Long time no blog, on the old blogspot.

I got my cat back. My parents flew her up last week and she's been settling in just fine. She spends most of her time in the cupboard or on my bed, but the last few days she's been venturing out to the loungeroom and the great outdoors.

She approaches each new situation with trepidation ( much like me). She quickly found her safe zones and is little by little expanding her horizons.

I feel like such a great metaphor must be really significant.

I did fall off the wagon with almost everything I had been doing, but now when I see her little neurotic face a sense of normalcy washes over me.

I've started up so many blogs in so many places, but I have no routine.

Maybe I could write myself out a little roster and try to stick to it. I have a terrible habit of just waiting around for inspiration to hit me. I need to read news more often so I can write news.

I need to see a physio, get a gym program (possibly aquatics), see a counselor, get out of this agonising back pain, get back into taking Tony Ferguson seriously, have a bedtime, start my next course, and really start churning out these blogs.

Im half considering making an effort with Helium again.

But thats me, I always have such big plans and then I overdo it.

No more over-reaching. Patience my friend. Listen to your cat.
The internet has opened up a world of opportunity for the queer community to mingle and find their love match. Cyber networking has broken down many of the barriers that gay and lesbian singles have faced in the past when trying to meet new people. There is a virtual smorgasbord of gay dating sites helping single queer people in their mission to hook-up and develop romantic relationships online.

The reason internet personals are so useful for gays and lesbians, more so than their hetero brothers and sisters, is two-fold:

A web profile allows the user a certain degree of anonymity. It is a safe-space where users can control to what extent they are “outed”. Many gays and lesbians are not comfortable advertising their sexuality in to their family or in social situations like the workplace, or sporting teams. This can make the task of find meeting a potential partner in the real world a difficult task to navigate. The number of avenues open for seeking a soul mate or sexual partner are substantially less for a discrete gay person than for their straight counterparts. When you are a member of a gay dating site you can remain closeted without feeling isolated. Using face pics, or disclosing real names, locations, or places of employment, is not a compulsory requirement. The queer community has embraced the internet as a partner-seeking tool because it is a non-confrontational medium where privacy is easy to maintain.

A personals website also allows users to meet potential partners outside of their home locality, maximizing the pool of like-minded people that they can chat to. Gay people in remote or regional locations can interact with users in their capital cities, across the state, nationally, and even internationally. The internet literally opens the door on a whole new gay world that they may not be finding at their local pub. Gay people can explore their sexuality by chatting with other gay people. The internet removes distance as a limiting factor and brings people together who have sexuality in common. Many gay people enjoy the internet because it allows them to view their sexuality on a global scale. It is confidence boosting to know you are not so odd when it comes to the big picture. The internet brings companionship and the comfort of knowing you are not “the only gay in the village”.

Gay men tend to use Gaydar, Gay.com, Gay Friend Finder, or Gay Matchmaker, to find romance or new friends. There are more specific cruising and casual sex sites like Dudes Nude, Squirt, or Manhunt. The sites usually offer free memberships and allow users the send each other messages or exchange private pics.

Lesbians in Australia can find a friend on Pink Sofa, Planet Sappho, Fem Finder, or Gaydar Girls. The woman of your dreams can be found with a few clicks of the mouse.

Transgendered, cross-dressers, asexuals, and bi-curious swingers all have a niche on the internet. The possibilities are endless. There is a website out there for every minority group. All you need to do is Google a site that suits you, and register a profile.

The internet has streamlined the process of meeting new people. You can literally search for exactly the partner you are looking for, and openly state the type of relationship you would like to start. Sexuality-based dating sites have revolutionised the way queer people socialize and have improved the quality of life of the shy and separate.
It probably seemed like a strange thing to do, but last night I asked a friend if I could boil some eggs at her house.

The thing is, the house I have moved into is still being renovated and the new kitchen has not yet been installed. My cooking appliances are limited to a George Foreman grill and a microwave. Not a huge problem when it comes to cooking many things, but how do I boil an egg?

My housemate rang his mum for advice and I was told to wrap the eggs in foil and sumerge them in a microwave-safe plastic container full of water. However, housemate No.2 preferred it if I didnt put foil in the microwave, an understandable request as we all learnt from a young age that that could potentially cause a nuclear explosion.

I bought a microwave-safe plastic container and a dozen free-range super great giant eggs. I boiled the kettle and submerged the eggs in the boiling water and set the time to 14mins.

Completely overcooked!

Infact so revolting I had to throw them in the outside bin. Putrid. Grotesque. Turning brown and black where the yolk meets the white. And an abomnible stench worse than the bog in David Bowie's labyrinth!

In short: foul.

After kicking myself for putting half of the dozen in in one go, I then put just two in the plastic container and filled it with cold tap water, microwave for 9min.

Still overcooked. So disappointed. The yolk was hard and there was still a disgusting smell, more faint than the first attempt but clearly not fit for consumption.

So why so obsessed about eggs?

Well I discoved they are a nice little low-carb, high-protein snack. When I was at my parents house I got into a routine of having an egg-salad mountain bread wrap to fill me up between Tony Ferguson shakes.

Another friend of mine is doing Body Trim which is a bit like an Atkins diet where they increase their protein with meat and eggs. I took a little dash of her program and applied it to mine.

So I go for drinks at a mates place in Sydney and before I leave I request to commandeer the kitchen so I can boil up my precious googie friends on a real stove. Absolute perfection. Bring water to boil, plop in eggs, boil for 9min. Delish.

And I got the added cooking tip of putting a little vinegar in the boiling water to stop any egg from leaking out of hairline cracks in the shells - you know how it is when you get over-eager with your plopping!

When these twelve googie eggs run out I will have to find a new friend with a stove . . .

Progress: 5.6kg loss in 5 weeks
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I have a little joke between myself and my friends that I am a Giant.

Some variations of this are that Im an amazon, or a tranny, and I respond by referring to my smaller stature acquaintances as miniature, midgets, shrunken, or something of that nature. I also refer to small homosexual men as "pocket-gays" ever since Jack from Will & Grace coined the term and it spread through-out the queer community.

There is no malice or spite in these little terms of endearment, and they serve the purpose of acknowledging the elephant in the room (excuse the pun): Im a 6ft tall woman.

I have friends of all shapes and sizes, but more often than not I am the tallest person in the room.

I further accentuate this with my choice of footwear sometimes, because as a woman most of our "dressy" shoes presume we are seeking an extra inch or two . . . or three . . . or five.

Being the "Giant" had become part of my identity, and since I was already a Giant size by default it made no difference to me whether I was a size 18 or 20 because I knew I was shopping in the "fat lady" stores anyway.

To be honest, my weight used to regulate itself with my busy lifestyle, but a car accident, two ruptured lumbar disks, some depression, a move in with my parents, unemployment, the isolation of a rural property, and mums home-cooking, have thrown my metabolism out of whack and I finally realised I was giving new meaning to the nickname "Giant".

I started the Tony Ferguson diet three weeks ago. Its a meal replacement, shakes and low-carb type dealio, and Ive lost 4.1kg so far.

Im going to use this blog to discuss the program, and dieting in general, and give updates on my progress.

Theres a difference between being able to change a light-bulb without a ladder, or reaching the top shelf at the supermarket because of your long arms and height, and being wedged in a supermarket aisle or snapping the rungs off a ladder due to your weight.

I couldnt see that for awhile, but I think I just want to stick to being Giant in one direction.
I am moving next week . . . I hate moving!

I know its one of those things that nobody really likes, but I have a particular aversion to it. There was probably a period of 6 years there where I moved house almost every 6 months, and with each new move I would dread it more.

Giving notice on your lease, preparing for your final rental inspection, negotiating to have your bond refunded, packing boxes, disconnecting and reconnecting utilities, finding a friend with a ute or a van, or going to the expense of hiring one.

It is all just hideous!

Ansd thats before you start to factor in the actual heavy lifting, bending, manoevering of awkwardly shaped large items, the repitition of scaling several flights of stairs . . . arrghh

I can feel my blood-pressure rise as I think about it!

However, this move is going to be relatively stress-free. Why? Because its kind of a half move. Before I moved down to Tasmania, I put the bulk of my belongings in storage in a friends vacant garage in Sydney. I quite literally came down here with the shirt on my back and whatever fitted in the car.

Now that I am returning I have very little to pack or organise.

No furniture to haul, or kitchenwear to wrap, or nick-nacks to organise, or old university notes and books to lug around . . . I feel like a free woman!

No cleaning, or lease, or utilities, because its my parents house, fully furnished when I arrived and they are continuing to live here after I leave.

The friend who was storing my belongings and furniture is the person Im moving in with when I get back to Sydney, and theyve already moved all my gear over.

Its like magic!

All I have to do is drive up and unpack!

Oh well there is the little matter of assembling my bed frame that I wont be able to avoid . . .