I came across this in a local paper. It has not been doctored up. This is exactly how it appears in the full page ad. It clearly illustrates the evolution of man is, in fact, crossdressing… or so it is in the automotive business. Hey – it’s a start, right?

As crossdressing grows in popularity in the automotive business, it will also soon spread to other industries. The business world can be pretty cut throat, with a growing emphasis on the word “pretty”. It’s about time crossdressing entered the mix.

Suit-up, folks… er, make that, skirt-up if you want to climb that corporate ladder. The old school businessman in a suit and tie is going the way of the dinosaur. As they die-off and fall out of power, they’re quickly being replaced by smarter, more innovative people with much better taste in clothes. Make way for a new era of smart, sexy, stylish and powerful corporate leaders known as the businesstrans.

Of course, the ad in the paper refers not to crossdressing, but rather the rise of women in positions of power. Perhaps in time, the ‘businesstrans” will replace the businessman though. Many crossdressers already own their own business. I’ve been in touch with several personally. Of the ones I know, it is the man-side that takes care of the business end of things. Personal appearance still holds a lot of weight in the business world, and today, the prettier side of things is still less attractive in the eyes of many would-be clients. That will change in time though.

For those of you who fall under the category of “businesstrans”, do you take care of (face-to-face) business in guy-mode, or en femme? Where do you see the “evolution of man” going in the business world? I know where I’d my own (business) evolution to go. Whether or not I’m smart enough to pull it off has yet to be determined. What’s in your business future when it comes to gender expression or just feminine fashion?

Something lighthearted and fun for this Friday:  It’s snow season around here and I recently enjoyed some fun in it.  The snowman started out normal enough, but ended up turning out distorted – kind of like Frosty’s demented radio-active cousin.  It’s been a few years since making my last snowman, so I was a bit out of practice.  Since he was already pretty odd looking, I threw on some horns and “gonna grab you” arms and hands to complete the look.  The little snow puppy turned out pretty well considering I’ve never made one before.

After snapping a photo, I was reminded of those crazy Calvin and Hobbes snowman-based cartoons.  I can’t hold a candle to the comedic genius expressed in those comics, but still wanted to share my little construction-in-the-cold.  My wife doesn’t care for the “horned snowman of doom”, but I got a kick out of it and hope it brings a smile to your face, too.

For those of you who live in a winter wonderland this time of year, what kind of snow-creations have you (or your kids) made recently or in winters past?  Tell me about it.  Post a link to a photo or two in your comment, if you’ve got any to share.

“Shhhhh! Be veeeeery quiet! I’m hunting SQUIRREL!”

When it comes to squirrel hunting, I’m about as successful as old Elmer Fudd going after his wascally widdle wabbit. Now why on earth would a nice, peace-loving t-girl like me be hunting down a cute, little, fluffy squirrel with its cute, little, bushy tail?

A couple of squirrels found their way into our home earlier this year. A small piece of wood just below the roof had blown off the house during a windy storm. It wasn’t long before I started hearing odd noises coming from the attic near that part of the house. A quick trip outside to investigate, and I saw it… the demon squirrel from hell peaking its little head out of the hole. When I moved closer, it quickly exited the hole and ran off across the roof where I lost track of it.

I’m not very handy with home repairs, but I managed to replace the wooden panel that was blown off. Problem solved. The squirrels can’t get in anymore.

A day later, I heard the noises again. Hmm. Maybe I trapped one of them inside when I replaced the panel? Nope. The little bastards had literally clawed and chewed their way through the panel and made a new hole. They found a nice, cozy little place to stay and weren’t giving it up.

I fixed the panel again. They chewed another hole. Nothing like wasting hours of my time only for the little demon-rodents to keep busting in. God only knows how much damage they might cause in the attic if I didn’t get rid of them soon.

I tried putting poison in there, but they didn’t eat it. I used some kind of squirrel spray that was supposed to smell like one of their natural predators. It worked for one day, and they returned. Subsequent spraying had no affect. These little bastards are pretty smart.

I hired a professional contractor to build a completely new covering for that part of the house. That did the trick. The squirrels were not able to burrow their way back in… but it didn’t stop them from trying. They chewed and scraped up the new panel, and destroyed a completely different panel, trying to find another way in. Grrrrr. The only way to put an end to this, is to put an end to the damn hell-rodents themselves.

With my Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle in hand, I went on the hunt. Actually, it’s a Remington Air Master, but I’ve always wanted to use the “Red Ryder” line in one of my posts. Mark that one off my bucket list.

Over the next several weeks, every time I spotted a squirrel in my yard, I’d grab my air riffle and go after the little bastard. Each time, the damn squirrel put a good distance between us before I could take aim.

My wife is pretty amused by it all. With every squirrel sighting, her husband, the amazing crossdressing squirrel hunter, frantically grabs the riffle and goes on the hunt like Ahab after the whale.

I’ve fired off dozens of rounds, but have yet to claim my fluffy-tailed trophy. Perhaps some things are just not meant to be. Elmer never got to eat his wabbit stew. Gargamel never enjoyed gourmet Smurf. The Wicked Witch of the west never obtained the ruby slippers. Wile E. Coyote never caught the Road Runner… except for in that one episode in which the coyote was (shrunken) too small to do anything after “catching” the towering Road Runner. That’s kind of what I based the above image on: Gabi in pseudo-cartoon land being outsmarted by the giant evil squirrel of doom.

The hunt ain’t over yet. One of these days…

My wife and I were in for the night and decided to watch a movie together on our big screen, 5-speaker TV. “The Watcmen” was our film of choice. It seemed interesting and neither one of us knew much about it beforehand.

Several minutes into the movie we heard a very loud BOOM! It sounded like it might have come from the back yard. Although I’ve never heard what a meteor sounds like when it crashes, it sounded a bit like that. We were both startled and I paused the movie. What the hell could have made such a noise? Was our house still fully intact?

We were inebriated, I was en femme wearing makeup, and it was still daylight out. We couldn’t see any problems by looking out the windows. Not wanting to risk the neighbors figuring out who that other girl is (me), Mrs. H. had to throw on some shoes and inspect the house on the outside while I made sure everything was still in one piece on the inside.

Still uncertain of exactly where the noise came from, I headed into the basement expecting to find a collapsed beam or some shelving that had caved in. Being intoxicated, I also had visions of horror films running through my head. We all know what happens when the t-girl wanders into the basement in those things. Having spent some time playing Resident Evil: The Umbrella Chronicles on my Wii earlier in the day, zombies were fresh on my mind.

Slow and cautious, I made my way down the stairs. It was dark and I heard noises. Of course, I didn’t think to bring a flashlight. I know how these scenes play out in the movies. There was no way I would escape the attack of living dead zombies just waiting to rip the flesh off of my crossdressing bones. I carefully approached the far wall of the basement, the noise of my high heels on the cement floor giving away my exact position each step of the way. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I realized there was a human figure just a couple feet ahead starring back at me… it looked like… a girl-zombie? No, it was just my own reflection in the large, dusty mirror sitting near the corner. Whew! No zombies in the basement and nothing was out of place. What a relief, everything seemed to be in good order.

I returned to the main floor of the house but my wife was still outside. Did she find something out there? Was she ok? I kept waiting to hear the sound of sirens rushing to the area. Someone must have phoned in something by now. That noise was too loud to have only been heard by us. Maybe it was a head-on collision on the a nearby intersection or someone’s house exploding because of an ignited gas leak.

Mrs. H. entered the house and said everything looked just fine. She reported people walking happily down the sidewalk as if nothing happened. How could they not have heard it? There should be a crowd of people gathered somewhere staring in horror at the sight of… whatever made that loud noise.

As we stood in the kitchen wondering what it was, my wife began laughing. She suggested that the noise we heard came from the movie, and not outside or in the basement. What? Come on, we’re not that stupid… but we ARE under the influence…

We quickly headed back into the living room. I rewound the movie a little and played it again. BOOM! Gah! It WAS the movie! Damn surround sound made it sound like it came from elsewhere, but it was just an unexpected loud noise in the movie. The volume was turned up a bit high, and we were kind of messed up.

Needless to say, we broke out laughing at ourselves. We laughed so hard our tears came down and our cheeks began to hurt. You see, this is not the first time this happened to us which made it even funnier. Perhaps I’ll share the story of what took place 12 years ago, that had us literally running for our lives and turned out to be nothing more than a… well, I don’t want to ruin a good story. :)

That’s our actual back yard in the photo above, by the way… minus the glowing, hot, smoking, radio active meteor. Not too shabby for a 1-hour manipulated photo job. The “meteor” was a large rock pulled from under a nearby bush. Something a bit more round would have been better, but I didn’t have the time to be picky.

Last Friday, I pitched the idea for video Magic 8 Ball readings offered by yours truly. My wife, the fabulous Mrs. H., rolled her eyes when I explained my seemingly amusing idea to her. When I asked my brand spanking new Magic 8 Ball, it reassured me that it is certain to be a “cool and fun” idea. Website visitors told me…

Unfortunately, website visitors didn’t tell me much of anything on the subject. Ok, point taken. The score is Mrs. H.: 1, Magic 8 Ball: 0. Perhaps mine isn’t working right because it needs new batteries or something. Wait a minute…

Maybe it’s a good thing that the Magic 8 Ball video idea didn’t fly. The one part of the equation I had trouble working out was how to properly display the 8 Ball’s answers to the camera without having to cut and edit video clips together (after repositioning the camera), thus destroying the continuity between asking a question and displaying the (recorded) live answer to it.

Before realizing the idea was a flop, a short Magic 8 Ball promotional video was already in the works. I’ve decided to finish the video as a simple, playful stand-alone bit (it’s not finished yet).

One of my regular visitors did offer a few questions for a reading, however I thought they borderlined on the serious side. The point being I felt that Magic 8 Ball video readings should only be associated with things that are trivial, lighthearted, or purely entertaining in nature.

Because myCDlife.com deals with some very serious subject matter, human rights, and social issues, I felt it was important that anything entertainment oriented should not cross over too far into into that territory. The last thing I need is for some idiot to proclaim that I’m offering (real) advice to people based on a fortune telling toy. Silly, fun, and entertaining can co-exist on a website that deals with serious social issues, but I’m hesitant to blur the line between them too much for obvious reasons.

What’s your take? Do you feel that a website that tackles serious subject matter, such as being a crossdresser trying to gain acceptance and respect in society, can also have a fair amount of playful, humorous, and entertaining content as well? If so, how far can the two overlap? To date, I don’t think I’ve done anything to diminish the main purpose of this website, but rather taken an intelligent and unique approach to things… even if my ideas for fun and entertainment sometimes fall a bit short of brilliant. Just throwing stuff at the digital wall and seeing what sticks. :)

When in guy mode, I usually keep my keys safely stashed in my pants pockets. Most pants have really nice, deep pockets these days. I can fit a bunch of small things in there quite comfortably. For the most part, life with my pockets-o-stuff is pretty mundane. There is one odd mystery that I can’t seem to figure out though.

Sometimes just walking around with keys in my pocket, causes them to magically twist and tangle to the point where it seems impossible to untangle them manually. It’s like a Rubick’s Keychain Puzzle or something. At least with Rubick’s Cube, it was possible to cheat by taking it apart and putting it back together with all the colors aligned. There’s really not much that can be done with a twisted metallic concoction of keys and rings… except for maybe attacking the problem with wire cutters.

I just put them back in my pocket and walk around for a while. Somehow, that seems to untangle them just as mysteriously as they got tangled in the first place. It may take a short walk, or sometimes even days worth of walking, but they always seem to untangle on their own. It has to be relatively loose fitting pants – tight pants won’t do the trick. There needs to be enough room for the keys to move around in the pocket for it to work.

I often wonder if they sometimes tangle and untangle without ever being noticed. For all I know, my keys tangle, untangle, tangle again, and then untangle again before I ever reach for them. I think they should do a study on this phenomenon. There might even be some kind of mathematical equation they can work out to explain it all. If there was, would they teach it in school? They could call it “Keychain Tangle Theory”. Maybe Steven Hawking can come up with a formula to explain how it all works and write a nice, thick book about it.

I’ve talked to a few people about this strange occurrence. It usually gets a laugh because everyone seems to experience something similar and come up with the same solution – you have to just walk around with they keys in your pocket and let the magic take place naturally. One guy told me he tried to fool the keys into correcting themselves. Instead of walking, he stood and shook his leg vigorously for a while. It didn’t work though. I think the keys are smarter than that. They seem to know the difference between synthetically simulated walking and the real thing.

Do you ever win when it comes to untangling them manually or do you just put ’em back in there and take a walk until they’ve untangled themselves? Anyone ever get frustrated enough to take wire cutters to the rings?

I offer you another humorous moment in the crossdressing life of yours truly. This was probably more embarrassing than humorous, at least for me. Life is full of moments like this. It’s just a lot more interesting when crossdressing is involved… or maybe just that much more humorous. I’m cool with it though. I hope this humorous (and embarrassing) moment in my life offers you a good laugh or two.

My wife and I were out shopping at a local mall. I was in guy-mode – just another plain looking guy, not much to look at. While browsing a store called “Hot Topic”, my wife spotted a pretty cool skirt. With much excitement she turned toward me, held the skirt up to me, and blurted out in a not so subtle voice, “Honey, you’d look so good in this skirt!” That might have been rather embarrassing if we were out in a public place filled with people and I was in guy-mode. Wait a minute… we were out in a public place filled with people and I was in guy-mode! :o

When we’re out shopping for my female clothing, there are certain protocols to follow. We both refer to Gabrielle as if she’s a friend of my wife’s. She was supposed to say “Don’t you think Gabrielle would look good in this?”, however that is not how it came out at all.

So there I was, out in public in guy-mode. My wife was holding a skirt up to me after letting everyone in a 20 foot radius know how good I’d look in it. I’m not sure exactly what shade of red I turned, but there was nothing I could do other than laugh. As soon as she realized what she just did, Mrs. H. began laughing as well. Embarrassing or not, it was rather funny. Even though I’m sure that people in close proximity heard exactly what she said, it’s the kind of store where the employees and regular customers tend to be a little more open-minded and don’t frown upon personal differences so much. No real damage done.

They didn’t have the skirt in my size, but we picked up a cool black mesh top and some fishnet stockings. I do love my fishnets. I wish they weren’t considered part of a “cheap” or “slutty” look by so many people, but that is an entirely different hot topic for another day.

As much as I hate how society treats crossdressers and transgendered people, you have to admit – it does make for some rather humorous moments at times. :)

 
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The World Health Organization has declared a public health emergency prompted by the outbreak of the deadly swine flu. There is currently no vaccine available to protect against this dangerous strain, so many people are stocking up surgical masks to protect themselves. Sources say they’ve erected six new surgical mask factories in Malaysia just to keep up with the demand.

Not even crossdressers are not immune to the swine flu virus. After researched the subject in great detail, it seems that no matter how much mascara or lipstick is applied, we’re still at risk. Our best heels can’t raise us up high enough to dodge the nasty boar-named bug. Oh, the humanity!

It’s the end of the world! Stay tuned to the news so you know when your town gets hit! Run for your lives, squealing like a pig… or “swine” if you prefer.

Ok, is it just me? Is anyone else tired of the media making such a big deal out of itty-bitty things like this? And yes – it is very small when you take into consideration the world’s entire population and the total number of confirmed cases of swine flu, which stands at 252 at the time this article was published. The total number of confirmed deaths due to swine flue is 9 (8 in Mexico, 1 in the USA). Look it up for yourself. Don’t get me wrong – a single death is too many, but to go so far as to mention the word “pandemic” along with “swine flu” is just total media sensationalistic garbage.

Getting the word out is good. Educating people is good. Making it sound like the potential end of humanity is just stupid. It’s being completely blown out of proportion in order to scare people into staying tuned in to the big (news) show. Although I am amused by the endless stream of footage showing people wearing surgical masks on the streets, I’m tired of the stupid scare-tactic the media uses for their little ratings game. I’m surprised how seriously people still take the news in light of this kind of reporting.

Is anyone seriously afraid of catching the swine flu? Has the constant video bombardment of people walking around in surgical masks gotten to you? Did you catch SARS or the bird flu when they were all the media rage? Honestly, you’ve got a much better chance of winning the lottery jackpot than catching the swine flu. How many lottery winners out there are reading this?

At least one good thing came of all this media exposure. It gave me an excuse to walk around wearing a surgical mask all day. It was fun. Nothing makes for a more interesting dinner-table conversation than sighting a surgical mask wearing crossdresser, right? You’re welcome. :)

For the record, I had to call FOUR local drug stores before I could find one that still had surgical masks in stock. Apparently I’m not the only one who wanted to take a picture of myself in a surgical mask… or the media scare tactic has prompted others to play it safe. Amazing.

Well, I’m off to enjoy a ham sandwich with some pork rinds…

We all experience embarrassing, yet humorous moments in our lives. They’re usually embarrassing at first, then humorous when reflected upon. When crossdressing comes into the mix, there’s quite an interesting additional layer of things that can happen. I’m pretty comfortable with who I am and have a sense of humor about myself. I hope you’ll enjoy a laugh or two at my expense.

This particular humorous (and embarrassing) moment happened late last year. It stared with some innocent fun while setting up the Christmas tree in the Hermosa household. I was wearing a miniskirt, stockings, boots, and sleeveless top. Mrs. H. was enjoying the view, so to say, as I bent over to assemble the lower branches on the Christmas tree. She was seated behind me. I heard her her pull out her cell phone, so I held the pose for a moment longer so she could snap a shot. After taking a couple pictures, she giggled then grabbed a handful of Gabi-booty. Did I mention she likes to repeatedly grab me when I’m en femme? I swear – she’s worse than I am with her at times. I’m not complaining though.

Fast forward a couple weeks. I came home from work and Mrs. H. asked how I enjoyed the little surprise earlier in the day. What surprise? I figured she was just joking, so I got ready to do some time on the treadmill.

After paying my dues to the demanding exercise god in the basement, I showered and we sat down to enjoy dinner together. She brought up the “surprise” again. I asked her what she was referring to. Grinning ear to ear, she wanted to know how I liked the picture she sent me while I was at work. We do that from time to time – send a silly (and sometimes naughty) picture to each other. It’s a playful thing. I told her I did not receive anything while at work. “Well, you replied to it.”, she told me. What? I replied to nothing! I asked what picture she thought she sent me. “The picture of you bending over in a miniskirt.”, she says followed by a giggle. Naa – she didn’t do that. I checked my phone and there were no picture new messages. She’s joking, right? I looked at her phone’s sent items and there it was – the picture of me bending over just like she said.

Ok, why didn’t I receive it? I took a closer look. Oh look lookie at that, she typed in the WRONG phone number. Oh oh! Wait a minute… didn’t she say that I replied to the picture message? Sure enough – whoever it was she sent the picture to did in fact reply with: “Who is this?” Mrs. H. thought it was just me joking with my response, but that was not me… that was not my phone number!

My face was not visible in the picture, but did the recipient realize it was a picture of a crossdressing guy? Was the recipient male or female? Are they going to keep texting until they find out who it is? What if they start calling her phone?

There was nothing I could do about it. My butt was out there… literally. I was a feeling a bit exposed at first, but we both got a good laugh out of it. Some stranger out there has a picture of my booty on their phone. Guess I’ll never know if they thought it was cute or not. I wonder if they have a blog and wrote about some mysterious butt-photo they received from a stranger? lol

Did you ever accidentally send a private photo to the wrong phone or e-mail? Perhaps your significant other did on your behalf? Tell me about it. :)

 
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Not long ago I did a write up about a little spider that decided to take a ride on my knee while I was exercising. After completing my daily trek on the treadmill yesterday, I noticed the little fella had returned. It was sitting on my exercise mat almost exactly where it had dropped down on me before. Not wanting it to get accidentally stepped on, I carefully blew it aside to the corner.

This morning, I found the spider right back on my exercise mat in the same spot. Upon closer examination, I noticed that it was rather dead. Not squashed or anything, just dead.

Maybe it knew the end was near and just wanted to die in its favorite spot on my exercise mat – right where it first fell in love with my right knee. After all, arachnids kneed to find a peaceful place to pass on into the great spider web in the sky. Couldn’t resist the pun. :)

No more climbing up the water spout for this itsy-bitsy spider. Little Miss Muffet can sit on her tuffet without being frightened away. No more unexpected landings on my pretty little knee.

I suppose a proper eulogy would be in order:

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this little spider with its final resting place in the Hermosa back yard makeshift cemetery. It had great taste in crossdressers, and enjoyed watching me exercise every day. Oh the memories. Now we lay to rest my little eight-legged admirer. Goodbye little guy. Rest in peace, and may the Force be with you.

Ok, worst.. eulogy.. ever.