Perhaps I should expand upon my history as a serious 'fag hag' (hate that term, but don't have another one readily available). It probably began in my youth where the Parental Body surrounded me with a variety of interesting people who were to me simply "friends of the parents". The fact that "Bob and Cathy" were of different genders and "David and John" were not made absolutely no difference in my world view at that time. Actually, it still doesn't and I have a great deal of difficulty with people who make distinctions on these superficial grounds.
However, I took issue with unkind people at university who said to me "Betty - you have no straight male friends!" "Nonsense" I would reply, and refer them to my dear freind Headbang8 as an example. I should mention here that my definition of "straight male friend" is someone who:
a) is not a partner of an existiing girlfriend: and
b) I haven't slept with/am not planning to sleep with
Fairly simple paramaters I think.
Anyway, I will put here the item written by Headbang8 sometime after the occasion of his coming out. Remember, these are his words ...
Blog Title - High Maintenance Hags
OK, you're a single female. You have a gay male friend, in fact, you have several. Does that make you a fag hag? Almost, according to my Hag Numero Uno, Miss Betty Fjord.
"Well, that does it!" she replied after I came out to her. "Whenever anyone said 'Betty, all your male friend are gay', I could say, 'No, there's Headbang'. She sucked deeply and theatrically on a Marlboro Light, and stared into the middle distance. "I'm officially a fag hag".
I put my arm around her shoulder, conscious that this gesture no longer counted as flirting. "Haven't left you much wriggle room, I guess."
It took only a nanosecond for her to move into action. "You're 35. It's a little late. You want to be gay, sunshine? You'll have to shape up. I got my work cut out for me."
Since she had great experience of quality gay men, I listened. Her insta-Gay program included:
* No beer
* Nightly chardonnay
* shave head ("Only straight guys keep the Einsten wings after they go bald, Headbang. Use my Nair.")
* No watching team sports
* Matching cutlery
* Matching socks
* Tighter underwear ("Only straight guys hide their dicks behind the drapes, Headdy. Go out and bulge!")
* Get rid of the Land Rover
* Move in to her spare room
Over several years, I did all of these, under her close supervision (except the Nair). She particularly loved supervising the chardonnay, which needed to be chilled just so, and could contain no traces of oak, lest it butch up a perfectly poofy drink. She would suffer no butch affectations amongst her fags.
"But Betty," I protested. "I'm doing invert 101 at the Gay Men's Health Centre, and my teacher said there are actually some quite butch homosexuals, you know, with jeans and flannel shirts and stuff. Why can't I be one of those?"
"Of course there are butch homosexuals. They're called lesbians. And sometimes," she said wistfully, "I wish I were one of them."
"As a fag buddy, you realise that it's your duty to comfort me whenever a guy is thoughtless, inattentive, or dumps me for no good reason."
That would turn out to be often, so I felt if better to just move in.
*************
So said Headbang8 some years ago and the situation has hardly improved. I can say, however, that I DO have one straight male friend. It is Steve, the Delightful Accountant who might not qualify for the b) list if it were not for his wife J, who has credibly promised to eviscerate anyone who comes near him with lascivious intent. ANYONE!
The story of Headbang8 and Steve the Delightful Accountant and the Night of the Mistaken Bed Arrangements must be left for another time ...
Saturday, 26 July 2008
Tuesday, 22 July 2008
Tips for the observant ...
Well I have been a busy girl, haven't I?
The observant will note that I seem to have written a multitude of blog entries today ... but the even more observant will note that they span a passage of time which is none too recent.
The answer, dear friends, is that I had been blogging some time ago but was rudely interrupted by a pack I shall simply call the Hounds from Hell.
Well, I'm back - and having deleted all "controversial" content have reinstated some of the blog entries from last year.
You can't keep a good woman down ... :-D Stay tuned!
The observant will note that I seem to have written a multitude of blog entries today ... but the even more observant will note that they span a passage of time which is none too recent.
The answer, dear friends, is that I had been blogging some time ago but was rudely interrupted by a pack I shall simply call the Hounds from Hell.
Well, I'm back - and having deleted all "controversial" content have reinstated some of the blog entries from last year.
You can't keep a good woman down ... :-D Stay tuned!
The School Fete
"You're doing what?" shrieked the DIVA over the phone this morning as I advised her of my plans for the day.
"I am going to Tabular Christian College School Fete" I replied, stoicly. This, of course, is the school attended by Baby Angel, and as she had spent the night at my place (see the Bestie's latest blog entry for all the details) and had been telling me all about the hours spent wrapping sweeties in cellophane for her class stall, I couldn't be so churlish as to inform her that I'd rather stick pins in my eyes than attend.
Peals of laughter were the response from the DIVA. "Well make sure you buy something appropriate" she said. "Like a crucifix made of play doh!"
"And baked!" laughed I.
Famous last words ...
Yes, here it is. The "salt dough" crucifix made by some righteous third grader, cunningly festooned with cloves and topped with a ribbon to allow hanging on someone's christmas tree. Possibly not mine.
But wait - there's more! How about these treasures ...
Obviously made by the same artist - I could not resist adding the interesting sculpture (Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No! It's .... erm...) and the Mick Jagger look-a-like fridge magnet to my stash. 60 cents for the set of three is what I call money well spent!
Hat's off, however, to the innovative pre-school teacher who has found a use for all that finger painting. Roll up several sheets, put a ribbon around it and sell it as Christmas wrapping paper! At three rolls for a dollar, neither the Bestie nor I could resist.
And then there was the sausage sizzle. How could the DIVA think that I would not have a good time?
"I am going to Tabular Christian College School Fete" I replied, stoicly. This, of course, is the school attended by Baby Angel, and as she had spent the night at my place (see the Bestie's latest blog entry for all the details) and had been telling me all about the hours spent wrapping sweeties in cellophane for her class stall, I couldn't be so churlish as to inform her that I'd rather stick pins in my eyes than attend.
Peals of laughter were the response from the DIVA. "Well make sure you buy something appropriate" she said. "Like a crucifix made of play doh!"
"And baked!" laughed I.
Famous last words ...
Yes, here it is. The "salt dough" crucifix made by some righteous third grader, cunningly festooned with cloves and topped with a ribbon to allow hanging on someone's christmas tree. Possibly not mine.
But wait - there's more! How about these treasures ...
Obviously made by the same artist - I could not resist adding the interesting sculpture (Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No! It's .... erm...) and the Mick Jagger look-a-like fridge magnet to my stash. 60 cents for the set of three is what I call money well spent!
Hat's off, however, to the innovative pre-school teacher who has found a use for all that finger painting. Roll up several sheets, put a ribbon around it and sell it as Christmas wrapping paper! At three rolls for a dollar, neither the Bestie nor I could resist.
And then there was the sausage sizzle. How could the DIVA think that I would not have a good time?
Garden Success!
I am home early today, mainly because half my staff and practically none of my volunteers turned up at the COMPULSORY workshop today. Grrrrmph! I shall have words with several tomorrow ...
Anyway, the up side is that it is a glorious warm day and the garden is looking beautiful! It's only been a year since the delighful landscape people took a very large portion of my bank balance and transformed a hideous, scraggy mess into the delight we see today.
And I am especially impressed with my flowering "bird of paradise". Just look!
Of course, we must all enjoy it while we can as water restrictions are going to play havoc with beautiful gardens over the next several months. However, with drippers now allowed for 3 hours a week (woo hoo!!!) I have some expectation that my plants will survive.
And the lawn? Tough as old nails - it'll be back next year!
Anyway, the up side is that it is a glorious warm day and the garden is looking beautiful! It's only been a year since the delighful landscape people took a very large portion of my bank balance and transformed a hideous, scraggy mess into the delight we see today.
And I am especially impressed with my flowering "bird of paradise". Just look!
Of course, we must all enjoy it while we can as water restrictions are going to play havoc with beautiful gardens over the next several months. However, with drippers now allowed for 3 hours a week (woo hoo!!!) I have some expectation that my plants will survive.
And the lawn? Tough as old nails - it'll be back next year!
Decor ...
Last night, several gay men came to my house and re-arranged my lounge room furniture.
What more can I say?
What more can I say?
The long weekend
What a fabulous weekend it has been! Last week I had blocked out Thursday and Friday to attend a work-related course. On Tuesday, the course was cancelled - but having made no appointments for those days I thought I'd take a some annual leave and have a bit of a mini-break.
On Thursday I met up with my Cousin for a gourmet burger down at the Bay. A couple of years ago, the Adelaide entrant in a reality show called My Restaurant Rules won the series and their restaurant, The Greedy Goose, is still going strong and remains one of my favourite eateries. This year they've opened up a gourmet burger restaurant at Glenelg and so far I've sampled a couple of varieties. The 'beef and brie' was gorgeous, but I think Thursday's Lamb with roasted shallots, salami, slow roasted tomatoes, rocket and goats curd was even better. Add a couple of glasses of Sauvignon Blanc and non-stop conversation (this is my family we're talking about) and it's the recipe for a great afternoon.
This was followed on Thursday evening by a wonderful and somewhat drunken evening with the Bestie and The DIVA - in town for a family reunion. The DIVA had escaped husband and children and was in fine form, downing champagne like there was no tomorrow. Although we were denied a lounge-room performance on this occasion (generally possible after the application of a judicious quantity of bubbles and a carefully chosen CD), we did get to practice explosive pelvic floor exercises and generally have a fine old time.
The Bestie - freed from the rigours of parenthood for the week with Baby Angel off in Fiji with her Father - was able to have a sleepover! We were a little bleary eyed the following day, but a breakfast of pancakes soon fixed that and we sallied forth for a long walk by the Torrens River and trip to the Zoo. It was a glorious day, and a number of animals that are generally sleeping in a corner whenever I visit were up and about - most notably the red pandas and the beavers which I have never seen before! We had a lovely day - only managing to see about half the zoo in the time available - and have vowed to return soon... The strategy of parking the car 3 km from the zoo also paid off with no option but to walk off the chips and ice-cream on our way back to the car. All in the interests of developing Buns of Steel! Or at least silly putty...
Saturday was going to be my rest day with nothing particular planned. However, I thought I would go to one of our local electrical retailers and have a look at DVD recorders as I'd promised the parental body I would bequeath them my old DVD/amplifier/surround sound system. Well they didn't have a DVD I liked - but there was this fabulous flat panel LCD TV at an absolute bargain price that it would have been a crime not to buy ...
Of course, then I had to get the wall bracket, a new (and smaller) TV stand, a DVD recorder from another store and the cabling to make it all work ...
"Right" thought I, after managing to unload this booty from the car. "Let's get out the power drill and get the wall mounting unit in place!" Easier said than done as it turned out... First, of course, I had to unplug the old system and get it ready for transport to the Parental's. Then if was a matter of moving the furniture and getting rid of (now) extraneous items. Then vacuum 3 years worth of accumulated dust.
Then find out that the bricks used to build my back room are possibly the hardest and most durable variety in the universe. Instructions said to drill 6 holes to 60mm depth with 12mm masonary drill bit. Fine. Measuring up was fine. Marking the position of 6 holes was fine. Drilling into the wall was not fine - it defeated my cordless drill and almost burnt out the motor of my high speed hammer drill. When this started shooting sparks at my head I decided it was time to quit - with not one of the holes more than 30mm deep.
Time to get a little man in ...
Actually, when I'd set up the TV in its temporary location, it actually looked fine and worked well in the space.
Time to get out the spakfilla...
Sunday morning was spent getting rid of boxes, packing materials, drills bits, screws and other paraphernalia in anticipation of a visit from the Parental Body, The DIVA and her entire brood for a barbeque tea. It was a lovely afternoon with the Parental Body (Dear Old Dad in particular) being most taken with new flat panel LCD TV and re-thinking whether they really needed 45 kilos of old fashioned tele... By the end of the afternoon, we all thought not.
Little Lord Fauntleroy was hugely entertained by "Back to the Future" in the cinema room, Hamster and Little Miss were on their best behaviour (thank goodness for high chairs!) and the whole occasion passed off very enjoyably and without a hissy fit from anyone. Yeah!!!
To round off the weekend, the Bestie and her GG popped in after the SA Grand Final (sadly not winners as I'm sure you will read in her blog) for a couple of quickies between functions and the opportunity to slag off and the Australian Idol contestants.
Do weekends get any better?
On Thursday I met up with my Cousin for a gourmet burger down at the Bay. A couple of years ago, the Adelaide entrant in a reality show called My Restaurant Rules won the series and their restaurant, The Greedy Goose, is still going strong and remains one of my favourite eateries. This year they've opened up a gourmet burger restaurant at Glenelg and so far I've sampled a couple of varieties. The 'beef and brie' was gorgeous, but I think Thursday's Lamb with roasted shallots, salami, slow roasted tomatoes, rocket and goats curd was even better. Add a couple of glasses of Sauvignon Blanc and non-stop conversation (this is my family we're talking about) and it's the recipe for a great afternoon.
This was followed on Thursday evening by a wonderful and somewhat drunken evening with the Bestie and The DIVA - in town for a family reunion. The DIVA had escaped husband and children and was in fine form, downing champagne like there was no tomorrow. Although we were denied a lounge-room performance on this occasion (generally possible after the application of a judicious quantity of bubbles and a carefully chosen CD), we did get to practice explosive pelvic floor exercises and generally have a fine old time.
The Bestie - freed from the rigours of parenthood for the week with Baby Angel off in Fiji with her Father - was able to have a sleepover! We were a little bleary eyed the following day, but a breakfast of pancakes soon fixed that and we sallied forth for a long walk by the Torrens River and trip to the Zoo. It was a glorious day, and a number of animals that are generally sleeping in a corner whenever I visit were up and about - most notably the red pandas and the beavers which I have never seen before! We had a lovely day - only managing to see about half the zoo in the time available - and have vowed to return soon... The strategy of parking the car 3 km from the zoo also paid off with no option but to walk off the chips and ice-cream on our way back to the car. All in the interests of developing Buns of Steel! Or at least silly putty...
Saturday was going to be my rest day with nothing particular planned. However, I thought I would go to one of our local electrical retailers and have a look at DVD recorders as I'd promised the parental body I would bequeath them my old DVD/amplifier/surround sound system. Well they didn't have a DVD I liked - but there was this fabulous flat panel LCD TV at an absolute bargain price that it would have been a crime not to buy ...
Of course, then I had to get the wall bracket, a new (and smaller) TV stand, a DVD recorder from another store and the cabling to make it all work ...
"Right" thought I, after managing to unload this booty from the car. "Let's get out the power drill and get the wall mounting unit in place!" Easier said than done as it turned out... First, of course, I had to unplug the old system and get it ready for transport to the Parental's. Then if was a matter of moving the furniture and getting rid of (now) extraneous items. Then vacuum 3 years worth of accumulated dust.
Then find out that the bricks used to build my back room are possibly the hardest and most durable variety in the universe. Instructions said to drill 6 holes to 60mm depth with 12mm masonary drill bit. Fine. Measuring up was fine. Marking the position of 6 holes was fine. Drilling into the wall was not fine - it defeated my cordless drill and almost burnt out the motor of my high speed hammer drill. When this started shooting sparks at my head I decided it was time to quit - with not one of the holes more than 30mm deep.
Time to get a little man in ...
Actually, when I'd set up the TV in its temporary location, it actually looked fine and worked well in the space.
Time to get out the spakfilla...
Sunday morning was spent getting rid of boxes, packing materials, drills bits, screws and other paraphernalia in anticipation of a visit from the Parental Body, The DIVA and her entire brood for a barbeque tea. It was a lovely afternoon with the Parental Body (Dear Old Dad in particular) being most taken with new flat panel LCD TV and re-thinking whether they really needed 45 kilos of old fashioned tele... By the end of the afternoon, we all thought not.
Little Lord Fauntleroy was hugely entertained by "Back to the Future" in the cinema room, Hamster and Little Miss were on their best behaviour (thank goodness for high chairs!) and the whole occasion passed off very enjoyably and without a hissy fit from anyone. Yeah!!!
To round off the weekend, the Bestie and her GG popped in after the SA Grand Final (sadly not winners as I'm sure you will read in her blog) for a couple of quickies between functions and the opportunity to slag off and the Australian Idol contestants.
Do weekends get any better?
The School Musical
Any of you who have had occasion to visit the Bestie's blog cannot fail to have noticed that she has been extremely busy doing costumes and stage management for her school play. My dear Arizaphale is never backwards about taking on extra-curricula activities and I know she enjoys the theatre, so it has been good to see her so enthused about this production.
The only problem with the whole process is that - eventually - the time comes when rehearsals are over and the production is ready to go. For which an audience is required. Which means me.
One thing that friends do is support each other by attending significant events in each other's lives. Even when those events include theatrical productions of ... erm ... dubious quality.
Over the years I have attended not one, but two, end of year concerts by the KL (or was it JL?) Dance Academy where the Bestie was doing jazz and tap. Every class (and there were many of them) had at least one number they had painstakingly prepared for our enjoyment. The problem was that there was only one choreographer and so after a few numbers, one noticed a certain 'sameness' creeping into the routines. After the first 20 it became painful. After 30 or so the audience had slipped into a glassy eyed stupor. And then there was interval...
A description of the wondrous occasion on which the Bestie and I travelled south to witness an amateur production of "Amahl and the Night Visitors" I shall leave for another occasion.
In her teaching capacity, the Bestie has treated me to two theatrical productions being "Reigning Cats and Dogs" for her first School and the latest offering "Pilgrim - the Musical" for this one. Both stunning original pieces penned (and scored) by ecstatic 'Happy Clappy's - possibly on crack.
Most of you would be aware that the Bestie and I have vastly different views on religion. She has it and I don't. So the very Christian subject matter of these musicals was always going to be somewhat of a problem for me - but I was prepared to put this prejudice aside and enjoy them on the basis of their merits. Erm...
Sadly, "merit" is not the word that comes to mind.
Despite the Bestie's sterling efforts (the costumes were excellent and I have rarely seen such magnificent stage management) the latest offering, "Pilgrim", was not exactly a wonder of modern theatre. Based (loosely) on John Bunyan's "The Pilgrim's Progress" the show lurched from musical number to musical number - the sameness of which made the KL Dance experience seem like a variety show in comparison.
To begin with, I thought the young cast had been caught in religious fervour and were speaking in tongues - but then I realised it was just that they were mumbling so much it was impossible to make out what they were saying. The lead singer/actor had quite a nice voice - and all the personality and charisma on stage of a limp dish-rag. And where on earth did a good Christian boy get that incredibly semitic nose?
All the other singer/actors should go to singing lessons, go directly to singing lessons and, for goodness sake, NEVER go on stage again until they've learned to hold a note.
At times the monotony of the musical numbers was somewhat relieved by the inexplicable presence on stage of a very fine rhythmic gymnast complete with ribbon. Lovely, but pointless. One girl woke the audience up from time to time with a couple of spirited cameos - and even managed to elicit a laugh! - but such flashes of talent from the young cast were sadly few and far between. And what was with the cotton wool angel wings?
To add insult to injury, the show lasted a good 2 1/2 hours which had Baby Angel and I whispering "are we there yet?" on several occasions as the Pilgrim appeared to be Progressing not at all.
Bit of a shame we were sitting in front of the Director. Whoops!
I am as yet undecided whether "Pilgrim" rates above or below "Reigning Cats and Dogs" on the nightmare-o-metre. Certainly the production values for "Pilgrim" were better (as were the stage management and costumes - did I mention that?) and we were at least spared being led in prayer by the school principal before the show. On the other hand, "Cats and Dogs" was shorter.
Ah well, at least the Bestie enjoyed it and got to spend time in one of our old haunts (the Scott Theatre) again. The kids obviously had a good time also and will inevitably have profited from the experience.
And I have completed my penance for this year. Mea Culpa ...
The only problem with the whole process is that - eventually - the time comes when rehearsals are over and the production is ready to go. For which an audience is required. Which means me.
One thing that friends do is support each other by attending significant events in each other's lives. Even when those events include theatrical productions of ... erm ... dubious quality.
Over the years I have attended not one, but two, end of year concerts by the KL (or was it JL?) Dance Academy where the Bestie was doing jazz and tap. Every class (and there were many of them) had at least one number they had painstakingly prepared for our enjoyment. The problem was that there was only one choreographer and so after a few numbers, one noticed a certain 'sameness' creeping into the routines. After the first 20 it became painful. After 30 or so the audience had slipped into a glassy eyed stupor. And then there was interval...
A description of the wondrous occasion on which the Bestie and I travelled south to witness an amateur production of "Amahl and the Night Visitors" I shall leave for another occasion.
In her teaching capacity, the Bestie has treated me to two theatrical productions being "Reigning Cats and Dogs" for her first School and the latest offering "Pilgrim - the Musical" for this one. Both stunning original pieces penned (and scored) by ecstatic 'Happy Clappy's - possibly on crack.
Most of you would be aware that the Bestie and I have vastly different views on religion. She has it and I don't. So the very Christian subject matter of these musicals was always going to be somewhat of a problem for me - but I was prepared to put this prejudice aside and enjoy them on the basis of their merits. Erm...
Sadly, "merit" is not the word that comes to mind.
Despite the Bestie's sterling efforts (the costumes were excellent and I have rarely seen such magnificent stage management) the latest offering, "Pilgrim", was not exactly a wonder of modern theatre. Based (loosely) on John Bunyan's "The Pilgrim's Progress" the show lurched from musical number to musical number - the sameness of which made the KL Dance experience seem like a variety show in comparison.
To begin with, I thought the young cast had been caught in religious fervour and were speaking in tongues - but then I realised it was just that they were mumbling so much it was impossible to make out what they were saying. The lead singer/actor had quite a nice voice - and all the personality and charisma on stage of a limp dish-rag. And where on earth did a good Christian boy get that incredibly semitic nose?
All the other singer/actors should go to singing lessons, go directly to singing lessons and, for goodness sake, NEVER go on stage again until they've learned to hold a note.
At times the monotony of the musical numbers was somewhat relieved by the inexplicable presence on stage of a very fine rhythmic gymnast complete with ribbon. Lovely, but pointless. One girl woke the audience up from time to time with a couple of spirited cameos - and even managed to elicit a laugh! - but such flashes of talent from the young cast were sadly few and far between. And what was with the cotton wool angel wings?
To add insult to injury, the show lasted a good 2 1/2 hours which had Baby Angel and I whispering "are we there yet?" on several occasions as the Pilgrim appeared to be Progressing not at all.
Bit of a shame we were sitting in front of the Director. Whoops!
I am as yet undecided whether "Pilgrim" rates above or below "Reigning Cats and Dogs" on the nightmare-o-metre. Certainly the production values for "Pilgrim" were better (as were the stage management and costumes - did I mention that?) and we were at least spared being led in prayer by the school principal before the show. On the other hand, "Cats and Dogs" was shorter.
Ah well, at least the Bestie enjoyed it and got to spend time in one of our old haunts (the Scott Theatre) again. The kids obviously had a good time also and will inevitably have profited from the experience.
And I have completed my penance for this year. Mea Culpa ...
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