Gig day #2.
No time to really yack here at'cha, but I really wanted you to know what a 95 year old G'ma says when seeing me with a black sequin bra, leather jacket, shorter than private school standard school girl skirt, make-up of a drag queen and black faux leather knee high boots.
"Oh! Don't you look nice!"
Indeed.
Off I go to prepare for today.
Will post pics my friends.
Oh, the smoke alarm just went off.
G'ma wants to know who's calling.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Friday, July 29, 2011
nothing.
So, I can't really blame satan's revival yesterday on not having my coffee.
I can't really blame it on Sir Bark-A-Lot, nor Papi leaving the door open so that Sir Bark-A-Lot would feel the impulse to patrol Psycho Kitty who lives upstairs with G'ma.
Really, what it all comes down to is performing.
I've told 'you', my imaginary friend, that I've had anxiety before shows since I was a kid, and how I was the most horrid person to be around for a week prior to my piano recitals.
As a young adult, I would spend the majority of the pre-show time in isolation, occupying filthy bar bathrooms that were unfit for even the dregs of society. I'd cross my fingers that nobody would see me leave and find out who was responsible for the 'odeur du death'.
As time went on, I became more accustomed to these nerves and knew how to deal with them, awarding me a feeling of excitement instead of anxiety before my appearances.
Then came the motorcycle accident and brain injury, forcing me into 2.5 years off from the big stage.
Now?
I'm healing.
Now.
I'm ready for bigger stages.
Now:
My stomach is reeling in anticipation of the crowd we'll be performing for tonight and tomorrow.
Now!
It's like I'm thrown right back to my childhood, being served a main course of the shakes with a side of butterfly twists.
i'm sure this coffee will help with shaking eh? not to mention a cranky stomach ...
I'm really no fun to live with before my spectacles.
Papi has figured out that I'm a 'bit' of a schizoid before presentations of my craft.
This is such a good thing, because Papi can say to me, "Aw, are you getting scared about the show?"
I want to deny it.
I want to say, "No way! I'm a pro remember? I was that 'up and coming' bass goddess until the accident."
But I have to admit.
Yes.
It's back to square one. And this is in so many regards.
2.5 years is a lifetime in the entertainment world.
Everyone has forgotten about me and lost interest in my art, contacts have changed, and a few fans have actually reply with 'remove' from my email based promotions.
I'm starting all over again and having to win new devotees one more time.
This is why I think that it really is good to put HECTOR on the back burner and BlueLight in the forefront.
You can't make a come back when you're coming back from 'up and coming'. It doesn't work. You have to come out with something fresh and attack it with fire!
So, here I go.
Really, tonight I'm playing for such a fun crowd.
Fag-O-Rama!!!!
It's a big drunk fest leading up to the Pride Parade, where they shut down Davie Street, setting up an outdoor bar and people are drunk by noon.
It's a bunch of sparkly fags with boas and shiny hot pants looking as pretty as possible, along with a spattering of the occasional dyke and fag hag.
What's there to be afraid of?
Nothing.
And that's what anxiety is all about.
Nothing.
I can't really blame it on Sir Bark-A-Lot, nor Papi leaving the door open so that Sir Bark-A-Lot would feel the impulse to patrol Psycho Kitty who lives upstairs with G'ma.
Really, what it all comes down to is performing.
I've told 'you', my imaginary friend, that I've had anxiety before shows since I was a kid, and how I was the most horrid person to be around for a week prior to my piano recitals.
As a young adult, I would spend the majority of the pre-show time in isolation, occupying filthy bar bathrooms that were unfit for even the dregs of society. I'd cross my fingers that nobody would see me leave and find out who was responsible for the 'odeur du death'.
As time went on, I became more accustomed to these nerves and knew how to deal with them, awarding me a feeling of excitement instead of anxiety before my appearances.
Then came the motorcycle accident and brain injury, forcing me into 2.5 years off from the big stage.
Now?
I'm healing.
Now.
I'm ready for bigger stages.
Now:
My stomach is reeling in anticipation of the crowd we'll be performing for tonight and tomorrow.
Now!
It's like I'm thrown right back to my childhood, being served a main course of the shakes with a side of butterfly twists.
i'm sure this coffee will help with shaking eh? not to mention a cranky stomach ...
I'm really no fun to live with before my spectacles.
Papi has figured out that I'm a 'bit' of a schizoid before presentations of my craft.
This is such a good thing, because Papi can say to me, "Aw, are you getting scared about the show?"
I want to deny it.
I want to say, "No way! I'm a pro remember? I was that 'up and coming' bass goddess until the accident."
But I have to admit.
Yes.
It's back to square one. And this is in so many regards.
2.5 years is a lifetime in the entertainment world.
Everyone has forgotten about me and lost interest in my art, contacts have changed, and a few fans have actually reply with 'remove' from my email based promotions.
I'm starting all over again and having to win new devotees one more time.
This is why I think that it really is good to put HECTOR on the back burner and BlueLight in the forefront.
You can't make a come back when you're coming back from 'up and coming'. It doesn't work. You have to come out with something fresh and attack it with fire!
So, here I go.
Really, tonight I'm playing for such a fun crowd.
Fag-O-Rama!!!!
It's a big drunk fest leading up to the Pride Parade, where they shut down Davie Street, setting up an outdoor bar and people are drunk by noon.
It's a bunch of sparkly fags with boas and shiny hot pants looking as pretty as possible, along with a spattering of the occasional dyke and fag hag.
What's there to be afraid of?
Nothing.
And that's what anxiety is all about.
Nothing.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
All hail the god of coffee!
I'm not sure why I like to make myself suffer.
masochist much?
I didn't get enough sleep and I would have done better if I would have just accepted this fact and made a coffee instead of having my first words of the day spit from a forked tongue.
I'm pretty sure I saw a few horns come out as well.
There was almost a death in the family.
chihuahua fucking stew anyone?!
Papi was trying to get Psycho Kitty out of the poo-box and Sir Bark-A-Lot was doing his usual, "Lemme at 'im! Lemme at 'im!" thing.
Of course, I woke up way too early for my day off/beginning of 3 day mayhem.
I really do have 3 treacherous days ahead of me and I don't need to wind up with another fucking fever while I'm trying to get my voice back up to snuff.
So, needless to say, I really gave Papi a hard time this morning.
good fucking morning mother fuckers!!!!!!!!!!!! how do ya fucking like me now??!?!?!?
I've accepted Sir Bark-A-Lot's apology and am now enjoying a cup of coffee.
Had I have done that in the first place, I would have had a cup of attitude adjustment before I let Papi see my worst profile.
My intention really was to stay off the coffee as much as possible. Hence, I spend every day repeating the mantra I learned at an anonymous club for drunks.
"One day at a time."
In the case of my coffee addiction, it really is one minute at a time.
I constantly have to check in with myself, "Do you really need a coffee? Or is it the addiction talking? Could you go without and manage the day?"
Non-fucking-stop.
This has been a battle for years!
I was so proud of myself all those years that I could say to people, "Oh, no, I don't drink coffee. I don't even eat chocolate because the caffeine will deplete all the vitamins."
little miss holier than thou
Mind you, this was at the same time as I'd drink my face off, smoke anything I could get and remain snap drunk and high every chance I was able.
So, why is it that I try so hard to delete the only vice I have?!?!?!
It's a fucking cup of coffee!!!!!
just drink the fucking thing you fucking crazy lady!!!!!
Seriously.
I love coffee and coffee loves me.
**takes another gulp of spicy cinnamon and sweet stevia infused black goodness**
I start every day with the battle. And why?
I mean, it's not going to kill me, but every day I spend the whole day obsessing about one cup of coffee.
Yeah, I know I'm crazy. I'm good with it.
I should just accept that it's the only thing I really have as a vice.
So, now I make the solemn vow!
I, Andréa Hector-Brown, will no longer torture myself with abstaining from nature's most amazing miracle.
Life is too fucking short.
Amen.
**take the last drops of coffee and smiles at the world**
masochist much?
I didn't get enough sleep and I would have done better if I would have just accepted this fact and made a coffee instead of having my first words of the day spit from a forked tongue.
I'm pretty sure I saw a few horns come out as well.
There was almost a death in the family.
chihuahua fucking stew anyone?!
Papi was trying to get Psycho Kitty out of the poo-box and Sir Bark-A-Lot was doing his usual, "Lemme at 'im! Lemme at 'im!" thing.
Of course, I woke up way too early for my day off/beginning of 3 day mayhem.
I really do have 3 treacherous days ahead of me and I don't need to wind up with another fucking fever while I'm trying to get my voice back up to snuff.
So, needless to say, I really gave Papi a hard time this morning.
good fucking morning mother fuckers!!!!!!!!!!!! how do ya fucking like me now??!?!?!?
I've accepted Sir Bark-A-Lot's apology and am now enjoying a cup of coffee.
Had I have done that in the first place, I would have had a cup of attitude adjustment before I let Papi see my worst profile.
My intention really was to stay off the coffee as much as possible. Hence, I spend every day repeating the mantra I learned at an anonymous club for drunks.
"One day at a time."
In the case of my coffee addiction, it really is one minute at a time.
I constantly have to check in with myself, "Do you really need a coffee? Or is it the addiction talking? Could you go without and manage the day?"
Non-fucking-stop.
This has been a battle for years!
I was so proud of myself all those years that I could say to people, "Oh, no, I don't drink coffee. I don't even eat chocolate because the caffeine will deplete all the vitamins."
little miss holier than thou
Mind you, this was at the same time as I'd drink my face off, smoke anything I could get and remain snap drunk and high every chance I was able.
So, why is it that I try so hard to delete the only vice I have?!?!?!
It's a fucking cup of coffee!!!!!
just drink the fucking thing you fucking crazy lady!!!!!
Seriously.
I love coffee and coffee loves me.
**takes another gulp of spicy cinnamon and sweet stevia infused black goodness**
I start every day with the battle. And why?
I mean, it's not going to kill me, but every day I spend the whole day obsessing about one cup of coffee.
Yeah, I know I'm crazy. I'm good with it.
I should just accept that it's the only thing I really have as a vice.
So, now I make the solemn vow!
I, Andréa Hector-Brown, will no longer torture myself with abstaining from nature's most amazing miracle.
Life is too fucking short.
Amen.
**take the last drops of coffee and smiles at the world**
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Clique.
My performance went great!
thank you coffee
Only problem with my voice was the lower part of my register. If that's all the fever took, I'm cool with it. For now that is.
I'll be keeping the chatting in the ice box at work today. Gotta make sure my voice is up to snuff for the next 2 shows Friday and Saturday.
It was just wonderful to see so many people last night and receive so much love.
My Person was there. I told her I was going to the Gender Odyssey and asked if I could catch a ride.
Again I was one upped. "Sure! There's even room for you to stay with us if you want!" This sounds like a great idea, considering the fact that it's right near the conference.
I had asked The Yank if I could stay there, but it may make more sense for me to be somewhere I don't need to take a cab to.
When My Person asked if it was just me who would be attending, I confirmed that it was, only to hear My Person squeal like a teenager with joy! She took my hands and we were having a moment of bonding and allegiance to the femme club.
She told me about all the different kinds of people we will experience in our workshops. She told me there would be Rah-Rah-Trannies, there would be Tranny Chasers, and that there would be tranny haters that will make me look like I'm carrying the pom-poms for the Rah-Rah-Tranny cheering foundation.
I told her I just want to find more love and acceptance, and perhaps more allies. She told me that even she is still at odds.
She told me that there is really nothing wrong with living in both worlds. Take one hat off and put another hat on.
Sometimes, she's seen as straight, sometimes she's seen as queer.
I just hate the straight part. I'm so angry that I get thrown into the closet against my will.
When Papi and I go into public, I'll just be the normal straight girl that I fought so hard to leave behind all those years ago.
Then there's the Trans Clique. There's a very large clique in the transgender community who support each other. Which is needed.
However, when Papi told me I need to start hanging out with the Trans Clique, I felt uncomfortable.
I don't just accompany femmes just because we're femmes. I convene with femmes who touch my heart and fill me with strength.
I pal up with straight people who are the sweet souls whom I've loved since before I came out of the closet, and more that I've encountered along my journey of life.
I get together with trans people whom I've watched go through the changes and loved them along the way.
I buddy up with butches that I adore, who have hearts bigger than most people, even though they look so tough on the outside.
There isn't just a clique of people I consort with. I don't want to hang out with the Trans Clique just because Papi is trans.
I collect my hearts one by one. I connect with souls who are like minded, sensitive and intuitive in our hearts, and keep them as a prize I've won.
So when Papi told me I need to support mi esposo by hanging out with the Trans Clique, I got very uncomfortable indeed.
Cliques scare the fuck out of me.
They have done damage to me like no other humans on the planet.
Time and time again, they attack the weakest chicken in the coop. They segregate and plan their attack behind my back, "Ok, so don't talk to Andréa anymore." They just whisper into one another's ear as they cast their death stare toward me.
Over and over they gang up on one individual and oust them with no effort. They laugh as a group, pointing from the balcony as I meekly walk away from the home they stole from me.
Repeatedly, they find a way to ostracize one individual to make themselves feel power. They confirm my fears, and add to the torment of my social anxiety.
Dearest Papi, don't bring me into a place that could take away all the strength I've worked 8 months to build.
I'm still at a point where I am the weak hen who could be pecked to death.
thank you coffee
Only problem with my voice was the lower part of my register. If that's all the fever took, I'm cool with it. For now that is.
I'll be keeping the chatting in the ice box at work today. Gotta make sure my voice is up to snuff for the next 2 shows Friday and Saturday.
It was just wonderful to see so many people last night and receive so much love.
My Person was there. I told her I was going to the Gender Odyssey and asked if I could catch a ride.
Again I was one upped. "Sure! There's even room for you to stay with us if you want!" This sounds like a great idea, considering the fact that it's right near the conference.
I had asked The Yank if I could stay there, but it may make more sense for me to be somewhere I don't need to take a cab to.
When My Person asked if it was just me who would be attending, I confirmed that it was, only to hear My Person squeal like a teenager with joy! She took my hands and we were having a moment of bonding and allegiance to the femme club.
She told me about all the different kinds of people we will experience in our workshops. She told me there would be Rah-Rah-Trannies, there would be Tranny Chasers, and that there would be tranny haters that will make me look like I'm carrying the pom-poms for the Rah-Rah-Tranny cheering foundation.
I told her I just want to find more love and acceptance, and perhaps more allies. She told me that even she is still at odds.
She told me that there is really nothing wrong with living in both worlds. Take one hat off and put another hat on.
Sometimes, she's seen as straight, sometimes she's seen as queer.
I just hate the straight part. I'm so angry that I get thrown into the closet against my will.
When Papi and I go into public, I'll just be the normal straight girl that I fought so hard to leave behind all those years ago.
Then there's the Trans Clique. There's a very large clique in the transgender community who support each other. Which is needed.
However, when Papi told me I need to start hanging out with the Trans Clique, I felt uncomfortable.
I don't just accompany femmes just because we're femmes. I convene with femmes who touch my heart and fill me with strength.
I pal up with straight people who are the sweet souls whom I've loved since before I came out of the closet, and more that I've encountered along my journey of life.
I get together with trans people whom I've watched go through the changes and loved them along the way.
I buddy up with butches that I adore, who have hearts bigger than most people, even though they look so tough on the outside.
There isn't just a clique of people I consort with. I don't want to hang out with the Trans Clique just because Papi is trans.
I collect my hearts one by one. I connect with souls who are like minded, sensitive and intuitive in our hearts, and keep them as a prize I've won.
So when Papi told me I need to support mi esposo by hanging out with the Trans Clique, I got very uncomfortable indeed.
Cliques scare the fuck out of me.
They have done damage to me like no other humans on the planet.
Time and time again, they attack the weakest chicken in the coop. They segregate and plan their attack behind my back, "Ok, so don't talk to Andréa anymore." They just whisper into one another's ear as they cast their death stare toward me.
Over and over they gang up on one individual and oust them with no effort. They laugh as a group, pointing from the balcony as I meekly walk away from the home they stole from me.
Repeatedly, they find a way to ostracize one individual to make themselves feel power. They confirm my fears, and add to the torment of my social anxiety.
Dearest Papi, don't bring me into a place that could take away all the strength I've worked 8 months to build.
I'm still at a point where I am the weak hen who could be pecked to death.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
I am so not in control.
Some of my Trust List friends have been lovingly coaxing me to go to Gender Odyssey.
Considering the fact that Papi and I are now so broke it's spooky, I had to bow out and rely on having my support through my Trust List instead.
I was feeling so down about the fact that it's just not affordable to go to this event, that I decided to invite my Trust List to lunch on the weekend that this tranny soirée was happening.
I thought, "Well, I can't get support there, but I'll get it in my own way."
No dice.
Every person but one said they couldn't make it. They were out of town, or had plans etc etc etc.
I felt so alone. I felt that I was meant to be alone and that I didn't have the cosmos on my side.
but wait?! what's this?! a light at the end of the tunnel?!?
Then My Person told me to look into a subsidy/scholarship. She told me to tell them my brief history, that Papi was a newcomer to the transformation and how I need support.
I put in the appropriate application and letter ...
i had to keep my letter under 175 words. yeah. me. chatterbox extraordinaire ...
... and left it up to luck and/or someone who cared.
I spoke to the one person on my Trust List who could make it to the lunch, "It looks like it's only you and me. I put in an application for a subsidy/scholarship and if I'm not accepted, would you like to join me one on one for lunch?"
This amazing friend one upped me. "I'll do better. I'll help subsidize you. How does $100 sound?"
I couldn't believe it.
I honestly couldn't believe it.
Who is that insanely generous?!?!
Well, it looks like my friend is.
When my love woke up, I excitedly told Papi that there was subsidy from my friend and a possibility of subsidy from the Odyssey itself.
Papi said, "You can't take her money!!!! That's crazy!!!"
I replied, "Well, she's already put it into my PayPal."
Papi stopped, looking a little shocked and in awe, not really knowing what to say. To be honest, it looked a bit like how I felt when my friend first offered. "Wow. Ok, but don't count on them giving you a subsidy too."
alright negative nelly.
When I checked my email today, lo and behold, I had the subsidy.
ok ... apparently i'm really supposed to go
After closing my mouth, I decided to share the exciting news with 'you', my imaginary friend.
It's things like this that make me realize I'm meant to be in this relationship. I'm meant to learn how to remain in love with my soul mate despite us going through this male transformation. I'm meant to open my eyes and heart to this new world I've been so against for so many years.
This time is meant to be.
Perhaps I'll gain some insight. Perhaps I'll find allies. I'm positive I'll find others who, like Papi, are bubbling with joy over the chopping and hacking of their body parts.
Papi is still healing from the top surgery and can't do a lot as of yet, however, my love is already looking forward to the hysterectomy.
seriously?
There was my love, at the end of our bed, doing the happy dance. Hips waving back and forth. Arms moving with the mocking white man sway, almost emulating a chicken, "I can't wait to get my hysterectomy! It's coming soon!"
I couldn't believe I was seeing this jig and hearing this elation, after mi esposo had been complaining about the pain for the past month. "Honey, if you think your top surgery hurt, this next one is going to be wayyyyy worse. I wouldn't be doing the happy dance if I were you."
"Yeah I know that, but I'm not hurting as much, so I've forgotten how bad it was and I'm just looking forward to getting it all done."
Oh boy.
Goody gumdrops.
The next mother fucking hurdle.
Yup. I'm really supposed to go to the Gender Odyssey and learn more about my part in all this.
However, right now, I must go and try to look fancy for a performance tonight, after spending two days in bed with a fever.
Envy me?
yeah ... sure.
Considering the fact that Papi and I are now so broke it's spooky, I had to bow out and rely on having my support through my Trust List instead.
I was feeling so down about the fact that it's just not affordable to go to this event, that I decided to invite my Trust List to lunch on the weekend that this tranny soirée was happening.
I thought, "Well, I can't get support there, but I'll get it in my own way."
No dice.
Every person but one said they couldn't make it. They were out of town, or had plans etc etc etc.
I felt so alone. I felt that I was meant to be alone and that I didn't have the cosmos on my side.
but wait?! what's this?! a light at the end of the tunnel?!?
Then My Person told me to look into a subsidy/scholarship. She told me to tell them my brief history, that Papi was a newcomer to the transformation and how I need support.
I put in the appropriate application and letter ...
i had to keep my letter under 175 words. yeah. me. chatterbox extraordinaire ...
... and left it up to luck and/or someone who cared.
I spoke to the one person on my Trust List who could make it to the lunch, "It looks like it's only you and me. I put in an application for a subsidy/scholarship and if I'm not accepted, would you like to join me one on one for lunch?"
This amazing friend one upped me. "I'll do better. I'll help subsidize you. How does $100 sound?"
I couldn't believe it.
I honestly couldn't believe it.
Who is that insanely generous?!?!
Well, it looks like my friend is.
When my love woke up, I excitedly told Papi that there was subsidy from my friend and a possibility of subsidy from the Odyssey itself.
Papi said, "You can't take her money!!!! That's crazy!!!"
I replied, "Well, she's already put it into my PayPal."
Papi stopped, looking a little shocked and in awe, not really knowing what to say. To be honest, it looked a bit like how I felt when my friend first offered. "Wow. Ok, but don't count on them giving you a subsidy too."
alright negative nelly.
When I checked my email today, lo and behold, I had the subsidy.
ok ... apparently i'm really supposed to go
After closing my mouth, I decided to share the exciting news with 'you', my imaginary friend.
It's things like this that make me realize I'm meant to be in this relationship. I'm meant to learn how to remain in love with my soul mate despite us going through this male transformation. I'm meant to open my eyes and heart to this new world I've been so against for so many years.
This time is meant to be.
Perhaps I'll gain some insight. Perhaps I'll find allies. I'm positive I'll find others who, like Papi, are bubbling with joy over the chopping and hacking of their body parts.
Papi is still healing from the top surgery and can't do a lot as of yet, however, my love is already looking forward to the hysterectomy.
seriously?
There was my love, at the end of our bed, doing the happy dance. Hips waving back and forth. Arms moving with the mocking white man sway, almost emulating a chicken, "I can't wait to get my hysterectomy! It's coming soon!"
I couldn't believe I was seeing this jig and hearing this elation, after mi esposo had been complaining about the pain for the past month. "Honey, if you think your top surgery hurt, this next one is going to be wayyyyy worse. I wouldn't be doing the happy dance if I were you."
"Yeah I know that, but I'm not hurting as much, so I've forgotten how bad it was and I'm just looking forward to getting it all done."
Oh boy.
Goody gumdrops.
The next mother fucking hurdle.
Yup. I'm really supposed to go to the Gender Odyssey and learn more about my part in all this.
However, right now, I must go and try to look fancy for a performance tonight, after spending two days in bed with a fever.
Envy me?
yeah ... sure.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Extravaganza indeed!
My love and I gave each other a pre-dinner gift.
Mi esposo had one of my rings fixed. It was an amber ring that was missing it's gem. I was so happy to have this sweet ring back in my life. It meant a lot to me.
You see, G'ma had given it to me, and honestly, G'ma doesn't just 'give' her jewelery away.
I gave Papi some cute boy boxers that my love had been eyeing up at a local sex/book shop, Little Sister's.
I was so very ready to go for dinner, and Papi looked handsome.
We drove downtown, and I had no idea which restaurant we were going to, until when we pulled into the parking lot under Harbour Centre. Now I knew where we were going; The Top of Vancouver Revolving Restaurant.
I was happy to get to just enjoy the view for a change, as I used to be a tour guide and walked people around yakking at them about our fine city.
The host who welcomed us for our reservations knew it was our 1st wedding anniversary. I was so impressed!
When dinner had finished, it was time for desert. Of course I couldn't have any, but Papi asked for a menu, because my love doesn't need to suffer for my food allergies.
When the waitress came back, she brought my love an awesome looking piece of mango cheesecake on the house for our anniversary. It had me yearning immediately, but I was simultaneously distracted by a plate that was placed in front of me with a 'special treat' just for me.
It was such a nice gesture, but I assumed I wouldn't be able to eat it, even though I didn't know what it was. It was wrapped in bright red paper in a box that was not so big.
When I picked it up, I felt it shift to one side, and thought it was a nice big chunk of chocolate. My mouth immediately started watering, but I know I can't eat dairy and sadly said, "That's so sweet of them, but I know I won't be able to eat it. It will either be filled with dairy, or wrapped in wheat, or both."
My love looked at me and said, "Oh, I don't think you'll be allergic to this."
I was so excited! That must mean that my love got me a special wheat free, dairy free treat that I could have! And the fact that it was wrapped as a surprise was such a nice touch.
When I opened it up, I was a little shocked to see a box from our jeweler, Gurvin, who made our engagement and wedding rings.
I was just a little confused as to what this could be! I mean, it's a ring box and we don't have any money, so it couldn't possibly be anything expensive.
I slowly opened the box and damn!
It was a diamond encrusted ring that was very similar to my wedding band.
My love had a disclaimer, "Well, this is not your ring. Your ring is still being made. I told Gurvin I need to have it by today, but you know Gurvin ... So, he's lent us this one until yours is finished."
That's our jeweler.
Papi has known him since forever, and he adores my love so much that he would allow Papi to just take a ring out of the many gorgeous rings that would be 'similar' just so that I could open a beautiful gift.
It doesn't really fit well, but left on the inside of my wedding and engagement ring, it will stay put.
So, I decided I'd wear it anyway.
You can't really see it in this pic, because it's hiding behind my engagement ring.
but i mean really! bling-a-ding-ding!! hell ya I'm going to wear it even if it doesn't fit!
After dinner, we went to the beach and had a little sit down to watch the sun set behind the clouds. It wasn't all that warm, so it really was a short stay, but it was just nice to sit with Papi.
We were the fanciest people at the beach.
i was sinking in the sand in my heels eek!!!
It was a beautiful evening with my love, and when we got home, I gave mi esposo the other half of Papi's gift.
Well, mine wasn't as extravagant, but it was fun.
It's called 'Nookii', a game for adults.
I was ready to play, obviously, because I had my coffee, but Papi, looked at me with tired eyes and apologized, "Honey, I'm just so tired, I just can't."
I suppose we'll have to wait another day to play 'Nookii', and give The Love Patrol a chance to do his job.
Regardless, it was a wonderful One Year Wedding Anniversary Extravaganza.
The only bad news was, now that I'm wearing over a karat in diamonds, Papi took my love's engagement ring back saying, "I think it'll be fine for me to wear it now. Nobody will look at it like it's weird, right?"
I almost wanted to lie just to keep the ring.
ummm ... no papi ... men don't wear that kind of ring.
But I didn't. I'll play nice.
Mi esposo had one of my rings fixed. It was an amber ring that was missing it's gem. I was so happy to have this sweet ring back in my life. It meant a lot to me.
You see, G'ma had given it to me, and honestly, G'ma doesn't just 'give' her jewelery away.
I gave Papi some cute boy boxers that my love had been eyeing up at a local sex/book shop, Little Sister's.
I was so very ready to go for dinner, and Papi looked handsome.
We drove downtown, and I had no idea which restaurant we were going to, until when we pulled into the parking lot under Harbour Centre. Now I knew where we were going; The Top of Vancouver Revolving Restaurant.
I was happy to get to just enjoy the view for a change, as I used to be a tour guide and walked people around yakking at them about our fine city.
The host who welcomed us for our reservations knew it was our 1st wedding anniversary. I was so impressed!
When the waitress came back, she brought my love an awesome looking piece of mango cheesecake on the house for our anniversary. It had me yearning immediately, but I was simultaneously distracted by a plate that was placed in front of me with a 'special treat' just for me.
It was such a nice gesture, but I assumed I wouldn't be able to eat it, even though I didn't know what it was. It was wrapped in bright red paper in a box that was not so big.
When I picked it up, I felt it shift to one side, and thought it was a nice big chunk of chocolate. My mouth immediately started watering, but I know I can't eat dairy and sadly said, "That's so sweet of them, but I know I won't be able to eat it. It will either be filled with dairy, or wrapped in wheat, or both."
My love looked at me and said, "Oh, I don't think you'll be allergic to this."
I was so excited! That must mean that my love got me a special wheat free, dairy free treat that I could have! And the fact that it was wrapped as a surprise was such a nice touch.
When I opened it up, I was a little shocked to see a box from our jeweler, Gurvin, who made our engagement and wedding rings.
I was just a little confused as to what this could be! I mean, it's a ring box and we don't have any money, so it couldn't possibly be anything expensive.
I slowly opened the box and damn!
It was a diamond encrusted ring that was very similar to my wedding band.
My love had a disclaimer, "Well, this is not your ring. Your ring is still being made. I told Gurvin I need to have it by today, but you know Gurvin ... So, he's lent us this one until yours is finished."
That's our jeweler.
Papi has known him since forever, and he adores my love so much that he would allow Papi to just take a ring out of the many gorgeous rings that would be 'similar' just so that I could open a beautiful gift.
It doesn't really fit well, but left on the inside of my wedding and engagement ring, it will stay put.
So, I decided I'd wear it anyway.
but i mean really! bling-a-ding-ding!! hell ya I'm going to wear it even if it doesn't fit!
After dinner, we went to the beach and had a little sit down to watch the sun set behind the clouds. It wasn't all that warm, so it really was a short stay, but it was just nice to sit with Papi.
We were the fanciest people at the beach.
Papi was so handsome
I felt so special.
It was a beautiful evening with my love, and when we got home, I gave mi esposo the other half of Papi's gift.
Well, mine wasn't as extravagant, but it was fun.
It's called 'Nookii', a game for adults.
I was ready to play, obviously, because I had my coffee, but Papi, looked at me with tired eyes and apologized, "Honey, I'm just so tired, I just can't."
I suppose we'll have to wait another day to play 'Nookii', and give The Love Patrol a chance to do his job.
Regardless, it was a wonderful One Year Wedding Anniversary Extravaganza.
The only bad news was, now that I'm wearing over a karat in diamonds, Papi took my love's engagement ring back saying, "I think it'll be fine for me to wear it now. Nobody will look at it like it's weird, right?"
I almost wanted to lie just to keep the ring.
ummm ... no papi ... men don't wear that kind of ring.
But I didn't. I'll play nice.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Well.
Guess what I'm doing now?
I'm saying, "Fuck it!" and enjoying a mother fucking cup of coffee.
I like coffee and coffee likes me.
Life's too short not to drink coffee.
And besides, Sir Bark-A-Lot kept me up all night because I accidentally left the door open to the upstairs, and Psycho Kitty was meowing down the (My what a wonderful job they did on the carpet) stairs all night.
I didn't know this was the case, I thought Sir Bark-A-Lot was reverting to the days before our training and was just barking willy-nilly for the hell of it. Meanwhile, I kept trying to find things in the middle of the night to throw at the rat bastard chihuahua for interrupting my sleep nonstop.
Then this morning, Papi was sleeping beside me and doing some weird clenching and pushing of my arm thing.
wtf was that?!?!?!
I was awake from that point on.
I had to meet with the rest of the performers for the show today to go over our stage presentation next Saturday, and damn if I wasn't already tired.
Seriously.
I had no sleep, had to get up early-ish and now I have to get ready for our big night out, and I'm drinking a fucking cup of Dominican Republic brew before I kill someone.
Papi and I are celebrating The One Year Wedding Anniversary Extravaganza, and I know it's a few weeks late, but none-the-less, we're getting our festivities on!
Therefore, I had to be up early enough to do my hair. I mean, we all know it's all about my hair.
So there I was, with circles darker than the night cradling my eyes, and a ghost white face to accentuate the black that much more.
fucking chihuahua
I had my healthy breakfast and I packed my healthy lunch which I ate that at the dress rehearsal.
I thought I could make it through by way of my greens giving me a nice energetic kick in the ass, but it didn't work, so fuck it.
I want to enjoy myself with Papi as much as I can today. I mean, my love will be getting up in a different version of 'early'.
My love usually concludes the Graveyard Coma at about 8:45 pm, gets up and leaves 20 minutes later to get to work, and finally comes home and does it all over again.
For our day however, mi esposo will be up at 4:30!
EARLY!!!
So, if we're both going to be dead tired because neither of us got enough sleep, I want the upper hand.
Not to mention the fact that a nice cup of café noir is also like a cup of attitude adjustment.
Yes.
I want to be perky and all smiles when we go out.
I also don't know where we're going, because my love has told me it's a surprise.
ooooooooooh ... i love surprises
All I know is I have to be a fancy femme.
my favourite thing ever!!
So, I thought I'd have my cup of varnish remover, have a chat with 'you', my imaginary friend, and tackle squeezing my ass into my tangerine dress.
papi told me what to wear. i like that.
Oh, imagine that! I started the blog out with 'i want to kill things' and after my tasty cup of blackness, I'm feeling fancy.
I like coffee and coffee likes me.
So, fuck it!
I'm saying, "Fuck it!" and enjoying a mother fucking cup of coffee.
I like coffee and coffee likes me.
Life's too short not to drink coffee.
And besides, Sir Bark-A-Lot kept me up all night because I accidentally left the door open to the upstairs, and Psycho Kitty was meowing down the (My what a wonderful job they did on the carpet) stairs all night.
I didn't know this was the case, I thought Sir Bark-A-Lot was reverting to the days before our training and was just barking willy-nilly for the hell of it. Meanwhile, I kept trying to find things in the middle of the night to throw at the rat bastard chihuahua for interrupting my sleep nonstop.
Then this morning, Papi was sleeping beside me and doing some weird clenching and pushing of my arm thing.
wtf was that?!?!?!
I was awake from that point on.
I had to meet with the rest of the performers for the show today to go over our stage presentation next Saturday, and damn if I wasn't already tired.
Seriously.
I had no sleep, had to get up early-ish and now I have to get ready for our big night out, and I'm drinking a fucking cup of Dominican Republic brew before I kill someone.
Papi and I are celebrating The One Year Wedding Anniversary Extravaganza, and I know it's a few weeks late, but none-the-less, we're getting our festivities on!
Therefore, I had to be up early enough to do my hair. I mean, we all know it's all about my hair.
So there I was, with circles darker than the night cradling my eyes, and a ghost white face to accentuate the black that much more.
fucking chihuahua
I had my healthy breakfast and I packed my healthy lunch which I ate that at the dress rehearsal.
I thought I could make it through by way of my greens giving me a nice energetic kick in the ass, but it didn't work, so fuck it.
I want to enjoy myself with Papi as much as I can today. I mean, my love will be getting up in a different version of 'early'.
My love usually concludes the Graveyard Coma at about 8:45 pm, gets up and leaves 20 minutes later to get to work, and finally comes home and does it all over again.
For our day however, mi esposo will be up at 4:30!
EARLY!!!
So, if we're both going to be dead tired because neither of us got enough sleep, I want the upper hand.
Not to mention the fact that a nice cup of café noir is also like a cup of attitude adjustment.
Yes.
I want to be perky and all smiles when we go out.
I also don't know where we're going, because my love has told me it's a surprise.
ooooooooooh ... i love surprises
All I know is I have to be a fancy femme.
my favourite thing ever!!
So, I thought I'd have my cup of varnish remover, have a chat with 'you', my imaginary friend, and tackle squeezing my ass into my tangerine dress.
papi told me what to wear. i like that.
Oh, imagine that! I started the blog out with 'i want to kill things' and after my tasty cup of blackness, I'm feeling fancy.
I like coffee and coffee likes me.
So, fuck it!
Friday, July 22, 2011
Food cleanse fail.
I buckled and drank coffee. I needed it. I was going to kill someone if I didn't have it. Mind you, I only had one cup and that was 2 days ago. At least I'm still on track with everything else.
You see, I have this problem with anxiety.
It makes me a crazy person.
No matter how hard I try to keep it contained, it just rears it's ugly head and spits venom.
I have 3 shows in 5 days beginning on Tuesday, and the past two days I've really felt the stress of it.
To make matters worse, we all received word that the live artist we booked for the biggest of three events was backing out.
I did really well with understanding her side of it. I remained calm.
Seriously.
If it was Andréa from even 6 years ago, I would have burned a bridge.
not that it wasn't burned when she backed out of a show a week before the gig ...
I want to remain an acquaintance, because she's lovely. But unfortunately, I won't be able to work with her again.
fool me once. period.
She had called me while I was getting something from 'the list' done.
the nagging, scolding, list of impending doom
There I was, trying my best to hem these fucking curtains, while my blood is trying to spew out of my skin from the anxiety that was pumping through my veins.
I need to get busy when I'm a spaz, so curtains it was.
At the same time that I was speaking to the curtains as if they were a living being, ...
just fucking sit still you mother fucking bastards!!! ...
... the phone rang.
I was so happy to see her name on the phone's screen, because there was so much to talk about for the show.
Then she dropped the bomb.
Like I said, I held it together.
When I got off the phone I went back to the curtains. Suddenly, they didn't seem like the enemy. Suddenly they were behaving much better.
My blood calmed and I managed to get them finished and get to my practise on time.
When I returned home with my vocal cords feeling a wee bit strained and my energy level on .25, I realized that my love had said something earlier that upset me, and I had held on to it since the beginning of the day, until I saw Papi's gorgeous face.
It was obvious I was feeling 'something' and being the wonderful spouse that mi esposo is, we talked about it and all was good.
It was then that Papi realized something before me; I'm freaking out about the performances.
It's just like it has always been since I was a little girl getting ready to perform "Day By Day" for my very first piano recital.
i hated that song then and i gag about it even still ... did they know they gave a religious song to a budding agnostic verging on atheist? was this to taunt me?
I am satan spawn for a week before any performance.
to say the least ...
You see, I have this problem with anxiety and I just don't know how to tame it.
I will take suggestions.
You see, I have this problem with anxiety.
It makes me a crazy person.
No matter how hard I try to keep it contained, it just rears it's ugly head and spits venom.
I have 3 shows in 5 days beginning on Tuesday, and the past two days I've really felt the stress of it.
To make matters worse, we all received word that the live artist we booked for the biggest of three events was backing out.
I did really well with understanding her side of it. I remained calm.
Seriously.
If it was Andréa from even 6 years ago, I would have burned a bridge.
not that it wasn't burned when she backed out of a show a week before the gig ...
I want to remain an acquaintance, because she's lovely. But unfortunately, I won't be able to work with her again.
fool me once. period.
She had called me while I was getting something from 'the list' done.
the nagging, scolding, list of impending doom
There I was, trying my best to hem these fucking curtains, while my blood is trying to spew out of my skin from the anxiety that was pumping through my veins.
I need to get busy when I'm a spaz, so curtains it was.
At the same time that I was speaking to the curtains as if they were a living being, ...
just fucking sit still you mother fucking bastards!!! ...
... the phone rang.
I was so happy to see her name on the phone's screen, because there was so much to talk about for the show.
Then she dropped the bomb.
Like I said, I held it together.
When I got off the phone I went back to the curtains. Suddenly, they didn't seem like the enemy. Suddenly they were behaving much better.
My blood calmed and I managed to get them finished and get to my practise on time.
When I returned home with my vocal cords feeling a wee bit strained and my energy level on .25, I realized that my love had said something earlier that upset me, and I had held on to it since the beginning of the day, until I saw Papi's gorgeous face.
It was obvious I was feeling 'something' and being the wonderful spouse that mi esposo is, we talked about it and all was good.
It was then that Papi realized something before me; I'm freaking out about the performances.
It's just like it has always been since I was a little girl getting ready to perform "Day By Day" for my very first piano recital.
i hated that song then and i gag about it even still ... did they know they gave a religious song to a budding agnostic verging on atheist? was this to taunt me?
I am satan spawn for a week before any performance.
to say the least ...
You see, I have this problem with anxiety and I just don't know how to tame it.
I will take suggestions.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Oh ... so ...
... hungry.
My body isn't quite back on track on my food cleanse. I went crazy the last few years after my accident eating every food I'm allergic to ...
except dairy ... I just can't damage myself for that one ...
... and finally, my body told me to cut it out.
So I did.
But the caffeine, sugar and carb withdrawal is brutal.
And I'm bitchy.
Over the top 'I can't handle it' bitchy.
I have to do the 'breathing' thing to make sure I don't verbally abuse the G'ma.
who incessantly talks about how bad the attic stairs are, how she can't turn the tv on and the bird seed needing to be removed ...
It always starts like this:
please use your best old lady voice in your head to make sure you get the full effect
G'ma watches me come up or down our dungeon stairs and says, "My they really did a great job with the carpet on your stairs. Why can't we put that carpet on the stairs going up?"
Every fucking time.
I've tried to explain that my brain injury doesn't work well with narrow stairs and how I fell down them a few times because the carpet didn't hold my unstable footing. I've tried saying, "If you don't like the look of them, don't look."
Oh, I've tried everything.
Today?
As soon as she got as far as, "My they really did a great job with the carpet on your stairs. Why can't we ..."
I gave her the hand, then, "I don't want to hear it."
She kept trying with, "But," and I kept the hand up saying, "No. I don't want to hear about the carpet every day. It's not going up and if you don't like it don't look."
"But," and the hand came up again. Then the old bird laughed, "I'll try not to say anymore about the stairs."
It was a nice gesture, but I know that it will only last 10 minutes.
Regardless, my cranky 'I'm so hungry' moment got a little overheated and I was thinking I did really well with Papi yesterday when I was off work and ready to keel over from starvation.
There stood my love with only boxers on and a camera in hand as soon as I came down those 'My they really did a great job with the carpet' stairs.
As I walked past my love I asked, "What's this all about?" in regards to my au naturel esposo.
I need you to take pictures of the 'after' pictures for the clinic.
the papirazzi is ready for their action shots!
Papi stood proudly, exposing The Great Breast Disappearance, and I snapped pictures with every shading of flash I could find via it's adjustments.
Again I was surprised.
My love and I giggled through the process and I didn't have any moments where my hair stood on end with the ouch factor looking at the still pink scars.
I'm coming along.
I think what I'm realizing is that because my love is going through the changes with me, I'm ok, because Papi is still here by my side.
I know I wouldn't do this again, because I wouldn't do this for just anyone.
Only my soul mate.
This is an amazing person who wants the world to know that **enter pronoun here** not slut-phobic and that **enter pronoun here** loves sluts.
Papi likes sluts.
There ya go Papi.
I fixed it for you.
My body isn't quite back on track on my food cleanse. I went crazy the last few years after my accident eating every food I'm allergic to ...
except dairy ... I just can't damage myself for that one ...
... and finally, my body told me to cut it out.
So I did.
But the caffeine, sugar and carb withdrawal is brutal.
And I'm bitchy.
Over the top 'I can't handle it' bitchy.
I have to do the 'breathing' thing to make sure I don't verbally abuse the G'ma.
who incessantly talks about how bad the attic stairs are, how she can't turn the tv on and the bird seed needing to be removed ...
It always starts like this:
please use your best old lady voice in your head to make sure you get the full effect
G'ma watches me come up or down our dungeon stairs and says, "My they really did a great job with the carpet on your stairs. Why can't we put that carpet on the stairs going up?"
Every fucking time.
I've tried to explain that my brain injury doesn't work well with narrow stairs and how I fell down them a few times because the carpet didn't hold my unstable footing. I've tried saying, "If you don't like the look of them, don't look."
Oh, I've tried everything.
Today?
As soon as she got as far as, "My they really did a great job with the carpet on your stairs. Why can't we ..."
I gave her the hand, then, "I don't want to hear it."
She kept trying with, "But," and I kept the hand up saying, "No. I don't want to hear about the carpet every day. It's not going up and if you don't like it don't look."
"But," and the hand came up again. Then the old bird laughed, "I'll try not to say anymore about the stairs."
It was a nice gesture, but I know that it will only last 10 minutes.
Regardless, my cranky 'I'm so hungry' moment got a little overheated and I was thinking I did really well with Papi yesterday when I was off work and ready to keel over from starvation.
There stood my love with only boxers on and a camera in hand as soon as I came down those 'My they really did a great job with the carpet' stairs.
As I walked past my love I asked, "What's this all about?" in regards to my au naturel esposo.
I need you to take pictures of the 'after' pictures for the clinic.
the papirazzi is ready for their action shots!
Papi stood proudly, exposing The Great Breast Disappearance, and I snapped pictures with every shading of flash I could find via it's adjustments.
Again I was surprised.
My love and I giggled through the process and I didn't have any moments where my hair stood on end with the ouch factor looking at the still pink scars.
I'm coming along.
I think what I'm realizing is that because my love is going through the changes with me, I'm ok, because Papi is still here by my side.
I know I wouldn't do this again, because I wouldn't do this for just anyone.
Only my soul mate.
This is an amazing person who wants the world to know that **enter pronoun here** not slut-phobic and that **enter pronoun here** loves sluts.
Papi likes sluts.
There ya go Papi.
I fixed it for you.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
warning: rant.
Every morning, I look like a shaman blessing the air with a tea towel.
Do you have one of those fire alarms that goes off when you make toast?
If you do, then you know what I'm talking about. While my 2 eggs cook in my miniature iron pan, I wander around waving a blue and white terry cloth.
sans caffeine for 2 weeks **sobs** ... i'm on a food cleanse ... ouch
All I know is, if there is the remote fear of a fire, we're good. However, that doesn't count emotional ones.
You know, since Papi and I have both been blessed with the Brace Face, there's not too much heavy kissing going on. I guess that's why I dreamed that Papi and I are making out the same way we did before the bomb was dropped and I cried sitting in a La-Z-Boy for 6 weeks.
Then when the braces came, well yeah, the kisses are little pecks most of the time.
It was nice to wake up to a dream about nookie with Papi.
One of the last things my love said to me last night before I dozed off into my sexy time coma was, "Honey, can you please not roll your eyes every time I talk about someone who's become an F-M?"
I knew this was going to be conveyed, because while the Americans were invading our house, there was another outing of another F-M, and I, in all my opinionated glory, rolled my eyes.
I know that most people who go through the male transformation really are transgendered, however I fear for the young bucks who feel like they'd fit in better if they joined the crowd.
I have spoken about this before, but I really do think that when you're 18/19/20, you just don't have the life experience to figure out who you are.
And is there something so wrong with being a minority within a minority?
No.
Butches are beautiful.
Butches are special.
Butches are becoming an endangered species.
I just need to know that there will be some butches left for the femmes who adore them.
So yeah, when I hear of another butch being pricked by the needle with poison, going through modern day mutilation, and asking the world to change their personal pronoun ...
... leaving all of us stuttering while trying our best not to insult ...
... I roll my eyes.
another one bites the dust.
Yet, I am hurting my love's feelings when I show my disdain. So it will now have to be curbed and kept for my inside voice, until I am with the femmes on my Trust List who are also feeling the pinch of our butches leaving us.
One of my Blogger Friends, Tricia, made a great point. That when breasts are removed, so is the tact.
Yesterday, Papi called that 'murdering tot mom' ...
... no need to put a name here ... we all know who i'm talking about ...
... a slut.
My Trust List Yank and I looked at each other a little shocked, and from out of the Yank's mouth came, "You sound a bit slut-phobic."
There was laughter, but it just sounded odd coming from Papi who back-stepped saying, "I'm not, I really don't care, I'm just saying ..."
It's interesting, because it seemed like Papi no longer was allowed to call a woman a name, because mi esposo has denounced all ties to femininity.
Sorry my love.
You will be getting flack for speaking like a guy now.
Do you have one of those fire alarms that goes off when you make toast?
If you do, then you know what I'm talking about. While my 2 eggs cook in my miniature iron pan, I wander around waving a blue and white terry cloth.
sans caffeine for 2 weeks **sobs** ... i'm on a food cleanse ... ouch
All I know is, if there is the remote fear of a fire, we're good. However, that doesn't count emotional ones.
You know, since Papi and I have both been blessed with the Brace Face, there's not too much heavy kissing going on. I guess that's why I dreamed that Papi and I are making out the same way we did before the bomb was dropped and I cried sitting in a La-Z-Boy for 6 weeks.
Then when the braces came, well yeah, the kisses are little pecks most of the time.
It was nice to wake up to a dream about nookie with Papi.
One of the last things my love said to me last night before I dozed off into my sexy time coma was, "Honey, can you please not roll your eyes every time I talk about someone who's become an F-M?"
I knew this was going to be conveyed, because while the Americans were invading our house, there was another outing of another F-M, and I, in all my opinionated glory, rolled my eyes.
I know that most people who go through the male transformation really are transgendered, however I fear for the young bucks who feel like they'd fit in better if they joined the crowd.
I have spoken about this before, but I really do think that when you're 18/19/20, you just don't have the life experience to figure out who you are.
And is there something so wrong with being a minority within a minority?
No.
Butches are beautiful.
Butches are special.
Butches are becoming an endangered species.
I just need to know that there will be some butches left for the femmes who adore them.
So yeah, when I hear of another butch being pricked by the needle with poison, going through modern day mutilation, and asking the world to change their personal pronoun ...
... leaving all of us stuttering while trying our best not to insult ...
... I roll my eyes.
another one bites the dust.
Yet, I am hurting my love's feelings when I show my disdain. So it will now have to be curbed and kept for my inside voice, until I am with the femmes on my Trust List who are also feeling the pinch of our butches leaving us.
One of my Blogger Friends, Tricia, made a great point. That when breasts are removed, so is the tact.
Yesterday, Papi called that 'murdering tot mom' ...
... no need to put a name here ... we all know who i'm talking about ...
... a slut.
My Trust List Yank and I looked at each other a little shocked, and from out of the Yank's mouth came, "You sound a bit slut-phobic."
There was laughter, but it just sounded odd coming from Papi who back-stepped saying, "I'm not, I really don't care, I'm just saying ..."
It's interesting, because it seemed like Papi no longer was allowed to call a woman a name, because mi esposo has denounced all ties to femininity.
Sorry my love.
You will be getting flack for speaking like a guy now.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Papi's Dog House
She said, "Your eye prescription has changed, but not by that much. If we change the prescription on your glasses and contacts, then you won't have the proper near vision. You won't even be able to see your phone apps."
So, my Dr. and I left it at that and I took her suggestion to remove my glasses when I want to read or see things up close.
This will pose a bit of trouble when I have my contact lens in ...
which is almost always ...
... but I'll just deal.
because we must suffer for our pretty femme-ness
Later today, Papi came up to me and with a perturbed attitude said, "I can't believe you can't see the hair on my sideburns! You have to be lying!"
Then I did as my optometrist suggested and removed my glasses to get an up close look.
"Ah. Ok. Now I see them."
There they were. 8 coarse little dark hairs that just shouldn't be there, and they were definitely the beginnings of a sideburn!
crap i can't pretend anymore ...
Alas, now my love will be sportin' the 'burns.
And the mole hair that I thought I saw, well it was that there's more hair on the other side. That one had a few more in a close area to the mole, granting me the previous day of denial.
The hair conversation continued while were at dinner, when my love told me that indeed, the only place that is desired is the soul patch and it's the only place it's not growing.
We spoke about shaving, my usual dislike of it, and about my lack of doing the deed. "I can't even keep up with my arm pit hair. Every time I turn around I have to shave again. Why on earth would you want to have that crap on your face and have to deal with it all the time?!?"
My love was rubbing the very outside of the chin. That same place where the little critters stick out in the wrong places and said, "Well, it's only right here that I'm getting it, and it's grey! I can't stand the grey!"
Well, I like grey hair and said so, adding, "You can just get that 'Hair for Men' stuff then."
"Yeah and I'll have to get my head done too! I looked in the mirror and realized I have twice as much grey as before!"
stress'll do it to ya!
My love and I are 8 years age difference, but it doesn't really matter. Yet my love spurted out, "With all this grey I look as old as you!"
ummmmm ... pardon?!??!
Oh no my love, you didn't!
The look on my love's face, after I threw a fresh bomb of the stink eye, told me Papi clearly understood that there was going to be trouble for that one.
My retort, "Yeah, but I already look younger than your actual age is so it's fine. You can look like the older one."
My love paused.
I did not appreciate the lapse of time and said so, "You paused!! What the fuck!? You know I look younger than I am! Everyone is always shocked when I tell them how old I am!"
Again, Papi recognized the look I gave as danger. "Well, it's just that I already know how old you are so I can't be objective."
small save my love, small save ...
There will be some dog house days for this I can promise you.
Papi had a male moment.
Perhaps there is a guy hanging out in there somewhere?
So, my Dr. and I left it at that and I took her suggestion to remove my glasses when I want to read or see things up close.
This will pose a bit of trouble when I have my contact lens in ...
which is almost always ...
... but I'll just deal.
because we must suffer for our pretty femme-ness
Later today, Papi came up to me and with a perturbed attitude said, "I can't believe you can't see the hair on my sideburns! You have to be lying!"
Then I did as my optometrist suggested and removed my glasses to get an up close look.
"Ah. Ok. Now I see them."
There they were. 8 coarse little dark hairs that just shouldn't be there, and they were definitely the beginnings of a sideburn!
crap i can't pretend anymore ...
Alas, now my love will be sportin' the 'burns.
And the mole hair that I thought I saw, well it was that there's more hair on the other side. That one had a few more in a close area to the mole, granting me the previous day of denial.
The hair conversation continued while were at dinner, when my love told me that indeed, the only place that is desired is the soul patch and it's the only place it's not growing.
We spoke about shaving, my usual dislike of it, and about my lack of doing the deed. "I can't even keep up with my arm pit hair. Every time I turn around I have to shave again. Why on earth would you want to have that crap on your face and have to deal with it all the time?!?"
My love was rubbing the very outside of the chin. That same place where the little critters stick out in the wrong places and said, "Well, it's only right here that I'm getting it, and it's grey! I can't stand the grey!"
Well, I like grey hair and said so, adding, "You can just get that 'Hair for Men' stuff then."
"Yeah and I'll have to get my head done too! I looked in the mirror and realized I have twice as much grey as before!"
stress'll do it to ya!
My love and I are 8 years age difference, but it doesn't really matter. Yet my love spurted out, "With all this grey I look as old as you!"
ummmmm ... pardon?!??!
Oh no my love, you didn't!
The look on my love's face, after I threw a fresh bomb of the stink eye, told me Papi clearly understood that there was going to be trouble for that one.
My retort, "Yeah, but I already look younger than your actual age is so it's fine. You can look like the older one."
My love paused.
I did not appreciate the lapse of time and said so, "You paused!! What the fuck!? You know I look younger than I am! Everyone is always shocked when I tell them how old I am!"
Again, Papi recognized the look I gave as danger. "Well, it's just that I already know how old you are so I can't be objective."
small save my love, small save ...
There will be some dog house days for this I can promise you.
Papi had a male moment.
Perhaps there is a guy hanging out in there somewhere?
Saturday, July 16, 2011
politics, politics
Our home has been invaded by Americans!!!!
And it's nice to have them. Especially when one of them is on your Trust List, and the other is an honorary Trust List newbie as of last night.
I see myself as transphobic a lot. I assume this is because I have adverse feelings about my love's male transformation.
I'm reminded time and again that there are other people out there who would feel the same way if their love decided to switch camps.
It was really nice to be understood last night. I forget that when I'm overwhelmed with feelings about the transformation that I have people to go to.
time for a trust list pow-wow i think!
It was not a berating of F-Ms. It was an honest 'this is my opinion' or 'this is my feeling' or 'this is my veiwpoint' bull session.
We went from the slip of a pronoun to me making my claim again, "I can't call E a male, because all I will ever see is my butch," to "the M-Fs who want to be at the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival don't want to come to bond with women, they only want to make their politics loud."
Women's spaces are a touchy subject in our community. For many reasons. The Yanks told me about some F-Ms who will go as 'she' to this Festival just so that they can find the femmes and get laid.
Yes.
There is a reason it's a touchy subject.
When Papi and I go to play parties, there have been numerous occasions where we will engage in sexy time.
hey, what can i say, i'm an exhibitionist.
I only feel safe to do so if there are women in the room.
Just like the times I would partake in the art of stripping for our yearly women's strip show, Diva's Den.
In front of women, I am free to be and do whatever and whomever I want.
However, this year, the organizers started allowing bio-males into the play party. I understand. It's a business, but it certainly put the halt on my sexual escapades.
I am completely uncomfortable with anything to do with sex around bio-males.
I imagine this is because of issues from my childhood.
duh!
Regardless, I just don't feel comfortable.
This is where it gets messy.
I know F-Ms want to be seen as male, and to the general straight community, they are. Yet to me, I can spot one pretty fast and all I see is an F-M. Not a male.
I feel bad for this the moment I see them as such, because they want to be seen as male, but you can't hide those female eyes and female interactions.
You won't see an F-M pissing on a wall in front of a femme who is saying, "Really buddy?!? Do ya have to do this right here? There's a washroom right inside the hospital!!"
This bio-male told me to, "Fuck off," and continued wagging his willy right in front of my bus and the clients.
No, this is not the action of an F-M.
This is because an F-M is still a third gender. They are neither.
I only wish my love could be comfortable as such, and not feel the need to swing the pendulum to the other side of male-ness.
dream on hard on
Anyway, this rant was a leftover from my Trust List and honorary Trust List newbie.
It felt good to be understood and told, "No. You're not transphobic. You have a certain taste of what you find attractive."
One more little stone to build my wall of strength.
And it's nice to have them. Especially when one of them is on your Trust List, and the other is an honorary Trust List newbie as of last night.
I see myself as transphobic a lot. I assume this is because I have adverse feelings about my love's male transformation.
I'm reminded time and again that there are other people out there who would feel the same way if their love decided to switch camps.
It was really nice to be understood last night. I forget that when I'm overwhelmed with feelings about the transformation that I have people to go to.
time for a trust list pow-wow i think!
It was not a berating of F-Ms. It was an honest 'this is my opinion' or 'this is my feeling' or 'this is my veiwpoint' bull session.
We went from the slip of a pronoun to me making my claim again, "I can't call E a male, because all I will ever see is my butch," to "the M-Fs who want to be at the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival don't want to come to bond with women, they only want to make their politics loud."
Women's spaces are a touchy subject in our community. For many reasons. The Yanks told me about some F-Ms who will go as 'she' to this Festival just so that they can find the femmes and get laid.
Yes.
There is a reason it's a touchy subject.
When Papi and I go to play parties, there have been numerous occasions where we will engage in sexy time.
hey, what can i say, i'm an exhibitionist.
I only feel safe to do so if there are women in the room.
Just like the times I would partake in the art of stripping for our yearly women's strip show, Diva's Den.
In front of women, I am free to be and do whatever and whomever I want.
However, this year, the organizers started allowing bio-males into the play party. I understand. It's a business, but it certainly put the halt on my sexual escapades.
I am completely uncomfortable with anything to do with sex around bio-males.
I imagine this is because of issues from my childhood.
duh!
Regardless, I just don't feel comfortable.
This is where it gets messy.
I know F-Ms want to be seen as male, and to the general straight community, they are. Yet to me, I can spot one pretty fast and all I see is an F-M. Not a male.
I feel bad for this the moment I see them as such, because they want to be seen as male, but you can't hide those female eyes and female interactions.
You won't see an F-M pissing on a wall in front of a femme who is saying, "Really buddy?!? Do ya have to do this right here? There's a washroom right inside the hospital!!"
This bio-male told me to, "Fuck off," and continued wagging his willy right in front of my bus and the clients.
No, this is not the action of an F-M.
This is because an F-M is still a third gender. They are neither.
I only wish my love could be comfortable as such, and not feel the need to swing the pendulum to the other side of male-ness.
dream on hard on
Anyway, this rant was a leftover from my Trust List and honorary Trust List newbie.
It felt good to be understood and told, "No. You're not transphobic. You have a certain taste of what you find attractive."
One more little stone to build my wall of strength.
Friday, July 15, 2011
The Princess and the 'T'
"Honey guess what I'm getting?!?"
i'm afraid to ask ... so i won't
"I'm getting sideburns!" Papi said and jumped onto the bed.
I honestly looked with all the bleary eyed vision I could, but I didn't see anything. Then Papi continued, "You'll have to get a magnifying glass to see it but it's there!!!"
I rolled my eyes and laughed at my love, and I was immediately reproached, "Don't try to say you can't see it! Don't lie! Honey can you see it?!?"
I finally spoke, "All I see is mole hair."
"HONEY!!!!" Papi yelled and the bed seemed to be having it's very own earthquake as mi esposo crawled up close as possible to be sure there was a cheek stuffed right in my face. Even Sir Bark-A-Lot felt the fear and his eyes widened in fear of the possibility of a giant human trampling him.
No.
I didn't see it, but all of a sudden, Papi was at an angle that enabled me to see something else. My eyes must have bugged out of my head, because my love could tell what I was looking at.
"Yeah! See! Under my chin, I've got more hair!!"
Indeed. There was more hair under my love's chin. Coarse, black hair that was definitely the beginning of my fear of the beard.
I couldn't deny this one. There was definitely hair there, "Yeah, I see it," I said with not as much enthusiasm as my love wished for.
I just can't be happy for it.
Shaggy, stubly, smelly, dirty beard hair is not on my list of 'likes'. We all know that by now.
My love only wants a soul patch, and it seems that's where it's not growing.
i still don't see the sideburns
A soul patch is much different than a full on man hair beard.
I get reports daily about the various people that will either call my love a girl or a boy. It was the same before all the poisons started being injected into my love's body.
I still don't like the hormones.
I still don't like that stuff careening through Papi's blood.
I still have moments where I feel like bargaining.
I guess this means I'm still not past the 5 stages of grief. I'm definitely in a better place than I was in December, but damn!!! I have yet to find utter peace at the end of the path.
rainbows and puppy dogs and my butch back in my arms ...
I know that everyone who has followed my journey says I'm doing well, moving fast, being strong, but I just don't know if I will ever be out of denial.
all i see is my butch
I still don't have pronouns down, and I'm not sure as to when I will.
Well, other than when we get to the Dominican Republic. I'll be speaking in Spanish, so I will be using the proper pronouns there.
But here?
Nope.
I just keep repeating my love's name. I sound like a teen who can't stop talking about her first true love.
And I'll tell you, saying Papi's name over and over, in front of every sentence, non-stop is a bit aggravating to me, so I can't imagine how annoying it must be to others!
None-the-less, I continue to work through this.
My bargaining stage flows in and out, and I never speak it out loud. I just think it, "Maybe you could just be without breasts and forget about this male transformation thing as a whole."
No.
I never say it out loud. I just imagine it.
I envision my love saying, "These hormones aren't giving me a soul patch that I want so there's no point in being on them anymore."
i am a princess in a fairy tale land ...
i'm afraid to ask ... so i won't
"I'm getting sideburns!" Papi said and jumped onto the bed.
I honestly looked with all the bleary eyed vision I could, but I didn't see anything. Then Papi continued, "You'll have to get a magnifying glass to see it but it's there!!!"
I rolled my eyes and laughed at my love, and I was immediately reproached, "Don't try to say you can't see it! Don't lie! Honey can you see it?!?"
I finally spoke, "All I see is mole hair."
"HONEY!!!!" Papi yelled and the bed seemed to be having it's very own earthquake as mi esposo crawled up close as possible to be sure there was a cheek stuffed right in my face. Even Sir Bark-A-Lot felt the fear and his eyes widened in fear of the possibility of a giant human trampling him.
No.
I didn't see it, but all of a sudden, Papi was at an angle that enabled me to see something else. My eyes must have bugged out of my head, because my love could tell what I was looking at.
"Yeah! See! Under my chin, I've got more hair!!"
Indeed. There was more hair under my love's chin. Coarse, black hair that was definitely the beginning of my fear of the beard.
I couldn't deny this one. There was definitely hair there, "Yeah, I see it," I said with not as much enthusiasm as my love wished for.
I just can't be happy for it.
Shaggy, stubly, smelly, dirty beard hair is not on my list of 'likes'. We all know that by now.
My love only wants a soul patch, and it seems that's where it's not growing.
i still don't see the sideburns
A soul patch is much different than a full on man hair beard.
I get reports daily about the various people that will either call my love a girl or a boy. It was the same before all the poisons started being injected into my love's body.
I still don't like the hormones.
I still don't like that stuff careening through Papi's blood.
I still have moments where I feel like bargaining.
I guess this means I'm still not past the 5 stages of grief. I'm definitely in a better place than I was in December, but damn!!! I have yet to find utter peace at the end of the path.
rainbows and puppy dogs and my butch back in my arms ...
I know that everyone who has followed my journey says I'm doing well, moving fast, being strong, but I just don't know if I will ever be out of denial.
all i see is my butch
I still don't have pronouns down, and I'm not sure as to when I will.
Well, other than when we get to the Dominican Republic. I'll be speaking in Spanish, so I will be using the proper pronouns there.
But here?
Nope.
I just keep repeating my love's name. I sound like a teen who can't stop talking about her first true love.
And I'll tell you, saying Papi's name over and over, in front of every sentence, non-stop is a bit aggravating to me, so I can't imagine how annoying it must be to others!
None-the-less, I continue to work through this.
My bargaining stage flows in and out, and I never speak it out loud. I just think it, "Maybe you could just be without breasts and forget about this male transformation thing as a whole."
No.
I never say it out loud. I just imagine it.
I envision my love saying, "These hormones aren't giving me a soul patch that I want so there's no point in being on them anymore."
i am a princess in a fairy tale land ...
Thursday, July 14, 2011
You suck old man sweaty balls.
Dearest gentlemen who read my blog:
Thank you for being gentlemen.
And to the dreg of the earth, 50 year old virgin, living in your parents' basement, satan spawn who reads my blog to jack off to:
Fuck off.
Well, the time has come to take options for 'anonymous' comments off my page, since a creep wrote a gross comment yesterday, which I'm sure was supposed to be some kind of (ummmm?) compliment?
dude ... there's a reason you're still a virgin ... you really need to work on your pick up lines
If you read anonymously, know that you can always email me if you'd like to say something that now can't be posted here on my blog.
at least there i can block scum.
Just because I speak candidly about my sexuality doesn't mean I'm writing for filth to get off on.
And seriously?
To read my ranting, whining, moaning about my flu seems like the entry to write your crud?
Wow.
I'll be sure not to moan about flus and colds from now on if that brings out the waste of the world.
ok but really! my fever went up to 99.8!! c'mon! it was awful! oooh ... does that turn you on?
This slimeball wouldn't even know what to do with a lesbian in bed.
I remember when one of my dyke friends decided they'd sleep with a guy to see what it was like. Her review?
"It was quick and painless."
Exactly.
Poor Papi. My love got really upset about the excrement that was smeared on the walls of my comments. Mi esposo has a bit of trouble keeping calm when someone disrespects me.
Papi got all up in a tizzy when I got into a fight with a guy on the road. He was driving like an idiot and cut me off.
I pulled up beside him to speak my mind and the next thing you know, Papi was getting out of the car to fight.
Ok.
So, that would seem like a typical thing for a man to do, and the guy yelled something like, "I'll fuck you up boy!"
What this slime didn't know was that this was only a week after my love got back from the top surgery and couldn't even lift a hand, never mind an arm to swing.
me thinks i would've had to do the fighting that day!!!
Anyway, my love wanted to climb through the computer screen when Papi read the turd that was left in my toilet.
Ah, Papi, thank you for defending your femme.
And you know, your 5 Foot Clitoris is much bigger than this guy's penis.
I promise you.
Thank you for being gentlemen.
And to the dreg of the earth, 50 year old virgin, living in your parents' basement, satan spawn who reads my blog to jack off to:
Fuck off.
Well, the time has come to take options for 'anonymous' comments off my page, since a creep wrote a gross comment yesterday, which I'm sure was supposed to be some kind of (ummmm?) compliment?
dude ... there's a reason you're still a virgin ... you really need to work on your pick up lines
If you read anonymously, know that you can always email me if you'd like to say something that now can't be posted here on my blog.
at least there i can block scum.
Just because I speak candidly about my sexuality doesn't mean I'm writing for filth to get off on.
And seriously?
To read my ranting, whining, moaning about my flu seems like the entry to write your crud?
Wow.
I'll be sure not to moan about flus and colds from now on if that brings out the waste of the world.
ok but really! my fever went up to 99.8!! c'mon! it was awful! oooh ... does that turn you on?
This slimeball wouldn't even know what to do with a lesbian in bed.
I remember when one of my dyke friends decided they'd sleep with a guy to see what it was like. Her review?
"It was quick and painless."
Exactly.
Poor Papi. My love got really upset about the excrement that was smeared on the walls of my comments. Mi esposo has a bit of trouble keeping calm when someone disrespects me.
Papi got all up in a tizzy when I got into a fight with a guy on the road. He was driving like an idiot and cut me off.
I pulled up beside him to speak my mind and the next thing you know, Papi was getting out of the car to fight.
Ok.
So, that would seem like a typical thing for a man to do, and the guy yelled something like, "I'll fuck you up boy!"
What this slime didn't know was that this was only a week after my love got back from the top surgery and couldn't even lift a hand, never mind an arm to swing.
me thinks i would've had to do the fighting that day!!!
Anyway, my love wanted to climb through the computer screen when Papi read the turd that was left in my toilet.
Ah, Papi, thank you for defending your femme.
And you know, your 5 Foot Clitoris is much bigger than this guy's penis.
I promise you.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Flying Chihuahuas
I loaded the dishwasher.
That put my fever back up to 98.9. Papi laughs at me about the fever thing, but damn! I have low body temperature as my 'normal', so my 98.9 is like someone else's 101.
Anyway, suffice to say, I won't be dancing around the basement suite yet.
However, there is one thing that I really need to do today, and this reminder was given to me through a Blogger Friend, Jess, who had a close call on the road yesterday.
She was asking if anyone had a close call to death, and what it was. Of course, my motorcycle accident was pretty bad, but somehow, I managed to get out of it alive.
For my day job, HandyDart, we drive people who have had way less of an accident and they never walk again.
Somehow, I was spared, instead of breaking my neck when I landed on my head.
Mind you, it took me over a year to rewire my brain for walking, amongst other things.
Anyway, when Jess asked about anyone else having a close call, I chatted to her a bit about mine.
She asked if I'd like to share it on her blog as a guest writer and I was thrilled!
I'm currently writing a novel, and chapter 7 was about the actual accident, and was also the first passage written.
I passed it on to her to take excerpts etc., and while I was looking through the folder with all my writings, I realized I basically have an entire novel written, I just have to fill in the spaces.
If it weren't for my Blogger Friend, I would be mucking about on the computer achieving fuck all in my current state of 'ick'.
I will let you know when it is appearing on her blog, but for now, I'm just so happy that I have a bit of a brain today to type, and the reminder to do so.
I'll have to make sure I re-read everything I put down in black 'n white on another day, because we all know a fever doesn't give us the best brain function.
For instance, 2 days ago, I wrote that Papi and I would be celebrating mid-August. I was so delirious that my mid-July plan with my love seemed so far away that I typed it as such.
No, we don't have to wait that long for a hang out.
i get to listen to papi breath heavily while sleeping 18 hours a day right now ...
We will have our hang out on July 23rd for The One Year Wedding Anniversary Extravaganza!
Anyway, today I will write while I laugh at something that is funny yet not so funny.
You know? When it's really not good to laugh at someone's pain, but you can't stifle the giggle?
While my love is in never never land sleeping off whatever virus is attacking, I'm dealing with the chihuahua trying to steal my pillow.
I give this little critter a flick on his ass, and off he runs.
However ...
The closest place to run away from the evil flick, is to run across Papi's chest.
Every time Sir Bark-A-Lot runs across Papi's still raw, yet healing flat chest, my love does the funky chicken, arms flailing, sending the chihuahua flying across the bed. Then, mi esposo simply rolls over and goes back to the heavy breathing.
Enter: the confused look on Sir Bark-A-Lot's face, "What just happened? I was there and now I'm here."
It happens quite frequently and I can't help but giggle at Papi's unconscious thrashing and Sir Bark-A-Lot's spur of the moment flight through the air.
Yeah.
This is my entertainment.
I ran out of Jon Stewart.
That put my fever back up to 98.9. Papi laughs at me about the fever thing, but damn! I have low body temperature as my 'normal', so my 98.9 is like someone else's 101.
Anyway, suffice to say, I won't be dancing around the basement suite yet.
However, there is one thing that I really need to do today, and this reminder was given to me through a Blogger Friend, Jess, who had a close call on the road yesterday.
She was asking if anyone had a close call to death, and what it was. Of course, my motorcycle accident was pretty bad, but somehow, I managed to get out of it alive.
For my day job, HandyDart, we drive people who have had way less of an accident and they never walk again.
Somehow, I was spared, instead of breaking my neck when I landed on my head.
Mind you, it took me over a year to rewire my brain for walking, amongst other things.
Anyway, when Jess asked about anyone else having a close call, I chatted to her a bit about mine.
She asked if I'd like to share it on her blog as a guest writer and I was thrilled!
I'm currently writing a novel, and chapter 7 was about the actual accident, and was also the first passage written.
I passed it on to her to take excerpts etc., and while I was looking through the folder with all my writings, I realized I basically have an entire novel written, I just have to fill in the spaces.
If it weren't for my Blogger Friend, I would be mucking about on the computer achieving fuck all in my current state of 'ick'.
I will let you know when it is appearing on her blog, but for now, I'm just so happy that I have a bit of a brain today to type, and the reminder to do so.
I'll have to make sure I re-read everything I put down in black 'n white on another day, because we all know a fever doesn't give us the best brain function.
For instance, 2 days ago, I wrote that Papi and I would be celebrating mid-August. I was so delirious that my mid-July plan with my love seemed so far away that I typed it as such.
No, we don't have to wait that long for a hang out.
i get to listen to papi breath heavily while sleeping 18 hours a day right now ...
We will have our hang out on July 23rd for The One Year Wedding Anniversary Extravaganza!
Anyway, today I will write while I laugh at something that is funny yet not so funny.
You know? When it's really not good to laugh at someone's pain, but you can't stifle the giggle?
While my love is in never never land sleeping off whatever virus is attacking, I'm dealing with the chihuahua trying to steal my pillow.
I give this little critter a flick on his ass, and off he runs.
However ...
The closest place to run away from the evil flick, is to run across Papi's chest.
Every time Sir Bark-A-Lot runs across Papi's still raw, yet healing flat chest, my love does the funky chicken, arms flailing, sending the chihuahua flying across the bed. Then, mi esposo simply rolls over and goes back to the heavy breathing.
Enter: the confused look on Sir Bark-A-Lot's face, "What just happened? I was there and now I'm here."
It happens quite frequently and I can't help but giggle at Papi's unconscious thrashing and Sir Bark-A-Lot's spur of the moment flight through the air.
Yeah.
This is my entertainment.
I ran out of Jon Stewart.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
All I need ...
Well, it looks like I may have passed on the flu to Papi.
I was wondering why there was a sleep session going on for 15 hours beside me. Of course I wasn't sleeping, because I was too busy trying to swallow saliva between coughs.
the razors in my throat!!!!!
My love just called in sick.
I just wanted my love to take care of me, but that's not going to happen. Perhaps Papi is getting me back for when I was supposed to be that caretaker, but didn't live up to my love's standards?
Perhaps.
Karma.
I seem to receive my karma pretty fast, which is good. You don't want it lurking, waiting to pounce, or you will get startled.
No, I will not be pampered, but I do think I have everything I need beside me:
~ an aging fruit smoothie that just doesn't look as appetizing as when it was first made
~ left over ginger tea from the day before that buurrrns as it goes down for the masochist in me
~ water that really doesn't taste good when you're sick, but we're told to drink it
~ Vitamin C tabs that are seriously not going to work once the flu has set in
~ a thermometer to check my temperature, in the off chance that I just may be dying and need to go to the hospital
~ sugary not-in-the-food-plan-at-all Halls cough drops with syrup centre that will give me zits
~ sugary not-in-the-food-plan-at-all throat numbing spray that now doesn't spray, because the sugar has congealed, so it just rolls down my fingers and out the side of my mouth that will contribute to the zit-fest that I now have to look forward to
~ kleenex for rubbing my nose so raw I will look like Rudolph by tomorrow
~ rice crackers and almond butter for when I just can't take the hunger anymore
~ both my cell phone and the land line in case I need to call someone to whine, because Papi has already heard it all
~ my oh-so-easy crossword puzzle that makes me feel smart because I can finish them without cheating
~ the book I'm reading, from The Magaic of Xanth about dragons and magic that proves my membership in the nerd club
~ the entire Fuzzy Family on the bed to make sure I starfish when I'm lying down flat
~ earplugs to drown out the snore of Sir Bark-A-Lot
~ and of course, Papi.
However, I'm now being told I need to gargle with salt water again. Am I the only one that gags when I do this?
Seriously!
I try so hard to gargle and I just about puke every time. I have very sensitive gag reflexes. I gag when I brush my teeth for fucks sakes, so gargling is not my thing.
The suckiest part of all this, is I've used up all my sick days from my back being a bitch, so now I'm not being paid. It brings back memories of when I was self employed; no paid sick days period!
The upside to all of this, is I'm behind on my Jon Stewart. I have about 9 episodes of Jon and his trusty side-kick Stephen Colbert to watch.
This pleases me.
There's nothing like Jon to put a smile on my face. I get to giggle at right wingers and Tea Party folks who never took the time to learn how to spell in high school, because they were too busy being told what to think.
that and sleeping with their cousins
Anyway, I'm glad I at least got to say hi.
I'm now going to go enjoy Jon, watch Papi giggle at silly Facebook posts, tell Sir Bark-A-Lot to please not bark today, as it may push my head over the limit, causing it to implode, and try to drink liquid without crying.
Today, I will allow The Bastard Prince to do whatever the fuck he wants.
go to town shithead!
I'm not getting up to chase him with water spray bottles today.
but wait what is this?!?! papi to the rescue ...
Apparently, The Bastard Prince was eating butter.
I was wondering why there was a sleep session going on for 15 hours beside me. Of course I wasn't sleeping, because I was too busy trying to swallow saliva between coughs.
the razors in my throat!!!!!
My love just called in sick.
I just wanted my love to take care of me, but that's not going to happen. Perhaps Papi is getting me back for when I was supposed to be that caretaker, but didn't live up to my love's standards?
Perhaps.
Karma.
I seem to receive my karma pretty fast, which is good. You don't want it lurking, waiting to pounce, or you will get startled.
No, I will not be pampered, but I do think I have everything I need beside me:
~ an aging fruit smoothie that just doesn't look as appetizing as when it was first made
~ left over ginger tea from the day before that buurrrns as it goes down for the masochist in me
~ water that really doesn't taste good when you're sick, but we're told to drink it
~ Vitamin C tabs that are seriously not going to work once the flu has set in
~ a thermometer to check my temperature, in the off chance that I just may be dying and need to go to the hospital
~ sugary not-in-the-food-plan-at-all Halls cough drops with syrup centre that will give me zits
~ sugary not-in-the-food-plan-at-all throat numbing spray that now doesn't spray, because the sugar has congealed, so it just rolls down my fingers and out the side of my mouth that will contribute to the zit-fest that I now have to look forward to
~ kleenex for rubbing my nose so raw I will look like Rudolph by tomorrow
~ rice crackers and almond butter for when I just can't take the hunger anymore
~ both my cell phone and the land line in case I need to call someone to whine, because Papi has already heard it all
~ my oh-so-easy crossword puzzle that makes me feel smart because I can finish them without cheating
~ the book I'm reading, from The Magaic of Xanth about dragons and magic that proves my membership in the nerd club
~ the entire Fuzzy Family on the bed to make sure I starfish when I'm lying down flat
~ earplugs to drown out the snore of Sir Bark-A-Lot
~ and of course, Papi.
However, I'm now being told I need to gargle with salt water again. Am I the only one that gags when I do this?
Seriously!
I try so hard to gargle and I just about puke every time. I have very sensitive gag reflexes. I gag when I brush my teeth for fucks sakes, so gargling is not my thing.
The suckiest part of all this, is I've used up all my sick days from my back being a bitch, so now I'm not being paid. It brings back memories of when I was self employed; no paid sick days period!
The upside to all of this, is I'm behind on my Jon Stewart. I have about 9 episodes of Jon and his trusty side-kick Stephen Colbert to watch.
This pleases me.
There's nothing like Jon to put a smile on my face. I get to giggle at right wingers and Tea Party folks who never took the time to learn how to spell in high school, because they were too busy being told what to think.
that and sleeping with their cousins
Anyway, I'm glad I at least got to say hi.
I'm now going to go enjoy Jon, watch Papi giggle at silly Facebook posts, tell Sir Bark-A-Lot to please not bark today, as it may push my head over the limit, causing it to implode, and try to drink liquid without crying.
Today, I will allow The Bastard Prince to do whatever the fuck he wants.
go to town shithead!
I'm not getting up to chase him with water spray bottles today.
but wait what is this?!?! papi to the rescue ...
Apparently, The Bastard Prince was eating butter.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Death, Dying, Doom
Blech.
There's some kinda ick of a virus going around, and damn if I got it.
I wish I could say Papi and I had a great celebration on our anniversary, but I worked my butt off in the 'short bus', so the most we got to spend together was the hour after my shift while I was winding down. It's a damn good thing we've already booked our celebration day mid-August. We wouldn't get anything otherwise.
Today, my little yellow bus will be without me, and I'll be here in bed, with a few stolen moments with Papi on my love's day off.
That is of course, when I'm not sleeping.
I hope you have a wonderful day today.
There's some kinda ick of a virus going around, and damn if I got it.
I wish I could say Papi and I had a great celebration on our anniversary, but I worked my butt off in the 'short bus', so the most we got to spend together was the hour after my shift while I was winding down. It's a damn good thing we've already booked our celebration day mid-August. We wouldn't get anything otherwise.
Today, my little yellow bus will be without me, and I'll be here in bed, with a few stolen moments with Papi on my love's day off.
That is of course, when I'm not sleeping.
I hope you have a wonderful day today.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Happy! Anniversary Papi
It's our one year wedding anniversary today! Papi and I made to one year and we spent our evening prior to our day at a beautiful wedding. It was a perfect way to celebrate, even though I didn't think it would be.
It was a night filled with love.
By the end.
At the beginning of the evening, I slipped completely into terror. I didn't know why the stress level I had yesterday was relentlessly attacking me. I was shaking, my stomach hurt, and I was feeling very anxious.
It occurred to me this morning that indeed, I still have social anxiety about being in the community. The fear of others' judgement does affect me in endless ways.
Papi and I received a 'save the date' for a wedding by someone I wasn't sure would be caring about my feelings of Papi's male transformation.
When it came time to receive the actual invitation, it never came.
Of course, being the sensitive person I have been over the past 7 months, ...
ok ... my entire life ... but i think that i'm a little bit more coo-coo now that my love is changing ...
... I jumped straight to, "We've been UN-invited."
I mean of course! Why wouldn't we be?!
I have issues with Papi going through these changes and people have dissed me. Why wouldn't these folks too?
Well Papi, being the bull in a china shop, posted on Facebook in haste, "I think it's funny that we've been uninvited to a wedding."
When the bride read my love's status, she immediately thought, "Is that pertaining to me?" and quickly emailed mi esposo.
Our invitation was sent on a day where 130 emails were sent, and true to Murphy's Law, the one person that really needed to be shown they're still loved, was excluded.
that would be me.
It got cleared up through a back and forth email discussion, but being the whack job I am, I felt that it had to be true that I was uninvited.
unlovable, not good enough, invisible ...
By the end of the night, I found that I am indeed loved and accepted. Even by the people who haven't contacted me, knowing that I'm not doing the best I could be doing.
People do have their own shit going on, but when I was in crisis, I needed to know I was accepted by my community. Well, it doesn't always work out as we plan.
'you can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need.'
Yes, there were people there last night that have dissed me. I walked proudly past them with my tangerine, silky, clung to my ass dress that represented a red dress of strength, and ate as many oysters at the oyster bar as I could.
the oyster shucker was my new hero.
I danced while eating my non-dairy, bite sized tacos and allowed the room to see that I'm truly happier than I was the prior 7 months. I also found that I did have enough love by the few folks on my Trust List to hold my head high.
No, I wasn't afraid by the end of the night.
I was loved and proud of my handsome spouse. It was thrilling to be at a fun gathering to represent our happiness in our marriage.
It hasn't been all roses to say the least, but as I'm learning from other married folks, marriage is work. Ours just happens to be a little more **ahem** enter your own synonyms here for 'difficult' _________.
I belong, and it's now time to tell my story. I did so with only a few tears welling up in my eyes. However, there was no uncontrollable sobbing.
Truth be told.
Indeed.
It was a night filled with love.
By the end.
At the beginning of the evening, I slipped completely into terror. I didn't know why the stress level I had yesterday was relentlessly attacking me. I was shaking, my stomach hurt, and I was feeling very anxious.
It occurred to me this morning that indeed, I still have social anxiety about being in the community. The fear of others' judgement does affect me in endless ways.
Papi and I received a 'save the date' for a wedding by someone I wasn't sure would be caring about my feelings of Papi's male transformation.
When it came time to receive the actual invitation, it never came.
Of course, being the sensitive person I have been over the past 7 months, ...
ok ... my entire life ... but i think that i'm a little bit more coo-coo now that my love is changing ...
... I jumped straight to, "We've been UN-invited."
I mean of course! Why wouldn't we be?!
I have issues with Papi going through these changes and people have dissed me. Why wouldn't these folks too?
Well Papi, being the bull in a china shop, posted on Facebook in haste, "I think it's funny that we've been uninvited to a wedding."
When the bride read my love's status, she immediately thought, "Is that pertaining to me?" and quickly emailed mi esposo.
Our invitation was sent on a day where 130 emails were sent, and true to Murphy's Law, the one person that really needed to be shown they're still loved, was excluded.
that would be me.
It got cleared up through a back and forth email discussion, but being the whack job I am, I felt that it had to be true that I was uninvited.
unlovable, not good enough, invisible ...
By the end of the night, I found that I am indeed loved and accepted. Even by the people who haven't contacted me, knowing that I'm not doing the best I could be doing.
People do have their own shit going on, but when I was in crisis, I needed to know I was accepted by my community. Well, it doesn't always work out as we plan.
'you can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need.'
Yes, there were people there last night that have dissed me. I walked proudly past them with my tangerine, silky, clung to my ass dress that represented a red dress of strength, and ate as many oysters at the oyster bar as I could.
the oyster shucker was my new hero.
I danced while eating my non-dairy, bite sized tacos and allowed the room to see that I'm truly happier than I was the prior 7 months. I also found that I did have enough love by the few folks on my Trust List to hold my head high.
No, I wasn't afraid by the end of the night.
I was loved and proud of my handsome spouse. It was thrilling to be at a fun gathering to represent our happiness in our marriage.
It hasn't been all roses to say the least, but as I'm learning from other married folks, marriage is work. Ours just happens to be a little more **ahem** enter your own synonyms here for 'difficult' _________.
I belong, and it's now time to tell my story. I did so with only a few tears welling up in my eyes. However, there was no uncontrollable sobbing.
Truth be told.
Indeed.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
listen ...
The Gramma Drama has just about taken it's final bow.
She's going completely loopy and she's dragging us along with her.
Yesterday, I composed a text to Papi in an hysterical state, where my heart was going to slam straight out of my chest and said, "I almost wrote to you that I've had it and I'm moving out."
My caring love said, "Oh dear, you sound like I did this morning."
This morning when I woke up, I read a very early morning text from Papi that read, "I can't take much more of G'ma either. I think I may move out!!"
It's hard let me tell you.
If you've ever taken care of an elder, then you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't, you have no idea what you're in for when your time comes.
be afraid ... be VERY afraid ...
No need to go into detail berating the old fart here for my 'good morning, let's sort out my brain' blogging episode.
Let's just say that between my emotions about Papi's male transformation, working 10 hour shifts, preparing for a massive show in 3 weeks, ...
gasp!!! wtf?!?! 3 weeks?!?!? there goes that chest pain again ...
... trying to keep up with the Fuzzy Family and having the Gramma Drama unfold with every breathing moment I'm at home is taking it's toll.
sometimes, i replay the Supertramp Song in my mind ... exchanging the wife for the g'ma
Hence, I thought I was going to have a heart attack on the bus to pick up our now fixed car.
One good thing is, I don't have time to wallow about my love's male transformation. It's really a good thing.
I get to think about what a goofy spouse I have.
I'm pretty sure I told you that Papi thinks my blogs are boring if they don't include my love. Well, when a couple of my Blogger Friends mentioned they'd like to see pics, Papi read the comments and just about jumped for glee.
There went my love, faster than a cheetah to grab the camera, scattering the Fuzzy Family. We had to give every picture the once over to be sure it was the perfect one to display to the world.
It was like Papi was a star and I was the paparazzi.
or rather the PAPIrazzi.
I couldn't stop giggling at my love.
We were taking pics of mi esposo's progress, and for that moment, I didn't see the scars or the angry nipple.
I saw my soul mate.
The one that I married.
When I think about that, I realize that being here in this moment is really ok. I don't need to think about those fears that are welling up in me that I'll have a balding, pot bellied, hairy middle aged man as a companion for the rest of our lives together.
It's now coming to light that all the changes mi esposo wants to make are really not going to change the silly, gorgeous, loving, understanding person I married.
I will always see my butch.
As much as Papi gets frustrated when I glaze over as mi esposo starts talking about the caterpillar that isn't growing in fast enough, I do listen.
I may not speak, but I listen.
I listen to these words that are important to Papi.
Then I slip back into what's important to me.
My love.
She's going completely loopy and she's dragging us along with her.
Yesterday, I composed a text to Papi in an hysterical state, where my heart was going to slam straight out of my chest and said, "I almost wrote to you that I've had it and I'm moving out."
My caring love said, "Oh dear, you sound like I did this morning."
This morning when I woke up, I read a very early morning text from Papi that read, "I can't take much more of G'ma either. I think I may move out!!"
It's hard let me tell you.
If you've ever taken care of an elder, then you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't, you have no idea what you're in for when your time comes.
be afraid ... be VERY afraid ...
No need to go into detail berating the old fart here for my 'good morning, let's sort out my brain' blogging episode.
Let's just say that between my emotions about Papi's male transformation, working 10 hour shifts, preparing for a massive show in 3 weeks, ...
gasp!!! wtf?!?! 3 weeks?!?!? there goes that chest pain again ...
... trying to keep up with the Fuzzy Family and having the Gramma Drama unfold with every breathing moment I'm at home is taking it's toll.
sometimes, i replay the Supertramp Song in my mind ... exchanging the wife for the g'ma
Hence, I thought I was going to have a heart attack on the bus to pick up our now fixed car.
One good thing is, I don't have time to wallow about my love's male transformation. It's really a good thing.
I get to think about what a goofy spouse I have.
I'm pretty sure I told you that Papi thinks my blogs are boring if they don't include my love. Well, when a couple of my Blogger Friends mentioned they'd like to see pics, Papi read the comments and just about jumped for glee.
There went my love, faster than a cheetah to grab the camera, scattering the Fuzzy Family. We had to give every picture the once over to be sure it was the perfect one to display to the world.
It was like Papi was a star and I was the paparazzi.
or rather the PAPIrazzi.
I couldn't stop giggling at my love.
We were taking pics of mi esposo's progress, and for that moment, I didn't see the scars or the angry nipple.
I saw my soul mate.
The one that I married.
When I think about that, I realize that being here in this moment is really ok. I don't need to think about those fears that are welling up in me that I'll have a balding, pot bellied, hairy middle aged man as a companion for the rest of our lives together.
It's now coming to light that all the changes mi esposo wants to make are really not going to change the silly, gorgeous, loving, understanding person I married.
I will always see my butch.
As much as Papi gets frustrated when I glaze over as mi esposo starts talking about the caterpillar that isn't growing in fast enough, I do listen.
I may not speak, but I listen.
I listen to these words that are important to Papi.
Then I slip back into what's important to me.
My love.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Just a Moment
Successfully accomplished fuck all yesterday.
Today I may be manic trying to catch up, but before I do that, I need to regroup and have a chat with 'you', my imaginary friend.
I always feel better after we've spoken.
or perhaps it's the fact that 'you' come along with a cup of coffee ... hmmmm ...
I'm feeling extremely overwhelmed with all I have to achieve over the next few weeks.
I had a really nice talk with bandmate/producer Lin Gardiner the other day. It was about energy. It was about how little I have since the brain injury, and how I'll be joining with BlueLight as my primary and HECTOR as a secondary.
I do 99% of everything on my own for HECTOR and sometimes, just trying to get my drummer out to a sound check on the gig day is even work.
With BlueLight, I have the hardest working, most professional person I could ever ask for in a duo.
Pre-brain injury, I could take on the world. I would say 'yes' to everything, do it all myself, and somehow swing it with my superman boots and cape affixed.
Now?
It's all about one thing at a time. I no longer have the drive.
or the organizational skills ... where the fuck did i put my organizational skills?!?!?!?
It's almost like I now live the meaning of being in the moment. If I look too far ahead, I get anxious and freeze to the point of not doing anything.
seriously ... where did andréa go?
Other people with brain injury have spoken about their super powers that they've acquired.
Not me.
I just got lazy.
It also carries over into every aspect of my life, including this male transformation.
The future terrifies me. If I stay right here, right now, I can handle so much more.
Yes.
My love now has a flat chest.
Yes.
I see a caterpillar above the lips I kiss.
Yes.
Papi is getting helium voice.
this one is the current 'oh gawd help me i can't take it'.
Yes.
I'm still in love with Papi.
However, while I was on the phone with a panicked conversation about the car, I let a 'she' slip out in reference to Papi. Boy did I get the death stare.
Then on Facebook, I saw my love do what I didn't want to ever see.
Mi esposo has openly asked every person on my love's friends list to refer to Papi as 'he'.
It really is hard with a new pronoun, especially when I still see Papi as my butch. I don't see a man. I don't know that I ever will, because Papi is my Papi.
Today.
Right now.
Papi is still my butch.
If I look to the future of the 'man' my love wishes to be ...
i'll freak the fuck right out
... I'll get anxious and see things I just shouldn't be seeing.
Today I may be manic trying to catch up, but before I do that, I need to regroup and have a chat with 'you', my imaginary friend.
I always feel better after we've spoken.
or perhaps it's the fact that 'you' come along with a cup of coffee ... hmmmm ...
I'm feeling extremely overwhelmed with all I have to achieve over the next few weeks.
I had a really nice talk with bandmate/producer Lin Gardiner the other day. It was about energy. It was about how little I have since the brain injury, and how I'll be joining with BlueLight as my primary and HECTOR as a secondary.
I do 99% of everything on my own for HECTOR and sometimes, just trying to get my drummer out to a sound check on the gig day is even work.
With BlueLight, I have the hardest working, most professional person I could ever ask for in a duo.
Pre-brain injury, I could take on the world. I would say 'yes' to everything, do it all myself, and somehow swing it with my superman boots and cape affixed.
Now?
It's all about one thing at a time. I no longer have the drive.
or the organizational skills ... where the fuck did i put my organizational skills?!?!?!?
It's almost like I now live the meaning of being in the moment. If I look too far ahead, I get anxious and freeze to the point of not doing anything.
seriously ... where did andréa go?
Other people with brain injury have spoken about their super powers that they've acquired.
Not me.
I just got lazy.
It also carries over into every aspect of my life, including this male transformation.
The future terrifies me. If I stay right here, right now, I can handle so much more.
Yes.
My love now has a flat chest.
Yes.
I see a caterpillar above the lips I kiss.
Yes.
Papi is getting helium voice.
this one is the current 'oh gawd help me i can't take it'.
Yes.
I'm still in love with Papi.
However, while I was on the phone with a panicked conversation about the car, I let a 'she' slip out in reference to Papi. Boy did I get the death stare.
Then on Facebook, I saw my love do what I didn't want to ever see.
Mi esposo has openly asked every person on my love's friends list to refer to Papi as 'he'.
It really is hard with a new pronoun, especially when I still see Papi as my butch. I don't see a man. I don't know that I ever will, because Papi is my Papi.
Today.
Right now.
Papi is still my butch.
If I look to the future of the 'man' my love wishes to be ...
i'll freak the fuck right out
... I'll get anxious and see things I just shouldn't be seeing.
This is my fear:
This is my butch:
I'll just stay right here in the moment thank you very much.
Hello my name is Andréa, and I'm a Tranny Lover.
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