Did they leave a number?

Well, what can I say. It’s not been an easy week. As many of us go into an election week, I know all of us are going to be feeling a certain degree of stress. Be assured I am here for you.

I always find it helpful to listen to the Fiona Dobson playlist on Youtube to dispel stress. It really does help put a smile on my face, even when I do read about something mind bogglingly moronic that the buffoon in the White House is up to. I believe it was Mayo Angelou, that great philosopher that said, “Mask up, asshole.” That, however, is not the main reason I’m writing to you.

Several of my members have written to me this week concerned about my good friend Rainbow, the yoga teacher, who has recently found herself out of work due to the problems we face associated with Covid. I selected one email at random, from Mildred, of Colorado Springs, that I felt I might share with you. Mildred suggested that perhaps Rainbow could make use of her talents as a vegetarian, helping others improve their diet. How very thoughtful, Mildred. I will pass the suggestion on to Rainbow. Vegetarian meals can indeed be an exquisite blend of flavors and are sure to excite the taste buds and satisfy the appetite, unless you’ve ever actually tasted meat.

Fortunately SebastianSylvesterAli and the rest of the crew are all managing ok. Amanda, my wife’s good friend, has moved in with my next door neighbor Marjory, with whom she is conducting a sordid lesbian relationship. She is working from home there, and I mentioned to Sylvester (who has designs on Amanda for some inexplicable reason), that I often saw her in the conservatory beavering away. He replied “Amanda is indeed elbow deep in,” and at this point he paused meaningfully, “…work.”

What times these are. Nonetheless, I felt I would write and tell you of a rather unusual incident that took place the other night. As you may be aware Canada is large. In fact it’s huge. Earlier this week I was driving across one of our seemingly endless prairies, late at night when I saw mysterious lights in the sky, approaching at high speed. At first I thought it might be our Prime Minister, my good friend Justin Trudeau in his private plane. He has the disturbing habit of flying very low over the prairies, smiling and waving at us as he goes by. You may have heard of him, he’s the head of state in the North America that can read.

However, it was not he. I should have remembered he’s usually tucked up in bed by 9 pm with a cup of hot milk. No, this was altogether too fast to be something of this world. 

Now, I think I know what you’re thinking. “Oh, not again!” Yes, that’s right, you’ll remember I had an encounter with alien life forms a little over two years ago. And indeed once again this vessel drew level with my speeding Buick, and I felt the sensation of being lifted off the ground, as if by a giant alien hand.

Faster than you can say ‘anal probe’ I found myself in the hold of the enormous vessel. Two alien figures dressed in a silver grey fabric, some type of satin I imagine, walked out of what seemed to be a wall of light toward my car. I was a little disconcerted, as you might imagine. After all it’s not everyday that you are accosted by higher life forms. One of them tapped on the window, and as I looked at them I realised these were the very same two aliens I had met once before.

I put my mask on, and then lowered the window.

The closer of the two aliens leaned toward me and then said, “Excuse me madam, are you the owner of this vehicle?”

“You know I am. Remember, we’ve met before.”

“Just my little joke,” he said with a smile. His sense of humor had not improved in the two years since last we met.

The closer of the two aliens turned to the other and said, “I told you, we’ve seen this one before.”

They seemed to pause for a moment, consulted what looked like an Ipad, and then one shook his head in disappointment, before saying, “Well, let’s get on with it, otherwise we’ll never make the quota.”

Ever helpful I said, “Are you running out of people?”

The nearest alien nodded, and said. “It’s this Covid business. No one’s going out much these days.”

“Well, it’s not like you ask permission,” I said.

“No, but when we pick up someone off Davie Street in Vancouver, and they’ve had six pints of Alexander Keiths everyone just thinks they had a good night at The Junction. No one believes they’ve really been abducted. You know, plausible deniability and all that. But these days,” he shook his bald head, “not so many people are going out for the night. That’s why we have to hang out in the middle of nowhere.” At this point he turned to his friend and said, “I’m not even sure where we are!”

I sighed and said, “Covid.”

In agreement he nodded and sighed, “Covid.”

The senior alien, clearly impatient, then chimed in, “would you mind getting out of the car please?”

I stepped out of the car, and the two of them led me into a small examination room. Instead of the surgical table and lights that one expects in these circumstances, I was placed in a reclining chair and the first alien asked if I would be kind enough to read the letters on a lightbox directly in front of me.

“A, F, G, H,” I said and then asked, “is this it? I mean, you’re giving me an eye exam?”

“Please just read the letters,” said the one that appeared to be in charge.

“M, S, X, no, really is this it?”

The second alien cut in at this point and said, “They don’t let us use the probe any more. They said it’s not politically correct. Something about it not being ‘woke’, whatever that is.”

“Well,” I replied, “it’s not like you ask for consent, is it?”

“We didn’t get many complaints in this sector. At least not on Davie Street.”

“No,” I said. “You wouldn’t. You might get a few people disappointed that you didn’t at least leave your number after you’d finished.”

At this point the first alien smiled at me and said confidentially, “who said he didn’t,” and then winked.

Anyway, I felt I should share these events with you. Now, if you’re in the US be sure to get out and vote as soon as you can. If you don’t live in the US, let’s wish our friends’ the best for their election.

😊

Fiona

It’s time for sissies to go back to school.

I do so love this time of year, with so many of my nephews and nieces going back to school. And St. Bernadette’s is as busy as ever, mercifully being spared so many of the challenges of Covid. It’s so exciting to see some of the new gurls arriving.

Read more…

Voting | ContraPoints

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Clothes Maketh The Man – Part 44 is out!

As Andrea’s adventures become more intense she finds herself increasingly at the mercy of her own passion.

“In some prehistoric world would they have forced me down on the ground, and pulled away whatever primitive coverings I had, only to force themselves into me as they bit hard on my neck, while thrusting deeply till they were satisfied? Was I just meat to be used for their satisfaction? I felt myself quiver at the thought. How wonderful that might have been.”

Enjoy Part 44 Here. https://www.patreon.com/posts/43127409

Pronouns.

Like many of us, I never got to talk to my parents about things like sexuality and transgender topics.  Both of my parents would have been mortified to have the subject raised over the Sunday roast. And then they died.

To be fair, I don’t think either of them were quite ready to talk about such topics.  They were born in the 1930’s and these are subjects that simply weren’t on the agenda during their lifetime. That is not to say that they don’t have a contribution to make on the subject of ‘Pronouns’.

My mother, a girdle wearing statuesque woman of conservative English values, held one thing above all others. Politeness to others.  Had I told her that a guest in our house identified as a punk rock hamster, then out of deference to the wishes of a guest we would have had to refer to the hamster at the table with unquestionable politeness and respect. I suspect that had Stalin or Mao showed up in our English parlour for tea, we would be expected to hold out the chair, sit after they had taken their place and make polite conversation about the intemperate weather and the  promising outlook for the turnip crop this year.

Raising the subject of genocide, persecution of minorities or (God forbid) the forced labor camp deaths of homosexual prisoners would have been considered bad form and may have resulted in a reluctance to return for tea another time. Admittedly this exact scenario never played out in our home counties home, but I think you can see where I am going with this.

Equally, it can come as no surprise that when my father watched a documentary about German prisoners of war – a small number of which escaped from a prison camp in Northern England in 1944 – he stared at the television screen with visible disdain. For the Waffen SS officers to have dug a tunnel out of the confines of a prison with a desert spoon merited their being sentenced to hang immediately, if for no better reason than to do so using a desert spoon, before the use of main course cutlery, was practically a crime against humanity. Well, English humanity, at least.

So, I can say with absolute certainty that had someone come to the house and mentioned that their chosen pronoun was ‘they’, then the matter was settled. They would be a ‘they’ from that moment on.

As archaic as it may seem, this concept holds true as well today as it did in their lives. Whether straight, gay or any shade between, their principal object was to be polite and treat people with respect. To date I have yet to come across a system that improves on this simple behaviour. After all, when we do behave in this manner people do generally treat us with respect in return.

Now, I have to put the tea on. I’m expecting Kim Jong-un any moment. The supreme leader wouldn’t like it if I failed to warm the pot before he arrives.

Fiona

Rainbow’s sitting on my right hand at the kitchen table.

I’m so pleased to be able to write to you, in these troubled times it’s so good to be able talk to others just like myself. Perhaps you too get frustrated by the pace of modern life coming face to face the slowed down life we now lead due to Covid. Well, don’t worry, I’m here to help.

On the site there’s a host of content to help you get through the day, as well as some great hypnosis files that will help relax you. Just explore and you’ll find a ton of it.

Before I go on I should answer a query that’s come in from one of my members, Mildred from Colorado Springs.  In reply to her I have to point out that Minsk is a coastal city in northern Russia and not how a Russian drag queen walks down the street. I’m glad to have cleared that confusion up.

I also want to remind all my Patreon Members that you get a great part of the Patreon site that few people are really aware of.  There’s a community aspect here where you can post pics and even connect with other members. When you’re a member just go here – https://www.patreon.com/fionadobson/community  to participate.  It’s a lot of fun.

Life in Huckleberry Close is a little muted these days, as people reduce the number of people they’re seeing – reducing their ‘bubble’. Well, as inconvenient as it may be, I think we all understand that this is necessary. Personally I am using this time to get a little fishing in – socially distanced of course. I’m also enjoying reading a few more books than usual. It’s a chance to do some of the things I don’t usually get time to do.  For the moment I just don’t really feel comfortable with the idea of going out to restaurants, or getting on a plane.

Sadly Rainbow, who teaches at a local yoga studio, has been laid off, like so many others in that type of work. She’s asked me to help her with her resume and to help her apply for a few jobs. I asked her what qualifications she had, and if she’d graduated.

“Of course,” she replied while sipping her home made kombucha in my kitchen with Ali, my gardener, and I. “I have an advanced degree in Enlightenment with a minor in Colonic Irrigation from the Healing Light Yoga And Ayevedic Academy. I’m really not used to being unemployed.  It’s almost as if my spiritual GPS is not functioning.”

“Well, I’ll try to help, darling,” I told Rainbow, feeling a little doubtful that those were skills that are in particular demand at present. “Perhaps Sylvester knows someone. He’s quite well connected in Little Italy.”

“Oh yes, I know. That’s the area around Patel’s Pizzeria, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I said helpfully. “He’s quite big in the business community there.”

Now, you’re probably wondering why that part of town is called Little Italy. You wouldn’t be the first to think it was because of the profusion of immigrants from years back. It’s got more to do with the fact that it changed sides three times during the second world war, though. A very confused part of town, you’ll agree.

Ali listened sympathetically to Rainbow describing her difficulties finding work.

“I sometimes feel like the goddess Kali has cursed me,” said Rainbow.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Ali sagely. “I mean, it’s not as if she’s going to chase you down the high street beating you with her many arms and laying about you with that nose, trunk, thing of hers. It’s not like she caught you drinking Coca-cola instead of your usual distilled water, after all.”

“I don’t think the goddess Kali would curse Rainbow for that,” I said to Ali, unsure if he was teasing her. I am most concerned that his English lessons sometimes miss the mark a little.

“You’re right Fiona,” agreed Ali. “Perhaps Sylvester has something for Rainbow in his workshop. After all he runs a very tight shipwreck.”

I look skeptically at Ali. It’s taken him time to settle into the ways of Canada which are a little different to those of his native Syria.

In these difficult times we are all making adjustments.

Now, I want to tell you all about some spectacular Mary Janes I have recently tried from Glamour Boutique, my favorite online store. First of all, the quality of these shoes is faultless. They fit my size 10 male, size twelve female, feet perfectly.  When I recently stopped by The Junction in Vancouver’s Davie Street, the boys were all very complementary, with comments ranging from how elegant they looked, to how good they’d look beside my favorite server’s bed.

These are a patent leather shoe, with a four inch heel – I can best describe it as being a heel size that say’s you’re somewhat innocent, and yet at the same time accessible and possibly a filthy little crotch ferret, much like myself. The dainty strap is equally at home being undone hurriedly after a night out, or being released by a lover’s teeth in a frenzied moment of passion.

Have a good look through Glamour Boutique’s site and be sure to mention my name when you order them. They’re a great company, reliable and always on point with quality merchandise. You need never feel awkward contacting them, and discretion is their watchword.

Now, I must get back to work. Sebastian, my personal trainer, is coming to give me a workout soon. He tells me he’s got an exciting new exercise regime he wants me to get into. Or vice versa. Something like that.

😊

Have a wonderful weekend.

Fiona.

We are outsiders.

We are outsiders.

We are outsiders,

On the periphery,

Watching everyone else,

Pretending we’re like them,

But knowing we’re not.

The best we can hope for is to find a place where we don’t have to pretend.

Is home a place to run to, or a place we run from?

Only to hide out in places we’re more accepted, unconditionally.

Places that feel more like home to us,

because we can finally be who we are.

Let’s shove it up a Proud Boy today.

My gardener, Ali is a Syrian refugee. He’s a lovely man, and he and his family are making a go of things in Canada, and doing exceptionally well. His girls are doing so well at school. When I recently asked him what he thought of ‘Proud Boys’ he said that while his home country was not very tolerant of their lifestyle, he personally felt that people’s lifestyle choices are their own affair.

Ali’s English is sometimes not quite what it might be. He’s been here a few years now, but he still sometimes struggles a little. He has become firm friends with Sylvester, my mechanic and confidante, and I commented on it recently saying how pleased I was that they get along so well.

He replied, “Ah, yes. Sylvester. He’s a very good person. We get along like a horse on fire.”

Which reminds me, I must chat with his English teacher. I believe Mistress Meg is acquainted with him – Professor Longstaff. If you follow my Patreon as a Seahorse you’ll have read about him.

“But Ali,” I said. “Surely you don’t agree with Mr. Trump, embracing the Proud Boys.”

He looked at me with some doubt in his careworn face.

“As I said, Mr. Trumps lifestyle choice is his own affair,” he replied. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

I sometimes struggle to understand if Ali is teasing me.

“But what about all this “Stand back and stand by” business?” I said pressing on in what I was beginning to feel was a pointless exercise.

“’Stand back and stand by’? I thought they said ‘stand back and bend over’!” said Ali.

I gave up and left him to continue raking up the fallen leaves. Don’t you just love the fall? You can find some fun fall clothing ideas on my Pinterest HERE.

Don’t forget to sign up for my Patreon and help me keep shoving it up the Proud Boys… I think you know what I mean.

😊

Fiona

PS. Don’t forget the Fiona Dobson Playlist.  It’s sure to uplift and help you through the day. Enjoy it here.

Proudboys!

Yes – Loud and proud!

Sometimes the most powerful thing we have is words. When some violent hate group steps forward and starts promoting hate and division (while not even wearing heels, goddammit!) it’s up to all of us to resist.

Many of us in the LGBTQ community are taking back the words ‘Proudboys’ and repurposing them. I’m thrilled to see #ProudBoys trending on Twitter in a way those loser cucks never imagined.

Kiss a ProudBoy today!

Fiona