i yam what i yam

The funniest part about me asking Papi if he is gay, is that he's now backtracking everything he says in terms of the topic.

"I'm just saying I find them attractive, but it's not that I'm gay."

That is just one of the examples.

My love doesn't understand how much I trust him.

If he tells me he's not gay, then I believe him.

However, methinks thou dost protest a tad too much.

hmmmm ... maybe my love needs another panicked wake up to me hovering over him in bed, after accidentally taking too much medicinal cannabis crack butter, and bark out ridiculous questions ... that would be fun ...

But you see, I'm not even asking Papi anything about it.

He'll be speaking sweetly about someone who he admires and out will blurt, "But I'm not gay!"

It's a bit like a game now.

Last night, we were discussing My Boifriend.

He claims to be gay, but is now in full throws of love with a woman.

That doesn't make any sense with the statement that he's gay.

When it comes to being transsexual, it's really only a one sided sexual preference term anyway.

Seriously.

If Papi is now in the 'man zone', and he loves me, outsiders would consider him straight.

But I'm not straight, and I don't consider myself so.

I'm coming to terms with the fact that I'm always going to be who I am, and nothing that Papi has done to his body and chemistry has made me change into someone I don't want to be.

I am a butch loving lesbian.

I have been so since I was a teen.  I've been so since that time that I couldn't really understand the feelings that I was having about the girls on sports teams.

Hott!!

I'd watch them be masculine in their own way.  They didn't know the feelings I had about them being butchy with their basketballs and soccer balls.

good god ... that was wayyyyy too many balls in one sentence ...

The ones I thought were sexy turned out to be straight anyway.  It was only the idea of them being butch that I was attracted to, but I honestly didn't even know what I was feeling back then!

I'd see bull dykes on the bus and wonder why I was getting so hot and bothered.

I thought these emotions were because I wanted to be like them, but this femme could never be butch.

As much as I'm more like a tomboy in every day life, I like playing dress up too much.

I like to sashay my way through a crowd of dykes, in my best ass outfits, in hopes that the butchiest of the butches will notice my overly round booty and appreciate it.

Yes.

I'm a true femme.

And just because I still love mi esposo despite the changes that are taking place does not make me any different than I was when I fell in love with the world's most perfect butch.

Well, I do have to admit, I think a bit differently since the bomb was dropped last year.  I'm growing, learning and accepting so much more about this male transformation.

I guess I'm the lucky one.

I got the last tidbits of the world's most perfect butch.

'She's' all mine.

I see her light in the twinkle of love in mi esposo's eyes.

Nobody will ever take that away from me.

Good Hair Day.

"Do you want me to cut your hair?"

This has to be the most ridiculous question Papi has ever asked me.

Seriously.

My love was actually being sincere.

I don't pay over a hundred bucks to get my hair cut just because I like to spend money.

My honky 'fro definitely needs some professional attention right now, but after I've seen my love's D.I.Y. projects go a wee bit awry, I had to wonder if Papi had perhaps been nipping at my Crack Butter.

cut this hair?!?!?!  not a hope in hell you're getting near my honky 'fro with scissors

The only reason I know he hasn't, is because after my love tried the Crack Butter just once, in hopes that his anxiety would be relieved, he is almost ready to bid adieu to butter all together.

Every time I've had to ask my Crack Butter to dull my nerves' pain, mi esposo goes into a dramatic monologue that sorta goes like this:

"Oh, God!"

**gags**

"That is SO disgusting."

**dry heave**

"I don't know how you can eat that!"

**hacks**

Well, my love, it's a bit akin to how I hate bananas so much that I truly gag every time I eat them, yet I've eaten them when I've had insomnia.

bananas have tryptophan just fyi ...

Anyway, back to my hair, because it's really all about my hair.

I made my hair pretty, because we were supposed to go to a party last night for my sweet friend's housewarming celebration, but Papi had healing issues and had to stay home and rest.

Personally, I was afraid that haters could potentially be going to the party, or I'd have gone solo.

Today is not one of those times I feel safe to go it alone.

I guess I have been affected by the Hen Peckers without realizing it.

Yeah, I may be fine with their mean words on the internet, but actively seeing their dirty looks and jeers?

I have had to do it recently, and it just wasn't my idea of fun.

So, nah.

I can't play that game at this moment.

The saddest part is twofold: a) I let my fear win and didn't get the see one of the sweetest friends I have, and b) my good hair day went to waste.

Damn good thing I didn't get all dressed up with nowhere to go.

Instead, I got to pass by the mirror every half our to enjoy my good hair seeing as how Papi just let me know in a round about way that it's time for a cut.

Sure.

Just as soon I have regular grocery money coming in, a hair cut could happen.

However, there was also some drama time with Psycho Kitty.

Yes, it's that time of year again, ...

... it's been a relaxing 2 days without the g'ma ...

... where we leave the door open between floors, and the kitteh heads roll.

Well, it's really my kitties that get the beatdown.  So far, nobody's fur has been pulled from the root and strewn down the hall.

But tomorrow is a new day.

There may be feline drama tomorrow, or the next day, or the next week, but be assured, fuzzy heads will roll.

Just as long as it isn't The Mrs.

Sperm.

They really shouldn't allow 2 brain injured people who get confused to lead each other around, or they will simply go in circles like a dog chasing it's tail.

Like yesterday.

I drove downtown to meet My Boifriend, who happens to be gay, but has now found a femme love interest, which I suppose would now make him bi-curious?

Anyway, like the classy lady I am, I pulled up to the curb and had him throw his house, or rather stuffed duffel bag, and even more stuffed computer case into the backseat of our vehicle.  The entertaining part was when he bellowed, "You're making me hold up a bus!" with a panicked bark.

of course my dear, that's the way i roll... i like pissing people off ...

After we laughed about the lack of comfort we just encountered, we decided to find somewhere to have our hang out.

Well, here's where it got fun.

We spoke about where we should go before he had to meet up with the next friend.  I'm sure it will be like that for him the entire weekend.  You know how it is.  Too many people who love him and too little time to spread it around.

We decided on coffee and I started driving to my favourite, ethical coffee joint, JJ Bean.  I then realized I'm a little hungry and perhaps he was too, as it was dinner time.  So we aborted the coffee trek and headed to find something wheat and dairy free for my finicky body.

Sounds pretty normal, right?

Well, with 2 brain injured people trying to make choices, we wound up exactly where we started from.

Yup.

One big 360 degree circle of driving.

Next was the decision of which million dollar parking lot to park in.  In downtown Vancouver, a buck will get you a cool 10 minutes.

Anyway, I had decided on a falafel plate for my sinful meal, but when we parked I changed my mind.

such is the life of a brain injured person ... please don't give me options ...

This was fine with My Boifriend.  He's pretty easy.  Well, when it comes to food that is.  I wouldn't know about anything else, considering he's my platonic boifriend.

Mind you, I did have a dream that Papi and him were making out.  Is that weird or what?

Usually I dream about Papi having sex with me, but somehow my mind said it was ok for them to have a go.

Good thing it was a dream.  Wouldn't know how I'd feel about my monogamous soul mate sleeping with my gay, and/or bi-curious-ish, FTM boifriend.

Oh, there I go off topic.  Again.

Topic: food.

We ...

or rather i ...

... did manage to make a decision on Mexican.  We went to Mucho Burrito, where My Boifriend treated me to an evil meal of wheat and dairy free, sodium exaggerated junk food.  It was deliciously bad for me.

The sad part is, this restaurant is on the outer edge of the Davie Village, so the gays, trannies, dykes, and all the other people who will be going to hell with us, tend not to make it into this restaurant.

too bad for you guys! cross the burrard boundary and give it a go! i recommend it!

We had a little extra time before his next social gathering, so we went for a walk in the cool autumn, verging on winter, air.

it was about at this time that i was truly grateful that i had indeed taken 'too much' crack butter.

We went somewhere that I haven't seen yet.  The Vancouver Convention Center at the Burrard Inlet.

And here's what we found:

A big blue sperm.

I'm pretty sure that if Papi and I used this bugger ...

... we would have gotten pregnant and stayed that way!

Anyway, I guess we didn't do too badly for two brain injured people.

We ate, got to where we were going on time, and then I got to come home to Papi, who said more than one word!  It was almost like normal!

It's an improvement.

heal papi heal ... i miss your silliness ...

Ok, so Papi didn't die ...

I think the most entertaining part about the day was that I ate all my food before 3:00.

I eat when I get stressed.  I ate my snack, lunch, dinner and desert all by 3:00.

While we were out in bum-fuck-nowhere, Papi kept asking me, "Are you ok?  Are you scared?  Did you take too much Crack Butter?"

no my love, i did not take enough crack butter ...

I didn't want to tell my love I was nervous, so I had to lie.  "No, I'm fine!" I said as convincing as I possibly could, channeling my inner, perky optimist.

Of course, I was then greeted by, "Good!  'Cuz if you said you were scared, then I'd be nervous!" 

yes, my love ... i do know that ...

The greatest Tranny Terrorist moment of the day award goes to Papi for the last words I heard him say before leaving my side for the surgery, "Oh!  You better kiss me in case I die!"

No, it wasn't a sweet nothing in my ear.  He said it to the WHOLE room.

People chuckled and I shook my head uttering threats, "I will kill you if you die."

Of course this was just a few minutes after I had a near thermo-nuclear melt down with the control freak nurse who must have been a cat in a former life.

"Who moved my cat toy?!?  Why is that door closed!?!  Don't you know I like to be fed here and not there anymore?!  Capiche!?!"

Ok.

She wasn't freaking about cat toys, but she certainly didn't like that I had our knapsacks and personal items were on a wheelchair in her space.

The sweet intake nurse knew my back pain, and he, with his magical moustache, ...

... no seriously ... you have to see this thing to believe it!!! ...

... suggested I use the wheelchair to push my stuff along, rather than try to walk two feet and stop to say, "Ok.  Which way to emergency?  I've put my back out again."

Control Freak Nurse just couldn't handle this foreign article in the nurses' area.  When she realized that I just may cause a stink, she decided to let it go.

Which was a good choice, because that's when I finally gave in to my inner bitch and the rolling of eyes, death stare and deep breathing were activated.

I have to admit though, I was feeling rather edgy when I didn't get to see Papi right away.  Why do they do this to me all the time?!  It's worse than security at an airport sometimes!

I was expecting them to kick me out the room I because Papi wasn't there yet.  You see, after all the coocoos found me at the hospital, I managed to secretly find out what room Papi would be in and flew in there with my knapsack and bag wheelchair home.

I set up camp with my 'house' and when they came in, I said, "So, this is our room right?"

listen ... do you see me eating?  I'm married to the patient ... my room ... 

They kinda just looked at me ready to tell me I had to leave, then changed their minds, because they were sweet, lovely people.

So, I ate the rest of my food.

I then proceeded to listen to Papi snore for the rest of the day.

My love is doing fine and is all kinds of fun to laugh at.

Oh, the droopy face was awesome.

The only problem is that I don't like to leave Papi there.

So, Papi didn't die.

Now I don't have to kill him.

I get to bring him home in just a few short hours.

Introducing, The Galloping Gazelle!

This is The Galloping Gazelle.

He's visiting us for a week.  We're on day one.

He's new to the cat world.

No, I know he's not a cat, nor is he a gazelle.

But he thinks like both.

Well, he decided to take on The Mrs.

The Mrs. is not afraid of dogs, and she will teach him how to behave around a lady.

Unfortunately, like those before him, The Galloping Gazelle just may have to learn the hard way.

However, he thought he'd push his luck and bounded ...

he bounds ... he doesn't run ... imagine a bunny and gazelle mixed in one ...

... toward The Mrs.

What happened next is the part that made me realize he had an unscrupulous ulterior motive when he broke all hell loose and chased cats.

I ran ...

... hehe ran ... you know what i mean ...

... in to break up the kitchen drama.

He listens well, and knowing that he did a 'bad', he bounded back to the couch to my blogging seat.

At this point, I decided to look under the kitchen island to see if The Mrs. was OK about the whole situation.

right ... dream on ...

She was pissed and definitely didn't want my consoling.

"YOU did this to me mom!"

That's when I realized what The Galloping Gazelle's real target was.

My breakfast.

Now, I thought The Bastard Prince was trouble around my food, but The Galloping Gazelle makes The Bastard Prince's  actions seem like child's play!

He's crafty.

And cuddly.

And he makes me laugh.

But back off my breakfast bitch!

I don't share!!!

However, I then realized what I saw in my blogging breakfast.

I found out he's an artist!

He was making an old man's face out of fried eggs!

He wasn't just getting into my food!

His momma taught him to be creative!

of course she did ... momma's a hot li'l leather dyke!

Now I can't stay mad, because he's given me a gift.

Well, I also can't stay mad because I've already shut that bitch of a back up with some Crack Butter, and I'm ready to start my day of composing with a little bit of help from my new BFF: Nyquil.

I'm working on a film score for a cool short.  It's by an up and coming director, James McPhee.

I'm behind a day, because yesterday I slept off the virus.

... i was so sick i didn't even have my coffee!!!!!

 I really have so much to tell you right now, but I'll have to get it out day by day.

With you, my imaginary friend, there will be a new chapter beginning soon ...

The Concert of the MRI

Papi's bad.

Papi gave me the flu.

Papi will receive lashes when I'm feeling better.

Normally, I would just sleep it off, but we've had plans for about a month now to go to Seattle.

I did the film score for Mette Bach's film Ms. Thing, directed by Karen X. Tulchinsky.

So the director, and one of the personalities who acted, S.D. Holman, are meeting Papi and I to see the film at the Seattle Lesbian and Gay Film Festival.

The Yank will join us for the film as well.

So, anyway, we've been planning this for a few weeks, and I feel like crap.

grrrrrrrr ...

Yet, the only thing that would really keep me from going is if my bitch of a back told me we weren't.

or if my ears, nose and eyes were all bleeding simultaneously ...

Anyway, that bitch of a back is trying to tell me she'd rather stay in bed.  So, I shut her up good with a little dose of my Crack Butter.

She would have squawked anyway, whether I was sick or not, so fuck her.

I love going on road trips, but damn, that bitch hates it.

I had my MRI yesterday and I really hope it shows something that can be fixed.  Both my doctor and physio say it won't, but I'm being optimistic and hoping to prove them wrong.

Seriously.

Shut that bitch up.

While I was in the MRI, I was happy on Crack Butter.

i figured out the right dose ... not to be mistaken with the MC OD that i had on friday.

The radiologist corked my ears with plugs, and put little pads on my ears to muffle the 'noise'.

This 'noise' was a samplers dream!

I had the most fun I'd had in a while.

There were about 5 different sounds that took their own turn, and each one of them would last a few minutes.

I found rhythm in each and every one of them, and I also found melodies to sing along.

Just as I'd gotten the song down however, the 'noise' would change.

Due to the free thinking I had going on, when the first 'noise' changed I forgot that I was in an MRI and said, "HEY!!"

I wanted to continue with, "I was listening to that!"

Fortunately, I realized that if I continued, I would look like I was in need of more than just pain relief.

Song after song played, I hummed along, and before I knew it, my concert was finished.

I really want to go back and ask if I could get samples of the sounds that were going on in there.

There were acid, arpeggiated tones that you'd find akin to The Crystal Method or The Chemical Brothers.  If you took one of the 'sounds' from their music, then imagine it going on for 2-3 minutes, that's what it was like.

It was a programmers party!

Anyway, now that the proper dose of today's Crack Butter has set in, I've had my coffee and the Oil of Oregano has made my throat feel like I can speak to humans, I'm going to get ready for the road trip.

I will have to remove Sir Bark-A-Lot from my lap surgically first, I'm assuming.

i think he's just using me for my warm fever ...

I hope you find joy in your day.

I'm pretty sure I will too.