An awesome Glee song for my special lady :)

How many of these fucking blogs do I have to write until I'm famous!?!?!?

I used to think that blogs were only for attention whores.


I still do, but now I am one of them.


So there you go.

Thought for the Day

And the Lord spake, saying, "First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin. Then shalt thou count to three, no more, no less. Three shall be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, neither count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out. Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch towards thy foe, who, being naughty in my sight, shall snuff it."                                                             - Monty Python

OMG Straight people are so retarded

Last night I went to a friend’s wedding.  The last wedding I was at was a long time ago, so I really didn’t know what to expect.  The invite did mention something about alcohol not being sold, so to be honest I wasn’t expecting much.

The whole affair was rather drab and uninteresting, except for the part where it was actually a kind of shot-gun wedding, since the happy couple had only met 3 weeks ago.

My friend, L, had always wanted to be married.  I have only known her for about 2 years, but this she tells me on rather a regular basis.  Last year she was married to someone else, but by January of this year she had unwillingly become a lonely divorcee.  Having always been attracted to straight women, I naturally tried to get some action.  Alas, however, I did not get very far.

L met her new husband- the guy she married last night- on a blind date.  It was at a friend’s braai and there were a whole bunch of straight people doing straight things like drinking beer out of mugs and talking about sport and stuff.  The Groom was there but he was not the blind date, some other guy was.

Anyway, the details are sketchy (mostly because I don’t care to remember them), but the blind date guy disappeared and the Groom became a part of L’s life.  In fact, he proudly stood up last night and told us all how he had taken her on a weeklong hike just to “push her to the limit” and see what she is made of.  What he didn’t say is that there were 2 other girls there who were also vying for his affections, in a sort of Survivor-meets-The Bachelor type game show.  Luckily for L though, the other 2 girls didn’t last long and promptly left on day 4 of the hike.

Just as L was about to give up as well the Groom proposed. 

Obviously she had passed this endurance test of love, and now she would get what she wanted- a husband.  I don’t know how ethical it is to make people compete and do a lot of rugged hiking to win your affections, but hey what do I know?

Very little.  That’s what.

At the reception afterwards, I was seated next to a married couple who had been together for 10 years.  That amazed me.  I asked them what the secret it to their longevity as a couple and both of them said they didn’t really have an answer.  Later I found out that they are in fact on the brink of a divorce, and that if it wasn’t for the fact that they have 3 kids they probably would have gotten divorced years ago.

That, to me, is very depressing.  There I was, trying to believe in Love and willing myself to be happy for my friend’s new marriage, but now faced yet again with the painful eventuality of most relationships.  If you look at most relationships, there is a clear point at which the relationship begins to fall apart.  Its kind of like a hill- half of the relationship is building it up, and then the other half is the slow and relentless disintegration of that which was built.

Most people stay in relationships because they are scared of being alone.  And for others it seems to be that this is a decision they make and are quite dedicated to.  Its like they have decided that a part of their identity will be defined by being “married” or “in a relationship”, and so they cannot not be a part of a relationship.  And so they submit themselves to grueling hikes and do all kinds of stupid and degrading things.

We’ve all done it- compromised ourselves for someone else. 

I am not going to lie and say that I wouldn’t like to be in a warm, loving relationship, but I do know that I need to set limits and boundaries for myself in order to preserve what little dignity and self-respect I still have.  Why, just last night I got so depressed with the whole marriage thing that I ended up getting drunk and stoned, and woke up this morning feeling sad and dirty.  Now I will have to clean compulsively in order to remove the invisible dirt in my brain, which is caused whenever I do something I shouldn’t.

So I guess the conclusion of this story is that love is a choice.  If you want to live ”happily ever after” you are going to have to working your ass off to make that happen.  Which makes me think that maybe that whole hiking thing might actually be a good idea.

POES!

Well it just took me an hour to log into this fuken blog.

Not only do I keep on forgetting my passwords for my ten million different accounts, but then my various e-mail addresses suddenly become merged and getting into shit becomes like trying to enter fort knox on a lilo.

Jesus Christ.

Lesbian Anthem

The Gays love drama

For those of you who don’t know what a eunuch is, a eunuch is a sexless human being. Someone who has been castrated.

Someone like Ellen DeGeneres.

Every day- back when I still had DSTV- I would watch Ellen dancing around her studio like a clown. In the beginning I was so happy to see her on TV. Here was a lesbian, making it big despite the political incorrectness of having “out” homosexuals on prime time TV.

However, it wasn’t long before I became bored with Ellen and her stupid show. Sometimes when I was scrolling for something to watch, I would reluctantly click on channel whatever to see Ellen the Eunuch making retarded jokes and dancing over a table which was so obviously a phallic symbol.

Never once has she spoken about her sexuality on her show.

In fact, quite the opposite: like Rosy O’Donnell before her, Ellen now jokes about having a “crush” on this actor and that actor. Sometimes you can slightly detect the satiric undertones, but mostly it’s just the fact that poor Ellen has been castrated by Hollywood and by the public at large.

Even though, in certain respects, it has become very fashionable to be gay these days, it is still not acceptable to actually BE gay. I mean, look at that South African soapie where two guys kissed on screen- the tacky straight people made such a scene about it that they eventually had to cancel the storyline altogether. On that other MNET soapie there was a gay couple, but you would never had said so considering they never once actually kissed, touched or even had sex on screen.

Boring.

These days I don’t watch TV at all, but if I did I would probably not watch Ellen at all. I just feel so sorry for her- that poor castrated woman, running around in her converse sneakers, giving that poor table the ‘ol proverbial lap dance. It’s just not right.

Personally, I really hope poor Ellen eventually finds the self-respect to be a bit more blatant about her sexuality. Maybe she could start by actually saying the word “lesbian” on TV, and then she and that hottie of hers Portia Derossi could make out or something. I don’t know, just something dramatic. Something that says, “Hey guys, look at me, I’m a cunt-licking lesbian and I’m on prime time TV and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

If it was me, I would probably use a lot of expletives to give my statement some more umpf, but I don’t think Ellen would do something like that. I don’t think she has the balls. Lol.

Gay Cliche's (Part 2)

Lesbian relationships confuse me. Not because they are confusing but because they are so painfully dreary. You would think that two women together would create more drama because of all that estrogen and simultaneous monthly bleeding and whathaveyou but that just not the case at all. I’ve seen straight couples have more fun without a strap-on.

Don’t get me wrong, lesbians do have their melodramatic moments. Actually, living in a house of lesbians I have had the privilege and the right of being part of it most of the time. Sometimes I cause it. Not out of malicious intent or anything like that, of course, but just because sometimes I have nothing better to do. Truth be told, I consider it a public service of sorts. The gay flag is colorful people, lets live colorful lives! All of this conformity and status quo bullshit just makes me want to up my Prozac dosage. Yawn…

Not that long ago, a few weeks ago in fact, I was in a relationship with one of my housemates. My bedroom was upstairs and hers was downstairs. It started off innocently enough: she was bi-curious and I was busy with exams and stuff. Occasionally we would exchange pleasantries and then one night she told me she thinks she might be gay. I was trying to watch an episode of “The L word” at the time so I wasn’t really paying attention to her. Mom and Dad had warned me that this girl was of reputable character and tended to roam the streets of Beyers Naude late into the early morning hours. So when Straight Girl (I call her Straight Girl because I think she’s actually straight but just pretends to be gay to get attention) came out to me I decided not to touch her with a ten-foot pole or my tongue for that matter.

Mom and Dad are the lesbian couple that co-owns the house we lived in. They treat me like a child even though I am older than them. I get shouted at when I refuse to pick up their dog’s shit and sometimes I get banned from the TV room for my sarcasm. My best friend Pookie tells me I have no dignity or self-respect for putting up with it and I nod my head in silent agreement.

Straight Girl grew on me at a rapid rate. Kind of like an alien parasite that attaches itself to its host and sucks all the life and blood out of it. Looking back, I think Straight Girl was just what I needed at the time. Sure she was a crazy drunk but she reminded me of that Ricky Martin song: “She’ll make you take your clothes off and go dancing in the rain, she’ll make you live the crazy life and she’ll take away your pain…like a bullet to the brain!”. Straight Girl was the bullet to my brain and I went along for the ride with a smile on my face.

After I caught Straight Girl cheating on me I did what any angry dyke would do: I destroyed all of her earthly belongings and deleted her from my facebook friends. Sms-ing ensued and I was called down to the local Redneck police station to face charges of destruction of property blah blah blah yawn… In the end the charges were dropped and I was a bit upset about it because getting your mug-shot taken very gangsta and would have made an awesome profile picture!

While most lesbians it seems try to blandly conform to heterosexual stereotypes, I tried to be different. Straight Girl and I lived the crazy life, and I can tell you that the time passes infinitely slower without the nightly vodka drink-offs. While most lesbian couples are sitting at home watching DVD’s and deciding whether to adopt or opt for in-vitro fertilization, at least there was never a dull moment during our tempestuous co-dependent union. And now that I am single (and ready to mingle) again, I am left wondering how to find the interesting lesbians?


After Straight Girl moved out, I was left with a big gaping hole where my heart should be. All of that chaos and craziness made me feel more alive than I have for a long time. Now I need more of that and I don’t know where to find it. Maybe it will bite me in the ass again and leave me with yet another mysterious rash, but I’m willing to take that chance. I don’t know where Straight Girl is now- probably roaming the streets of Beyers Naude again- but I hope there are more lesbians out there like her.

Gay Cliche's (Part 1)

It’s a sad reality that drugs are as integral to gay culture as ironed hair and pointy shoes. Lesbians tend to be more like teenage boys in almost every aspect, and are more into smoking weed and “getting wasted, man!”

Gay guys, however, seem to be more into cocaine. Most of them are accountants and lawyers so they are probably the only ones who can afford such an expensive habit. They also tend to be more flitty and anxious, probably from a lifetime of being bullied and called a pansy.

The only time I do cocaine is when I’m with my friend XYZ. XYZ and I went to school together and have somehow managed to keep in contact over the years- something I almost never do. I don’t see him often but when I do we usually do coke.

The worst way to be introduced to drugs is through a boyfriend/girlfriend. Instinctively your brain will always from that moment on link getting high with love. A deadly combination. XYZ was introduced to cocaine by his boyfriend on their first date and now he is addicted.

Yesterday I went to visit XYZ. His boyfriend was away on business so we were just going to rent some DVD’s and eat junk food. Usually if you’re in a club, you’ve either got your drugs or you are about to get them. Sitting with XYZ, the conversation inevitably turned to drugs. “Should we get some, shouldn’t we get some?” It’s a kind of strange ritual he always does before he gets on the phone and orders them.

And then half an hour later there is a knock on the door and there it is. For rich people, the world really is their oyster. And if you can afford it, you can have your drugs delivered to your front door like ordering a pizza.

XYZ is a very high-strung guy so I’m not really sure why he loves cocaine so much. We did so many lines that night that I eventually lost count. I didn’t feel anything and all I am now left with is a pounding headache and dilated pupils the size of marbles. I left my good friend’s fancy apartment thinking that I need to maybe not be friends with him anymore.

Drugs are for sad people. I used to be sad and that is why I took drugs. These days I’m not so sad, so I don’t feel any need to anymore. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I’m deliriously happy or anything. I’m not. But I just don’t feel that huge gaping black hole inside me that used to relentlessly crave and want all the time. All of that cocaine- that expensive cocaine- didn’t even do anything to me. It just made me feel sad, watching my friend talk about his impending relationship doom and feeling the sense of sadness which seemed to engulf him.

At the end of the day, being gay can sometimes come at a price if you don’t do it right. Because of the marginalization of our lifestyle, the primary place we seek refuge is in clubs. Sometimes it’s the only place we can relax and truly be our big gay selves. Unfortunately, part of that process most often involves drugs.

But it shouldn’t have to.

Joburg Pride 2009

I believe in a thing called Love

For a long time I have been against relationships. From what I have seen time and time again, all people ever do is lie, cheat and break each other’s hearts.

Lesbians seem to be the worst of all.

Women seem to be biologically programmed to always want to be in a relationship. It’s like they can’t exist outside of one. When a lesbian couple breaks up, it’s usually only a matter of days before they are already involved with someone else.

I love drama but this kind of drama is just depressing to me.

What happened to the old-school notions of courtship and romance? These days its like partners are strangers even unto each other.

When I first told my brother that I was signing up for Internet dating, his immediate response was that the only people I would meet on the Internet are “ugly people and social retards”. Determined to prove him wrong and desperate to find Love, I decided that I would give it a go anyway.

Going to a club these days is quite an unpleasant experience for me. I feel old and by 8pm most evenings I’m ready for bed; I don’t like loud noises and the smell of cigarette smoke makes me nauseous. Also, lesbians scare me.

When you walk into a lesbian club, women look at you like you’re a piece of meat. Whilst I don’t mind doing this to someone else, I don’t particularly enjoy being a victim of it. Also, we all know that half the reason of getting dressed up and going out is to hook up. When you’re drunk, every woman in the club seems like an enticing prospect- until you wake up the next morning thinking “Oh my God what have I done I hate myself”.

Internet dating at least gives me the advantage of (1) not being drunk, and (2) screening out all the ugly people.

Sure, people can be very diplomatic with their choice of profile picture. But aside from that, I also at least get to know a little about them- stuff you would never learn if you met in a club.

The irony of the situation is that you can actually get to know someone better sitting behind a computer than if you met them in real life.

And contrary to my brother’s warning, I actually did meet attractive, intelligent women that I otherwise would not have met.

Unfortunately I haven’t met “the one” yet. Whilst most lesbians are happy to jump indiscriminately from one relationship to another, I find myself unable to do that. It seems like I have unearthed some romantic notion in myself that I must wait for “the One”- that when our eyes meet across a crowded room we will be inexplicably drawn to one another and then bam bam bam live happily ever after.

When I told my brother this he told me that I’m probably going to die alone.

Maybe he’s right, I don’t know. At the rate that relationships form and dissolve these days though, it seems like we’re all probably going to die alone. Either that or trapped in an unhappy relationship for years and years, quietly stifling the inner voice that says “This isn’t me. I’m not happy”.

To me it seems like a heavy price to pay- to be lonely but not alone. The ultimate compromise. For better or worse, I have always been a person of extremes, and this is one issue I will never compromise on: I will wait for “the One”, I will wait as long as it takes. Even if it means I will die alone.

We are talking about soccer, right?

The other day I was out shopping and couldn’t help notice that I was the only person in Johannesburg who wasn’t wearing a Bafana Bafana soccer jersey.

I couldn’t help but feel that this was some kind of mass conspiracy to confuse me, but as it turns out it wasn’t. Fridays are now “football Friday’s”, so apparently everyone in the entire country now wears this hideous yellow soccer regalia on a weekly basis.

Personally I don’t know what the big deal is. I mean, David Beckham isn’t even playing. I read in the Heat magazine that he got injured and is now reassessing his life, and that he wants Posh to spend less time shopping and more time at home with the boys.

Even as a lesbian I can appreciate how hot David Beckham is. David Beckham is so hot. To tell you the truth, I don’t even know why they’re still having this silly soccer thing if he’s not going to be in it.

And those stupid SA-flag sleeves they are selling on the side of the road these days are just ridiculous as well. You know those things- they fit like socks over your rearview mirrors and made your car look instantly R10k cheaper. And then there are also retarded little flags which you can attach to your roof or just wave wildly while you are driving.

When did we all become so patriotic?

As a general rule, I never read newspapers, listen to the radio, or watch anything on TV that has anything to do with local news/currents affairs. From what I hear, some guy called Julius Malema is causing a lot of shit, and our country may in fact be on the verge of civil war. Most people tell me I am very lucky to have an international passport and that I should probably start packing my bags right away.

I think I am very lucky, though, because for some strange reason politics really doesn’t affect me. I mean, I do my work, I go to the shops, I maybe visit with friends on the weekend. Nowhere in that schedule do you hear of Julius Malema or civil war, do you?

I don’t think so.

The only thing that concerns me these days are these hideous ill-fitting yellow soccer shirts. They’re everywhere. And I kind of feel out of place for being the only person who doesn’t have one. But no matter, for I have an ingenious solution: I am going to stay indoors on Fridays from now on.

Because, as far as I can see, the only atrocities occurring in this country right now are those god-awful soccer jerseys.

Forgive me Oprah for I have sinned...

I remember the first time I had sex in a public place like it happened just yesterday. Actually, it did happen just yesterday. And now, as I sit here soaked in self-loathing and remorse, I feel the need to tell this story in order to expunge myself of my sin…

The night started off innocently enough. My best friend, Whore, invited me to a nearby trendy restaurant for drinks. It was a high school friend’s birthday and since I had met her once before he decided it was appropriate for me to join him even though I wasn’t invited. Whore has no boundaries. Neither do I, for that matter. In fact, since my recent break-up form Straight Girl and his from her best friend, Crazy Guy, the two of us have been inseparable. Most people think that we are “joined at the hip” (no really, those are their exact words), and I would be lying if I said we hadn’t already discussed the possibility of saving up for the operation.

My decision to join Whore for the evening was an obvious one. Of course I would. Besides. It beat staying at home for the evening and dodging Mom and dad’s incessant attempts to get me to watch “The Amazing Race” with them. I didn’t even change my clothes or brush my hair before leaving the house, I just expected the evening to be another dull, lifeless attempt on my part to escape the pain and loneliness I felt slowly gnawing away inside.

Having been raised by a violently unstable, mentally ill mother, I quickly learnt from a young age to be constantly alert and aware of my surroundings. The first time she left me in a crowded shopping mall because she “needed a break” (babysitters were expensive, she later explained), I didn’t fare too well. By the fourth time it happened I was no longer bothered by it and would easily find my way home. Which is why I am still so dumbfounded that I didn’t even see Shaneeqwa (spelt Shan-ee-kwa) coming.

Ok well actually I did see her coming. In fact, I distinctly remember standing up to greet her and her two friends when they arrived for the birthday celebration. For the rest of the evening, however, I didn’t notice her at all and completely forgot she was even there.

Most of that night is still a blur to me, a drunken haze of Jagermeister shooters and 2-for-the-price-of-1 Bacardi Breezers that. What I am trying to get at is that I was very drunk. Couple that with a broken heart, a wounded ego, and a growing sense of existential angst, and you have a recipe for disaster. Or should I say a recipe for an amateur porn lesbian public bathroom sex scene.

Having been oblivious to Sheneequa’a eyes on me all night, I didn’t realize her intention when she asked me to accompany her to the ladies room. “Girls go to the bathroom together all the time”, I thought.

The next thing I know, Shaneequa has pulled me into the tiny toilet cubicle with her and is all over me, tongue down my throat and her hands in my pants. So there I was, caught between a proverbial rock and hard place, doing unspeakable things of a sexual nature with a short, semi-hunchbacked lesbian named with a hair-lip. Not my finest moment let me tell you. I have no idea how long we were in there for or how much noise we made but from the sea of eyes staring at us as we made our way back to our seats I could tell that the rest of the restaurant did. Even Whore was giving me a look I had never seen before: it was a curious mixture of disgust, envy and awe- all facial expressions I had seen before, but never in this particular combination.

Like any emotional cripple, it is my nature to use sex, drugs and alcohol to fill the void I feel inside. When I was in that cubicle getting it on with Shaneequa, apart of me was hoping my ex would somehow find out and that it would prove that I am finally over her even though I am not. What was supposed to be revenge has only left me feeling stupid, cheap and even more alone. Not to mention the fact that my OCD has gone into overdrive. I need to go clean something right away.