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Very quick post as I have  to check out in fifteen

My hotel in Charlotte has been a suite. Two sections and wonderful view which I foolishly didn’t get at night

The room was the size of my house.

And yesterday I took this picture.

Wesley’s consulting room and home to

TERRORIST BEARD!!!!!

I am so lucky they don’t do DNA samples when you come into a country. And my beard was really wooly then too…

Goodbye.

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Wesley and I attended the St Peters Episcopal Church yesterday for Worship. A quick aside, the church is delightful, the acoustics amazing and they have this world-renowned choir which travels far afield to sing.  It’s an amazing church of which I would love to be a member.

However, not the point of the post. I truly hope not to embarrass him however Wesley has many skills however singing in tune is not always his forte. I completely get this. My eldest nephew, also with many skills, cannot hold a tune.  The day got ahead of us so I didn’t actually get a chance to tell him this story and as the day progressed I really wish I had told him this earlier.

A pet peeve of mine. I can sing and possibly in tune. Some people cannot. It’s all good. There is nothing that annoys me more than when someone who may be loud or out of tune is told to shush. My youngest nephew told his brother this very thing before I came down on him like a tonne of bricks.  The point of singing, whether you belong to a choir or sing in the shower, is to express joy.  You are so full of happiness you burst into song. That should never be squashed, especially if you’re out of tune. Or loud. Or in perfect pitch.

It annoys me when people squash other people’s happiness. It occurs so rarely.

So my pet peeve over, I am in church with Wesley and we are singing our hearts out. And we get to one part off the service and we’re singing. And I have to stop singing. As Wesley sings this song completely perfectly. So I listen to my friend sing the entire song. I don’t sing another word. All I can hear is his voice. And buddy, it was beautiful.

But then everything you sang yesterday was beautiful.

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De-Caterpillared

Apologies for the lack of chronology. I am playing catch up. This occurred last Sunday the 8th:

So how do you get from this:

To this?

You have this man (and yes, that is the genuine look of disgust on his face, which still cracks me up) take matters into his own hands.

All the while telling me off for looking like crap. Which just made it more entertaining.

After being shorn like a sheep, I headed to Baltimore to catch up with Ray.  After being burned by American Airlines before I now pay the extra to fly first class. This sounds grander than it is. It means a wider seat and more leg room which is wonderful. In terms of refreshments I got a packet of pretzels. The reason I do this though, and it turned out to be money well spent, is that more often than not, American Airlines are always late. As was the case this time. We did not depart until seventy minutes after schedule. And that’s when the extra leg room kicks in.

Money. Well. Spent.

The man sitting next to me was reading a book: “The Theology of Christianity” and he was asleep for most of the time we were waiting on the tarmac. When he woke up and realised we were still on the ground, the expletives flew. “Oh you gotta be f***ing kidding me!!!!!! What type of f***ed up c*** airline is this????? You f**king people couldn’t f***ing fly sh*t!!!!!! What c*** organised this sh*t????”

I pretended to sleep through his tantrum.

The Theology of Christianity, people. Look it up. It’s got the best words in it!

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When I was last in Charlotte Wesley gave me detailed instructions about how to pack a suitcase as part of my queer eye education.  Evidently throwing everything into the suitcase as haphazardly as possible then sitting on the suitcase to close it is not a valid strategy in the queer world. Perhaps the concept is if the customs guy opens your suitcase and sees the work of art therein  and wont bother upsetting the order in an effort to look for drugs or else it is an automatic sign pointing to your gayness and the swarthy customs man invites you back for a probing. I can but hope.

Anyway, in the interest of sharing my obsessiveness education (and cos I really should be sleeping not doing this) here is, in pictorial splendor, a guide to packing your suitcase like a gay (with lots of time on their hands)

Firstly just you to show you how far I have come here is the packing to be done prior to going overseas in 2010

and here is the packing to be done today, 2011:

First rule of thumb is to layer the bottom with papers. in this case, a load of car brochures wanted by Raymond (of the shooting and the speeding fame)

This is followed by underwear neatly folded and layered across the case like roof shingles.

Socks should live in shoes and the shoes like flat against the side of the case (this picture doesn’t show that, I know. I was trying to show the socks in the shoes)

Much like the boxers, shirts are lied flat and like roof shingles. To my chagrin I am taking 12 shirts in case I need to layer and/ or mix and match. I used to tease people like me once.

This is such a simple idea but genius, instead of rolling your belt into a spool and taking up room, run it around the outer rim of the suitcase. Takes up no room then

Finally coats and suits are folded and placed on top of the clothing.

Voila. You’re done. and only three hours after the people who cram their suitcases!

Don’t forget your tickets, money and passport and   go have fun. You wont need to iron when you get there.

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Apologies for the lack of posts over the last few days. As my last post may have indicated my mood was not in the right spot for writing up posts.  (That doesn’t stop me writing up stuff when I’m in those moods, heh. When I’m dead check the draft folder  of this thing. It’s quite the reading. ) So rather than vent my spleen on you poor unsuspecting readers, I chose to keep schtumm and lick my wounds. God, I was flat though.

Someone worked this  out  and very, very, very kindly sent me an email to lift my spirits.
The Subject Line :  To Cheer you Up.

And the content……

Zhonghua Nan Ke Xue. 2010 Dec;16(12):1095-7.

[Sexual function and mental state in patients with redundant prepuce or phimosis].

[Article in Chinese]

Yang L, Ruan LM, Yan ZJ, Cheng Y, Wang GY, Ji YX.

Department of Psychology, The First Hospital of Ningbo, Ningbo, Zhejiang 315010, China. yanglu20091111@hotmail.com

Abstract

OBJECTIVE: To investigate the correlation of sexual dysfunction with psychological abnormalities by analyzing the sexual function and mental state of the patients with redundant prepuce or phimosis.
METHODS: This study included 216 randomly selected patients with redundant prepuce or phimosis and 85 normal male controls. We conducted investigations among the subjects using a questionnaire on the general data of the patients, Chinese Index of Sexual Function for Premature Ejaculation (CIPE), International Index of Erectile Function (IIEF), and Symptom Checklist 90 (SCL-90). Then we assessed the status of premature ejaculation (PE) and erectile dysfunction (ED), calculated the incidence of psychological abnormalities, such as depression and anxiety, and analyzed the correlation of PE and ED with the mental state of the patients.
RESULTS: The PE and ED patients scored significantly higher than normal controls on SCL-90, somatization, compulsion, depression, anxiety and other factors (P < 0.05). CIPE scores were correlated with the scores on SCL-90, somatization, compulsion, interpersonal sensitivity, depression, anxiety and other factors, while ED-related scores showed no correlation with the scores on SCL-90 and other factors.
CONCLUSION: Patients with redundant prepuce or phimosis have poor mental health, and there is an interaction between PE and the mental state of the patient.

Initially I thought Wesley had sent it to me in a very bold move to irritate the life out of me. After I considered it though, I had to give him points for both balls of steel and the genius of finding something so perfectly hysterical and yet so pertinent. Literally when I got it I didn’t stop laughing  for ten minutes.

To make matters ever more genius though I realised the email hadn’t come from Wesley at all but from an unknown email address with no hint of sender.  My very first fan mail! I was so proud!! Here was one of my circumcision fans, coming out of the woodwork and earning points for being concerned for my wellbeing and earning points for being focussed.

I wrote a reply thanking my Very First Fan for his very welcome email however have yet to receive a reply. I love the fact  he  emboldened and highlighted poor mental health in red just so I completely get the message. It’s like he’s known me all my life!

So there you have it. My depression is a result of a redundant foreskin.

Wow! If I had known it was that easy I’d have let Wesley circumcise me the first time he offered. I hope the pharmaceutical companies don’t get wind of this as there could be a fortune lost in anti depressant. I am updating my depression inventory (a checklist of factors that influence depression) to include questions of foreskin intactness.

So God bless you, my Very First Fan. That email was the best tonic I have received in forever. As someone who does flirt with depression I am, clearly, very interested in the study. Now that I know there are mental health benefits as well as the physical benefits Wesley has already mentioned I am teetering into acceptance.

I will be back in the states in May and visiting Dr Wesley.  I am sure he will have his clamp on standby. Watch this space, Very First Fan.

Circumcision Week is coming. Bring popcorn.

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First year on. Apologies for not doing this yesterday. That’s impressive really, mark the first year of the blog by missing a day. Life got extremely in the way yesterday. Then I stupidly deleted all the work I had done for this blog anyway. No more time for excuses. Onward.

So first anniversary retrospective introspection navel gazing, as promised.

I am in a particularly introspective mood so apologies for what follows (I’m not sure what it will be, to be honest.) 

I suppose I measure how popular a particular post is by the hits it gets on any given day (roughly between 30 -50 on average), the number of comments it generates (take a bow my three regular mad, much-loved commentors) or the number of emails I get privately telling me how much someone enjoyed a particular post. As I have said I have been flabbergasted by some posts that I put out in pure desperation and then take on a life of its own. eg:

 The Surprises

Word

This went mental at the time. I wrote it in a hurry as I had nothing better to say. People loved it. I got so many emails (not the most, mind you. The most I ever got was about my toilet habits) telling me how funny they thought it was. It generated a couple of sequels, such was its popularity. It also has me eavesdropping everywhere for funny things to write in the blog.

Washing

Another throwaway idea that struck gold. People loved the idea of superstitions. I had loads of mails telling me of all the odd superstitions people believed. Fortunately, without even that help, my Gran had millions that I will be able to milk for the blog.

Doctor Who

I probably should have known this would have been big. Doctor Who is a huge success and it was reflected in the spike in interest the blog experienced as a result. it was tempting to milk that as well however other things came up that were far more interesting to other people. And you know where I’m going there. I am going to the Doctor Who Experience in London though, so expect a return to the delights of Doctor Who exhibitions before June.

The Sad

Song

This makes me cry whenever I read it. I doubt you would have the same response as it is one of those “had to be there” moments. Still, included as it makes me weepy and it’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to. heh

Come Out

Whereas I had more mail about this post, where people told me they were genuinely moved to tears by my words, than … well… ever. I am not sure if it was recounting my crappy coming out experience or people responding to my understanding of some people’s need to stay in the closet for the moment but this touched people. Lots of lovely emails thanking me for this one. The response to this post was genuinely lovely.

The Funny

Chocolate

Who would have thought that Cadbury,over whom I have dedicated much of my life in orgasmic rapture , would treat me so badly when I needed them most. That trip has gone into legend in the family and I am now not allowed to pick anywhere to go for field trips. As such I am going to Manchester United Football Club (who cares) and the Battleship museum (who cares) due to Cadbury being such a dog box.

Sad Person

This was the first post I had written which I genuinely found funny. I can still read it and chuckle to myself. I am tempted to return to Cardiff this time armed with flowers to lay at the shrine. I will ensure my visit is video taped and my wailing heard for miles around. On the other hand, maybe not, cos the Doctor Who Exhibition has closed there. Seems only half a trip this time.

Twinkies

I   don’t think this is necessarily funny per se. Though I must confess meeting Sandy the snack food Goddess was one  of the highlights of the last trip. What I find funny, still to the point of tears, was Wesley’s comment here, in relation to the Twinkies.  He remains on my list and will pay. Oh how he will pay.

The Intriguing

Skippy

The notion of eating kangaroo generated a load of interest from outside my usual readers. Clearly the idea of eating Australian cuisine is something I  should explore more often as it struck a chord. Having said that I can’t think of  Australian cuisine other than damper  that I have eaten recently. I guess I could pretend I have eaten crocodile in the last week but, as I am living on optifast, that seems cruel to everyone, especially my tummy. Consider the idea on the back burner….

Saul

I had forgotten this occurred, which is a shame as it remains a remarkably sweet moment in my life. It’s lovely when young people think you’re amazing and aren’t quite grown up enough yet to know you’re full of something less amazing. This was one of those moments. I hope to see Saul again when I return in a few weeks. Hopefully  he hasn’t grown up too much to see through me.

Brad

This was the moment the blog took off, riding purely on Mr Royuk’s coattails. I still remain irritated by the server that night which is an indication to me that I need to move on. Meeting the Bradster was quite delightful even if the night was amazingly loud. Next time we ARE going to the Outback Steakhouse. I even have the address. Keep May free Brad. On the strength of that one post, my stats went from a measly ten people a day to a much more respectable number. For a hit whore such as myself, this was incredibly helpful as I was starting to despair at how few people were reading. That, it would appear, people have continued to read this gives me great joy.

Queer Eye

Ahhhhhh my makeover. The last time I got  a haircut too, so doubly important. (Evidently I am sooooooooooooo close to 10 kgs…)  I still remain in shock when I see myself in something other than a blue shirt. Four months later and I still do a double take in the mirror. As a result of that experience my laundry bill has skyrocketed, I have layers which I look at fondly and pray for colder weather so I can wear them again (though I should be well layered in Europe); I am fastidious about attacking my nose and ear hair. I remain patiently waiting for Wesley to come decorate my house. This is, after all, only fair. He owes me for the Twinkie remark.

Dock

Simply put. Best morning ever. One of those remember all your days moments.

The Top Three

The most popular blog posts; in terms of emails and hits and comments, last year. And if you had asked me at the beginning of the year, I could have predicated none of them.  Completely out of the left field, the lot of them. I do not know what it says about my readership or my writing or what… all I know is that these three were PHENOMENAL. So in reverse order then…

Macrame

I know! I don’t get it either. Who knew. The debate about the pronunciation of a word became my first genuine steamroller. People went mental. I got abusive emails telling me the American (Wesley’s) pronunciation was correct, I got email telling me the English (my) pronunciation was correct ( which obviously I believed).  Ultimately it was never really resolved, though equally obviously it is pronounced MahCrahMay.  That people became so obsessive over it was really fascinating. I had loads of hits over that blog. And Wesley still mispronounces it, which saddens me. (Twinkies……)

Toilet

This was a runaway train. I still get people writing to me telling me it’s the funniest thing they have read. I love the fact people laughed so much at it. It makes the incident of urinating in front of the Queen slightly more bearable. Slightly. I still have to face her again at some point. What I didn’t mention in that blog, as at the time I was mortified by the whole experience, was that in the process of failing at urination I got myself literally soaked with urine. Literally the front of my pants were sodden. Thank God it is the style to wear your shirt outside of our pants as this made the wet patch less notable though I remained appalled that everyone could smell it. Then the Queen takes me to her study to show me her books all the while my pants are wet and I am desperately trying to leave and yet show a respectable amount of politeness. I was beside myself with embarrassment.

I seem to have many days that live in family infamy.

And finally, no one predicted this one.

Gomco

There is a throwaway line in this blog , about my eye cancer (by the way, do you know when I have an appointment to get that checked. June 6th!!! and this is with private cover!!! JW better be wrong. Back to the story), that mentions Wesley’s desire to circumcise me. This was taken  further in the comments of this blog and mentioned occasionally over the next week. Well more than occasionally. The thing is, there was method is my madness. Whenever I mentioned it, or it got mentioned in the comments, my stats would skyrocket. Literally quintuple. It got so I would mention it off the cuff to see if the same phenomena occurred (which it did.)

Personally I have found the whole experience really funny. The comments about my being circumcised are some of the funniest ever (and if you do not read the comments you miss out on so much wonderful stuff) and there is clearly an audience that I have inadvertently tapped into. It is completely fascinating. I have spookily moved from my mindset of ‘no way re circumcision’ to ‘maybe I should let Wesley doit ‘ which makes me laugh and laugh at the things I would do to amuse my audience. Thank god they are not into immolation.

Circumcision week is coming. Bring popcorn.

I may make t shirts with that as a motto.

So that was long-winded wasn’t it. Thank you, as ever, for coming here and reading this silly little thing. Hopefully you will continue to do so over the next year. I am off to Europe in five weeks so things will pick up in terms of amusing, non circumcision, content.

Look forward to seeing you here.

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I’ve booked a ticket to the UK finally. Much like Christmas I like to have these things sorted well in advance. This, to me, is cutting it fine plus I miss out on airline specials. Ah well.

After I wrote this Qantas did an airline special where I could have saved 1.5 thousand by waiting! The Buggers. I had to cancel my previous ticket at the cost of $300 however still saved $1200 so win for me. Cheers for that.

I have six weeks prep time to get as much overtime as possible to pay for these sojourns and also make arrangements for when I am there. In the meantime, my drive shaft has died and the air conditioner saga rolls on and on and on, so basically looks like  it’s back to prostitution for me.  Last time this cost me money as I had to pay the clientelle but this time I’ve lost a little weight so, you know, I live in hope….

On a completely unrelated note, I have the worst rash on my back. It is Driving. Me. Mental. I just want to itch the crap out of it. As part of the cool down after a work out, my personal trainer gives me a back massage. Yesterday, as he deep tissue massaged my fricking annoying itchy skin, he told me I was “freaking him out” by all the orgasm noises I was making. Wuss. But damn it was wonderful. I am not sure why I have the rash. It is evidently a heat rash caused by sweating and lying on the rubber mats. I am also not convinced the  chlorine in the pool doesn’t have anything to do with it. I am not sure.

In a  rare moment, my GP and Wesley agreed with diagnoses. Amusingly my GP got VERY snitty with me when I suggested I wanted a further opinion on the ?BCC/? Meibomian Cyst on my eyelid as my friend in the US was convinced it was a BCC. Very snitty!!!! ha! I laughed. Anyway, I have a further appointment to get it assessed but was told by my GP that “if the specialist doesn’t believe it is a BCC, your friend must trust in his opinion.” To which I thought, you do not know my friend, my friend is not gonna be happy till it is removed and under a microscope but I kept schtumm.  The GP then wrote an amusingly veiled annoyance referral letter to the dermatologist.

Anyway time will tell. I hope Wesley is wrong cos then I can forget about it. I suspect though…

My father is 70 this year, in addition to his 50th Anniversary (god love him he was married when he was 20, a baby) and for his birthday present (again, God love him) wants a week in Disneyland Paris. I am currently looking for specials. He is such a big kid. Anyone still holding out hope that I am ever gonna grow up need stop wondering.

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