The Dog Days Of Summer.

The long sultry days of summer are easing to a close, and the sun sliding from the sky a little earlier each day now. Here in Canada we’re experiencing a delightful Indian summer, as the last days of this season slowly ebb away.

This week I enjoyed a moonlight paddle in a kayak with one of our members who’s birthday fell on the night of the full moon. A small group of us paddled out in the night across English Bay, in Vancouver. It was a magical night. We sang The Volga Birthday Song ( https://youtu.be/1oXsRteMGy8 ) beneath the majesty of the BC coastal mountains as we drifted on the gentle swell of the inky black sea.

Perhaps it’s the easy going nature of people here, or maybe it’s the liberal nature of society that makes living in Canada so agreeable. Those of us in the gender queer space are generally well received, particularly on the west coast. So it’s really quite a downer to see Sylvester mooning about the place, and that’s not a sight for the feint of heart, let me tell you.

Continue reading “The Dog Days Of Summer.”

Max’s Premature Ejaculation.

There was a steady stream of water falling between Ali, my Syrian gardener’s legs.

“Ali,” I said. “Would you mind telling me what you’re doing?”

“Ah, madam. I’m watching Max’s premature ejaculation. He did it for his mother…”

I paused. I’ve learned that’s a good idea with Ali. I’m never quite sure if he’s serious, or just confused.

“His water hose… He’s got it hooked up to Google – that online house thing. It waters the flowers. Well, drowns them actually. It’s coming on prematurely and the water pressure’s too high.”

“I see,” I said. I decided I had better talk to that English teacher of his.

Continue reading “Max’s Premature Ejaculation.”

The top ten things you need to know to stop being a complete sissy bitch.

I have to say that I always try to be positive, and with the exception of when speaking about Amanda, I exercise my mother’s good advice. If you have nothing positive to say, then say nothing. Wise words.

You will understand how writing this piece has been a challenge, and yet one I feel I have to complete. However, after considerable deliberation and talking with both Sylvester and Auntie Kittie, I have put pen  to paper. Auntie Kittie pointed out that sometimes you have to grasp the nettle and say that which needs to be said.

“It’s like that time in South Africa,” said Auntie Kittie, “when I had to tell a trans friend, who was staying at the school out there where I am a school governor, not to sun bathe naked. The grade 9 biology students a confused enough already!”

“No, Kittie,” I replied. “It’s not like that at all, but I still have to write it. There are some members that might need to hear it.”

Continue reading “The top ten things you need to know to stop being a complete sissy bitch.”

Sylvester is checking out Amanda’s cans.

What a strange day it’s turning out to be. Our members are all out doing wonderful things. Julia in Holland, one of my favorite members in our Whatsapp Group, has been out and bought some beautiful summery things, and nearby I know Lenni is having a garage sale.

Julia has been doing so well. She, like many of my members in the Whatsapp Group, shares some of her experiences and activities with other members of the group. It makes it a very supportive community.

This afternoon a few friends will be stopping by as the isolation period begins to lift. Lockdown here in Canada has been well observed and the results mean we are now able to begin very gradually restarting 2020. I, like most of my friends, feel that having a glass of wine in the garden with one or two friends is much more comfortable than going out to a restaurant, for the time being at least. It also gives us the chance to have a bit of a barbecue in the garden. Sebastian is hoping to treat us to his sausage later on. I am wearing a denim skirt, tee shirt and a lovely floral mask, and keeping things very simple.

Sylvester and Sebastian arrived a little while ago astride his enormous chopper.

Taking off his helmet he said excitedly, “Amanda’s going to drop by later. She wants me to check out her cans.”

“I’m sorry?” I replied a little surprised.

“Her headphones,” he said. “She says they crackle. She wants me to see if I can sort them out. It’s probably just a loose connection. They were very expensive apparently. Mind you that was in 1993. Still, I said I’d check them out.”

“Oh,” I said doubtfully. “I see.”

I have told Sylvester on more than one occasion that Amanda is in a relationship with my neighbour, Marjory the competitive lesbian eater. Or should that be ‘the competitive eating lesbian’. Well, as I’ve mentioned before Marjory is apparently quite a big noise in the world of competitive eating, although like so many sporting disciplines they are experiencing something of a famine this season.

“You should be a little careful,” I said to Sylvester. “Marjory and Amanda are together, as inexplicable as it may be. I’m not sure that you should be hunting in that particular briar patch. You might get pricked.”

“I don’t mean to be pedantic,” said Sebastian cutting in. “But, I’m not sure you can hunt in a brier patch.”

In the interests of contextual accuracy I rephrased my doubts to Sylvester, saying “I’m really not sure you want that bird in your hand. Better to leave it in the bush.”

Sebastian mumbled something about Sylvester having big hands and added that there are plenty more fish in the bush. I decided I should let it slip past. Instead I shot them both a look of disapproval.

“OK,” I said. “Let’s try this again. I don’t think, Sylvester, that you should have your snout in that particular trough.”

I think I may have to go in a moment. Sebastian has just got a call on his cell and let everyone know that Rainbow will be dropping by shortly and wants to show us her jugs.

“She’s only just got them out of the kiln,” he said helpfully. “She want’s to show us her pottery. It’s come on so well recently.”

Have a delightful weekend and if you’re one of my American members have the very best of Independence Days. To all my members, keep it real and stay distanced and masked if you can. 

Fiona

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Unmasking the truth.

Like everything else, we can address the question of masks with style, kindness and our own values.

While sitting in my garden, enjoying watching Ali bent over working on some of the flowerbeds, I was surprised to see Sylvester (my mechanic) arrive and use my rear entrance (phrasing) sitting astride his enormous chopper.

He’s spent much of his time polishing up his chopper recently, but then haven’t we all? This lockdown can be a little tedious, can’t it? Sylvester does enjoy riding his Harley and keeping it pristine.

Maintaining social distancing he joined me in the garden and we sat and talked. He looked quite agitated. It takes a lot to phase Sylvester. Naturally, in my role as both friend and counselor I felt I should help.

“It’s Amanda.  What am I supposed to do about her?”

“Euthanasia?” I asked helpfully, adjusting the way my sun dress hung from my shoulders.

“Please,” he insisted, “try to be helpful!”

“What seems to be the problem, Sylvester?” I asked.

“Well,  I asked her if she’d like to come for a ride on my chopper,” continued Sylvester.

“But Sylvester, Amanda is with Marjory now,” I said.

“I know. But sometimes I like to take people on my bike. It’s fun.”

“Well,” I said, “I suppose it’s fairly harmless. Even though I understand you’ve ‘checked her fluids’ on more than one occasion.”

Continue reading “Unmasking the truth.”

You’re going to thank me, believe me.

I’ve been chatting with a few of the members this week and we’ve been talking about how people are handling social distancing and isolation. Rainbow, Sebastian’s sister, appears to think it’s all a hoax and that it’s really just the authorities trying to disguise the fact that this is the dawn of the zombie apocalypse. She seems to think that’s why the streets are so empty. She says they don’t like the sunlight.

There have been some great suggestions in our Whatsapp Group for activities that make this period a little more fun. When Sophie asked what she could do to keep feeling feminine, Lenni suggested going out and getting some clear nail polish – even if you’re unable to dress in public. It helps you look after your nails and feel feminine.

Continue reading “You’re going to thank me, believe me.”

Be the change you want to see.

Gurls, we’re going into a tough week.  Let’s make sure we show how resilient we all are as we do so. Setting a fabulous example is our challenge for the week.

I know many of my members have had a difficult path to walk in the past. It goes along with this particular journey. In the week ahead there’s a lot of people who are going to be struggling. Our resilience can be a lesson for those who need an example to follow.

As we go into the coming week I want to share something I’ve realised over the years. How much courage you have has nothing to do with what color panties you happen to be wearing. Nor does it have anything to do with what’s between your legs. It’s about having a stout heart and belief in yourself. And it’s more infectious than COVID19. As others see your resilience they too will gain strength.

Practicing social distancing and not succumbing to the fear of what’s ahead is very important at the moment. Don’t let the news drag you down, and stay positive. There’s a wealth of fun things to occupy you on https://fionadobson.com This is also a great time to be using the time available for planning what happens next. How will you change?

Putting on a smile and some fresh panties is going to be what keeps us moving ahead for the moment.  

I’d love it if you can show those around you how strong you are by keeping a positive face on.

As my wife’s appalling friend Amanda said recently, “We must be the change we wish to see in the world! You know who said that?”

“I think it was Ghandi,” I replied.

“General Paton! That’s who said that! So… there you go.”

“Well,” I replied. “They were so very similar. But I will keep that in mind,” I assured her.

Stay safe,

Fiona

What are you driving?

I could not help noticing, whilst driving home from the advertising agency the other day, the names on the back of vehicles. The model names of vehicles are of interest to me, from both the branding perspective and what it tells me about the drivers.

Have you been reading ‘Clothes Maketh The Man‘? Enjoy the ongoing serial now in its third year.

A therapist member of mine recently pointed out to me that several of their erectile dysfunction clients did indeed drive muscle cars, in more than one instance a Hummer. Frankly I feel anyone driving a Hummer should be on their knees begging forgiveness from their children as the pump heat into an increasingly fragile environment. On the other hand, given the erectile dysfunction issues associate with Hummer ownership theirs a good chance that having children is one complication these thoughtless tools will not have to concern themselves with.

Sylvester, on the other hand has shunned the muscles cars and even removed the photo on his office wall of him posing with his Dodge Penetrator 3000. I am pleased to see him mellowing. I do remember the day he pulled up outside my house, on his phone calling me to tell me he was there.

“I’m just pulling into your garage,” he said. “No wait, I’m reversing.  Pulling in again… backing up, and going in again now. Perhaps I should go in the laneway round the back. I can get the back way, but it’s a bit tight.”

You know, I may have said this before, but Sylvester can be quite coarse at times.

Personally I like to drive a Buick Vagina. It’s the limited Silhouette edition. So much more my style. Both feminine and powerful, with the twin turbo V6 with the cuddle seats option.

Vehicle names and designs do tell us a lot about their drivers. I noticed a Kia Soul in the traffic as I was driving home, and I can only speculate that some Korean designer sat down and thought hard about what a car designed for Spongebob Squarepants might look like, and then took up the challenge to build it. Ironically the driver of this particular vehicle did look like a cartoon character.

Sebastian, my vegetarian personal trainer, drives a Kia Hymen when not riding his electric bicycle. His sister, Rainbow, drives a Nissan Slide with a synchromatic gearbox. Amanda drives a Prius, which is entirely predictable, while of course Ali, my gardener, drives the Smart Car with a rifle rack on the rear window, adapted to carry his gardening tools. He’s proud to declare he always shows up with his hoes.

One of my Vancouver members, Lenni, is originally from Alaska, and proudly tells of her mother having driven a Ford LTD wagon. This vehicle, with a 7.5 litre engine has the dubious distinction of being capable of hitting a moose, killing it, and then being able to transport it back to the trailor park for butchering. I can’t help thinking life in Alaska holds wonders I am pleased not to have either witnessed or shared.

Instead I think I’ll go and get Sylvester to change the fluids in my Buick Vagina.

Have a lovely week.

Fiona

There’s never a dull moment in the advertising business.

As you likely know, I work for a well known advertising agency in an active office in the delightful cosmopolitan city of Montreal. It is often said that for each job in some industries, several other people are supported. So, for example while a car plant may employ 4,000 people a further 6,000 jobs are created servicing the 4,000 people employed with things like transport, employment services and catering. In much the same way, my work supports not just myself, but also Sylvester my mechanic, Sebastian my personal trainer, Ali my gardener, young Max who helps with technology on my blog and several other assorted hangers on and peripheral individuals.  

I was talking on this very subject with Bernard, my photographer, when we were out on agency business just the other day. Ali, who so lovingly tends my garden, spends more time there than I ever do. Instead, while he enjoys my delightful Champaign colored roses in my garden I am out driving with Bernard on a task for the advertising agency. And I’m paying Ali! It all seems rather obtuse. That said, I do love Ali, and his daughters are sweetness itself. They arrived in Canada just a couple of years ago, refugees from the war in Syria.

Continue reading “There’s never a dull moment in the advertising business.”

Finding you in good health.

I put my own success and good health down to my adherence to a strict and healthy diet. In Canada we have a wonderful chain of health food stores, called ‘Tim Hortons’. Where ever you roam in this great land you’re never far from a healthy nutritious snack. In fact, I think it fair to say Tim Hortons has become a Canadian institution as identifiable as our polite nature, love of hockey and insistence that we elect a Prime Minister that doesn’t have a serious personality disorder.

As you may know, my wife, Amanda and our neighbour Marjory, are traveling on an ornithological tour of Western Europe.

Amanda, my wife’s appalling friend, has come down with a severe case of Canestin poisoning,  which I understand is rare but not unknown in menopausal lesbians. I hasten to point out that I do not subscribe to Sylvester’s view that when lesbians are exposed to large amounts of oestrogen they run a severe risk of having their ovaries explode. Sylvester somehow equates this to the idea that ‘males have to masturbate at least once a day, or else their testicles burst into flame.’

In my kitchen with Sylvester, Bernard and Max, my neighbours son, I poured the tea.

“Whoever told you that nonsense,” I snapped at Sylvester.

“My mother,” he said.

“Sylvester,” I said in mock protest, “that’s complete nonsense! We all know that Max has to masturbate at least four times a day to prevent such a mishap!”

Young Max blushed and pursed his lips. I smiled at him fondly. Since that embarrassing matter of the carrot, poor Max has been very subdued, poor lamb.

I made the mistake of asking Bernard how he was, since he’d only been out of the hospital a few days.

“It’s all these tests,” he said. “They make me feel like a bloody pin cushion.”

“I’m sure the doctors are doing their best,” I reassured him.

“I’ve become a slave to my prostate,” he said sounding downcast.

“Aren’t we all,” I replied a little uncertainly.

“It seems to rule my life,” he continued.

“How very awkward,” I commiserated.

At that moment the kitchen door was flung open, and in staggered Sebastian. He looked terrible, with a weeks growth of facial hair on his chin.

“Good God, Sebastian! You look like you got interrupted halfway through eating a raw porcupine. What on earth happened?”

Sebastian was shaking with energy. “Just got back from Mexico,” he shouted. His words word tumbling over themselves to get out.

“I did the ayahuasca retreat…It was… It was…” he was stammering his words out, his voice shaking.

“I think you’d better sit down and have a glass of water.” I said.

I decided to call my sister, who works at the local hospital. To cut a long story short, she swung by and using the drug testing kit nurses often carry, she determined that Sebastian’s Ayahuasca retreat could more accurately be described as an LSD retreat. That, and that he’d probably spent the last five days sleeping in a burlap sack. Not bad for a cool $3000.

As my sister was leaving she glanced at Bernard, and said, “Oh, Bernard. I didn’t see you there. I didn’t recognise you from the front.”

My sister does two shifts a week in Proctology.

This week I’d like you to take a good look through my Pinterest for some clothing ideas. As you know, I love my members to experiment. Have a lookand see if there’s anything there that takes your fancy. And before I leave you, I’ve a special request. Help our girlfriends at The Downtown Eastside Women‘s centre. They could use a hand. See the panel below for details.

😊

Fiona

 

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Let’s make a difference this week. We’re appealing to you to help out some friends of ours. The Downtown Eastside Women’s Centre supports vulnerable women on Vancouver’s Eastside. Mostly these are people who have fallen between the cracks of society’s safety net. We’re focusing on this charity today because it’s in a cool city, it’s a cause I know my members will fall in line with, and because the big charities have the big advertising budgets – and the small ones are often overlooked. This is a small charity, and your gift will make a huge difference. You can support this charity by going HERE and giving something, however small, to help.
Nice Legs, Shame About The Face! Wise words from the early 1980’s. The last verse is the best one. You can always enjoy the Fiona Dobson Playlist HERE.

Look what I found on my doorstep at 3 am!

On the whole I do not approve of large people with too much facial hair looming in my doorway. Even more so at 3 am.

That was the sight that greeted me this morning. I enjoy my beauty sleep, most of all to protect my looks, but also so I am fresh in the morning to write to my members. And last night, as my very understanding wife was once again traveling, this time at a conference in somewhere called Poughkeepsie, I was enjoying a night of calm sleep wearing a pink teddie. When I heard the chiming of the door bell, I pulled on a thick robe and went downstairs to find the henge-like form of Amanda, my wife’s appalling friend, blocking the doorway, like a couch abandoned by someone who had been trying to get it through a door that was marginally too small.

Continue reading “Look what I found on my doorstep at 3 am!”

What have they ever done for us?

What have they ever done for us?

Good morning and welcome to a wonderful election day in the US. If you’re getting ready to vote, slip into some heels, do your makeup and get out there with plenty of time to make a difference.

Just this very morning I was walking in my garden with Sebastian, my personal trainer, and Amanda, my wife’s appalling friend. She’s heading over the border to the US this afternoon to vote, of course, like all good people should. However, as we were walking Amanda got a call from my wife, who as you may know is currently travelling.

Sebastian and I could not help but overhear Amanda’s comments, and politely listened in to the one sided conversation. Now the important details I will skip over, except to say that I was wearing one of my lovely pleated maxi skirts that I find so very comfortable and a pair of suede boots. However, returning to Amanda, who it should be noted edits Pig and Pig Farmer, the first publication in the US to endorse Mr. Trump in the last elections.

Continue reading “What have they ever done for us?”

Be careful who you let walk your dog.

I am very proud of my legs.  As Sebastian, my personal trainer has often commented, during our yoga practice, I am able to place my legs in some most unusual positions. As I was doing ‘downward dog’ the other morning I felt first a twinge and then one knee collapsed, and I was revisited by some damage incurred during an old skiing accident.

I am very happy with my general health, however in the fall, now and then, I get a twinge.  It passes within a week or so, and then I am back to tip top health, but this week I am very slow. I know you are wondering what all this has to do anything, but I felt I should confide in you, as what I am about to say might sound just a little odd.

Part of my morning fitness routine, usually following my morning swim with Sebastian – he really does enjoy giving me a morning work out – is to walk my dog, Hannibal. Now, some of you may remember Hannibal has had more than one run in with Amanda over the years. He once found a marital aid under her sofa and the resulting drama was traumatising for myself and my poor little dachshund. He saw Sebastian’s homeopath for PTSD for several weeks. Pet’s Traumatic Stress Disorder is not a widely recognized, at least not in the DSM, but if you were exposed to Amanda’s adult toy collection I guarantee you’d not be the same person after the experience.

Continue reading “Be careful who you let walk your dog.”

You won’t believe what I found on my doorstep.

On the whole I do not approve of large people with too much facial hair looming in my doorway. Even more so at 3 am.

That was the sight that greeted me this morning. I enjoy my beauty sleep, most of all to protect my looks, but also so I am fresh in the morning to write to my members. And last night, as my very understanding wife was once again traveling, this time at a conference in somewhere called Poughkeepsie, I was enjoying a night of calm sleep wearing a burgundy camisole. When I heard the chiming of the door bell, I pulled on a thick robe and went downstairs to find the henge-like form of Amanda, my wife’s appalling friend, blocking the doorway, like a couch abandoned by someone who had been trying to get it through a door that was marginally too small.

Continue reading “You won’t believe what I found on my doorstep.”

Playtime With Fiona 5 – Come and check out my bush!

Such goings on about the place!

Few sights can be more disturbing than Amanda, my wife’s hideous friend, in a two piece bathing suit. It was this unsettling image that greeted me when I arrived home this afternoon following a photoshoot with Bernard at the advertising agency.

Amanda was in our back garden, trying to tan her body, in much the same way that if you leave a piece of leather in the sun it becomes hardened and cracked. As I let Hannibal, my little black and brown Dachshund, out into the garden to my surprise he sprang across the grass and made a leap to bite Amanda’s bikini bottoms. As you can imagine, Amanda’s scream was so shrill you’d think someone were cutting through concrete with a rotary saw.

“Get him away! Get him away,” she screamed. Never before has so much flesh been restrained by so little fabric.

I sipped on my margarita as I watched Hannibal trying to pull the bikini from her. Then said, “Calm down,Amanda. He’s just being affectionate.”

In response Amanda started to run round the garden, arms flailing, with a dachshund hanging from her bum.

“Hannibal,” I mumbled, as I took another sip of my margarita.

“He’s gone rogue!” screamed Amanda.

The last I saw of her she was flapping away down the street, hotly pursued by Hannibal, who doubtless thought it a great game. I suspect I’ll be hearing more about this incident later.

That however, is not the main reason I am writing to you. Tonight is a warm Montreal evening, and it’s the perfect time to listen to the latest Youtube version of Playtime With Fiona. This weekends offering is a special one, and a little unusual. I know you’ll love it. This weekend is also the perfect weekend to experiment with some lighter summer shades of lipstick, a summer shade of eye shadow, and of course some new outfits for the beach or lake.

Feel free to share some pics. Don’t forget you can always submit a photo for me to share on the website here: https://fionadobson.com/your-pics/

Have a wonderful weekend.

Fiona