Queenzilla Strikes Again!

What happens when you mix six highly developed egos, filthy costumes, stockings and a few strains of body odour that could qualify as a neurotoxin? Then, what if you squeeze all of this into dressing room smaller than 3 metres square with no ventilation? Not my idea of a good time. I woke up this morning with a swollen throat, achy body and a few other issues that I really didn’t want to have to deal with. So, by the time I got to interval in the show tonight I was desperately trying to keep my inner volcano down to a dull roar. I usually have a temperament that can be compared to that of a care bear, but tonight I was feeling more like one of their man-eating grisly cousins. I bit my tongue down really hard but eventually the persistent little fucker slipped out and promptly caused me to bite at least one persons head off. It felt AMAZING! I don’t feel any guilt or remorse. I’m only human! I pride myself on being a very considerate and sensitive person generally, but tonight my tolerance for suffering fools was similar to my lactose tolerance. Nil. My inner acid-bitch-queen came out and it wanted blood. I am happy to say that I wasn’t too cruel nor did I really cause any permanent damage but I did make it very clear that I was not to be taken for a chop. There is something deeply gratifying about telling someone where to get off whilst dressed in fishnets, heels and a fully loaded hunchback. I have had a lovely warm bath and am planning on severely sedating myself on corenza C in a little while. I hope this will restore me to my natural fluffy pastel coloured state of being. If not, I am still comforted by the fact that I will at least have a few previously “challenging” individuals walking on eggshells within the cramped 3 meters we will once again be sharing tomorrow night, for fear of lightning striking in the same place again. Tonight I embrace my shadow aspect. Mwah ah ah!

Foolish Faerie

Now I think I know what was meant by the term: "Fools rush in." But now that I have wiped my eyes and realised that I had wished upon a sattelite and not upon a star, I strangely have no regrets. Things don't go the way we plan but I suspect they end up going the way we need them to. I have been living in a bit of a dream world and reality has presented me with an alarm clock with two grenades in place of the silver alarm bells. I read a fantasy story many years ago (probably Raymond E. Feist) about mere mortals that are seduced and abducted by androgynous faeries that then intoxicate them and keep them in a deluded state of bliss, only to find (once they awake from their delusions) that they are dressed in tatters and have been roaming the countryside like madmen, nearly starved having scrounged on grasses and wild mushrooms.They had not been dressed in faeirie finery and eating delicasies as they were lead to believe whilst under the influence of magic. These poor men and women had been enchanted and, probably what is more sad, because they wanted to believe that the faerie land they thought they were in was actual reality. I feel a bit like that. I have spent the last few weeks with hazy eyes and an idiotic grin on my face and have recently woken up to find that things are not the way they once seemed. Reality can be a bitch but at the end of the day she does have my best interests at heart. Now is a time for clarity. I am going to make the most of it. But for all the clearness and alarms going off I still believe in Love.

Cupid's Bazooka!

So there I was thinking that Cupid was a fat kid with wings and questionable eyesight. I was wrong. Previously he seemed only to shoot me but not the other person and on rare occasions the other way around. The chubby little sniper was taking pot shots and my life was the empty bean can on the fence. But quite recently he decided to stop mucking about. He took aim and has bulls eyed me and this time it seems he managed to get another casualty in the crossfire. Thank God! It’s so humiliating being the only “moegoe” to fall on your ass with affection. I HAVE A BOYFRIEND! I can hear a chorus of Cupid’s cousins singing “hallelujah”, as I say it. He’s amazing. He is creative, intelligent, sexy, and spiritual and he reads! There are complications however. Like with any good birth.
I am in Durban typing this with chipped black nail polish on my fingernails because I am playing Riff Raff in the Rocky Horror show and he is at this very moment manifesting a magical event somewhere in Johannesburg. (He is a Magician; he makes wonderful things with magical carrots.)
So I decided to be proactive and bought a return ticket to fly and see him for two nights because I am not prepared to wait three weeks to see him. (He’s coming to Durban then to see me and the show.)
I think that there must not be enough space in the human brain for amorous feelings and sound logic and good reason. I would never normally do something like this. But I realise that the way I have been feeling has been anything but, “normal”. Will all the cynical singletons please stop deep-throating their index fingers in an attempt to gag. This is my blog and I will gush if I want to. In the past my feelings of endearment felt much like an affliction. It hurt and I lost weight. This time the exact opposite has happened. I feel energised and charged and as though a beaming disco ball has been set into my solar plexus. Many in the cast of “Rocky...” have fallen sick or become emotional due to the stress of opening a new show and I have felt nothing but exuberant vitality coursing through me.
I have made many wishes on many stars and blown away many stranded eyelashes for this. I have cut birthday cakes, klinked wine glasses with a steady eye contact and read countless tarot spreads. I deserve this! Don’t we all? Yes I’m a little scared. But most of all I am excited and there is a part of me that feels deeply put at ease. I’m so happy to have found my heart again. And yes it is like riding a bicycle. I hope that all who read this find themselves on Cupid’s list. May you and someone magical be his next targets!