Vicinity of Obscenity

Bound Of Blood (Part one) Unedited

2008-12-17T22:49:00.000-08:00

One day I will move away from these narrow little themes but in the mean time this is the second short story I am attempting.
I am using a different writing style this time the characters are less idealised so the writing is les poetic than the style I used in Vanilla.
This is also a very short draft that will be extended later so if it seems the story line jumps too much please be reminded that this is first draft.

For the first time in his life Sean Jason Rees felt lonely. It was not the kind of lonely he had become accustom to in his long years of solitary travel nor the kind of lonely that crawled into bed with you when the moon is split into pieces by the bars on your window.
No the loneliness that Sean felt today was a much heavier burden even than the chains and shackles that clattered about his feet as he marched in stunted steps along the grey tiles.
It was a loneliness reserved only for those who had known the agony and tenderness of love and as Sean felt the drag of gravity in his shoulders and the cutting stabs of fear and anticipation in his gut Sean feared that it was the loneliness that would last to that bitter end.
He tried to ignore the inhabitants of the cells on his way; they all had that look in their eyes, even those who had not yet become accustomed to their bonds. Like wild animals they paced the floors in their cells swearing revenge and resistance, and others beaten and broken sunken eyes and trodden spirited, cogs of the system.
But today as he clattered passed their bars he could feel them stare with that bitter foreboding penitence.
“Cleanly shaven I see… New fancy haircut I see, that aint gonna do ya no good out there pumpkin!” came the malicious cackle from the cell at the corner of the corridor.
The cell had been christened Toadsburry hall in honor of the grotesque scurvy in mate who claimed it. His name was Henry Killen and the unsightly disease that crusted his skin in welts and warts was how Africa had punished him for his crimes. It had been the trafficking of young tribal beauties to supply whore houses across the world that had won Henry his latest stint in cell block C. but it was the warts that had made this latest incrassation easy in comparison. Killen had suffered no nightly intrusions from “the lipsticks” and other prisoners treated him with the loaded respect one might afford a leaper.
Sean was sickened by the gangly man with his yellow teeth and poky face so he kept his eye fixed on the back of the warden that lead him through the prison like a dog on a leash.
They passed through gates unlocking and locking each as they passed them. They moved in a series of wining hinges and metallic banging.
Passing a priest Sean had refused to see or speak to since his introduction to the population, and now as Sean was lead passed the robed figure he was sure he could see regret in the mans face.
Another short way before they came to a big green steel door.
Sean felt his heart skip a beat as the wardens key found its place in the lock and turned with a loud click.
The interior of the room was starkly lit and sparsely furnished but he’s attention was immediately drawn to the glass wall on his left hand side.
She was there her eyes seemed emotionless….

She was careful not to wake him when she moved her hand from his little shoulder to turn the page. The small rasping sound of his breathing didn’t change as he shifted sleepily on her lap until he’s face was turned up towards her. He wrinkled his nose and she found herself smiling at the Angelic face of her sleeping son.
She had witnessed this sleepy oddity so many times in his childhood and yet it still pulled at her heart strings and made her want to hug him tight to her chest.
The tic tic tic noise from the wall clock filtered into her awareness suddenly and she checked the time almost in habit.
It was late, far past Christian’s bed time and she reprimanded herself for letting him have his way.
“He’s the boss” she thought too herself “and he knows it”
She lifted him gently into her arms and felt him come to slightly as she stood up from the lumpy sofa.
“But mommy I’m not even sleepy” came the groggy little voice close to her ear, and she smiled at how trained the response was.
Not bothering to respond as he had slipped back to sleep just as the words left his mouth she carried him along the hall to the bedroom next to hers to lay him down under the covers of the car shaped bed he had wanted so badly.
She kissed him on the forehead careful not to disturb him and start the argument for a place in her bed.
“I love you mommy” came the groggy little voice again as she moved for the door.

Everybody had said she was crazy when Naomi Silverstone announced that she was pregnant. At 32 she was one of the most sought after marketing executive in the country and there wasn’t a firm or product that wouldn’t jump at the chance to work with Naomi.
She was at the height of her career and yet her personal life had been less than ideal up until now.
A string of misshaped relationships had turned Naomi into a pessimist when it came to love and matters of the heart; and realizing she was not getting any younger Naomi made a visit to a fertility clinic where she chose an anonymous sperm donor and became pregnant by artificial insemination.
She was determined to be a mother and her lack of male companionship would not deter her from her goal.
Her pregnancy was without event and drama, as Naomi settled into a management position with a smaller firm that would afford her normal office hours, a day care facility and a shorter commute from the suburban home she had purchased, refusing to raise her child in the top floor apartment of the smoggy and uncaring city.
He had been born in January by caesarian section, Naomi would have none of the idealized drama that accompanied a natural birth and insisted that only her mother should be present when Christian was born.
Ingrid was possibly the only person who understood her head strong daughter and divined that Naomi’s insistence on privacy and simplicity had much to do with the perceptions outsiders may draw from her unwed status.
Independent and self assured as she was she was under no illusions as to the nature of human beings and would risk no scar on her dazzling professional reputation.
It was until Christian entered her life with little grace and was deposited bawling and wet into Naomi’s arms that everybody in the room realized that Naomi had finally found a man who could make her swoon.

Vanilla (Edited)

2008-12-17T22:03:00.000-08:00

So Finally Vanilla is finished and Chaz was kind enough to fix my spelling. Yes I know I cant spell lets get over it.

17:03, the time had seemed odd at first but it had been days since I had first been witness to this intrigue and I had long since stopped pondering its significance.
It was no more than the metallic clatter of a door opening above the din of the evening crowd and she was there.
Back straight and determined she marched….no “strode” across the dimly lit room, undeterred by the feathers of cigar smoke brushing the slight blush on her cheek.
She wore heels as always with her hair swept back into a twist. I divined that it was a skilled accident that escaped the dark fringe from its pins and brought it romantically over her left eye.
Always the left eye.
She did not check her step as she grazed past the waitress tending my table.
Vanilla….. everyday Vanilla.

“Your becoming a regular”
The busty waitress crackled, her voice grated.
Her face was pretty yet marred by hard years. The yellowy shade to the inside of her well formed lips belied years of cigarette smoke. Her eyes were smiling that forced dutiful smile.
Soft on the eye, hard on the heart, possibly trodden dreams of a silver screen like many her age in these parts of Jozi.
Her long blond hair, an impractical style for waiting tables and though her finger nails were clipped short one could see the glossy finish of a clear nail varnish.
Hers were the stories I lived for.
Everyone has a story, everyone has a battle and they wear them on their bodies like patchwork raincoats.
Out on the street a beggar wears the grace and air of a former life. His shoulders square and the fleeting flickers of pride in his sallow face tell of a man who hit the bottom harder because of the distance he fell.

I nodded at the waitress, smiled and drew the glass nearer.
My attention momentarily wandering from the woman cloaked in vanilla to the bubbles bobbing in my beer. It took but a moment for me to find her a place.
I’d type her in tonight.
“She’d like that” I thought to myself, Ill make her an actress or a cabaret singer in a smoky Broadway club.
She disappeared her long hair escaping its bonds as she turned on her heel and headed to the rowdy crowd near the bar.

When I returned to Vanilla she had found her table, deserted as usual, in an uncomfortable corner in the back of the pub.
The light was a smoky amber and for a moment I considered perhaps “the mistress of a gangster” but the thought left as soon as it came, there were no showy pretences of riches about Vanilla she wore a classical class that oozed of pride, she was an effortless sexy but most of all she was mysterious.
And it was this that brought me here every night with the blue collar crowd.

Her poise was not downcast but her chin was tilted only far enough to let the shadows cloak her eyes
Eyes that never scanned the room.
She knew he would come.

Serene I thought as my mind gripped at adjectives to dress Vanilla in.
She sat slightly sideways, her legs comfortably crossed accentuating the curve of her calve.
Nothing about her was anxious or expectant.

7minutes later he entered.
He entered as he always did, allowing himself the slightest pause to drink her in, always the phantom of a smile in his eyes as he spots her in the corner.

Ignorant of my movie star waitress cooing her good evenings at him in syrupy tones he begins the journey towards the back of the bar.
Journey…..
He wears the black linen of a well tailored suit only to mask the beat of his heart, is it anguish, is it fear, that implacable emotion that twitches the sinew in he’s square jaw. Implacable though it may be it’s not the twitch I noticed first.
As he comes shuffling through the crowd past my table I catch a glimpse of it again. Misty gray eyes swallowed in a strong draft of longing and sorrow.
There was no smells or distinctions about this man, tall undoubtedly handsome and yet simple.

If she had sensed his presence, nothing about her belied that. She sat still her chin still tilted hiding her eyes from me.
When he reached her table he pressed his right hand to his left breast pocket, the effort was deliberate but not forced, and it gave me the idea that this man needed to force very little in his life.
Yet he came with intention every night, and night after night his intentions were the things that kept the synapses of my brain firing late into the night.

The waitress was back to clear my glass.
Her body blocked my view of the couple in the corner as she replaced the ashtray and removed the foamy remains of the beer.
I shuffled uncomfortably in my seat, anxious to be rid of the girl.
“Another” the words sounded short and rude as I croaked them at her and I felt the temperature drop
“Please” I added a bit to quickly and forced a smile at her.
With a difficult curl in her lips she shuffled of to the kitchen.
I didn’t notice the gentle sway in her hips as she weaved her way trough the people, my attention was fixed on the story that refused to reveal itself in the back of the bar.

He shifted easily into the small chair across the table from vanilla, it was only then that she lifted her face into the smoggy yellow light and allowed me to see her eyes.
It was the moment I had played out in my mind each night for two weeks, the moment I could not write, single seconds that had afforded me countless rewrites and driven me to the limits of my abilities and instincts.
Something moved in those deep hazel eyes as they settled on the unassuming honest face of the man across the table.
It was torturously implacable and yet so intensely honest.
A remarkable unknown that had driven me to weave, destroy and rethink every web I had built for her.

They did not greet one another.
Not a hand shake nor a hallo passed between them. He simply sat down and met her gaze with his.
It was not a challenge nor was it a scrutiny.
He seemed to settle in her eyes.
Minutes passed and still they had no words for one another just an impenetrable stare.
Around them the pub seemed to heave with end of day relieve.
Some laughed and a group of businessmen near me toasted some recent success. My waitress fought a sea of wandering hands with wavering patience to deposit my beer wordlessly on my table.
And yet Vanilla and the man sat lost in their own place oblivious to the milling push of humanity around them.
The cackle from the large woman in the booth behind them shattered the air and yet passed without a flicker of notice from the dark little table in the corner.

Minuets drew on like this.
Until as suddenly as she had come, she got up and moved for the door
The clatter again and she was gone.
Swallowed up by heavy hot air of Johannesburg’s nocturnal throbbing.

I watched him heave a sigh but it wasn’t relief. Perhaps self loathing.
As if on queue a mousy little waitress appeared at his table with a scotch glass. He nodded and smiled easily at the uninteresting little creature who scampered back to her post behind the bar and left him alone again.
He sloshed the golden liquid and ice around in the glass twice brought it to his lips and swallowed it with a single gulp.
He looked at the drained glass remorsefully as he held it at eye level propped up on his elbow.
I tested the water again and conjured up a world of industrial espionage as he placed the glass and a R50 note on the table. But dismissed it again as he passed me on this way to the door.
Deeper I thought to myself. Human, yes, and honest.
Unchecked unrefined and untapped the story that sat only tables away from me would not be tamed as easily and try as I may she would not let me dress her in the intrigue and flattery of a commercial best.
No Vanilla would be raw.

She was still in my mind when I left the pub. Stepping out into the smothering air I sniffed a futile sniff hoping that her scent my guide me.
But there was nothing.
Nothing more than diesel fumes and noise that crowded the narrow sidewalks of a changing city bursting at its seams with societal contrast.
I would try tomorrow again, but I was starting to fear I was a fool and a brick wall.
I flicked a silver coin at the hobo with air and grace before moving the old Pontiac Barracuda into the snaking traffic.

*******

By 16:30 the view from my office window had changed its face. October rains had thundered down on the tall buildings and dirty streets all day and washed the grime from old jozi leaving her smelling of sun baked tar and sulphurous lightning.
The evening sun was just starting to pierce the bruised clouds and shot shards of red light into the allies and windows of dilapidated buildings.
Street venders and beggars started to emerge from the cities wounds, they oozed from every crevice and unoccupied shelter.
Hobbling up and down the lines of parked German luxuries pleading for the copper stuff that rattles and jangles in the pockets of the bankers and brokers who pour through the turnstiles of the four giants of the economy.
She had come so far and she had seen so much, and yet her inhabitants carried with them the daunting premonition that the beast that stirs below the vibrant surface may wake at any moment.

I stepped out into the streets, considered going for the Pontiac only momentarily before seeing the long line of red tail lights stretched out along Commissioner str.
My city is bleeding I thought to myself and congratulating myself of my poetic flare.
I’ll have to use that somewhere.
At a slightly hurried pace I set of along the bustling sidewalks feeling the city air seep in through my pores.
Today will be the day, I was sure of it, as I had been the thirteen days preceding today.

I ambled along the twisting city blocks lost somewhere in the black and whites of cloak and daggers still to be written, in the humid little cubical I rented from the citizen news paper where I banged out an endless drone of columns and human interests on the old IBM.
It was there but only for a moment.
My mind had not yet had a chance to process the broken pieces of an image and dismissed it almost instantly.
The knock off Rolex on my wrist grew heavier as I realized how late it was.
I quickened my pace and it was as I slipped between the throng and press of human bodies I saw it again.
This time the picture lingered long enough to scrape the confines of comprehension.

Ahead in the street
She was wearing white I recognized the fall of fringe across her left eye and her confident gaunt.
Parts of me wanted to touch her, wanted to dip into the soul of a woman so untouchable yet so painfully honest but parts of me feared that what I may find would tarnish the dazzling reality I had built for her.
I could write her an Olympian goddess in her white linen skirt that blossomed ever so slightly around her knees.
She could be my Aphrodite, an immortal perfection only she could do justice to, a Mary Magdalene perhaps, cloaked in secrets powerful enough to crumble the walls of faith.

No I won’t touch her.
I dare not ripple the cesspool of captivation and poison it with the mundane.
I chose rather to walk in her shadows.
Hers a confident step that parted the pedestrians in her way like Moses parted the waters mine and uncomfortable duck and weave as I struggled to maintain the distance between us.
A distance so close that I could make out the fine hairs in her neck so close that I could smell the vanilla of her skin yet I kept her out of reach willing my finger tips not to reach out to her.

I checked the Knock-off again as the bar on the corner came into sight. 17:02
As I looked up she had stepped off the curb stones onto the steaming tar to cross the street that lay like a ravine between her and amber light pouring through the windows.
The constant rhythm of the clack of her heels on the sidewalk paving quickened as she trotted across the black surface, her white skirts trailing in the evening breeze she was a Lipizzaner in a graceful canter.
Splashed across the city noises.
Trucks ,
Cars,
Voices,
Foot falls
Sirens……sirens.
It was the human fascination with the macabre that dragged my eyes from the goddess in the street and searched the untidy maze of road and stone for the origin of the screeching scull splitting noise.
The damp mob on the pavement in front of me pressed me back as I found the electric blue flash of lights and the screech of tires and metal grew closer.
It showered her face in streaming blue light and for the fist time I saw Vanilla display undisguised emotion but I was pushed further back caught in the retreating press.
I struggle against the bodies

I was afforded only moments to drink her up.
Only moments and I could drown in her eyes
I lived a hundred lives in the fall of her body.
It was seconds and my senses were grappling with the realization of her mortality, but my mind, my mind allowed me the stretch of a life time, one spent imprisoned by her embrace delirious from her sent my mind afforded me a thousand mornings with her a beautiful waste of time

The noise must have been unbearable it was the dull thud that boomed in my mind and paralyzed my body.
The police cars with their white and blue war paint ripped an open wound in the city streets. It was like summer lightning tearing closer to my Vanilla.
It seemed that the city exhaled when the effort to swerve brought the car into a vicious velocity driven slide.
And then the thud.
I had tried to grasp her so many times but it was like trying to catch and hold onto smoke, Perhaps that was why I clung to a bitter hope that she would evaporate ahead of the side long slam that must have broken her back.
But alas she would not be carried away on the chill that swirled among the high buildings.
No wind would sweep her away and perch her out of harms way

Her body was not twisted and contorted into the macabre puppetry of the pain her final moments must have afforded her.
I don’t know why I thought it would be.
The steam that rose from the road had swallowed her up as she fell and swept a curtain of ghostly silver across her face.
Her eyes were closed guarding the onlooker around me from pits of sorrow that swam in her hazel eyes.
And her hands, still warm in mine. Each perfect finger weaved into mine and I was a fool for imagining I could feel the blood pulsing through the fine blue veins underneath her cashmere skin

Peace.
There were no fancy words or flourishes I could bathe her lifeless face in.
Her hair had come loose and the dark tresses framed her beautiful face, the evening light burning red shards into the chocolate colors of her hair.
I understood now why people often revert to such an unimaginative cliché when revering to death.
Moments drew on and I felt the heat in her hands dissipate and I held her tighter willing it to remain just a little longer.
People mulled about her I recall a paramedic check a pulse I knew he would not find.

“Did you know her” it was a shout in a thick African accent from the medic at her other arm.
I don’t know how long it took me to respond because he repeated the barked question before I was able to stutter a reply. Was I crying?
“yes” it was weak and only barely audible over the voices and noises that amplified the horror of the scene.
“tell me her name”
Words that were never there died to dust in my mouth as I searched the angelic face of a woman I’d never known.
I didn’t know her name, and yet I held her hand tighter, willing the reality away trying with my every fibre to hold onto it at as the heat slipped from her hands and the sun kissed glow dissipated from her skin.
In desperation I averted my eyes and searched instead for answers, or sympathy in the dark little face of the medic.
But I found another face nearby. In an ocean of curiosity and fascination he stood. Unassuming and sallow his shoulders were slumped.
It was the current of unmasked pain and open regret in the tearful grey eyes that made me let go of her.
I had intruded. Walked on holy ground

I was faced with the burning bush and nothing in my career or life could have prepared me for what I found in this man.
He had aged a hundred years as he stared down at the cold vessel that was once Vanilla and the sadness that swept him felt like a cold blade flaying the skin on my lips.
It was tangible almost and yet he didn’t cry, he didn’t offer and explanation.
He just stood as if cast from stone watching until she was taken from him.
It was the slightest twitch of his hands as they lifted her to the ambulance that broke my heart.
Had he wanted to touch her?
He never touched her in the bar.

Slowly the crowd wandered off, their blood thirst satisfied.
I sunk then into my own sadness and confusion realizing that I had lost so much more than my hopes of a best seller.
But when I looked up he was gone.

A week had passed since Vanilla had baptized the city I loved so deeply in her blood, and each day I avoided the little corner pub and its crushing memories.
But my absence from the place did not dispel her from my mind.
she was there always flirting with my sanity, in crowds on the television I smelt her hands in mine despite the soap and water I used to wash her from me.
I could see her
I could smell her and worst of all I could feel her.
I was no match for vanilla and it was not long before I found myself in the little bar at 17:03 waiting for her….
It seemed that my vanilla had left the place unscathed.
The busty blond waitress with her tray, carting drinks and glasses from table to the bar.
The regulars robust and rowdy in their revelry.
The little table in its uncomfortable corner empty lifeless and my mind conjured up hazy phantoms of her painted in vanilla.

“She’s gone what are you doing here” I scolded myself “get up and leave”
But I didn’t leave
Instead I sat a while longer and watched him shuffle in.
Without ceremony, or bells and whistles. He may have gone unnoticed by the other patrons.
Nobody looked up to notice the sallow look on his face or comment on his sunken eyes framed in that bitter purple color that speaks of sleepless nights.
He’s step was slow and deliberate as he reached the little table and he sat down heavy under the hear ace and despair that covered him like lead.
He was an unfortunate figure as he swallowed the scotch.

I had never been able to approach her, too fragile was my bond with her to dare chance the meeting, and yet there I was my hand on the back rest of her chair across from his sunken dreams prepared suddenly for any eventuality.
I sat down and fixed upon him and yet he did not seem alarmed at my presence not did he move to be rid of me.
I had stepped into his grief uninvited and yet undeterred.

He swallowed again and met my gaze.
“I saw you with her, on the road”
It was not a question, it was not even a statement yet I sensed it was a justification.
“ her name was Eve” he’s voice deep when he mentioned her name.
“I met her here 2 years ago and she made me feel like my life had just begun. I came back every night just to talk to her, just for her to look at me like she sees me”
It was whipped from his face as soon as the tear appeared.
“you see sir, I have lived so much of my life being invisible…..”
There was hesitation in his voice
“and I deserve to be. But with her…. With Eve I had substance”
“I am married you see….” Something about his tone told me that I didn’t see
“but Farah had taken to drinking when our child was still born three years ago. She drank to numb it she drank to forgive herself, she drank to forgive me for not falling as far she did, and after a while she stopped seeing me”
It was not the story I had imagined, but I kept still and watched as it played out across his face
“I came here every night to see Eve and she never presumed anything even when we had fallen so deeply in love that every fiber within me longed to touch her.
She wouldn’t of coarse, I was married and she had too much class to walk that road even if I had the courage to let her.”

He spoke long into the night.
At times he cried.
He had promised her a life together but Farah had taken a fall that night that had put her in a wheel chair.
A fall that had plunged him into the pits of guilt to heavy and sick with it to move.

Finally he finished. Eyes swimming in sorrow and relieve.
My words had no place here so I remained silent and watched him leave.
When I left the bar that night my mind was awash with possibilities.
He never touched her and yet he loved her.
The purity was almost to hard to believe and yet I wanted to with everything in me I wanted to believe and I wanted to tell it.
And I did.
Months latter the little paper back about a woman named vanilla who met a man in a bar every night to hear him say they could be together. About a man bound by guilt to his drunken wife and about a promise that could never be fulfilled hit the shelves under a dark cloud of critic.

“it lacked substance and believability” one said
“an idealistic love story, out of place in its modern setting, more suited for the housewife genre” another had taken printed.
Vanilla never made second edition and while I did not know it at the time but vanilla would be outsold three fold by a glossy commercial about a busty blond waitress who dreams of becoming a movie star.

The sidewalk was grubby and the night air would suffocate you in your sleep, with the newspaper and its hateful remarks tucked under my arm I ambled along the city streets cursing their insolence.
“How dare they”
“How dare they say that about her”
It was bitter as bile in my mouth and I cursed the shadows about me and this city that could not love her as I did.
“I loved her”
When I stepped into the smoggy little room my eyes caught a glimpse of him in the corner. Slumped slightly against the wall.
I had not spoken to him since the night of his confession and now as vanilla fell to the bottom of the must read list I had no intention peppering either of our wounds.
I took a table and ordered a bear intending to wash the hurtful words from my mind with the abrasive bubbles.
The waitress was still a waitress and she was little more than a dull figure in a cookie cutter spell in a book that did not fight me like vanilla did.
She delivered the beer, grinning a crooked grin and her hate of being here.
But there was something wrong.
My view had changed and I noted he was leaning on the wall and not simply slumped to one side.
I hated that he had fallen this far.
He was my hero Adonis in my pages and here he was squandering vanillas place in scotch and cigar smoke.
It angered me and as the horror bubbled up I stood and walked to him.
Deliberately, with intention.

The scotch had been laced with poison.
The police report would confirm.
It would latter be called a murder and I thought it more dignified as I folded the napkin and put it in my breast pocket.
Maybe one day I would write Vanilla again, he had given me my ending.
On the napkin in my pocket, in the scraggly hand of a dying man four simple words that she would never hear
“To be with you”

Vanilla (Concluded)

2008-12-15T03:36:00.000-08:00

I was faced with the burning bush and nothing in my career or life could have prepared me for what I found in this man.
He had ages a hundred years as he stared down at the cold vessel that was once vanilla and the sadness that swept him felt like a cold blade flaying the skin on my lips.
It was tangible almost and yet he didn’t cry, he didn’t offer and explanation.
he just stood as if cast from stone watching until she was taken from him.
It was the slightest twitch of his hands as they lifted her to the ambulance that broke my heart.
Had he wanted to touch her?
He never touched her in the bar.

Slowly the crowd wandered of their blood thirst satisfied.
I sunk then into my own sadness and confusion realizing that I had lost so much more than my hopes of a best seller.
But when I looked up he was gone.

A week had passed since vanilla had baptized the city I loved so deeply in her blood, and each day I avoided the little corner pub and its crushing memories.
But my absence from the place did not dispel her from my mind.
she was there always flirting with my sanity, in crowds on the television I smelt her hands in mine despite the soap and water I used to wash her from me.
I could see her
I could smell her and worst of all I could feel her.
I was no match for vanilla and it was not long before I found myself in the little bar at 17:03 waiting for her….
It seemed that my vanilla had left the place unscathed.
The busty blond waitress with her tray, carting drinks and glasses from table to bar.
The regulars robust and rowdy in their revelry.
The little table in its uncomfortable corner empty lifeless and my mind conjured up hazy phantoms of her painted in vanilla.

“She’s gone what are you doing here” I scolded myself “get up and leave”
But I didn’t leave
Instead I sat a while longer and watched him shuffle in.
Without ceremony, or bells and whistles. He may have gone unnoticed by the other patrons.
Nobody looked up to notice the sallow look on his face or comment on his sunken eyes framed in that bitter purple color that speaks of sleepless nights.
He’s step was slow and deliberate as he reached the little table and he sat down heavy under the hear ace and despair that covered him like lead.
He was an unfortunate figure as he swallowed the scotch.

I had never been able to approach her, too fragile was my bond with her to dare chance the meeting, and yet there I was my hand on the back rest of her chair across from his sunken dreams prepared suddenly for any eventuality.
I sat down and fixed upon him and yet he did not seem alarmed at my presence not did he move to be rid of me.
I had stepped into his grief uninvited and yet undeterred.

He swallowed again and met my gaze.
“I saw you with her, on the road”
It was not a question, it was not even a statement yet I sensed it was a justification.
“ her name was Eve” he’s voice deep when he mentioned her name.
“I met her here 2 years ago and she made me feel like my life had just begun. I came back every night just to talk to her, just for her to look at me like she sees me”
It was whipped from his face as soon as the tear appeared.
“you see sir, I have lived so much of my life being invisible…..”
There was hesitation in his voice
“and I deserve to be. But with her…. With Eve I had substance”
“I am married you see….” Something about his tone told me that I didn’t see
“but Farah had taken to drinking when our child was still born three years ago. She drank to numb it she drank to forgive herself, she drank to forgive me for not falling as far she did, and after a while she stopped seeing me”
It was not the story I had imagined, but I kept still and watched as it played out across his face
“I came here every night to see Eve and she never presumed anything even when we had fallen so deeply in love that every fiber within me longed to touch her.
She wouldn’t of coarse, I was married and she had too much class to walk that road even if I had the courage to let her.”

He spoke long into the night.
At times he cried.
He had promised her a life together but Farah had taken a fall that night that had put her in a wheel chair.
A fall that had plunged him into the pits of guilt to heavy and sick with it to move.

Finally he finished. Eyes swimming in sorrow and relieve.
My words had no place here so I remained silent and watched him leave.
When I left the bar that night my mind was awash with possibilities.
He never touched her and yet he loved her.
The purity was almost to hard to believe and yet I wanted to with everything in me I wanted to believe and I wanted to tell it.
And I did.
Months latter the little paper back about a woman named vanilla who met a man in a bar every night to hear him say they could be together. About a man bound by guilt to his drunken wife and about a promise that could never be fulfilled hit the shelves under a dark cloud of critic.

“it lacked substance and believability” one said
“an idealistic love story, out of place in its modern setting, more suited for the housewife genre” another had taken printed.
Vanilla never made second edition and while I did not know it at the time but vanilla would be outsold three fold by a glossy commercial about a busty blond waitress who dreams of becoming a movie star.

The sidewalk was grubby and the night air would suffocate you in your sleep, with the newspaper and its hateful remarks tucked under my arm I ambled along the city streets cursing their insolence.
“How dare they”
“How dare they say that about her”
It was bitter as bile in my mouth and I cursed the shadows about me and this city that could not love her as I did.
“I loved her”
When I stepped into the smoggy little room my eyes caught a glimpse of him in the corner. Slumped slightly against the wall.
I had not spoken to him since the night of his confession and now as vanilla fell to the bottom of the must read list I had no intention peppering either of our wounds.
I took a table and ordered a bear intending to wash the hurtful words from my mind with the abrasive bubbles.
The waitress was still a waitress and she was little more than a dull figure in a cookie cutter spell in a book that did not fight me like vanilla did.
She delivered the beer, grinning a crooked grin and her hate of being here.
But there was something wrong.
My view had changed and I noted he was leaning on the wall and not simply slumped to one side.
I hated that he had fallen this far.
He was my hero Adonis in my pages and here he was squandering vanillas place in scotch and cigar smoke.
It angered me and as the horror bubbled up I stood and walked to him.
Deliberately, with intention.

The scotch had been laced with poison.
The police report would confirm.
It would latter be called a murder and I thought it more dignified as I folded the napkin and put it in my breast pocket.
Maybe one day I would write Vanilla again, he had given me my ending.
On the napkin in my pocket, in the scraggly hand of a dying man four simple words that she would never hear
“To be with you”

Men, Woman and Orgasms

2008-12-14T23:20:00.000-08:00

You probably thought there was something wrong with you, or that you were doing something wrong.
You’ve learnt to fake it like a professional and now you’re lying in the wet spot trying to imagine what it would be like to actually experience the ultimate high.
You have never told him and you have never told your girlfriends, because ultimately you think you’re dysfunctional.
If your adventurist you may have tried some sort of cream or stimulant and you’ve probably had no luck.
I know this because this is how I felt. I know this because I am just like you and it wasn’t until I admitted it loud and clear without shame on this blog and to many of my friends that other woman started to come out and admit that they too lived with the frustration.
I realized that I wasn’t the exception, but rather the norm, and I was gob-smacked by how well woman have been able to keep this under wraps.
It’s the best kept secret known to man (and yes I do mean man).
Each one of them is a Casanova in his own mind. The original Mr. Lover Lover and not one of them is privy to the fact that you (and 90% of the other woman his been with) stopped paying attention after the first 10minutes and were more than likely pondering the lineup in the TV guide for the rest of it.

My revelation is not an exaggeration.
A little while ago I used this blog to admit to the world that “I can’t orgasm during sex”.
I admit it was candidly and well hidden at best but it was picked up by a few people.
The men were dumbfounded naturally.
But it was the response from woman that got all my mental bells ringing.
Each conversation was understandably hushed but all sounded the same.
“Neither can I” they would say “I don’t know what’s wrong with me”.
I was a woman on a mission and I did as one tends to do in such situations. I googled it!
I was even more surprised to find ,literally hundreds upon thousands of questions about this problem on web sites devoted to woman.
But it was not until a male friend of mine mentioned something quite true to me that I was driven to discuss it with the world.

“This is false advertising” he said.
“All you woman are the same. You’re crazy in bed for the first few months and then all of a sudden it comes to an abrupt halt”
It hit me like a tone of bricks.
Like a sumo wrestler on a scooter on a downhill.
We’ve been keeping a secret that has and is damaging our relationships and destroying our sex lives.
You’ve had too many martini’s (may I suggest News café rose martini) and before you know it your telling your girlfriends that “he’s just not as in tune with me as he used to be”
He screws his secretary at the office party and justifies it with “a man has needs”

I believe that for the most part these problems can be solved if woman come clean.

I can see some conservative hackles being raised right now, and I can understand that after centuries of marginalization in the department of female sexual satisfaction that broaching a subject such as this is as comfortable as a chainsaw enema.
But ladies and gentlemen (and all those of ulterior persuasion) bear with me long enough to consider my point.

We call it the honeymoon period, the touchy feelies, the warm and fuzzies. It’s the first couple of months or weeks of a relationship and apart from the chase it is the most exciting time you will have together. Everything is new and hence exciting.
In a space of weeks you have driven each other to the limits of your physical capabilities you have an intimate knowledge of the grain of tile on his kitchen floor, the durability of the shower head and only the two of you know how that lamp really got knocked of the grand piano.
It’s intense and you are willing the excitement of exploring his body and simply being with him distracts you from the fact that you just can’t get there.
The point is that the thrill of the unknown that keeps you in bed till 14:00 in the afternoon without a care for your real mundane life and the happenings of the world.
For him it’s that and the marathon of mind blowing orgasms you afford him.

However fast-forward 8 or 9 months when the “do not disturb” sign has been taken down and real life intrudes on your sexy little existence.
The vanity has worn of.
He doesn’t put his laundry in the hamper.
He farts in bed.
And the mole on his left butt check is starting to resemble a tick more and more every day.
The girl who promised you she was immune to PMS is a fork tongued basilisk with smoke coming out of her ass 29 days a month.
The obsessive tidiness and inability to unwind is driving you insane.
And to crown it all she is picking up weight (leaving you in that oh-so dangerous territory of the “do I look fat in these jeans?” question)
The realization that both of you are little more than human beings with your own set of hang-ups and idiosyncrasies is slowly seeping in through the cracks of your matrix and as it does the lust at fire that once burnt between you seems to dwindle.

Its at this point where you loose interest.
Her payoff used to be the adrenaline rush spiked by the excitement of a new man, and since the vanity has long since warn of you are left with very few selling points when it comes to the bedroom.
He on the other hand may have slipped into the sexual rut but there is still a pay-off in the end.
That lucid orgasm that he can achieve and you can’t.
And since you never shared the truth about the matter with him, you’re still faking it and he has no reason to believe that your lacking libido has anything to do with him.

He settles for taking what he can get when he can get it and reserves the right to complain to his golfing buddies that you’re frigid.

Now consider for a moment that it was common knowledge that the female orgasm is an endangered species.
In the interest of preserving the life span of his all important sex life men will not only put more effort into satisfying you sexually but will also anticipate the fall of your libido and will be more willing to and more prepared to bolster the lack of excitement with either sweet seduction or the implementation of various tools.
He will understand that you may not be able to climax during sex but that you may be more susceptible to the stimulus during foreplay and will thus pay more attention to this department or whatever the case may be.

At the end of the day, not only will you see a huge improvement in the quality of your love making but you will be communicating about sex and it is my personal feeling that couples don’t do that enough.
We are more comfortable communicating to our friends what we are not getting from our sexual relationships than what we are communicating these same feelings to our partners.

Now Ladies to get to the question that you are all mumbling at me.
“What makes you think a man cares enough about what I’m getting out of it to make the effort?”
Well the answer is quite simple.
It’s a cardinal truth about men that you should never forget.
There are fair few things in this life that men are willing to go all out for while his sex life is one of them his ego is the other.
He wants you to tell your friends that he rocked your world.
He wants you to go to work smiling like a fool
He wants you to believe that he is a sex god because that is good for his ego (and of coarse the alteration it brings to the way other people perceive him doesn’t hurt).
He is also willing to go the extra mile to achieve this.

Its just a thought.
Mull it over
Use it don’t use it.

Vanilla (Part 2)

2008-12-11T03:58:00.000-08:00

Ahead in the street
She was wearing white I recognized the fall of fringe across her left eye and her confident gaint.
Parts of me wanted to touch her, wanted to dip into the soul of a woman so untouchable yet so painfully honest but parts of me feared that what I may find would tarnish the dazzling reality I had built for her.
I could write her an Olympian goddess in her white linen skirt that blossomed ever so slightly around her knees.
She could be my afrodity, an immortal perfection only she could do justice to, a Marry Magdalene perhaps, cloaked in secrets powerful enough to crumble the walls of faith.

No I would not touch her.
I dare not ripple the cesspool of captivation and poison it with the mundane.
I chose rather to walk in her shadows.
Hers a confident step that parted the pedestrians in her way like Moses parted the waters mine and uncomfortable duck and weave as I struggled to maintain the distance between us.
A distance so close that I could make out the fine hairs in her neck so close that I could smell the vanilla of her skin yet I kept her out of reach willing my finger tips not to reach out to her.

I checked the Knock-off again as the bar on the corner came into sight. 17:02
As I looked up she had stepped off the kirb stones onto the steaming tar to cross the street that lay like a ravine between her and amber light pouring through the windows.
The constant rhythem of the clack of her heals on the sidewalk paving quickened as she trotted across the black surface her white skirts trailing in the evening breeze she was a liposaner in a gracefull canter.
Splashed across the city noises.
Trucks
Cars
Voices
Foot falls
Sirens……sirens.
It was the human fascination with the macabre that dragged my eyes from the goddess in the street and searched the untidy maze of road and stone for the origin of the screeching scull splitting noise.
The damp mob on the pavement in front of me pressed me back as I found the electric blue flash of lights and the screech of tires and metal grew closer.
It showered her face in streaming blue light and for the fist time I saw vanilla display undisguised emotion but I was pushed further back caught in the retreating press.
I struggle against the bodies

I was afforded only moments to drink her up.
Only moments and I could drown in her eyes
I lived a hundred lives in the fall of her body.
It was seconds and my senses were grappling with the realization of her mortality, but my mind, my mind allowed me the stretch of a life time, one spent imprisoned by her embrace delirious from her sent my mind afforded me a thousand mornings with her a beautiful waste of time

The noise must have been unbearable it was the dull thud that boomed in my mind and paralyzed my body.
The police cars with their white and blue war paint ripped an open wound in the city streets. It was like summer lightning tearing closer to my vanilla.
It seemed that the city exhaled when the effort to swerve brought the car into a vicious velocity driven slide.
And then the thud.
I had tried to grasp her so many times but it was like trying to catch and hold onto smoke, perhaps that was why I clung to a bitter hope that she would evaporate ahead of the side long slam that must have broken her back.
But alas she would not be carried away on the chill that swirled among the high buildings.
No wind would sweep her away and perch her out of harms way

Her body was not twisted and contorted into the macabre puppetry of the pain her final moments must have afforded her.
I don’t know why I thought it would be.
The steam that rose from the road had swallowed her up as she fell and swept a curtain of ghostly silver across her face.
Her eyes were closed guarding the onlooker around me from pits of sorrow that swam in her hazel eyes.
And her hands, still warm in mine. Each perfect finger weaved into mine and I was a fool for imagining I could feel the blood pulsing through the fine blue veins underneath her cashmere skin

Peace.
There were no fancy words or flourishes I could bath her lifeless face in.
Her hair had come loose and the dark tresses framed her beautiful face the evening light burning red shards into the chocolate colors of her hair.
I understood now why people often revert to such an unimaginative cliché when revering to death.
Moments drew on and I felt the heat her hands dissipate and I held her tighter willing it to remain just a little longer.
People mulled about her I recall a paramedic check a pulls I knew he would not find.

“did you know her” it was a shout in a thick African accent from the medic at her other arm.
I don’t know how long it took me to respond because he repeated the barked question before I was able to stutter a reply. Was I crying?
“yes” it was weak and only barely audible over the voices and noises that amplified the horror of the scene.
“tell me her name”
Words that were never there died to dust in my mouth as I searched the Angelique face of a woman I’d never known.
I didn’t know her name, and yet I held her hand tighter willing the reality away trying with my every fiber to hold onto it at as the heat slipped from her hands and the sun kissed glow dissipated from her skin .
In desperation I reverted my eyes and searched instead for answers, or sympathy in the dark little face of the medic.
But I found another face nearby. In an ocean of curiosity and fascination he stood. Unassuming and sallow his shoulders were slumped.
It was the current of unmasked pain and open regret in the tearful grey eyes that made me let go of her.
I had intruded. Walked on holey ground

Vanilla (part 1)

2008-12-09T00:38:00.000-08:00

Its strange how a great lie can be a great romance
how I can respect you more for your rejection.
and how your braver for not fighting for it.
this is vanilla

17:03 the time had seemed odd at first but it had been weeks since I hade first been witness to this intrigue and I had long since stopped pondering its significance.
It was no more than the metallic clatter of a door opening above the din of the evening crowd and she was there.
Back straight and determined she marched….no strode across the dimly lit room undeterred by the feathers of cigar smoke brushing the slight blush on her check.
She wore heels as always with her hair swept back into a twist, I divined that it was a skilled accidents that escaped the dark fringe from its pins and brought it romantically over her left eye.
Always the left eye.
She did not check her step as she grazed past the waitress tending my table.
Vanilla everyday vanilla.

“Your becoming a regular”
The busty waitress crackled, her voice grated.
Her face was pretty yet marred by hard years. The yellowy shade to the inside of her well formed lips belied years of cigarette smoke. Her eyes were smiling that forced dutiful smile.
Soft on the eye, hard on the heart, possibly trodden dreams of a silver screen like many her age in these parts of jozi.
Her long blond hair and impractical style for waiting tables and though her finger nails were clipped short one could see the glossy finish of a clear nail varnish.
Hers were the stories I lived for.
Everyone has a story, everyone has a battle and they wear them on their bodies like patchwork raincoats.
Out on the street a beggar wears the grace and air of a former life. His shoulders square and the fleeting flickers of pride in his sallow face tell of a man who hit the bottom harder because of the distance he fell.

I nodded at the waitress smiled and drew the glass nearer.
My attention momentarily wandering from the woman cloaked in vanilla to the bubbles bobbing in my beer. It took but a moment for me to find her a place.
Id type her in tonight.
Shed like that I thought to myself, Ill make her an actress or a cabaret singer in a smoky Broadway club.
She disappeared her long hair escaping its bonds as she turned on her heal and headed to the rowdy crowd near the bar.

When I returned to vanilla she had found her table, deserted as usual in an uncomfortable corner in the back of the pub.
The light was a smoky amber and for a moment I considered perhaps “the mistress of a gangster” but the thought left as soon as it came, their were no showy pretences of riches about vanilla she wore a classical class that oozed of pride, she was an effortlessly sexy but most of all she was mysterious.
And it was this brought me here every night with the blue collar crowd.

Her poise was not downcast but her chin was tilted only far enough to let the shadows cloak her eyes
Eyes that never scanned the room.
She knew he would come.

Serene I thought as my mind gripped at adjectives to dress vanilla in
She sat slightly sideways her legs comfortably crossed accentuating the curve of her calve.
Nothing about her was anxious or expectant.

7minutes latter he entered.
He entered as he always did, allowing himself the slightest pause to drink her in, always the phantom of a smile in his eyes as he spots her in the corner.

Ignorant of my movie star waitress cooing her good evenings at him in syrupy tones he begins the journey towards the back of the bar.
Journey…..
He wears the black linen of a well tailored suit only to mask the beat of his heart, is it anguish, is it fear, that implacable emotion that twitches the sinew in he’s square jaw. Implacable though it may be its not the twitch I noticed first.
As he comes shuffling through the crowd past my table I catch a glimpse of it again. Misty gray eyes swallowed in a strong draft of longing and sorrow.
There was no smells or distinctions about this man, tall undoubtedly handsome but simple.

If she had sensed his presence noting about her belied that. She sat still her chin still tilted hiding her eyes from me.
When he reached her table he pressed his right hand to his left breast pocket the effort was deliberate but not forced, and it gave me the idée that this man needed to force very little in his life.
Yet he came her with intention every night and night after night his intentions were the things that kept the synapses of my brain firing late into the night.

The waitress was back to clear my glass.
her body blocked my few of the couple in the corner as she replaced the ashtray and removed the foamy remains of the beer.
I shuffled uncomfortably in my seat, anxious be rid of the girl.
“another” the words sounded short and rude as I croaked them at her and I felt the temperature drop
“please” I added a bit to quickly and forced a smile at her.
With a difficult curl in her lips she shuffled of to the kitchen.
I didn’t notice the gentle sway in her hips as she weaved through the people in her way my attention was fixed on the story that refused to reveal itself in the back of the bar.

He shifted easily into the small chair across the table from vanilla, it was only then that she lifted her face into the smoggy yellow light and allowed me to see her eyes.
It was the moment I had played out in my mind each night for two weeks, the moment I could not write, single seconds that had afforded me countless rewrites and driven me to the limits of my abilities and instincts.
Something moved in those deep hazel eyes as they settled on the unassuming honest face of the man across the table.
It was torturously implacable and yet so intensely honest.
A remarkable unknown that had driven me to weave, destroy and rethink every web I had built for her.

They did not greet one another.
Not a hand shake nor a hallo passed between them. He simply sat down and met her gaze with his.
It was not a challenge nor was it a scrutiny.
He seemed to settle in her eyes.
Minutes passed and still they had no words for one another just an impenetrable stare.
Around them the pub seemed to heave with end of day relieve.
Some laughed and a group of businessmen near me toasted some recent success. My waitress fought a see of wondering hands with wavering patience to deposited my beer wordlessly on my table.
And yet Vanilla and the man sat lost in their own place oblivious to the milling push of humanity around them.
The cackle from the large woman in the booth behind them shattered the air and yet passed without a flicker of notice from the dark little table in the corner.

Minuets drew on like this.
Until as suddenly as she had come, she got up and moved for the door
The clatter again and she was gone.
Swallowed up by heavy hot air of Johannesburg’s nocturnal throbbing.

I watched him heave a sigh but it wasn’t relief. Perhaps self loathing.
As if on queue a mousy little waitress appeared at his table with a scotch glass. He nodded and smiled easily at the uninteresting little creature who scampered back to her post behind the bar and left him alone again.
He sloshed the golden liquid and ice around in the glass twice brought it to his lips and swallowed it with a single gulp.
He looked at the drained glass remorsefully as he held it at eye level propped up on his elbow.
I tested the water again and conjured up a world of industrial espionage as he placed the glass and a R50 note on the table. But dismissed it again as he passed me on this way to the door.
Deeper I thought to myself. Human, yes, and honest.
Unchecked unrefined and untapped the story that sat only tables away from me would not be tamed as easily and try as I may she would not let me dress her in the intrigue and flattery of a commercial best.
No Vanilla would be raw.

She was still in my mind when I left the pub. Stepping out into the smothering air I sniffed a futile sniff hoping that her scent my guide me.
But there was nothing.
Nothing more than diesel fumes and noise that crowded the narrow sidewalks of a changing city bursting at its seems with societal contrast.
I would try tomorrow again but I was starting to fear I was a fool and a brick wall.
I flicked a silver coin at the hobo with air and grace before moving the old Pontiac barracuda into the snaking traffic.

*******

By 16:30 the view from my office window had changed its face. October rains had thundered down on the tall buildings and dirty streets all day and washed the grime from old jozi leaving her smelling of sun baked tar and sulphurus lightning.
The evening sun was just starting to pierce the bruised clouds and shot shards of red light into the allies and windows of dilapidated buildings.
Street venders and beggars started to emerge from the cities wounds, they oozed from every crevice and unoccupied shelter.
Hobbling up and down the lines of parked German luxuries pleading for the copper stuff that rattles and jangles in the pockets of the bankers and brokers who poor through the turnstiles of the four giants of the economy.
She had come so far and she had seen so much, and yet her inhabitants carried with them the daunting premonition that the beast that stirrs below the vibrant surface may wake at any moment.

I stepped out into the streets, considered going for the Pontiac only momentarily before seeing the long line of red tail lights stretched out along commissioner str.
My city is bleeding I thought to myself and congratulating myself of my poetic flare.
Ill have to use that somewhere.
At a slightly hurried pace I set of along the bustling sidewalks feeling the city air seep in through my pores.
Today will be the day I was sure of it as I had been the thirteen days preceding today.

It was there but only for a moment.
My mind had not yet had a chance to process the broken pieces of an image and dismissed it almost instantly.
The knock off Rolex on my wrist grew heavier as I realized how late it was.
I quickened my pace and it was as I slipped between the throng and press of human bodies I saw it again.
This time the picture lingered long enough to scrape the confines of comprehension.

Ahead in the street
She was wearing white I recognized the fall of fringe across her left eye and her confident gaint.

why men and woman dont work

2008-12-04T01:24:00.000-08:00

I want you to look out of your window just for a moment and marvel at wonders of nature. Pay attention to how every part of our world performs all its functions like clockwork as it should each day.
There are no flaws in the engineering no glitches in the production line.
Now sit back down, because I’m about to ruin it for you.

There are few reasons I firmly believe in Darwin’s evolutionist theories most of which I won’t get into now because I have a point to prove and a very short attention span to do it in.
What was I saying……?
Oh yes evolution.
I believe in evolution because it is my only hope for mankind.
In stark contrast to the smooth flawless workings of the rest of nature, mankind sticks out as a project that might not have been as well thought out.
Childbirth I believe is glittering example of this flaw in our engineering. (Yes it’s a miracle and we were designed to do that I know, but for crying in a bucket surely there are better design options).

Another example is the relationship between men and woman.
I understand that I have just offended every boy band, soap star, teenage girl, Cosmo reader, hopeless romantic, Emo and self help book writer within a 100mile radius, but before you start torching the stake and waving your pitchforks at me again, give me fair chance to explain my reasoning.

Just like child birth, heterosexual relationships can be equated to trying to get a 70mm bolt through a 30mm nut.
“Iemand gaan sy moer strip”
And so when said nut meets said bolt and instinct dictates that the job needs to be done we begin a process of grinding, banging (granted the banging isn’t that bad), pushing, forcing manipulating, twisting and bitching their way into a fit.
This process is generally referred to a relationship.

Lately I have been a fly on the wall to some rather interesting relationships. Most of these relationships are hanging on by the skin of their knees, some have just started, some have just ended and some are destined to fail.
But all of these misshaped trysts have one thing in common and that is a lack of basic understanding of the person opposite you.

Don’t dare count me an expert, I lack the human compassion I would need to sugar coat my theories with.
However I do have perspective, I am a woman among men. I have fought for my right to be there and thrive among them because I understand them.
I also recently acquired a female friend and am gaining knowledge on what normal woman want out of life.

So here they are….
Things men and woman should know about relationships (AKA. The Moer strip marathon)

Romance:
Guys: Hitch was right, no woman wakes up in the morning hoping not to get swept of her feet. Woman are badly influenced by the Hollywood definition of the right guy.
They want to be doted upon. They want to know that you would go out of your way to make her feel special. If you are not willing to go out of your way for her don’t even bother it’s a bad sign.

Girls: Sit down and shut up!
This is a hard lesson to learn but I’m saving you a lot of disappointment by teaching you this.
You want the guy who is gonna bring you flowers he picked himself, give you the cutest nickname, remember you birthday, and your favorite movie, he’l bring you ice-cream when your sad, and call you huggy bear or something equally as cheesy.
He will profess his undying love to you in public and surprise you for no reason.
Hang on I just threw up in my mouth a bit….

Okay, you have been conditioned to want this because Hollywood told you that real men are like that. Hollywood also created superman and the walking dead.
(quite frankly Id rather hook up with the walking dead)

The reality is that men have not yet evolved that far.
You are looking for the thrills and fuss while he wants someone who he can have a good laugh with.
He wants the hunny who can look killer sexy with a 10min bathroom check. But doesn’t have issues being seen in jeans and a t-shirt with no makeup on.
He wants you to say screw it lets do it.
He wants to laugh at a dirty joke, and get on with his buddies.
The less complicated you are the better.
Men are like dogs in a way, they want a relaxed life and someone to play with their ball every now and then.

Guys: Nature programmed woman to nurture.
Woman are creatures who crave stability, loyalty and devotion.
When she cooks dinner for you that is a sign of love.
Think about it, this is the 21 century she does not have to iron your shirt, cook your dinner or wash your cloths.
It is purely because she cares for your well being.
Believe me we gain nothing from it.
If you come home late without telling her and your dinner is ruined, that my friend is a sign that you don’t appreciate it. Call if your gonna be late.
If she washes your cloths and you leave them on the floor, that is a sign that you are taking her for granted (remember she does not have to do it)
And when she asks you to help her with the dishes don’t mope look at what she’s done out of pure compassion.
Oh and by the way. When your in a fight about how you don’t appreciate her never ever say that you didn’t ask her to do those things because you should have spoke up sooner.

Girls: As much as you want and need stability in your life, you would do well to understand that men were programmed differently.
Every single man regardless of his age or nature is insecure about his manhood. And freedom is not a negotiable in a relationship.
Don’t get me wrong don’t give him too much freedom.
Everything in moderation.
But stand up for yourself. Tell him from the beginning what you are willing to tolerate and what is not allowed. You cannot expect him follow orders that were never given.
But you must understand that he is not your pet. Let him go out with the guys, Guys remind guys that they are guys.
Let him have a hobby, even if its something you don’t care for.
Your not his mother or his warden.
Don’t check up on him, if he feels you don’t trust him he will feel smothered and a smothered man is again like a dog… he will find a hole in the wall no matter how high you build that wall.

GUYS!: This is a big one so listen up!!!!!
Here is the true definition of cheating.
If you are doing something you wouldn’t want her to be doing. You my friend are cheating.
Yes it is end of story.
The fact that you have a dick and the fact that you subscribe to that lame ass excuse that you were born to spread your seeds does not give you more leeway then she gets.

GIRLS by the way the same counts for you.
Don’t ever say that it was because he wasn’t loving you enough.
That just means that you were to spineless and comfortable to leave

GUYS!: a woman with a healthy sex drive and who is self expressive enough to tell you where to get of doesn’t need you, so I can easily see how you might be driven to call her a slut, but be reminded that she doesn’t care

GIRLS: You will not die from dirt, a spanner something you slaughter cows with, Britney spears is not music, “like totally” is not an English expression, one does not wear heels on a fishing trip, nobody cares what your hair looks like and Rugby is not barbaric.
Live a little when your dead youl wish you did.

Guys: those arnt knobs on a TV set Twisting is a big no!!!!!!

Klein vrede vergete

2008-12-03T02:36:00.000-08:00

Granted as far as artistic expression is concerned its not a master piece. There is no structure no form, it doesnt fit into a specific genre or even one single language.
But its human, its human expression.
Grief has no form and tact it has no care for art and structure.
This is not a pretty peom, its not a pretty emotion. Its memory as I remember them its things I cant say enough, its me trying to fix a broken soul.
So read it dont judge it.
I am not giving this to the world,Im keeping it for myself it belongs to someone who isnt here to claim it.

“A diamond for every day”
Ek was suikerbekkie met son opkoms
“Burn the flesh from my soul”
“Diesel oil and tyre smoke”
Johantjie slap saggies op die sitkamer bank
Klein vrede vergete
My more is uitgevee
“You’re the ghost of my darkness”
“My heartache my drama my fear”
Baby baby karoolis se kind
Jy’s rolo jy’s jassies jy’s binne jy’s buite
Aan my finger gebind

“I will brand you to my skin”
“Scribble it all so I don’t forget”
Jys my knak weg
My liefdes verhaal
Jys my gister
My more se knal
“I will lock you up”
“I will keep you safe”
“Forget you not in digits and keys”

Jy was daar toe is jy nie
My sonskyn van my weg gesteel
Jy’s die brand in my skuld
Jy’s die bitter in my hart
Jy’s die leeg in my woorde
Wat nooit sal kan verduidelik
‘n liefde so bitter en diep
‘n bond do swaar en hard
Yster en teer konnie verslaan
Wat steeds hier in my brand

Johantjie my babes
Ek pak jou weg in bokse in drome
Kom skuil in ons huisie in kwaste en spinnerakke
“now im on fire”
Onverwacht
Seun van smart
December se kind
Lank verwacht
Totsiens tot latter
Goobaai my tjom
Eks lief vi jou

Battles of dogs and power

2008-12-03T00:00:00.001-08:00

Be kind for surely, everybody you meet is fighting a great battle.
I have been given a lot of crackpot advice in my life, and I have gotten on perfectly well by ignoring most of it.
People are always willing to give advice.
Walk up to anybody in the office right now present them with a problem and hear them go.
My reaction to this is always the same.
I listen intently, make agreeable noises, offer a watered down opinion and then go off and do exactly as I please.
My reluctance to listen to the endless drone of people who have no intention of helping you but cant pass up the opportunity to listen to themselves sound superior does however not stop me from taking good advice when it does cross my path.
And the words “be kind for surely, everyone you meat is fighting a great battle” Is good advice.

You might think it an exaggeration.
After all from where you’re standing some battles are barely fights.
But think for a moment, what is the greatest battle in your life at the moment.
It my be coming to terms with a death, fighting an illness, coming to terms with your place in life, an unhappy marriage, financial worries or simply passing an exam.

For some the greatest battle is waking up in the morning.

Few of us realize that it is not the epic proportion that makes our battles and our problems great but rather the power, the energy and emotion that we devote to them.

We hear of crimes of passion every day, we shake our heads roll our eyes and say “it seems a silly thing to kill for”
We blame suicide on the weak selfish attitudes of a person who was unwilling to deal with their problems.
But we never consider how much of themselves these people have given to their problems.

Our new age culture teaches us to be in touch with our emotions without teaching us how to deal with our emotions.
It teaches us how to become more emotionally in tune human beings without warning us about the limitless power our emotions have over us.

Truly our problems are great.
One might do well never to underestimate them.
But we may choose to feed our battles on the fear the anger the heart ace and jealousy that is the casualty of any battle.
Or we may choose to retaliate with compassion optimism and revelation.

So today on “wish I had listened Wednesday” I want to leave you with three pieces of advice that I have been using every day for the past three weeks.
The first being the phrase mentioned above: “be kind for surely, everyone you meet is fighting a great battle”
The seconds is “great power is having the ability ruin you and choosing not to” and the third:
Within us we each have two dogs, one is good and the other is evil, if these to dogs were to attack one another, which dog would win?....the one you fed the most”

Today I want you to be kind because those who hurt you are probably hurting themselves and have been feeding the wrong dog all their lives.

2008-12-02T04:45:00.000-08:00

I grew up a sharp tongued, quick witted little vixen. Sensing a persons insecurities and attacking them without remorse or blatantly manipulating them to serve my needs was a technique mastered out of necessity.
A necessity born from the fact that my formative years in grade school were spent at the bottom of the food chain.
Being a perceptive child this fact did not escape my attention especially not when I was humiliated and bullied.
Yes friends bullied, I was bullied.
And the only reason I can admit this today is because I realize the great impact those few years had on my life, I realize that in a big way that was the fire that forged me.

Today strong willed determined and fearless you will often hear me say “do as you please” or “its your life its up to you to live it” or something equally prone to self fulfillment sell motivation and self gratification. And while I advocate this independent way of life the fact that other human beings influence us more than we dare believe.

The fact is easily illustrated too.
I always say that its great to be Lee, cos I just don’t give a fuck.
This for the most part is true but if I really didn’t care what people think I would have a blue streak in my hair tattoos on my hands a nose ring and black nails.
As it stands however I wake up in the morning don the heels and the dress that is most likely to churn the stomachs of my male client base into making me stinking rich.

Our definition of success and happiness are defined by the parameters society sets.
The houses we own the cars we drive the company keep each aspect scrutinized and measured against what is and what isn’t acceptable to everybody other than ourselves

I try hard too keep other people out of my business and not ask for advice.
But when problems start with song lyrics and words like “I don’t know… for the first time in my life I don’t know” Google is very little help

wHEn tHE liGhtNing StRiKES (Smokie)

2008-12-01T22:22:00.000-08:00

Ask No questions and you shall hear no lies

It's close to midnight
There's a chill in the air
I long to touch you
but I don't dare
there's a wall between us
there's a storm in the air
though yu're lying beside me
It's like you're not even there
When the lightning strikes
I don't want to be here
when the cold wind bites
I don't want to be here
Ooh it hurts me
though we won't be talking
I hear every word you say
Now the rain is falling
Like a million tears
Coming through my window
To wash away the years
When the lightning strikes...
Oh can you feel it
there's astorm in the air
and it's getting nearer
when the cloud breaks
I don't want to be here
to feel the rain
feel the pain
There's a wall between us
There's a storm in the air
though you're lying beside me
It's like you're not even there
When the lightning strikes
Oh can you feel it
there's a storm in the air
And it's getting nearer
when the cloud breaks
I don't want to be here
to feel the rain
When the lightning strikes...
When the lightning strikes...

50 things updated

2008-11-28T04:36:00.000-08:00

You know who you are!
I dont want to talk about it!

1. I have been single since April
2. I am fine with it too, it was hard at first because I really didn’t like being alone but now I’m used to it and appreciate the chance to do as I please with my time
3. I wish people would stop asking why I’m single like it’s a disease or like a pretty girl has to have a man for self validation
4. I have developed this tendency for picking up guys who are either married or in steady relationships
5. I have realized that all men want to marry the reserved chicks but reserve the right to play with the wild chicks
6. I believe that female relationships are the reason why females in general have insecurities trust issues and are just generally a pain in my ass
7. At the end of the month I am resigning
8. I am so glad about this because working here has pushed the limits of my professional patience to break point.
9. I have rediscovered my love of all things cars thanks to the drifting.
10. I go to the drifting free practice every Wednesday night and every first Saturday of every month
11. I get the warm and fuzzies when I smell tire smoke.
12. Lately I have started expressing my emotions because I was told you cant bottle things up.
13. this has brought me to realize that I can and should bottle these things up
14. worse than that is the fact that I started sharing things about my life
15. I will never do that again there is a reason why they are private thoughts, because when you release them people find a way to hurt you with them
16. I don’t want to be in a relationship because its gonna compromise my freedom and social life
17. I want to be in a relationship because it will compromise my social life sometimes I go a whole week on 5 hours of sleep
18. I really miss writing but I don’t have the time for it
19. I intend buying a 350z by June next year. I get commission at the new job and I am pretty okay at what I do
20. I have been doing gymkhana lately
21. yes with Giffie
22. I have gotten a new piercing. Its called a hood piercing and only the privileged few will get to see it
23. The tattoo on my back is dedicated to Johan. It’s a sunbird. Johan used to call me Suikerbekkie.
24. I miss him like crazy: I am hanging out with all his old friends lately and they remind me so much of him sometimes, each in his very own way but if you knew Johan like I did you’d be able to clearly see how they influenced one another.
25. I thought I had come to that point where I could live my life without that longing for him make me want to cry every night
26. I cry every night
27. When he died I stopped writing. It was like my words had dried up.
28. Now I miss him so much and I can write again
29. I think I put him in a box and closed it tight; I went from relationship to relationship just so that I wouldn’t have to be alone. Because when I’m alone I have to deal with myself.
30. I wish someone would love me like he did again
31. And I hope that this time I will be deserving of such love and devotion.
32. I’ve started wearing his ring again
33. This Christmas is the first one in 11 years that I will be alone
34. That doesn’t bother me
35. I want to get a tattoo for my dad I was thinking something that says “daddies little girl” or “beloved” my dads name was David it means “beloved”
36. Stiffla has a new girl friend. I’m happy for him but the fact that I was thinking of getting back together with him before he found her grinds me
37. Grinds me doesn’t mean I’m annoyed, I don’t get angry anymore or sad for that matter. Its just that silly little thought that you cant get rid of and keeps popping into your head for no reason. Its kina like having a Rottweiler hump your leg
38. either way I am happy for him
39. I am having IM sex with one of my clients
40. I have learnt to live with facebook
41. I started to learn HTML but quit cos I don’t have time
42. I didn’t consider this when I said I was registering for my Bcom banking
43. I am gonna have to compromise on that social life
44. the nicest guy I have met since I’ve been single has this MOERSE personality flaw his married and will pretty much hump anything that stands still long enough
45. I wish I cared or even felt deprived any emotion regarding my love life would be nice
46. I went to a sex shop the other day and I can spend my whole salary there
47. I cant walk past a perfume shop lately without going in
48. and coming out smelling like a baby prostitute
49. its great to be me Because I really don’t give a Fuck
50. Regardless of all my issues I still rock and love my life

doors

2008-11-28T03:32:00.000-08:00

In arches and in frames
For homes for houses
Rusty and creaky al covered in briar brambled knots
Pretentious cloaks that hide what within rots

We paint them red we paint them black
With locks with windows knockers and knobs
We lock them we use them to keep the frightening out
They will swallow and they will hide the things we say when we shout

They stand ajar
Or welded shut
They keep out the winds bitter cut
At bay be the night cold
They shelter their wards from malignant hold
Our souls are safer kept
By the doors we put up

2008-11-26T05:04:00.000-08:00

sweet you smile
your time nearly up
fill my ears with your toxic bile
soon I shal sip deeply from your cup

For flesh our knives do thirst
you beat that drum that called me to war
revel now for I shall bury you for your tryst
just earth and sliance no ceremony for a whore

and in your final through
as darkness suffocates
you will then know
my hand your fall did orchastarte

by unknown 2002

bottels are safe

2008-11-26T04:40:00.000-08:00

On more than occasion I have been called cold. I have been told that I bottel things up, that I should talk about it.
It was only recently that I realised that everybody was right. I do internalise things. No I dont talk about how I feel and yes I do bottel things up. And this is how I realised that a sleeping dragon in the earths core is less distructive than a rampant fire breathing bitch on the surface.

Yes people I did it.
I started talking about it, and every time I voiced a fear a concern a need a want it stripped away my armour and left me vulnerable.
It seems that tears weeken the spine.

I stew when I talk about anger, I may be slightly annoyd but by the time I have talked about it my anger would feed the fires of hell.
Sadness verbalised can drive me to suicide and I will not event begin to discribe the desadter braught of by verbalising a crush.

I am not gonna talk about this.
My lesoon was hard learnt. when I say leave me the Fuck alone do yourself a favour leave me the fuck alone.
next year is a new begining and I have a few scores to settle.

MOVING TO WORDPRESS

2008-02-13T05:34:00.000-08:00

Ladies, Gentlemen and all those in-between.
The move is complete.
The mortgage is approved and we have done some prelim decorations.
WE HAVE MOVED TO WORDPRESS
I will hold onto my blog here because I am sentimental
Will has deleted his
And soon you guys will meet Stiffy
Please go have a look… I have posted the meme from Gluggs there.
WE ARE AT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

www.nosjunkie.wordpress.com

Wrodpress?

2008-02-11T03:32:00.000-08:00

I want your opinion…
Will Stiffla and I have been thinking about moving to Wordpress and starting a communal blog between myself Stiffla and Will.
I want to go because you can do more stuff with it
Will wants to go because he doesn’t have a hell of a lot of time to post daily and if the blog is communal there will at least be something up everyday.
Stiffla wants to go because blogger has deleted two of his blogs already and he is too scared to try and start another one lest the same happens.
What do you guys think about it

50 Things about me

2008-02-08T00:16:00.001-08:00

Sweet ass tagged me to write 50 things about me
I have already doen 100 things so if I mentioned some things here that were mentioned before and you noticed it you read my blog to often and you sould get help.
Here goes.

1) I like old book shops I love the way they feel
2) I love old books in general because of how the paper smells you know that mothy dusty smell
3) I am a hopeless romantic at heart. I never show it but I would love to be swept of my feet with something other than an actual broom
4) My slight addiction to oblivion has resurfaced with the release of shivering isles
5) I have never been overseas… never even set foot out of the country
6) I am obsessed with Egyptian myth and history
7) Come to think of it I am obsessed with History
8) I cannot stand being alone. I listen to 702 nowadays so that I can pretend I have people around me when I go on long trips
9) I love Stiffla to bits but I hate his car. Its lovely and fast but it costs him a fortune to maintain and we are trying to finish a house.
10) I love to dance… if I could afford it I would go dancing every single night
11) I am developing a girly obsession with the way I look and I think it has to do with the work I do
12) I am not tolerant of peoples insecurities
13) I have always been a bad speller and I have never ever made an effort to better it. Apparently my spelling should be better than it is because I read like hell.
14) I haven’t been to gym all week and its eating me up its like I can feel the fat grow on me
15) I feel guilty about spending money on myself but spend a fortune on Stiffla without a thought
16) I miss my little sister deeply. She never spends any time with us anymore because I hate her boyfriend, he also doesn’t let her hang out with us because my friends are guys and she’s not allowed to be around guys
17) I think that’s fucked up
18) I swear like a sailor
19) I love hubbly bubbly
20) If I meat target this year I win a trip to Dubai
21) I am getting married at home
22) I read Meave Binchy when I don’t want to make an effort… she writes watered down feel good stuff but does it really well because she starts her characters as kids and then writes their whole life
23) I check the progress of the Angels and daemons movie every two weeks or so.
24) I own fewer pair of shoes than Will
25) I have ugly toes and good looking hands
26) I love Benoni and I don’t get why people think its naf
27) I would rather shower than bath
28) I love woolies food and secretly wish I was enough of a coogle to only shop there
29) In June I am gonna try distance learning again and start my degree in banking
30) I owe my last boss R3000 to pay back my retainer
31) I like looking at my boobs the gyming has done some good stuff for them
32) I delete all e-mails that say if you love god or if you have a heart without reading them
33) I believe in magic
34) I love giving gifts
35) The fact that this time next year I’ll be married creeps me out
36) I have this sneaky suspicion I will be pregnant right after the wedding
37) I am broody, can you tell
38) I want to have boys.
39) I am running out of stuff to say here
40) When I was a kid I poked a hole in my sisters check with a wire coat hanger, broke her arm and saved her from drowning in the fishpond
41) My family never mentions that I saved her
42) I wish I had a desk job
43) I don’t hate pink I just don’t wear or use it on principle…. I feel it represents the dumb woman movement.
44) I hate minibus taxis almost as much as I hate my sisters boyfriend
45) I am over being pissed at my step dad I don’t like him but it just doesn’t matter anymore
46) I am bad at sports and I cant stand people who get competitive when we play for fun cos I am there for the fun of it
47) I hate sweet potatoes
48) I love debonair double stack cheesy pepperoni pizza
49) I like tomato cocktail more than any other drink and people think its disgusting
50) Sometimes I want to go all out goth and go hang out at gospel CD shops

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

2008-02-07T22:23:00.000-08:00

They say that men are like wine and they only get better with age.
They also say that there’s an exception to every rule….
That exception lives with me and he hasn’t shaved his mug for three days.
On Sunday the 10th of February Will is turning Twenty years old and will be entering his last year of blissful bullshit before Twenty one turns him into an adult (yes I am hoping for a miraculous 360)

We are going to spend the day at Nkwe provided that the rain plays the game and if anybody would like to come along you are more than welcome.

However if you can’t join us please feel free to spam Will with text messages all day Sunday
This is his cell number 071 493 0489

HAPPY BIRTHDAY WILLEM-PIE-PIES

2008-02-07T03:26:00.000-08:00

I think I am being boycotted, either that or the residance of blog street have all come down with a flesh eating virus
god I hope its the virus I just couldnt stand not being liked.
Yest I know I know I havent been the hottest commenter either.
I always start at the top of my blogroll and work my way down and lately I havent had time to visit everybody so if your at the bottom like poor old sweet ass dont worry I am gonna start from the bottom from now on.
Has anybody noticed that the spell checker doesnt work

Runn Of The Mill Cooking Injury

2008-02-05T04:48:00.000-08:00

The long serious post flew out the window when a snotty mucussy cold and a typek box of work walked in the door.
I considered putting my head to it again at about 9 this morning but since the Kitty-rats are fast becoming hyperactive-noisy-nocturnal-bed invading-little brats I have not had much sleep and listening to myself drone on about politics and crap would put me to sleep in half a heartbeat so I decided to spare you another round.

Last night I went into my first full on Eskom bitching parade.
The injury Eskom’s load shedding did to my ego is irreparable and I doubt that I will ever live it down.
The fact is that while seeing people run on a treadmill may be an everyday sight, seeing someone run into a treadmill is not…
Yes ladies and gents that’s me
There I am having my brisk (very brisk) afternoon run in a slightly packed gym when dear old Escom cuts the power in mid step.
The treadmill stops abruptly and my next (unavoidable footfall) sends me careering into the keypad thingie.
While the darkness hid most of my undignified cloths lining the all mighty thud was not drowned by the chorus of “oh fuck” that is a South-Africans immediate reaction to any power cut.
I am not going back tonight and I am changing my eye color and growing facial hair in hopes that when I return I will not be recognized… mind you the operation pad lodged in my chest may belie my identity just a smidge.

Will is cooking tonight (they grow up so fast).
My bitching and moaning that he is as useful as a carpet weevil has finally made an impression on him… and he is making an effort to learn to cook.
The other day he made cottage pie using instructions I provided over MSN.
After this dish I have realized that it is not so much the skill that is lacking as is the theory and terminology.
Thunder stick: The stick like vibrator looking thing that says thunder stick on the side.
Electric mixer: the other mixer thing that looks like a power drill.
Note to self: find MSN that allows one to draw pictures for people.
I am of coarse exaggerating. It wasn’t that bad aside from the mash that was lumpy because the wrong apparatus was used, all that pissed me off was the fact that a double batch of mince was made instead of putting the freekin stuff in a dish proportional to the amount of food made.

Tonight is Curry night and I will be there to supervise and provide a never ending supply of insults.
Stiffla once made stew and tried to thicken the stuff using curry powder but instead of trying something different when it didn’t thicken he just kept adding more until the packet was empty and the curry would no longer dissolve.
We were left with a sticky mush mash that tasted like hot dust.

Anyway if I don’t post or comment tomorrow you’ll know I succumbed to Wills cooking

Shakira Belly Dancing

2008-01-31T22:22:00.001-08:00

I had planned a more serius post for today, but being Friday, I have decided to save the mellow drama for Monday.
Instead I would like to introduce you to one of my newest roll models.
Yes I do have those.

I have recently started bellydancing and it has become a slight obsession... my whole week builds up to Thursday night clases and I really work very hard at it and like a rugby player might aspire to play like Brian Habana I aspire to be as good a dancer as Shakira is.
However if you look at the video I found you will notice the job that awaites me.

By the way this is my first video and I am so proud of myself

Unintended Consequence

2008-01-28T21:59:00.000-08:00

South-African news yesterday reported that John Minto an Australian writer and active supporter of the South-African freedom movement, has refused to accept nomination for the Companion of the OR Thambo award (the award is the highest acclaim South-Africa can bestow on a foreigner).
In an open letter to the president he stated “When we protested and marched into police batons and barbed wire here in the struggle against apartheid, we were not fighting for a small black elite to become millionaires”

Yesterday our president got up and publicly stated that our current power crisis is the “unintended consequence of our growing economy”

While I don’t doubt for a moment that Minto will be tar and feathered for racism, I believe that his general idée and outlook on our countries state of government is right on the money.

Mbeki is wrong… the power crisis is not an unintended consequence of a growing economy but rather the consequence of government officials lining their pockets with tax payers money instead of pumping it into infrastructure that a growing economy needs.
The economy didn’t start growing two weeks ago Ladies and Gentlemen.

In conclusion I would like to say that after the fall of apartheid the poor are poorer and I seriously doubt that having the most democratic constitution in the world helps them sleep better.
The struggle is only over for the leaders of the freedom fight…
They have left those they claimed to be fighting for, at the mercy of their greed.
In the end democracy was a battle won while the war still rages.

Pigglet Me and Giffie

2008-01-27T22:43:00.001-08:00

Yesterday when we walked into the cinema to see saw4 we were convinced that nausea would be the worst part of our day… Not for a moment did Piglet and I think that we would be needing and overdose of Rescue and a stiff brandy to calm our nerves while Stiffla and Will pushed my car out of a ditch…
I shit you not people….
We had a bit of fumble when an Ass-hat skipped a stop street and came careering at my cars side.
Having to swerve into the next lane in the sight of oncoming traffic would not have been so much of an issue if I was driving a Scooby or an Evo… but as fate would have it I was driving my little Giffie a front wheel drive corsa lite with a stock suspension and the only modifications being the 15” rims we had fitted the day I got her (and make no mistake those rims were the difference between ending up on our roof and ending up on the wheels).
Our swerve brought us ass about face across the road drifted like a pro and then did a side wheels only barrel into a deep muddy ditch on the side of the road while I try fight the urge to put foot flat on the brakes.
We came to a stop thanks to the mud, once I had pried my arm off of Piglets chest where I pinned her when the shit struck I got out and started swearing at said ass-hat in long alliterated stanzas… I swore at everything while little pigs sat breathing deeply, eyes wide as saucers she kept saying “its okay Lee, Its okay”
I said not it wasn’t and kept swearing…. Later I was told that people understand because that’s how I deal with things….
Pigglet only started crying when Stiffla and Will found us about 5 min later.
I didn’t stop swearing until the stiff brandy put me to sleep.

So people that was my and Pigglets very near brush with death… I am refraining from sharing with you what I wish upon ass-hat and his silver Polo who by the way did not as much as break to check if we were alright because I may get arrested…

Eviction Notice

2008-01-24T22:03:00.000-08:00

Dear Back-fat, Bum-flab, Love-handles and Thunder-thighs

Prepare to meat your end….
You are little less than anatomy squatters and I have come to realize that cellulite breeds like rabbits, No longer however will I tolerate your globules presence whether it be bubbling over the waist of my jeans, wobbling on my thighs, bouncing on my bum or crawling on my back.
Back-fat know that your demise is in the gravitational pull of free weights….
Bum-flab and love handles…you will die dizzy …. The twirly-wirly nature or belly dancing will wiggle you to death rest in peace.
Thunder-thighs your death will be very run of the mill… tread mill that is….

So be gone foul creatures your time here is done…. Vacate your place of squatting to make place for a whole new development of sexy

You have been warned

I hope you are well
Kind regards
Lee

MY HEAD

2008-01-23T00:43:00.001-08:00

I’m all a muddle
I can barely think
Creaking wooden floors
In a house in my head
A fire burns
By a window a twisted fig

All a mess
My heads in a spin
Me a mommy?
Baby on the lap
By my fire place a-rocking
Rap-a-tap-tap
Still the career
At the door a-knocking

Misty muddled mess
A druid and a witch
Play cards with the goddess Bess
Plato’s wearing a wedding gown
And Minerva sits on books

What a clutter
What a mess
Make it stop
For the sake of Pete
The space grows les and less

What a muddle
What a mess

The church of blogging

2008-01-21T22:35:00.000-08:00

After having chased Wills birthday present around Joburg all morning having had nothing but the bitter end of the month salty crack to sustain my energies I decided that it was high time that I blog something new…
The fact that I have nothing to say is irrelevant … blogging is like going to church in that way… it doesn’t really matter if you pay attention as long as you make an effort.
I had considered telling you about the abso-bluddy-brilliant night I had last night but I fear that divulging the details may make Will a little more disagreeable than he usually is and I desperately need a gym buddy to keep me going this afternoon.
I could also tell you about the 5 kitty-rats that have been a squeaky addition to our household but since their mother has decided to carry them into my bed the moment I lift the covers for a good night rest, deprivation of sleep may cause me to say things that the little creatures do not deserve…
Does anyone want a kitty-rat by the way… they will be ready for distribution in less than 5 weeks… because you’re my friends and I love you so much I will give these one of kind specimens to at this special once off price of… wait for it….NOTHING….yes you heard me R0 Ziltch Natta… batteries sold separately shipping and packaging not included.
Come on guys only two or tree of them don’t have owners yet….

Anyway before I start rambling on about bugger al I will leave you… I am sure I will be in a better mood once my paycheck arrives.
I am getting very annoyed with ATM’s at the moment… they all laugh at me and tel me to phone a friend…

I think I am gonna elope

2008-01-17T05:24:00.000-08:00

I am gonna hurl I tell you… Hurl…
If I have to look at another wedding dress or flower arrangement I am gonna deposit my lunch right onto my keyboard.
I hate it…
I hate all of it…
The dresses the flowers the table cloths the everything….
I hate that it costs so much money…
I hate that my mom would rather spend money on a wedding so that people can gawk at me and stiff than give us what we really want (an over seas honey moon)
I hate that I am going to have to behave myself
I hate that I have to plan the fucking thing
I hate that I am not sure that I hate all of this
I hate thinking about it and all the ins and outs
I hate that the bride’s maids don’t want to wear what I put them in
Why the fuck can’t I have bridesmen…?
I hate that we can’t choose a damn best man
I hate that I can’t make up my mind about stuff
And I hate that I am probably gonna have my mind made up for me
I hate all of it… weddings are a waste of money and a silly fucking tradition
Most of all I hate that tomorrow I am gonna want the wedding again and then the day after that I will be swearing again…
Stiffla and I are two of the most care free people you will ever meat.. we are a match made in heaven… you’ll be convinced when you meat us that we couldn’t possibly be happier with anybody ells… we are two broken molds and that makes us perfect.
This wedding thing however is giving us both sleepless nights and I am here to tell you that if I pitch up one day and tell you I got married last night in some court don’t be surprised because I cant take this wedding crap anymore

Britney auto biography

2008-01-16T05:35:00.000-08:00

Don’t get me wrong… I am not a follower but lately Britney shameless is getting more media attention than Kenya.
Every morning radio show adds some Britney blasphemy and one cannot be blamed for getting caught up in all of this.
She was the founder of the pink revolution and I recall people commenting on what a great roll model the little blond was for the youth….
Truly she was.
Clean cut and virginal…. Very virginal… flaunting it at every corner.
I am guessing that the years of sexual suppression finally dealt the final blow.

The bright side is that I cant wait for the auto biography…. I would love to know what makes people dive so deep into the darkness of self pity and narcissism

Weekend

2008-01-14T02:37:00.001-08:00

Well it’s 14days into January and I am still keeping to my new years resolutions… the gyming is going very well and after reading the gluggsters blog I have drastically increased my water intake.
Its not all bad as I get extra exercise running to the bathroom and back.
I have also had a look at some really nice tattoos for when I reach my goal and I have found some that I really like.
I am thinking of putting it on my thigh…
Saturday was a great day it saw the return of a prodigal friend that I have mentioned before and since she doesn’t have a boyfriend I think shell hang around for a while until she finds another guy…
This was not the only new addition to the house though…
Early on Saturday morning the queen who is yet to be named started showing signs of labor. Stiffla and I took precautions and by midnight my cat had given birth to 5 teeeny tiny squeaking little bundles.
There are three that look like jabba and two that look like their mommy but all of them look like rats at the moment and I will only take pics for you when they become cute
The new babies share their birthday with Wills girlfriend by the way ….

Hey hey
Wait for it

Peace out peeps

That was your Monday anti climax

Rant, Vent, Shit Chukking, Bitching match

2008-01-10T05:57:00.000-08:00

What complex creatures we are!
It has been said that one can choose ones friends but one cant choose your family… I have recently realized that if this were not true and we were able to choose our family you probably wouldn’t choose those you have.
I am sure you love all of them and again I am walking the line here but I am pissed of and disappointed beyond believe at the moment and if I cant regurgitate my irrational ranting on my blog then where ells.

Recent events in my life saw me taking a long hard look at someone.
Someone that I not only liked but loved…not based on their personality or good heart but rather because of their roll in my life.
This roll ensured that they had a spot up on my pedestal, and when she finally did something that I didn’t expect ,and mind you didn’t see coming, I realized that what I expected off her was also based on my abstract connection to her.
If my logic and not my family ties had been painting the picture I would have seen it coming before she did…
The epitome of the female stereotype; if I had been honest I would have seen that she is the embodiment of what I dislike about woman.
More concerned with a pretty face than a strong mind…
I looked at other woman in my life and found weakness…..
Contently submitting themselves to a life of slavery under a man’s rule…
Did I not teach you to stand up for yourself…. Do you not know that beauty fades but that wisdom will always be a reliable asset.
Why are we still producing woman like this… woman who’s ambitious aspirations are running for president of planet LOOK-AT-ME-LOOK-AT-ME.
Woman need to realize that it is this kind of shallow attitude that wrote history the way it was written.
Do you honestly think that men dominate the world because they are smarter or better equipped for the job…..?
No they are dominant because a woman will submit to a man’s flattery and lip service. Because we prefer being adored over being respected.
Screw burning the bra, burn the lip-gloss.
Teach your daughters that being pretty will get her the receptionist job and the captain of the rugby team (who will later turn out to be a bitch to his cell buddy) but that intelligence, a general knowledge, ambition and eloquence will get her the MD position and the man that matches her social, moral and financial position.
You are as intelligent and resourceful as any man that walked YOUR planet and can sport intuition and maternal instincts as added benefits in your arsenal.

Burn the bluddy lip gloss and teach them to read for sucks fakes.

Please note that I intend to regert any refrances I made to illustarte my point. But hey wats a good bitching match without regrets

Unfaithfull

2008-01-09T02:32:00.000-08:00

There are three unforgivable sins in a relationship
*Jealousy
*Unfaithfulness
*Violence
Now while two of the tree are set in stone I am having a problem defining cheating today.
having had a chat with two of my friends today and having been given two different opinions I would now like to know what your opinion is.

what constitutes cheating?
Where does it start ... with a kiss....penetration...or can cuddling and holding hands be put in the category....?
or does it start with simply the intention ....
online flirting is definitely cheating in my book because it is worse than physically doing the deed its cheating on an emotional level.
personally I think that if its bad enough to hide from your partner then its cheating.

what do you think
can holding hands and cuddling behind your partners back be cheating?
and am I over reacting for saying that if my guy were to cuddle up to some other chick and hold hands with her that I would be well and Good upset?

What I did this weekend

2008-01-07T21:41:00.000-08:00

I know that its Tuesday and what I did on the weekend is irrelavant, but I was only able to read blogs yesterday.
You will also notice all my new side bar toys.
Blogger has allowed me to post more page elements so I am putting as many as possible up before blogger changes its mind.
Tell me if my blog is taking to long to load now please

I look like da honey from NFS

2008-01-04T03:27:00.000-08:00

I know that this is not the first time blog land will see this but I still think its cool
the sight is calle myheritage.com
you upload a pic of yourself and they give you a collage or morph what celeb you look like

I did one of my Kid sister.
she looks like Evangely from Lost so now I have to like her

When I just met Stiffla he had a serious hard on for the hunny on Need for speed undergrownd... Josie Marron. gues what.....

I would like to see what your pics come up with

2008 is gonna be great (a positive post for a change)

2008-01-03T01:07:00.000-08:00

This year I resolve to:
1) Get rid of my “Post pregnancy Britney Spears” love handles, fit back into a size 8 jean and go back to looking more like Jessica Alba and less like Rosie O’Donnell.
2) Buying an amp and getting started on my sound install in my car.
3) Elevate my standing in the corporate ladder considerably.
4) Pay of my accounts and most of my debt
5) Finish the houses interior walling
Stop gawking at me… I am well aware that in the past I have been no great fan of New Year’s resolutions but this year is different.
Yes different….
A year that starts with Stiffla wearing a bra and Durka-Durka stealthlesly walking into a pool in pink fairy wings is sure to be different.

I am back in blog land my friends, and would lie if I told you that I tried to make an effort at blogging while on leave because I didn’t.
Who would want to sit in front of a pc during the only few days of sunshine this wet summer has provided us with.
Instead I took advantage of every second of sunny fiesta by swimming tanning and playing games with the boys and our mates like ten year old kids.
That’s what the silly season is all about after all…regaining the youth that the mundane trudge of life sucks out of you.
The 500 games of volleyball and catch along with the festive buzz of Christmas and New Year really did that for us.

Christmas day started with the traditional opening of presents.
I had spent two salaries on gifts for everybody and it had been worth every penny of it especially since I got to read the book I got Will first ( Note its called Sniper One written by Sgt Dan Mills, It is one helluva awesome book. It’s a first hand account of conflict in Iraq and Mr. Mills has done a great job. No bells and wistels or fancy smancy writer’s tricks, just a sniper telling his story).
We always have a cold lunch so the cooking could be done the day before, but it was delish.
We had turkey, tongue, gammon and roast lamb with potato salad, noodle salad, Caesar salad, stuffed eggs, salmon mouse, crackers and home made mustard, followed by trifle for pudding.
It was marvelous and after wards we jumped in the pool and started acting like lunatics again.

Just after Christmas we spent some time with Rods who had come from Hong Kong for a visit.
Rods has been in Hong Kong for a while now teaching gymnastics to kids and this year he brought his girlfriend Florence and his sisters boyfriend Jules along.
For the occasion we all took a drive to Nkwe for a good South-African braai.
Nkwe is a great place a few Kays from us.
All it really is, is a grove with a cliff on one end that plummets into a natural rock pool underneath.
The cliff face is about 15m high and its great sport to jump of it into the water and see if you can survive.
Stiff did his usual crazy repetitive jumps while Will made it clear that grace and poise did not run in the family when he did a half broken arrow semi belly flop of the cliff.
After that he resigned himself to playing touch rugby with Jules.
Jules is Cantonese…hold on that’s not right…. Jules is Cantonese but he grew up in Australia, now living in Hong Kong and has a very American accent.
All this has a had a very crappy effect on the impressionable Will and he has been mimicking Jules ever since with a pitch that sounds like a transvestite duck he walks around saying “yeh that shit is fucking totally crazy man”.
We also took some great pics but after the drama last year I am going to have to go through them nicely before posting any of them up.

New years was a blast too.
We went down to Bronkhorst spruit dam and stayed in Durka-Durka’s uncles stunning house for the night.
We smoked a lot of Hubbly Bubbly and played a lot of kings.
Then some funny English kids crashed our party, we didn’t mind much, being the friendly folk we are, Unfortunately the English kids disappeared with a bottle of fish eagle that didn’t belong to them and we had no choice but to go and find the buggers.
We tracked across the front of the houses that lined the dam.
It was lost to us that Durka-Durka was doing the spy game thing with pink fairy wings strapped to his back and what the weird kids might think of his serious reprimand while latched to the pink feathers.
At some point we hit a dead end…Durka was searching for a way across the water when we realized that what looked like a tiled spot of floor was in fact a small pool with a tarp pulled over it.
Unfortunately Durka did not hear our conversation so he turned and walked straight onto tarp.
Everybody gasped and for a moment it actually seemed that he would walk straight over it, but it was only a fraction of a second and Durka sank like big bad of shit.
Gone was our stealthily approach and any hope for a surprise entry with it.
The big splash that Durka made was nothing compared to the peals of laughter that registered from our group as we bolted for the next jetty before the owner of the unfortunate puddle of water discovered a giggling fairy taking a swim on his tarp.
After that Piglet being of sound and sober mind had a fight with the stair case and emerged less than triumphant with a blue knee cap that forced her to hop about the entire place.
My two most horney friends came up with a solution and fought for the honor of carrying her around every where. Piglet is yet to recover from the culture shock.
The night ended as we watched almost every house and camp sight shoot of thousands of Rands worth of fire works over the dam.
It made for a good show as the fire works reflect on the water.
All in all it was a good break from reality.
And on new years day I did some tarot readings and was pleased to find that the future looked bling bright for both me and Will.
Don’t scoff it either my cards have never been wrong.

By the way Will has kept me up to date on some of your posts and I would just like to extend a big WHOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO to Glugs and Angel for finally getting it together.
Just so you know we all saw it coming!
Peace my people

a bit bussy

2007-12-19T21:36:00.001-08:00

I know I know...
I am MIA but with very good reason.
I have been helping out in the admin office as most of the staff have left for the holidays I have been having a whole helluve lot of fun because I am good at admin.
I have realised that the admin staff work a helluve lot harder than anybody els in this place...
so go give your admin staf a hug they work harder than youand get paid less

100 things you didn't need to know about me

2007-12-13T06:10:00.000-08:00

The fact that all my clients have gone on leave has left me board and with nobody to pester.
So instead of writing the book Will and I are working on I have decided to follow the crowd for the third time in my life and compile my very own 100 things about me list.

1) I was born at around twelve in the afternoon on the 14th of October 1985 at st Maries maternity hospital in Springs. Only a few hours after my cuz who was born in the same hospital causing a serious confusion concerning what Mrs. Parker was en labor when.
2) This is only the second point on this list and I am already starting to doubt how interesting I really am
3) I went to Northmead primary school where I was a popular as bread mold. I had three best friends, and I am still in contact with two of them but it is more than apparent that we have grown apart
4) I spent my High school years at Noorderlig where the fact that I don’t look like bread mold sourced more than my fair share of male attention and I was termed popular until I beat a grade 11 up in my grade 8 year and I developed a reputation. After that I did not lose the male vote but woman walked circles around me and still do
5) I like cars. No you don’t understand I love cars like people love their families. My car has a name and I cried the day I saw a Shelby GT500 in the metal. I shit you not. I also used to write for a car web sight and I have intended posting my articles up for ages but haven’t gotten around to it.
6) I sing all the damn time. Gremlin is as far as I know the only person who likes it. Christmas carols are my songs of choice and I have no qualms about singing them all year round. Grem said it made the house sound happy.
7) I had my first poem published at the age of 13
8) I lost my virginity at 14 to a virgin who was too old for me.
9) I can’t orgasm during sex. I don’t know why but I don’t really care either. The bright side is that I can fake it like no other woman. I have read that it is not an uncommon problem though
10) I think I am bi-sexual. I made out with two of my girlfriends (and went to third base with one of them) and actually enjoyed it. I like lesbian porn and am attracted to woman… but only uber uber hot woman.
11) I cant believe I actually shared that
12) I am getting married to DeWet Gerber (Stiffla) in December 2008. We went to the same high school but can’t remember one another. I also thought he was an idiot when I met him.
13) The first guy I ever kissed had bad breath. But I was so desperate to get kissed that I didn’t care.
14) I have had two vibrators in my life. I didn’t buy either. The first was a skinny little pink thing. The guy who bought it was afraid that I may prefer the vibrator to him. The other is a very well publicized see-through, thick, glittery, wrinkly thing that Grem gave me for my 21st birthday it really is very funny and I have pictures of all my guy friends playing with it.
15) Will isn’t my real brother, He is Stiffla’s youngest brother but if I did have a brother I would like him to be like Will only less obnoxious.
16) I have a sister, a younger sister who is my complete opposite, she’s tall I’m short, she runs from libraries screaming with fear, I spend whole days there, she likes pink I hate it, she likes her boyfriend I hate him, she likes sport I find excuses.
17) My Dad was my hero and still is even after his passing when I was 16. he was a teacher and without a doubt the most intelligent and fun person I have ever had the pleasure of knowing
18) It was only after he died that my mother and I were forced to like one another. My mom and dad never had a fight in their whole marriage. Sure they got annoyed but were always able to talk about it. This was mainly due to the fact that my dad didn’t have a temper and couldn’t get angry no matter how hard you tried. An attribute that I unfortunately didn’t get.
19) I don’t like my step dad, and not because his my step dad but because as a person he pisses me off. I don’t have step kid syndrome and this has nothing to do with my dad.
20) I haven’t shaved my legs in a week
21) I am the only person of my generation, it seems, who doesn’t like transformers, kong pow and superman oh and spider man 3
22) I like to talk dirty and do it quite well if I do say so myself its sexy and I like it.
23) You can tell me I am ugly, you can tell me I’m fat (and Will quite frequently does) but insult my intelligence and you have one helluva a fight on your hands
24) I have the most annoying voice and laugh. I can break glass I swear .
25) Speaking of swearing….I do that a lot… really a lot. I swear like a sailor but cannot say that hideous Afrikaans word that starts with a P
26) I love to read
27) I love Lost so much, it’s unhealthy. I have all the available seasons on DVD and it’s an addiction that has given me serious crush on Sawyer
28) I also love ALO-ALO “liston vergy carfully I will say dis only once”
29) Apparently I flirt with all men. APPARENTLY. I always thought that I was just friendly
30) I am wider than I should be and yet I am still a bomb shell and I am not blushing while admitting this even though god knows that I would love to lose those extra cm
31) I am an atheist. Not because I want to be but because my avid interest in history has led me to it. And I cant believe in stuff just cos it feels good
32) I know all the words to my fair lady (songs included) and I can also recite without any help the whole fast and the furious and quite frequently do
33) I am a killer dancer and again I am not shy to admit it even with no formal training I rule and I have no inhibitions so I dance on stages at clubs
34) This is point 34
35) If I were a real live lesbian (and this I got from pink stuffing) I would date Jessica Alba screw Lindsay Lohan and crush on Keira knightly and Nataly Portman
36) If I won the lotto tomorrow I would buy a Bugatti Veyron
37) I don’t blog to get stuff of my chest, I blog to get comments and it pisses me off when I don’t get them. I am one of those people who think that my opinions need to be heard and I need confirmation that they were heard. Oh and I love you guys
38) I am terribly materialistic. I will not date or even consider a guy with a lower income or worse car than I have. I equate money with success and success with ambition. I need a man to have ambition I never want to hear “I cant” or “its not my fault” because I will attack your lazy ass personality in ways you haven’t dreamed of.
39) If you ask me how you look or what I think, you should be ready for an honest opinion if you want to be complimented and nurtured I suggest you fuck off.
40) When I was a teen I had bulimia for a very long time. Now I wish I had the body that was not good enough then, strange how things work
41) This is the second time I have been engaged, I got engaged to one of the most well meaning genuine people I know and three weeks after that we got into a car accident and he died. I was fucked up about it for way to long.
42) I broke my collar bone in said accident witch was small price to pay since I was the only person who walked out of there alive
43) I have moved passed my grief and while I love Johan and always will I know that he was holding me back and that if I had married him I would have been a house wife who never reaches her full potential.
44) I tried to commit suicide after the accident but my mom was smart enough to substitute the sleeping pills the hospital gave me with some herbal calming tablet. I slept well and was in happy mode for three days but my mom really did save my life.
45) I am different now. Build a bridge and get over it. That’s my motto. I wont be gotten down by anything. I work hard for everything I have and I expect no less than perfection from myself and no that doesn’t make anything worse it makes me successful
46) I have wanted to be s chef , a teacher, a lawyer and a historian in my life and if it wasn’t for my mild dislike of snotty kids I still think I would be great at all of them
47) I am not a chef, a teacher, a lawyer or a historian, I facilitate financing. How’s that for life’s curve balls
48) I have never done any sport because I wanted to. I didn’t play netball at school because I cant stand large amounts of woman all together and I only did track because it came with an off period.
49) The biggest mistakes I have ever made have names. Raymond, Donovan and Vee (granted if it wasn’t for Vee I would never have met Stiffla so he is only half mistake half dumb luck)
50) I am only half way and this thing is already 3 pages long
51) If I could get on a plane and go anywhere in the world right now it would be Egypt I am completely completely fascinated by the place and its history
52) I get broody around Christmas.
53) My favorite book is River God by Wilbur Smith and I have read it probably three times
54) I don’t like chocolate and sweet stuff but I can floor a box of salty crax like its nobodies business
55) I am very bad at girly things. This I suppose is due to the fact that my mom and I didn’t get along when I was a kid so I had nobody to teach me I also had no girlfriends to speak of. I cant do makeup well or my nails and hair and I feel so bad when I have to spend money on stuff like that. It’s a waste as far as I am concerned
56) Contrary to what I have just said I do so love shoes, stilettos grrrrrrr and cloths particularly business suits with a good cut.
57) I only started drinking at 20 years of age and it was tragic
58) I cry in movies a lot. I ball my eyes out and Will and Stiffla sit and laugh at me
59) I am the worst shopper in the world. I even annoy myself. A great follower of the 3 P rule (Pick it up, Put it down and Piss off) it can take me three days to make a single purchase. I shit you not
60) I am stingy as hell and that doesn’t help
61) I have really ugly toes
62) I cant stand going to the hair dresser because I don’t like talking to the hairdresser and I hate it even more if the woman tries to make small talk because it always end in this uncomfortable silence.
63) I don’t make friends with people at work. I find that it always tend to end badly or at best you are always associated with your friends bad work ethic
64) Not having friends at work allows me to play fair at work so I am not bias towards anybody
65) I have recently learnt that I am not bad shot. When Stiff first brought the pellet guns home I freaked at the price the damn things cost now I love to play with them more than he does
66) I only eat once a day and have been told its bad for me (I am so running out of stuff )
67) A Russian woman once told me I look like Bridgett Bardot other than that I have never been compared to any famous person.
68) I had honey blond hair down to my bum when I was a kid
69) I am semi goth semi “mean girls” inclined in my fashion sense
70) Vis-à-vis I have bad fashion sense
71) Pizza and cheese curls are my favorite foods
72) My favorite band is system of the down at the moment
73) I am completely emotionally screwed the only emotion that I can talk about is anger
74) I pick my nose when I am board
75) When I get angry I cry. And I hate it. How are you supposed to have a decent fight when your all teary eyed
76) Stiff and I have never had a fight and it will break my heart when we finally do
77) I am hysterically afraid of needles. So much so that my doctor used to make sure there were nurses to hold me down if he dared attempt it
78) I don’t like doctors either, not because I am afraid of them but because going to the doctor means I am admitting that I cant sort it out on my own and I usually can
79) I never fold cloths in my closet usually I take three steps back and fling them in. I cant find a damn thing when my cloths are folded
80) I hate being alone, even for small amounts of time. I depress myself when I am left alone with my thoughts and usually end up crying. If the boys are not there on Saturdays I go visit my mom or get in bed with Wills girlfriend and talk crap all morning.
81) I hate sleeping in too late it ruins my day and I hate the boys sleeping in late too its slothly and more importantly it leaves me alone
82) I don’t have a favorite color, I like black and purple and blue and red most but all colors are nice in the right setting
83) I live in a two bedroom wooden cottage on my moms plot. We have three houses on the property. Since it is such a big piece of land it makes it safer if you have more people on the plot
84) The friends I have now went to school with me and Stiff and we still see them every single Saturday night. We don’t even have to invite them they just pitch up
85) I get very nervous when I get lost and I get lost often.
86) I am a cat person but I still like dogs. I am not really a big animal person like some are who can cuddle and play with their animals. I like my cats, they need a lap to sit on or a leg to rub up against and their happy
87) I don’t like diamonds, my engagement ring has a massive sapphire because I find diamonds boring
88) I like match making and I am responsible for hooking Will up with Laura but so far that is my only success story
89) I am addicted to the internet and of coarse to my blog my e-mails can wait, I read my blog comments first
90) I am not allergic to anything and have spent minimal time in hospital in my life. I don’t eat very well but I am still not a sickly person
91) I studied towards a degree in psychology for a year and then left it then I studied towards a teaching degree for a year before that ambition met the same end I am not good at studying but I love learning and absorb any info I find interesting like a sponge
92) When I have found something out or learnt something new I can’t wait to get home and tell the boys. I like sharing stuff and info does not satisfy me until I have told someone
93) We have recently started gyming, Will and I, and I amazed myself by actually enjoying it
94) Music is my biggest memory trigger. All the songs on the CCR platinum album reminds me of cooking with dad in the summer. Rooi rok bokkie will always remind me of Johan and the hypnotize mesmerize from system reminds me of when Stiff and I just hooked up
95) I have long talon nails (my own Ill have you know) that never look neat because I chew the nail polish off
96) I pronounce my name Lee-Ann when I introduce myself because people cant pronounce Leanne and I don’t have the patience to try and correct them for half an hour
97) I like to do business in English but I like to swear in Afrikaans.
98) I am almost finished
99) My best friend is Wills girlfriend and she is also my complete opposite, Pink and Ditsy where I am disturbed
100) It took me three days to do this list and it has made me suicidal… and if you have successfully read this you should be suicidal too.

Chimeras (Humanized Animals)

2007-12-11T23:12:00.000-08:00

Consider for a moment the hundreds of thousands of people in dire need of an organ transplant, or the multitudes of people who can’t recognize their families due to neural diseases.
And spare a thought for those whose bodies are being annihilated by cancer and who will surely spend their last moments on this planet in excruciating pain.
Now consider if it were your son who needed a liver transplant. Your Girlfriend dying of cancer or your mother whose mind leaves her a confused helpless mess.
What length would you go to, to save these people?
Would you accept a liver or kidney for transplant even if it had been grown inside a sheep?
Would you reject a cure for cancer because it was unethically developed….?
Would you?
I am guessing not!

Somewhere in Nevada a sheep was born whose heart and liver were largely human and in Minnisota there is a pig with human blood running in his veins and in California a lab mouse peers through his cage bars with a brain that is as much as 1% human.

These are not the creations of some sick horror movie mad scientist but rather a very complex Biological experiment that is helping scientist observe for the first time, how human cells react, not only with one another, but also with those of other animals.
They have been called Chimeras after a Greek mythological creature one that has parts of different creatures in one body.
By fusing Human cells with those of animals at different times in fetal development scientist have been able to create a pig with both human and pig blood cells and in a miraculous turn of events were able to observe how these cells merged to create a hybrid cells.
Realizing that pig viruses may be transmitted to humans, a sheep embryo was developed with a liver and heart that is as much as 80% human.
In theory these organs can be transplanted into the human body where our own immune system will reject the alien 20% and take root.

Testing of HIV drugs have also been simplified by a mouse that carries a complete human immune system and can be infected by the virus. Now drugs that may turn out to be toxic to humans can be tested on mice.

However while the US seems to have abandoned their plight with the UN to ban cloning completely, their attention has turned to chimeras and are campaigning for a ban on the creation of Chimeras.
However the wording of such a policy will have to be very very carefully thought out as the creation of chimeras is not as uncommon as one would think, as most twins carry a few cells from their sibling and of course mothers carry cells from their infant, not to mention the recipients of organ transplants or those whose defective heart valves have been replaced with those from pigs or cow’s.

Naturally the question of “How human is to human?” has been raised
And at what point have we raised an animals moral standing too much?
At what point should chimeras be allowed the same rights as a human being?

Scientist also say that there is a risk that the human cells in chimeras could spread to the testis and ovary’s. Producing human sperm and Human eggs..
If two such chimeras were to mate it would result in a human fetus whose parents are effectively a pair of mice or sheep or pigs.

The practice has been called unethical and scientists have been accused of ignoring the value of a human life.
Some quote the bible (like you didn’t see that coming).
However I question how questing to relieve mankind’s suffering can be called unethical.
I ask how the worlds leaders can declare war on aids and a fight against cancer but block science from exploring all avenues.
It is clear that the resources we have at our disposal are not heelding the needed results…
And wouldn’t it be grand if one person didn’t have to die to replace another’s heart.

I am not supporting a ban on this practice but rather a very strict oversight to ensure that the procedure is not in the interest of pure curiosity but rather in the interest of scientifically researching the benefits that such creations may hold for man kind.

Again I ask your opinion knowing that we may not all agree.

blogger bitching session

2007-12-11T02:05:00.000-08:00

Admittedly my dedication in bloging appears to be wavering , however my visits to the blog world have been no less regular but a whole lot more annoying.
Have you noticed that despite changing my header pic it is still a fraction of the size that it originally was.
I have seen this on Will and Sweet ass’s blog
Will has this strip of grey matter that resembles nothing human while sweet ass’s eye has been turned into the fold of skin under your butt cheek.
And I can’t add a new page element to my side bar and I am starting to lose my temper a commodity that I am running low on
grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Gareth And The Knotted Panty Brigade

2007-12-06T22:56:00.000-08:00

Apparently the whole South-Africa knew about since the words were spoken on Friday, I however only found out about it today, this might be because the comment went like water of a ducks back during my morning commute.
I remember thinking “that’s right your so right” but being me I had too much faith in the world and almost expected the same reaction from the rest of the world

“Blasphemy should not still be a crime in the 21st century”
This was Gareth Cliff, a radio DJ for 5Fm’s response to the “teacher-teddy” bear screw up in Sudan.
At the risk of sounding Like a God hater (AGAIN) I completely agreed with the man.
My reasons for agreeing may be widely removed from his reasons for making the statement but then again when the prudes got on their high horses started bitching about Gareths blasphemies I doubt whether they gave a damn about the context either.

It is at this point that I would like to Launch into one of my famous all mighty rants.

That is the problem with the world today…
These People were getting their panties in a knot about Principals while ignoring the fact that a woman may have been shot for something that, in my opinion, shouldn’t even register as a crime.
Unfortunately I doubt weather the knotted panty brigade bothered to petition for Gillian Gibon’s release!
Oh but hang on a minute a Lady by the name Of Gerda Marie Povey, appointing her self judge, jury and executioner took it upon herself to enlighten the world of Gareth’s crimes. She complained to Gareth in writing via e-mail knowing that the man would not stand down. Gareth replied to this e-mail stating his case.
I unfortunately I don’t have a copy or it would be up here for the world to see in Gareth’s defense.
Point is that Povey then started forwarding the e-mail to world and his brother, hoping that the other narrow minded indoctrinated idiots would rally behind her in her attempt to get Gareth sacked.
Povey failed miserably in her attempt as she was not even present during the tribunal that found Gareth innocent.
Apparently when one wants to play with the big dogs one should not piss like a puppy.

At the same time I do want to say that apart from Povey and her fellow mothergrundies Gareth did get an overwhelming amount of support showing that there is an intelligent open minded community out there who are not afraid to make their voices heard.

By the way I have read that Gareth will be launching a web site soon where he will be able to write opinion pieces without the fear of persecution.
As soon as the sight is up I will post up the link as I am sure it will become one of my regular reads

the star that shines in controvercy

2007-12-05T02:21:00.000-08:00

I realized today that I am not displaying a pentacle on my blog.
I planned to rectify the problem and immediately started searching for an image that would suit my blog, it dawned on me then that by adding the controversial little trinket to my side bar I would be inviting more than my fair share of hate speech, and negative energy to my home on blog lane and I would thus like to take this opportunity to not only defend myself but also give those who are less enlightened about the subject a little history/ symbology lesson on this very harmless symbol.

From bitter experience I have learnt that the Christians will be the first to attack me for my “blasphemies” so I am going to address this group first.

No doubt you believe it is a symbol of pure evil, used to denote those who dabble in the dark arts.
While this is a complete misinterpretation one can not blame conservative church goers for the misunderstanding considering the history the church has had with this symbol.

In medieval times the pentacle was actually a Christian symbol, with the five points of the star representing the five wounds of Christ and the five joys that Mary had of Jesus (the annunciation, the Nativity, the resurrection, the ascension and the assumption).
It also served as a protective talisman that (ironically) was believed to ward of witches.

The pentacle also featured in the 14th century poem “Sir Gwaine and the green knight”..
Representing the five virtues of knighthood (noble generosity, fellowship, purity, courtesy, and compassion.) the pentacle was emblazed on sir Gwaine’s shield as a remainder of the virtues nature sir Gwaine strived to embody.

However some time in the twentieth century the church rejected the symbol as it had increasingly become associated with a rebellious group set on rejecting the teachings of the church.
Used as a sign of rebellion or religious identification for these so called Satanists the star was turned upside down, with three points pointing downwards the group made their rejection of the holy trinity clear to the outside world.
Usually inscribed within a double circle the star was named the sigil of Baphomet and became the official insignia for the church of Satan.

Having said this I do concede that the Pentacle in some form does have some satanistic connotations (even though it is a direct result of its Christian connection), but I would also like to point out that the pentacle is one of the oldest symbols in history and it’s first known uses date back to 3000BC since then it has enjoyed attention in so many teachings, religions and cults that it would be short sighted to limit this piece to a never ending battle between the Church and those who had fallen from its grace.

The Neo-Pagan Pentacle

In modern society the pentacle seems to be coming out of the closet again and it is not uncommon to see people donning pentacle jewelry or clothing.
Personally I believe that the increasing popularity of esoteric believe systems such as Wicca and neo-Paganism has greatly contributed to the positive PR drive around this ancient symbol.
As a crucifix might identify a Christian so a pentacle may identify a wiccan a witch or a pagan and a as a religious symbol it is no les meaningful than its Christian peer.

To completely understand the very loaded meaning of the pagan pentacle one needs to understand a bit about the believes that govern it first and while I fully intend to get into that at a later stage I fear that my genesis of witchcraft my be too much to digest at this point in time

What I am going to say though is that the four bottom points of the star represent the elements Earth, Wind (or air), fire and water, elements that were first linked to the star by the Pythagoreans who considered the pentacle a mathematical perfection.
The top most point represents Spirit and many believe that spirit will rule over all other elements… however since this is a religion that promotes freedom of expression the symbol is open for personal interpretation.
The pagan pentacle is inscribed by a single circle that represents the circle of life (birth death and rebirth).
This symbol is used in ritual magic and during the invocation of the elements.
It is not however meant as symbol of evil at all!

Other meanings have come from all corners of the world and its connection with the planet Venus is one of the most widely known.
However the reason for the parallel being drawn between the planet and the five pointed star is not a common fact and it might interest you to know that the planet Venus traces an imperfect pentacle across the heavens every eight years.
Wether the ancients were aware of this or not, I don’t know but it would be my number one theory on the true origins of the pentacle.

********************************

Please note that intend to elaborate on this subject in the coming weeks giving specific attention to the influence that the pentacle has had on our history.

In closing I would like to say that I strongly believe that the pentacle is a symbol of human nature.
Over hundreds of years good people have taken this symbol and have praised it for its embodiment of purity and wholeness, but at the same time those with less wholesome intentions have stripped it of all its virtues just to dress it up as the symbol of darkness.

A symbol does not have intent so it cannot harm nor does it have choice so it cannot decide between good and evil.
It will only mirror the intent and choice of those who choose to interpret it

I only find it disturbing that the naïve are always inclined towards a negative interpretation

2007-12-04T05:42:00.001-08:00

happy Tuesday

2007-12-03T21:53:00.000-08:00

Good morning Blog land.
I hope all of you have slept well and that Tuesday has brought relieve from the weekend hangovers and bad moods that are own to Mondays
Yes Bunnies I am in a good mood.

Hey you close your mouth, gawking is not attractive at all!

Once all of you have recovered from the shock allow me to explain the cause of this merriment.

The first reason must be the dawn of December.
There is no better month in the year… I absolutely looooove all the Christmas carols and lights and happy people.
The schools have started breaking up for the summer holiday and I love watching the kids on the street in their preppy cloths thinking they are the bees knees… or watching the girls in the malls stifle the giggles that threaten to escape their oh so mature lipstick covered lips and they sit in coffee shops trying to look 5 years older.
The fact that I am in my jeans and sneakers giggling my head of to my equally idiotic counterparts trying to look 5 years younger just amplifies how fabulously complex life really is.
While we are on the subject of Christmas and all that grand shinny stuff… I would like to recommend a few things to you guys…

We can call it Lees favorites things… only I am not giving anything away…
1) The Celtic woman Christmas carol CD. This is stunning it will make anybodies heart melt. These Irish lasses can sing like a son of a bitch and they are only overshadowed by the stunning fiddle and bad pipes
2) Chocolate Christmas tree decorations and advent calendars.
Especially if you have kids.
My mom quilted and advent calendar for us one year and everyday we got a different little gift in the run up to Christmas.

On the other hand my good mood may be because we finally started gyming yesterday.
We were measured on Friday and I was told that I was wearing a 100com ass on a 1.61m frame.
I ask you.
So yesterday we broke a sweat and contrary to ,y expectations I actually enjoyed it… no really I did.
The down side is that I pushed by broken shoulder a bit to far and now my left arm is useless.
But hey if I don’t keep up with Will he wont let me forget it.

Oh and other good news is that that English teacher who named her class teddy Mohammed has been pardoned and is back in England this morning.
She was initially Sentenced to 40 public lashings but after a lot of here-and- there
Got her reprieve despite public petitioning for her execution.
THIS IS WHY I DISLIKE ORGANISED RELIGION!

PROZAC needed

2007-11-30T04:15:00.000-08:00

My last two post have put me in mortal danger of sounding like a girly-girl, I don’t know what came over me.
I mean actually posting up pictures of wedding dresses!!!! What is wrong with me?
Since I never delete post no matter how much I regret making them I am gonna try and divert your attention away from the blasphemy that I was momentarily driven too by an overdose of bridal web sites and lack of beer.
If you are into the girly kina thing I suggest you point your browser in the direction of Sam’s blog.
Yes it seams that that saucy little blond is back from the wasteland of facebook and is promising to stick around in blog land for a while.
I have reactivated her link and will keep it open for as long as she keeps on blogging.
This reminds me that Dan-O is also back from and elective exile doing god only knows what in god only knows where so you should saunter over to his place and add your comment to his already exhausting readers list.

Life in our little log cabin has been uncharacteristically quite and I think the silence is getting to my cats.
Yesterday I found Jabba trying to slit his wrists on a tuna tin.
I am a big enough person (Shut up Will) to shoulder most of the blame on this one as my attempts at anger management have resulted in a serious decline in swearing and high pitched opinionated monologs,
I believe that this also made me a more agreeable person as Will has been nice to me on two occasions this week, however since he put his hunny “Piglet” on a plane to Cape town for her Matriek holiday I am not worrying to much as the absence of the little pink blond will have him back to his tyrannically terrible mood in no time.

Stiffla has limited his living space to the one meter of carpet in front of his PC. I believe this is one of the side effects to “call of duty, modern war fare”.
The man has only left his post to eat, crap and pester me.
Admittedly I have been a bit of a slave to a PC recently too.
The book that Will and I are working on had its second installment posted on his blog this week, after which I decided that it was substandard and needed a desperate attitude adjustment.
I now feel like I have a laptop growing out of my thighs but I am almost done turning the one page installment into almost three pages.
Once this is done Will is gonna proof and approve before we put it up where I hope you guys will be able to help me with the magical fight that is giving me nightmares.

While searching for illustrations to inspire our characters I have also realized that I am slowly but surely leaving my goth art stage and entering a phase in my blogging that will be heavily colored by anime.
If you don’t like it build a bridge.

(notice the erratic train of thought as I skip to another subject)

People are like snotty noses… just when you think their gone for good they come back.
I have a friend like that.
We are girlfriends in the very true sense of the word.
Yes we grew up together and yes we hated one another most of the time, we stole each others boyfriends and made one another’s lives terrible.
She was there when my dad died despite the fact that we hadn’t spoken in over a year and she came back when my fiancé died.
We got drunk together, and danced on stages in skanky clubs for the hell of it, we got drunk together and made out and then we had a fight and then we made up.
She’s tones of fun and she’s a stunning looking woman and the fact it over shadowed by our immortal jealousy of one another.

But things have changed a little … she’s not fun anymore… in fact she’s a bit self conscious and a bit La-de-da.
I know this and I have told myself that we have grown past each other and I should just leave it.
But I can’t. that dreamy bit of me that reacts to smells and dejavu (shit how do you spell that) misses her terribly.
And sometimes that bit overrides the logical side that knows that those days are dead.
Why is that do you think.
Why do we always forget the bad so quickly and run back into our old mistakes with childlike hope and optimism.

Oh look at that I sound like a princess again
I may as well give up now, make my blog pink and build a shrine, to the power puff girls

wedding dresses

2007-11-30T00:01:00.000-08:00

Since its Friday I am gonna spare you and strenuous neural activity that might be needed to decipher my normal blog content and instead I am juts gonna ask you which one you like more.
I will excuse all the guys if they don’t participate

I have been running through a few sights and I have found a selection of gowns that I love and I would like you guys to help me make up my mind

Dress one
This is my moms favorite and I am so into the red .

Dress two
This one is Stiffla’s favourite. and yes I am letting him see the dress

Dress Three
And this is one of my favorites I like all of them this is just the only one I found on my own

Now bunnies tel me what you like more.

Love

2007-11-28T05:41:00.000-08:00

I rarely diviat from my very strickt no mushy post rule but when I got this e-mail I could not help myself.
I had been going through some wedding drss pictures telling myself how lucky I am that it really doesnt matter what dress I pick cos Stiffla will have that goofy "your perdy" look on his face anyway.
Then the cyber Gods sent me this
What Love means to a 4-8 year old . . .
Slow down for three minutes to read this. It is so worth it. Touching words from the mouth of babies.

A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8 year-olds, "What does love mean?"

The answers they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined. See what you think:

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"When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint her toenails anymore.
So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands got arthritis too. That's love."

Rebecca- age 8

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"When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different.
You just know that your name is safe in their mouth."

Billy - age 4

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"Love is when a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other."

Karl - age 5

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"Love is when you go out to eat and give somebody most of your French fries without making them give you any of theirs."

Chrissy - age 6

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"Love is what makes you smile when you're tired."

Terri - age 4

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"Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK."

Danny - age 7

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"Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more.
My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss"

Emily - age 8

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"Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen."

Bobby - age 7 (Wow!)

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"If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend who you hate,"

Nikka - age 6
(we need a few million more Nikka's on this planet)

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"Love is when you tell a guy you like his shirt, then he wears it everyday."

Noelle - age 7

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"Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well."

Tommy - age 6

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"During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling.

He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore."

Cindy - age 8

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"My mommy loves me more than anybody
You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night."

Clare - age 6

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"Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken."

Elaine-age 5

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"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is handsomer than Robert Redford."

Chris - age 7

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"Love is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him alone all day."

Mary Ann - age 4

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"I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old clothes and has to go out and buy new ones."

Lauren - age 4

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"When you love somebody, your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you." (what an image)

Karen - age 7

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"Love is when Mommy sees Daddy on the toilet and she doesn't think it's gross."

Mark - age 6

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"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget."

Jessica - age 8

Murphy strikes again

2007-11-26T11:40:00.000-08:00

My life consists of feeding the 2 commando worms who share my pigsty… working my way up the corporate ladder (the rungs of which exceeds the time I have to waste on it) and the endless battle that I fight with a particularly malicious gentleman named Murphy.
I think that I may have dated Murphy in high school or otherwise wounded the man as he seems intent on ruining me but today the bastard went too damn far.

Christmas is a Big Thing in Nestpark.
No hang on it’s a HUGE thing in Nestpark particularly in the Parker and Wally Households.
My mother has a 2m high Christmas tree that matches the wreaths above the fire place, the tree is decorated on the same date every year and it still coincides with the day my dad’s leave used to start.
The cable light sleigh and reighndeer are prance between the blue gum trees on the bottom lawn and we have icicle lights wrapped around the Lapa.
Three days before Christmas the cooking starts and my mom and I smoke pork into gammon and beef into pastrami.
The day before Christmas the salmon mouse is made and old Christmas eve we tan a piece of meat on the braai fire while mom and I drink enough sherry to deprive the tryval of its finger biscuits.
We still sit on the floor on Christmas morning like kids and that is the way it will stay.
My whole year builds up to this and I have found myself reaching for the Christmas decorations since the beginning of November and now the time is so close that I can smell the pickling mix and home made mustard.

However I think that Murphy may be in cahoots with the Grinch and is pushing his agenda on my “Ho Ho and a merry Christmas to you too” self.

Driving along this bright Monday morning after a good weekend of shopping, four hours of target practice in the back yard, one braai, three hotdogs, one helluva good party and a good Sunday afternoon sleep; I was reflecting on how good life was.
“Your finally getting there hunny” I told myself as I reflected on what I have achieved this year and what I plan to achieve before the year ends.
Then it happened. A bang.
When my eyes flew up to my rear-view to identify my target I saw a large piece of sheet metal fly out the back of my car.
It hit the windscreen of the Lumina behind me before the rear of my car glided out in the wrong direction.
I recovered it and limped my little baby to the nearest petrol station.
It had cut right through my tyre… Right through.
I changed the tyre in my good cloths and did further damage to my ego as I drove of on three 15” mags and one 13” rim.
It cost me almost R500 to replace, an amount that I had intended spend on a fibre optic Christmas tree and a role of rope lights that could cross the Atlantic.
Now, since my last Christmas tree was misplaced in our move, I have to settle for a tree with an anti consumerism opinion.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
I have decided that I am looking on the bright side of things and intend deriving my Christmas jollies from converting will from the computer addicted imagination deprived screwge he is to Santa’s biggest cheerleader”
What fun it will be.

Peace out Peeps

Blank space

2007-11-22T22:51:00.000-08:00

I am sure that it has not escaped your attention that I have had some trouble composing anything that even remotely resembles a good blog.
I suppose the fact that it takes half the day to comment on all my regular reads contributes to my lack of creativity… not that I don’t enjoy this little ritual… oh no quite to the contrary… the problem is the fact that after reading every bodies blogs I waiver in my trust in my own writing skills.
When I get home I also spend a good amount of time writing the novel that Will and I are slowly but surely coloring in.
I say this because the entire book has been written and it’s about 5 pages long and we are now adding all the good language, complex metaphors and emotional illustrations that will turn the 5 pages into a book.

I also intend to make a concerted effort to read more as I am slowly but surely realizing that Stiffla and Will are developing a new habit that will surely be the downfall of my over inflated ego.
God only knows what prompts them but lately these two have presented me with some strange questions.
Ranging form Saran gas to the complexities of Roman History (and Will knows full well that he knows more about Rome than I do so he really is just trying to piss me off) they look at me with this complete trust and when I finally swallow down the bile that is accompanied by having to say “I don’t know” they have a damn good giggle and make another note on the “things Lee doesn’t know List”.
Either I am the epitome of obnoxious or these two are just little daemons.
I am quite sure it’s the latter but I still intend on formulating a counter attack that will see me emerge the victor and let me maintain my title of household know it all and hanus Bitch.

Speaking of Bitch.
I have just rented a leash and a Muzzle from the animal welfare society .
I am taking Stiffla cloths shopping this weekend and I have decided that I should come prepared for whatever the little bugger chucks at me.
In Stiff’s defense I am forced to point out that my obsession with finding the best possible selection at the lowest possible price has turned me into the worst shopper to ever set foot in the realm of Malldom.
However If I left my techno obsessed better half to complete the strenuous task of clothing shopping on his own he would most likely return with a pair of sox a full tummy and ten DVD’s forcing me to spend another 4 months bitching that I can see through his nice shirts.
I did offer to do the shopping on my own but I think my man doubts my taste a little bit and the fact that cloths don’t come in “skinny little bastard” size also doesn’t help the situation.
I think that we have reached a compromise.
I am to bargain hunt at my favorite stores after work today and make my selection (a trip I intent forcing Will to attend)
And tomorrow I will Drag stiff Kicking and screaming into the change rooms to fit the cloths and then pay.

I am also hoping that the financial director decides to be a darling and pays me today
It is coming terribly close to Christmas which is the biggest day of the year and I will not be the only person across the row of three houses that make up our family to be without a Christmas tree and too much tinsel.

By the way it is not our tradition so this is why I may be getting the days wrong… But to all my American readers… I hope you hade a clucking good thanks giving

Peace out peeps

OMG I am shameless

2007-11-21T05:16:00.001-08:00

I think the thing that I love most about blogging is that there are no rules and thus no damn shame.
I just when along and nominated myself for a bloggers choice award and I voted for myself and guess what I don’t feel bad about it at all
In fact I feel rather good about it.

Another thing that I feel rather good about is the fact that while I was spending some time blog whoring I found out that Angel likes planning weddings and I also found a rather nice dress to add to my “that’s a nice idée” list in my wedding file.
I feel good about this because I am getting married at the end of next year and I am dreading the prospect of planning the damn thing.
Now I can lean on Angel for ideas.

I am also having a hard time with my fingers today… they don’t work.
I have just spelt my name wrong three times before I got the letters to go in the right order.
Hopefully this will stop soon because I have a book to edit.

Okay I’m giving you homework hunnies.
You have to do two things
1) Go make a new Blog friend
2) Go nominate your own or somebody else’s blog when you go and vote for mine and I will in turn vote for yours

Oh and while I am here I am reminding myself that I should write something on Girl on Girl snogging soon

Survivor theory

2007-11-20T23:07:00.000-08:00

Last night “Survivor Cook Island” drew to a conclusion on South-African television and Yule who had the unwavering support of our household from the very beginning walked away with a cheque for a million dollars.

The episode of survivor was a direct contrast to the home coming of the 50 American soldiers that was shown on the Oprah show only hours before that.

And while I hate to admit it, the fact is that a game show and a gossipy talk show illustrated ,almost exactly, the difference between third world and first world countries.

I think that the populace of third world countries, due to extreme poverty and the lack of strong leadership, are a very self preserving people. Each is playing for himself and the prospect of personal gain overrides the need for a structured society.
I will illustrate my point with a simple example.
This morning while I was stuck in the traffic I noticed that the woman behind me was sucking on an Ashman pump every two or three minutes. I felt very sorry for her as the line of cars in front of us stretch along for a good three km.
However while I was sitting there cringing at the bad selection on radio music a mini bus taxi raced by me in the emergency lane right to the front of the line of stationary vehicles.
Obviously the people in the front of the line were reluctant to let this obnoxious line jumper in so the taxi driver thought it would be terribly smart to drive over the curb to the other side of the intersection and push in front of somebody there.
He had little regard for the other people who were following the rules and did not consider that every one of us are as desperate to get to work as he is, No his only concern was for his own gain.

I cal this the survivor society.
And I honestly think that this should be considered when governing our people.
I think that the causes for this behavior should be addressed before all ells.

Then on the other side of the spectrum there is the United States, a country that for the most part has been able to depict itself as the picture of patriotism.
It is no secret that 50% of the population don’t agree with Bushes money hungry war mongering interference in Iraq but that hasn’t stopped thousands of young soldiers from laying their life down on the line for their country.
I am under no illusion that it is all sunshine and roses on those far of shores and I realize that every barrel has its bad apples but for the most part the U.S. has risen above poverty and most of the challenges that face third world countries and the population understands that sacrifices have to be made to maintain their current standards of living.

This by the way is only the first installment of the survivor theory as I plan to solve the worlds problems in the next.

By the way, I spent three hours editing Wills first installment of his, as yet nameless, book so I would appreciate it if you go around and comment as both of us are welcoming construcktive criticism on it.
So go around to Wills blog and have a look at it

Driving in Africa and Hallo in Turkish

2007-11-19T06:03:00.000-08:00

The day I got my drivers licensed was the day that I finally won my freedom.
I say finally because I only became a legal driver at 21 years of age.
Before that I relied on my mothers reluctant generosity and my powers of persuasion to get me where I was going, a fact that drove my independent ego around the twist.

The fact that the first singes of civilization were a good 20km (12.5miles) drive from our home did not make the bruise on my social life any easier to bare and I was convinced that having my drivers license would change my life.
For once my materialistic outlook proved to be right.

In a country where using public transport is as safe as bleeding in a shark tank, having your own car and being allowed to drive it can change your entire existence
However passing your drivers License test is probably the most difficult thing the that young people in South-Africa must do.
I personally thought that getting my High school diploma was a walk in the park in comparison.
I only got my drivers Licensed on the fourth try and it was the source of much depression and tears every time that I failed.
I think that it was the most difficult time in Stiffla and My relationship and Stiffla must have felt like he was living with leonine porcupine with a cactus enema.

This weekend I spent some time with a very dear friend of mine as they practiced for their own driver’s test that will take place tomorrow.
They practiced reverse parking and all the silly observations that turn this simple task into a near impossible feat.
Then there is the parallel parking that is not without its own set of observations
Side mirror, rear view mirror, check your blind spot, put your indicator on , put your car in gear, control your clutch, release hand brake, check blind spot while pulling away and so on and so on.
The simple act of stopping at a robot becomes a half hour look-here-look-there complication that you are lucky to complete before the traffic light turns red again.
And all the while the worst out of an already sour picking of public services scrutinizes your driving skill.
The fact that once you have passed this test, you will never drive like this again is irrelevant and the fact that you are being tested against a false standard escapes the traffic department.
So I find it rather aggravating that my friend is being put under such stress for the sake of such a load of unnecessary crap.
It aggravates me even further that I know what my friend feels like and I cannot help make it better.
Damn I wish I had a real point to make.

By the way thanks so much to CEO for the Girl Blogger award. God I love awards

And I have learnt to say hallo in Turkish from my new friend Erk who came by my blog.
Everybody say “Marhaba”

under the catagory "subjects not discussed"

2007-11-16T02:12:00.000-08:00

A little while ago I resolved that I was going to better myself by either, stopping using bad language like I am some linguistically challenged shellfish or by curbing my anger.
Today I am wishing that I had rather decided to stop swearing….
So in an attempt to bring myself back from “the realm of the fire eater” I am posting my second blog for the day.
This is something that I don’t often do as half of the pleasure I get from blogging is derived from reading your comments…usually I give the comments a day or so to build up before I completely indulge myself in the stimulating and sometimes kookie opinions of my fellow bloggers.
However today is different and I am dedicating this blog to things that I have wanted to say ask or scream for a while yet that wont completely fill a whole post

Will is back
First of I would like to announce that after a short absence Will is back…Most of you by now have gathered that there has been a bit of politics and it is in the interest of calming the see’s of disaster that the blog has undergone a bit of a makeover and I personally feel that it has become a stronger representation of the metal head/ sport freak/ stroke pain in the but, that gives me daily reports of the consistency of his bowl movements at dinner time.
In addition to writing about his random brain farts Will, will also ad installments of the fantasy novel that he is writing at the moment.

The blog most likely to inspire a pair of pajamas award

”Maybe it's just the photograph on Nosjunkie's blog, but I see her pajamas as being more dramatic. Perhaps black vinyl, perhaps leather. Basically, I imagine her pajamas as a cross between a Cenobite from Hellraiser and Hugh Hefner”
This is what good old Crankster said about me when he did his bit to stop me from knawing though my own pulse today.
And in the spirit of spreading the love I am nomination the following people for this award

Sweet ass rsa:
In my completely uneducated opinion I would say that sweet as cant decide between silky PJ’S and flannel ones with cow spots on them so I shudder to thing what Sweet ass inspired PJ may look like.
Probably hot pants with writing on the but that says “ shut up your looking aren’t you”

Will:
Because he’s gone through some hectic times lately. His PJ would probably be Pink and say “ Man of the house” you know those kind of PJ that your significant other gives you and you just wear to make her happy.

CEO:
Okay no PJ’s here just a pair of underpants with a pic of …well you know what… on the front looking les than ecstatic and a heading saying “board member” hahahaha
You see what I did there

Etain:
because this lady having lost her granny lately needs some comfort.

JR: I hate to say whet everybody is thinking but JR inspired PJ’S are subtle with black and white horizontal stripes and a cereal number .

On another note.
You guys might have noticed that I am putting al sorts of toys up on my side bar and my latest is the thingie that shows the nationality of all the people who have come by your blog.
Yesterday somebody from New deli was here.
I would love it if all these people left a comment.

I would also like to know why Rabbits blog is Pink?
Rabbit why is your blog Pink?

HOW DANGEROUS IS THE NET

2007-11-15T22:18:00.000-08:00

I am not a happy bunny today
In fact that’s an understatement
I am spitting mad and while I it is not my place to divulge the full details about what has me seeing red I intend to make as close a reference to it as is possible while still remaining completely trivial.

Lately the peaceful utopia of plot life has been shattered for no good reason.

It all started with a picture being posted on one of my regular reads, it wasn’t crude or badly intended… in fact quite the opposite… but the result has been mass hysteria.

So today I am asking the opinion of my fellow blogger, Myspacers and facebookers.
HOW DANGEROUS IS THE INTERNET?!?

My blog has been running for more than a year and most of my blog buddies know my real name and I have pictures of myself posted.
I have not in all my time blogging had a single creep approach me or harass me.
However it is the opinion of some that displaying your picture on the internet makes you a target for freaks and perverts. And it has been the cause of more than its fair share of fight mongering in my world the last few days.

Having said this I need to highlight the fact that since I have had MXIT on my phone I have had no les than 5 people ask me to take my cloths of and talk dirty to them.
I was “up skirted” in our local shopping mall last year and I do remember a particular incident at school where a guy thought it was okay to grab a big hand full of my boobs.

I am of the opinion that stepping out of your front door in the morning is more dangerous than blogging or having your face plastered all over facebook and myspace.

Granted If I were a mother I wouldn’t want my 10 or 16 year old on the internet but at 18 I don’t think it matters anymore because you can’t even go to a club or pub without somebody putting your face on the net.

People Please tell me If I am wrong.
I more than welcome everybody’s honest opinions

I don’t think that the net is more dangerous than the real world. If I wanted to cut and past your face onto a naked body I could quite easily take a picture of you in a mall or on the street and do that.
I don’t think that having a picture on the net makes you any more attractive to pervs than wearing a bikini on the beach.
Yes I am against all sorts of child porn or exploitation of children but for all that is holly be reasonable about it all.

S.O.S 4 LOVE

2007-11-15T02:15:00.000-08:00

I realize that this is very uncharacteristic of me but today I would like to share a love story with you.
I feel that I need to tell this story for various reasons one being that love to watch the pages of this romance turn as I am fast leaving that phase of my life behind where whimsical young love may fall into my lap at any turn.

This is the story of Slipknot and Piglet and it started when they met at my house on New Years Eve.
Piglet is my very best friend, a fact that I seldom mention but is no less true for it. She’s a small happy pink little thing who is so cute you may feel tempted to fold her up and carry her around in your handbag.
Having not yet reached the age of eighteen and having been schooled in single sex schools her whole life Piglet was calm and reserved among the testosterone charged frivolity of the New Year celebration.
Slip knot on the other hand had spotted her in the crowd almost instantly and immediately started pestering me about her.

In early February they finally had a chance to chat and it was rather sweet watching their jittery little conversations and shy gestures.
But Slip Knot had made up his mind and when valentines came around the bay made his move…
Piglet was greeted with heart shaped balloons roses and chocolates strewn across her bed when she got home and it truly was enough to make your heart melt.

I am not sure when it became official but today Slipknot and Piglet are inseparable.

I am telling you this because I am the most hanus sister a girl could ask fore my real sister “Tigger” and I are not on speaking terms as I have hate her boyfriend and have one more than one occasions threatened to do unthinkable things to him.
I once chase a bunch of guys out of our house at three in the morning with a cricket bat and a serious intent to use it.

However I have known Piglet since her teeth were the most eye catching thing about her and she is as close to me as my real sister should be. I love her to death and would do everything humanly possible to make sure no harm befalls her (I am not even exaggerating) and I honestly feel that Slipknot would do the same

He respects her and protects her with his every breath.
He respects the fact that she is writing exams and needs to spend time with her books
He gives her time with her friends and her family and at the same time respects her family just as much.
And most of all her would rather die than hurt her emotionally, physically or in any other way.

Unfortunately this fairy tale is under immense strain right now through no fault of Piglet’s or Slipknot’s and because I am a great believer in the power of thought I would like all of you who can spare the moment to just send them thoughts of strength and support.
Make it your good deed for the day and save some of the little love that is left in the world

SEX! Oh no!!!!

2007-11-14T03:29:00.000-08:00

I find it strange that in a house of open minded liberal thinkers sex was such a high hurdle to jump.
Its sad but it is true… by the time my mother finally scraped together the stomach to talk to me about sex I was 21 years old and no longer in need of her jittery little chat.
I remember her trying once when I was 14 but at 14 the information obtained from your juvenile friends regarding the subject is far more interesting and ,in your mind, far more accurate than the horror stories that your fossilized old mother could come up with.

At the end of the day when I lost my virginity it had nothing to do with an emotional bond with my chosen partner but rather a matter of not being able to contain the curiosity that by now occupied 90% of my conscious thoughts and 100% of my subconscious thoughts.
The fact that he was a virgin and making himself shamelessly available provided an opportunity that could not be passed up.
Needles to say I was left a little disappointed and a little ashamed.
You see in those formative years I was desperately trying to fit into the box and unfortunately that box left no room for such fornication so I turned my little encounter into a full blown 11month relationship.

Today I cant help thinking that If I had grown up in household where sex was discussed as if it were common place and not as if it were some form flesh eating virus I would have been able to escape the years of guilt that sex triggered.
I may also have been able to contain my curiosity for a little while longer.

I don’t think that sex is evil or that it is the direct path to eternal damnation and I am bale to realize that it is a natural urge that needs to be satisfied.
I understand that teenagers are little les than fleshy balls of hormonal dysfunctions (having recently been one of those fleshy balls myself) and that all of them are thinking of having sex.
And I honestly believe that if you start talking to your children about sex when their teens it is way too late.
I think that sex should not be seen as a taboo subject for discussion for children at all I believe that you should talk to them about it from a young age and try and maintain these lines of communication throughout high school and onwards.
While this may be uncomfortable I think the pro’s outweigh the cons…
For toddles a knowledge of what sex is will protect that child from falling victim to sexual predators.
For teens knowing what sex is and what to expect will lower the risk of teen pregnancies will teach a child that they can speak to their finally openly if they are being pressured and it will also mean a higher awareness of STD’S.
As an adult I think that getting rid of the inhibitions surrounded by sex can only benefit your sex life.

So why am I bringing this up?
Well I am bringing this up because I felt that this is definitely one of my more useful rushes of shit to the brain and I would like to document it now while I am young enough to understand my theory so that one day my children my benefit from it.

What do you guys think…am I going to damage my children for life by implementing my latest brain fart

Random Bullshit for a Tuesday

2007-11-13T01:26:00.000-08:00

My Monday blog absence can be attributed to the fact that I had to drive to Rustenburg to close a business deal.
While I love driving in general I do object to being subjected to my own company for these long stretches of time.
I am completely unable to maintain my own sanity if I have nobody near me to drive nuts.
It is for this reason that I find myself rather distressed at the state of radio in South-Africa.
I often depend on radio stations such as 5fm, Highveld and recently Jacaranda to keep me company on the long roads and the unavoidable traffic jams and while Highveld’s Rude Awakening and 5fm’s Morning show with Gareth Cliff and Fresh Drive with DJ Fresh are adequate as far as conversation and topic go I find myself cringing at the choice of music that they play.
While I do realize that these stations have to cater for a diverse group of people and cant please 100% of people 100% of the time would it kill them to replace Britney Spears with a bit of greenday or System.
I am not even going to talk about the lunch time shows on S.A. radio because such boredom could reduce me to tears.
I am petitioning for an all rock station to be launched in a n effort to maintain minimum sanity

On another note.
It seems that the geeks are in season and my weekend fell victim to a stampede of these sunlight deprived creatures and I was subjected to a LAN party.
Counter strike and Heineken was the going poison and even I joined in fore a round or two (but only because they let me shoot at Stiffla).
Admittedly…I am currently coming down from a mild addiction to Oblivion, but apart from that I am not completely taken in by the pixel driven world of gaming whether it be by PC or PS.
Stiffla and Will however, are a mutated form of geek, a point which at the best of times drives me up the wall because it deprives me of the human interaction I desperately crave when I get home.
Unfortunately, until the novelty of “hellgate London” has worn off I am stuck talking to my cats and a very depressed looking carrot.
Have you guys ever noticed how cyber chicks are always uber hot?

Oh by the way, look what wondered into the garden to come trim the lawn yesterday evening

Moral or Humane

2007-11-08T23:45:00.000-08:00

Would you rather be moral or humane?

Face book calls it a cause and a little while ago woman around the world were queuing up to join the “if you cant take care of it keep your legs closed” cause. The page showed horrific pictures of the results of abortions, the graphics were disturbing and it had those woman spitting mad.
One poor woman who had obviously opted for an abortion was ripped apart in the comments section and Chaz even blogged about it.
Chaz and I also discussed this at length and at the end of the day it was evident that I had not yet formulated an opinion about the subject that I could completely stand by.

However after putting a great deal of thought into it I have come up with something and against all expectations I am going to say that I support the legalization of abortion.

I realized that so many people were taking the moral high ground by saying that abortion is murder and saying that woman who can’t afford the financial responsibility of taking care of the child should stop having sex.

I counter the latter statement with pure logic…
Build a bridge and get over it…
They will not stop having sex and saying that they should is pissing in to the wind.

Unwanted pregnancies are here to stay especially in under developed countries and among the poor.

Before I start my explanation I want you all to realize that I am not condoning any of this but rather that I realize that the problem of unwanted children is one that will not be solved for years to come and in the mean time it has become a situation of picking the lesser of two evils

A little while ago a new born was found wrapped in plastic bag and buried alive. It was a miracle in itself that the child survived.
Another was thrown down a pit toilet and hundreds are discarded on rubbish dumps in dustbins and open pieces of felt.
The child in the picture above was left in the felt at the mercy of hungry predators.

Mothers who don’t want their children will get rid of them one way or another whether they throttle them with their own umbilical cord before flushing them down the toilet or whether they abort the fetus.

This is the fact and this is where we have to choose, are we going to be moral and say that this is murder and perhaps sentence that child to a worse fate

Or are we going to be humane and spare that child from drowning or being buried alive by giving the mother the option of abortion.

Look at it this way a fetus that is not fully developed and fully aware will suffer a whole lot less at the hands of abortion than a new born fully developed baby would when starving slowly to death

Somebody is telling me that the child in the picture is okay…so there is hope right?
However the lady who found the child in the felt says that for every one that they save there a thirteen others that die long painful deaths.

So what do you think
Humane or Moral ?

Blog scrap booking

2007-11-08T00:08:00.000-08:00

Hi there guys
I promis to blog something usefull soon but in the mean time I want to let you guys know about this killer great site I found.
Its called Blingee and it lets you modify pics with all sorts of bling.
so go to www.blingee.com and see what you can do
This is one I made of Will and I am so proud of my work

Create cool Profile Comments

Coogles and man eaters

2007-11-07T00:19:00.000-08:00

When I walk down the passage Will makes beeping noises and warns people of a wide load… I, in turn, have named his belt “equator” and yell “please don’t eat me” when he walks in the door.
This is “the fight of the fat” and Will started it, not because I am stereotypically obese but because it is a fail save way to piss me off… Lately however the situation has escalated and the light hearted every-now-and-then banter has become obsessive stabbing… here I take responsibility… When Will moved in with us he was in the okay shape one would expect from someone who spent years drinking…errr… I mean playing on a mediocre to kak school rugby team…However my good food, his inexhaustible appetite for it and the chair bound life of an obsessive geek has made his clothing shrink and his gut expand.
I do understand that the African sun is harsh on a man and that growing a gut would at least shade his genitals but I do fear the effects that eternal shade my have on the young man… nothing grows in the shade after all.
Anyway in the hopes of achieving a truce Will and I joined a gym.

We set of in search of a suitable price … I mean facility on Monday afternoon and our attentions were immediately drawn to the bright red and blue of one of our countries top franchises.
I parked my poor Corsa at the end of a line of shinny BMW’s and walked away very quickly.
Inside an umpa-lumpa shaped consultant collected us for a terribly brief tour of the gym.
As we walked we passed a spinning class that reminded me of a bunch of grapes. Ten red faced round coogles pedaled for dear life in their branded pink gym gear as they glared at us with apparent disapproval.
In another section we found a sinewy stick insect lifting free weights, he looked much too interested in Will so we moved on with speed.
We were introduced to treadmills with built in TV’s and reclinable bikes. I found this terribly ironic, but quickly realized that I was the only one and that rich people don’t like you laughing when their training.
We were whisked into a tiny damp little office where the Umpa-Lumpa lady pretended to make us a great deal.
This must have been the cardio facility because once the final figures and a 36 month contract was shown to me I left complaining of severe cardio vascular failure.

We decided to try one other place before giving ourselves in to prospect of eternal flab and took a short left to an independently managed gym in a mall.
This time the salesperson didn’t resemble anything out of a kiddies book and we would soon find out that the gym was running on an impromptu world wrestling federation theme.
The hairless Chewbacca paraded an intimidated me and an inadequate looking Will past some of his kin who looked like they were on a strict diet of dinosaur dung and human beings. One of them grunted at me and I almost crapped myself.
There were TVless treadmills and a hysterically happy aerobics teacher who proves the release of endorphins by physical activity.
At the back they have a room with machines that shocks the living shit out of you until your fat surrenders and buggers off.
They also offer kickboxing and I have signed Will up for belly dancing.
Chewy drew up some numbers and undercut the coogle gym by almost half… we signed the twelve month contract (Partly because I feared the consequences of saying no to this man eater) and we are now members of an elite S.A click who are addicted to physical fitness.

Next week Will and I have to go for a body analysis so that they can put percentages to our fat.
I am challenging Will… If you post your fat percentage rubbish I’ll post mine for the whole wide world to see.

In the comments say whatever you want… your going to anyway… and if anybody posts “whatever you want” you get 10 smart ass points

Peace out peeps

socking revelation

2007-11-05T02:51:00.000-08:00

Since Mondays are such melancholy days by nature I decided to bring this up today even though the thought occurred to me a little while ago.

Some time ago, one of my regular reads went on a short trip…it was supposed to be a 24 hour thing… However when I checked in two days latter there had been no update on this blog and my neurotic little mind started doing summersaults.
There was no way for me to tell what had happened to my cyber buddy… what if he had gotten hit by an elephant and died a tragic death.

While I more than understand that these friendships that we form on the net are not clearly defined, I really would like to know if something happened to you because at the end of the day no matter how abstract these relationships are I still consider you my friends.

I am going to entrust my password to someone in my family today so that if something were to happen to me there would be someone to let you guys know.

Let me know what your opinions are about this.

On another morbid note:
Last night Will, myself and Stiffla were out on the porch gawking at the lightning.
I love thunderstorms and living on the plot we have more than our fair share of skyline to enjoy it but last night was stunning the lightning bolts showered down endlessly…

This morning however I got a glimpse of the less stunning side when my mom let me know that my step dad’s father had actually been struck by lightning… He’s alright but I googled it and it turns out the chances of getting struck by lightning is 576,000 to 1

I am sorry this is badly written and boring but I am in a hurry
Peace out peeps

Wills Blog and Satan's Birthday

2007-11-01T06:04:00.000-07:00

Halloween came and passed in South-Africa with only one or two pubs sporting a cobweb or two.
There was no trick or treating in our neighborhood… leaving me disappointed as I had my heart set on scaring the crap out of a kid or two, I did however hear one or two of the caller on the 5fm morning show tell Gareth Cliff that in one or two secure complexes the neighborhood watch pulled together and arranged trick or treating for the kids. I suppose that if you don’t live in South-Africa it must be very hard to understand why you would need the support of the neighborhood watch to go trick or treating.
Either way it was on this same breakfast show that one of those puritan bible pushers phoned in and pronounced that she would never ever celebrate Halloween as it is Satan’s Birthday.
I immediately turned into one of those people you see in the traffic laughing at their radio.
I was dumb struck to say the least…
Tell me what you guys think before I launch into a massive explanation as to why this woman needs help

ANNOUNCEMENT
I am sending you guys off to another Blogg. First link on my link List…. Go check out Will’s blogg.
After my graphic explanation of our shopping antics Will retaliated by creating a Blogg for himself its called “the mind of a shit stirrer” and I suggest you take a strong constitution and a whole hell of a lot of parental guidance along because will is set on proving why he should not be left to roam freely among the normal people.
My suggestions that he tone down his language has fallen on deaf ears and this Blog is not for the sensitive.

I am getting to posting on every bodies bloggs so just hang on

Shoping with the family

2007-10-30T03:58:00.000-07:00

This morning I was playing touch rugby with Sawyer from Lost on a deserted beach when Stiffla told me to move up.
Reluctantly I opened one eye and it shot in the direction of the window… the slight misty resentment I boarded towards Stiffla for disturbing me from my dream evaporated into one of those real “Oh shit” feelings. The sun was shining…which meant one of two things…. Either it was Saturday or I had overslept.
It turned out to be the latter.
In 15min I was dressed and driving the living shit out of “Giffie” (my car) and yet I still pitched late for work.

I have decided to blame this slothly behavior on Stiffla’s Brother “Will”.
Yesterday a months hard labour and misuse of the companies internet facilities paid of and I, like the rest of the population, flocked to the supermarket so that I can take my family off the diet of cardboard box and tomato sauce I had them on.
Usually we all do this together as I keep Stiffla and Will under the illusion that they actually have a say in what they eat.
The boys register their dislike of this monthly ritual in various way’s.
For one; each insists on having his own trolley, this is not because they are overly helpful but rather because they want to race one another up and down the tampon isle. (the bright side is that half of the woman in Boksburg have been frightened into early menopause)
The only reason I permit this behavior is because if we get only one trolley one of the boys commits himself to the cockpit of this Pick and Pay propelled hell cart, and believe me there is not much room in there next to a 20 year old kid.
Other manifestations of their bad grace include adding an assortment of sweets chips and toys to my selection when I am not looking. I have countered this by sticking to a budget, if after the bare essentials have been paid for there is any money left they get to choose from the collection of crap they added.
They also unpack my trolley in the wrong order and then tell me that I am a hag when I bitch about having oven cleaner in the same packet as the frozen goods.
And the most recent trick is to go watch movies…. No hang on you don’t get it… I found them flat on their asses in the appliance section, each with a packet of jumping jack popcorn watching the movie they run on the screens.

I ask you. It’s no wonder their mothers a text book psycho.

Anyway, yesterday, Stiffla was not able to make the expedition and I was left with just Will.
If you have ever taken a three year old shopping you will have some idée as to what I went through.
I picked him up from work and having a captive audience, I announced that we had to go do the shopping.
He looked at me like a wet cat and said “do we have to”
“Yes” I said sternly, then Will stuck his head out the window of my moving car and asked the woman in the car next to us if she would adopt him.
Leaving the poor woman to her heart attack we made our way to the hyper market where I had to bribe the little bugger with food before he donned a shopping cart.
With a long face he followed me and grabbed every opportunity to piss me off.
The floor of the unfortunate institute is now plastered in egg and mayonnaise because every time I want to drop something in the cart Will reversed it.
I learnt my lesson and started creeping up on him… however the creative mind of a shit stirrer has now limits and he retaliated by trying to ram the cart into my ankles.

I am now petitioning that the shopping cart be registered as a lethal weapon.
I have yet to hear the end of this and he is still bitching about the inhumane torture I put him through.

Latter I am going shopping with Chaz and I swear that if she breaks any speed limits with a trolley or dons a cucumber as a fashion accessory I am going to stick my head in the microwave

Blogs that hit the spot

2007-10-29T05:11:00.000-07:00

I am sorry that I am only getting around to spreading the love now but my mother in law called me a “snotkop” (snot head) over the weekend and I have been sulking about the fact that a person with brain activity that barely rivals that of single selled organisms had the nerve to call me something so degrading. She also insulted my family and extended family so I am really pissed and am as we speak composing a really good argument to have her tar and feathered.

But late is better than never unless you’re a woman and then late is just as bad for ones nerves…. Did I say that out loud .

So here it is

A little while ago…okay admittedly a little longer than that. CEO nominated me for an award thingie.
I was killer ecstatic cos I have never gotten one of these things and I am yet to figure out where to put it so I can be 100% la-dee-da about it.
Thanks CEO

Anyway the point I think is to spread the love so here are my nominations for Blogs that hit the spot.

Etain
Etain is a poet and a writer and she writes about very real things and emotions and always executes this perfectly

Rabbit
What can I say other than… reading his blog has improved my sex life. This blog is not for the faint at heart peeps

Angel
This lady is the coolest single mom I know. She’s big on writing bout life and the real stuff. She’s also an S.A . blogger with spunk.

Fish
Okay where do I begin.
I go to this blog everyday just to see if he’ll through me a bone by giving me an idée about who fish is. He’s one of those guys who has so much color that you could spend the day just baiting him into a conversation

Pink stuffing
Shes young and fun, I almost identify with her and she runs TOO MUCH INFORMATION TUESDAYS!

Monster in law

2007-10-25T05:29:00.001-07:00

Anthony told me he had cancer so that I wouldn’t dump him, I told him never to come near me again and swore that I would never commit to a guy who has less integrity than I have and who thinks that aluminum touring style wings are "Pimping". Anthony got a fourteen year old pregnant and is now awaiting the birth of his illegitimate brat.

Then came another chapter that I dare not cover here because I just might want to chew off my arm and hit myself with the stump.
However out of this 11month long pit of hell my current relationship was born.

Stiffla was ,to me, the proverbial silver lining around a very dark cloud.
I am not gonna get into the details today because I have a strict no gooey squishy post clause. All that I am going to say is that Stiffla doesn’t have a jealous bone in his body, he would never cheat (primarily because he wouldn’t know a flirt if it walked up to him and sexually molested him in the street) and we have never had a fight because of his completely docile nature. I scream he listens till I feel better then offers me a beer.

However our fairy tale is far from perfect…..Enter devil woman….. Stiffla’s mother is as close to the spawn of hell as you will ever get.
When we moved in together she threatened to get the priest to come talk to us about our sins.
This is no joke people she really really did saying that “living together before getting married is against Gods will” she only changed her mind when Stiffla explained that she better get a damned good priest cos he will be walking right into my playground.

After that I made the cardinal mistake of inviting the battle axe and the rest of the family to our flat for Stiffla’s birthday…
I was polite to the old Hag, swore at Willem and Dan (the brothers) and joked with Stiffla’s dad.
All went well….well at least that’s what I thought.
Unfortunately I was about to find out that years of elective unemployment (sitting on your but at home with nobody to talk to but the maid) has nursed a love of gossip in the woman.
Promptly at eight the following morning Stiffla got a phone call from the witch to explain to him that she saw dust in the flat and that she couldn’t believe that I was forcing the poor dear to do his own ironing and washing.
For Stifflas sake she said that she would come and pick up his washing and have it done fore him.

I choked on my coffee, I swore ,my lord, did I swear and when I had recovered my composure I politely told him that he could tell his mother to go Fuck herself in no uncertain terms.

Ladies and gents I work a 8:00 to 17:00 I come home, I cook and then I relax.
Obviously this woman was expecting me to quit my job so that I could wait hand and foot on her little angel.
I would rather die than become some guys maid.
I am very sorry, Stiffla was forced into domestication boot camp the second he walked into my door and I am proud to say that he cooks, Irons and washes cloths like a pro now.

Anyway the whole thing blew over and she said sorry.
Unfortunately a sewer rat doesn’t change its spots and the Troll pitched up at my house on my birthday.
Uninvited I might add.
I was doing the washing and Stiff was fixing the roof, Will was playing PC games and even poked his head out his room to say hi (we haven’t seen that much movement from him on a weekend since….)
I made a huge effort to be accommodating considering the setting.
I offered cold dink and chatted to his dad and his mom but apparently my efforts were found wanting….

On Monday the news reaches me via my trusty munchkin Will that I made her feel unwelcome.

Now the fact that she sure as hell wasn’t welcome is irrelevant, the fact that I was singled out while her sons barely acknowledged that she was there, highlights the fact that she is out to get me.

CAN YOU BELIEVE IT!

Anyway in dew time she will be told that I am not interested in her plastic friendship and she can spare her sorry for someone who gives a shit.
I will not be the victim of her board narrow little mind.
I am even considering not inviting her in the wedding.

By the way if any of you are gonna tell me that by posting this I am just as bad as she is…. I object this woman is an amateur at bitchyness compared to me

Have you noticed that my pics dont suit my posts

2007-10-24T04:13:00.000-07:00

Today a test on face book told me that I am only 23% normal and I am abusing my right to be strange.
I was compelled to sink to a level of eloquence where the word DUH would suffice.
I suppose if you weren’t allowed to use the words, loud, volatile argumentative, obnoxious, lunatic, exocentric and psychopath; strange would be the perfect word to describe me.
Don’t get me wrong I am not dangerous or anything (unless you fall into the ex boyfriend category) I just subscribe to a very different reality than what most people do.
For example:

I talk to myself on a regular basis. This is mainly because I have this suppressed personality (she’s the nice one) who wants to dress up in pink, quit her job and go care for hungry orphans and abused woman in some syphilis infected third world country.
This personality needs to be shouted at from time to time.
So its not unusual to see me crapping myself out at intervals.
At the end of the day I am much more productive when I have convinced myself that South-Africa is as third world as I can handle and if those woman want to be less abused or less hungry they should stop voting for Robert Mugabe.

I love to tell people things like “Money does buy happiness” “personally I don’t give a shit” and “yes as a matter of fact I do believe a good hiding can do wonders for disciplining you brats”.
I know that when I say these things people will give me the opportunity to tell them how idealistic they are.
That and I also love pissing people off.

I openly discuss sex with priests pastors and anybody who appears to frigid for my liking.

I bait people by exposing exactly how terrible I am from the word go hoping that they will pick a fight I am sure to win

I would rather be right than content.
I’d rather be rich than have kids.
And most of all
Id rather Blog than face book

Disclaimer: I had nothing else to say so if its sucks, I am sorry you were sucker enough to get this far

Peace out peeps

Idiot and mothers in law

2007-10-22T07:23:00.001-07:00

Good blogs are like farts. They come to you when you least expect them and when you try and create one out of thin air it turns out shitty.
It is 3:57 pm and my attempts at blogging have been winded, to say the least.

Tomorrow I am not going to spend much time in the office.
I am going to grin and bare it and go and see my clients.
You might think that my pessimism is unfounded but believe me it isn’t.
I suffer from a very serious condition that I have come to call “Impaired Direction Inclination-T” or IDIOT.
Symptoms of IDIOT can range from getting Lost, driving in circles and direction confuckulation to severe highway anxiety.
The only known treatment that can adequately manage IDIOT is voice prompting GPS.
Unfortunately very few doctors suffer from IDIOT and I have not yet been able to get one of them write me a prescription for a Garmin GPS.

In other news…
There is a dark cloud of matrimonial disaster looming.
Don’t get me wrong I love Stiffla but I am starting to think that we should just have a killer bachelor and bachelorette party and forget about the rest. I have no qualms about planning a party based on drinking and stripping but I do however dread the year of planning that goes into the wedding.
My other reasons for abstaining from matrimonial bliss is the bovine devil woman from whose lions my beloved happened to spring.
I understand that it is not unusual to dislike ones mother in law but is it natural to fantasize about selling her into slavery.

My time is up I‘ll tell you the mother in law story tomorrow

Bok fever

2007-10-19T09:36:00.000-07:00

Before I start my post I want you guys to go have a look at Chaz's blog. its in my link list.
Chaz and I work together. she is currently verry pissed off about abortion and is voicing her concern in verry graphic terms. Please go drop her a comment.

I understand that Rugby is not big in the states but I would like to give you picture of what South-Africa is like this morning.
For those of you who don't know the South-African Springboks are playing the English Roses in the Rugby world cup final this Saturday.
You must understand that contrary to the pretty picture S.A tries to show the world things are all but Rosy here and dividing line between races very much still and issue.
However this morning... as I was driving to work I couldn't miss that every driver in every care was wearing a springbok jersey. Every radio station has played an amazing selection of war cries and I have heard the national anthem sung at leats 5 times.
You must understand that I am not the worlds biggest SPORT fanatic but as I sit here there is knot in the pit of my stomach and my skin is goose pimply.
It is absolutely amazing.

However this is Africa and here every silver cloud has a dark lining.
As I said before, our government likes to portray our country as free of racial discrimination however the truth is very different.
When the springboks get back from France the team will be turned up side down because the government is starting to reform the team.
They are forcing the governing bodies of the sport to have a certain amount of players of colour in the team.
Picking players based on Merritt is no longer an option, we are being forced to pick players based on skin color.
I don't know about you but this sounds racist to me.
And on the other hand if we are doing this with rugby why not with soccer.
If the team is to be a true representative of South-Africa shouldn't there be a certain amount of white players in the soccer team.

What do you guys think?
How would you feel if bush said that you had to have majority black players in your baseball team or football team.
Shouldn't this kind of politics be left out of sport.

Either way after the world cup I am supporting the all blacks and boycotting the Springboks

Problems with Horses

2007-10-18T00:13:00.001-07:00

“When you fall of the horse just dust yourself off and get back on”
I am not being trivial again, I have a point.
I don’t get back on the hors I launch an epic inquisition into why I fell of the hors before finding a new hors
Now I have to be honest this isn’t Texas and I am running the hell out of horses.

I am a committed student of history and I have, above all, learnt that while history has the potential to strengthen a nation it can most defiantly destroy an individuals believes.

I am one of those individuals.
I only see the destruction as enlightenment.
I grew up a Christian with an enquiring mind so much so that the “having faith” was not an answer. The Dutch reform church failed miserably in answering my questions, the apostolic almost had me but in the end I turned to the written words of history and science and fact gave faith a royal hiding.

I rethought my spiritual believes and in the end was drawn to what is loosely termed Eclectic paganism. I don’t believe in gods, rather in energies and attributes within ourselves I believe in nature and the power it has over man kind.
Where heaven was reincarnation filled the void, and where prayer was meditation came.
I was especially drawn to the fact that no sex was held lord of the other and woman were given their rightful respect.
A lot of my inspiration was drawn from the romantic figures of Celtic and Gaelic gods.
The stories of Morgan and Diana and the wise Merlin.
And when I say romantic I am mean romanticized. One of the largest growing religions in the world is wicca, they are peaceful and accepting and may in fact be misleading.
You will be taught that there are different paths, witch craft, Shamanism and Druidism.
And the gods have positive and negative traits.

Now this is where my dilemma comes in
I am currently reading a book about the mythology of the ancient Celts
In this book the Druids are animated as no less power hungry and manipulative as the Vatican and the people as barbarians who honored their Gods by human sacrifice.
Not he caring country people they are seen as today
However at the same time the book also notes that the lore of the ancient Britons Celts and Gael was handed down by verbal stories and that some of the only written material we have on them are the observations of Caesar during their campaigns in Brittan.
Most of these manuscripts were written by Monks of the Christian order they were trying to enforce upon the British natives.

Now I ask you!
The verbal folk lore is most definitely badly distorted as it is thousands of years old
And the written material is questionable given the religious climate of the time.
What do we believe.

Personally I am happy with my nameless way of life right now, this is only because ignorance is bliss and I often prefer being right to being happy, but if anybody has some form of info to add please do

Nothing to talk abouty

2007-10-17T01:54:00.000-07:00

Today is a bit hectic and I ahve not had time to think about anything other than how to get to midrand, How to get out of having to go to midrand and how much I hate midrand.
However since I have so many greeeeeeeeat new people to talp to I am gonna make a quick blog of it and swing by yours.
The below pics were mailed to me by Chaz under the title "stupid directors"

Peace out peeps

Happy Birthday Body

2007-10-15T06:18:00.000-07:00

As of yesterday I have inhabited this body for 22 years.
Its in the terrific condition you would expect to find such a young model. No disease rusting at the body work and no notable allergies or chronicles to put it out of work.
I am not planning a trade in for a long time yet.
Happy Birthday Body!
Now I understand that there are raised eyebrows right now and perhaps you are muttering something about “what’s that crazy strumpet on about this time” but if you bare with me for just a moment I will explain.

I am not a great fan of birthdays in the commercial sense of the world, it’s nice to be treated nicely and its a good reason for a party, but then again so is a Saturday.
I spent my birthday in reflection.
Since my last birthday I have moved house and in doing so rebuilt my relationship with my mom and sister, I have cemented the foundations to the worlds most tranquil relationship by getting engaged to the worlds noisiest little bugger, I have made two new friends, I have made no money in a difficult job then found a better job, I have bought a car on my own with not a single cent from mom for a deposit, I have changed my religion, I have gone from suicidal to ecstatic to completely content and am now wallowing in between, I have gotten over Johan’s death and learn to let go…I have also become brave enough to admit that my life is better now, I have forgiven Vee, I have said sorry to Alicia and I have learnt to heal myself.
I have had a good year.

This is where I am gonna make sense so just hang on.
My dad used to say that growing old is mandatory but growing up is optional.
My body is growing old
But I refuse to grow up
I plan to apply 6 year old flair to a 22 year old mind till the day that I die.
Because when I am 80 years old I want to be able to look at 80 years of life well lived and say stuff like “are we there yet” “wowie that’s sooooo cool” and “can I go again, ag pleeeeeeas just once more”.

This is too another year
To me sounding this optimistic for as long as I can handle it
To Etain for remembering my birthday from Britain.
To Grem for partying with me even though your on standby
To Chaz for looking after me when I needed someone to hold my hair back.
To Stiffla and will for oblivion
And to the Boks for giving me a world cup final for my birthday

Peace out Peeps

I have a quacking migrane

2007-10-10T05:17:00.001-07:00

Have you ever had one of those days when even the air tastes bad your so pissed at everything.
Well I am having one off those days.

All started off okay, I got out of bed leaving stiffla drooling on his fat cat, ironed my clothes and got dressed....
This is where it all started, I hate ironing everything and consciously buy cloths that don't need to be ironed, however the weeks of rain have done funny things to everything in my house and I was forced into this loathsome labour.
This done I proceeded to don the freshly ironed top when mother nature kicked me in the teeth again.
It seems this graceful Deity and I are not on speaking terms and somebody forgot to tel me.
when I pulled the top over my head it felt clammy. I told myself that the fact that its ice cold was causing it to feel that way and I only realised that the thing had in fact not dried properly when I got to the office and cold was no longer a viable excuse.

So there I was in wet cloths with puffy hair swearing at everything in bad grace When mother nature sent in her infantry and fan fair.
You might recall that a while ago Marra and I were arguing about weather or not a ducks quack echos;
Well I still don't know about the duck but I now know that an Egyptian goose's quack does.
I have also learnt that the silly thing is dumb as bricks.
now I know for sure that fate will teach you things and that one should learn while you can because one day you most certainly will need it.
This in mind I have decided to feed myself to my rottweilers when I get home as I fear whats in store for me if Fiat is teaching me the dynamics of Egyptian gees.

Hang on back to the story.
There is a goose on the balcony of my office and its been quacking without any sign of stopping for three hours.
In the hope of getting rid of the bugger I have thrown my stapler chair and PC at it but to no avail, he just moves higher up and quacks away.
It took me a while but I figured out the reason for this toe nail curling behavior when I stepped outside to swear at him.
you see every time the bugger quacks the echo created by the surrounding buildings quacks back at him.
Thrlittle shit has been answering himself for three hours while I have been composing cooking instructions for dead goose with stapler stuffing.

Oh by the way I am dedicating this week to hating men.
Two of my girlfriends (hey I have girlfriends, well at least that's what I call them, I believe the popular term for me is bitch) have man problems and I have just had a fight with the chairmen of a car club.
I am quite sure the lines of communication between us have been cut as I was forced to make a graphic remark about his but and a scooby.
naturally I am spitting mad and intend to take it out on the multi coloured collection of dick heads I am sure to find on my commute home.

Witch Brings me to another point.
Ladies and gents... I drive a white corsa lite sport with black frost rims I am short angry.
If you see me on the road bugger off out of my blind spot
say thank you when I give you gap because I could have left you stuck in the wrong lane till your eyeballs dry.
If your a truck doing 80km/h in front of me, bugger of to the slow lane where you belong or at least move out of infront of me.
If your the stupid bitch in the black bmw who was driving on the shoulder of the road today..... I hope you have to remortgage your house to pay that fine
If your the guy in the white honda civic... turn down your radio... your cascada is ruining my ramstein
and last but not least to every brakpan inhabitant who drives a golf coartina datsun bakkie..... note that hooting at me while picking your nose is not a socially accepted form of flirting and I dont think your cute... also note that I am not an idiot and therefor do not fall for the hole in your exhaust that you are trying to pan off as a turbo....I WILL KICK YOUR ASS...and if I cant Stiffla will.

thanks to the young man in the white Nissan nivara who gave me a gap on giloolies today... your mamma raised a good man

Peace out peeps

blogg graveyard

2007-10-09T05:15:00.000-07:00

I have made up my mind that I am gonna have to add a gravyard section to my peanut gallery.
it seems that 90% of the people who I have linked no longer blog and I have been forced to go blo whoring again.
so for the last few days I have neglected to post anything new because I have been surfing the links from site to site commenting on some very nice blogs.
I now plan to compile a new peanut gallery full of blogs that I intend making regular reads.

I am also to scared to blog because there a have been tornado warnings in Gauteng and Icebergs off the African cost... this may be a parralel univers and I fear for teh safty of my blog.

Brain fart

2007-10-03T06:59:00.000-07:00

Ideas are often like men.
When they first approach you, you brush them off as annoying and uninteresting.
However like men they don't go away and you can't turn your ass without it trying to hump your leg (the man not the idea).
With lots of distraction you finally succeed in ignoring it. Its there but only in the corner of your mind just on the presipace of awareness.
Latter you can't help yourself, the prospect of mulling over it has grown on you and at the end of the day it occupies your full attention all day and you have no simple escape.

I have an Idea of the male persuasion and when combining it with the antics of Stiffla and his sibling I have enough nagging testosterone variables to rival the whole Rugby world cup line up.

Now like men all ideas and theories need names (especially in the developing stages) while men need names so that you can shout at them in crowds, ideas need names so that you can say " I cal it my "drol in die drink water" theory" and sound all educated and complicated about it.

I call my theory "the worst case scenario" and if I had the patience I would write a book about it.

If you take all these small little rifts, fights and issues that plague the world at the moment and dramatise the worst possible outcome.
What if the fight for gender equality resulted in a female dominated work force and men were driven into the stay at home dad position.
What if Aids continued on its downward spiral and finally whipped out the whole entire African population.
What if CERN succeed in recreating the big bang and in doing so discredit Genesis and make Christianity obsolete, if the creation of antimatter became the most powerful weapon of mass destruction.
Imagine what the world will be like in a 100 years from now.

We will all be hunter gather warrior woman with hunky male sex slaves campaigning to repopulate Africa after global warming and shit made it the only inhabitable place on earth.
Or perhaps the only survivors would be the people who realised that society and the system would literally mean our end and started these little intentional societies.
What will our new Gods look like and will there still be money power hungry religious sects trying to push their own agenda by indoctrination?

This was my official Friday Brain fart.
the proverbial rush of shit to the brain

My dad and Facebook

2007-09-28T06:26:00.000-07:00

I am an idiot.
rather than morning theloss of my reader base by boycotting facebook, what do I do?... I go and join in!
I have now been facebooking for four days and my educated opinion is that it is pointless and anoying. I have added 50 new applications and acumulated enough creeps to populated a small island.
Further more this loathsome silly thing keeps sending me alerst of the stupid applications people keep wanting me to add... and I cant stop it.
grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

However since I have no audience I am able to post the following without serius scrutiny.

I read a while back about how to reach your spirit guid.
The whole process involves a verry long intense meditation.
I have been meditating like a tebetan monk for the past three months with very little luck.
I have concluded that I my mind has ADD.
I battled to clear my mind of everything, especially of the preconcieved ideas of what your spirit guide should look like.
When I was just gonna conclude that every religion has its cooks and the autor of that artical must have been the Pagan village idiot, when a thunderstorm hit Gauteng.
It was the rain that helped me.

Every piece I had ever read said that meditation comes with silance, however last night with the rain banging on my tim roof I stilled my mind and slipped into that never land of nothingness.
I saw many things, people and animals, they slipped into my mind and just as quickly slipped out. Each image was a thought that I couldnt hold onto.
After a while my dad came into view he walked towards me and came to sit, crossed legged, infront of me.
The image became more vivd as he rubbed his hands in the grass.

Thats it thats all that happened.
Kinda anticlimatical but weird non the less.

I believe that my spirit guid stroke guidian angel is my dad.
I believe he said nothing to me because I can hear him anyway and as any mortal I needed too see him.

If you think this is crap, let me know, your entitled to your opinion just dont start a religios fight with me, especially not if your gonna "Jesus Christ" me, I would hate to be responsibel for your loss of faith.

Cars Girls and Rugby

2007-09-25T05:20:00.000-07:00

The first time I had my Tarot read I was told that I had to get in touch with my feminine side.
Now as I typed the heading to this blog I realised that while your feminine side is your intuitive side (I turned to an esoteric way of life) the cards may have been meaning this literally.
So in my attempts to entice the chick in me I plan to go buy lots of shoes and put my make up on in traffic.
After that I will examine my relationship with everybody I know and do soul searching or whatever it is.
I have already tried to make Willem and DeWet go to the loo with me to no avail.

however let me explain the origin of the obscure heading.

having found a new job that pays enough to have my bank manager call me and accuse me of embezzlement I decided that I need a new ride.
I felt that I had elevated myself to standards where driving a car that has no aircon no audio and no shocks is no longer okay.
I dipped my toes in the auto market having great dreams of the cars, that in my past, I could only afford to write about.
I naturally gravitated to the Fiat stilo Abarth. Having 5 cylinders and 2.4l capacity and more luxury and geee-gooo's than most BMW's I was instantly in love. I filled in the papers and applied for the loan.
This is where my head kicked in.
The head of a penny pincher who has chosen a carrier in financing.
I realised the impact the repayment of this little hunny was gonna have on my new bank balance... I also realised that this is a second hand car and thus I may be buying the aftermath of someone Else's heavy foot.
My heart was bleeding for the stilo but my head was crunching numbers.
In the end I was driven to apply for two other options, one was a Polo 4 1.6.. The Polo was less fun less me and less expensive.
I also applied for finance on a Opel corsa 1.4 sport.
Now the Corsa is brand spanking new has all the gee-goos and is R50k cheep er than my first option.
The corsa also has big ass potential.
Now you see I was hoping that the banks would leave me with no other choice but to take the corsa and thus make this librans life easier.
However My man Murphy and I have not yet sorted out our differences and he made an appearance when the bank granted me loans for all three the cars.

So my head and my heart went forty rounds and in the end my logical stingy nature won through and I took the Corsa.
I told myself that at least I could have black.
I called the dealer and put in my order
HA HA HA
Murphy had obviously still had a score to settle
"You cant have black" the salesman said "no black"
"okay I'll have blue or silver" I replied
"we have white" the salesman said and dissolved all illusions that I had about having choice when you buy a new car.
I now own an arctic white Corsa.
At least the hand break works.

On Friday it was my sisters birthday, So I spent the night with the girls for a change. However Laura has been attached to Willem for the past 6months and I haven't found out how to dis attach them yet. My sister was PMS'ing so I stayed away, besides I still want to kill her boyfriend so I thank god for small miracles. Kerry.... well Kerry is just Kerry. she pitched up in her cool ass punk outfit, insulted Willem, posed for pics then left.

On Saturday S.A played Tonga In the world cup.
Willem myself and Laura took up residence under the fan for the match and it wasn't long before I was swearing like old sailor with a boil on his but.
we won only just.....
and I have decided that I need anger management classes and someone to come take the remote out of the TV screen where its been lodged since Saturday
Bluddy Tonga

Johaness

2007-09-19T06:33:00.000-07:00

At around two in the afternoon my phone rang "Gummie bears" at me.
"Hallo" I answered and heard a bit of a spitting sound on the other end of the line and then my moms voice.
"Lee; Johaness is dead, I found him"
I responded with shock and dismay.

I am relating this to you to illustrate how random life is. And because talking and writing is my way of venting.
Since this happened yesterday the deamons that croud my mind are still roudy and lifely enough to make an impression.

Let me start at the verry beging.
Johaness is our gardener or "estate manager" as my dad used to call him.
He came to us 15 years ago looking for employment.
Johanness had grown up on a farm in "Hamanskraal" and had no formal education in his life.
He had grown up pre 1994 and perhaps his life was the result of the turbulant political climate of the time.
He was not a young man then and I will never forget Johaness solemly promising that he did not take to the drink and limited himself to one beer a day. We would latter establish that he infact did limit himself to 30 beers a month but neglected to mention his tendancy to consume al 30 beers in the 2 days after pay day.
My dad, having the strange sens of humar he did, found this very amusing and accepted the fact that Johaness was useless for at least the first 5 days after pay day.

Johaness spent a good chunk of his life on our plot and after he burnt the house he had built for himself down around him, my mother promptly moved him into a more stable, less flamible residance nearer to our house, so that she could keep an eye on him and make sure that he doesnt kill himself.

Johanes's favourite pas time was sawing wood.
He enjoyed this, above all, because it was work he could do sitting down and when the need arose he could rest his head on the bow saw for forty winks.
Naturally he would jump up and attack the wood with vigour the moment my moms car entered the driveway.

At some point my mother forced him to take leave as the law required it.
15 days of leasure were apointed to him and he was sent to his kaya (house) to serve them.
With Little grace Johaness retired to his enforced leave and we did not see him for a day.
On the second day he took a long strole around the garden and weeded here and there as whent (my mom also stopped him from weeding latter as he didn't know the diferance between a weed and a flower)
By the third day he was back at his wood chopping post swearing at every mention of leave that was suggested.
Something about damning the government to hell... and all that.

Mom also installed a coal stove in his house to make cooking easier on the old man.
the novilty of the contraption never caught on and he draged the drum fire back inside and proceeded the way he always had.

When he got sick mom took him to the doc who sugested he be put in hospital for observation.
Johanes registered his distaste in this sugestion by spitting and swearing at the doc.
I have never in my life understood a word the old zulu said as he has a verry high pitched voice and speakes a mix of afrikaans and zulu at the speed of summer lightning.
However my mom left the doc's room red faced with a perscription with the Johaness in tow shaking his head and waving his arms furiosly.
My dad thought that this was grand sport.

When Dad died, Johaness tore his cloths and cried as hard as any of us, before disapearing into the bushes for three days.
In a way I feel most sorry for him.
My dad had provided work and a home for him, he had no other family or familiers other than our family and he never registed as important in the moarning stages. After dad's death.
My mom gave Johaness my dad's old militry uniform and Johaness wore it ever Sunday after that.

A little while ago Johaness was forced into retirement.
My mom did not have the heart to make him move off the property as he had nowhere to go and no family or friends to take care of him.
She helped him open a bank acount to save his pention.
She bought his food making sure that he had meat and veggies.
When he had saved enough my mom helped him buy a bycicle.

However time was starting to weigh heavy on the body of a man who knew nothing of the world.
Johaness developed very high blood presure and respetory problems. Naturally he refused the hospital and my mom had to show him how to use an asthma pump.

On Thursday last week my mom and Hilton left for Durban Mom said goodbey to him and left him with strickt instructions as to when and how to take his med's.

On Saturday DW and walked around his house and herd his TV playing.
We presumed he was fine

Yesterday my mom when to greet the old man and give him some special meat she had braught from Upingtone and found him dead.

Mom said hes face had started to melt and mortify.
the coriner said he must have been dead for 4 days by then.

We are arranging for him to be buiried but there is no body to tel.

What Kind of Movie would my life be

2007-09-17T22:54:00.000-07:00

I found this on Etains Blog and tried it out

The Movie Of Your Life Is An Indie Flick

You do things your own way - and it's made for colorful times.
Your life hasn't turned out how anyone expected, thank goodness!

Your best movie matches: Clerks, Garden State, Napoleon Dynamite

If Your Life Was a Movie, What Genre Would It Be?

"Blogging without obligation"

2007-09-12T01:37:00.000-07:00

My return to cyber space has been marred by the fact that some terrible plague has ravaged the planes of the net, reducing S.A. blogger to a near trickle.
This must have happened around June as the last post date like tomb stones.
I agree that I am not exempt from blame as my absence left my very own blog in a state of ruin.
Anyway I have missed my blog so much, I can no longer stand having all my alter egos banging for an outlet all at once, the noise is just unbearable.

So I have decided that I will keep blogging regardless of weather anybody reads it or not, I am in the process of convincing myself that if nobody reads it I have no reason to maintain a reader base and can, thus, write and post whatever tickles my fancy. Not that I wasn't inclined to do that in the first place.

I may even invite my family to read it, however the prospect of being disinherited and giving my grandad a heart attack is deterring me from that rout.
while my family is well aware of the fact that I am as stable as a Molotov cocktail they might not yet have grasped the extent of my impediment.
I also fear that my spelling my encourage them to send me back to the seats of higher learning.

I can now post more of my poetry.
In the past I refrained from posting alot of my works because ultimately it makes for bad conversation pieces in the comments.
I can run around posting just pics if I so choose or post more than once a day.

By the way I have also payed some attention to the right hand space on my screen, I intend to fill that space up and my newest addition is a virtual fish tank.
I have three 80's inspired fish swimming around my screen, I call then Stinky,Scab and Bill. go click on them, their cool.

Ag who am I kidding I am a people person I want my blog buddies back!

VOTE FOR ETAIN

2007-09-11T01:44:00.001-07:00

This is Etain.
Etain is my blogger buddy and she is also one of the most talented young writers I know.
So Today I want you guys to do two things for me .
one: click the link BOO on the right hand side of this page, the link will direct you to her blog where you can read some of her work.
Two: go to http://www.take2max.com/writing/ and vote for her entry.
This will only take a little while and in the end you will be able to pat yourself on the back for doing your bit to make Etain's dreams of being a big deal writer come true.

By the way the last time I checked Etain was ahead in the competition so at least your backing a winner

VOTE FOR ETAIN ITS THE RIGHT THING TO DO

Babies Back

2007-09-10T03:10:00.000-07:00

It is amazing how much can change in just a small while.
I have been gone from our small little blogging community for only a little while and so much has changed.
I suppose the most obvious change is the migration from Blogging to Face book.
I have missed my blog so much and am not yet enchanted by the face book rage so I am gonna hang out here a little while longer.
Please note that I am in no way stating that I will never go Face book because I also thought blogging was stupid at some point.

I have also changed and since I saw you guys last I have added a very significant piece of jewelry to my person.
yes ladies and germs the Stiffla and I have gotten engaged and in a little more than a year we will be married.
Naturally Grem and the boys were at hand to celebrate the occasion with the needed vigour.
my conversion to full blown Noe pagan is complete. its been coming for a long time and I have finally admitted it.
I am now occupying my second job and this is the reason for my return to the cyber world.
its almost an office job but not quite.
I am still in financing and I still do home loans but now I also facilitate rental financing for anything from office automation to potter potties

I love my new job even though its in bedford view and I have to brave giloolies every day.

either way thats me for now I will post some pics of the ring and the house and stuff soon
And just to let you know that I have not missed that many of your posts. I have tried to read as much as I could even thought the speed on my GPRS was to slow to post.

Love you all lots and I am so glad to be back

hung Out To Dry

2007-04-05T08:44:00.000-07:00

I wrote this in Afrikaans because the language carries more taboo than open minded English ever will while at the same time maintaining a fearless sorrow.

Hahahaha
Nah I’m shitting you… just wrote in afrikaans because I never do.
By the way the piece has no application, it was just written about this girl who committed suicide by hanging herself on the school grounds after stripping naked and cutting herself.
Call this my back period

Die geluide wat daar uit gekom het was soos ou water pype.
So ‘n snak snak na lug….
‘n suis en dan ‘n fluit soos haar lee longe hul dors probeer less…
maar die gordel van haar skool broek het teen die yl blou grys vel in haar nek gesny en stywer en stywer die flees fandel van hulpeloosheid van die netbaal paal gehang.
Peodel nakend kaal gill die geteerde ligaam die woorde wat niemand wou hoor.

Son stralle koester sag sag te vergeefs.
Sys uitgehang en vergeet
En die son se hell pyle sal nooit haar siel kan smelt, want soos piccaso is sy geskilder met kwas hale van pappa se liefde, ligte steekies op klein gewriggies waar doctor nie haar hart kon heel, en vlees wonde waar die pyn moes uit.

En daar het sy gehang.
Toegedraai in die winter genaade van omvattende donker

force fed suicide

2007-03-25T06:45:00.000-07:00

I have never felt air as heavy as that.
In the nights that followed I could not sleep under its weight, I could feel it encapsulating my body in its malignant filth.
Was it the impending death that polluted that winter nigh or was it the unfathomable things I had seen.
Some questions, I suppose, are made to linger (the Gods have a nack for the theatrical)

It was slight hysterics that cracked on the two way, a request for medical help. The paramedics, they said, wouldn’t touch him.
In our haste to fetch the doctor and take him to the boy neither myself nor Johan had imagined what we would be faced with.
In hine sight I imagine that the word suicide was yet to be defined in such tangible graphic terms in minds that attach foot notes of movie scenes to such a situations.

There were flowers laid out behind the car and he had locked his dog in with him. “he didn’t want to die alone.” People said
I was younger then and could not fathom how the prospect of death was less intimidating than being alone, this, I would only learn to understand this years to come.
People said many things and they still do.
Culers and Koeksissters on off chance run ins regurgitate a distortion of colored in details.
“Oh but he was gay you know”
“They say they found drugs on him”
In unison they shake their heads and rub their chins each one a better informant then the other.

But it was a different picture that tragedy painted that night.
Such a young body with his head slumped forward onto his chest, the light in the car port was stark white and chemical to my horror widened eyes.
A little dark trickle painted the back of his neck and the hair colorant coagulated in clumps in his hair.

When the doctor rushed past me and moved the cop out of the way I caught a glimps of the medic as he leaned against the van.
His face was set and his eyes unmoved.
Mechanically he answered the onlookers pleas for help.
“ I told you before lady, his a suicide the medical aid doesn’t cover it, you have to wait for the other ambulance”
it twisted my mind to the point pain to imagine a life that would kill a heart like that and I felt sorry for him.

When I breathed again the sickness about it stuck to my skin.
They had moved the boys body onto the ground.
1…2…3… Now blow 1…2…3..Now blow
It was slight at first and then it came in thunderstorms.
Under Johans hands the boys chest convulsed and jumped as it sucked in gasps of air.
Then it when still and he opened his eyes.
Where am I? he gasped at me
“Your home your going to be alright” my best efforts could not have hidden it from him
“where’s my dog is he okay?” he asked in a stronger voice
“His fine, his in the house”
then the purple framed eyes misted again and he cried harder than I have ever seen.
No No No he shouted and moved fast.
Lifting his head up and banging it down on the floor.
Holding his breath it became clear that the cry fro help my have been a serious attempt to harm himself.
He would pass out from lack of breath, wake and do it all again and again.

It sat there like cancer on my spine for nights to come, it left shadows on my mind as I tried to imagine how completely consumed he was by grief that it would drive him to that.
I concluded then that I didn’t have the capacity to feel that big….
But, again, I was young and would still grow to respect heart ace for all her destructive magic

I saw the boy the other day
As he drove by he smiled and waved
He passed and he was just like many other people in my life for a moment. A smile a face a voice.
Meat and bone and not a thought more than that.

Dead of day

2007-03-19T02:27:00.000-07:00

Have you ever woken up
To die a thousand times
Was the sin of slumber
The sweetest of illusions

Have you fought against the light
Just for seconds in his arms
Just to taste the sweet poison
Of nights changing joy

Has it cut through your skin
To see the morning dawn
And do your dreams bleed for you
With old hurts
That sting today

Stop my breath
Because with morning he dies again

20/03/07-

Slave in my mind

2007-03-06T21:46:00.000-08:00

This is an attempt to let the civilized world know that I am still here
Its my cyber S.O.S from the vast deserted dessert of GPRS.

My plans to resign took an interesting turn and instead of cutting all ties with the company I worked for I am still affiliated with them in a very complicated way that I am yet to get my head around.
I am now the struggling, dead broke, tired and over worked owner of a Bond Origination company.
As I explained before this is a hard company to start as it demands all your time and energy to start but does not generate an income for many months.
I am also battling with infrastructure at the moment.
I am working from home right now.
This is nice for some people but working from home in Nestpark means that your phone lines only work 2months in a year.
This is attributed to the bustling trade in copper wire that thrives in our underground.
After the lines were stolen and replaced 3 times in the last few Months Telkom has given up and I have been told that they don’t plan to replace the lines at all this time. “Sit tight” they said “we’re going wireless”.
Good Luck with that!
Problem is that this will only happen at the end of next month, bringing my chances of Fats fabulous broad band ADSL to zip.
I am now running a webmail e-mail and fax to mail fax line from my cell phones very delicate GPRS connection.
It also seems that every printer I approach registers it dislike in my character by spitting out every document in blotchy crumpled messes.
Thank you very Bloody much.
I now pay Post net 7 bucks a pop for A4 color prints.

I am also, after making 50 phone calls to Estate agents in a fruitless attempt to market my little campaign, in the process of rethinking my marketing strategy.
I have decided that even telemarketers hate telemarketers and my telephonic efforts have made me sound like a telemarketer and thus I have no ground to blame the sorry sods that turned me down.
I am currently rethinking things and plan to think out of the box as soon as things get organized enough for the box to be located.

On the bright side of things.
I do have two meetings set up with two rather big estate agents.
These meetings feel like job interviews and I feel it would be much simpler if everybody just saved time and presumed that I know everything.
However until such enlightenment reaches the other elements of this market I will just have to grin and bare it.

At least Stiffla still follows orders as he should.
He has recently taken a great liking to the song De La Rey, I am terribly proud of this fact and so I only swear at him a little when he laughs at mine and Ducklings heated fights.
For those of you who don’t know… Duckling is my car.
Well at least that’s the generally accepted term.
Duckling doesn’t have rims nor does she have hub caps. She rides on rusty shitty looking wheels wrapped in rubber of discernable origin in the thickest profile I have ever come across
I could tell you that commuting in the sorry thing was a protest against stereotyping as this creamy colored Golf is the last thing people expect me to drive.
Unfortunately I doubt that there is any moral or political ploy I could use that carries enough weight to explain this.
You see Stiffla is not concerned with the fact that the front and rear bumper don’t match in color or model. He is not even concerned with the fact that Duckling doesn’t have a radio (not cd player, radio my friend) and the only sound you get to enjoy is the volksie beetle like buzz of her ill kept engine.
No Stiffla derives his pleasure from the cars most obvious incarnation of its dislike for me…. Its doors
The handles have been changed twice to no avail.
You see out of the four doors on the car it is the drivers door that will not open from the outside.
Meaning that I have to clamber in the passenger side (when I am in public I pretend that I have a reason for this behavior) and open the drivers door from the inside, run around the car and then get in.
This routine is better than trying to lift the door of its hinges to unlatch the bloody latch, because I am often confronted by car guards accusing me of attempting theft.
This often ends in me having to explain to the car guard that, considering the shape of the car, it is a bloody cheek to ask for a tip and that they should rather pay me to remove the car from their premises.

The silver lining is in the fact that Stiffla owns an OPC with a Turbo that refuses to boost and has to go in for a looking at.
While the OPC is in for repairs Stiffla is left with no alternative and will be forced into Ducklings company for a day
RA-RA

Well look there that was actually a post
Ill be……

P.S. I doubt that I will have time to comment on everybody’s blogs everyday for a
While so all I can do is promise to try and get around to everybody soon

Peace peeps

Screw Vista

2007-02-22T22:29:00.000-08:00

Microsoft recently braught out Vista and while the world hase been raving about how efficiently it does the job I am left wanting more.
Now (thanks to Ptozac) I have found a version of office that suites my needs.
have a look!

death of a soul

2007-02-20T22:15:00.000-08:00

I am having another of those tragic days.
I can’t write.
I can’t string three words together.
I published my first work at the tender age of thirteen and now when I have lead a life worthy of these lofty ballads I can’t put a single word to verse.
It’s a sin. My dad is turning in his grave!

I realized something tonight while I stared blankly into the pixels of this terribly small monitor, I realized that I know why I can’t write.
It didn’t take months of soul searching or meditation, it didn’t require a single session at a shrink or even vast amounts of vodka.
All it took was one of those rare moments of reflection that passes so fast that you can’t lie to yourself.
In this single split second I remembered telling a song writer that in the real world money always triumphs over love, I remember telling a lover to be realistic and I remember telling myself that to hurt is weak.
And in that single passing instant I knew that when I drove the idealist from myself I drove with it love hope and heart. I killed the feeling that fed a human soul until it became easy to rely only on my opinions and logic to feed only my mind.

I just stumbled upon the true meaning of tragedy.
Its like death in a way, when you dye your soul departs and leaves just a shell, a physical vessel that the earth ultimately claims

I had a great love once
But I never tell you about it because I fear the force of a broken heart.
I never tell you that he had chubby hands and that he bit his nails.
I don’t write about how he sacrificed new underwear to shine his bike.
I don’t blog about his funeral and the red roses on his coffin for fear that hysterical confusion of utter and complete loneliness may swallow me again.
I have not committed a word to paper about how, when they found the accident he had his arms around me and how they had to pry my little sister from his body because she didn’t understand why the medics weren’t seeing to him anymore.

I had a hero once
My dad had a good heart and wonderful mind.
I never grew out of thinking that my dad could do anything,
He always understood me because, they said, your just like your dad.
But I haven’t written that he had bushy hair or that he had no wrinkles only smile lines.
He called me princess and told me not split ends.
I never say out loud that I still come home and wish he were there for me to test my new theories on, how I wish for his open minded intelligent answers.
My dad was a lecturer, the best you’d ever find (and Grem will agree) he gave everything for his students. Neighbors called him doctor Bernade because he took in and cared for every stray youth who came around.
And there is not a word doc nor a piece of paper that erupts with my feelings of how unfair it was that it was kid that killed him that night. A kid in mommies new Beemer who only had a learners.
I don’t say these things and I simply cant write them because I don’t let myself feel these thing
Emotion is weakness I don’t allow myself or those around me

And deeper the rabbit hole still gets
I have a great love now.
And I don’t have the courage to shout from the rooftops that I love him.

I wish I had “moral of the story” ending to this blog or that I could tell you that now that I understood it I could change it.
But truth be told I have no intention of deviating from my emotionally detached views, as they protect me.
I will simply let live those who are lucky enough to afford the luxury of idealism.
Perhaps one day I will face the demons inside, but for now I will only let the monsters of the mind scare me enough to inspire.
After all, as I said to Etain, The writer needs the pain

Real lifes great revenge

2007-02-20T03:03:00.000-08:00

To think that it was this side of six months ago that I was an obsessive blogger.
My thoughts were consumed with idees about what to blog, I religiously read all the bloggs I possibly could and at the end of the day could discuss little els then my new found sureal social experiences.
Unfortunatly real life also reads my bloggs and shortly after posting that real life is less interasting than my book, the bugger pitched up and kicked me in the ass.

Suddenly my tranquil little exsistance was bombarded with revalations, mood swings and big life changing choises.

I found out that a persone that I thought to have moral fiber was using me as a scape goat for her mistakes, she had done this before, earlier in the year and I had let it go after proving my innocents, but February had not yet ended when she tried it again and this time it pissed me off.
Unfortunatly the woman is to some extent my superior and for my word to hold sway, I have to bitch to the bosss a hundred times threaten to leave the company and then fill out a written complaint in triplicat.
I will let you know as soon as this profesional cat fight reaches some form of consenses.

My job hunt is also taking some interasting turns.
You see I am set on staying in the home loans industry but I intend to elevate my position in the industry, I figure I have done the dirty work of others long enough to be an expert.
In the space of a week I have been offered two positions in my chosen field, one of which is an opurtunity to start my own company.
It is a verry secure proposal and the initial outlay will cost me a few phone calls and a few liters of petrol.
This to say the least is promissing, however nothing is without its snaggs.
You see to take advantage of this I have to leave my job because of conflickting interasts. I have no problem to do this at the moment!
But in origination you only get paid on bonds that have registered at the deeds office meaning that my little company will at best only generate an income in three months

Those three months is where the problem lies.
I have comitments, rent, accounts, a cell bill and a mobile scrap yard that chews emense amount of petrol to keep me driven.
Thus I am putting myself in short term danger for my long term goals still asking if its all worth it

This my friends is Real lifes great revenge

PS: If any one of you tel me to follow my heart I will most likely birth an reindear.
I need logic people idealism has no place in business

PPS: Not only has blogger gone ahead and changed my header to that baby shit mustard colour but it has also taken my spell checker away and unveiled the fact that the only thing worse than my spelling is grems grammer.
So live with it dammit

Back on trac

2007-02-12T05:59:00.001-08:00

After and short absence that I plan to blame on work related stresses, I am back.
Did you miss me?
Okay I promissed myself to post more than once this week and to catch up on the comments I missed today and friday.

As far as weekends are concerned this one was blast by the way.

As Duckling and I pulled up the driveway on friday afternoon there was a loud appeal that came from the fieldsmen in the bottom garden.
The match was already in full swing.
When I opened the gate I herd the batsman protest mentioning something about the wicket keeper being shorter than the bat and boundry lines made up of tree stumps and thus LBW's cant be taken into account.
I had a good giggle at them and whent to umpire the game in my stelleto heels.
Almost all the regulars were there and only the grem was amis (not that he plays cricket)
Since Stiffla got that cricket set theres sure to be some form of day night on the Parker lawn.
We had italion food for dinner and watched movies and played computer games (an activity that I cant seem to escape)

Saturday braught along with it the aneversary of Willem ( Stifflas brother) birth. we had planned a small quite get together, nothing big and nothing extravagant. Crystal and I baked a pink cake and marinated meat.
Fortunatly our parties are never subdued affaires and when Dan-louis dragged out the strings the party all of a sudden snow balled
There was red wine enough to keep dan-louis myslef and the grem ,who dragged his but over for the ocation, in running supply.
I still dont know where the wine came from or when the neighbors pitched up but thats what happened.
Dan louis sang then I joined in and before long we were commisioned to entertain on st patricks day.

At some point Grem and I decided that there would have to be a blog meet soon.
So guys this is a call to all Gauteng bloggies, I will supply the venue and you guys bring your "tjop, dop and skrop". Bring friends too.
I will let you guys know about a time latter. next month some time....
just give me a prelim yay or nay K.
Donsie Chantelle and Grem have no excuse.

Kay peeps sorry bout this but I must go again.

New Peeps

2007-02-07T04:01:00.000-08:00

MySpace Glitter Graphics

Well I was sitting here listening to the pregnant girl and the noisy one talk about baby names, wondering what to post about...
Then Stiffla pitched up and gave me a damn good reason to spot (see I know I would find some use for him. His created a new blog because blogger screwed the last one up
hes at
http://stiffla.blogspot.com

I also have another person to introduce to you
Go have a look at Alleks blog its at
http://thinkwritedospeak.blogspot.com

I am into the glitter thing at the moment and I think I am turning into a girl. To hide this fact I have chosen the most subtil glitter for this post
when things go all pink you can start worrying

2007-02-06T22:26:00.000-08:00

Monday moments of reflection

2007-02-05T04:25:00.000-08:00

Its monday again, and I am about to start petitioning the 4 day work week.
Nothing at the salt mine has changed, other than Prozak, who is teaching herself the fine art of bullshit.
I anticipate that the status quo may not change unless I can somehow spike the water cooler with vodka...
This I suppose is my life.
I have almost finished my book and I dread the last page. I always do... ending a book means that I have to pay attention to the real world... since there are no antimatter terorist attacs to rescue the vatican from in the real world I always end up mildly disapointed.
I plan to use the above as an excuse for teaching myself to play PC games... yes I fear that the darkside may be strong with me.
Speaking of the darkside... they did it again.
Darth (Stiffla) arranged another LAN night and I was surprised to see that the geek comunity that invaded my tranquil home on a regular basis had mushroomed and before I could whipe the shit from my eyes there were no less than 8 PC set up in my living room.
They took all of 11 minutes to transform my organised little world into a NASA controll room.
They played counter strike or something like that
I shot at Stiffla
Having not yet satisfied my new craving for first person shooter thingies I joined in when they started Serius sam
I Shot at Stiffla (they give you bigger guns in this game so I shot at him alot)
Then they told me that since I was on Stifflas team I could not shoot him
I told them that I was board and whent outside to look after the braai fire

Oh yes valintines day is coming up.
So as of tomorrow I plan to post nothing but depressing things in contempt for this pointless day.
I also baught Stiffla a knife for valintines day and gave it to him early in protest
HAHAHAHA eat that st Valintine

I will post the pics of the weekend on the other blog tomorrow because stiffla has been screwing with my computer, I now have a 2gig thingamajig with 80meg of hard drive (I think) that can circum navigate the globe in one foul swoop and make the hublle whatseface look like a dinki dino, Unfortunatly however my wonder PC doesnt have the camera software loaded yet.
I plan not to feed Stffla for a while and then bribe him into action with a piece of potatoe.
Sooner or later thet bugger will load what I need onto the pc and then do what I need him to with the software stuffies

Viva la Geeecks

I have also been checking Grems blog every five minutes for news on his weekend he needs potatoe treatment too

Am I talking shit....?
Damn better give you guys something to comment on
Okay in the comments tell me what you did with your weekend, what your fav PC game is or bash Valintines day

Peace out peeps

2007-02-02T04:30:00.000-08:00

So today I told Valerie that I would never show any of my co-workers my blog for fear of death by burning... after saying that I proptly set about contradicting myself.
Say Hi to PROZAC guys.
Prozac and I pretend to work together....
the rest of the stuff youl learn from her blog
Go have a look its at
http://hypocricyofdelerium.blogspot.com

Peace out peeps

The unlikely Beautifull

2007-02-01T05:35:00.000-08:00

I Bitch a lot
I know this
I have put on my big girl panties and dealt with the fact that I am the hanus bitch of the origination world.
But today I plan to shock the world by admitting that I recently had an aaaaaaag sweeet moment.

Two of the woman in our office are very pregnant, so naturally the whole office have googled their fingers to the bone for baby names and baby cloths and baby brickabrack......
Myself excluded naturally.
I love babies ,granted, but in my opinion there are enough cars and helter-scelter littering the net to keep me occupied long enough that I don't have time to ponder pudding faced fetuses.

And then it happened
One of the girls brought in her sonar photographs in and I when puppy eyed.
There he was little "Dante" (or at least that's what his name is this week) floating like and astronaut in space, waiting for his giant leap.
I realised then that despite the fact that "pregnant girl" has swollen feet and a bad temper now (oh and she still spends so much time in the loo that I have considered moving her telephone there) come the middle of May she will be a great part of little miracle, and in this way the swollen belly that she curses everyday is beautifully.

Now all of a sudden I have been bombarded by the unlikely beautifully.
The sudden friendships I have formed with people that I have never met, the sudden friendships that I have formed with my co-workers due to the fact that they need a rock.

there are thousands of silly little things that I have seen and that people have said that strike me as nice or pretty in the most ironic ways.

What have you guys seen recently that's beautifully?

Photo blog

2007-01-31T02:14:00.000-08:00

Hey there guys

This is just to let you guys know that I have started a Photo-blog you can find it at http://faithfatal.blogspot.com. You will see that this blog has a new template and is the only evidence of my successfully blog modification.

I will post all the extra pics of everything there so you can see

Buddha Got the wrong adress

2007-01-30T00:24:00.000-08:00

Just when you guys thought that you were rid of me I return from the mind boggling depths of blog templates to regale you with a another of my dull-as dogs-water stories.

By this time you know that I do believe in the devine but unlike Christians I dont believe in a text book version of a devine being, I believe that each believe system in their own possesses a element of truth and I will never presume to tell a person that their god is not the true god.

I respect all peoples and their believes and strive to better understand the religions of the world.

It is for this reason that on occasion I visit a Chinese temple near Bronkhorstspruit. Its a beautifully serene place and when you walk the Hals of the beautifull buildings you feel like you have been transported to another place and time.

This weekend I took Stiffla, the Grem and Joan down there as they toO are fascinated by the culture.

Whilst there, I was prompted by a monk to offer my name to the Buddha of meditation. I was given a slip of intricately folded paper to keep in my I.D book, and had to write my name on another slip and lay it at the Buddhas feet.

I was told that the Buddha would now smile on me and bring me good fortune.

It was a nice tradition but I believe that the Buddha got the wrong address when delivering his good fortune because the very next day Stiffla received word that he had won an x-box 360 in a competition

Lucky bastard

Anyway we dedicated the rest of the day to eastern culture and ate at a Chinese restaurant with chop sticks.

I have pics that I will post up soon for your enjoyment

PS: The said temple will be celebrating their new year on the 18th of feb. Those who can make it should come and see.

Its gonna be fun.

BLOG TEMPLATES

2007-01-25T01:05:00.000-08:00

There are a few questions that will burden the minds of man for years to come such as:

-Why is abbreviation such a long word

-Is the pope a Catholic

-whats better to scratch in, your nose or your year

and last but not least

-how the hell do you load a different template to your blog without screwing everything up?

It is the latter that has of late had me pulling my hair from its follicles.

I am no computer junkie and to date my HTML knowledge is limited to how to cut and paste code to places where it says HTML CODE HERE!

I have found one or two templates that are to my liking and I saved these until such time as I am able to load them to my blog correctly.

I have followed the blogger instructions and still messed it up.

So I need help!

give me a hand guys !

It pays

2007-01-24T00:34:00.000-08:00

Stiffla and I have been together for close to a year now. We live together and are the proud parents of two spoilt cats.
But when it comes to financial arrangements we don't let love and emotion cloud better judgements.
All our joint expenses are split right down the middle, we share costs such as rent, groceries and utilities.
Each of us are responsible for our personal costs such as medical aids and petrol.

But what happens when established lines have not been drawn?
Picture this....
First date, You've just finished dinner and the bill arrives at your table.
What do you do.
Its the twenty first century after all so does the guy pay does the girl pay or do you split the bill.
Personally I think splitting the bill on the first date is tacky, I do believe though that the girl should offer to pay.
So this is the dilemma!
I understand that many girls will declare that they don't mind to pay and quite honestly neither do I but if I were really presented with a situation where your date sat and actually worked out my share of the bill I may think twice before accepting an offer for a second date.

My solution is that the person who suggests the activity should bare the financial burden. but that's just me...
Tel me what you guys think or let me know if you have ever been caught in that situation.
I especially want the guys opinion on it

Behind the Veil

2007-01-23T02:38:00.000-08:00

I am a woman and proud to be.
I went to school and got an education as it was a right my great grand mother fought for.
I vote at every election as I know there are many woman who are still denied the right to have a say in their country's (and ultimately their own) future.
I am the equal of my male counterpart and I will not be oppressed.
I have freedom to dress as I please and say what I mean without the fear of persecution.

As I triumphantly make this declaration, I realise how often and easily one takes these simple rights for granted, and today as I read again the story of Jamila I was urged to slap myself on the writs for being as inconsiderate.

Jamila was an Afghan woman who attempted to flee her home with an male stranger. Unfortunately Jamila was caught in the act by her husband and charged with adultery.
Sadly Afghanistan was still bent under Taliban law and Jamila was sentenced to death by stoning.
Her death was slow we can only imagine excruciatingly painfully.
Her husband who had shot and killed Jamilas alleged lover would only spend 12 years in prison.

During the time of Taliban rule ,that only recently ended in 2001, the laws woman had to abide by surpassed any opression I have ever heard of.
Woman were forced to where a Barqu which covered them from head to toe and only provided a Small patch of mesh-like material to see through.
A woman who unveiled her face or ankles could face a prison sentence.
Woman were prohibited from walking the towns unescorted and were not allowed to work or go to school.
In war torn Afghanistan woman who were widowed had to resort to begging to support themselves and their families.

Now years latter the laws have changed but actual change is slow and hundreds of girls and woman are still living in unthinkable conditions.
Many have missed years of schooling and many of the woman in the country are illiterate.

This is my happy thought for the day.
I can read, I can vote, I can work, I have rights and my children will be born to a world where they have the same privileges.
No matter how bad things are in South-Africa we should always remember that they can be so much worse

Peace out Peeps

Blogg Whore

2007-01-22T03:36:00.000-08:00

I have been threatening to do this for a while... So this morning I flaked (all resistance crumbled) and I made the list...
I am currently updating my link list as there are a few blogs that I would like to share with you guys.
You see I am a bit of a blog whore and when I have the time I surf everybody's links and in doing so I have found a few really interesting people with great stories to tel.
I am gonna add them all to my link list and perhaps they will become part of your daily blog requirements too.

PS: I promise to write a real blog when I'm done