non-consensual flogging

We only wanted to have fun.

We wanted to experience a cultural celebration called 'Carnival'.  It is a month long celebration of Dominican Republic independence.

We took a chartered bus to La Vega with locals for the excursion.  That was fun.

The people we traveled with were lovely.  One man, whom I'm sure is in the closet, needed a hairband for his braids.  I obliged.

Moments later, he gave me his bracelet, simply because I told him I liked it.

There was singing and carrying on, and of course an en route visit to an outhouse so I could practise my Dominican squat.

When we arrived, I noticed vendors selling footballs of varying colours, filled with water giving them solid pressure.  I couldn't understand what they were for, so I simply shook my head when anyone tried to sell me one.

Many people had them, but to me they seemed pointless, until we meandered through the crowd, and I would randomly be hit in the ass by them.

It really hurt and I was stinging from the floggings within minutes of arriving there.

But it was time to go to the parade where my eyes were treated to colours of costumes that were incredible!

Gorgeous!  My only intention was get every costume on my video to show everyone the detail that went into these outfits.

I found out later why every single costume had an evil face.  They were the Diablos Cojuelos, and demons they were.

As I tried to film these demons, it donned on me as to why I was occasionally hit by these strange footballs by various men in the audience.

I began to be brutally belted by the Diablos Cojuelos.

When I was hit by one, I would turn around from the pain to protect myself, only to be hit by another man standing waiting for his turn to beat me.

They hit me with those rock solid footballs with all their strength.

This I know because I saw how hard they hit other women as well, and in a country where you're born with a baseball bat in hand, the swing is strong.

Yet, the women around me only received a seldom hit.

I stood out in the crowd because I am a gringa with blonde hair.  I was a target, and my beatings were repeated well beyond 20 times.

No matter where I went, children and men would attack me with these balls.

At one point, I found a tree and stood in front of it, pressing my ass up against it with my arms fastened tightly around the back in hopes I would be safe.

There was even a point where I was being chased by a few of the Diablos Cojuelos through the crowd, and people parted to give them access to get to me.

Then they cheered as I was assailed repeatedly.

One of the hits I took was so painful I came close to vomiting and passing out within seconds.

Someone told me to sit down, but I was in so much pain, I couldn't even sit to save myself.  I explained this only to have them laugh, thinking I was kidding.

I was in tremendous pain, so much so that it hurt to walk and I could feel the swelling of welts through my shorts.

Inflammation of blood created pressure as it bled beneath my skin, and even the lightest touch from someone brushing against my ass sent pain shooting through my mid-section.

There was one more problem:  I still had to get back to the bus for 6 o'clock.

As I darted through the crowd, I did my best to keep my backside protected by grandmothers, food carts, walls and trees.

I was in full panic anticipating the next beating, looking over my shoulder in fear for 2 hours.

During the weaving in and out of the crowd, still being occasionally hit by anyone who had enough space to do so, we found our group.  The tour guide for the day was sweet enough to give me a barrier to watch for anymore sneak attacks.

Our group on the bus really didn't understand the gravity of the attacks I endured.

Girls told me they hurt as well, but they sat on her bus seat pretty easily, and jumped around with energy.

It took me quite a bit of time to finally settle into my seat.

I had to do it millimetre by millimetre until my entire ass was placed.  I sat, breathing through the pain.

We finally got home from our long day at Carnival and I went straight to the bathroom mirror to look at how badly I was violated.

Here is the 'end' result:

However, yesterday, it was even worse.  The bruising has spread down my legs and the the sides of my hips, and it's almost impossible to find any white skin back there.

I don't think I'll be going back to 'Carnival'.  I'm done.

I'm also not too sure about being in large gatherings with men here anymore.

It's too unpredictable and I don't feel safe.

my life has value and others appreciate who i am

and they judge me for having a wall ...

I just saw a man in his underwear!

And it wasn't Papi.

It was my Plumber Friend, and no he didn't have butt crack.

He's in our pool, putting in a piece that has fallen out.

Here, in the Dominican Republic, men don't always use a bathing suit.

Definitely, the majority of the children don't.  Mostly because they don't have enough money for one.

Men and children just strip down to their boxers or tighty whities and jump on in.

The first time we invited Our Unadopted Child into the pool, we were a little taken aback that he just pulled down his pants and in he went.

We understood pretty quickly, that it's because this family doesn't have money for a swim suit.  They're used to it.

Most toddlers don't have diapers, they just run around in their little undies until they have an accident, mom pulls off the offending ginch, dips the child into the communal bathtub and puts on a new pair of drawers that had been drying from the last piddling episode.

A lot of toddlers just run around naked.

Gotta pee?  No problem.  Do what all the other males do.

Side of the road, in plain view.  No, don't try to hide your 'man zone' or anything.

This Canadian Queen will get used to it.

Prince Papi just laughs as I cringe and wanna click my heels to get back to Vancouver, for just that moment.

Maybe I need a teleporter.  That would be faster, and I could just come back when they're done.

In Canada, they'd be fined.

Here, the police don't care.  They probably do it too, when they're not in uniform extorting people.

Anyway, I'm not used to it.  At all.

It's fine with the wee ones.  They're not going to trigger my P.T.S.D.

Especially the cutest one I ever saw, running around with nothing on but gumboots, that were definitely a size for an adult.

Sometimes, I wish I could have my video camera perched 24-7 to have caught that one.

However, it's not a good idea here.

It will get nabbed and there will be no more YouTube show.

Papi has decided that we need to get more dangerous with our videos and go into places that are potentially a threat to our well being.

He says we need to up the ante on our movies.

OK.  Fine.

You wanna do that, YOU are the one holding the camera.  They might not think of stealing it from you because in this country, tattoos mean you've been in jail.

Imagine their first thoughts of me?  A female criminal?

It's not the same as in Canada, where there are many women desperate enough to be corrupt and wind up in jail.

Here, the men do the big stuff, with guns and masks, and the women do it covertly, like stealing your toothpaste one squirt at a time.

Yesterday, the women in my village made sure I knew that the night before, there was a gringo bound and gagged at gunpoint, while the thieves stole everything from her house.

She lives just a few doors down from us.

She doesn't have a gun.

She doesn't have a wall.

She doesn't have cameras, or dogs and she was all alone.

They got her and there are no police here to come and help her.  They'd probably send Mr. Extortion to tell her to give them money just to rub salt in the wound.

I know that everyone in Vancouver's 'community' who judged me, then abandoned me for putting up a wall probably don't read this blog anymore, because I'm now labeled a horrible person.

But you know what?

It wasn't me that got attacked.

So fuck all of you, who think that just because you read a book or went on a holiday to a developing country, you know how it works here.

I'll be holding my gun a little closer.

i stand firmly in my belief in myself

Gratitude List, Last day.  Have you been keeping up with yours?
1. I am grateful we have security in place to deter the thieves.
2. I am grateful for the rain to feed the plants in the yard.
3. I am grateful to have electricity for 2 days in a row!
4. I am grateful for the warmth to heal my back.
5. I am grateful for the good people here who restore my trust.
6. I am grateful to have eaten well for 2 days.
7. I am grateful to be feeling stronger.
8. I am grateful for the love of puppies.
9. I am grateful for the love of friends.
10. I am grateful for this list and that I doubled it up for a bit.  It really helped.

Mr. Extortion was back.

The roosters are crowing.

The sun is shining.

I'm moving from this lying down place to the outside to watch the pool get built.

It's my new TV.

Here's yours: episode 2.

Yesterday, Mr. Extortion showed up in our yard again.

At first I was thinking to myself, "What the fuck are YOU doing in MY fucking yard!?!?!" and was about to ask him such.

Then I remembered I can't take the guy on.  He's corrupt and fucking scary.

But that didn't stop me from having Pissy Face.

My Pissy Face wasn't as covert as Papi would have liked, prompting him to say, "You are looking really upset.  Stop it."

To which I replied, "It's my fucking house and my fucking yard.  I can have any fucking face I want on MY fucking property."

The reason I was mostly angry, was Mr. Extortion just showed up unannounced and was hanging out with our house maid, all best buddy, chatty chatty.

Smiles wide.

You know why?

They both had on beautiful new clothes.

Other than his designer jeans and fancy man top, dude had on a brand new pair of gorgeous white Doc Martins.

Hell.  I can't afford that.

Know why?

BECAUSE HE TOOK ALL OUR FUCKING MONEY!!!!

So, there they are, all decked out in brand new duds and I'm sitting in an 2nd hand dress that is destroyed by way of her fucking bleach.

They sure looked nice in their new clothes.

Apparently, he was here just to 'make sure nothing NEW was being done'.

They are not the suffering developing world people I thought they were.

Nor are they are ever using Papi or I for any more cash.

Then she crossed the line.

When it was time to talk to our plumber, who is my biggest hero in the world right now, ...

... damn it's nice to have a warm shower again!! ...

... the house maid decided that she would follow Papi in to eavesdrop on their conversation about how much we're being charged for our water to be fixed.

Fortunately, he told Papi he'd tell us tomorrow, so she didn't get the inside scoop.

But damn.

She's really making herself at home here.

She lived here for 11 months while the house sat empty, so she feels like it is hers.

It's not anymore.

And bringing in strangers who's husbands are in jail, not to mention Mr. Extortion is really not cool.

There will be some changes around here, because now I'm so fucking angry that I have no qualms about telling her what I expect out of an employee.

We will never be giving her any more than the money we give her while she's employed.

Which isn't for much longer.

Her family is not our DR Family any longer.

Let me tell you.

I am so angry, that after all was said and done and there was nobody left in our yard, I ate an entire bag of corn chips in seconds flat.

I hate it when I have an angry eating episode, but even more horrible is the fact that I was so nauseas from eating all the crap!!!

OK.

So, I got that off my chest.

Now I'm going to go outside and watch the concrete dry.

i let go of my anger so i can see clearly.

Our DR Family

The first day we arrived here, the housekeeper was so damn sweet.

She had figured out how to say, "Welcome to your new house, Hector and Andréa."

Here, in the Dominican, people can't say Papi's name very well, so when they look at a document with our last name on there, they immediately jump to thinking his name is the first part of our last name, 'Hector-Brown', and call him 'Hector'.

So, our non-English speaking housekeeper made a cute little sign that had our welcome on it.  You'll be able to see it in Episode 2 of our YouTube reality show!

Right now, as I write this, I'm uploading Episode 1.  I'll tag it on here when it's actually finished uploading.

Anyway, on top of making us a sign, she also had a meal of rice and fried eggs ready for us.

Lotsa salt!!  Holy!!  But we were so damn hungry and tired, we ate it with zeal!

They are so incredibly sweet.

When the internet person came to hook us up, she came running down the road to make sure he was a 'bueno persona' because she's so protective of us.

This wasn't even her working day!

She just wanted to make sure she knew the person who was in our house, because she wants us to be safe.

She is definitely our DR Family.  She comes by to help us without pay.  Just to 'help' us.

One of her 4 boys, the smallest one, will bring me fruit fresh off the trees and the smile on his face as he gives me a mango is incredible.

He is so proud to be able to give me something and it shows.

He has nothing, but to make me happy with a mango made his (and my) day.

We really haven't had a chance to rest, until now because I'm so sick I can't do anything.

We run around to get the puppy better, get the cat his dental surgery, get the internet, get our cable, cleaning supplies, food etc.

Oh, update on the stove.  We now have one burner!  So I made us a nice pasta meal last night with meat sauce.

Not that I got any nutrition out of it.  It just went through me, but it felt good to put something other than corn chips in my yack.  I'm sure you don't want to hear about how I'm living on the toilet.  I've resolved to not eat anymore, so that I can have a rest from being sick.

Anwyay, there are so many 'priorities', it's hard to figure out what is first!!

~ Stove fixed.
~ New bed so I'm not in agony.
~ New doors that bandidos can't just push open because the hinges are rotted from the sea.
~ Bars on the windows so that we can sleep with fresh air.
~ Taps that work, water pressure AND hot fucking water for a shower people!!
~ Lights.  Oh, we have about 3 that work.
~ Dressers so we can finally put away our clothes.

There's more.  Oh, so much more.

However the 'more' is really just stuff that would make our lives 'nice'.  Like a lounging chair to sit in the sun.

I tried putting my towel out on the grass just to lie in it, but soon found I had laid right next to one of 100 ant chambers that are in our yard.

That 'relaxing' moment was short lived as I ran screaming patting myself off.

Then we got a hammock.

I lie elevated, however, I can't type on my computer while I'm out there, because we don't have a wall up yet.  The bandidos will see our computers and rob us, so we hide indoors.

Oh our wall?  In order to have a wall, we have to pay off the commissioner!  They say, "No!  You may not put up a wall and destroy our scenery for our native people!

That's sweet and all, but they will let us do it for a 'fee' of $2,500.

Yup.

Bribery works here like gang busters.

Anyway, yes, we are off to a rough start, but my Eternal Friend, who just moved back from a 3rd world country giggled in an email, asked me if I really believed it would be easy.

I suppose I knew it would be work.  Just not this hard.

I'm trying very hard to stay optimistic and know what I've always known.  Things will always get better.  Always.  They always do.

giving up is easy.  i will delay the urge, just for today

Here's your Sunday morning bitch.

Getting a new computer is time consuming.

Not only do you have to make sure you've successfully transferred everything from your last computer, but you also have to play around to find all the new bells and whistles!

I've been sucked into the vortex of the new computer netherworld!

Yet, it's not all fun and games, and I'm sure you'd know I have something to complain about or I just wouldn't be me, now would I?

So, here's a few beefs I have about my new Mac computer.

Why the fuck doesn't Apple have a 'Word Document' option?

They won't even let me use my old 'Word' application from my last computer, because it's too out of date.

What do they care?

Why make it useless if you're not even going to give us another one?  Everyone who uses Mac uses Microsoft Word anyway!

Oh.  They'll give us the good for nothing 'GarageBand'.

Ok.

I guess it's not meaningless for people who can't play an instrument or compose.  It's good for them to be able to use the generic sounds that the rest of the world who doesn't know how to make music uses.

But, to me, it's a waste because I don't want to sound like the rest of the world.

Not to mention 'Photo Booth'.

Have we become so fucking lazy and narcissistic that we can't even take the time to use a proper camera while we take pictures of ourselves?  And do we REALLY need a picture of ourselves sitting at the computer?!?!

Who the fuck needs this?!?!?

When I'm sitting at the computer, I don't want anyone to see me!

My hair looks like a brillo pad atop my head, I've got my coffee stained t-shirt on and no pretty femme make-up on!

No thank you.

No, you don't get to see me while I write my blog.

Still, they give you 'Notes'.  Another impractical item.

You can't send them to anyone.  I might as well use the one in my phone.

Which I don't, because it's of no use!!!!!!

I've now put all my documents into 'Google Docs'.

I will gladly share them with you, if you need them, but only if you also have a Gmail account.

Fuck Apple and their lack of documentation ability.

I don't mind the 'Face Time' option.  It's going to come in handy when we're abroad.  However, not everyone has a Mac computer.

It's kinda futile unless I know someone with a Mac.

Really, the only reason I needed a new computer was so that I could get to work on editing my documentary about our move to Casa Paraíso.

The iMovie app is working out just fine.

People who know how to use the fancy professional apps like Final Cut Pro would probably feel the same about iMovie as I do about GarageBand, but I'm not a pro movie maker.

Yet!

... enter evil 'i'm going to take over the world' laugh here ...

I just wanna get the silliness of choosing to uproot our lives out to the world.

Anyway, to make MY life simpler here's what I want the world to do.

Everyone run out and get a Mac computer so that I can talk to them on 'Face Time', and I want everyone get a Gmail account so that I can share my docs with you.

This will please me.

We all know you don't wanna piss me off.

I'm a cranky li'l bugger.

i love being cheerful and i love smiling

We are not amused.

New years resolutions are way too much pressure.

I no longer see the point.

It seems that it's just another opportunity to get mean to myself.

If I want to change something, I do it today.

Not Monday.

Not the first of a month.

Not New Years day.

Today.

What I've found is, that there's less of a burden placed on it as well.

Not to mention, then I can get to berating myself for not doing it much faster.

Yup.  I'm my own worst enemy sometimes.

What I've also found, is there are more opportunities to try again.

Less build up.

Less let down.

This year, my only resolution was to make it through the holiday season without a Hurricane Andréa sighting.

I did pretty good.

The only sugar and wheat I had was Xmas day, and the crankies stuck around for a good few days, but I'm feeling much better now.

I learned last night that my niece is the same as me.

She's a lunatic with sugar.

Everything gets blown out of proportion and she winds up in tears.

That's kinda the reason I don't drink alcohol either.

How many tears in my beers have I seen in my life?!?!

Not to mention, how many times did I look like a leprechaun fighting Irish?!

Instant asshole, just add alcohol.

I still see people cross the street when they see me, thinking I haven't changed.

I feel for all of you out there that feel the need to get your drunk hat on, just because it's New Years.

How many of you will be regretting your actions tomorrow?!?!

Not I.

No, I'll be sitting here nursing my 10 day long migraine.

10 days man!

I'm about ready to pop.

Stick a fork in me, I'm bloody well cooked.

However, being New Year's Eve, I won't be heading to the ER for another Pain Med Party.

No, Papi and I will be sitting here watching the ball drop in New York via TV.

I'll be fighting to keep my eyes open until midnight.

We'll probably have to listen to all our neighbours get as rowdy as possible.

Sound exciting?

Oh, but yes!

Papi and I are nothing but entertainment!

We lead such interesting lives, eh?

That and I'll be filming more of The Countdown.

Did I tell you I'm making a YouTube documentary of our travels?

I will let you know when the first episode is up.

That's partially why I've been writing less.

Learning more about making my doc!

I will film, edit, star and write the music for it.

Papi says he doesn't want to be in front of the camera, but it's mostly been him anyway.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go close my eyes again.

10 day migraine.

10 fucking days.

i have confidence in my body's ability to heal

Papi is a thug.

Of course, when we see someone we love, we see them in a much different light than those who don't know them.

To most people, I seem like the sweetest, most innocent person around.

I've got them all fooled.

Well, there was Papi, coming back from doing something while I was patiently waiting in the car, ...

... sorry, no details because my brain isn't giving them to me ...

... and I saw what some people see.

Thug.

He's put on a few pounds in the last year, which is great!

Not that he was too thin or anything, but it means that his body on the whole is finally healing from C Difficile.

... ah for fucks sakes!!! ... i JUST spilled coffee on one of my last 'un-spilled' white tees i own ... aaaarrrrgggghhhh!!!! ...

He couldn't keep anything in his gut for more than 20 minutes it seemed, but now he's keeping it in and eating like a madman!

I'm so happy that he's put on weight.

Papi, not so much.

As for me, I'm not impressed that the pain killers I've been on have given me a dose of the 'pharmaceutical poof'!

Anyway, I digress.

So, there he was coming out of the cat clients house, ...

... ooooh!  i knew if i didn't think about it, it would come!! ...

... and I saw it.

Thug.

Tattooed from knuckle to neck, hair cut of a marine and a nice dinner shirt that is at least a size too small for him.

If I didn't know him, I may look at him from a different perspective.

Instead I just giggled and realized that nobody is going to mess with him.

We were at Xmas lunch with the 97 year old, Alzheimer's afflicted G'ma, and her 98 year old, dementia stricken sister didn't recognize Papi.

They kept saying who he was.

As in 'was'.

Old school.

Old name, old pronoun etc., because it's the only way she could remember this person in front of her.

Poor old fart kept saying, "No!  That man!  I'm talking about HIM!" as she'd point at Papi again.

I'm sure she wasn't impressed that some asshole brought a thug to lunch!

Papi would never be mistaken for a female now.

When I was making his Xmas present video, I saw him before the male transformation.

These are two completely different individuals.

I love them both.

I still miss my old butch and those perfect Butch Tits every now and then, but right now, I'm just impressed that I'm married to a thug.

I love thugs.

We all know they're just soft teddy bears who would cry at the drop of a hat, don't we?

i am the perfect weight for 'me'

what's xmas without an ER visit?

So, while I was lying in emergency last night, I came up with a poem for y'all:

'Twas the night before Xmas
and all through the house
all the creatures were stirring,
including the mouse (aka: Sir Bark-a-Lot).

Papi dropped me off
to the ER with care
and all I could think was,
"How bad is my hair?!?"

The nurse gave me drugs
to help ease the pain,
and Papi and I were amazed
that we were here again.

The drugs didn't help,
but at least I felt better,
but damn!  I was cold
as I eyed up my sweater.

I'll go for their cat scan
to check out my head,
but it's just so damn painful
I wish I were dead.

Had me a bit of a migraine from hell.

I guess my pain killers have run their course and my pain had to go somewhere, so up it went to my head.

They pumped me up with morphine, gave me a cat scan to make sure there was no tumour, and sent me on my way.

Merry Xmas, you get a Pain Med Party.

Today, I'm not staggering all over the place and my eyes are open half way, so I'm doing a hell of a lot better than I was 24 hours ago.

So, for your Xmas pleasure, I made a video for Papi.

You are entitled to see it.

I threw in a few of my tunes as well, so you may want to have your speakers on.

Or not.  Hehehe.  Just don't tell me that.

No need in breaking my heart, eh?

I hope this day finds you all well.

i fill this day with hope and fill it with joy

THIS is fucking ridiculous

I'm hiding in the bedroom, doing my best to write to you today.  This is one of the days I wish I was already video blogging.  You really would have enjoyed Papi's baboon-like behaviour.

Seriously.  Arms were flailing.

I have to remember, we both have a lot of emotion around losing The Golden, but for fucks sakes!  He pissed me off enough to have me lose my sleep last night, and then I get up to more of his antics this morning when he came home.

He's on a rant about what I'm bringing to Casa Paraíso.  He says it's ridiculous.  Let me tell you what ridiculous is.  I couldn't even make my coffee without him trying to tell me how ridiculous my reverse osmosis water system is.

I need to drink water.  I can't drink their water.  Water heals me.  I'm bringing a system so I can drink the water.

So there I was trying to put my coffee into my urn and he was actually body blocking me, as if we were in a basketball game, "I won't let it go until you admit how ridiculous it is to bring this system," while I was grinding beans for my 2nd round of coffee, because he distracted me so bad on the first round, I fucked up the process.

Round 2: Pivot, water.  Pivot, beans.  Pivot, cinnamon.

Yes, he had me cornered in the very small of Our Closet, with his peacock tail fluffed, puffed out chest body, like a fucking dude in a bar showing who's boss.

To appease his nonsense, I tried to test the 'I'll let it go, if you admit how ridiculous this is' theory, so I told him, "OK.  I can admit that it's a bit large."  But do you think that was enough for him to now 'let it go'?

Oh, no.  He moved on to acting like a girl in that bar fight, snapping his fingers with, that 'bitch, I told you' attitude, all the whilst, spilling my coffee as he pranced about with every single thing I want to bring.

What's ridiculous?  Dragging it all out into the living room so that I could put it on my blog, in hopes that everyone would tell me I'm being ridiculous in wanting to bring things I can't buy there along with me.

I honestly can't even convey the act that's going on right now.

I can't even write without the feeling that he IS the Papirazzi.  The camera bulb is flashing, Papi's stomping around like an anger gnome, and the cats are nowhere to be found.  He's one step short of running to the mountain tops to scream out, "This is ridiculous!!!!!" in hopes that his bellowing echo could be heard all the way to the Dominican Republic.

Oh, here's the newest one he's brought out.  He's telling me they're going to think I'm bringing a bomb, which has quickly gone into him telling me it's just going to get wrecked.

THIS?  Is letting it go?

No, like I told him at the very beginning of his rant, "Even if I DO say it's ridiculous, you'll probably go on about it for the rest  of our 56 days."

Don't worry, I have ammo.  I'll just bring up the hissy fit about me wanting me to stop the medicinal cannabis because we're going somewhere they won't accept me using it, but then he goes on taking HIS medicinal cannabis for another fucking 3 weeks!!!

Yup, I'll be hearing about this until my dying day.  There I will be lying in my bed, all wrinkled and old, trying to gasp out my last breaths, with Papi telling me, "I won't let you die until you tell me how ridiculous it was."

Ridiculous is him purposely trying to get me to get pissed off.

He worked his magic of trying to piss me off all night last night and all morning today.  He just can't accept that when he goes into an anger rant, I shut down and don't say much, because I need to keep myself from showing my anger.

However, onward Papi went to test the theory.  Right down to, every time I poured myself a glass of water, he'd drink it.

Well, now I've locked myself in the bedroom to escape his shenanigans and enjoy my cup of coffee without it being spilled all over the floor every time he stomped by, ranting about how ridiculous this all is. 

This was seriously nothing you could ever capture in a few words.  Oh, how I wish I had a video blog up and running.  You'd understand my pain.

Here's his ridiculous photo:

 

You see that pink spot on the very right of this photo?

That was me trying to enjoy my mother fucking coffee.  You don't mess with my mother fucking coffee.

 i drink plenty of water to keep myself healthy

plethora!!!

I'm not even sure I told 'you', my imaginary friend, about the sweet little interview we did.

Click HERE!

I wanted to embed it, but for some reason, it ain't happenin'!

So, you'll have to click the link and get to the good stuff there.

It's an online show by RightOutTV that this generous music making couple did with us.

We were part of their 3rd show, and I wish nothing but the best for them in their venture!  It's great to have people who are so supportive in this world.

Tomorrow, we'll be shooting another music video, only this one will be live!

I get to sing my favourite BlueLight song, 'No Pearls of Wisdom', which is the last song on our current CD, "On The Edge," while Lin tinkers away at a grand piano.

It's not my upright baby grand piano, but rather, some fancy dancy one at a super duper studio!

I'll hook you up with it once it's online as well.

Now, I'd like to vent about religion.

Religion pisses me off.

... yeah, yeah, yeah, i go on about zealots ... what fucking ever ...

Being raised around a bunch of abusive nuns who, in turn, trained more of my family to be hateful, my Catholic upbringing was less than accepting of anyone who wasn't just like them.

Which I wasn't.

Here's a young man who has believed in his religion, and has now been failed by it, like many others who have been hurt by their ridiculous views.

Click HERE!

I wanted to embed that one as well, but for some reason, my links keep defaulting to Angry Birds.

... whatever, google gods! i found a way to beat your silliness ...

This lovely young person was invited to be a keynote speaker for his baby brother's graduation, but then his opportunity was revoked, because the Bishop of the school found out he was gay.

Here's a lovely Facebook page to support him on: Let Dominic Speak.

Click HERE for the petition to sign.

Ok.

Have I given you enough to do on this rainy Vancouver Saturday?  Or sunny 'n hot beautiful land in the midwest USA?  Or whatever place in the world you're reading from.

Hello Russia!  Been noticing you hang around a lot these past few weeks!  Welcome to you!

Anyway, I just finished the practise with Lin, and we're ready to go for tomorrow.

I'm so sorry to Papi who is trying to sleep off the Graveyard Coma.

And now, I get to go make more drum loops for us to use.

I hope your day brings you joy.

never let success go to your head and never let failure get to your heart

Do What You Want.

It's hard to blog without my coffee.  I believe that's why I've been so delinquent recently.

However, today I have something exciting to show you!

The BlueLight video!

This was so amazingly exciting to do.

I know I shared a few pics with you before, but this is so much better to see it in it's entirety.

This was done by Green Couch Productions.  They are incredibly talented.

We had so much fun :)

I hope you enjoy it.

today i will enjoy the journey, no matter where it takes me

Storm has passed.

So.

I scraped my way out of the Pit of Doom.  Fortunately, Papi was there to save the day when my pain killer packed smoothie spilled all over my composing desk.

Yeah.  That was a nice effect to put on the already fucked up day.

Oh, and the reason I was in my music room was because I was going to try to compose to take my mind off everything.

Alas, my cords have gone missing from the video and I had no AC to make music.

So.

I spent half the day crying tears of frustration.

I spoke to me dear aunt who stopped the tears with some chuckles.

I stared at the wall, drooling for a few hours.

I finally got hungry and I made some dinner.

I am still on a quest to make Papi healthy food that he likes.  Last night I made my usual steamed veggies with quinoa, and some broiled chicken.

I was thrilled that my love was even entertaining eating my lovely organic veggies on this day, so the steamer was put together with ardor!

Carrots on his side, kale on my side, shared broccolini and daikon in the center, and a nice sweet pile of quinoa on top to heat with the steam.

I excitedly brought the dish to my love, even though it looked boring in comparison to mine.  I like a little tahini drizzled on top for added calcium and protein.

True to any spoiled child, I heard, "There are people who eat things separately, and people who eat things together.  I'm one of the people who eats things separately."

listen mother fucker, i just spent a day sobbing over bureaucratic bullshit, and made you and i a nice dinner ... eat the fucking food and be grateful for fucks sakes!

Papi is a manchild.  If I want my Tranny Terrorist to eat well, I have to suffer the supper of perfection.

"It's just that I don't like all my food mushed together in the same plate!  I want to eat each thing separately so that I can only taste one thing at a time."

Oh, dearest Papi.

You make me forget all about what I was upset over, with your zany ways.

My love had a great idea for our evening.  He brought out the Wii Guitar Hero.

This game is insanity for any actual musician.  The beats are counter-intuitive.  You actually have to play the note ahead of where it should be.  I sucked!!  I wanted to play on the beat!!!

So, after failing a few times and letting down my band mate, because I was playing music the way it should be, I was demoted to singer.

This should have been better, except the songs were stuff I'd never heard before.

I sounded like a polecat in heat.

So bad in fact, that Sir Bark-A-Lot actually started to howl when I'd follow that little line up when it told me to.

As I crooned with the rat dog, Papi was trying to maintain his composure and nail his guitar hooks, the Bucket Head whined, and the cats ran around trying to find shelter from the pain of the din.

It was perfect.  It was exactly what I needed.

I was able to finally laugh at the end of the day.  It may have taken me all day to get to the point of my daily mantra, but I did it.

I laughed.

This morning I'm feeling much better, because 'today' is the 'tomorrow' I waited for 'yesterday'.

It's always a better day 'tomorrow', and besides, there's no mail to bring me down today.

All I have to worry about is getting my love, the new found chauffeur, to drive me around, considering I temporarily have no license.

That and trying to figure out how the fuck I'm going to make food for Papi 'his way' so he'll eat the goddam veggies!!!

'Today' is good.  I weathered the storm of Hurricane Andréa, and lived to tell the story.

i have hope ... i am able to see hope

You may be a redneck if,

I never got to tell you about the whacky experience during the video preparation and the actual day.

Remember that bad dream I had?

The one where my BlueLight partner Lin stopped the filming because of my 'fat'?.

While the fitting of the dress happened, you know, when it fit, Lin ever so seriously walked over and pointed out that there was a bulge in the boning of the dress.

All I saw was her pointing at the 'fat' that i'm all too aware of, so I told her what had just happened I had dreamed about prior.

I got very defensive, because the Anorexia Monster was chattering about how I'm going to look so awful in the video, etc.

However, I found my come back, "Ok!  But it is only Saturday.  I have one more day to eat a gazillion veggies and lose water."

They were both impressed that I was able to actually lose a dress size in a week, but now comes the hard part.  Keeping up with my proper diet.

There has been a lot of talk on Facebook about a campaign to bring awareness to eating disorders.

The Anorexia Monster is really enjoying it.

Mostly because I read the full article about how most models are considered anorexic, yet the 'plus' size models were around a 6 and above.

You fucking kidding me?

So.

To them I'd be a plus size person?

No.

A plus size person can only shop at 3 stores, and it's all made for older women who like to dress conservatively, or in a moo moo, without a spice of flare to it, lest they look good.

Seriously?

Where are the designers out there who realize that the world doesn't revolve around size 'waif'?

Beauty does not only come under the size of 6, but that good old Anorexia Monster is still talking away at me regardless.

hehehe ... while you're sick and don't feel like eating, you can just fake a little more 'not feeling like its' in and lose a bit of that stuff you see in the mirror ...

Well, I'm too sick to fight that bitch, so I'll be sure that when I do feel like eating, it will be something healthy that benefits my system.

So, fuck you and your 'plus size' fucking crap.

Fuck!

The fucking fucker's fucked!

Had to throw that in there. 

I just love the redneck in me.

Video Pics!

I'm feeling a little more coherent today.

That was worth the level 8 pain and exhaustion.  Just glad I don't have to perform like that every week, or even every month.

Regardless of how much I hurt, the video for BlueLight is going to be great!

The company Green Couch are amazing.  Their style of filming is going to give our video absolutely astounding life.

Here are a few shots:

I thought I'd share this one first, because it makes me giggle every time I look at it.

I'm not actually attached to a noose, however, this song is about Papi's male transformation, so a noose would be appropriate.

It was us looking 'upside down', which is also how I felt during the worst part of tumultuous emotions I had around my love dropping the F-M bomb.

Anyway, this is the hair that took an hour of picking, and half my conditioning products to undo.

I've never had my hair stand on end before.  I never knew it could.

I mean, you'd think I experienced my hair on end through the 6 weeks of catatonic crying over Papi's male transformation.

But no.

It was Zed the amazing hair stylist who did this with ease!

That's not a spider in my hair, even if it gives me the creeps looking at it.

These ghouly pics don't quite catch the way Green Couch was filming it.  You'll have to wait for the video to actually see the effect they were going for.

You can see Lin Gardiner in the background playing keys, but this is a better look at the two of us together:

If you look at the bottom of the pic, you'll see the company, LMG Photography.

The couple are very good friends of ours who do amazing work.  It's Meredydd Gray on makeup, and Lara Gray behind the camera stills.  They are the same friends who did our wedding pics.

They are amazing.

Here's a nice close up of Meredydd's amazing makeup job:

Yup.  I look like I belong on set for Disney.  However, I'm not sure they're keen on a gay princess with tattooed arms and full metal shrapnel on her teeth.

None-the-less, between Zed and Meredydd made such a fantastic look, I have never felt so childlike in all my adult years.  Goddamit it was so much fun!

But I know what you're waiting for.

The Dress.

Yes.  THE Dress:

Well, we didn't really get a great close up with these pics, because there was so much in the way for filming, but here it is:

There may be more shots to share with you to get a really good idea of why I worked so hard for a week to fit into it.

But for now, you get to see how absolutely frivolous I felt in this get up!

It's probably the last time I wear this gem.

My ass gave the boning in the back a run for it's money.  It slowly creeped straight through the material, jabbing me in the butt for a good 2 hours.  Not to mention I couldn't sit, because that dress would have ripped open if I did.

There's a nice war wound on my ass.

Ah, the suffering we do for our art.

thank you pain killers ... you really did a great job!!!

Or in this case, an overly absurd statement of goofiness.

But my favourite of all, was a pic of pouty me.

Yes.

I do pout.

There's that spider again, only this time, it looks like I have black roots.

Anyway, these are the only shots I have to give you right now.  There's so much more, but I think I'll just wait for the end result to show you.

I can't wait for it to be edited and polished!!!!

Rub my Tummy?

Wow.

That was a whirlwind.

I lost a day there.

I went on vacation to video land.  I'm actually still having trouble coming home from it.

Every time I eat, I'm afraid that I might ruin my lipstick, but I'm not wearing any.

I'm not sure how effectively I could tell you about the video that took from 8am until 2:30am.

Mostly because right now I'm suffering the effects of too much fun, and the pain killers are doing their best to numb out a level 8 pain. 

I'm pretty sure this body is going to need a good week to recover from that one.

But what I can say about how wonderful this day was, is it was like living in a dream.

I now know why I like playing dress up.

In my former life, I must've been a dog.  Too much of it makes sense.

My loyalty, my goofiness, my tendency to bite first, learn later.

You know, the usual.

But when I'm in that chair and people are stroking my face with cool, soft, little brushes, I feel like I go into a meditative state.

They caress my skin, up and down, side to side in short strokes, long strokes, dabs, puffs, or whatever it takes to make their art on my skin please them. 

However, I sit silently, feeling like a dog having it's muzzle stroked, and peacefully allow the moment to last as long as possible.

Sometimes, I even get that neck up feeling dogs do, when they manipulatively get you to stroke their chin, neck and jaw line.

Slower than a minute hand on a clock, my chin raises, and true to any dog, I've trained them to pull my jaw down again.

Then there's the hairdresser!

They stroke your hair with cushy, rounded bristles, tingling your scalp enough to give you goosebumps.

Even yesterday when my hair was being back combed into manic frenzy, I liked it.

She'd push those little pins in, and they would give every follicle a gentle hold, quite like a traction machine.  They get stretched out and are ready to relax when the exercise is over.

Yeah, it took me an hour to pick through that creation of enthusiastic madness out.

That and half of my conditioner supplies.

But don't worry folks!  My hair is still hangin' in there so that I can bore you with the monotony of it all being about my hair.

... but you know it is ...

Anyway, I'm hoping that this post has stayed on track.  I certainly know I'm having trouble reeling it in right now.

But hey, the pain killers are doing their job.

I will be posting pics and links soon.

hip hip hooray! literally.

I did it!!!!!!!!!!!

Albeit just barely, but I did it.

I dropped one dress size in 7 days, by eating healthy and exercising, and the dress is on!

I didn't have to harm my body, and that's wonderful.

Here's to hoping the zipper doesn't break on set.

This was just a very quick hello before I'm off on my way to video land.

I hope your day is as much fun as mine will be ...

Dream a Little Dream With Me.

Well, I did pretty good until last night.

I've been eating healthy, exercising and trying to be nice to myself.

That doesn't stop what I see in the mirror, but I feel better, so if nothing happens to get me into that dress, at least I'm feeling healthy.

However, even though I can talk to myself about being healthy, the Anorexia Monster is nipping at my heels, very much in the same manner as Sir Bark-a-Lot when we have company.

Alas, the Anorexia Monster entered my dreams last night.

I dreamed I was at least 50 pounds heavier than I really am, and when we did the video shoot, the Grand Poohbah ...

aka the big boss lin ...

... stopped shooting and said, "Hold on, hold on!  We have a bit of a problem here!"

She showed me the problem.

Yup.

Great gobs of fat hanging from my stomach.

We had to cancel the video shoot and I had to go lose weight.

Jeeeeeeeezus Christ on a stick!

First of all, even if I was as heavy as the Andréa in the dream, we'd still be doing a video, because this video is not about perfect bodies who have suffered to be this way.

This video is about my craft, my art and my talent, not my fucking ass and stomach.

Second of all, I can get another dress that will flatter my curvacious body and I will still feel sexy, because sex appeal comes from within.

So, I woke up, and what do you think is the first thing I did?!?

If you guessed run to the mirror and lift my t-shirt up to reveal the stomach that doesn't look like the one in my dream, then you'd be correct.

It was actually good for me.

For a moment, I saw that I'm smaller than the person in the dream, even if it did switch very quickly into wayyyyyy too much heftiness on my hips.

That's when I stopped looking.

I'm eating my normal breakfast, and will eat my healthy food through the day, coupled with a gym/physio workout and nice words to myself.

Even if I can't get into that dress tomorrow, I'm trying to remind myself that this was a gown worn in my teens.

I have to remember that I'm a woman, not a young girl.

I have to remember that one of the sexiest women known, was a vivacious size 10, which in today's sizes bring Marilyn Monroe's size closer to a 16.

I have to remember that the fashion industry has started to make clothing smaller, so that we women have even more grief about our healthy bodies.

Fuck them and their fucking ridiculous sizes that make us, with eating disorders, cringe every time we need to buy a new pair of jeans. 

Fuck them and their fucking air brushing to make an aging woman feel older than the stars we see in magazines.

Fuck them and their fucking rants about who's too fat or who's too thin.

Fuck them and their glorifying of mentally ill models, who are starving themselves for designers from hell.

I have had crying sessions in change rooms, where I've had to leave all the clothes I've tried on in a crumpled mess, that which reflects my mind.

Well, today I will be good to myself, even if I do see the dream Andréa in the mirror.

The mirror lies.

I have to remember that the only reason I have a mirror is to see if my outfits are not looking like a tossed salad with way too many clashing veggies.

Anyway, all I really want to say is, even if I can't fit into that dress tomorrow that I wore just 5 months ago, then fuck it.

I'm healthy, and there's another dress out there just waiting for me to slide my sexy booty into.

Oh, the mayhem that will be ...

What a great day yesterday!

We had to work really hard to fit everything into one day of video prep for BlueLight, but taskmaster Lin and her beautiful wife Carol are absolutely amazing at getting things organized.

And boy, do I need that.

I used to be that way before the brain injury, but now I need help, and that's ok.

I appreciate the details that they are so good at picking out.  This is going to be so much fun!!!

Except for the part where I can't fit into my dress that I performed in on one of our last gigs.  You know remember that gig?  The one that I put my back out for and had a ride in an ambulance after?

Yeah.

I go big.

I don't just leave a show in a limo, I leave on a stretcher in an ambulance.  Top that bitches!

Anyway, the dress.

It's hard enough for me to actually see myself as a healthy weight, but to not fit into a dress has my Anorexia Monster whispering in my ear ever so seducingly.

For those of us who have an eating disorder, you understand the dysphoria that occurs when we look in the mirror.

Carol tried to help ease my 'Oh no, I'm too fat!' drama, by showing me that she has some fat on her healthy body, and that it's ok.  She tried to reassure me with, "We could find another dress if we need to."

anorexia monster has something else in mind ...

The problem is, every time I look in the mirror, I see great gobs of fat that shouldn't be there, hence, I never really know I've gained true weight if I'm not performing, because I'm not attempting to slide into fancy clothes.

Well, I have 6 days to get this body into that dress.

I can't accept that I would have to rent a dress for the day because of weight gain.  I cannot do that.

I know that as we age, it's only natural to gain weight, but my Anorexia Monster won't accept it.

So, here we go.

6 days of gentle, yet pin-pointed exercise to help that booty slide into that outrageous, fuschia, taffeta gown, and my waist line closer to what it was a few months ago when I felt like wearing my sexy jeans.

a little xmas meltdown had me wearing sweats for a good month there ...

Think I can do it?

The more realistic part of my brain says, "I think not," however, that won't stop the Anorexia Monster.  She will not stop at anything to fit into that dress.

Seriously!  It just fit this August past!

I know I put on weight after every re-injury of my bitch of a back, but damn!  This can't happen right now!!!

My mind has been obsessing about food every second since that bursting of my body image bubble yesterday.

Normally, I obsess about the goodies that I want.  God forbid they're in the house, because then it's like I have blinders on, and can only see the foods that whisper my name.  I have to eat them to get them off my mind.

However, right now, I'm obsessing about how little I can eat to stay healthy, yet not allow the Anorexia Monster take over.

It's a tough balance, but I can do this!  I have all the foods I need to make my body feel svelte, even if the mirror lies.

Oh.  Did I mention it's the same dress I wore in my teens when I was foolish enough to think that winning a pageant would convince me that I'm pretty?

Well, I won runner up, so I'm sure you can imagine what came next for that 'I'm not good enough' brain.  Yup.  Years upon years of thinking I'm not pretty enough.

Well, I know now that pretty comes from the inside, but my outside wants to fit into that fucking dress!!

Oh, this should be a great week for Hurricane Andréa.  I'm sure there will be many moments of mayhem for you to enjoy.

Or relate to?

Riding that wave ...

You know, it's time to put the Trust List into an archive box.

I am so surrounded by support, that the list just keeps growing.

So much so, that the little basket I'd collect hearts in, has become so big, that I now need a semi-trailer to haul all the love.

Every single angel who has sent me treasured words of esteem are automatically added to the list.

It's so big now, that I walk with pride.

It's so big now, that I don't feel the need to fall prey to social anxiety and hide under my rock, missing out on opportunities for a room full of joy.

It's so big now, that I received an email from someone wanting to make a play out of our story.

She told me she had made a web page for me some years back, but somehow, my injured noodle just can't remember.  I'll have to wait to see her face up close, look in her eyes and allow the memories to wire back in when they choose.

Anyway.

The Trust List.

It's big.

It's powerful.

It's so full of love.

However, that's all I have time to write about today, because it's a very busy day.

I'm going to go get prepared for the last shots of our BlueLight video, and Lin Gardiner is a strict task master so I don't wanna piss her off!!

Hence, I don't have much time to write, other than to say that my 2012 has started out with greatness.

I'm gonna ride that wave until it crashes on the shores of the Dominican Republic!

I'm grateful you're here to join me.

It's a little bit like ...

Mayhem!!!

Working on another film score.

I'll be back soon as I get a ton done.  I'm behind because of a fancy keyboard program that won't work for me.

In the meantime, here's a video of our last performance.

Note the barefeet ... my back was out and couldn't wear heels!!

It's blasphemy!!

You can see our video for the song in the background.

Now I'm off and running ...