ROBBLOG #495

Sorry I haven’t written lately…

 

I sound like the old Auntie who only calls or sends a short note (does anyone send a short note anymore?) once or twice a year. No real excuse except for that old chestnut- I’ve been busy.

I have been.

Outdoor things like Gardening, bike-riding and just plain loafing.

 

Getting Sadie Flynn in order for the premier on the Gravenhurst Opera House stage at the end of August has been a trial at times. If you think that Attila the Hun was just a figment of historical imagination, let me tell you Attila lives! I’m not going into detail now- but YOW!

At a later date, I’ll tell you the entire story- like in late September…or maybe never. Some folks just shouldn’t get up in the morning and be around people- ever!

 

No, the reason for this blog is none of the above. You see, Auntie Rob was reading in the paper about a local lady who was involved in a car accident a few weeks ago. After recuperating at a Toronto Hospital- Sunnybrook, she is home and lucky to still be on this earth. The paper had interviewed her spouse. He tells the reporter that “as a Christian Man” he would be remiss not to thank God that his wife is on the mend. Sounds a little “Baptist-like” to me.

 

Now, this story hits home because it just so happens that Tom- my husband- and I have been going through a similar experience at this same Toronto Hospital- Sunnybrook, down there on Bayview Avenue in Toronto. Tom’s Dad- my Father-in-law, was admitted early Tuesday morning after falling in his apartment and lying on his bathroom floor for 13 hours until help arrived. “Dad” doesn’t really accept that title even though as next of kin I had to be there at the hospital earlier this week to meet doctors and specialists regarding his care. A “do not resuscitate” paper had to be signed- it was very emotional moment.

I am not sure why I got a little emotional, since this man has regarded me as a “gold digger” for most of the 28 years I have been partnered with his son- my legal husband. I told him he was legally my Father-in-law as he lay there in his hospital bed. My goodness, “the look” I got from him as a specialist stood next to his bed wondering if I was the “son”.

Nope the husband, I told her and have been for 28 years!

 

Anyhoo…

 

This hospital was fantastic! I spent a morning, afternoon and evening there this week and saw what these amazing people do and that included every staff member from custodial folks to the most experienced of nurses, doctors and specialists. It’s such a positive place- even with all the illness about. It is a hospital after all and one would expect to see people who are unwell for a variety of reasons.

 

So reading this newspaper story and thanking God irked me.

No mention of the Doctors and Nurses who looked after his wife.

No acknowledgment.

No thanks.

God did it all.

Thank you Jesus!

 

 

 

I got to thinking what if they had plopped this lady down on the front steps of Sunnybrook and let God take over. You know, swoop her up into his/her/its omnipresent bosom and make the bones mend and the bleeding stop. To read his account that is what happened.

 

Poppycock and balderdash!

Hocus-pocus!

 

Although, apparently no surgery was required, there had to be some input from the medial team at Sunnybrook or he might just as well have thrown her on a park bench down at Couchiching Beach Park and waited for a miracle.

 

I thought it unforgiveable that there was no mention of the help she really received in human form- not from some supernatural bit of jabberwocky from an all knowing, love-ya-to-bits being who resides up there in Heaven or as the Mormons believe at the very least- on his/her/its very own planet.

 

It’s all smoke and mirrors kids but if it turns your religious crank, who am I to argue? I don’t believe there’s a personal saviour who sits on some throne up there in the clouds just waiting to welcome me home after my last breath on earth.

 

Thus ended the lesson for today…

 

Hugs and a cheek tweak from your old “Auntie”.

 

ROBBLOG #494

 

Another Day on Bleeker Street

 

 

Blanche: So Jane Dear, did you have a good time down in the Village?

 

Jane: ~puff, puff~ Oh just hoppin’ Sister Dear! All those Fags with their big muscles!

 

Blanche: Yes Jane, there is a preponderance of muscle down there! ~laughs~ Jane…

 

Jane: ~drag, puff~ What d’ya want?

 

Blanche: Are you sure Jane Dear that it’s correct for you to use the word “Fag”?

 

Jane: Sure. Why not? It’s calling a spade a spade.

 

Blanche: I know Dear but maybe it’s fine for them to call each other by that…

 

Jane: What’chu getting at Blanche.

 

Blanche: Well, maybe having someone not of that “ilk” use that word is not correct.

 

Jane: Oh! ~puff, drag,puff~ I see what you’re meaning Blanche. I should be one to call one.

 

Blanche: That’s right Dear.

 

Jane: Well ~puff, puff~ meybe I am kinda “fag-like”.

 

Blanche: ~laughs gently~ Oh Jane Dear no. Now I know that is incorrect!

 

Jane: What?

 

Blanche: What I mean is you’d be a Dyke not a Fag. It’s a question of gender.

 

Jane: Really?

 

Doorbell rings. Jane answers. From the hall we hear voices and Jane enters with a handsome, hunk of a man, dressed only in shorts and a pair of white flip-flops.

 

 

Jane: C’mon in Randy- ya big Fag. Meet my sister Blanche! She’s not a fag- so she says…

 

Randy: Hey Blanche. Nice to meet ya. The old “Fag Hag” here and I are going out for a Beer.

 

Blanche: You are?

 

Jane: Yah! ~puff, puff~  Wanna come?

 

Blanche: Oh…I dunno..
 

Randy: C’mon Blanche. I’ll let you feel my left bicep. It’s really big!

 

Blanche: Yes, Dear. I can see that.

 

Jane: C’mon Blanche. You can be a “Hag” too. It’ll be fun. ~puff, puff~

 

Blanche: Oh I suppose…but I am in this chair you know.

 

Randy: No problem Blanche. Just hop onto my back and I’ll piggy you!

 

Blanche: Grab my purse Jane. I don’t want to keep this young Adonis waiting!

 

Jane: ~puff, drag, puff~ Now you’re talking!

 

They all giggle like a gaggle of schoolgirls as they leave through the front door and out onto Bleeker Street.

 

ROBBLOG #493

 

Dear Readers,

If you are a Heterosexual Male or Female and live say- in Orillia, you live each day in a “straight” world where you know who you are and what you can do- and to whom.

Legally of course.

You can do things that “straight” people expect you to do since you are a heterosexual.

Simple stuff like:
Hold hands in public.
Kiss in public.
Throw your arms around your heterosexual partner no matter where you may be and
call him or her “Hunnie”.

You see, you can do these things because you live a “straight” life 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. Year after year. Decade after decade.

 

Now Dear Readers take the case of my husband Tom and me.

We also live in your “straight” world here in Orillia, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year etc. Yet here in the Sunshine City, we can’t hold hands while we walk down Mississaga Street. We can’t kiss, show affection or walk with our arms around each other.

Well, lawfully we could.

I know that. We wouldn’t be breaking any laws.

It’s just that we would set ourselves up for public ridicule.

Some people- assholes mostly, would shout “faggot” from car windows as we walked along the street.

People would stare.

Smirk. Giggle.

Maybe- laugh.

Do a “double-take”.

Perhaps some religious types with the Bible shoved up their most reverend asses would shake their heads in disgust. They might turn around and look back at us hoping we could see the “straight” life. 

Not in a fucking month of Sundays!

 

Premier Wynne and Tom before the Pride March

So, Dear Readers, for 8 hours on Sunday June 30^th my Husband and I went to Pride in Toronto. We had lunch and then we walked in the Pride Parade in the Liberal contingent lead by Ontario Premier Kathleen Wynne, her wife Jane and Justin Trudeau- yes that Trudeau, leader of the federal Liberals.

We have pictures and memories of passing some time with both of them before we marched along Bloor and Yonge Streets. 

There was never a Conservative in sight- including Rob Ford (not that we care) except for one man on the sidelines who yelled “Down with Liberals”- or something like that.

 

So, that’s why we go to Pride each year.

We cherish the 8 hours we get to “live” in a Gay World before the balloon bursts and we head home to live our Gay/Straight lives once more.

ROBBLOG #492

Another Pride Parade- and Pride week, in Toronto.

 

Once again my Husband Tom and I will be tearing down 11 to 400 and onto the 407 to the Finch Subway Station to head into the heat and frivolity that is Toronto Pride.

 

There’s no Orillia Pride.

There was…once.

See the picture below…

 

 

 

There hasn’t been a celebration of any kind for years and I don’t expect to see Orillia Fags organize one anytime soon. Well, really, who the fuck cares to be “loud and proud” in Orillia with the Presbyterians out and about and the Baptists lurking behind trees and park benches.

No, most of us Queers just head down the road to Trawna where we can hold a husband’s hand in public and maybe even sneak a kiss

At the very least a nuzzle under a hot July sun.

 

However, this year there will be a gargantuan change for the Hubbie and I. We usually watch the parading from a nice vantage point on a Yonge Street sidewalk- preferably where the boys aren’t afraid to take their shirts off and flex their “bits” in the brilliant heat of a Toronto Summer.

What’s this big change I elude to?

This year we will be in the Pride Parade!

Tah-Dah!!!!

I am pumped!

I’m not eating all week so I’ll look 50- not 62! Biking my ass off too.

Premier Kathleen Wynne- herself a member of our club, has said “c’mon down” so we’re meeting her in a park- how Gay, with a bunch of other Liberals and then we’ll proudly march off down Yonge Street to Yonge/Dundas Square.

 

I know it’s going to be a long, sweaty march.

If it’s really hot, it’ll be like crossing the Gobi Desert. Only the buff guys on the Absolut Float and the Trojan and TD Bank men will keep me going.

If they can do it- I can do it.

‘Course they’ll be riding on a float not walking on soft asphalt- the bunch of pussies!

I’ll think of it as a mirage. Hot, half-naked men dangling their “swanstuckers” in front of my face for blocks and blocks- all the way south towards Lake Ontario.

~sigh~

 

 

 

There are worse things than walking in 30 degree temps but I won’t drudge them up now when thoughts of handsome, tanned, hunky men are drifting ‘cross the windmills of my mind.

 

I really am happy that Premier Wynne said she’d love to have us join her in the Pride Parade. Media info from the Premier’s Webpage tells me that her wife Jane and her “Premiership” have been together for 25 years- married too.

Tom and I beat them.

28 years.

7 legally.

I’ll have to ask her what’s the “official” date.

 

I am excited at the prospect of meeting her in person. Maybe at some point we’ll sashay arm and arm for a block or two. We’ll giggle like a pair of schoolgirls when the Naked TNT Toronto men

stroll down Yonge Street.

Nothing to get excited about there.

All the TNT Men I’ve seen over the years are ancient and should keep their Depends on-

but it is Pride after all and most anything goes- or hangs at least.

 

There’ll be lots for Kathleen and Jane to see too. Many gals- mostly the big-busted variety let their “jugs” jiggle from parade start to finish.

Gee, I hope they apply ample sun protection.

That goes for the TNT Boys too.

Can’t imagine what a sunburned tit or dick would feel like.

Not pleasant, I am sure.

 

I’ll be sure to take lots of photos.

Well, just enough that you’ll feel a little jealous knowing that Kathleen and I had the time of our lives cruising all the crowds lined along the parade route.

 

So look for us in the Toronto Pride Parade on Sunday.

Tom and I.

Yes, Kathleen and Jane plus a bunch of Liberals too.

 

Happy Pride!

 

ROBBLOG #491

I would like to personally thank all those folks who didn’t or couldn’t make our Garage Door Players’ Show- Sadie Flynn Comes to Big Oak. It means those are ticket sales yet to come once we hit the boards at the Gravenhurst Opera House.

 

The show that played May 30 to June 2 was a big deal for me/us.

It was the 10^th Anniversary of  The Garage Door Players.

It was a celebration.

 

It couldn’t have been the ticket prices that kept some folks away- could it? There were several 2 for 1 specials offered where tickets could have been grabbed up at 2 for $20. Anyone who was in or involved in a Garage Door Players Show had the chance of complimentary tickets. I was offering tickets to those who said they couldn’t afford them or those that helped us produce the show in any way. Still many good people said “no thanks”- we’ll buy our tickets. Presenting a show always costs money. I am the “Queen” of producing shows on a shoestring budget!

Believe me.

Paying for a ticket is appreciated!

 

Still, we filled up 4 out of 5 “Sadie” shows.

 

I must say that we do get great assistance from other theatre companies. Susan Canfield is always ready to help us with a prop or two. As for the costume department, Phyllis Johnson and Bev Totten lend us a hand- or costume, when we need it. It just so happened that both Phyllis and Bev were in the “Orillia Sadie” production.

 

Many theatre companies borrow or lend stuff.  Theatre by the Bay lent us the diner counter- which was constructed by Tim Webb. Tim even painted us the “Millie’s” sign which will appear in the Gravenhurst show as well.

 

Contra ads were exchanged between South Simcoe Theatre and Double R Productions. Comps were given. We make the trek to Cookstown on a regular basis to support their actors and their shows, so it’s great to pat their theatrical backs and they pat ours in return.

 

Can’t say enough about June and staff at Flowers by June. June was our “Box Office” location and she was a tremendous help. She also did all the flowers and plants for us at the show.

What a gal. Flower Power to the “nth” degree!

 

Many people just get busy I guess and have no time for “live” theatre.

Even so, we still did okay.

 

 

 

Over at Culture and Heritage (oops, there is no Heritage any more just Parks, Rec and Culture) Darcy Hoover came through for us. They gave us a cheque to be a “Major Show Sponsor”. Of that, I am totally grateful.

“They like us! They really do like us!”

…That’s my Sally Field impersonation!

 

I am sure they spend oodles more on gas for the lawn mowers that keep our parks looking so pristine week after week- but it’s the thought that counts and we thank Darcy for leading the pack on that one.

 

Even the good old Orillia Opera House hung up one of our show posters.

Mayor Orsi sent a note of congratulation. Garfield too, who continuously gets mistaken for Hank. Just has one of those faces as Orson Hubble would say.

 

If you missed our Orillia shows, not to worry, you folks can all redeem yourselves by coming to the Gravenhurst Opera House in August to see Sadie Flynn Comes to Big Oak on the Opera House Stage. We are actually part of the summer theatre season there- a feat which would be impossible to accomplish staying here at home. The gals all change. Janet-Lynne Durnford, Pru Donaldson and Andrea Lee-Burnet take over the roles of Sadie, Bev and Rachel. The boys in the cast- Jim and I, remain the same. Some of the staging will change, so if you saw the show at the Stubley see it again in August.

There is one negative however.

The seats cost more in Gravenhurst being a “real” theatre. It’s not the floor of the Stubley Auditorium folks where Jesus curiously watches and listens over us- since he’s omnipresent. Just ask Hank about that!

 

Premier Kathleen Wynne was gracious- she sent a congratulatory note which we printed in the programme and she doesn’t even know us! She would have been at one of our shows if it hadn’t been for that pesky NDP brat Andrea Horwath threatening Ontarians with “the sky is falling, the sky is falling” schtick.

Cripes lady. Give it a rest.

 

Even if we couldn’t get an in-person story from Orillia Today this time around, we did just fine. With one reporter covering Orillia, we know that Frank’s time is limited. A picture and small blurb we sent was placed on a page towards the back of the Thursday edition right before the show opened. If you had of blinked you would have missed it or if the pages were stuck together you would have been oblivious to the information. Still, it was appreciated.

 

Information Orillia sent out our posters and special offers whenever we sent them a poster image. Thanks.

 

The Packet came through for us. I even sent an e-mail letter to the publisher- which he never answered, bemoaning the fact that the packet has ½ page, full colour pictures of U.S. Television shows and newsworthy famous American folks and yet locals have to beg for space.

~ahem~

We did get three stories printed.

Yeah!

One from Sara Ross.

Another from John Swartz in his column and in the Packet’s Weekend edition-a full page no less, from John Swartz.

What a guy!

What a paper.

John came and laughed the night away. He even wrote a blurb for our programme.

Nice, eh?

I just wish we had a big budget to repay them in kind.

I mean money “kind”.

 

So, after the show closed- as usual, people stopped us in the street with all manner of excuses as to why they couldn’t or didn’t attend the show. It doesn’t matter folks!

I don’t need to know why.

None of the actors and crew giving a flying fig but excuses ranged from weddings to wedding planning, to going camping to being out-of-town to having to wash one’s hair or car to “I didn’t even know you were doing a show!”

 

All that being said and done- we still did well.

 

We can pay our bills, pay our cast and look forward with “Gay Abandon” to the shows in good old Gravenhurst at the Gravenhurst Opera House.

 

Tickets on sale for Dinner and a Show or show only online at

www.gravenhurstoperahouse.com

or a toll free number also on that site or on the poster you see below this very blog.

 

 

Have a good one.

 

 

 

 

 

ROBBLOG #490

Dame Clare Voyant

Well My Dears, 

having placed myself in semi-retirement from the writing biz, it’s nice to check in with you poorer, gentler folk every now and then. I remain extremely delighted and appreciative that Mr. Reid allows me to avail myself of his space at the slightest whim. He is a good man and a good, hard man is tough to find. At least that’s what my best friend Hedda Lettuce tells me. She and her secretary slash companion Sofonda Cox are quite well skilled in finding good men and she says it’s not always hard. If it isn’t, there’s plenty more whales in the ocean- so she tells me. 

Another summer is here- although someone needs to nudge Mother Nature along. Some days it feels like she’s stuck at the end of April. Nonetheless, I have been busy. Hedda and I took a trip to the Big Smoke recently. We had lunch at Chez Frommage and then took in a matinee performance of The Wizard of Oz. That Dear Mr. Mirvish, always offering me box seats but My Dears, I always but always thank him and purchase mine in the same way you common folks do- at the Box Office. 

The show was superb. I thought Mr. Mike Jackson’s portrayal of The Tin Man was both comical and erotic. So much tin. So little time. I must say a couple of the ensemble lads kept Hedda and I wide-eyed and tittering too- especially that Darling Boy- Sam DiGiuseppe. Such a nice face, a firm dancer’s bum and a chest full of hair that would rival Mr. Hugh Jackson’s hirsute pectorals.

I mean that My Dears.

I really do. 

Toto was Darling and the young Miss Danielle Wade was endearing and always smiling. Why My Dears with all those young lads bouncing about onstage, who wouldn’t be smiling? 

So, what else is rocking my world you ask?

Roger and his husband Xavier are planning a Barbeque to celebrate Canada Day. The invites are out and the boys are waiting to receive RSVP’s. The party had a red theme and ruby red speedos- the colour of Dorothy’s sensible shows, will be the order of the day. There’ll be  Fireworks at dusk- no my Dear I am not talking about the fireworks Mano a Mano, I mean the real thing.

Boom. Kaboom. Bang!

 

 

Hedda and Sofonda are making three kinds of Potato Salad and I plan to whip up a batch of my special Summer Smoothies. Nothing gets a party started like my Summer Smoothies! They are a holiday must! 

Oh. I almost forgot. Roger and Xavier and Hedda and Sofonda and I have rented a cabin in Muskoka for mid-July. I can hardly wait to “summer” like you common folks. Roughing it, you know- in the bush. Drawing water from the lake and other “chores”. Well, actually the water comes through a gold tap- just like here at the Palais but I would expect it is drawn from Lake Muskoka. Not that I have to worry about that My Dears. Darling Daisy my upstairs maid is handling staff planning and we think at this point an even dozen staff should do it.

Well, My Dears, I am slumming after all and someone has to keep watch over the 23 rooms and 8 bathrooms. You know what it’s like living in a cabin- don’t you? 

I ask you My Dears.

Don’t you?

Well, I hear the lunch bell ringing and I’m taking it by the pool today. I not only get to enjoy my egg salad sandwiches on whole wheat but I’ll also enjoy watching Roger and Xavier frolic in the pool. 

Does it get any better My Dears?

I ask you. 

Tah for now!

Maybe we’ll meet each other as we “slum” in the woods in July.

In the meantime, don’t let the Bears bite!

ROBBLOG #489

Holy Moley!

 

Straight guys watch out!

Apparently- Dr. Michael Douglas- who possesses a “cunning” knowledge of lady’s parts, is warning gentlemen if they go “down there” they could get sick.

Who knew?

 

It’s just another reason to rejoice at being a Gay Man.

 

We don’t have to head south to the “fish market”. No, we boys can feel fairly safe stopping by the sausage cart- if it’s been properly disinfected. Now, I’m not saying that the “mayonnaise” is safe to swallow if it’s been in the heat but a quick lick or two is relatively okay.

Of course, playing hide the kielbasa is another story and one needs to wear a rubber raincoat for those occasions.

 

Hetro Men, just be aware that going down there could mean you’ll never be able to hit High C again. Your throat might tighten up, your teeth could fall out and your gums bleed.

There are no scientific studies to prove this but be warned. VuhJJ’s could prove dangerous to your health.

 

Ask any Homosexual Gay Man. We’ve know this for years.

 

In the “Gay World”, foreskin is forewarned.

It’s just that roaming that possibly unchartered territory down under is similar to meeting a bear in the woods- especially if you’re un-armed.

 

 

 

It all seems like a good reason to pitch for the “other” side- doesn’t it?

As you may well know, we’re always looking for new members to the “club”.

There are even perks!

Fun things like…

 

Free toasters for those of us who bring a straight man into the fold.

The opportunity to wear “Better Clothes”.

A headrush of good taste will come your way, plus a six pack- abs not beer.

The opportunity is there- if you have good musculature and a nicely haired chest, to be adored for the rest of your days.

What’s not to like about that?

The best part is all you have to do is have fun. Watch your weight. Be a little “bitchy” a couple of times a month and be tickled pink when fawned over by other guys.

 

 

 

Hey! In the Gay World it’s even OK to wear a jet-black Speedo bathing suit on the beach.

Try walking down Church Street in Toronto on a hot summer day in your tighty blacky while

complimenting that tiny piece of stretch latex with a fabulous pair of midnight noir flip-flops and you’ll be cruised and fawned over till the “Bears” come home.

Boys will whistle and horns will honk!

When you head to the little Gents rooms at your favourite bar, the rest of the guys will follow you for fun and fight for positions at the urinals next to yours.

Maybe you’ll be asked to pose for a photo or two.

I told you the Gay World is fun- didn’t moi!

 

So Faggots, thank your lucky stars that you don’t have to play “Licky with Lucy” when you can be “Slurpy with Sammy”.

 

Throat problems of any kind at any time of the year are less than fun so, hang up your diving gear and keep a stiff upper- or lower as the case may be.

 

Toodles!