanket and mattress protector.  Then when there is nothing left to throw he will try to climb out of it.  And one of these days he will get it right and it is a rather far way down to the ground for a 10 month old.  I suspect he throws all his stuffed toys, pillow and other items out of the cot in order to provide him with a soft landing.  I also suspect that he has been designing his cot escape plan for a while now.

Being a parent has also taught me to lie and to be sneaky.  Whenever my son spots something that he wants to play with that he really shouldn’t I will hide it the moment he looks away.  If he then starts moaning because it is gone I tell him that it was never there.  I am also known to sneak past him and my husband when I need to do stuff because the moment my son sees me he would want me to take him and then nothing gets done. You can only do some many things with one hand.

Going to the bathroom has also become a challenge.  I now never stand and pee anymore.  I now have to sit down.  You see my son follows me around the house like a little shadow and when I go to the bathroom he is there.  When I stand and pee he will stand next to the toilet and try and catch my urine with his hand.  Nothing grosses kids out at this age and it is quite disgusting.  So sitting down circumvents this and makes life more hygienic for everybody.  Because playing with pee is not ok.

Cooking dinner and eating has also changed radically since our son came.  When I cook dinner now my son clings to my leg.  He does this all the time.  When I pick him up and put him on the counter the first thing he will gun for is the knives.  I have tried putting him in his feeding chair but he has tried to climb out of it on several occasions.  I did try strapping him in the chair once.  It was a big mistake.  He acted like he was strapped to the electric chair and about to be executed.  So now I try to cook dinner when he goes to bed.  We have also adjusted our eating habits around his sleeping schedule.  We did this because we like our meals hot and not cold which is the case if you get your timing wrong.

Then there is the thing I now call the ankle buster otherwise known as a walking ring.  Do you know how badly your ankles can get bruised when you are hit with one of those things at full speed?  It hurts like a motherfucker and if having purple and blue ankles were a sign of domestic violence many people would have raised eyebrows.  My son has also learned that he can block my way with his ankle buster.  If he doesn’t want me to leave a room he would go stand in the doorway and refuse to move thinking it is a game.  However, when I move him out of the way he would cry because I clearly don’t understand the rules of the game.  I mean really, I don’t even know the game never mind the rules.

There is nothing in our house that has not been licked or sucked on and that includes our cats.  Just the other day I caught my son sucking on one of our cat’s ears.  The poor cat had this defeated look on his face and seemed to be thoroughly traumatized as if this was not the first time this has happened.  Honestly, I could not blame him; I would be too if I was ear molested against my will.  I don’t know why babies and toddlers do this and it is gross.  Imagine an adult going to a store and once you get to the checkout counter you start licking and sucking on the counter while your goods are being rung up; or if you meet someone and then take their phone and then put it in your mouth.  Well this is what our son does all the time and with everything.  He has no preference and anything will get licked or sucked on, even your cat’s ears.

I think the hardest challenge that lies ahead for us as gay parents is when our son realizes that we are not a conventional family.  The day he starts asking questions as to which one of us was pregnant and why he has two daddies.  Why his skin color and hair is different from ours and the day I will have to explain to him how a vagina works.  Not that I really know myself but I suspect Google will be helpful at that time.  These questions will probably make us long for the days when our son was sucking on and licking household objects, throwing things out of his cot, trying to catch our pee and clinging to our legs.  I do try and enjoy every moment of my son being at this age, albeit that it is sometimes hard.  My son gives the best hug, has a contagious laugh and heart melting smile.  This is what makes it all worth it even if I one day will have to research vaginas.

Till next time.


Wednesday, November 19, 2014

When Pussy Attacks!

My husband and I share our house with four pussies. They are furry, sometimes cuddly but beneath their angelic and sweat demeanour there lurks a darkside. A darkside so malevolent and vicious it’s best strangers approach our kitties with caution or face the dreadful consequence – being mauled! You see our furred critters are emotional and dangerous little souls and every now and again their tempers and tantrums take me by surprise and I left me wondering, why do I share my house killers.

Killer Pussy will eat anything she can lay her little paws on. If it is not guarded, covered or sealed she will seek it out and devour it whether it’s broccoli or potatoes – she has no preference. Her absolute favourite snack is a vitamin and catnip enrich cat treat which she gets every afternoon. So when the treats were finished, a couple of weeks ago, and the shops ran out of stock our little pussy was not amused! Then the tantrums started.

We were ignored, she would sit in the corner of the bedroom sulking, scratch us when we picked her up and when her passive aggression failed to yield the desired result she went to Plan B – breaking stuff. Two broken plates, a torn curtain and a punctured pool lillo later, the shops eventually acquired her favourite treat just in the nick of time, as I suspect Plan C would have involved murder by suffocation – I wonder who she would have killed first, my husband or I? So now she’s back to her normal routine which are the plotting and scheming about how to break into our pantry (the food room as she calls it), furthering her nuclear ambitions and setting her plan for world domination into motion.  She really is one ambitious and very dangerous cat!

Fur Monster is one of our eldest cats and she doesn’t like strangers and despises children (little humans). The fact that she was barren for so long and struggled to have kittens of her own may have something to do with her hatred of offspring. Whenever we receive visitors we always have to warn the guests of her violent streak. Many children have been emotionally and physically scarred by her and many adults have too, with my late mom included.

A few years ago Fur Monster’s sister had kittens and my mom and her housekeeper wanted to see the litter/kindle. They forgot about the saying “curiosity killed the cat” and they went into my garden cottage while I was out. They didn’t make it past the kitchen. Fur Monster and her sister Sly Monster cornered them and held them hostage, literally, in my kitchen for well over an hour. Eventually I received a hysterical call from my mom “Your cats have attacked me! I’m in your kitchen! Can’t. Get. Out!!! Oh God have mercy!!! H E L P MEEE!!!” and in the background I could hear the housekeeper praying "Jesus, Mary & Joseph" and the cats hissing and growling. Careful hostage negations followed and both my mom and the housekeeper were released bruised, bleeding, traumatized and forever fearful.

Cute Monster is the middle child and the fruit of Fur Monster’s loins. She’s not the sharpest tool in the shed and the only thing she does well is eat, fart and look cute. She has never mastered the art of tree climbing and is still trying to learn how to play but without any notable success or improvement. The one skill she recently acquired is the much envied skill of paw-to-paw combat.

Seeing as she doesn’t know how to play nice she settled for second best – fighting. She picks fights with her mother, her aunt and her adopted sister and she usually loses. Did I mention she isn't that bright? Every other day all hell breaks loose in our house and it’s a choir of hissing, growling, screaming with fur and pot plants flying everywhere. Breaking up a pussy orgy of violence is near impossible and after two attempts and some loss of blood later, hubby and I decided to leave them to sort out their own problems. If it involves violence so be it!

Apart from eating and shitting the garden the only thing our pussies enjoy doing together as a family is kill things. This is where our youngest comes in Lover Pussy.  And as his name suggests he is a gentle soul and is more a lover than a fighter.  However, he also loves hunting and he's fiercely good at it.  He also usually leads the family hunt.  Like a ruthless pride of lions (which I swear they think they are) they stalk their prey on the African plains that is our garden. Many a bird-, lizard-, moth-, butterfly and lady bird family has lost loved ones at the claws of our feline predators. So when a flock of weaver birds decided our leopard tree was the perfect spot for them to raise their families, last summer, their fate was sealed and the bodies piled up!

Last Saturday we experienced the worst massacre since bloodshed Wednesday of 8 May 2007. It started at roughly noon. I heard a commotion in our back garden and didn’t pay it much attention until the commotion made its way to under the dining room table. Killer Pussy caught a juvenile weaver bird and was busy interrogating and torturing the poor thing North Korea Style, while the other four Monsters were watching. I tried to save the non combatant but Killer Pussy would have none of that and ran outside. We intercepted at the pool and I tried to pry the screaming bird from her fangs but she refused to loosen her grip and punctured two of my fingers.  I considered getting a tetanus shot but then realized the hospital would asked too many uncomfortable questions so I took my chances.

Then I realized the non combatant is doomed anyway and feeling like a horrible human being I let the murder continue. In the lounge I was close to tears as I heard the bird's screams become fainter as the minutes passed. The bird’s parents, family and neighbors all tried to save its life, but one-by-one they too were interrogated, tortured and killed. At sunset the screaming stopped and our backyard was a scene of utter horror and devastation. There are now only four weaver birds and eight eerily empty nests left. Every day and every night our monsters patrol the leopard tree and soon the surviving weaver birds will be no more.

Sharing our home with temper tantrum killers, admittedly is not always fun. But even though I sometimes pitch up for work with arms, legs and hands looking like I shoved them into the blender, I love my little monsters dearly and can’t imagine my life without them. Our backyard may be littered with the skeletal remains of countless avian victims, the bird population on the plains of Africa may be living in fear but my pussies are a delight to have and one day, may just one day, the birds will stop screaming.

You can like Killer Pussy's Facebook Fan Page by clicking HERE.

Till next time.

Saturday, November 15, 2014

An Unconventional Lesson in Anal Sex

Oddly, there seem to be a couple of evangelist pastors out there who allegedly are experts on gay male sex. I kid you not.  Apparently they seem to know a great deal more about gay sex than what the average homosexual does.  Especially surprising to me is the resilience the male sphincter muscle (aka your asshole muscle) has according to them.  Apparently you can shove a whole baseball bat up there, your iPhone and a gerbil.  No wonder so many people get rectal exams in prison:  You never know what they could manage to smuggle in there; it could be anything from a nail file to a ladder.   Reflecting on some past comments of a certain Pastor Patrick Wooden I could not help but wonder, have we as gay guys even begin to explore the wonderland that are our rectums.
Pastor Wooden seems very preoccupied with the gay male anus, apparently as all gay men are.  After all it is in that general area where we like to keep things neat, tidy and in some cases bleached and pierced.  But, in Wooden’s defense, the anus is a wonderful organ.  It is resilient and can stretch when needed.  And the best of all you don’t even have to be gay to have experience this phenomena.  Straight people can experience this too.  I'm speaking to all those straight guys out there who like it when their girlfriends stick her fingers up your ass, and you know who you are!  And I know that you are worried and wondering and the answer is NO.  That does not make you gay! But it's not just through sex and ass play when you can experience this.  Normal bodily functions also helps you experience the elasticity of your sphincter muscle more frequently than what you may think. 

If you have ever been constipated and finally had that bowel movement that sets you free, you probably have experienced that glorious sensation.  You know that feeling when you push and push and you feel it is just too big to come out.  Finally, as the monster turd crowns and you feel like your asshole just is not big enough and about to exploded, it makes it’s way through and takes its final plunge leaving you relieved, proud and semi euphoric.  Well, gay anal sex is not completely unlike that.  Apart from the turd being a cock and instead of it coming out it goes in.

Like any good homosexual I am also partial to some ass play.  I, like some gay tops, can also be “ass curious” at times (If you don't know what that means Google will explain it to you).  But I can honestly say I have never shoved a baseball bat up my rectum nor have I attempted to insert any live stock or rodents.  Mostly, because I do not understand the logistics of it and I don’t condone animal abuse.  I mean honestly, how exactly do you force a little gerbil into a dark crevice if it doesn’t want to go in.  Doesn’t it have teeth and sharp little nails?  Or is that part of the fun?  I’m sure PETA would have a lot to say on this issue and clearly Pastor Wooden has some experience in this area.  But to get back to my rectum…
Inserting foreign objects into our rectums is something that gay men do.  As per definition a foreign object is anything “originating elsewhere” or simply put “outside of your body”.  Look it up bitches.  So it can be pretty much anything including someone else’s penis, which is predominantly what gay guys prefer.  Some gay guys are over achievers and sometimes like to have more than one penis up their man hole.  It's true, I have seen it in gay porn.  It doesn't look comfortable at all.   In my case we have a drawer in our bedroom with preferred foreign objects that we like inserting up our rectums.  Now don't pretend to be all prissy, you know you have a secret sex drawer too. 

Our drawer contains nothing particularly out of the ordinary for a professional homosexual on the go.  It has a dildo, vibrator, and a butt plug, to mention but a few.  My father-in-law, a few years ago, accidentally opened this drawer thus destroying any illusions he may have had of his son and I being celibate and not engaging in anal sex.  He emerged from the ordeal pale as a ghost and dramatically quiet for the rest of that day.  He’s probably still traumatized and digesting what he had seen.  I believe that mental pictures that were inadvertently burned into his mind still haunts him today.

Using foreign objects that you can buy from any sex shop or online to enhance your sexual experience is one thing, but what if you don’t have the time or money.  Well, like any resourceful homosexual will tell you, there are a plethora of everyday household objects that you can safely use.  Let’s turn our attention to your kitchen.  Fruit and vegetables like bananas, cucumbers and carrots are perfectly safe.  You won't get any nutritional value from them but you will have fun and in some cases vegetables can be orgasmic. Just don't use them in a salad later.  That would just be gross.  Butternuts on the other hand are not safe nor are any frozen items, fish or cutlery.  The broom closet is pretty self explanatory as most closeted right wing evangelist pastors will tell who have lost their anal virginity there.
When it comes to the bathroom and the bedroom wardrobe it could get a little dicey.  Firstly, it is not good hygiene to insert anything into your ass that you will not be able to get out again later, having to wash your face with or have to put in your mouth.  Secondly, electrical items and anything bigger than your hand and arm could pose some serious medical repercussions and should always be used with extreme caution.  I would advice you to first consult with your physician but I can see how that conversation could be awkward.  It is also extremely important to remember that KY conducts electricity extremely well, as I can attest to from personal experience, and electrocution does not enhance an orgasm, it does quite the opposite and it's not fun nor is it sexy!

My iPhone is the one item I have never considered inserting into my rectum and people who do clearly have no respect for their phones, themselves or other people and should be ashamed of themselves!  Honestly, what if you get a very important call, a Facebook message or a tweet?  Are you going to phone, message and tweet that person back apologizing by saying “I was busy stimulating my prostate, and thank you for calling me at exactly the right time – you really hit the spot for me!  It was the best orgasm EVER! Thank you for making me cum!”  I did not think so people.  

Contemplating the good Pastor’s recent comments and especially the part about gay men’s rectums being mutilated resulting in some gay men having to walk around with butt plugs and diapers, I consulted with a medical professional.  My pharmacist told me it was bullshit!  Sure with regular abuse and inserting very large objects the sphincter muscle can get damaged and deformed over time, but for that to happen the person must have been doing some seriously fucked up shit to themselves and their assholes.  And surely this is not the norm.  To conclude, any person who walks around with a butt plug up his ass for a whole day has some serious skills and I am sure that would be dreadfully uncomfortable.  As for wearing diapers, I don't think I am into that baby fetish because who likes to shit in their pants and sit on it for hours anyway?
Whether Pastor Patrick Wooden spoke from personal experience or secret desire, I guess we will never really know.  His fascination with gay anal sex and brevity of knowledge on the subject does however slightly impress.  But, I am sad to say Pastor Patrick Wooden, there are some things gay men will not put up our asses and your dick ranks number one on that list.  Even though I do admire the fact that you are so very adventurous with your own anus, I will never be as able a power bottom as you are.  Your accomplishments are awe inspiring!

Till next time.

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

Heterosexuality - A Queer Perspective

In all my gay years I have often been asked many questions by well meaning heterosexuals, questions that often times starts with the phrase “Can I ask you something personal?” The questions that follow usually would be about my queerness, our gay old lifestyle and homosexual intercourse. And I have always answered these questions, frankly and in great descriptive detail, sometimes to the regret of the questioner. So now I thought it appropriate to flip the tables and ask a few questions of my own about heterosexuality that I have been burning to ask for years. So here goes…

I have always wondered whether straight folk where "born that way" or whether heterosexuality is actually a lifestyle choice. You see I have been pondering on this for a while. Why on earth would any person choose to be straight? Straight folk never have any fun. They never have any colorful parades.  They only dress up once a year for Halloween. Very few have any fashion sense and then there’s the small little horror of accidentally falling pregnant – something that never happens with homosexuals!  Or at least the ones I know off.
Straight folk’s lives are also predictable and scripted. They are expected to achieve certain milestones at certain times in their lives – get married, get pregnant, raise the kids, get them out of the house at 21 and nag the next generation to procreate in order to reach the final milestone of becoming grandparents. Gay folk don’t have these pressures. We can meander through a full life without being expected to do any of these things - we only do some of it because we choose to.

And then there is the sex. I don’t understand heterosexual intercourse and I find it puzzling. Firstly, the equipment that’s to be utilized for pleasure differs vastly in mechanics, design and general function. At least with homosexuals we have an innate understanding and intimate knowledge of our sex partner’s erogenous areas, the only thing that differs is the model size, religious cosmetic alterations and grooming.

Queers don’t necessarily have to learn how to swim in the sea of pleasure, we can jump right in, have a splash and both can make it to shore satisfied. With heterosexuals I suspect this may be slightly different and some experience is required before they get their sea legs. This being said, heterosexual sex must be terrifying and possibly dangerous!
Imagining the experience of heterosexual intercourse could easily make a standard homosexual lightheaded. Having seen the female anatomy in all its glory a few times in my life (for which there will follow no explanation or elaboration) I just can’t figure out why straight guys enjoy it.

The vigina must be the strangest organ in all creation. It’s a curious little fleshy miniature canyon with understated accessories sometimes hidden by a forest and other times just plain bare. Then there are the breasts for which I fail to see the purpose off during intercourse. It seems like they would just get in the way and could potentially be hazardous. Depending whether they are coconuts or tennis balls they do have the potential to cause a concussion or lead to suffocation.

The actual act of heterosexual intercourse I think we can all figure out on our own. The train goes into the tunnel and then comes again, as Freud would say. But, I have heard some straight guys boast, when trying to make straight sex seem better than gay sex, by stating that they have a choice of three orifices to choose from, whereas gay men only have two. To which I ussually candidly resond "Well honestly, I do really just care about the two!" Besides I always also tend to take matters that one step further by asking the said heterosexual guy’s girlfriend whether she has taken it up the ass before and if not I am always willing to give her some pointers.

But then having sex with straight men could be daunting too. For woman having to deal with a penis and testicles could pose their own challenges as not all men are created equal and not all men tend to their gardens, if you know what I mean. Being faced with an erect penis and not knowing how it works could easily lead to confusion.  And when it’s surrounded with a moist and uncultivated tropical rain forest, its appeal factor can easily drop to zero. Then there are the differences: some wieners are turtle necks and others are kosher, and some women prefer the one over the other as do we queer folk.
The last thing I have wondered about is, can heterosexuals see and appreciate the beauty of people of their own gender. If a straight guy walks down the street and see another guy who’s attractive, well build and groomed can he say to his mates or girlfriend “Wow” without having his own masculinity threatened or questioned? Or can a woman admire another without thinking she has lesbian tendencies. We queer folk can do that all the time, gay guys appreciate good looking women, lesbians can acknowledge a fine male speciment, but that does not mean we want to sleep with them. Can straight folk do the same?

Yes, heterosexuality is a queer phenomenon that’s highly prevalent, very public and truly fascinating. I don’t think I will ever understand it and the fact that they flaunt their sexual preference and lifestyle choice in our streets, offices, shopping malls and on television sure isn’t making it easy to ignore them. At least they don’t have a flag yet, but I’m sure that too will happen someday. Even though I don’t understand it, sometimes don’t approve of it, I accept my heterosexual friends, family and colleagues just the way they are – they are people too and the heart doesn’t choose who you love.

Till next time.

Margaret Cho: Beautiful

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

This Will Forever Ruin Porn for You

The other day I had a rather unpleasant run in with a certain South African.  He is trying to launch himself into a porn career in the USA.  The whole experience left me quite perturbed about this guy’s life choices, the fantasy world he finds himself trapped in and his shortsightedness about his own future.  In all honesty, I felt sad for him.  But hey, it is not my business if someone I don’t even know well is fucking up their own life, right?  But this left me to wonder, do we ever think about the people who are in the porn movies we watch?  Who they really are and how they ended up doing porn?  And if we did would we still watch it?

I have nothing against porn.  I have watched my fair share in my life and if there are people who choose to make a living by having sex in front of the cameras, amongst other things, all the power to them.  However, I do have to admit that I have sometimes watched these movies and wondered what went wrong in these people’s lives that caused them to end up where they are.  Did they decide to go down this path out of necessity or by choice?

Out of all the career choices out there I am not sure how someone wakes up one morning and decide that porn is the career choice for them.  I mean the requirements for the job are rather superficial.  You do not require any talent, you don’t have to be smart or educated, you don’t require any acting skills at all, and as was evident with the South African, you don’t even have to be particularly attractive.  However, what you do require is a good to fair body, the ability to do things with your orifices that could potentially damage them forever and if you don’t fit those criteria all you need is a very large penis.

Also, quite disturbing is the fact that the majority of porn stars out there are also prostitutes on the side.  Probably to help them make ends meet during those times when they aren’t working or getting work.  With the new revival of bareback porn amidst the real threat of contracting HIV (even with PrEP that is supposed to prevent infection) these men are also risking their lives every time they shoot a scene.  Not to mention what happens when they rent themselves out to clients who may be less than honest about their medical statuses.  It is worrisome that these men would risk their lives all for the sake of money.

The word “porn star” is also a very strange concept to me because are these guys really “stars”?  Are they actually famous?  When one thinks about it they really aren’t.  Most of these guys’ shelf life is normally just a couple of years, if that long.  Their time being cut short either by them getting ill, when long term drug abuse takes its toll on their bodies and/or their lives or when the porn houses find younger better looking guys to replace them.  And then what happens to them?

This is where the real problem comes in.  Sure they have made their money while doing porn but I doubt that any of them have the foresight of investing it.  What happens when they run out of money and they actually have to find a real job?  Sure using an alias while doing porn seemingly will protect their true identities.  But with the internet these days just merely using an alias would not hide their debauched backgrounds from their future employers.  With just a couple of keystrokes any future employer will easily unearth their previous illustrious careers and unfortunately this will make most of these guys unemployable.  They would be a huge reputational risk to any company. Where will they end up then?  Have you ever heard of any porn star making it to the Fortune 500 list?

As for my run in with the South African it was pure coincidence.  I used to be Facebook friends with him but he was a casualty of one of my many Facebook friends’ cleanup efforts.  I stumbled upon his profile by chance and saw that he was travelling through the USA and I thought “Ah, good for him.  Wonder what he is doing with his life now”.  Then I discovered that he was working for one of the well-known porn houses over there.  On first inspection of his profile it appears as if he wanted to create the impression that he was doing modelling, however it soon became evident that he was doing anything but modelling in the true sense of the word.  I was disappointed.

I thought he had so much more potential than this and my first thought was what his parents would say.  No parent in their right mind would want their child to do pornography or be proud of that fact.  Being a parent myself I can honestly say I would be mortified.  I did comment to that effect on his profile and tried to do so in the most respectful way I possibly could.

However, he did not respond well to my concern, rather opting to attack me and my child:  Saying that we would use our son as a “sex slave” and that I was a child molester because he could “see it in my eyes”.  I didn’t take this boorish attack personally.  I mean how could I?  It’s not like he was speaking from any moral high ground whatsoever.  He also wasn’t the type of person whom has proved to have sound judgment or to be a good judge of character.  His own behavior and life choices tarnished his credibility in all these areas so I just decided to let it go.

I don’t pretend to understand people or why they sometimes make life choices that, deep down, they know they will regret someday.  People who go into porn probably have their own reasons for doing so and I hope they do so comprehending the consequences thereof.  I hope they know that their porn career will follow them around for the rest of their lives and will encroach in all other aspects of their lives as well, possibly at the most inconvenient of times.  Possibly at the times they can least afford it.  It will impact on their future relationships, their family and careers or hopes thereof.  When I watch porn now, I see the failed dreams and the failed aspirations of people who made certain life choices that will haunt them for days to come. 

Till next time

Thursday, October 23, 2014

Ebola and the Zombie Apocalypse

If you haven’t heard about the Ebola outbreak you must be living under a rock.  Apparently it is the largest outbreak in like forever.  Thousands of people have died and if you catch it you have a ninety present chance of bleeding to death from all your orifices.  Being OCD and a germaphobe these odds scare the shit out of me.  Firstly, because I don’t want to be infected with some strange ass disease; and secondly, bleeding from all my orifices seems rather messy and unhygienic.

More concerning besides all these terrible things that Ebola is causing is the bogus reports that people who have died from Ebola are coming back as Zombies.  You may be thinking “What. The. Fuck.”  And you are justified in thinking that, but let’s imagine for a moment that it is true.

Remember that movie years ago called “Outbreak”.  You know the one with the cute monkey who ended up being the cause of all the drama.  Well, Ebola is not that different and neither is this outbreak.  I mean the image they used in that movie was oddly similar to the Ebola virus when viewed under a microscope.  Truth be told, even scientist are scared of this virus.  When handling it in their secured labs they adopt the precautions of space walkers.  That should already be telling you something.  And now this virus is free to roam around West Africa and board airplanes to your country.

Nobody looks sexy in a biohazard suit but I am sure the designers from Project Runway could easily transform these suits into fashion forward Haute Couture.  It could be called “The Apocalypse” challenge.  Which brings me to the actual focus of my blog post – zombies.  Those who know me well will tell you that I am a firm believer that the zombie apocalypse is imminent and real.  And when it does happen having watched The Walking Dead and the show Doomsday Preppers could save your life.

So what are the chances of the Ebola outbreak prompting the Zombie Apocalypse?  Well, to be honest nobody knows.  However, that does not exclude the possibility though.  Just like we cannot exclude the possibility of aliens and that cats may one day rule the world.  It may sound farfetched but anything is possible really.  Just look at the Kardashians and Honey Boo Boo.  Neither of these two families have any talent nor are they very smart yet they became famous.  Frankly speaking, I prefer zombies to the likes of them any day.

In West Africa the dead have been buried in mass graves and even when a person is sick and dying on the street people refuse to help them.  They are too scared of getting infected.  Being buried in a huge hole with strangers and being refused help in a public area understandably could cause people to bear a grudge.  So if these victims of Ebola had to rise from the dead as zombies naturally they would be pissed off.  Firstly, because they bled to death from all their orifices and that shit is just fucked up and secondly, because they were not treated with dignity and now they are hungry for brains and out for revenge!

I can see how Ebola Zombies would freak people out more than normal zombies.  Not only would they want to eat you but they could also still infect you will Ebola.  So in that situation you will end up having three choices.  Well, actually four but shitting yourself could in all probability happen concurrently with the other three.  Firstly, you can decide to allow yourself get eaten alive.  Secondly, you can decide that dying of Ebola in the street with strangers watching is not that bad. Or thirdly, you can decide to fight and still run the risk of being infected with Ebola.  I am not sure which option I would choose.

In all seriousness, the Ebola outbreak is no joke.  As of yet it does not seem if the outbreak is under control and a number of cases have already been identified outside of West Africa.  I was recently asked by a friend in Canada whether they should be worried and my answer was yes.  As long as there are an outbreak and people are free to travel then we are all at risk.  If you have health care practitioners helping out in the affected areas then you are at risk.  I don’t think the Ebola outbreak should cause mass hysteria but people should be cautious.  If you want to get hysterical then rather wait for the zombies.

Till next time.

Saturday, October 18, 2014


Madonna like you have never seen her before.  Raw, uncut, unapologetic.
To watch more of the Madonnalogues subscribe to the talented Nadya Ginsburg's YouTube channel by clicking HERE!

Saturday, October 11, 2014

Bears. The gay documentary.

We all love a good nature documentary, right?  If you ever thought or wanted to see what gay bears live like then this documentary is for you.  These bears do all the things you expect them to do in the wild - eating, giving blow jobs and throwing shade. Check it out.

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

What happens if a Go-Go Boy grows old

We all dread growing old (turning 30). But what happens when a Go-Go Boy enters his twilight years.

Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Gay Men Try To Explain Tampons

Ok, so we have no clue about feminine hygiene. But in our defense we don't have a vagina.

Sunday, September 28, 2014

I Look Fuckin Cool

Adore Delano performing I Look Fuckin Cool (feat. Alaska Thunderfuck)
& guest appearance by Nina Flowers

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

The Gay Zombie Apocalypse

Be warned! The Gay Zombie Apocalypse is coming!

Monday, September 22, 2014

Sex Littering

There are a few things in life that make my blood boil.  Well, actually that is a lie.  There are a great many things in life that causes the veins in my head to throb.  Mostly I can overcome such emotional inconveniences by counting to ten or proactively popping a pill for it.  However, every now and again I am caught off guard causing me to briefly behave like an emotionally disturbed child accompanied by a nervous tick in my left eye.  This past weekend was one such an occasion as I was confronted with one of my top ten pet peeves – sex littering.

Now before you ask me what sex littering is let me explain.  Sex littering is when someone leaves behind certain items that they used during coitus in a public space for everyone to see or, when a certain deranged bitch throws her husband’s porn DVD’s over your wall into your back yard.  I am aware that the latter is unusual and doesn’t happen to most people.  However, it has happened to me. Twice!  You see our neighbor’s, which I have always referred to here as the “undesirables”, has an extremely tumultuous relationship.  Sometimes their emotional turbulence interferes with my inner peace and I have called the police on them before.  But this new turn of events had me baffled.

Sometime during the beginning of the year I was strolling through our back garden when I saw something shining as the light caught it in the foliage.  Upon closer inspection it looked like a CD or DVD that was lying face down.  Being naturally curious by nature I Indiana Jonesed my way through the foliage and picked it.  When I eventually got it and turned it around I was both shocked and very confused.  After all I am a very innocent, sensitive and impressionable person.  I was mortified to discover that it was a hardcore straight porn DVD.  “What. The. Fuck.” came out of my mouth before I could help it.  Why was it in our back garden and who left it there?

Nobody expects to find porn in their garden, especially when it is not yours.  Don’t get me wrong I have nothing against porn as such.  What I do have a problem with is when someone throws it into my garden.  It is not only inconsiderate but irresponsible.  What if our bunnies tried to eat it or if our garden services found it. I mean really.  If you want to toss porn into our garden at least make sure it is gay porn.  Generally homosexuals do not get off on straight porn and I thought people knew that.  Also, our garden services are very judgmental. 

It wasn’t long before my exceptional sleuthing skills helped me track down the sex litterer.  It was our neighbor (the undesirables).  I once overheard her and her husband fighting about porn.  From what I could tell she didn’t like it being in their house and she doesn’t like him watching it hence, her throwing it over our wall.  I honestly think that woman is a few potatoes short of a potato salad.  The only rational reason I could think of for her to choose our yard as her personal porn dumping site is because we are their only neighbor who doesn’t have older kids.  Still, that is no excuse for exposing us unwillingly to their straight pornography or littering our garden with her husband’s debauchery and her condemnation of it.

I am a firm believer of the theory high walls make for good neighbors.  I don’t really care what goes on in most of my neighbor’s lives.  I don’t snoop and respect other people’s privacy.  But when our neighbor’s shit start affecting my life and intrudes into my little bubble of peace and tranquility I tend to get annoyed.  Thinking that the sex littering was a once off thing I decided to let it go for the sake of not embarrassing anybody.  Also, I didn’t want to talk to the undesirables especially not about their twisted taste in porn.  Unfortunately nothing in my life is ever uncomplicated.

So this weekend when I went to check on our bunnies’ food situation I again stumbled upon sex litter.  Again it was straight porn and again it was the undesirables.  My blood pressure went up and this time I was furious.  “What the fuck is wrong with these people.  Why can’t she just throw this shit in their dustbin or dispose of it in any other way?  Why us?  Why our garden?”  I remember thinking.  Also, do we look like the kind of people who would want to watch a porn movie titled “Sex starved fuck sluts”?  After I caught my breath and the twitch in my left eye subsided I thought of the best way forward.  I decided to leave them a harshly worded letter:

Dear Neighbors,
Your sex life is none of our business but you have made it our business when you first threw the porn DVD “Backdoor adventures of Butthead and Beaver” into our yard on 22 February this year.  Now, again you decided to infringe on my right to privacy and choice to live in a straight porn free environment by having thrown the porn DVD “Sex starved fuck sluts” into our yard.  If you have some sexual issues, including but not limited to porn, please don’t make your fucking problem ours.  Go see a fucking therapist.  Also, our yard is not your personal sex litter dump.  Use your dustbin.  That is what it is there for!
Lastly, by throwing your porn into our yard is not the solution to your problems.  The internet is full of free porn that could meet with your sexual desires and fetishes.  I know you have internet at home because I can see your WiFi on my phone.  Use it.  Delete it.  Just for the love of god leave us out of it.
Your GAY neighbors.

I am still checking our mailbox for their apology letter.  So much for being “good Christians” who go to church every Sunday.  The worst part of their sex littering is the fact that we are then forced to throw their porn into our dustbin.  What will our housekeeper think if she accidentally sees the porn DVD.  It has been enough of a culture shock for her to work for two homosexuals with a child.  I think discovering a porn DVD in between broken egg shells and potato peels might just give her a heart attack.

I thought moving to suburbia would be peaceful, quiet and private.  I never expected people to throw straight porn DVD’s into our yard and that our neighbors would be perverts with a preference for entering through the back door and being into sluts.  Also, I never expected that I would need to have awkward conversations with my neighbors about their sex lives, fetishes or taste in porn.  I guess it is what it is.  At least they are not terrorists and after my note hopefully they would be too ashamed to even look at me.  And ashamed they should be.

Till next time.

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Shit they don’t tell you before you become a parent

There is some stuff I wish people would have told me before we became parents.  Not that “it will change your life” nonsense because, you would have to be mentally challenged if you don’t realize that.  Also, then it might not be the best idea for you to have children and perhaps you should first start with a small pet or a house plant.  The things I wish I were told before becoming a father is not unlike that T&C’s and/or fine prints you find in contracts.  Or the leaflets you find accompanying your medication.  We all know that we really should read them but, very few of us do.  So in case any of my readers are planning on or are becoming parents here are a few things you need to know and/or consider.

Children are a lot of work and you will never have any free time again.  Like. In. Forever.  Children require your full attention and when you don’t give it to them you can expect the apocalypse to happen.  Our son’s favorite thing to do right before he throws a tantrum is to pull his dummy out of his mouth hurling it at me or anywhere that will have the most dramatic effect, followed by a quivering lip promptly followed by inhaling a deep breath right before crying and/or screaming.  This normally happens if I take too long to tend to his needs or don’t pick him up even though my hands are full.  But giving them your full attention is not just about attending to their wants and needs, it is also crucial in keeping these little beasties alive.

Whenever your house gets really quiet you should know baby/toddler is up to something.  I have found that if I turn my back on our son, even for one second, or leave the room to go fetch something that it is enough time for him to not only be a danger to himself but also to everyone else.  He has almost electrocuted himself, have a dining room chair fall on him, the cat’s have been molested by him and he is known to love playing with his own vomit or pulling things off coffee tables, chairs and couches.  Also, playpens (or like I call them “baby jails”) only work up to a point; the point being when your child learns that the playpen is not nailed to the floor and that it can be picked up and manually moved.  Never underestimate the resourcefulness of a baby/toddler.  They are master escape artists and strategic thinkers.  They are smarter than you think and they know our weaknesses.

Children will also ruin your sex life.  When you have a child, gone are those days of spontaneity and now you will have to plan shit.  Normally the best time to have sex would be when baby is sleeping or napping.  So you have to work around their routine.  However, babies have a sixth sense for things like this and don’t be surprised when baby cries in the nursery while you are midsession in the bedroom.  Then you have to drop everything, compose yourself only to find out the big issue interrupting your coitus is his dummy being five inches away from your son and he is too lazy to reach for it himself.  Then the mood is spoiled and sexy time is over.  Also, when you come home from work and after having fed, bathed and put baby to bed you don’t feel sexy.  Mostly you are just too tired.  But sex is not the only thing your precious bundle of joy will ruin, there is more.

Your house will never be clean ever again.  Trying to clean up after your child is a futile exercise.  And if you suffer from OCD, like I do, it is the cruelest and also the best exposure therapy there is.  Our house used to be super clean but now it no longer is.  Just this past weekend we had our son’s baptism at home.  The house was semi clean; you know the kind of clean so that people don’t judge you but the kind of dirty that make you feel ashamed of yourself.  But after the baptism our house was the kind of dirty that freaked my OCD the fuck out.  However, I did nothing about it.  I knew our housekeeper was coming on Monday and I stopped caring if she judged me or what she thought of us four months ago already.  Children can be freeing like that.

Your child will also ,at some point, embarrass you in public.  Just a few weeks ago I was filling a script at our pharmacy.  Just as I reached the counter to pay and opened my wallet our son decided to vomit all over it and the counter.  Having been used to vomit by then I thought nothing of it,  so I grabbed a couple of tissues and wiped off my wallet and very moist credit card.  With the card having had small pieces of chicken and carrot on it with saliva.  I handed the card to the cashier and cleaned the counter.  I did not look up or made eye contact at all, rather opting to pretend that this was perfectly normal.  Obviously, the cashier took my card and swiped it with great trepidation and disgust.  But hey, what else was I suppose to do?  Was I expected to do an “I am sorry dance” and say three Hail Mary’s?

Babies and toddlers are nudists at heart and they have no shame.  Our son hates clothes and is at his happiest when he is naked.  This is why he loves bath time and being lathered up with lotion after but, as soon as he realizes that all that was actually building up to getting dressed then the production of “Clothes are from the Devil” starts.  He will cry and try and make it impossible to dress him.  Putting clothes on our son is like trying to dress an angry octopus with one hand while being blind folded.  I am also sure it burns a couple of thousand kilojoules which I don’t mind, I do want to lose some more weight.  And this leads me to my next point – distracting your child with illusions and trickery.

I have found the best way to get my son dressed or to change his nappy without fighting with an octopus is by distracting him with a toy.  It occupies him and lets me do what needs to get done.  Also, sometimes he would want to put things in his mouth off the floor that is just nasty and that is where magic comes in.  The item will then mysteriously disappear and as if by magic be replaced with something more appropriate.  All our remote controls also, according to him, magically disappear when he wants to play with them.  But in reality they are merely hidden behind the scatter cushions on our couch.  Fortunately, the bargaining and negotiating skills that we will soon need are still some time away.

Being a parent is hard work and people don’t tell you the exact details of this until after you have a child.  Perhaps this is why we as a species are not extinct yet.  As a parent you need some exceptional skills to be successful, you have to be a magician, a liar, hostage negotiator, psychic and have nerves of steel.  You must also have eyes in the back of your head and supersonic hearing.  That being said, I have learned so much about myself since becoming a father.  I have also learned that the one thing that is true about parenthood is that it is the most rewarding experience I have ever had in my life.  I will not exchange this experience for anything.

Till next time.

Thursday, September 11, 2014

Back to Reality

Yes, I know I have been rather lazy blogging the last couple of months.  But in my defense I had shit going on.  Also, I know I really should not be using this kind of language because I now have a child but hey, he is going to hear these words eventually.  After four months of paternity leave I went back to work on Monday.  It feels strange being back in the office.  I mean I have time to myself, apart from work, and it feels like a mini holiday.  I know how it sounds but if you have kids you’d understand.

Over the weekend I was very down and moody.  The prospect of going back to work seemed like a nightmare.  I did not know how I would cope not being with my son 24/7.  I knew I would miss him terribly and I am.  Also, being the neurotic kind of person I am I also had irrational debates with myself.  You know the kind that people in psychiatric hospitals have when their meds aren’t working.  At least I didn’t hear voices or thought that I was Jesus.  I am not that crazy.  Yet.

Over the weekend my mind played around with a lot of "what ifs".  What if my son did not cope with going to granny’s during the week.  What if granny could not cope looking after my son.  What if my son loves granny more than he loves me.  What if when I am at work and something happens to my son.  There are a lot more what ifs that flooded my brain but I don’t want to bore you with my neuroticism and illogical parental reservations.  In the end of the day Monday came and went and nobody died and our little smiling and giggling tornado was a happy and content baby.

I still have issues with missing my son during the day at work and granny is not good at sending me proof of life pictures.  I want at least two picture of him a day and according to my husband this makes me an overbearing parent with unrealistic expectations.  After all granny raised him and his brother and was a day mother for many years and knows what she is doing.  But still, I am an overbearing parent and I am not ashamed of it.  Also I suspect it will only get worse with time.  But this is not the only issue hubby has.

Apparently I am also a helicopter dad who is someone that hovers.  Personally I would not call it “hovering”.  I am merely discreetly supervising and, at times, provideds hubby with some constructive advice.  Just the other day hubby was busy dressing our son and he was doing something wrong and when I “advised” him he chased me out of the nursery.  I wasn’t really offended by it but thought to myself if he wants to learn certain things the hard way then so be it.  And just so you know, in that instance our son cried through the whole ordeal.  Had hubby listened to me that would not have happened.  Just saying…

Since our son became mobile and is crawling everywhere and pulling himself up against anything he can, nothing in the house is safe anymore.  When our cats see Michael coming their way they get all nervous and our oldest cat has now developed a nervous twitch.  Our son used to be fine in his playpen but sometime about two weeks ago he realized that it was nothing more than a baby jail and he went all prison break on my ass.  The problem now is that he is so fast if you turn your back on him for a few seconds he is gone.  And most time I would find him near a power socket about to electrocute himself or about to throw over one of our three air purifiers.

Our house has now been baby proofed as well.  Luckily we had house bunnies and learned about bunny proofing the house a while ago.  Baby proofing is not all that different from bunny proofing but at least Michael is not chewing on our couch or electrical cords.  Also, our son knows when he has done something wrong.  Just the other day he threw over one of the air purifiers and started crying because he thought I would be mad at him.  The same thing happened when he threw over the dustbin in the nursery and almost broke a glass by pushing over a small table.  At least he only do things like this once and learn from his experiences.

The biggest challenge I have being back at work now and not being with my son 24/7 is the fact that I will miss out on small things.  Every week since we got him he has done something new and I was the first one to see it.  Now that privilege falls to granny and I am crazy jealous.  Unfortunately this is the downside of not having the luxury of being a stay at home dad.  These days we cannot afford for one parent to stay at home and look after the kids.  Both parents need to work in order to provide the best possible life for our children.  It is by no means ideal but a sad reality.

It will still take me a couple of weeks to get over my shit, separation anxiety and neuroticism.  People tell me it gets easier but right now I think they are lying bastards.  I know I complained some days about having had to change six teething diapers, that our son was particularly difficult that day or that I was tired.  But now I miss all that.  Being back at work feels strange; I now have time to focus on something else and give it my full attention without being interrupted by bodily fluids.  I can have adult conversations with people and can go to the bathroom when I want to and do so alone.  But still I feel guilty.  The guilt I think is normal and will go away.  We all just need to adjust to our new reality and soon it will seem normal.  I hope.

Till next time.
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