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
4 comments:
mwhaaaaaaaahahahahahaha so now you have a treadmill story too!!! oh boy, funny stuff right there.
I knew I had a good reason to avoid the treadmill at all cost!! and I cannot believe you still ate that curry. a little goes a long way with that stuff...and as much as I love curry, the idea of eating a batch of curry powder is gross.
See, that is a good reason to avoid treadmills! Sorry dear, I hope you are healing well.
As to cooking, I'm a picky bitch and refuse to eat Poor Bills attempts at dinner, so, I am the house chef. I would rather do it myself than attempt to stomach his idea of food.
Good luck with curry night!
teehee, very funny lee!
i am glad will and stiffla cook too- and having someone to give lessons is a bonus.
as for the gym... costume shops sell some pretty decent wigs and fake beards and such- you're just going to die of the heat if you wear a disguise- and a droopy wig is so unattractive...!!!
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