scratch that itch.

Being the drama queen I am, I thought there must have been something sinister going on.

Cancer!  Of course!  Because a lot of my family have been afflicted with it, it must be!

I'd heard that day about Angelina Jolie removing her breasts in a preventative measure against the cancer gene.

Not to mention, sure enough, while I'm in a country that doesn't really make me confident with their medical system, it would be now that the horrible things happened, right?!

I went online to search for proof of my demise, googling, 'itchy boob' and found a lot of women with the same problem.

There are a few different diseases, but I didn't have the 'burning' that accompanied, nor do I have any lumps or swelling.

Other than the fact, of course, that I've been scratching it so much that my nipple is a little angry.

But I kept looking and searching and blammo!  There it was.

Allergies.

I'm so allergic to chemicals and while we don't have a washing machine and while I don't want to rub the skin off my knuckles anymore, we bring it in to the hard working women 20 minutes away in Cabarete.

I remember picking up my items and that awesome pretty smell was just wonderful!

Putting on my clothes, I found it to be refreshing, instead of the stink that accumulates from wearing the same clothes over and over.

But that pretty aroma is the problem.

It's no wonder it's my privates that are so damn itchy, when clothes are smack dab against them, rubbing in the heat, releasing all the chemicals onto my skin.

Even yesterday, when I told Papi of my silent drama that was going on without his knowledge, and upon finding the result with relief, he told me, "Yeah, these clothes feel heavy with whatever they use."

No kidding.  Weighed down with chemicals.

So, now the problem is, I wait.  We're back on Dominican Time as we wait for word about what happens next with that damn machine.

The washing machine tech came and finally gave me the answer we needed.

The machine will not work here, because it is digital and the sine, square or whatever else wave it runs on isn't working with our electrical system.

He told me he would write them an email and ask if we could exchange for a good old dial system that won't fail us.

I'll probably have to call and nudge them for an answer for another month.

We have had this damn machine in our house for 2.5 months now.  Nada.

No laundry, and two visits from the tech, not to mention an upgrade of our electrical, not just for the machine, but what we needed to do to get electrical working should have worked for the machine if it worked for Papi's air conditioning he desperately needed to sleep.

Anyway, at least the Google search relieved me of the drama and now I can just ask the angels to perhaps, maybe get this Dominican Time to speed up a bit?

That and from this point forward, until I get that damn machine, at least my bras and undies will be washed by hand.

I'm not going through this much longer.

Sometimes, I can't wait for the workers to leave so that I can strip down and scratch.

One thing I did learn about while going through my boob drama, was that in order to get a doctor here, it's much different than in Canada.

You don't just 'go get a doctor'.  First, you go to the hospital and there you will be given a specific doctor for your ailment.

Then, it's up to each individual to keep a medical record of the results, dates, doctors seen etc.

They don't keep a file on you here.  No paper trail or records to show any history that a doctor might need for symptoms etc.

You must be accurate in your records, or clues could go missing, and you won't have the support you need.

Well, I have to go get my ear looked at and I'm a little afraid of the system here.

I can't really hear out of my right ear, because I have 0% pressure in it from my jaw moving during my Brace Face expedition for 2 years.

I know in Canada, they said to wait until the shrapnel was off, then they'd put a little tube in my drum, release the pressure and I'd have my hearing back.

It scares me with the language barrier as to what might happen here.

Well, today we go to see if we can fix my ear without losing my hearing permanently.

Wish me luck.

i make intelligent choices

nails on a chalkboard.

So, I was super excited to get those tiny, steel jail cells off my teeth.

However, nobody told me what to expect.  Not even Papi, who just had his off a few months back.

There I was lying waiting for the 'magic braces removal' machine.

 

There was no 'magic braces removal' machine.  Just a little gizmo that went crunch and tore them off my teeth.

Sometimes, it felt like she was going to rip my pearlies right out of my gums!

Yet, that was no where near the worst part.  When all the crunching and snapping was done, they had to remove the glue.

There was no 'magic glue remover' machine, either.  Just a scraper.

Imagine having someone scrape the chalkboard with their nails for half an hour, IN YOUR MOUTH!!!

Scrape, shudder.  Scrape, shudder.  Scrape, shudder.  Seriously.  My toes were curling.

Then she was done, and told me to go rinse.

What I saw in the mirror was amazing.  It was like it really wasn't me!

I was worried someone was playing a cruel trick and I'd turn around and have shrapnel in my mouth again.

I couldn't stop smiling and giggling.

I did feel a little cheated though.

They let me leave without my 'Look who just got their braces off!' picture.  Everyone gets that picture!  I washed my hair for that picture!

Fuck 'em.  I decided I would just have to make my own photo and post it around everyone's texts and a 'few' people online.

 

Then I decided to eat with my new teeth.

Ahhhhh, the feeling of eating without it all being stuck in my braces.  Not to mention the feeling of NOT spitting it at every person in my vicinity.

Oh, and chewing with my mouth closed is pretty classy too.

I bought myself a wheat free, dairy free brownie, cupcake and piece of cake and ate them all in a matter of a few hours.

Then I flossed, because I could.

Twice.

No more Brace Face.

Yesterday, I smiled at every person I passed.  Even the depressed ones.  Yeah, I'm sure they really appreciated that.

Nothing like seeing a happy person when you feel like you'll never smile again.

Maybe I gave them a dose of my good energy for that one moment?

i love and approve of myself aside from my accomplishements

this is not a blog.

I'm writing to tell you there will be no blog today.

And that this is not a blog.

This is merely a memo to let you know why there will be no blog today.

There will be no blog today because I'm busy.

Doing what you may ask?

... are you asking it?!?!?!?  c'mon!!  you have to ask it!!! ...

Because ...






Wait for it ...






















I'M GETTING MY BRACES OFF BITCHES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

:)

woohoo mothafuckahs!!!!!!

a day in the life ...

The game is, whomever gets to The Countdown first in the morning gets to rip a tab off.  Sometimes it's Papi coming home from a Graveyard shift, sometimes it's me waking up from slumberland.

 

I usually piddle a little from joy when I get to look at this:

 

Papi gets a boner when he looks at this:

 

Then, before I hit the washroom to clean up the mess I made from excitement of getting my braces off, I light The Golden's candle to say good morning and stare at the love we've given him over the past 2 weeks.

 

I've been writing him love notes and begging him to come show me he is OK.  He finally did last night.

He came bounding through the door of my dream, jumped all over me and I told him I love him so many times.  He kissed me over and over and I woke up with a healed heart.

He's happy, youthful and very, very well.

Then I went back to playing in a band with Keith Urban.  I'm not sure why I dream about that guy so much, but I do.

Anyway, then I stagger to the kitchen to make my coffee, and this is the first thing I see:

 

Chaos of preparation.

However, there is one cute thing to look at.

 

You'll have to look really close to see it, but in the depths of this darkness, there is a kitten that goes by the name of The Mrs.  She's decided this is her new home.

She's gonna be pissed when she finds out she has to share it for 8 hours with The Bastard Prince.

After I've fed all the Fuzzy Family, a certain member doesn't want to go outside for his morning tinkle.

This is where he hides, because he actually thinks he's invisible here:

 

Don't ask me why.

But dammit!  It would sure be nice if the li'l puto used it for it's purpose, instead of me walking him outside in my worst outfits possible and skanky hair to go along with it!

A femme should never have to look that horrible in public!

So, there ya go.

Our Closet.

Our life.

i feel radiantly full of abundant energy and health

here's a new one ...

So sick.

Shit.  Quite literally.

At least I know it's not a parasite.  The way it came on was completely unlike the parasites I've had before.

And besides, I'm behaving myself and not eating the salad.  I have my Brace Face to thank for that.  I still can't chew salad with ease.

Anyway, I got something, and I'm assuming it was Montezuma's Revenge.  I've never had that one before.  I thought it was food poisoning, but having had food poisoning a few times in my life, I can safely say food poisoning is much more violent.

I braced myself for the worst while I was clinging to the walls of the bathroom anyway.

We were on our way out to the supermercado to get snacks when it hit me.

I thought I just had gas.

Well, I did have gas, but it turned into much, much more as I asked in a frenzied way, "Donde esta el bano?!?!"

When we returned from the store, Papi dropped me off at the front of the hotel and went to park the car.

As much as I'm studying Spanish, I still get things wrong, like the last trip, when I tried to say, "I'm hungry," but instead said, "I have man."

I did it again yesterday, only this time, they didn't laugh.  They took it seriously.

I tried to walk up the 3 tiny stairs to the lobby, but I was on the verge of passing out.  I couldn't walk.

The security came to ask me if I needed help, and I tried to say, "I'm sick."

He could totally understand by the way I was pale, shaking and unable to walk that there was something wrong.

I was grateful that they walked me to the little buggy to drive me home, but damn!  Once we were in that little cart, we didn't need to go so fast!

They were speeding in and out of people, one swerve shy of honking and I thought, "Gee!  They're really being sweet about this!"

Then we arrived at the medic and Papi saying, "No doctor!  Just go home."

I was trying to agree, "Si, dormitorio," but I was too crampy, faint and nauseas to spit out the words with conviction.

Finally they got it and drove us to our room, helping me up the stairs.  They looked so worried and said, "If it is not better, call the doctor!"  I understood enough to get it.

I agreed and collapsed in the bed, until my body erupted, expunging the poisons from my system.

It wasn't until a little bit later, that I realized I may have said the wrong thing to those poor souls who were speeding me to get help.

I remembered, because when I was staying with my Eternal Friend for those 2 weeks, she was helping me study my Spanish, and told me I confused 'nurse' and 'sick'.

I decided to look it up on Google Translate and sure enough, I said, "enfermera," instead of, "enferma."

Easy enough mistake, and that would be why they rushed me to the medic.

Papi said that everyone in the resort was looking at the drama, and now I have to face the whole place who are wondering if I'm dying.

I'm so damn embarrassed, but such is the life of someone learning a new language.

It's not much different than when we try to say, "I love you," on our cell phones and it comes out, "I lice you."

I won't be leaving the room today.

However, I do have an update for you about The Hotel Shark. 

We went snorkeling and now I get it.  It didn't hit a shark or a whale.  It was indeed a sand dune, but the reason it felt slimy is because it's covered in that gross grass that waves around!!!

That's more disgusting than anything!!!  EWWWWWW!!!

When I feel better, I'll still be sticking to the shallow end.

For now, I'll be lying here in the room, eating bananas.

i have a positive attitude about what i eat, how i eat, and when i eat

red flag

If you weren't pissed off enough from the G'ma predator post, this will make your blood boil for sure.

Upon speaking to one of her friends, we found out that he had done the same thing to her.

He intimidated this other lady by forcing her to sit with him at functions they both attend, he constantly came on to her, and when she refused his proposal of sex, he got angry at her, because she wouldn't let him come up to her apartment.

Red flag much?

That was enough for me to get the police involved.  They said that given her age and the fact that she has Alzheimer's, that they'd definitely set up a file for her.

Normally, the victim would have to be the one to report, but in this case, we could do the deed in her place.

We've set up the file and the other ol' fart is going to use the file case to make her complaint as well.

They now know where he lives, what he drives ...

... while he's drunk ...

... and what he's up to.

Turns out, they already have him on the radar.  They didn't specify as to what it was for, so we're assuming that it's for D.U.I.s.

I asked if he had a record of being a sexual predator, but he doesn't have a record for that.

Yet.

If he makes one more move, he WILL have a record as an offender.

We have no proof that he's done anything to our G'ma, but at least he's banned from the home and is on the radar of the police.

We're allllll watching you asshole.

I dare ya.  Make a step and test me.

After all the gramma drama of the police, and G'ma not really understanding why they were there, Papi and I had a much better evening.

We relaxed.  Everything is done, and now we just wait for the house to sell.

That was when I felt I could take a phone call from My Boifriend.

Sometimes, I just can't have a conversation, because I can't focus on anything other than the stress I'm freaked out by, but last night I did.

I'm so excited!  My Boifriend knows how to start the process of finding my big brother!

I feel the need to find him before we take off.  We have a bit of time.  The house has to sell and I have to finish up with my legal stuff in December.

So, we have a few months to find him!

I can't wait!

I really feel like this could happen.  The power of energy is important to remember.

Getting the energy out there that I'm looking for him may allow that beautiful positive energy to help me find him.

I believe I can.

I wonder if he's looking for us as well?  I wonder if he looks like me?  I wonder if he got the same Honky 'Fro that I got from our father?  I wonder if he has the same horrible crooked teeth? 

Oh, I guess I can't say that about myself anymore.  They're lookin' pretty straight and pretty now!

My Brace Face has really come a long way.

Anyway, as I sit here and write, I watch all the people walking past me and wonder, brother, where art thou?

It could be that man I just saw walk past. 

It really could be anyone.

i am stress free

fuck you starbucks.

I'm on a mission and I need the help of all my Blogger Friends.

Do you go to Starbucks?

I don't really support them all that much, as I support local, ethical coffee shops that have organic coffee, but occasionally I will.  If it's a choice between a shop with no non-dairy substitutes ...

... ahem TIMMIES!!!! you mother fuckers ... how many letters do i have to write?!?!? ...

... or Starbucks, of course I'll go there, because I HATE black coffee.

Unless there's cinnamon brewed into it.

But I won't be getting into talking about my perfect, Dominican style coffee I make every morning.

Anyway, now I have even more reason not to support Starbucks.

Their honey.

That's right.

OK.

So, they've started using these 'packets' of honey instead of the traditional honey bear or some other variation of honey jar.

First of all, this is extremely non-environmental.

Second of all, the fucking honey goes all over my hands!

Third of all, I can't rip the packets open with my teeth, because of my Brace Face! 

There's also the gross thought of the person before me, having picked their ass, not washed their hands and reached into that bowl of packets with their cruddy, germ infested fingers.

... shudders ...

So!

I've started asking them for scissors.

Here's what I want everyone to do!

Ask for scissors!

What will happen is they'll get sick and fucking tired of grabbing the scissors, not to mention they'll have to clean them off all the time, and they will switch back to the honey bear.

Then there's the fact that some of those scissors will go missing and that will be very costly for them.

I'm on a mission folks!

Help me make a change to their ridiculous honey situation.

In order for little ol' me to make an impact, I'd have to spend a gazillion bucks to make them crazy, and I really don't like giving a big corporation my money if I don't have to.

Will you help me?

If you support Starbucks, ask for scissors for their honey and get the honey all over the scissors too!

That would make them even more insane!

It's also kinda fun to watch the barista roll their eyes when you ask for them.

It's the only way I can think of.

Short of us all writing an email.

We all know nobody's going to do that.

Well, except for me. 

I did, but I'm kinda crazy that way.

i have the power to realize my goals

A New Space.

So there I was, absolutely ecstatic about being able to do my blob/blab this morning in sunlight and my fucking plans were bamboozled.

You know how I have to have a routine in the morning to make my breakfast?  I'm a wreck in the morning.  My poor injured brain can't function, unless I have my routine.

Well, last night we moved upstairs from the dungeon, and I thought I'd moved everything I needed for making my breakfast.

Nope.  All I moved up was my coffee bodum and beans.

Good god.  If you've ever seen a comedy routine like the one this morning, you'd never forget it.

Up and down the stairs, trying to figure out what I need next, coffee beans hadn't been ground until after the water was boiled, apple sauce cups flying all over the place as I tried to bring them up the stairs while that kettle screamed at me to do something about it, and no spices for my eggs.

Not to mention, my first bite of eggs fell off my fork and on to the floor, and were now an awesome treat for Sir Bark-A-Lot.  After inhaling it in one gulp, he looked at me as if to say, "Please sir, could I have some more?"

I don't know about you, but my breakfast has to go well for me to get a good start in the morning.

Then came the worst decision I could make on this day.   I thought I'd check the mail.  Bad idea.

There was my little envelope saying all my benefits that I sent in for my Brace Face were not eligible.  NOT a nice thing to read before I've had my coffee.

The woman on the phone was absolutely wonderful, mostly because I told her my animosity was not directed toward her, but toward that horrid fucking company she works for.

She didn't disagree.  She only giggled.

I liked her giggle.  It calmed me down.

I asked her if she ever received a happy person on the other end, because every time I call I'm psychotic and want to fly through the telephone wire and strangle someone.

She giggled and replied, "Well, we get a mixture of satisfied customers and some not so happy."

I asked, "You mean bitchy people like me?"  Again, she only giggled.

She soothingly explained to me what nobody else has ever explained in my 4.5 years of dealing with them.  She broke down what every little number meant and how it works.

I cooled off and told her I hope the rest of her day was filled with the satisfied customers she spoke of.  She gave me one last giggle, "Thank you.  I hope your day gets better."

This blob/blab today was supposed to be about the fact that I'm up here writing in beautiful daylight upstairs, and not in the dungeon.

The gargantuan, acorn filled trees are my amazing picture as I write to you.  Every little wisp of wind helps the leaves wave at me to greet me to my new view for writing.

The sunshine coming through the window absolutely makes my heart feel so much more warmth and happiness.

That's what this was supposed to be about.

Oh.  And the cats.  They are not liking the fact that we're upstairs with Psycho Kitty.  I tried to get them to come up and eat, but they prefer living with Dungeon Syndrome.

At least while they're down there, they know their hiding places and are content that they can gang up on Psycho Kitty and run him outta town!

I'll continue to attempt to feed them up here, but The Mrs. won't eat.  She just paces the room meowing showing the whites of her eyes.

She's also not impressed that everything is gone from her space.

All alone sits her cat tree, amongst the vacant space of a room that holds only my piano and a few items that we won't be getting rid of until the house sells.

It occurred to me that the anxiety Papi and I are feeling is also being felt by the Fuzzy Family.  I can use them as my gauge as to why I'm feeling so unsettled.

This is an exciting venture, but there is also a little bit of difficulty when life is in chaos.

The critters are my mirror.  Another reason I love them so much.

Ah for fucks sakes.  I just spilled my entire water glass.

joy overflows in my life

Time to get a gun.

That's what I'm thinking.

Interesting that this Miranda Lambert song was the song I sang the most yesterday.

Some songs are made for the day better than others, however, I didn't know why I played this one over and over, other than the fact that I love it.

You see, Papi had a birthday surprise for me.

He told me to be ready by 3 and not to eat a big lunch.

How could I not eat a big lunch?

I have $350 worth of food to eat before it goes bad.

Including a wheat free, dairy free birthday cake, filled with sugar to throw my chemical imbalance into a tizzy.

Fuck it.  I ate it.

I ate the whole fucking thing.

That's right.

That's what you all get for missing my birthday:  Hurricane Andréa, complete with zits from head to tits.

What fucking ever, I don't fucking care, and I finished that bitch off last night.

Today I'll be starting on the salmon and shrimp.

Anyway, back to my wonderful surprise.

For starters, we went out to a wheat free, dairy free restaurant and I had a Reuben Sandwich.  It was good times having sauerkraut hanging from my braces.  It made for good Brace Face.

When I was finished brushing my teeth after an hour of hogging the only bathroom in the joint, he got out the GPS and we headed out of town.  As we drove closer to bum-fuck-nowhere, I got more and more curious about where the hell we were going.

Oh, but when we got to the door, I can't tell you how ecstatic I was!!!

A fucking shooting range bitches!!!!!!

I blasted those mother fucking bullets into the pretend person's head and chest. 

I didn't really have anyone in mind for a kill list, so you can all rest easy.

Goddamit, I can't tell you how fucking good it felt with every kick back that little canon gave me.

BANG!!  BANG!!  BANG!!

Take that mother fuckers!!  And that!!  And that!!

I've always wanted a gun and nobody will allow me to have one.

... can't imagine WHY?!?!? hehehe ...

I do have to say, it was probably the best birthday present/surprise ever.

It felt so good.  It felt just like I've always expected it to feel, but it was over too soon.

At the end, when my heart was pulsing with adrenaline, this is what I looked like:

Do you see that look in my eyes?!?!

Oh, how I enjoyed it.  Maybe just a little too much?

It's interesting that the song I played on repeat over and over all day was foreshadowing my day.

Indeed.

Time to get a gun.

life is a joy filled with delightful surprises

Carnivore.

Ok.

So, now I'm ready for the Brace Face to leave my mouth.

I have a good few months left.  Maybe around 9 or so.  So wanting them off now is really not good for the attitude.

I've done well though.  I've enjoyed the future outcome up until now.

Really, it's all about food.

I love food.

I especially love steak.

And corn on the cob.

And freshly cooked veggies that are not overdone.

This whole damn weekend was filled with food I couldn't eat.

It was kinda like I was a carnivore-ian this weekend.

Couldn't chew veggies done on the BBQ for our garden party, nor could I chomp on the ones they had at the brunch.

So, I just ate chicken, fish, eggs and sausages.

Not that I'm complaining about that part, but damn!  A piece of medium rare steak would have been nice!

No.

It's hamburger meat for me if I want to indulge in beef.  It's not that good for us anyway, but goddam, watching everyone enjoy was a bit of a downer.

Oh for fucks sakes, now I'm on a food tangent.

I really wanted to tell you about my weekend because I was so busy having fun I didn't get to write.

The garden party was fantabulous!!!  The happy gardeners plugged their way through weeds and overgrown pretty plants, and these amazing friends dressed our yard to the 9's.

Now the G'ma will have to find something else to nag about.

Don't you worry.

She will.

The next day was the Mother's Day Brunch!

Of course, Mr. Homophobia did show up, and pretended to like us to be sure everyone else around him didn't know he was a homophobic piece of shit.

That's saved for my mother to listen to.

There's nothing worse than a two faced person who is nice to your face and hates you behind your back.

I have always fallen for it in the past, but since the 'mean girls' did their two face trick, I'm not so gullible, nor do I give people the benefit of the doubt anymore.

He gave the fake hug hello and good-bye and pretended to care about how we were on this day.

But I have to tell you what the most fun of that day was.

You see, we were at my biological G'ma's old folks home for an extravaganza of a brunch.  My bio-G'ma was seated at the head of the table.

My live in G'ma was seated at the other end of the table.

Bio-G'ma kept staring at the old bird at the other end.

You could read her mind!  Gramma drama was in full swing!

"Who the hell is that asshole down there?!?  It's my table!  I've never seen her around these parts.  Doesn't she know this is my family?  Who let her sit at the end of my table?!?"

It was truly something to behold.  I couldn't stop laughing at the face she was donning.

... or perhaps that was just the pain meds?...

And at the end of the day, we had a really nice family picture to remember the visit.

No.  Mr. Homophobia didn't make it into my picture of love.

But look at those two old birds!!!!

Happy Mother's day indeed.

Complete with my baby sister, her lovely family and Papi.

And pain killers.

if it were easy, everyone would do it

jaw surgery diet.

In three more sleeps, I'll be waking up to get my jaw surgery.

I'm actually looking forward to it.

Not the pain.

Not looking forward to that part.  We all know how well I deal with pain.

But I'm looking forward to my teeth matching up.

My brace face is looking really buck toothed these days.

My friends are sweet and say they don't notice, but I feel like a donkey.

So, after the surgery, my bottom teeth will match the front teeth and I'll be chewing like the majority of you out there!

Mind you, that's a good month or so after the surgery.

There won't be any chewing for a while.

First two weeks I'm on a liquid diet again.

This is the reason I'm going crazy eating everything I know I'll miss.

I'm going to load so many veggies into my system that I just might look green around the gills.

Not to mention, the wheat-free muffins, diary-free chocolate bars, coconut 'ice cream', peanut butter on kamut toast, and many many more lovely treats that won't be consumed by this belly for a while.

The two weeks after my liquid diet I can move on to mush.

Baby food.

You know the drill.

Then after the two weeks of mush, I can start attempting to chew normal things again.

Anyway, this is how I got past the rationale with my doozy of an eating disorder that has told me I should gorge on these treats of tragedy.

Yeah.

Zits will be in abundance.

So will the mirror of doom. 

Whatever.

The post-op sheets told me I'll lose 5-10 lbs on the jaw surgery diet, which in their words is; 'nothing to be of concern'.

Are you serious?

Concern?

I saw that and jumped for joy!

It's kinda like the amitriptyline withdrawal diet, or like the Mexican parasite diet.

Those were really great diet regimes.

Now I'll have a third to add to the diet methods I'm always in search of.

I'll get my jaw surgery diet after I allow myself all kinds of treats.

And veggies.

I'm going to miss my veggies the most.

I know it sounds crazy, but I crave collards, chard and kale.

And chocolate.

But I have 3 glorious days to eat as much of them as my blood can handle.

I'm also still off the coffee in terms of the 'addiction' to it.  I've had 2 coffees in a month and a half.  I'd say that's pretty damn good.

After my liquid diet, there will be coffee.

Every day.

The way your 'god' intended.

i create love by expressing love, compassion and understanding

So Queer!

I didn't get to write to 'you', my imaginary friend, yesterday.

To tell you the truth, I was too busy with my hair.

Yeah.

That's right.

My hair.

Hair day 2011.  The roots were pretty disastrous and my frazzled ends were a fire hazard of natty dreads.

Anyway, to get my trim and roots done, it takes 4 hours.

grateful again for pain killers ...

So I was a bit busy.

Then, I came home to my dearest Papi not feeling so hot.

Again.

Poor thing couldn't get the goods outta the back door and now it's coming out in droves.

Sharts to be exact.

We don't want to make Papi laugh at inopportune moments.  It might mean there's an emergency toilet visit, along with donning of clean drawers.

Anyway, as we were relaxing together, I happened to see something really fancy.

Yes, folks, I am listed as one of the ten top queers in Vancouver.

Pretty fucking shwanky I'd say.

Shwanky enough, in fact, that my love took a break from Sims-O-Rama-Banana-Fana-Ding-Dong-Land to talk to friends about it.

Today, while I was sitting in that chair at the my hair stylist's salon, Moods, and I was thinking, "Damn!  I always get my hair done when there's nowhere to go show it off."

As much as I didn't get my Golden Globe moment from my fancy hairdo, it was like I was virtually given an opportunity to brag.

You have to have good hair in order to brag.  That and a really good lipstick shade.

I also am in regrets every time I go, because I never remember to get a picture of my Honky 'Fro in my foils.  It's truly a sight to marvel at.

So much so, that while my ringlets have been separated and combed out into a nasty Honky 'Fro from hell, people will stop at the salon window, point and stare.

I just smile a great, silvery, Brace Face smile.

Now I owe you 2 pictures!  One for my straight hair, and one for my foil head.

It's not that I'm lazy, I'm just too slow on the draw.

Anyway, I had good hair to accept my place as one of the top ten queers in Vancouver.

I'm a super something now!  Not just one of The Hector-Browns!

Only 2 days left until we say goodbye to 2011 and be grateful for our year that has passed, and made us who we are.  The good, the bad and the ugly.

I'm grateful that today I feel emotionally better than I did 2 days ago.

I'm grateful that I live in a part of the world where I am so privileged, that I can have a pampering day.

I'm grateful for my Fuzzy Family, who keep me realizing what the only important things in life are food, love and shelter.

I'm grateful to be supported by my friends, who help me feel worthy.

I'm grateful that I laugh, almost every single day.

Schmooze-0-Rama!

Well, it's the time of year for parties.

I've been so busy trying to keep up with all the advantageous moments to be amongst friends, acquaintances and BigWigs!

Last night was the BigWigs.

Fortunately, my brain injury has donned me with horrid facial recognition, so when the BigWigs would talk to me, I was calmly myself.

You know how you get when you meet someone important, and you choke up?  Well, that doesn't happen if you don't recognize them.

For example, they were handing out lovely little treats, and I was so hungry that I had to have it, but when I tried to bite in with my Brace Face, it was too hard.

No biggie.

I'll just announce it to the world of BigWig TV producers and directors, and see if someone has a better idea for me than to bite into pork belly on a stick.

I was lucky enough that one of the BigWig's wives was accommodating and passed me some tissues so I could remove the swine on a stake from my mouth, and try to grab some class while finding the perfect place on the table to discard it.

my brace face has really removed the 'classy' in my life ...

But alas, Mr. BigWig took off his glasses when he started to feel a little more 'spirited', and I had no idea who he was.

The night went like that for me repeatedly.  My sweet butch of a friend was my seeing eye person, and I continuously followed her lead.

Although, there were exceptions when she was busy speaking to someone else and I took initiative and introduced myself again.  Only to see their face knowingly smirk, and then I'd ask, "Umm, did we already do this?"

I was greeted with great smiles of, "Yes," and a chuckle.

However, nobody really batted an eye at it and I didn't have to give my brain injury disclaimer, because they were all drinking, so I fit in quite nicely.

Nothing but a room full of nerdy creative types, and I was in my element.

Well, there is a lot more schmoozing to be had this weekend.

I don't usually oblige with the parties etc. at X-Mas, but this year, I'm feeling so happy that I will.

I believe this is the first X-Mas season that I haven't felt like a crying lunatic in years.

Last year, I had the male transformation bomb drop and flood restoration from hell.

2009 was my terrible miscarriage that had me in emergency 3 times within 2 weeks, and 2 separate D&Cs to get that demon out of my body.

2008 was my motorcycle accident.  'Nuff said.

2007 I was suing The Beast who had made me homeless by having a packing party full of rancid people who thought that was the right thing to do to another human being, along with changing the locks on my home.

2006 was alright.  I had finally gotten on meds to help my chemical imbalance stop making me think suicide is a great option in this world.

2005 my Dearly Departed Gypsy girl passed away and I had a nervous breakdown that lasted until after the awful winter season took a hold of my emotions.

Yeah, I could go on, further back into life's miseries, because it just seems that every winter something happens to make me a little more insane.

This year?

I am the happiest that I can ever remember.  I feel like life has finally stopped attacking me.

Well, perhaps I'm just being given a break, because we all know life throws us curves, but none-the-less, I'm taking this break and running with it.

I feel like I'm shining with love and happiness so much, that a perfect stranger said to me last night, "You have such a beautiful smile.  You're always smiling!  People could use a lesson from you in understanding that life is not so bad."

They don't know that I just spent a year grieving and am finally out of the woods.

They don't know that this is the most peaceful, loving X-Mas season I can remember.

Well, off I go to a film screening of the movie I just composed for.

Charmed life?

Indeed.

Would you like a little chard with that?

Well looky here!

I forgot that my baby sister got a pic of my cousin straightening my hair.

But could you please just ignore my pasty white skin, my bucktoothed Brace Face and droopy red eyes from pain killers?!?!

This is not a good look for me.  I'm referring to the ghost look.  Not my straightened hair.

I have this gaunt look every year after my suntan fades.

Sometimes, I really hate winter.

Ok, that's a lie.

I always hate winter.

Anyway, new topic.

I schemed my revenge on the Tranny Terrorist, and executed the plan.

You see, these past few days, my love has been gorging on his birthday cake, then chasing it with Reese's mini peanut butter cups.

Every day I make him his protein shake, in hopes that he gets enough vitamins.

Well, today I ever so sneakily placed a leaf of chard in our Magic Bullet smoothie maker, and added the usual mixed frozen berries, protein powder, omega oils, and apple juice for papi, coconut milk for me.

When I gave my love his shake, it was difficult for me not to have a deviant look on my face as I delivered the goods.

I was hoping that he just wouldn't notice.

But alas, I heard, "Is there hair in my smoothie?!?!"

"No," I answered nonchalantly, with an added scoff of 'don't be ridiculous'.

Well, I couldn't contain my giggles when my love pulled a string of chard out of his shake.

"Did you put vegetables in my shake?!?!"

I'm pretty sure I heard him hack up a loogie on the word 'vegetables'.

However, I took advantage of my right to remain silent.

That changed, of course, until after the 4th time mi esposo asked the same question.

I eventually had to admit it, but I waited until Papi had finished at least half of his shake.  That way, I knew that he at least got a little bit of nutrition in that body that is saturated with sugar.

To my amazement, mi esposo actually drank the whole thing.

That is really all I could ask for, and now I have free reign to slip veggies into other foods without my love knowing.

Oh!

Did I tell you the story about buying Papi's birthday cake?

I don't think I did.

I had to wait until after I told Papi.

So, as I was speaking to the woman in charge of the bakery department, I told her exactly what kind of cake I needed, as the recipient was beyond finicky.

She said, "Yeah, kids can be so picky.  How old is he?"

"Thirty-six," I replied, waiting for the chuckle in reference to my very own manchild.

She did indeed get a kick out of it, then added, "Oh, that's even worse."

Indeed Safeway bakery lady.

Don't you know it.

I'm now straight.

What a day yesterday!

I started out with my physio who is more like a Master in an S&M role play.

I managed to squeak past him without much notice and head straight for my strengthening regime.

I then ran around and got goodies for an awesome family visit last night.

My baby sister and her family joined Papi and I at my aunt's house with my cousins.

It was a riot!

There were 2 very exciting parts of our visit that were out of the norm and a gay ol' time!

One of my sweet cousins is now a full fledged hair stylist and was eyeing my hair up all night.

You could see the shears in her mind just waiting for the opportunity to start clipping.

My hair does have this affect on hair dressers.  The scary part is with the bad Honky 'Fro hair cuts I've had, I won't go to new hairdressers for fear of leaving the salon looking like Roseanne Roseannadanna.

I won't go into stories about that or I'll be here all day and I won't get to the Papi part of this blob/blab.

yes ... it's alllll about my hair ...

However, she did ask if I've ever had it straightened, and because I hadn't, she decided to show me what it looks like.

I will do my best to get pics for you for tomorrow.  I need to have the full femme face on to really let you see the glory, and that's not going to happen until I've finished my coffee and done some work on my film score.

Never in my life has a comb gone through my hair without losing a few teeth.

It was pretty cool!

Now for the intersting moment.

Like I had told you, my nephew is going through puberty.  Well, Papi, and this now taller than me nephew, were having a great ol' time all alone in the 'man zone' chatting about electronics and boy stuff, while all 7 of us girls got to the make-over part of the evening.

When my love came out around the corner to ask the legitimate teacher in the house for some help with my nephew's homework, ...

... yes ... you heard right ... another story ...

... the two of them standing there like nothin' else I'd ever seen, I'll tell ya.

There they were.

Matching caterpillar moustaches, to go hand in hand with the matching 'Fox' sweatshirts.

The two of them were the epitome of awkward teen-ness.  I mean really!  Papi even has Brace Face to drive the effect back to home plate!

Now, when I call Papi a manchild, it's going to have a whole new meaning for me.

That was when it dawned on me.

My love had told that the transition takes a few years.

I didn't understand why, but I get it now.

My love truly is a teen with peach fuzz, and it will take a few years to get through the teen-ness and into adult manly-ness.

i'm having a few issues at this moment thinking of the scary man ogre i thought about a year ago ...

A teen?

Seriously?

I'm truly living with a man-child.

Fucking hell.

Save me.

I'm Getting Out the Cattle Prod

There was a little bit of panicked entertainment last night.

My dear Papi had a little scare from the post-surgery healing.

We phoned the nurse's line who directed us to go immediately to emergency.

Now, normally, that would be something to panic about, but unfortunately, we're sorta used to being there because of me.

However, I was overjoyed that we weren't going there as a result of my bitch of a back.

I've been in so many times, that I now have a 'rule'.  I am not to be taken to emergency unless my eyes, ears and nose are all bleeding simultaneously.  There was no blood spewing from my head, so I was happy to be going there for mi esposo.

Good times at the hospital.  Let me tell you.

Remember I told you that the nurses, docs and admitting people out in bum-fuck-nowhere could teach the Vancouver hospitals a few things about bedside manner and customer service?

Well, one of my friends who works in a Vancouver hospital said, "That's probably because out in bum-fuck-nowhere, they don't have all the assholes downtown that we have to deal with on an hourly basis."

So true.

I mean, even though my fellow bird of a feather crazies seemed to find me at the hospital in bum-fuck-nowhere, they weren't quite as intense as the people who visit emergency in Vancouver.

oops ... off track ... i'll get to the point ...

My first experience with bringing Papi, was that they weren't going to let me sit with my love.

You know how a cat will relentlessly meow at you for their food?  I was a bit like that last night with the volunteers, nurses and admitting people, because they weren't going to let the 'spouse' be with their better half.

c'mon people! don't you know i'm famous??!? you don't want me to write about you!

Eventually, Papi came out and I was back to happy again.  But damn!  They're lucky I needed a whole wackload of pain killers yesterday.  Those little drops keep me much sweeter to those around me while there's pain shooting down my legs.

Anyway, the most fun was when the admitting nurse saw 'male' on my love's identification, but that Papi was there for possible post-surgery infection due to a full hysterectomy.

This nurse addressed Papi, "Ok, so there's no easy way to ask this ..."

Before the question was answered, she looked up from her computer screen to two Cheshire Cat, shiny, brace face smiles.

Papi relieved her by saying, "I'm a transsexual female to male who just had a hysterectomy."

The woman was much nicer to me after having to ask her embarrassing question.

Well, I got mi esposo lying down to ease the pain, and Papi and I proceeded to spend some quality time together.  This was when my love decided to tell me that I didn't do as good of a job as the g'ma used to when it comes to taking care of him.

well my love, that's probably because i'm not a passive aggressive control freak ... ummm ... well not anymore, that is ...

So, when Papi told me that, I decided that I needed to be more forceful, and not ask if my love would like something.  I should tell my love he's going to have it.

So I tried at the hospital to make Papi drink more water.  I was presented with a stubborn mule who kept turning his head away, in an attempt to evade the glass.

Really Papi?!  This deserved the remark in mi esposo's face, "You fucking bugger!  Do you see?  I do try to take care of you, but you're a fucking manchild and don't let me!"

Yes.

I am a good caretaker.  My love, if you thought you saw caretaking before, you'll be seeing it now with a riding crop in hand.

Perhaps even a cattle prod.

Oh, yes.  I'll be making you drink your water and eat your meals.

Oh, by the way, Papi's going to be fine, as long as he complies with my orders, that is.

There once was this elephant ...

So, as I was saying, our little family has class.

I just got elastics added to my braces.

I now look like the bionic woman under construction.

Last night, my elastic got stuck in my back braces, and Papi tried to unsnag it with tweezers.  There seemed to be more pulling of my inside cheek than pulling of elastics.

The next best part, was when my love would let go of the elastic and the same area Papi poked and pinched with tweezers would get an elastic, "THWACK!!"

The next woeful activity was to remove said elastic, that had at this point, gotten stuck on my front braces.  Well, Papi came in for the kill with the tweezers again, and I had to put the brakes on when I was in fear of my lips from being ripped off.

I took Papi's suggestion and employed the handiest, dandiest, who-knew-i-was-missing-this-in-my-life electric toothbrush.

Up until today, it's bravest mission was to erase the veggie du jour that would be stuck at the back of my braces, just waiting for it's second coming of a meal.

I enjoyed brushing before, but now I feel like I have a weapon!

And a tool.

The handiest, dandiest, who-knew-i-was-missing-this-in-my-life electric toothbrush pushed that bitch right outta there!

I felt like McGiver armed with duct tape.

Anyway, once I had the next round of brace face/rubber mouth set in place I set in motion the dishes saga.  I had to move dishes from our basement suite to the upstairs dishwasher. 

... there's really no pretty way to say i was doing chores ...

That's when I heard probably the sweetest thing I've ever heard in my life.

You see G'ma has a friend who is very good to her and I overheard a conversation:

G'ma: You know I really appreciate everything you do for me.
Friend: Well, you do a lot for me too!
G'ma: Well, you're a good friend.
Friend: Well, you're a good friend to me too!
G'ma: Yeah, well you're my best friend.

This ...

Melted my heart and it may just be me, but when you get to experience a 96 year old expressing BFF love for their friend, you know she's pretty happy over all.

Anyway, back to my brace face.

Today, Lin and I met with film producer Karen Lam and her team for our next video.

Ahem.

Did I mention, I haven't slept yet?

Probably not.

Yeah.

Tired doesn't even begin to express.

Yet it was sure exciting to see the awesome space for our video and hear what the ideas were for the video.

My dark and embracing of mania personality gets to be creative soon.

The funniest part of the video is when they addressed the elephant in the room.  I was asked, "Well, I'm going to ask the question nobody wants to ask; When do you get your braces off?"

I laughed and said with a 'good luck buddy' smile, "Another year."

"Ok!" he said, "So, we're going to get them in as part of the metal aspect.

I like it.

Metal.

Even if it is in my mouth.

Can I get a witness?

How does this make you feel?

I'm sure you know I'll tell you how I feel.

There are penes everywhere.

It's almost become comical!

I was about to start my evening brace face brush and floss and I found another one.

It's a little bit like Easter around here, only the eggs to find are not edible chocolatey goodies of delight.

I like my coconut chocolate balls better than the ones I'm finding strewn around our home.

Oh dear, I got going on a rant about chocolate balls when really I was meaning to talk to you about the next place I found a penis.

Right.

Back on track.

So, I was about to do my evening routine and here's what I found:

If you can't figure out which item does not belong here, then I'm sorry but I can't help you.

Yes.

A penis in my pampering shelf.

I also never really got to show you what the penis looked like that I found the other day.

Here's what I thought would go in the wash:

And here's what I found when I picked it up and realized that there was something squishy inside:

Yes, there was a surprise inside.

I've now been told by Papi that if I see a clump of towel lying around that it's best I don't pick it up.

Oh, my love, this kinda negates your argument about the lack of cleaning skills I have.

Anyway, I just thought I'd share.

I needed a witness to my mayhem of penes in the house.

If I don't go crazy first, it just may be what I need.

Maybe I need to see them everywhere so that I can be ninja girl and realize that they're not going to jump out and attack me.

I will be poised for every surprise penis I find!

Actually, she look a bit like she is holding her taco.

Oh, and by the way?

The World's Loudest Snorer has slept in the bed every night since she's been here.  We worked it out.

She gets to do what she wants and we just accept it.

It's too hard to hear her whimper and cry to be let on the bed.

Good news is though, I'm so fucking tired that I slept through her trying to push me off the bed last night.

I just woke up with a corner, and that was ok by me.

And a big ol' 'Fuck You' to you too.

My braces are too tight to eat and the Brace Face is in full force this morning.

Not to mention my coffee is weak.

But hey!

My love gave me $40 allowance, because I haven't received a penny in 5 weeks.

I thought of finding out the woman's name who hit me almost 3 years ago and asking her if she could spare a little.

Today I'm not feeling very forgiving.

Papi has a ton of new 'friends' on Facebook.  The majority of the 'new' friends are transgender.

Makes sense.  People like people that they can relate to.

Well, yesterday, one of these 'new friends' posted on their status about how the partner in the relationship should keep their mouths shut about how hard it is to see their partner go through a male transformation.

This person's words were something like, "To all you people who are having a hard time with your partners transition, get over it or leave.  It's not about you, it's about the person who's transitioning."

Really, bitch?

Papi and I were pretty sure that was this weasel's response to my blog.

go ahead and hate me, i don't really give a fuck, but thank you for the page hit.

Good thing I'm in a malicious mood today, or that might've hurt my feelings.

Instead of being hurt, I'd like to say fuck you.

You're young and have absolutely no idea what it's like to find your soul mate who is the perfect butch, fall in love, marry them and then find out 4 months later that your butch is being replace with a balding, pot bellied, hairy, middle aged man.

When you're in a marriage, it's about both parties.  You don't get to be selfish and say, "It's all about me."

Well, you could do that, but you'd find out pretty quickly that your marriage is ending and you're left alone.

I'm pretty sure you must be single and bitter, and this is the reason for the pungent taste in your mouth after reading my blog.

I didn't leave my soul mate because he's changing genders.

No, I had to grieve because she was leaving.

The person I married is dying, and I'll now be married to a different body.

So, no.  It is not all about you.

In a relationship, there are 2 people.

One day, you'll grow up and find out what that means, and you can let go of your self-righteousness.

I'm grateful that I've had 10 months to work out my grieving and find strength.

Those words that you spoke are the very words I was afraid people would say when I was first hit with the bomb.

They are hurtful.

However, I'm feeling pretty fucking feisty after finding out what the root of my fear about in this transition, and I'm not hurt.

I'm fucking pissed.

You are the very people that we as partners are afraid of and the reason I started this blog in the first place.

We matter.

Others out there are having difficulty with this, and they're afraid to speak out, lest you say those acrid words and make us feel bad for having natural feelings.

Papi 'unfriended' this immature person, but there are more out there.

We find this defensive attitude everywhere.

How about you remember that we're all in this together?

And again, fuck you.

And a Bow-chica-bow to you too.

Another good side effect of the Medicinal Cannabis is an increased sex drive.

As I'm sure some of you who have the need for anti-depressants know, they can kinda mess with your libido.

Yeah.  True in my case.

However, when my MC Guru first started to help me out on this pain killer path, she didn't go into the horrible side effects, because there really aren't any when taken properly.  She spoke of all the added bonuses you get on top of the pain relief, "You'll be a bit happier and your libido will increase!"

I said, "Hell ya!  I want sum-a-dat!"

'Happier' came within the first day, when the Gma's nagging really didn't affect me at all.  I wasn't muttering under my breath, "Yes, your Highness," then giving a secret one finger salute as I passed the wall.

Then came my libido.

That actually increased after the third day of this new miracle pain killer.

I crawled up on to my love's chest, ever so carefully, so as not to hurt Papi's still healing wounds and just laid there for a moment.

I felt a surging need for a little Papi action, but the bad news was my love had to leave for work.

The next day however, mi esposo woke up earlier from the Graveyard Coma, and after a brief visit with me, toddled off to the bedroom for the usual masturbation session before work.

hey ... our one eyed golden retriever humps his bed after dinner ... papi masturbates before work.  enter here where my love screams from the other room while reading my blog, 'honey!!!!  i can't believe you wrote that for everyone to see!'  but hey papi, you're the reason i have this blog in the first place.  love you ;P

As my love wandered into the room, I was hit with a moment of ardor and wanted to follow Papi into the room.

This is when I heard, "Honey?  Would you like to join me for a quickie?"

hell ya i would!

I ran in nervously, thinking about the 5 Foot Clitoris, wondering if it's odour had changed since the last time we tried to share our love, and crawled upon Papi's chest again.

careful ... careful ... 

From that point onward, I had my love back.  All those feelings of, 'how do I work with this new toy?' left me.

My love took control and gave me what I've been waiting for.  I wasn't afraid of the new scent, and mi esposo wasn't afraid of the, "What if Andréa doesn't find me attractive?" moments.

It was just us again ...

i made sure of it ... the four legged fuzzy family was banished from the room ...

... and we were feeling the passion like it had always been prior to the bomb dropping, and then some.

I didn't want the moment to stop.  I instructed my love on exactly how fast and deep to go.

Now I was finding that devotion to ecstasy I always had, with no boundaries.

We switched over to a vibrator for a little more fun, and I had the best time I've had in a long, 10 month stint.

Only there was one problem.  Papi said, "Ok, so now I need to use it.  Every time you hop on it, you seem to take it over."

i don't like to share ...

But it was beautiful now.  My love instructed me on what to do.  I found it soft and alluring.  The 5 Foot Clitoris was no longer a threat.

I made a new friend.

I would like to visit a little more often now that I have an option for pain killers that won't turn me into a slug, with no interest for anything in life.

However, there is still one barrier between Papi and I that I know will take a long time to overcome.

Brace Face.

Between the two of us, one of us winds up hurting the others tongue or lips, on top of clashing of brace on brace.

Yeah.

That one is going to take a while.  No passionate kisses till those puppies bid adieu.