Send In S.W.A.T.

I think the move here has Papi and I living in some kind of battle zone.

I honestly don't know what the hell is going on.

Papi's done enough damage to his own body, and it seems that I'm trying to maim every limb of my own.

Started with Mr. Lumpy, but I guess a boob isn't a limb, is it?

Then I progressed to a dog bite on my hand that had me out of commission of playing an instrument for a week.

Next, we move on to my fucking ankle.  I don't need to say more about that.

Then I burned my calf on a motoconcho exhaust pipe.  It's really nasty.  I'll have to really take good care of it so it doesn't look any more infected than it already seems.

Then yesterday, the pin of my crutch fell out, my crutch crumbled and I fell to the ground giving my bitch of a back a run for her money.  I'm not impressed with the fact that I can barely move my neck today.

Oh, but earlier in the day?

I received another dog bite, this time on my forearm and wrist.

Fortunately, that pain only lasted overnight.  It's feeling much better now.

How did I get a new dog bite you ask?  Or maybe you didn't ask, but I'm going to tell you anyway.

Picture a 4 door Toyota Corolla Sedan.

Now.  Picture a massive crate with two cats in the back.  Got that?

OK.  Now add in 6 dogs, which Papi has lovingly nicknamed, The 6-Pack.

Granted 2 are small, but the other 4?  Including The Donkey?

Yeah.  It was something out of a comedy routine.

We were getting our house fumigated for the problem with ants and termites.

All the animals had to be out with us.

It was quite the task trying to find things to do for 2 hours, but we did it.

Then, as we were 2 minutes from home, The Donkey decided she wanted in the back.

The Thug said, "Fuck you and your big fat ass!" and it happened.

An all out dog fight in a tiny Corolla with The 6-Pack and a crate with 2 cats while I'm going 80 km/hr on a highway.

The cats pissed themselves in their crate and I slammed on the brakes so hard that Papi hit his head on the front windshield.

Still, the dogs continued fighting.

I, being the lunatic I am when they fight, screamed my best Psycho shower scene scream and I did it again; I tried to stop the fight with my hands.

I am so grateful that The Thug isn't out for blood, or there would be more than a puncture on my forearm.

I wouldn't HAVE a forearm if he was actually trying to hurt anyone.

But it was bad enough that I couldn't move my fingers.

We got home and I had to pay the fumigator.  Handing him the money hurt bad enough, but then he wanted me to sign for the receipt.

THEN! he wanted to shake my hand!!!

I was sweating bullets trying to keep a look on my face that didn't say, "I'm a dolt who likes to put my hands into dog fights between a Pit Bull and an Irish Wolfhound.

Last night as I was licking all my wounds, I reclined on the couch wondering what the fuck is going on, when The Thug and The Donkey decided my ankle was the perfect place in which to have a wrestling match.

They twisted it to the side and it is now more swollen and I can barely walk on it again.

Seriously.  What the fuck is going on?  I'm afraid to move for fear of doing anything more.

I was afraid to have sexy time with Papi last night for fear I'd sprain my vagina.

Don't worry.  I didn't.

This morning, I have two massive welts on my leg, from what I couldn't tell you, but it kinda looks like a flesh eating disease, one in the shape of Africa and the other like Great Britain.

I won't even go on about the bug bite that looks like I have a new knee on the back of my thigh.

Send in the S.W.A.T. team.

I need back up.

My mind, body and spirit are united for my highest good

 Gratitude Day 8/10
1. I am grateful my dog bite was only a bruising of the bone.
2. I am grateful for ice packs.
3. I am grateful I didn't sprain my vagina.
4. I am grateful I didn't hurt myself more when my crutch broke.
5. I am grateful I have time to wash my hair today.
6. I am grateful for fresh coconut water.
7. I am grateful I get to look out at the ocean while I write this.
8. I am grateful I can find gratitude every day.
9. I am grateful for this list forcing me to find gratitude every day.
10. I am grateful for dead bugs all over the yard, instead of live ones in my kitchen.

The Case of the Vagina

So, here's a good day in TransLand for you.

Remember when Papi was so sick for 3, almost 4 months?!?!

Yeah. 

That hysterectomy really did a number on my love. 

This meant many tests to find out just what was going on there.

Off we went to emergency, clinics, our own GP etc.  Every time, my dear sweet love would go through tremendous stress to have to deal with these personal invasions.

Well, we got a bill in the mail from our BC Medical Services Plan.

They wanted to charge us for one of the tests.

We have benefits.

This is Canada.

Yet they wanted us to pay?

There had to be some kind of problem.

As we looked a little closer we found the issue.

When they removed my love's uterus, they left the vaginal wall where it should be.

No surprises.

Point is, my love has a vagina.

The problem for the health system, was that they had a 'male' identified person going in for a test who needed a vaginal culture.

If you look below the 'total' we were expected to pay, you'll see the details.

"Your gender registered at MSP is incorrect."

Can you imagine the person who received the details of the individual for this test?

A male identified person with a vagina?

How utterly confusing for someone who has no idea about the transgender experience.

But how absolutely hilarious for us.

I think Papi and I giggled for a good hour about this one.

Your gender registered at MSP is incorrect?

Interesting.

So nice that one person in our health care system is able to make that judgement without having any idea about medicine whatsoever.

Stick to your day job creep.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, yes, I did indeed write a lovely fuck you email to the skank who thought it was appropriate to laugh at someone in a wheelchair with a brain injury.

Then I blocked her and anyone else who is on my friends list that could allow the scum of the earth to see my Facebook page and laugh at someone for their misfortunes.

i attract good into my life

The time is right.

About two years ago, Papi and I were trying to get pregnant.  I haven't spoken to 'you', my imaginary friend about it, because it was quite a sore subject.  However, I feel this is the right time to do so.

We were so thrilled when the first time we tried to conceive, I managed to actually get pregnant!

Bingo!  Blammo!  There ya go!

Yeah.  Unfortunately, it ended with a big bang as well.  When we went for our first ultrasound, we were overjoyed, glowing parents, excitedly waiting for our turn in the waiting room.  We were completely unaware that the Pit of Doom was going to drag us to darkness that day.

As I lied there with my feet in stirrups, we eagerly waited to hear the first sound of our baby's heartbeat.  Only, the nurse told us it wasn't there.

We didn't really know what that meant.  We both had thoughts stirring in our mind about why there wasn't a heartbeat.

Maybe the sound for the machine was broken?

Maybe the baby was situated in such away that made it hard to make out?

Our minds swirled with irrational ideas to keep us safe and happy.

However, there was no denying it when she showed us that we should be able to actually see the heart as well.

We were devastated.  Papi was thoroughly distraught and the only word that would come out of my love's mouth for the next few moments was, "No!"

From there, we needed to make an appointment to have the deceased baby removed from my body.  It was a horrible time where the first DNC didn't work.  This was followed by being in and out of emergency a few times from an excruciating miscarriage that wasn't supposed to be happening.  Finally, the 2nd DNC completed the job.

echos ... 'you're starting to show' ... still intruding my fragile mind 

After all the trauma, I didn't think that I would want to try again, but you know me.  Nothing stops me when I have my mind made up.

We tried again 3 months later, after many anti-depressant pills, and a uterus that seemed to be working fine again.  Only this time we had a local friend/pornographer document the procedure.

Yes.

You heard me right.

Pornographer.

Well, the entire thing was caught on film, including the sex that is important to making a baby, because your body is more open to the turkey baster method when you're doing the deed.

This brings us to last night.  We went to see the short film of our baby making escapade on the big screen, along with a theatre where every seat was filled.

It was nerve wracking, and my love and I slumped in our seats trying to disappear.  I was shrinking because people were going to see my vagina up close and personal, never mind the fact that they'll also see what my face looks like during sex.

Papi, was slithering down his seat because my love can't stand to hear his own voice on film.  My love could care less about people seeing mi esposo's sex act.

The film was very well done.  It had a split screen, where the left side was the evolution of getting the donor's sperm, the process to prepare it, and the verbal account of our journey.  The right side was for the voyeurs who wanted watch the down 'n dirty show.

I really only watched the left side.  I've seen myself having sex before, so it didn't really interest me.  I was enthralled by the fact that this was a time prior to my love telling me there would be a male transformation in my life.

I hypnotically watched my love's breasts.  They were so beautiful.  A vision of my butch confined to film.  If I ever wanted to see the person I married before top surgery, I now have the opportunity to do so.

Then there was also a scene of me walking with a cane.  I had a weak stagger from brain injury, still not having rewired my brain, and was unable to walk in a stable manner.

The whole thing was surreal.

Breasts, a cane, a baby making session.

Well, we didn't get pregnant on this next try.  I'm pretty sure it was because I needed to be on anti-depressants, lest I commit suicide from my chemical imbalance whispering seductive words about how living is the true hell the zealots speak of.  Studies show that anti-depressants make it harder to conceive.

My love and I accepted this fact eventually, and decided that when we move to the Dominican Republic, there will be many children who really need a home, and we will try to adopt there.

I don't really need a mini-me running around.  It would have been cute to see a blonde, curly headed, tiny version of myself.  However, I'd love another little being that needed me and called me 'mom' just as much.

Anyway, I've been meaning to tell 'you', my imaginary friend about this difficult time in my life, and now was the right time.

I was grateful to have seen where my love and I have come from and where we are now.  It made me love Papi all the more.

It was such a beautiful night filled with loving friends, talented film makers, and memories to remember.

Oh.

And porn.

Bargain.

We've spent the past 2 days driving back and forth from Seattle to start the refilling of our home.

I have done nothing from my 'todo' list, and it's making me very cranky.  I need 'me' time.  I need to feel like I've accomplished something in my day, or I get negative.

But the flip side is, I've spent 2 lovely days with Papi, and that has been wonderful.

And crazy.

When you're driving 3 hours each way, two days in a row, with two opposing thought processes, there's quite the 'spiel' going on.

And the car blasted with chatter.

My love had time to express feelings that were going on in that sweet, emotional mind.

For instance, why I wouldn't touch that fuzzy caterpillar under my love's nose, yet I had the urge to do so with my high school buddy.

Oh, but there was more!

It hurt my love that I didn't stroke this downy fur, but that conversation also turned into communication about my love's bruised ego, since I haven't gone near other body parts.

I am healing and learning a lot about my fears during this male transformation, but obviously not fast enough for Papi.

"It hurts that you won't look at my pussy and touch my facial hair."

It breaks my heart when I cause my love pain.

I reached over and stroked that furry little animal...

the one above papi's mouth, get your mind out of the gutter

... that I can't seem to keep my eyes off of.

It really was soft.

It was just like I envisioned how my friend's in high school would feel.

I was successful, and it made my love smile.

I'll have to go exploring my love's changing 5 Foot Vagina another time, as the next 2 days will be spent driving to the Okanagan with my mother.

that will be something to talk about i'm sure!

Anyway, I digress, but there is also that shaggy chin hair that's protruding.  My love needed to talk about that too, however the moustache was where I drew the line.

What we had gone down for was an island for our kitchen.  The first day we visited Seattle, my love went alone while I got pampered with a new tattoo.

When the newest addition of art was almost finished being etched into my skin, Papi stormed in to the tattoo parlour, angry that the island my love wanted was too far in the back of the warehouse for them to pull out in an instant, and that we'd have to come back the next day.

hence, 2 days in the U, S of A.

On this second day, I went with my love and saw the size of the island my love had chosen.

"Hell no!  We don't live in a mansion my dear!  This thing's huge!!!!"

"But it's the one I want."

ah the spoiled brat has spoken ...

"Honey, you're not the one cooking in the kitchen all day.  NO!"

So, then the bargaining came.

We found one that I said would fit, and my love come's out with, "Ok.  We'll get this one, but when we get home and measure it and the one I wanted would fit, you have to touch my chin hair.  If I'm wrong, I'll cook you dinner."

Fair deal.

I don't think I'll be touching that chin hair any time soon.

The woman of the house is always right.

:)

Time for an expedition.

It hurts Papi that I'm scared.

I don't ever want to be the one to hurt my love.

I suppose it's only balanced that if I'm hurting, then my love gets a dose of the poison as well.  We do share the same thoughts, after all.

My love just wants me to explore, and feels crushed that I won't go anywhere near the growing 5 foot vagina.

I know logically it's not going to be like that, but my brain is a funny thing ... even without a brain injury, I have always jumped to worst case scenario.

If you know me personally, I'll do my best to have you believe that most of my reasonings are positive thoughts.  It's a defense mechanism to battle my pessimism.

When I first got clean and sober, I wrote positive affirmations in a little red book all day long.  When a bad thought would come in, I'd write it out as a positive.

Eventually, the words that left my mouth would come out like that too.  I trained myself to switch the negative to the positive.

It worked for many parts of my life, and soon I realized that I don't need to be afraid of the emptiness of the future, because everything works out.

i hate the unknown .. i like order ... i want control dammit!!!!

If I look at every horrible, difficult, heart wrenching time in my life, I can see that they indeed have all worked out.

I do get my fair share of disaster around the twists and turns in this existence.  I get a little more doom than the average person, so I've had lots of practise.

I guess all the adversity is to prove to that scared little girl inside that she doesn't need to worry about what's in store for her, because it will all work out.

ok little one ... stop fretting about the fact that the universe never ends and go to sleep ...

It always does.  One way or another.

However, it's the 'other' that haunts me now.

I can make positive affirmations all I want, but the terror that my 'wife' is leaving me, replacing that wonderful person with a stranger to my eyes, is much too real.

I just keep staring into the smokey blue peepers of mi esposo and the positive comes back.

Those gorgeous windows to my love's true nature are the positive prove that everything is going to be ok.

"Can I just explore without any sex attached to the experience?"

Papi looked surprised, "Yes!  I didn't mean for us to have sex!  I just want you to see how it looks before it gets any different.  It will be too much for you then if you wait too long.  You need to watch the changes."

"But I can only deal with one thing at a time.  I can't take all of it at the same time."

My love understands, yet Papi's tears were being held down in agony, with the realization that the woman mi esposo loves is afraid of one aspect of the body that used to be cherished from head to toe.

I have to go on an expedition.

It's time to rediscover the embodiment that surrounds that beautiful spirit I love so much.

Time to take a step on that path.

Balance, don't fail me now.

Quite the day, I'll tell ya.

"Don't you think you should touch it before it becomes something that will traumatize you?"

Meekly, I answered, "I'm too scared."

the 5 foot vagina is coming.

Papi tried to reason, "It's just a swollen clit."

Ok, maybe it is.  Been there ... had that, but I just wanted to enjoy the fact that I'm not being triggered every time we have sex.  I just wanted to enjoy Papi.

don't take this away from me my love!  i just got you back!

At the beginning of this day, Papi woke up and told me we're going on a road trip.  Just a day trip, but to beautiful Whistler mountain, only a few hours north.

Brain injury prevailed.  I forgot that we were going to a higher altitude, which means snow.

duh!  it's a fucking ski mountain!!!

With my mind being so much more simple now, I dressed for the Vancouver weather outside my door.

Goddamit it I was fucking cold up there, but it was so beautiful.

It was during my putting shoes on that Papi wanted to bring 'it' up.  Tears welled as I told my love it means my 'wife' is getting closer to leaving me.

"I just don't want to lose you so fast."

please don't cry!  i want to look pretty for our day trip.

Mi esposo was standing talking to me while I was sitting.  I felt like the child was being scolded.

"Can you please sit, sweety?"

After getting out the words about my love leaving me by taking more hormones, Papi surprised me with, "If it's hurting you this much, I'll talk to my doctor and see if I can stay on this dose."

We'll see.  Papi HAS promised other things about the hormones before and reneged.

Off we went, with dogs in tow, to the great white north!  I'm a terrible Vancouverite.  It's only the third time I've been to Whistler and it's right in my back yard!

Well, it's mostly because I don't ski, but you don't really have to be a skier, snowboarder, etc to see this beautiful corner of our province.

After the dogs had their day in the snow,

(oh dear one eyed retriever, how sweet it is to see you roll in the powder ...)

... it was time for dinner, and we had a really shitty experience at the first restaurant.

Papi had time to accost me about 'it'.  I froze again.  I could only answer my love's questions with nods of the head, or shaking it back and forth.

Most of the time it was a nod of the head, due to our being able to know what the other is thinking now.  It's creepy!!

Now to the second restaurant, filled our bellies, and with sleepy dogs, we began the drive home on that long windy highway, yet more processing commenced.

"I don't think you should come with me to the appointments anymore."

"But I want to support you!"

"But it traumatizes you every time you go.  I can bring someone else."

"Then I won't feel like I'm the one supporting you."

Very gently Papi said, "But sweety, you kinda don't support me in this anyway."

dagger to my heart

In the silence, knowing that this would have hurt me, my love said, "I know you're trying really hard, and you're doing really good, but do you have to put yourself through more difficulty?"

I just can't imagine not being there for every step of this journey for my love.  Even if it kills me, I just don't know if I could handle it being someone else that Papi uses as the support person.

It was a lot of dealing for one day.

Today I have to let my heart take it all in.  What a day.

O gawd.

Here it comes.

I go with my love to an appointment today.  The hysterectomy doctor.

Today may prove to be difficult.  I'm going as support for Papi, but my stomach is not happy.  I need something to support my stomach.

what about me?

This is just a consultation, but it signifies so much more.

Another step towards the abyss.

Another step toward losing my 'wife'.

Yesterday, we went out for brunch with a couple on my Trust List.  I was amazed at how I was able to joke around about 'it'.

Mind you, it was expected of us.  We were at The Elbow Room.  This is a restaurant where you have to have your wits about you, as the staff are instructed to verbally abuse you in any way they see fit.

When I told the fine fag I was allergic to wheat, and could I please have hashbrowns instead of a muffin, he stated, "Well, not having your regular muff must be hard for you!"

I retorted with a sideways thumb point at Papi, "Yeah, well, this one's transgendered, so I don't get it anyway."

I couldn't believe that I joked about 'it'!

damn!  who's that girl?! 

Then we openly spoke with our friends and the flamboyant waiter about the whole process.

It was a rather quiet day at the diner of debasement.  The lovely gentleman got to be himself a little, letting his corrupted character of the show have a well needed break.

He was very sweet.  I gave him a free 'Bitch, Bitch, Bitch' cd :)

Papi forgot that I'm sensitive about the mutilation of that beautiful body I love, and did the 'whoosh' action that kills me so much.  There was a quick reminder and then an apology.

All in all though, I was surprised at myself.  I am getting stronger.

Maybe my Trust List friends are right.

Maybe I am stronger than I think.

Well, here we go ...

I must eat and leave with my love.

I hope my food stays put.

Ah, Cupid ...

... that little imp!

He shot us with a dose of love and sent us straight to our makeshift bedroom for bad behavior.

It didn't hurt that Papi bought me a brand new bunny pearl for a VDay gift.  It wasn't the actual Bunny Pearl brand, but it was worth a go with the Rainbow Rabbit.

Rainbow Rabbit is a little bigger than the Bunny Pearl.  Hehe.

It'll do.  Definitely.  It did.

Papi wasn't even supposed to buy me anything! 

Remember that day that I didn't have the brain power to figure out my love was going to work?  In between the hots and colds of suffering through that shift while still having the flu, mi esposo brought a colleague in to a sex shop to buy me something.  It was the only store open on that late, late Saturday night.

My love came out with the Rabbit and a deck of cards with transitioned F-Ms on them.  The latter was a joke to taunt me.

Mi esposo is a cheeky bugger, I'll tell ya.  Just another reason I love Papi.

So, on our non-electronic day of cherishing each other, we went out for heart shaped pizza, sans cheese for me, and my love had the usual potato skins and pizza crust with parmesan.

Of course, having wheat is problematic for me, as it will cause me to fall asleep involuntarily, but I managed to keep it together (with the exception of a very cranky tummy) for the day.  I'll also be washing my face double time with my 'special water' to be sure those hives don't turn into full on boils.

Sexy, no?

We played card games with our new cards and we each blew the other one out of the water with our choices in games, then Papi conceded on the last one because it was time to numb out and watch our Monday night show of House.

The wheat got the better of me quite early.

I went to bed, leaving a sad faced esposo downstairs, alone for the remainder of the night.  It was the same eyes I get when I leave the dogs for the day!  Talk about feeling the meany!

My intention was to give Papi a 'sext' to lure my love up behind me, but that damn stomach from the wheat!  It was not smelling like romantic rose petals in my vicinity I'll tell ya.  I opted not to embarrass myself with the decision to invite Papi up.

Then came the text from my love apologizing for it not being a romantic day.  I bit the bullet and thought, "Dammit!  I can keep that stomach calm for a jaunt, I'm sure!"

"You can make it up to me by taking the Rabbit for a test run." :)

And we did.

And there was no fear.

And I finally got my love back.

And I held the stomach together during the romp.

Phew!!!

One thing though; I'm still not ready to go inspecting the 5 foot vagina to see what's going on down there.  Good thing Papi didn't want any action on this day.

It was all about me.

And it truly was the best Valentine's Day I could have ever asked for.

Thank you Cupid.

The love is back.

Let's talk about sex

So, it's time to put the adult content warning on my blog.

Papi thinks I should be on anti-anxiety medication.  Oh, that's not why we need youngins to have consent to read this.  I promise I'll get to that shortly.

Anyway, I doubt my doctor is going to go with giving me this medication.  I asked for medicinal marijuana for my back pain and was confronted with a very large no, "We're not going down that route."

Hell, I must be a well recovering addict, because I took her 'no' as gospel.  If I wanted to be the practising addict, I'd just go and hook myself up with some off the street and cook it myself.  I still remember how to do that.  The brain injury didn't knock that one out of my head.

I obey you, oh goddess of medicine.

However, I know damn sure that if I asked for one of the 'pams' for anxiety, she'd look at me with her head tilted down and eyes looking up, bearing a hole into me with invisible laser beams like a librarian who's given too many 'shhs' to a certain individual.

That would be a 'no' as well.

Besides, I'd like to be able to get through all of this without relying upon magic pills et al.  I'm on enough right now as it is.  I wouldn't want to go back a step in feeling like a walking pharmacy like I did for a year after the accident.

Jeeeezus!  I was jacked up pretty good then.

Yesterday's anxiety was that Papi isn't going to love me after the male transformation.  It's like I think that all of what my love stands for is going to be erased.

Some of this stems from the love encounter we had where mi esposo smelled like a stranger and I was feeling like someone else was on top of me.  I wasn't in a great place to be going and having sex, but we did it anyway, and I admitted the feelings to Papi.

Those feelings, combined with a certain person sobbing uncontrollable for weeks on end, brought our sex to a halt.

I know that my love will have changes to another body part that I just haven't mentioned yet.

Clitoris.

Oooh ... scary adult content ... but I don't need crazy mothers going postal on me and having this blog taken down for talking about a natural body part.  They freak out about my love's bare breasts bad enough!

My love's clit will grow because of the hormones.  I really don't know why this instills fear in me, but it does.  It's just another part of that poison that makes me feel nauseous.

I tried using my humour about it with mi esposo in hopes that my brain would take it lightly.

"You're going to have a 5 foot long vagina!"

Papi liked that one.

Yet, this is one of the changes that has me  **ahem**  a 'little' dismayed and here's where it gets complicated; stress.

I'm stressed about Papi's 5 foot long vagina and my love is stressed that I'll be stressed during sex.

We're stuck watching this hamster wheel turn around and around.  Nobody wants stressful sex!

I desperately asked, "So now what do we do?" in hopes that Papi had the answer.

I received a delicate, "I don't know."

I know there's women out there that are absolutely thrilled about transgendered people.  I mockingly call them 'tranny chasers'.

They could swoop right in with their sex machines revving and pull mi esposo into a twirling maelstrom of lust, and I just sit here thinking about the 5 foot long vagina.

The paranoia of Papi no longer loving me went up a notch last night.

My love took a pain killer that doesn't work so well with Papi's emotions.  Every time that demon of a pill gets put into mi esposo's blood, I reap the negative effects.

It seems that when Papi takes this pain med, signs of impatience about my lingering brain injury appear, and I'm left in sorrow because there's nothing I can do to speed up this process of healing.

Last night I was left in tears and walking as quietly as I could in hopes that I could magically walk on air, possibly continuing to the stars.  I'm still too weak to defend myself.

I jumped straight to Papi has fallen out of love with me because we're having a little blockade about sex, that the age old 'lesbian bed death' has arrived, that Papi will no longer desire me because I'm stressed about making love.

Mi esposo ensured me through the apologies that the crankiness was strictly due to the pain meds.  I know that this is the same thing that happens every time Papi takes those, but this time there's more involved.

Where do we go from here?  This has to be healed quickly, because I'll tell you, I desire my love more than anyone I've ever been with.  Our connection is so strong, that even during our lull I think about sex with Papi every day, and when we have those sweet kisses I feel the electricity.

We can't lose this.

There is so much work to do around 'it', but I've got to work fast.  I need to keep mi esposo's sexual attention before one of the Tranny Chasers snaps it away from me.

Last night, Papi read my blog and answered my question about the prize at the end of the maze.

I don't get a cookie.

Papi said, "You get me."