Living Proof

One month and somewhat days until my wedding day and I still have not found a dress. Let me just say one thing: I hate shopping. I’m so not your typical ‘girly girl’ where all she wants to do is spend money on shopping and primping---give me top shelf booze instead. So my experience yesterday was absolutely horrific. I spent too much time at this formal wedding gown shop or “shoppe”---whatever the frig you wanna call it and got the whole “oooooooooooooooh try this one on” type of treatment. Nice. Catering. Princess-like treatment. Total disaster. I need to separate my damn paragraphs for this… 1rst dress: Tall sophisticated lady throws this huge satin purple prom dress up on the display hanger. “You have to try this on in order to know if you’ll like it or not.” “NO. It’s a prom dress.” “Really, you have to see it on first.” “NO. It’s purple.” She scoots me in the huge dressing room and throws a pair of ugly gold high-heeled shoes with a bunch of straps all over them. By the time I ma

The morning started off bad. We ran out of coffee and had to use a blend from a gift bag we got a few months ago with an Elvis logo on it. The coffee was irritatingly strong and tasted like freshly brewed mierda. It’s the thought that counts, right? I headed back into the kitchen to pour no brand cereal into my bowl. Madelene insists on getting the “Cheerio-like” cereals in a ‘no brand name’, but hell if she’s touching my Special K. Anyway, while pouring the contents of this disgusting cereal, a huge blobby cereal grain covered something or other fell out into the bowl. Whatever was in the factory or scurrying around apparently fell right into the box. Lovely. Mind you, this was after the fact Madelene ate two bowls of it. That’ll teach her. I won’t be suing, although I really could use the extra cash. I’m highly sensitive and grumpy today. I am avoiding every single person that knows me or may meet me in person accidentally. I am in full isolation mode. You may read my words but hell

When life gets busy, our home generally doesn’t regenerate paper towels, toilet paper, eggs, milk—you get my drift. It’s up until I open up the refrigerator door and realize, “Oh no! I gotta go shopping!” I’m certainly not going to eat Szechuan chicken at 6am along with my coffee. It’s toast and butter for now. Anticipating the cooler fall-like day we’re going to have today, my plans include grocery shopping as well as plant shopping. I’ve been on this big ‘plant excursion' for the past couple of months. Madelene comes home to a jungle and the first words out of her mouth are: “Are they fake?” *blink* It’s a cute little odd life I have here. I wake up quite early to write, edit and submit my articles to my editor and then my workday ends in mid-morning, which kicks in my newly domesticated ass in gear. I trek down to the local farm where they sell plants and other home goodies. I never thought I’d be one of those ‘green thumbers’ but lately, even living in a condo with not a blade

Ok, so this is probably getting old for those of you who read this drab of a blog, but mom’s come up with a new lingo... While sitting down relaxing, she discusses ways of advertising my dad’s business more efficiently. As you know, my mom’s not so familiar with the computer or the internet. Things said such as: “Don’t you be meeting those people on that ‘intercom’!” “Deb, can you bring over your ‘blacktop’ later so I can shop for better prices?” “Your sister constantly ‘tex mexes’ people on her phone!” Now, she has added one more to her list: “What about Goggle?” No, that wasn’t a typo either. She’s heard here and there about “Google”, but she insists on calling it, “Goggle”. It kind of makes sense if you’re ‘searching’ for something, why not call it Goggle or Goggles? Unfortunately for those of you who wanted to bank on this new website, Goggles---it’s already taken.

Flipping through tons of spam from erectile dysfunction companies and email from people in Kenya asking me to deposit part of their inheritance into my personal bank account had my head spinning. It was a pleasant surprise to get an email from a real person who reads my blog. I haven’t had time nor the juice to write lately and have been mainly focused on trying to get the wedding together by October. The usual dramas that take up 80% of my brain have been distracted by thoughts of ‘ what dress to buy’, ‘which photographer to go with’ , as well as, ‘do you think this venue is ok’. Wedding planning has occupied most of the main lobby of my frontal lobe, and believe me, there’s not much room to spare. It was a pleasure to finally delve into someone else’s drama other than my own. “Katie” just got her heart broken. Let me rephrase that. “Katie’s” heart has been broken for quite some time. Her boyfriend ended things with her about 6 months ago. Since then, it’s been nothing but pointless

…I yelled out, while tears streamed down my cheeks because of the hormonal chaos that was rumbling inside of me. “I haven’t even picked out a dress!” “We’ll go together this week to look for one, Deb.” “It’s too short of time and I want everything to be perfect!” “It will be sweetie, everything is falling into place.” she says, trying to console me. It’s not cold feet—it’s more or less trying to OCD over every single aspect of the wedding. God bless Madelene’s mom. She grew up in a Pentecostal household and found out about 10 years ago that her daughter, Madelene was a lesbian. Her mom took it hard, but not because she wasn’t open-minded, it was just that she saw her daughter wed a man once before and wanted the “good life” for her—meaning well taken care of by a man and having children. My mom wanted the same exact thing. It’s pretty normal for those who grew up in a religious-type of family who raised more than enough kids. While sitting at the dining room table eating dinner with Ma

When a “woman” crosses over to change her sex there is almost a statistical certainty that she will want or have the same sexual partner orientation that she had in her prior sex. That is to say that someone who is heterosexual will be heterosexual after a sex change. Someone who is homosexual will be homosexual after a sex change. This seems confusing at first glance, except for the concept that sex change and sexual partner orientation are two distinct parts of a human psycho relational issue with either themselves or with others. Sexual Identity is the Transsexual issue and leads to a sex change. This has near no affect on an individual’s sexual partner orientation. If a man relates sexually to the opposite sex then when crossed over to being a female she will desire men. If he had same sex relations, when she crosses over; she will likely then be lesbian. This is statistically held in about 90-95 percent of study groups. There are exceptions of course, and there are intermediate l

This is my very first video I made which deals with the hatred of many Christian fundamentalists towards homosexuals. How can another Christian with so much love for God hate another human being for being who they are? I tackled this topic more than a gazillion times. I just wanted to post this video back up in case my new blogging friends haven’t seen it. It was lost in another account and deleted by someone who had hatred in her heart as well. (The text in the video may appear too small. I apologize, it was my first run with iMovie.)

My morning started as I clumsily shuffled my way through the living room to make it into the kitchen. With one eye opened and one eye closed, I tried the best I could to scoop the coffee grinds out of the can and into the coffee maker. It didn’t go too well. I now have a trail of grinds everywhere but inside the machine. I attempted to make breakfast for Madelene. We prefer egg whites, so I made an egg white omelet. Cracking the eggs was the easy part, however trying to get the yolk to stay inside was another story. Twice, the yolk fell onto my foot, leaving a sticky yellowy mess. Not a good morning as you can see. Madelene woke up to the sounds of obscenities coming out from the kitchen area. It’s Saturday morning. Her most challenging days at work are on Saturdays. I try the best I can to wake up before her, make her breakfast, prepare her lunch and sit down and talk to her. She always insists that I sleep in a little, but I want to spend time with her before her workday starts. I w