It's Friday the 13th and for all those superstitious folk out there, take a Xanax and stay in bed.
I have never believed that there is anything sinister about these "unlucky" Fridays. How can I? I have three black cats who continuously cross my path on a daily basis. Sure my cats are assholes but they have never caused a ladder to fall on me, break a mirror, spill salt or made me forget to touch wood to avoid bad luck. Sure they have tripped me, scratched me (for no reason) and sometimes sit and stare at the wall making weird noises but all of this is just to enforce their authority in the house. They also do this to make us aware that we are the inferior species. Cats like to remind us that they were once worshiped as Gods until some son of a bitch ruined everything for them. So they are just resentful and not evil. Mostly.
Furthermore, touching wood has never helped me to get a parking bay closer to the shop, made me win the lottery or caused me to get a 90% discount on my Botox. In other words - I do not believe in any of this shit. And we should stop being assholes to these Fridays. We will give them an inferiority complex or worse - make them resentful towards us. We don't want them to be pissed off because they are being teased by the other Fridays and make them send Jason after us, now do we. So don't be a dick and enjoy your weekend.
Since it's hubby's birthday this weekend I'm inviting one of his favourite historical people to our fantasy cocktail party in the sky. The man who kicked Germany’s ass with a hip
flask in his pocket - Winston Churchill. Winston Leonard Churchill-Spencer was born into the aristocratic family
of the Dukes of Marlborough and his mother was an American socialite. Winston’s parents did what most aristocrats
did in those days – they left the business of raising their son to a nanny he
called ‘Old Woom’. Rebellious and
independent by nature he was a difficult student and the first book his
governess managed to get him to finish was called ‘Reading Without Tears’. He had a very poor academic record and was
often punished which just goes to show how independent thinking can get one
into trouble and he is the poster child for showing that a bad academic record
does not necessarily mean failure later in life.
When Winston
Churchill’s father died aged 45 he left Winston with the conviction that he
would die young too and he’d better get on with making his mark on the world
early in life. He started his career by
applying to the Royal Military College in Sandhurst, failing the entrance exam
3 times even though he applied to join the cavalry rather than the infantry
which was expected of him, simply because the grade expectations were lower and
it did not require maths, which he disliked intensely. The annual income, even combined with his
allowance from the family trust, was far too little for a man of his extravagant
tastes so he turned his attentions to becoming a war correspondent and soon he
was making quite a significant amount of money on the side. Born with a speech
impediment that some say was a severe stutter but in truth was only a lisp,
Churchill had special dentures made to help his speech once he became a public
figure. We all know who he was so I’m
not going to bore anyone – or myself – writing about his political career and
so on, if you really are interested in all that I have one word: Google. At age 90, 9 days after suffering a severe
stroke he died on 24 January 1965, 70 years to the day after his father’s
death. He more than lived up to his own
expectations of leaving his mark on the world.
Historian, Nobel Prize winner, Artist, Prime Minister, Writer, amateur
bricklayer, butterfly breeder and the first person to become an Honorary
Citizen of the United States, he lived life on his own terms and will forever
be remembered for refusing to surrender.
Winston always
liked to take a drink and legend has it that he suggested to his Colonel that
he should see more of the war and asked to be sent to the front lines in World
War 1 because battalion headquarters was dry and he didn’t have much taste for
the tea and condensmilk they drank, but alcohol was permitted in the
trenches. That never changed – toward
the end of his life he was once asked by an MP at a formal event if he would
like a cup of tea, to which he infamously replied, ‘Don’t be a bloody fool, I
want a large glass of whiskey.’ Guess it’s pretty obvious what his tipple of
choice was. He always preferred it neat
but I looked for a few refreshing cocktails that could be delish in this hot
weather we’re having.
LADY SHIRLEY
The grown up
version of a Shirley Temple this makes me thirsty just looking at the
ingredients.
1 ½ tots good
bourbon
1 tot grenadine
1 ½ tots lemon
juice
Soda Water
Lemon peel for
garnish
Combine bourbon,
lemon juice and grenadine in a cocktail shaker with ice and shake vigorously
(work those arms ladies). Pour into tall
glass over ice, top with soda water and garnish with a curl of lemon peel.
ROYAL BALMORAL PUNCH
Since Winston
had expensive taste and also seeing as my Gentledyke likes to have ‘tea
parties’ with fancy cups filled with Jack Daniels and Coke I thought this
recipe was quite fitting.
3 tots
Glenfiddich 21 year old Single Malt Scotch Whiskey
1 tot tea syrup*
2 tots fresh
Granny Smith apple juice
Champagne
Lemonade
Add the scotch,
tea syrup and apple juice to a fancy teacup and add an ice cube. Top with equal amounts of champagne and
lemonade and garnish with a slice of lemon.
This recipe can be multiplied in a punch bowl for a crowd.
*Tea syrup
I cup of hot
strong brewed English Breakfast tea
I cup sugar
Stir the sugar
into the tea until it has melted and refrigerate.
SATAN’S CIRCUS
Gentledyke said this was one of her favourite
whiskey cocktails so I got the recipe from her and am most definitely going to give it
a try. I know from personal experience
that she makes a mean cocktail!
2 tots whiskey
1 tot cherry liqueur
½ tot Tabasco
sauce
½ tot lemon
juice
Shake the
ingredients together and serve over crushed ice.
Cheers bitches!
GeeGee x
‘You have enemies? Good. That means you have stood
up for something, sometime in your life’ ~ Winston
Leonard Churchill-Spencer
Apparently having a urinary track infection (UTI) is quite normal especially if you are a women. Or so I have been told. I have no way of verifying that with clinical research. Also, if you are gay and have a UTI it is perfectly normal for a nurse to make the assumption that you have slept around while drinking excessively and that your UTI is in all probability is a STD. This is what happened to me this week.
On Tuesday I woke up blissfully unaware that I had a UTI. That was until I had to pee. When I did I was in considerable pain causing me to negotiate with myself for how long I could hold my pee in before I would die. Apparently not long (holding it in, not the dying part). What made it worse was that I was also passing a kidney stone which is right up there on the "I want to die" pain scale.
As the day progressed and I noticed that there was blood in my urine and I grew increasingly concerned. I did not want to die of blood loss through my penis because that would not make for a good story at my funeral. "How did he die? Well, uhm he bled to death? How? Through his penis?"
Naturally when you suspect that you have a UTI you see your doctor. Unfortunately mine was indisposed and could only see me in two days time. Which, when you have a UTI and about to pass a rock through your penis, is a fucking long time to wait.
I did not want to go to the emergency room for my UTI and kidney stone. You see, the problem was that the last time I was there I thought I was having a heart attack which turned out to only be severe heartburn. As such I can never show my face there again. So I opted to go to there pharmacy. It seemed like the lesser of two evils. Also, they did not know about my heartburn incident and would not judge me me.
When I got to the pharmacy and explained my symptoms they seemed quite accommodating at giving me something to make everything better. Well, that was until they heard that there was blood in my urine and then they treated me like a zombie asking for drugs. Feeling less confident to assist me (because they did not want to kill me) I was referred to the nurse. And this is where things went south rather quickly.
I got into the nurse's consulting room and explained what was going on. I just wanted to pass my kidney stone in peace and have my UTI sorted out. So she made me pee in a cup. This would have been fine had I not been experiencing pain at the time. Knowing that I really did not have a choice I reluctantly I complied.
She took the cup with my penis blood and urine and stuck a stick into it and looked at it and then looked at me and said "Hmm there seems to be a lot going on here" To which I thought "No shit lady. Why do you think I am here?" But I didn't say that because I am a gentleman. She said that I definitely had a UTI and then proceeded to ask me if I had been drinking over the weekend to which I responded in the affirmative. This however pissed me off as she made it sound as if I had gone on a drinking binge which was so not the case. And then the part came which really offended me.
"Is your partner also experiencing the same kind of symptoms?" she asked. "Because if he is he would also need to come see me". This made it sound as if my UTI was a STD and that I got it from my husband. I rather rudely responded to her that he wasn't having similar symptoms and that we are not sleeping around. Why I felt the need to explain that to a total stranger holding me pee in her hand is beyond me. But I did it anyway.
Apparently, in her experience, people only come to see her with such symptoms when they are too ashamed to go to their regular doctor because they do have a STD and know it. I found the stereotype I was being boxed into offensive and I was even more upset because it was painful when I peed. It seems that if I am in pain and I don't get drugs to make it go away that I too become rather judgmental: I thought that she was being a bitch which in all probability was not really the case.
After being treated like an alcoholic serial orgy inclined homosexual I got my antibiotics and left. It still hurts when I pee but at least it is not as bad as it was. But at least it no longer feels like I am giving birth to satan through my dick.
I have never used the word penis this often in any of the blog posts I have ever written. So if you are offended by penises I am sorry. It is just that gay guys know a lot about penises and for that I apologize too. Well, not really. But it is what it is. My UTI is being treated and is healing and I passed the kidney stone with great effort. I am still alive and not peeing blood anymore which is a win in my books. I am still offended by the nurse's assumption about me and gay guys in general but I will get over it. However, I will never see her again because I do not plan on getting a STD and if I had one I'd rather see my regular doctor. I prefer being judged by people I know.
I’ve had quite a few run-ins with a disease over the
last few years and it seems to be infecting a lot more people than I thought
possible. It’s called ‘The Failure Disease’ and unfortunately it can’t be
detected by a CAT scan and it has no physical symptoms for one to notice before
you allow sufferers into your world. Common (excuse the pun) symptoms to watch
out for are:
·They
are shameless spongers and no matter what you do for them or how much you help
them out the point will be reached that it won’t be enough and unless you are
giving them exactly the same lifestyle you have you’ll be the cunt in the
story.
·They
won’t have a pot of their own to piss in but are more than happy to sit back
and have others support their sorry asses yet they will also be the first in
line to point out and/or make fun of somebody who is doing their best to make
an honest living if said living is considered ‘beneath them’.
·They
seem to think they are so motherfucking special that the world owes them
something just because of who they are.
·They
are ‘oh so superior’ on social media and often attack others when in reality
they’re the kind of plebs who think Spur is fine dining.
·They
cannot for the life of them think for themselves and always need to be spoon
fed when it comes to doing anything work-related and seem to forget that the
only time spoon feeding doesn't irritate the bejaysus out of one is when you’re feeding
a baby.
·They
cannot control their emotions; they will react like a teenager going through
the worst part of puberty at the smallest thing. I’m talking tantrums, tears
and mini-meltdowns and 5 minutes later it’s all smiles again. God gave you a
mature brain. Use it.
·They
constantly brag about what they used to have and usually if you pay attention
you will quickly notice that there are discrepancies, however tiny they may be.
It’s very hard for liars to keep track of their lies and despite the fact that
since brain op my short term memory is fucked (so fucked that Hubs calls me a
fancy goldfish – a Fantail) it’s like a super power of mine to pick up on those
little discrepancies, then I suddenly have the memory of an elephant.
·Whenever
they get confronted with something and they don’t have an answer they will cry,
and I mean CRY - the kind of crying that involves floods of tears, sobbing and
snot bubbles, usually on the shoulder of whomever confronted them. Then the
poor person who had crocodile tears cried on them is left to deal with the
drying streaks of snot that look like an army of snails attacked them while
they weren’t looking.
·Blaming
others. Honestly, few things grate my tits as much as someone who enjoys
playing ‘the blame game’, few things! You know the type, they are the ones who
never own their shit and will always always
find someone to pin things on, whether it be losing a job, fucking up a
friendship or a business relationship or cheating on their partners; those
motherfuckers will always find someone else to lay it on.
All of the above sometimes makes me want to move to
whatever planet these people live on because there must be rainbow pooping
unicorns that piss glitter there too. Most of us have lost everything at some
point in our lives, some more than once, but the difference between winners and
losers is how often you stand up again. There is no shame in being financially
challenged but sitting on your ass and having a million stories about why
you’ve got nothing, each and every one involving someone else? Damn right there
is shame in that. A LOT! And seriously, if you’re going to spin a lot of
bullshit, at least have the fucken decency to think up better stories, don’t
treat people like they also have double digit IQ’s… mmmkaaaay??
Behind my own curtain I’ve seen and/or experienced the
following and I’m pretty sure a lot of you would recognize one or two of these
examples:
Blame Game: "The branch
failed because my boss wasn’t doing his job and I had to move back to Head
Office when the branch closed and our whole lifestyle had to be thrown out the
window, he’s such a cunt."
Reality: Branch was opened specifically for Blame
Gamer (hereafter known as BG) to run but BG was so useless s/he couldn’t organize
a piss up in a brewery so unsurprisingly branch failed.
Blame Game: "After company
closed I was completely written off and abandoned in a different country by my
boss. He’s such a doos."
Reality: BG was offered a job in new company but
declined, stating they have been offered another opportunity. Said opportunity
fell through so naturally BG would blame Boss for the fact that they had their
dick out and nowhere to put it.
Blame Game: "Boss cut my
salary and I stuck around for ages with nothing in return and he still expected
my loyalty. He’s a real asshole."
Reality: Boss closed company and instead of
retrenching everyone he gave employees the opportunity/choice to be part of new
start-up, which would include a shareholding once company took off. BG seemed
to think a new company would be an overnight success and didn’t realize it took
cojones which s/he seriously lacked.
Business isn’t for pussies people, that’s why there are only 500 people in the
Fortune 500! It’s not called the Fortune 2 000 000.
Blame Game: "I fucked around
because my spouse was a real killjoy, never letting me have my friends over and
always wanting to know exactly where I was when I was out jolling. It’s their fault
we got divorced, not mine. S/he’s such a bitch."
Reality: BG thought s/he could still go out partying
every night once married without spouse knowing where they were or who they
were with. BG also expected spouse to entertain friends until the early hours on
week nights while they trashed the belongings paid for by spouse and treated
said home like a student commune when spouse had to be up early in the morning
to be at the job that supported BG’s lifestyle. Maybe next time BG will use a
condom when having sex with a bloke so BG doesn’t get caught – dudes leave
evidence behind!
I ask myself two things at the end of each day; did I
do something productive and did I conduct myself with integrity and honesty?
None of us are perfect and we all fuck up, sometimes by accident and sometimes
on purpose, but if you can constantly be disloyal and dishonest to your
friends/co-workers/employers/employees /partners (whether in life or business)
you are going to get exactly the life
you deserve. You may think you’re clever and give yourself a little pat on the
back every time you get away with it but people really aren’t stupid and at
some point the day is going to come when their eyes open wide and they see you
for exactly who you are and then you’ll be pretty fucked - sideways with a
cactus, without KY.
We don’t always feel super productive or creative but
even if you just get a head start on that room or cupboard where you hide your
shame (you know the one – it’s where things you hide that are messy just seem
to get a life of their own and multiply like weird alien life forms) you
already feel you’ve achieved something, however small it may have been. We also
don’t always feel particularly super close to our
friends/co-workers/employers/employees/partners but what the fuck is up with blatantly
being able to sit there with a smile on your face while you’re either busy
screwing them over or plotting how to screw them over? I’m sorry, I really
don’t get that. Maybe my mask is full of cracks because I cannot maintain that
kind of two-faced behavior for more than a day. I only ever manage that in an
emergency and then I feel dirty. As much as I may hate it, that’s what life is
about sometimes and I do have the cojones
to do what needs to be done thankyouverymuch.
I don’t have time for weak minded people since I have come to realize
how dangerous they can be. Sheeple cannot think for themselves and are very
easily turned; sometimes it’s so obvious that when they speak you can actually
see their puppeteer’s hand up their asses moving their mouths like a
ventriloquists dummy (well waddaya know, another pun!) in your mind’s eye. To
those puppeteers I say, good luck to you dude/ette. May the best wo/man win,
just remember that true winners never start a battle but they always win the
war.
That’s it for now my Beauties, I think I’ve said
enough to help you recognize those with ‘The Failure Disease’ and if I helped
even one of you get rid of a succubus in your life my job here is done!
Live well, love much, laugh often and always remember
to dance!
As some of you know, I stopped blogging for a couple of months. I even considered quitting for good. The main reason being that I am so much more than my social media persona. There are so many more layers of myself. Most of us project a very different image of ourselves on social media and it is rare when your social media persona is congruent with the essence of who you truly are. So why do we do this?
Over the years I found that the person people like to read about on my blog is only one tenth of who I am. In reality it is very difficult for me to be a fucking delightful person All. Of. The. Time. After a while it feels like this is all that people want from you. That this is only what people want to read about me and my life. We never project a true image of ourselves on the internet. We don't post the truth when we are really depressed. Instead why pretend everything is fine. That all is ok when it is not.
I think we do this because we are scared that if we reveal that side of ourselves that the people on our friend list will judge us. It seems that most of us seek approval and acceptance on social media which is a shame. We don't want to sound weak. We don't want people to know our true thoughts and feelings. We want to present a facade to the world. We want to appear to be the person people want to see in the cyber world. We pretend we are better than what we actually are.
Let's face it, life is not always a ray of sunshine. Sometimes things are rather shitty. We might have issues at work, in our relationship and/or with our families. Yet, on social media, it is very rare that we will reveal this. And the people who do we see as attention seeking or pathetic. They are the people who depresses us and the people we see as complainers and we judge them for sharing. Furthermore, we also judge them for "over sharing" and this is why most of us don't share our troubles and only put on that fake social media smile.
I have found that I have done this quite often on social media. I have always tried to be delightful and funny on my blog. I wanted people to laugh, I wanted people to smile and brighten their day. I wanted, and still do, people to like my blog.
The truth is that this is only a small part of who I am. I rarely blog about my struggle with depression and anxiety. Like I said before I didn't blog about this because I did not want people to judge me. I also know of quite a lot of people who will be judgemental. But the truth is we do not share this part of our lives because we are either ashamed of suffering from mental illness or we are afraid that if people knew they will see us differently. We don't want to share that part of our lives with people, especially not total strangers.
It has been said that many comedians suffer from depression. Often this is a side of themselves we do not see or would not even believe to be true. After all they are so funny and energetic on stage. We have come to accept that they will make us laugh and assume that they're always like that. We don't want to know about their issues off stage because, god forbid, that will make them seem less funny. The same goes for us - bloggers.
People don't want to read on social media about your shit depressing day. This is why we, most of the time, I never share it. The person we present ourselves to be on the internet is the person we want to be. The person we want other people to believe we are.
I have decided that I will no longer confine myself to the persona people want to believe I am on the internet and social media. I will own my life. Sure I will still not completely reveal all of myself because there is a thin line between privacy and revealing too much. Certain things should remain private. But I have decided to not always appear to be the comedian and delightful person you would like at your dinner party because that is not who I am. I am the person who would rather spend the night at home than go to a party. The person who do not like crowds because they make me anxious. The person who isn't always happy and content. I am who I am and if people do not like me, well then they can go fuck themselves.
Coming to this decision probably comes with age and maturity. It is also quite liberating when you have made this decision. I do recommend it for most of you. Be who you are. Be who you were born to be. We are more than our social media personas.
November is Adoption Awareness Month. This has a very special meaning for us. If it wasn't for adoption we would have never been blessed with our beautiful son. Adoption is not an easy road to travel. It has many emotional ups and downs but in the end of the day it is all worth it.
Our adoption journey is similar to many other LGBT families. Sure there might be a few small difference, here and there, but essentially we all have traveled down the same road. If you are thinking of adoption and want to see what it all entails (from when you decided to adopt until you are a parent) you can get a glimpse by reading about our adoption journey.
