Thursday, July 23, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
It's Better to Know
Hubby was outside washing the truck, I was watching Hell's Kitchen on T.V. The door opened and it was Brandon and I could hear hubby outside, "come outside, you need to come outside now".
At the edge of the driveway stood hubby, with a shovel, with a huge black ball of fur, with little white tufts poking out of it's curled body. It was Sylvester.
The neighbour came over and said there was a horrid smell coming from behind their storage shed. It was him. Not broken, not chewed, not ripped apart and bleeding. He was curled up, silent. Hubby said his neck seemed loose when he shoveled him up, but he didn't want to look anymore. I asked were his eyes open, shut. He didn't know. The smell was overpowering.
We buried him topside the creek nearby, near the huge tree that gives lots of shade and protection from the sun, and the coyotes. In the Fall the tree will shed it's leaves on him, covering him over and over again as each season will pass, until he is turned into dark, rich soil, feeding the plant life and sustaining the salmon creek below. He would have liked that.
He was 17 years old. He was my cat. And I loved him.
At the edge of the driveway stood hubby, with a shovel, with a huge black ball of fur, with little white tufts poking out of it's curled body. It was Sylvester.
The neighbour came over and said there was a horrid smell coming from behind their storage shed. It was him. Not broken, not chewed, not ripped apart and bleeding. He was curled up, silent. Hubby said his neck seemed loose when he shoveled him up, but he didn't want to look anymore. I asked were his eyes open, shut. He didn't know. The smell was overpowering.
We buried him topside the creek nearby, near the huge tree that gives lots of shade and protection from the sun, and the coyotes. In the Fall the tree will shed it's leaves on him, covering him over and over again as each season will pass, until he is turned into dark, rich soil, feeding the plant life and sustaining the salmon creek below. He would have liked that.
He was 17 years old. He was my cat. And I loved him.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Back to Higher Grounds
I didn't know he had brought a woman with them until I stepped out of the tent and into the morning breath of the lake. I heard her voice, but I wasn't certain where it came from. It didn't project in a manner one is used to hearing of a woman's voice; crisp, feminine, clean. This voice sounded dirty, far away, and drunk.
Steven brought her to our camp site for the day, promising to take her boating, and knowing Steven, she probably anticipated a large yacht with endless drink. But at 9:30 in the morning, she had past the point when it didn't matter, sleepy-eyed with Bloody Mary stains already on the front of her green blouse. She couldn't keep her head held up, it bobbed sideways and forward and back, as she spoke, her face aged and limp, excess skin flapped where her cheeks should have been and her eyes drooped in and out of consciousness.
Steven is also drunk and can barely stand up without swaying to the beat of his heart, which amazingly still pumps, despite the alcohol poisoning. He is skinner and we know this means he's drinking heavily again, not eating, not sleeping. He seeks out sex with whomever will have it with him, and it usually is the likes of this woman here now, pissing away my expensive suntan lotion over the boozy stink of her shoulders and arms, preparing for the sun in the whispers of insanity.
She has scabies or herpes or ringworm, something on her skin doesn't look right. I'm not certain which one it is. But I do know it's not normal to have sores on the skin, open wounds, which are now lathered in sunblock. Did she know what day it was. Did she even know it was morning. For all I wanted to say, but didn't, was how could you be so drunk already on this fine Saturday morning.
I don't know if Sabrina and Brandon understand what's happening, do they realize this woman is not normal, or that we've got company. They are happily playing in the park nearby, swinging, diving down the slide, hidden from the realities of stretches of time and hurt and what it does to one's body. I don't want to be like that, ever. I wish, a little, there had been a slide for the kids at home. You can't run away from time, but you can hide it's mistakes, sometimes even pretend they're miracles. Or blame it on the rain.
By the time we're in the middle of the lake she has already passed out. Her head is propped backwards, her hair is wallowing in the wind, curly like the wake of the boat, splashing and spurning white lather. It has only taken us mere seconds to reach the center of the lake, the motor has sung it's lullaby to her, and the kids are shouting for the wake board to sail them above the watery depths. I turn the music up louder, surround sounds of heavy metal guitars and drums, all seven of us captured in the tiny frame of the speedboat, where there should only be four. Somehow the music made it better, made it safer.
She awakens to the pop of a cooler bottle, as I release one cap after the other, pop, pop, the fizz escaping like a genie, her eyes widen as she receives this offering from me, a perfect stranger. We have only just met, yet I know everything about her, everything I need to know. She is content with this boat trip, and probably will have sex tonight with Steven, his reward for taking her to a place she has never gone before.
Deep in the bouncing flickers of light, like ghost flickers, guarding the mountains and cliffs bearing white crosses where divers have plunged to their deaths, she keeps her eyes open just long enough to witness their last moment.
Darren, the other hapless soul, decides to wear a lifejacket and mistakenly puts on Sabrina's. He doesn't realize it's too small, only being comforted by a floating device that's supposed to save his ass because he's convinced we're all going to drown. He frantically pulls the safety buckles together, yanking at them so that they connect, but they do not reach, his waist is much too large for this jacket. He finally resolves to death-gripping both sides, until I pass him a drink, the jacket suddenly flaps open in the wind's current and his mouth is now soothed by the bitters of the flavoured cider.
He is more normal than most drunks. He's a half drunk, knowing when to start and stop drinking, knowing where the money is that pays for the booze and the meals, and the girls. At this point I'm wondering about this woman, and where she came from.........and who she came with.
There are other boats on the lake and they have already stirred up a chop, small churnings of the water that can propel a high speedboat into a hammer. The backs of the my legs are bruised from the banging of the waves, as I crash in my seat, uncontrollably bouncing in the air, kept in the boat by the sheer grace of gravity. I turn back to make sure she' still there, alive. Occasionally, she will open her eyes and smile, holding tightly to her bottle, missing her mouth by inches, the cider flies out to the tow line that links Sabrina to me. This is all too much now. I can't have this, I can't have this person here, enjoying my day, enjoying my time. This was supposed to be about me.
Sabrina holds on and motions thumbs up and wants to go faster. But I can't watch her and drive and think and worry and ponder and be angry and give up at the same time. I push the throttle forward, faster and faster until we are no longer boating. We are now flying. And Sabrina is smiling like an angel, like the God's have smiled down on her pretty face and said, "today, you will see what we see".
The boat begins to crackle on the waves and I've become aware I'm the only one not smiling, but I'm also the only one driving and can feel the uncertainty beneath the gears gripped by my hand. We are going too fast and I pull the throttle back down, hard, as we dead stop into a large wave approaching Sabrina's path.
She rips the goggles away from her face, furious we have stopped and yells that we've just missed a good one. The wave passes us and she rocks up and down, as Daniel tows in the rope bringing her closer to mother's relief and buoyancy. He recognizes, as any good palm reader would, I am not enjoying this ride and proposes we all go back for more cider, and without even discussing it, Darren and the woman are abandoned on the lake shore.
Darren jumps off the boat, jeans and running shoes intact, while she flops into the floating tube, just barely, and spreads herself out for balance. She looks like starfish, pink arms and legs protruding overboard like dead weight. We can't bring the boat too close to shore because the rocks will damage the hull, and we slowly release the rope, allowing the tube and it's cargo to float to the sandy beach. Steven wants to stay on and go for a ride, a faster ride. He never used to be this brave.
We start the motors, one, then two, taking the boat out of neutral, and within seconds we have once again escaped to the liquid sun, camouflaged by the reflection of ancient craters, monuments Steven will undoubtedly forget because I already hear pop, pop, pop.
The lake shore pushes away from us, until it curves and loses itself into hidden harbours and evergreen forests, until we are deep in the lake and horizon blue, with not a cloud in the sky, nor the woman.
Steven is so fulfilled to be with us, in this time and place, didn't matter where or how or when or what, he bursts into rants of yester-years, releasing bits of contorted memories. He still thinks we're related by marriage, though it has long since entrenched itself up on the ridge wth the other divers. Daniel and I are merely acquaintances of someone else's vows, where he won't let go and won't let us forget.
As Sabrina carves into the water, slicing it into two, we are also content to have Steven with us right now, both who are infecting us with gallant laughter. Brandon doesn't want a turn. He's still afraid of letting go and being tossed amongst the fishes and seaweed and monsters, and as we steady ourselves to catch another breath, Steven requests that we take him back......back to Darren and the woman, where he belongs.
And as he stumbles and trips over rocks, falling into the water, rushing, surging to the shore, I realize he has finally let go. Darren pulls him up and carries him out like he's a wounded soldier, battered by the realities of life and family, and they disappear into the trail ushering them back to their existences, back to higher grounds.
Steven brought her to our camp site for the day, promising to take her boating, and knowing Steven, she probably anticipated a large yacht with endless drink. But at 9:30 in the morning, she had past the point when it didn't matter, sleepy-eyed with Bloody Mary stains already on the front of her green blouse. She couldn't keep her head held up, it bobbed sideways and forward and back, as she spoke, her face aged and limp, excess skin flapped where her cheeks should have been and her eyes drooped in and out of consciousness.
Steven is also drunk and can barely stand up without swaying to the beat of his heart, which amazingly still pumps, despite the alcohol poisoning. He is skinner and we know this means he's drinking heavily again, not eating, not sleeping. He seeks out sex with whomever will have it with him, and it usually is the likes of this woman here now, pissing away my expensive suntan lotion over the boozy stink of her shoulders and arms, preparing for the sun in the whispers of insanity.
She has scabies or herpes or ringworm, something on her skin doesn't look right. I'm not certain which one it is. But I do know it's not normal to have sores on the skin, open wounds, which are now lathered in sunblock. Did she know what day it was. Did she even know it was morning. For all I wanted to say, but didn't, was how could you be so drunk already on this fine Saturday morning.
I don't know if Sabrina and Brandon understand what's happening, do they realize this woman is not normal, or that we've got company. They are happily playing in the park nearby, swinging, diving down the slide, hidden from the realities of stretches of time and hurt and what it does to one's body. I don't want to be like that, ever. I wish, a little, there had been a slide for the kids at home. You can't run away from time, but you can hide it's mistakes, sometimes even pretend they're miracles. Or blame it on the rain.
By the time we're in the middle of the lake she has already passed out. Her head is propped backwards, her hair is wallowing in the wind, curly like the wake of the boat, splashing and spurning white lather. It has only taken us mere seconds to reach the center of the lake, the motor has sung it's lullaby to her, and the kids are shouting for the wake board to sail them above the watery depths. I turn the music up louder, surround sounds of heavy metal guitars and drums, all seven of us captured in the tiny frame of the speedboat, where there should only be four. Somehow the music made it better, made it safer.
She awakens to the pop of a cooler bottle, as I release one cap after the other, pop, pop, the fizz escaping like a genie, her eyes widen as she receives this offering from me, a perfect stranger. We have only just met, yet I know everything about her, everything I need to know. She is content with this boat trip, and probably will have sex tonight with Steven, his reward for taking her to a place she has never gone before.
Deep in the bouncing flickers of light, like ghost flickers, guarding the mountains and cliffs bearing white crosses where divers have plunged to their deaths, she keeps her eyes open just long enough to witness their last moment.
Darren, the other hapless soul, decides to wear a lifejacket and mistakenly puts on Sabrina's. He doesn't realize it's too small, only being comforted by a floating device that's supposed to save his ass because he's convinced we're all going to drown. He frantically pulls the safety buckles together, yanking at them so that they connect, but they do not reach, his waist is much too large for this jacket. He finally resolves to death-gripping both sides, until I pass him a drink, the jacket suddenly flaps open in the wind's current and his mouth is now soothed by the bitters of the flavoured cider.
He is more normal than most drunks. He's a half drunk, knowing when to start and stop drinking, knowing where the money is that pays for the booze and the meals, and the girls. At this point I'm wondering about this woman, and where she came from.........and who she came with.
There are other boats on the lake and they have already stirred up a chop, small churnings of the water that can propel a high speedboat into a hammer. The backs of the my legs are bruised from the banging of the waves, as I crash in my seat, uncontrollably bouncing in the air, kept in the boat by the sheer grace of gravity. I turn back to make sure she' still there, alive. Occasionally, she will open her eyes and smile, holding tightly to her bottle, missing her mouth by inches, the cider flies out to the tow line that links Sabrina to me. This is all too much now. I can't have this, I can't have this person here, enjoying my day, enjoying my time. This was supposed to be about me.
Sabrina holds on and motions thumbs up and wants to go faster. But I can't watch her and drive and think and worry and ponder and be angry and give up at the same time. I push the throttle forward, faster and faster until we are no longer boating. We are now flying. And Sabrina is smiling like an angel, like the God's have smiled down on her pretty face and said, "today, you will see what we see".
The boat begins to crackle on the waves and I've become aware I'm the only one not smiling, but I'm also the only one driving and can feel the uncertainty beneath the gears gripped by my hand. We are going too fast and I pull the throttle back down, hard, as we dead stop into a large wave approaching Sabrina's path.
She rips the goggles away from her face, furious we have stopped and yells that we've just missed a good one. The wave passes us and she rocks up and down, as Daniel tows in the rope bringing her closer to mother's relief and buoyancy. He recognizes, as any good palm reader would, I am not enjoying this ride and proposes we all go back for more cider, and without even discussing it, Darren and the woman are abandoned on the lake shore.
Darren jumps off the boat, jeans and running shoes intact, while she flops into the floating tube, just barely, and spreads herself out for balance. She looks like starfish, pink arms and legs protruding overboard like dead weight. We can't bring the boat too close to shore because the rocks will damage the hull, and we slowly release the rope, allowing the tube and it's cargo to float to the sandy beach. Steven wants to stay on and go for a ride, a faster ride. He never used to be this brave.
We start the motors, one, then two, taking the boat out of neutral, and within seconds we have once again escaped to the liquid sun, camouflaged by the reflection of ancient craters, monuments Steven will undoubtedly forget because I already hear pop, pop, pop.
The lake shore pushes away from us, until it curves and loses itself into hidden harbours and evergreen forests, until we are deep in the lake and horizon blue, with not a cloud in the sky, nor the woman.
Steven is so fulfilled to be with us, in this time and place, didn't matter where or how or when or what, he bursts into rants of yester-years, releasing bits of contorted memories. He still thinks we're related by marriage, though it has long since entrenched itself up on the ridge wth the other divers. Daniel and I are merely acquaintances of someone else's vows, where he won't let go and won't let us forget.
As Sabrina carves into the water, slicing it into two, we are also content to have Steven with us right now, both who are infecting us with gallant laughter. Brandon doesn't want a turn. He's still afraid of letting go and being tossed amongst the fishes and seaweed and monsters, and as we steady ourselves to catch another breath, Steven requests that we take him back......back to Darren and the woman, where he belongs.
And as he stumbles and trips over rocks, falling into the water, rushing, surging to the shore, I realize he has finally let go. Darren pulls him up and carries him out like he's a wounded soldier, battered by the realities of life and family, and they disappear into the trail ushering them back to their existences, back to higher grounds.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Riding the White Saddle
There's two things in the world that can ruin a camping trip; 1) a menstrual cycle, and 2) someone elses menstrual cycle. Fortunately, these are far less annoying than watching two weeks of Michael Jackson tributes, which we missed by being at camp.
There were other issues that bothered me, too, such as women my own age who insisted on calling me "dude", and women who really didn't drink alcohol but insisted on throwing caution to the wind and experiencing it at my campsite. One woman in particular had an Italian mother-in-law, 70's, crusty and loud. She understood English but mostly spoke Italian and she was always pissed off about something. I soon discovered a nifty trick of blurting out "parmesan", which would ease the old bag into softer recipe chat.
My ex brother-in-law, Steve, dropped by one day with two of his buddies. One was clean and sober, the other was one eyed and toothless. By one eyed I mean he squinted, occasionally opening one eye. I played a mental game of watching which eye would open, left, left, sometimes right, left, but never at the same time. It helped distract me from his mouth and my sordid desire to ask if he can whistle. He told me he was a twin, but that his brother had died in the womb and how he can feel his twin still kick him in the ribs. I didn't have the heart to explain it wasn't the ghost of his brother but rather his liver and kidneys retaliating. Surprisingly, Steve has wonderful teeth for a drunk, but bad instincts for picking buddies. People can only stand a drunk for so long before hinting for their departure turned into "get the fuck out of here".
Sabrina's best childhood friend came to visit from Sudbury, Ontario and since we were at camp, they also had to camp, which isn't all that difficult with a 29 foot trailer with sleeping arrangements for eight, two plasma TVs, XBox, Rockstar, Nintendo 360, Ipods, Iphones, two playstation portables and a laptop. Yet her friend wanted to play the "drinking game" called FUCK YOU. Now, I have allowed Sabrina to drink in the past, one or two under the supervision of me or hubby, but none of the teens in our neighbourhood even considered making a game out of it.
Here's how it went:
The game is best played with four or five people and all you need is booze, cards, and a person to count time. Lay the cards out in four rows and four columns and then deal out the rest of the deck. The counter flips over the first card in the first row and column and begins to count to three and if players have the card that was flipped they call out fuck you (fill in the name of the person you want to drink) which inevitably would be Sabrina.
The trick of the game is to be the last person to get to call fuck you to a person. If a person calls fuck you after the counter reaches three he must finish his drink.
What a stupid ass game! I could barely tolerate it, since it broke the one or two drinking rule previously established. But not wanting to be prudish, they continued until it was time for bed, or until the booze ran out. The game was never played again after that because her friend was up until 3am puking her guts out in the bathroom sink.
"Dude" woman proclaims to be a witch and one evening she decided to give us all a chakra healing or reading. Chakras are energy centers along the spine located at major branchings of the human nervous system, beginning at the base of the spinal column and moving upward to the top of the skull. The primary importance and level of existence of chakras is posited to be in the psyche. However, there are those who believe that chakras have a physical manifestation as well, which explained why she kept groping hubby and the father of Sabrina's friend.
My son Brandon has a friend at camp and they've known each other for years and since we both have seasonal sites, they see each other almost every weekend. There are also other families around us we have known or are acquainted with. One family just finalized a divorce; she got the trailer, he got the boat and ATVs. With the division of property it seemed to have finalized their marriage, something I don't think she really expected, nor the rest of us and her subsequent fiery behavior.
So now there were FOUR women I tried to avoid, all apparently riding the white saddle. And that didn't include Sabrina, the friend she brought along from home, or the visiting friend from Ontario, all of which still couldn't figure out how to flush the trailer toilet properly.
There were other issues that bothered me, too, such as women my own age who insisted on calling me "dude", and women who really didn't drink alcohol but insisted on throwing caution to the wind and experiencing it at my campsite. One woman in particular had an Italian mother-in-law, 70's, crusty and loud. She understood English but mostly spoke Italian and she was always pissed off about something. I soon discovered a nifty trick of blurting out "parmesan", which would ease the old bag into softer recipe chat.
My ex brother-in-law, Steve, dropped by one day with two of his buddies. One was clean and sober, the other was one eyed and toothless. By one eyed I mean he squinted, occasionally opening one eye. I played a mental game of watching which eye would open, left, left, sometimes right, left, but never at the same time. It helped distract me from his mouth and my sordid desire to ask if he can whistle. He told me he was a twin, but that his brother had died in the womb and how he can feel his twin still kick him in the ribs. I didn't have the heart to explain it wasn't the ghost of his brother but rather his liver and kidneys retaliating. Surprisingly, Steve has wonderful teeth for a drunk, but bad instincts for picking buddies. People can only stand a drunk for so long before hinting for their departure turned into "get the fuck out of here".
Sabrina's best childhood friend came to visit from Sudbury, Ontario and since we were at camp, they also had to camp, which isn't all that difficult with a 29 foot trailer with sleeping arrangements for eight, two plasma TVs, XBox, Rockstar, Nintendo 360, Ipods, Iphones, two playstation portables and a laptop. Yet her friend wanted to play the "drinking game" called FUCK YOU. Now, I have allowed Sabrina to drink in the past, one or two under the supervision of me or hubby, but none of the teens in our neighbourhood even considered making a game out of it.
Here's how it went:
The game is best played with four or five people and all you need is booze, cards, and a person to count time. Lay the cards out in four rows and four columns and then deal out the rest of the deck. The counter flips over the first card in the first row and column and begins to count to three and if players have the card that was flipped they call out fuck you (fill in the name of the person you want to drink) which inevitably would be Sabrina.
The trick of the game is to be the last person to get to call fuck you to a person. If a person calls fuck you after the counter reaches three he must finish his drink.
What a stupid ass game! I could barely tolerate it, since it broke the one or two drinking rule previously established. But not wanting to be prudish, they continued until it was time for bed, or until the booze ran out. The game was never played again after that because her friend was up until 3am puking her guts out in the bathroom sink.
"Dude" woman proclaims to be a witch and one evening she decided to give us all a chakra healing or reading. Chakras are energy centers along the spine located at major branchings of the human nervous system, beginning at the base of the spinal column and moving upward to the top of the skull. The primary importance and level of existence of chakras is posited to be in the psyche. However, there are those who believe that chakras have a physical manifestation as well, which explained why she kept groping hubby and the father of Sabrina's friend.
My son Brandon has a friend at camp and they've known each other for years and since we both have seasonal sites, they see each other almost every weekend. There are also other families around us we have known or are acquainted with. One family just finalized a divorce; she got the trailer, he got the boat and ATVs. With the division of property it seemed to have finalized their marriage, something I don't think she really expected, nor the rest of us and her subsequent fiery behavior.
So now there were FOUR women I tried to avoid, all apparently riding the white saddle. And that didn't include Sabrina, the friend she brought along from home, or the visiting friend from Ontario, all of which still couldn't figure out how to flush the trailer toilet properly.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Are you still a Lesbian when you become a man ?
I remember faithfully watching the Sonny and Cher show, debuting in 1971 as a summer replacement series, returning to prime time later that year because it was an immediate hit. But as all good things must come to an end, by the third season of the show, the marriage of Sonny and Cher was falling apart, and so did the Sonny and Cher Comedy Hour.
During their marriage they had one daughter, Chastity Bono, born March 4, 1969. I really never heard or saw much of Chastity after the Sonny and Cher show, except in the early 1990's when rumors began flying she was a lesbian. She eventually was outed by Star Magazine in January 1990, which Chastity denied. However, in April 1995, she voluntarily came out to the world and is now an advocate for human and gay rights.
Earlier this week, a spokesman for the now 40-year old says he "has made the courageous decision to honor his true identity" and began the sex-change process earlier this year. Odd that she is now being referred to as a "HE", so does that make her an ex-lesbian? What do we call her...him? And just how do you get a penis anyway: donor? sew it on? a rib?
Sex reassignment surgery, also known as gender reassignment surgery, gender-change surgery, or sex-change operation, is a term for the surgical procedures by which a person's physical appearance and function of their existing sexual characteristics are altered to resemble that of the other sex.
The phalloplasty operation which is the gender change operation from female to male is the most demanding and difficult operation in the field of transsexuality.
It is the most expensive and fraught-with-danger surgery, building an entire penis out of your flesh. Phalloplasties are created from the patient's own skin- usually from the inner forearm or the thigh. Essentially, the skin is rolled and blood vessels are hooked up to keep a healthy flow as the skin heals together, forming an attachment. It creates something similar to- but also significantly different from- a biological penis.
Metoidioplasty is when the female takes the male hormone testosterone, their clitorises begin to grow in size and length, even growing a tiny 'head' like a biological penis. Though it varies, the new penis, often called a 'neophallus', can reach up to three inches, though it's more often only one to two.
Urethral lengthening is possible, which extends the urethra through either the neophallus or the phalloplasty so that they can actually pee through their penises the way that biological men do, rather than still from their 'vaginas'.
If you're going to get a penis, why not testicles, too. A scrotoplasty is possible, where surgeons take the labia and stretch them around small, round silicone implants, to create a ballsac and non-functioning testicles.
A Masectomy is required for the removal of breasts.
As interesting as this is, I chose not to include surgical pictures, they were just too damned gross, so instead, following is a picture of Chastity as a woman:
And here's how I suspect she will look like after the surgery:
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During their marriage they had one daughter, Chastity Bono, born March 4, 1969. I really never heard or saw much of Chastity after the Sonny and Cher show, except in the early 1990's when rumors began flying she was a lesbian. She eventually was outed by Star Magazine in January 1990, which Chastity denied. However, in April 1995, she voluntarily came out to the world and is now an advocate for human and gay rights.
Earlier this week, a spokesman for the now 40-year old says he "has made the courageous decision to honor his true identity" and began the sex-change process earlier this year. Odd that she is now being referred to as a "HE", so does that make her an ex-lesbian? What do we call her...him? And just how do you get a penis anyway: donor? sew it on? a rib?
Sex reassignment surgery, also known as gender reassignment surgery, gender-change surgery, or sex-change operation, is a term for the surgical procedures by which a person's physical appearance and function of their existing sexual characteristics are altered to resemble that of the other sex.
The phalloplasty operation which is the gender change operation from female to male is the most demanding and difficult operation in the field of transsexuality.
It is the most expensive and fraught-with-danger surgery, building an entire penis out of your flesh. Phalloplasties are created from the patient's own skin- usually from the inner forearm or the thigh. Essentially, the skin is rolled and blood vessels are hooked up to keep a healthy flow as the skin heals together, forming an attachment. It creates something similar to- but also significantly different from- a biological penis.
Metoidioplasty is when the female takes the male hormone testosterone, their clitorises begin to grow in size and length, even growing a tiny 'head' like a biological penis. Though it varies, the new penis, often called a 'neophallus', can reach up to three inches, though it's more often only one to two.
Urethral lengthening is possible, which extends the urethra through either the neophallus or the phalloplasty so that they can actually pee through their penises the way that biological men do, rather than still from their 'vaginas'.
If you're going to get a penis, why not testicles, too. A scrotoplasty is possible, where surgeons take the labia and stretch them around small, round silicone implants, to create a ballsac and non-functioning testicles.
A Masectomy is required for the removal of breasts.
As interesting as this is, I chose not to include surgical pictures, they were just too damned gross, so instead, following is a picture of Chastity as a woman:
And here's how I suspect she will look like after the surgery:
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.
.
.
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.
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Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Hey! Who stole my bra ?!
My closet is full of old clothes. Nice, size 8 clothes that haven't seen the light of day in about 10 years. They are gradually being weeded out by my 16-year old daughter, who won't admit her own mom actually had some taste back when. But what I find sort of weird is that she has found an eagerness for my underwear drawer, you know, the bottom one you no longer open because it'll kill your back to bend over that far.
So now she wears my truly most favorite garment I had ever purchased for myself, a comfortable invention known as "The Wonderbra", which is a type of push-up underwire brassiere that gained worldwide prominence in the 1990s. The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC-TV) conducted an internet poll (2007), in which Canadian respondents ranked the Wonderbra 5th out of the top 50 "Greatest Canadian Inventions" (after Insulin, the light bulb and the telephone).
About my shoes.....I won't go there.
So now she wears my truly most favorite garment I had ever purchased for myself, a comfortable invention known as "The Wonderbra", which is a type of push-up underwire brassiere that gained worldwide prominence in the 1990s. The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC-TV) conducted an internet poll (2007), in which Canadian respondents ranked the Wonderbra 5th out of the top 50 "Greatest Canadian Inventions" (after Insulin, the light bulb and the telephone).
About my shoes.....I won't go there.
Monday, April 06, 2009
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
Strange Days
I have been watching movies on http://www.watch-movies-links.net/ and today decided to watch X-MEN ORIGINS: WOLVERINE. It's release date is scheduled for May 2009, but on this website we can usually view the movie first, because sometimes the movie is released in Switzerland earlier, or China, and we are then uploaded with a pirated copy with subtitles, or videos from theaters that include coughs, farting, baby cries, etc.
X-Men are popular movies, although I have only watched the original, with many scenes shot here in Vancouver, B.C., but I really didn't become a fan and didn't bother to watch the several X-Men movies that followed. Until now.
As I began watching the new WOLVERINE release, I noticed something quite odd. I could see wires stretching off a character who just did a quadruple flip, or I could see a "green screen" effect that DID NOT include the plane's movement although we were flying somewhere ... it was like a phony CGI (computer-generated imagery) that had not received it's final touch. And where one character was supposed to be tumbling down a log filled 18-Wheeler truck, we saw a blob of grey/silver goop, which probably would be filled in later at the editing stage with real images of said character.
How strange is that! Obviously someone close to production, or editing, stole a copy of this unfinished project and released it to this website. I have to say, I probably will enjoy watching this version more than the polished one.
My computer was a pain... I knew something was wrong when I kept getting "update your security" messages a billion times a day, making me think it's these frickin' security companies who are creating the viruses. Anyways, I had to do a system restore, which made me lose all my stuff, files, programs, emails, bookmarks, etc. etc., which is a pain in the butt. I decided to download my internet provider's security, Shaw Secure, which is a comprehensive, world-class online security that offers anti-virus, firewall, parental controls, and spam filtering features to Shaw Internet subscribers for free.
Except there's just one problem. You cannot have their security system if one already exists on your computer, which is a given, automatic version of McAfee software that comes with Windows XP. So when you try to get your own security system, exists a conflict with the one you didn't even know you had.
Fine. Get rid of McAfee.... go to ALL PROGRAMS - ACCESS AND DEFAULTS, and just delete the files. And most of them are removed, except for one.... McAfee Virus Scan.
I searched high and low for this god damned file, even the hidden ones, opened up DOS and tried to remove from the command line, at it's most basic level...mucking around in system32 where I should not be, with file names as long as a frenchman's birth certificate.
Use this instead:
Using McAfee Consumer Product Removal Tool
· Double click the MCPR.exe
· A Command Line window will be displayed, and then close automatically.
· Wait for a second Command Line window to be displayed. Note: Do not double-click MCPR.exe again, you may have to wait up to 1 minute for the next window to appear.
· After the second window appears, the program will begin the cleanup.
· Observe the installation, which could take several minutes. The following message will be displayed in the Command Line window: The machine must reboot to complete the un-installation. Reboot now? [y.n]
· Press Y on the keyboard.
· Wait for the computer to restart.
· All McAfee products are now removed from your computer.
I watched Earthquake today....the 1974 movie starring Charlton Heston, Ava Gardner, George Kennedy and Lorne Greene, amongst a cast of many popular stars during this era. Talk about lack of CGI...anyways, it struck me odd how Ava Gardner's character is portrayed as Lorne Greene's daughter....what the hay! Even her acting was an obvious attempt to be young(er), denying her glory days of glamor-wood. So I checked.
Lorne Greene birthdate: February 1915
Ava Gardner birthdate: December 1922
Charlton Heston birthday: October 1923.
What seemed more strange is how Charlton Heston's character is having an affair with Genevieve Bujold, born 1942.
X-Men are popular movies, although I have only watched the original, with many scenes shot here in Vancouver, B.C., but I really didn't become a fan and didn't bother to watch the several X-Men movies that followed. Until now.
As I began watching the new WOLVERINE release, I noticed something quite odd. I could see wires stretching off a character who just did a quadruple flip, or I could see a "green screen" effect that DID NOT include the plane's movement although we were flying somewhere ... it was like a phony CGI (computer-generated imagery) that had not received it's final touch. And where one character was supposed to be tumbling down a log filled 18-Wheeler truck, we saw a blob of grey/silver goop, which probably would be filled in later at the editing stage with real images of said character.
How strange is that! Obviously someone close to production, or editing, stole a copy of this unfinished project and released it to this website. I have to say, I probably will enjoy watching this version more than the polished one.
My computer was a pain... I knew something was wrong when I kept getting "update your security" messages a billion times a day, making me think it's these frickin' security companies who are creating the viruses. Anyways, I had to do a system restore, which made me lose all my stuff, files, programs, emails, bookmarks, etc. etc., which is a pain in the butt. I decided to download my internet provider's security, Shaw Secure, which is a comprehensive, world-class online security that offers anti-virus, firewall, parental controls, and spam filtering features to Shaw Internet subscribers for free.
Except there's just one problem. You cannot have their security system if one already exists on your computer, which is a given, automatic version of McAfee software that comes with Windows XP. So when you try to get your own security system, exists a conflict with the one you didn't even know you had.
Fine. Get rid of McAfee.... go to ALL PROGRAMS - ACCESS AND DEFAULTS, and just delete the files. And most of them are removed, except for one.... McAfee Virus Scan.
I searched high and low for this god damned file, even the hidden ones, opened up DOS and tried to remove from the command line, at it's most basic level...mucking around in system32 where I should not be, with file names as long as a frenchman's birth certificate.
Use this instead:
Using McAfee Consumer Product Removal Tool
· Double click the MCPR.exe
· A Command Line window will be displayed, and then close automatically.
· Wait for a second Command Line window to be displayed. Note: Do not double-click MCPR.exe again, you may have to wait up to 1 minute for the next window to appear.
· After the second window appears, the program will begin the cleanup.
· Observe the installation, which could take several minutes. The following message will be displayed in the Command Line window: The machine must reboot to complete the un-installation. Reboot now? [y.n]
· Press Y on the keyboard.
· Wait for the computer to restart.
· All McAfee products are now removed from your computer.
I watched Earthquake today....the 1974 movie starring Charlton Heston, Ava Gardner, George Kennedy and Lorne Greene, amongst a cast of many popular stars during this era. Talk about lack of CGI...anyways, it struck me odd how Ava Gardner's character is portrayed as Lorne Greene's daughter....what the hay! Even her acting was an obvious attempt to be young(er), denying her glory days of glamor-wood. So I checked.
Lorne Greene birthdate: February 1915
Ava Gardner birthdate: December 1922
Charlton Heston birthday: October 1923.
What seemed more strange is how Charlton Heston's character is having an affair with Genevieve Bujold, born 1942.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Grouse Mountain Skiing and Snowboarding
Daniel took the kids to Grouse Mountain yesterday, where he shockingly expresses that it was the best snow he has ever been on....the weather, 18C, snowboarders where dancing the hills shirtless! The winds were as warm as a summer's lake boat ride, he says, as you somehow manifest yourself into an ice rink full of ice skaters, then a sleigh ride. What a glorious day.
Vancouver was covered in fog, thick clouds, as shown in the photos, and only those skiiers on Grouse were lucky enough to catch some sun. The clouds almost look like snow, a continuous ski run....
Following is copied from http://www.britishcolumbia.com/Ski/resorts/?id=4 for further info about Grouse Mountain.
At Grouse Mountain, on Vancouver's North Shore, the snow hills are made for thrills. Grouse Mountain offers outdoor adventures for everyone, including helicopter rides with breathtaking views of B.C.'s incredible mountains and valleys. The ultimate challenge awaits skiers and boarders on the Peak, and the snowboard park features a challenging mix of terrain.
Just a short distance from the Peak Chalet, you'll find yourself a world away in the Munday Alpine Snowshoe Park. With four different groomed trails to choose from, you'll discover something new each time you visit, and discover why snowshoeing is the fastest growing outdoor winter activity.
The famous Grouse Mountain Skyride provides a one-mile journey like no other. As you journey up the mountainside high above towering Douglas firs, breathtaking views unfold of snowy peaks, the city of Vancouver, the sparkling Pacific Ocean, and the Gulf Islands. North America's largest aerial tramway is your gateway to the majestic nature of the Peak of Vancouver, and an experience in itself. Whether you're in search of the perfect photo, or a romantic dinner at The Observatory, your adventure begins with the Skyride. Your General Admission provides you with complimentary access to a host of activities and excitement on top of Grouse Mountain.
There's no better way to experience winter than skating in the fresh mountain air on a smooth outdoor ice skating rink high above the city. So grab your skates and go for a glide on Grouse Mountain's 8,000-square-foot Ice Skating Pond - the only one of its kind on the West Coast. Come up for a romantic evening for two or a fun-filled day with the kids. The Ice Skating Pond is just a few steps from the warmth of the Peak Chalet, surrounded by snow-topped trees.
Bring winter alive on an enchanting sleigh ride through Grouse Mountain's snowy paradise. Take friends and family on a memorable journey around the mountaintop through snow-covered forests. You can also experience unforgettable sightseeing high above the peaks of Vancouver's North Shore Mountains in a helicopter ride of a lifetime. Helijet offers breathtaking tours that begin at The Peak of Vancouver.
Vancouver was covered in fog, thick clouds, as shown in the photos, and only those skiiers on Grouse were lucky enough to catch some sun. The clouds almost look like snow, a continuous ski run....
Following is copied from http://www.britishcolumbia.com/Ski/resorts/?id=4 for further info about Grouse Mountain.
At Grouse Mountain, on Vancouver's North Shore, the snow hills are made for thrills. Grouse Mountain offers outdoor adventures for everyone, including helicopter rides with breathtaking views of B.C.'s incredible mountains and valleys. The ultimate challenge awaits skiers and boarders on the Peak, and the snowboard park features a challenging mix of terrain.
Just a short distance from the Peak Chalet, you'll find yourself a world away in the Munday Alpine Snowshoe Park. With four different groomed trails to choose from, you'll discover something new each time you visit, and discover why snowshoeing is the fastest growing outdoor winter activity.
The famous Grouse Mountain Skyride provides a one-mile journey like no other. As you journey up the mountainside high above towering Douglas firs, breathtaking views unfold of snowy peaks, the city of Vancouver, the sparkling Pacific Ocean, and the Gulf Islands. North America's largest aerial tramway is your gateway to the majestic nature of the Peak of Vancouver, and an experience in itself. Whether you're in search of the perfect photo, or a romantic dinner at The Observatory, your adventure begins with the Skyride. Your General Admission provides you with complimentary access to a host of activities and excitement on top of Grouse Mountain.
There's no better way to experience winter than skating in the fresh mountain air on a smooth outdoor ice skating rink high above the city. So grab your skates and go for a glide on Grouse Mountain's 8,000-square-foot Ice Skating Pond - the only one of its kind on the West Coast. Come up for a romantic evening for two or a fun-filled day with the kids. The Ice Skating Pond is just a few steps from the warmth of the Peak Chalet, surrounded by snow-topped trees.
Bring winter alive on an enchanting sleigh ride through Grouse Mountain's snowy paradise. Take friends and family on a memorable journey around the mountaintop through snow-covered forests. You can also experience unforgettable sightseeing high above the peaks of Vancouver's North Shore Mountains in a helicopter ride of a lifetime. Helijet offers breathtaking tours that begin at The Peak of Vancouver.
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Leaps and Boundaries
I haven't been watching television that much lately, mostly because I'm hooked on playing Texas Hold 'Em on the internet. I've become a fairly good player, but what's fun about the game is the people you meet at the table. And I have met several people from many different countries and backgrounds and age groups....dare I say species.
Most of the players are friendly, but there are some assholes who initiate chat just to confront and argue, probably in attempt to distract the other players from the game at hand. And, interestingly enough, I find most of them are young women, sexually flirty profiles, boobs and crouch shots used to solicit chips from the male players, the ones who use "nigga" or "dawg" a lot.
I tend to avoid those conversations, unless of course, one of them "dawgs" attack me simply because I won a hand, or because I wrote "ewwwwww" at a profile picture of an unshaven, bountiful black chick, wearing see through white pants, positioned for an enema. Now, some of these people are painfully stupid as they respond to my interpretation, "you my enema, nigga".
E-n-e-m-y dumb ass, not enema. Geesh. Make friends, not war.
I talked to a guy from the States and he's coming to Vancouver to attend UBC (University of British Columbia) for a Quantum physics conference, which is a branch of science that deals with discrete, indivisible units of energy called quanta as described by the Quantum Theory. I looked it up. And as we were discussing quantum things we were interrupted by some airhead who demanded we leave and to shove our university degrees up our arce.
I was rather impressed she said "arce", but more intrigued that she would think I had a degree, which I don't. And as I sat back and continued to play cards, avoiding her and the dawg's lame intellect, it dawned on me that the only reason she attacked us was because we are here to play cards, not learn.
Most of the players are friendly, but there are some assholes who initiate chat just to confront and argue, probably in attempt to distract the other players from the game at hand. And, interestingly enough, I find most of them are young women, sexually flirty profiles, boobs and crouch shots used to solicit chips from the male players, the ones who use "nigga" or "dawg" a lot.
I tend to avoid those conversations, unless of course, one of them "dawgs" attack me simply because I won a hand, or because I wrote "ewwwwww" at a profile picture of an unshaven, bountiful black chick, wearing see through white pants, positioned for an enema. Now, some of these people are painfully stupid as they respond to my interpretation, "you my enema, nigga".
E-n-e-m-y dumb ass, not enema. Geesh. Make friends, not war.
I talked to a guy from the States and he's coming to Vancouver to attend UBC (University of British Columbia) for a Quantum physics conference, which is a branch of science that deals with discrete, indivisible units of energy called quanta as described by the Quantum Theory. I looked it up. And as we were discussing quantum things we were interrupted by some airhead who demanded we leave and to shove our university degrees up our arce.
I was rather impressed she said "arce", but more intrigued that she would think I had a degree, which I don't. And as I sat back and continued to play cards, avoiding her and the dawg's lame intellect, it dawned on me that the only reason she attacked us was because we are here to play cards, not learn.
Dirty White Boy
I watched a new show the other night, Homeland Security USA. Part of the episode focused on the efforts of Customs and Border Protection officers at the San Ysidro, Calif. U.S.-Mexico border crossing and the Blaine, Wash. U.S.-Canada border post, which I have crossed many, many times.
Why can't I ever see officers responding to a possible case of radiation, as the cameras show officers leaping from their office desks and running out a door towards the car.
"It doesn't take much to make a dirty bomb," one officer suggests. But following a commercial break, we learn the car was merely driven by a person who had undergone medical treatment. Unless you want a bunch of pistols pointed at your head, I wouldn't recommend a dentist visit on the same day you plan shopping at Walgreens across the divide.
Later, officers discover a car carrying more than $700,000 worth of cocaine. In the process of finding the contraband however, a female officer tells cameras that the car is "hopefully" stocked with drugs, barely containing her excitement. Hopefully? Why hopefully? Because you hope you didn't mistakenly rip apart a car?
And being the naughty Canadians that we are, why wasn't the identity of said drug smuggler made known? Was it because he was one of YOUR OWN folk re-entering the homeland, and while I'm at it, why were all the bad guys dark skinned and accented?
Don't ya just love reality T.V.
The absence of Al-Cracker, well, cracks me up.
Why can't I ever see officers responding to a possible case of radiation, as the cameras show officers leaping from their office desks and running out a door towards the car.
"It doesn't take much to make a dirty bomb," one officer suggests. But following a commercial break, we learn the car was merely driven by a person who had undergone medical treatment. Unless you want a bunch of pistols pointed at your head, I wouldn't recommend a dentist visit on the same day you plan shopping at Walgreens across the divide.
Later, officers discover a car carrying more than $700,000 worth of cocaine. In the process of finding the contraband however, a female officer tells cameras that the car is "hopefully" stocked with drugs, barely containing her excitement. Hopefully? Why hopefully? Because you hope you didn't mistakenly rip apart a car?
And being the naughty Canadians that we are, why wasn't the identity of said drug smuggler made known? Was it because he was one of YOUR OWN folk re-entering the homeland, and while I'm at it, why were all the bad guys dark skinned and accented?
Don't ya just love reality T.V.
The absence of Al-Cracker, well, cracks me up.
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