Slave in my mind

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