Friday, December 14, 2007

Having made it to the end of the year...

... I can totally relate to how Garfield feels in this strip.

Monday, November 19, 2007

In honor of the girls' lingerie party last Thursday...

... a few solo-nookie positions for those who'd like to try out their new toys.


Thursday, November 08, 2007

Where in the world is Carmen Miranda?

‘Ssup peops!
Life is just a crazy whirlwind of activity and fun for me right now... So much so that I haven’t had much time to write/blog. I’m pretty sure that my devoted blog readers are devastated that I haven’t kept in touch. All four of you must be falling to pieces... *snigger*
But anyway...
Here (in a nutshell!) is what Carmen Miranda’s been up to lately:
1. Boys
Well... One in particular! Between building a desk for his room (Plumber’s Butt and all - him, not me!), extolling the greatness of jazz on the sofa with closed eyes and faces filled with reverence as we listen to the greats, killing mozzies, partying like rockstars, chatting on gmail, having the most intense/serious conversations (like on his favorite music: “Why DOES it sound like Blade and the other vampires are having a show-down in your livingroom?”), pretending to be bad-asses to the sounds of gansta-rap, and making killer salads to be washed down with Woolies’ Juicy Red... there’s not much time for anything else! It’s all good. :-)
2. Church Stuff
This is a time of serious personal growth for me as far as my spirituality is concerned. New influences in my life have introduced me to a whole new understanding of God/Religion/Worship etc. While I consider myself to be a deeply spiritual person, it’s always nice to meet a new influence or two, who challenge you to reawaken the parts of your spiritual life that might be lagging or dormant. I’m enjoying gaining a viewpoint/appreciation outside of my realm of understanding of and experiences with Christianity. The pic of the stained glass window above is from the chapel at St Theresa’s in Sydenham. We were there on Sunday for a thanksgiving mass for the family... Old school is cool.
3. Trance Parties
Continuing along the theme of “church”, I’ve also been worshipping in the Church Of The Ministry Of Sound lately! (heh heh heh...) My mates got onto a mailing list and now we get sent an invitation to a trance party that’s held every month end at a different location. The first one was on the beach, - just beautiful watching the sun come up over the sea... Sigh! And the last one was in a “club” in Durban, where I managed to leave both my name and reputation. (Ug!)
4. Book club
Monday night saw the completion of our first “round” of bookclub, ie. all eight of us have now had a turn to “host” a bookclub. I had the most incredible prawn and asparagus linguini with a few crumbed mussels on top... But I think there might have been something in it that triggered and allergy of some sort, because by the time I got home, my face was completely itchy, ALL OVER! Ouch. (Maybe I’m becoming allergic to seafood. NO! That would be just too terrible...) Between the drinking and gossiping we did manage to do a massive spring-clean on the book basket, turfing out all the books that nobody wants to read and throwing in a few new ones... We’ll be getting together next month for a very special Christmas Bookclub and in the new year we’re looking forward a whole new bunch of books and possibly a different way of doing things, just to keep things fresh and exciting...

... And of course, there’s always my wonderful family, beautiful friends, awesome work/place and Beena...
Life’s good. Really good.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

New additions to the publicaddress: family...

The boys at publicaddress: have been quite busy getting married and making babies...
So I thought I'd treat you to pics of the two latest little people on our team. Meet Sophie Ambrose Potterton, Wayne's little girl...

And Bailey Rachel Williams, Oliver's princess.

And watch this space for Rein's little angel who's due in a couple of months!
Boy... There must be something in the water here! We're churning out babies like nobody's business. Sheesh.

The rain in Spain falls mainly on my new white sneakers!

As you can see from this sorry pic, it was a rained out ABF Golf Day this year. Normally by lunchtime the golf course has turned into a modern day Sodom and Gomorrah, with drunk "golfers" doing tequila body shots off semi-naked ho's at the various sponsored holes. The rain meant that the debauchery started a little later. It took everyone a little longer to "warm up" with all the free booze everywhere!
Fortunately, I got out of it about 4 glasses of cheap wine in, and made it safely to My Boy's place... where the drinking continued!
Box wine at the Golf Day + Good Scotch at My Honey's place = One-helluva-cross-eyed-me!

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Sia, Buttons.

I've watched this video for "Buttons" by Sia on YouTube like... a MILLION times already and I just can't get enough!
The song is killer enough, right?
... But the thing that I love about it, is the crazy-clever-cool way they've put the music video together. A locked-off camera, Sia, some sticky tape, a couple of pegs, an old pair of stockings, some cling-wrap and hey presto! You have a video that is SO watch-able... Over and OVER again!
It really makes you wonder about the big-budget music videos that we're bombarded with on mtv everyday... I'm pretty sure you could feed a COUPLE of starving African nations for what they blast on ONE five-minute video. Tragic.
Come on, movie makers!!!
Let's have more THINKING behind it all like Sia's creative/production crew, and let's have more entertaining videos for less...
(If that sounded heavily retail, it's because it was meant to!)

Monday, October 15, 2007

Having some fun at the shoot on Friday.

One of our clients here at publicaddress: is the Ballito Lifestyle Centre, and we're currently in the process of putting together a whole new brand campaign for them for the year ahead. This of course involved setting up a shoot for images that we can use in the various campaign elements. Seeing as they wanted "real people" in the ads, we decided to tell the super-shmo-dels to take a hike and cast our friends and families in the shot list instead... Oh! And we made the cut too, unfortunately... I say "unfortunately", because those of you who know me will also know that I HATE having my picture taken... Why in the name of all that is holy would I EVER allow myself to be in a shoot (AGAIN!) is beyond me. Anyway... we had fun!
I'm still waiting to see what the real pics look like... These are just off my little cell phone.
Me and Gabby sharing a plate of chips at the Wimpy, talking about beads and all things pink...

Me and JaneO at the end of the LONG day, tired but silly as always!

Me getting all artsy-fartsy with my camera, getting a pic of the "sail" structure from underneath...

I've also wondered about the same thing...

Tuesday, October 09, 2007

While I was taking notes in my meetings in Cape Town last week...

... our house in Durban was being broken into!

There I was balancing on the roof trying to get a good angle on Table Mountain and the whole time a bunch of... I don’t know... Is there a name for them? A bunch of dead-if-I-ever-find-them a/holes were going through our personal, private, treasured things, throwing them around like they were trash, and pocketing pieces of jewelry that can never be replaced. It’s not about the money! The insurance will take care of that. (Or at least, we HOPE they will! All of a sudden there are all sorts of clauses and fine-print... Sigh.) It’s that they will never know how precious my grandmother’s bracelet was to me. She had nothing and she saved her whole life to buy that for me on my 18th birthday, - her only grand-daughter and the apple of her eye. They’ll never know the story behind the pearl earrings that my mother got me on my 21st, or the feeling I had when I bought myself those diamond channel set rings: Independent Woman, who can buy her own bling. Were they in Egypt watching the jeweler solder my name in hieroglyphics to a pendant? No. MY name. Not the name of the arb they’re going to sell it to. That’s MY name on the bracelet my grandmother got me.
But I didn’t lose half as much as my mother did. They didn’t find all of my stash... All my mother has left is what she was wearing that day. Her engagement ring is gone. The gifts her in-laws (my grandparents) bought for her when she joined the family. The diamonds my dad bought her will each baby that she blessed their home with...
I hope they die.
It was difficult trying to put on a brave, professional face and take notes... Smile and nod... Say something witty... Throw your head back and laugh at all the right moments.
The beauty of The Twelve Apostles Hotel and Spa was lost on me. It’s apparently the place where Michael Jackson and Oprah like to stay when they’re in Cape Town. Fourteen thousand rand a night...

I just fought back the tears and counted the seconds until I could hop on a plane and come home.

Thursday, September 27, 2007

On the eve of her 33rd birthday…

… Carmi Carm is feeling a little contemplative.
I’ve been thinking about birthdays past and the kind of shizzle that normally goes down around that time (for me). Not so good, all of it.
When I was three my brother Dono was born a month or 2 before my birthday. It must have been quite a traumatic thing for me, because I actually still remember it! My earliest memory is of the night that my mom went into labour and went into hospital to squeeze Dono out. I remember that I was spending the night at my gran’s place. I was in my peach pajamas and safely tucked in for the night, when I heard my gran whisper to my grandad that mom was in hospital. I remember getting out of bed and walking barefoot to the kitchen on the cold floor and asking where mom was, and I remember my gran walking towards me and scooping me up to take me back to bed. Must’ve been a kak birthday with a new baby brother. My mom tells me that Dono didn’t sleep for the first few months of his life, ‘cos I basically stood outside his door and sang on top of my lungs to wake him up everytime he dozed off. I got lots of klaps for it, but it seemed worth it at the time. We’ve since grown to love each other. It took 30 years but we’re nearly there! (I was The Princess and he stole my limelight… WHAT?!!?!)
Then when I turned 7 we moved into our current house. Momentous. It was a spring filled with those bright gross locusts getting stuck to my clothes as we played in the freshly cleared area that was our yard… But 2 good things came out of that year. Well one good thing: Brendan, my baby brother, was born. (He’s still my baby and always will be! I hope he’s reading this, cos I really need a new bottle of D&G for my birthday. The last bottle he bought me is kaput. *snigger*) And I started school. Yuck.
My parents nearly called it quits ON my 21st birthday… On the actual DAY!
I survived typhoon season in Taiwan in the year that I was teaching English there… (I commuted to my 4 schools on a little bike the whole time the rain pelted down on me. I was just grateful that the rain mixed with the tears, so nobody could see how miserable I was…)
Last year I got kicked up the ass by my old workplace the day after my birthday.
And a week later my best cousin Lyn died in a car crash.
There have been lots of other little things along the way but those were the biggies.
It’s like… this year, I want to find a safe place to crawl into and just hide it out for a bit. I don’t mind getting older. It’s not about that. In fact, I love becoming more of a woman who knows who she is with each and every year. It’s the stuff I can’t control that’s freaking me out. Dumb, hey?
I suppose I could get drunk. (Stifled yawn.)
Or high. (SO 3 years ago.)
I could go dancing. But I do that everyday anyway.
I know what I want out of Life, but it gets quite frustrating waiting for it all to fall into place… My own place. Making the business a success. Financial independence. Lasting relationship/s… Sometimes birthdays can be a good time to enjoy looking back on how far you’ve come. Sometimes they’re just a shitty reminder that yet another year has past and you’re still singing the same old tune on a lot of the stuff you’ve been bitching about in the past.
This IS going to be a better birthday for me this year for a number of reasons… New someone in my life. Being with a great company and workmates. God and I are finally cool with each other, after me blaming Him for a lot of crap that I invited into my life… There are lots of cool things going on.
So what is this feeling?
Why won’t it go away?
i think I just need a whisky or seven. That should fix it!

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

What can say, Durbz?!

How do you spend the perfect weekend in laid-back Durban? Easy…
Friday night you spend quality time with your hot man, just chilling after a strenuous long week.
Saturday night you start off by catching a live band (Love Jones), then you down a couple of giant margaritas at a popular hotspot (Bean Ban Bohemia) and finish the night off by busting out on the dancfloor at a gay club (The Lounge)… because noboby knows how to throw a party like The Gays!
Sunday you can spend with your family, playfully yelling foul language at the tv while you watch the cricket with your dad.
(Oh… and secretly dream of your hot man.)

Monday, September 10, 2007

Sunday = decadence

Even though I was completely tired from my dad's party, I refused to let Sunday go by without doing something special... So I opted for pure indulgence and decadence! Strawberries and cream for breakfast. Chocolate mousse for lunch. A good, refreshing glug of berry juice every-so-often. Afternoon sunshine on my face. Good company to make me smile...
Every Sunday should be this way.

What a jorl! Birthday parties rock… the party!

This Saturday the 8th was my dad’s 60th birthday fat massive jorl at the racecourse. (I mentioned it a couple of blogs ago.) What a day and night!
I had to do a speech on behalf of my mom and brothers. Here it is. I think it says everything…
Good evening everyone!
Thanks for joining us as we celebrate the birthday of a really special dude… My dad, Eric! But you know that already…
I’m quite surprised that dad asked me to speak today. I thought he would have asked the favourite, who shall remain nameless (Donovan!), but I think the favourtie was wise enough to buy his way out of the speech thing will a really expensive gift! Nice one Dono!
What can I say about dad that you don’t know? What you see is what you get! The happy, funny good-guy that all of you see, is the same happy, funny good-guy we know at home! People often ask me it it’s weird working with your own dad… and I have to say, no! Not at all! It’s an absolute pleasure! Everyone loves him! Dad has the power to lift the mood in any room the moment he walks in! With or without his guitar! He’s just joined us at publicaddress as our production manager and I know he’s going to bring that same awesome energy with him when he starts.
Mom and dad have made such a great home for us that none of us have actually managed to leave! Every-so-often the space gets a little cramped and one of us might bugger off for a few months, but in no time at all we’re back… Much to mom and dad’s dismay! Who would pass up the free weekly car washes and awesome sunday breakfasts?!??! That’s just crazy!
And if there’s one thing that dad brought to our home in his own unique way, it’s got to be music. My childhood memories are of the 5 of us cooking sunday lunch, in time to whatever was blaring out of the livingroom hi-fi. I think Dono, Bren and I knew the words to Bohemian Rhapsody before we could do eensy-weensy-spider! (Rock out!) It was an awesome childhood that I know both mom and dad worked really hard to give us. Thanks dad! I don’t know how you find the strength to work a normal 9 to fiver, go to church 3 nights a week for choir practise etc , and still have the power to rock the party a couple of nights a week with band practise and the gigs! It’s mental, but you do it. No questions asked! So I say, thank you for the music. The songs you’re singing… Thanks for all the joy they’re bringing… Hey! Why does that sound familiar? Brendan, having released an album in Taiwan will tell you that he’s the most talented of the lot, but I think not! Nursery rhyms may have made him big in Japan, but I say he’s still an unknown here.
Dad you’ve spoilt the three of us rotten! You’re always in the background, quietly taking care of stuff. I think this year was the first time I actually put my new license disk onto the car by myself! Normally the reminder arrives, money changes hands, and the disk materialises on the windscreen almost by magic! In fact, if you search Brendan’s bag right now you’ll find his disk still neatly folded in an envelope waiting for dad to work his magic! And that’s dad…
Dad, I just wanna take this opportunity to wish you the best ever 60th birthday on behalf of Jeana, Dono, Brend, Beena (the cat) and myself… I hope you’re blessed with a ga-jillion ba-jilllion more, cos we really couldn’t do without you. We’ll always love you.
Have a fat massive jorl tonight! You deserve it!
Happy birthday!

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

My CheriBeri knows just how to make me smile…

I got up feeling so strong and together this morning, but as the hours wore on, I couldn’t help but feel a little bleak. Well… More than a little bleak. The Guy and I hit a bit of a speed bump and I wasn’t dealing very well.
So my breast friend Cheri decided to meet me for lunch... ALL the way from Hillcrest. I’m in Umhlanga… You can’t COMPREHEND just how far that is unless you live in KZN. And she had to drive all the way back to her desk… AND she bought me this gorgeous bunch of flowers to cheer me up.

I love you Cheri… I want to have your baby some day. But that will really wreck my body, so how about I just hold your baby that you have with someone else someday. Just for a few minutes. Nothing too involved.

I’m probably gonna get sued for this, but I couldn’t be bovv’ed!

I just have to share with you this license plate that I passed the other day…

It says “NOBHOPE”. I’m pretty sure it’s a Zulu surname or first name or something, but in English, I read it as “Nob Hope”.
Come on, man! You HAVE TO find that funny…
As I overtook the young chicky who was driving the car, I gave her a little smile to say:
Yeah, chicky! As a fellow woman, I can relate… I think most of us chicks live in a constant state of Nob Hope, ie the hope that some kind gentleman will put a smile on your dial with some serious SERIOUS nobbing.
Too funny for words…

My ballie is officially 60, guys!

How cool is that?
Dad turned 60 on the 30th August and we’re having the biggest birthday bash EVER for him on Saturday (8th September) at the Racecourse. It’s gonna be so cool! Because my dad is a musician, they’ll be loads of muse-o’s there, so there’ll be live music and lots of dancing. I can’t wait! My dress is an absolute KNOCKOUT! (Let’s just say I won’t be eating any cheese or carbz for the next few days… LOL!) I’ll make sure that the photographer takes loads of kiff pics for my blog and facebook. Here are a couple of pics from the sushi lunch we had for his birthday at the John Dory’s (Gateway)…
My mom and dad…

My hot brother, Brendan…

And the beautiful sushi bar.

Friday, August 31, 2007


From next month we’re going to have at least two new people joining us at publicaddress: so we went out at lunchtime today to get them their new sneakers. That’s one of our little traditions. Seeing as we’re a Durban agency that reflects Durban’s laidback attitudes and personalities we like to welcome new staff with a pair of sneaks. They’re not super expensive ones. In fact, that’s the whole idea… There’s only one rule that comes with them: You MUST wear your sneaks to every papu. (If you don’t already know what a papu is, you can find out here.)
Have I mentioned that Durban advertising rules?
Well, it does!

Thursday, August 30, 2007

We’re LIVE!

Check it out people! Our publicaddress website is now up and running!
You’ll find me in the profile section, under “people”… Well. I’m not physically UNDER any people, but you know what I mean?

Don’t forget to download something kiff for your desktop from our download section.

Seriously, you guys. Transformers is like the coolest movie I’ve ever seen!

… And it’s not just because I’m in advertising and creatives like myself like getting off on uber-cool graphics and CGI stuff!
This movie just ROCKS! Trust me.
Even the website is killer…
Cheri and I caught the 6pm show at Musgrave last night, with handbags stuffed full of chocolate, cheese burgers and popcorn. I knew it was going to be cool, but damn, nothing could have prepared me for just HOW cool it was going to be. For most of the movie Cheri and I just sat there in a wide-eyed daze murmering “coooool… cooooool… cooooool…” like some sort of mantra.
I really thought that I was gonna dig Megatron (I have a thing for bad boys!) but when Bumblebee did that cool wheelie thing and transformed from and old, stuffed up transformer into an awesome new yellow Camaro transformer? I knew I was in love.

And as for Optimus Prime? Uber LANK kiff, as Cheri would say!
The Dreamworks people really have taken it to the next level. In fact, they’ve basically invented a whole new level about 15 levels above what movies used to be, and that’s where they are now with this film.
There’s loads of eye-candy for the girls and explosions for the boys, so everyone should have something/someone to perv.
Check it out. You won’t be sorry.
(Note: The running time is 2 hours 22 minutes, so don’t order a big coke like Cher and I did! Ouch.)

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Gym Shower Etiquette 101

I’ve been hitting the gym pretty hard for about 2 years now, and I can honestly say that I’ve learned a lot. Not just about my body and the way it works, how far I can push if and where I have to respect my limitations, but I’ve also learned a great deal about the way I interact with people and the way that they interact with me, in a small, sweaty, “exposed” environment. My Body Talk (energy healing) practitioner told me once that she only goes to the gym when she’s absolutely forced to (if bad weather won’t allow her to train in her own pool at home), otherwise she does her very best to avoid the negative, aggressive energies firing around the gym, from all the time-poor/cash-rich, stressed, overweight fuckers trying in vain to fight genetics, the ravages of time and the bulging stress-vein in their temples. Me personally? I feel the angry energy too… But that’s not what this blog post is about.
This post is about how you should behave in a gym locker room / shower environment, - a “how to” of sorts to help you navigate your way through the potentially embarrassing and painfully uncomfortable world of non-sexual group nudity.

1. Don’t touch my stuff with your stuff!
In my house, I have some rules. One of them is, don’t EVER touch my towel. You touch my towel, you die. It’s as simple as that. This is a rule that I enforce with the very people that I know and love. Strangers at the gym don’t get the same courtesies as the ones I know and love. I’m way more brutal with strangers. If we are sharing a bench in the locker room, please do not let any part of your stuff touch any part of mine. That’s disgusting. A few weeks ago some woman tossed her towel ON TOP OF MINE on the bench while we were changing. Once I’d recovered from the nausea and revulsion I SHOOK my towel out from under hers, making sure her towel ended up on the athlete’s foot infested tiled floor, before giving her a shrug and a “Oops! Did I do that?” eyebrow raise… Next time she won’t be so lucky.

2. Please, for the love of God: If I don’t know you, don’t talk to me when I’m naked.
Nudity makes people uncomfortable, - we all know that. I have found that in order to break the tension, people feel that they need to fill the uncomfortable silence with verbal diarrhoea. They try to fight their discomfort for as long as they possibly can, but by the time you’re both completely naked, they can’t TAKE it anymore, so that’s the time they choose to ask you where you bought your gym bag, or what you think of the new treadmills, or how much you paid for your running shoes, etc etc etc. I find it difficult to make conversation with strangers when I can see their genitalia. And in my mind’s eye, all I can see is my own nakedness, - a mental picture of what they must be seeing. Sigh. Just don’t do it.
(Also, especially don’t try to sell me something when I’m naked. I’ve had women approach me about insurance, herbal weight loss teas and business “networking” opportunities all while I was kaal-gat.)

3. Don’t have half hour long conversations on your cell phone, while you’re completely naked, lying spread-eagled on a bench.

It’s fucking disgusting. I don’t need to see what you had for lunch. And NO conversation is EVER so important that it can’t wait until after you’ve pulled your clothes on. I can hear you laughing and joking, therefore it CANNOT be a serious pressing issue that you’re trying to sort out. Bloody hell…

4. Only The Jackson Five should ever have afros that big.
Ladies, bikini grooming is everything. If you’re not going to wax because you’re a big sissy for pain, then get yourself a trimmer and TRIM for Pete’s sake! I’m not saying that you have to go as extreme as I do. (I’m currently sporting a look that the guys at work call “The Bald Eagle”. I get many a double take in the change room…) But a landing strip would be far less vomit-inducing. Hell, even a George Micheal designer stubble trim would be easier on the eye. I’ve often wondered if some women would actually drop a pants size through a simple hedge trim. I’d be very interested to find out…

5. No gawkers please.
If you’re bringing your children with you to the gym, please keep them on a leash and please keep the little perverts away from me! You may have squeezed them out of your privates and therefore don’t care if they see you naked, but I do mind when I’m trying to get dressed and I’ve got some little boy staring at me with his mouth open, while his mother is quite happy to pretend that she can’t see what he’s doing just so that she can dress in peace for once. Don’t make your problems (mistakes?) my problems. I have no issues with hitting children, and I might just start with yours if you are too prozac’ed up to do it yourself.

6. Be prepared.

I make an effort to sit down at my desk, think about everything that I could possibly need to get showered/dressed, buy little travel pack versions of everything and pack them in my little gym bag for when I need them. I like being prepared. (Okay… It’s not a “little” gym bag. I could actually leave home for 2 weeks and have enough stuff to keep me beautiful. What? I’m anal that way.) I therefore have no patience for lonely bitches who try to start a conversation or make new friends by borrowing my stuff. I once had a lady walk up to me and say, “You look like you have a nice big bag with lots of stuff in? I don’t suppose you have any talcum powder for me?” The only reason I didn’t punch her in the face, is because I’m a lady. The size and contents of my bag have nothing to do with you, so stay the frack out.

I have a couple of other pet peeves / rules that don’t just involve the shower, like…
- If you’re ahead of me on the super circuit, when the super-circuit beeper beeps, get the fuck off the machine and out of my way. (While you’re dragging your fat ass off the machine, I’m losing MY full time on it! Fuck.)
- Wipe your sweat off the machine before I have to use it. ALL of it!
- Don’t “book” a machine by throwing your towel over it, only to have a conversation with your friends or try to chat up a personal trainer when I’m QUEUING for the same fekking machine. GEEZ!!
- Don’t try to chat me up when I’m sweating. Especially if you’re an old geezer. Just fuck off.

I think I really hate the gym. I LOVE working out. But I hate the gym. No… I actually like the gym it’s the people that work on my goddam nerves.
I think I just don’t like people.

Shit. Writing this piece has made me angry. Now I want to climb up to a watch tower and shoot somebody. Anybody.

Monday, August 27, 2007

The Simpsons Movie? Thumbs up!

On Friday night The Guy and I were looking for something relatively low key and laid-back to do, so after much deliberation and confusion we decided on the default low-key outing option ie. the movies and headed off to Gateway to see what was on. I was really REALLY amped to see Transformers, ‘cos I’ve heard great things about it, but The Guy was vehemently opposed to the idea. (I don’t know why. So don’t ask.) He’d seen The Simpsons movie before, but is a big Spiderpig fan so didn’t mind seeing it again. I love The Simpsons and am a big fan so I wasn’t too bummed about not seeing Transformers. (Besides, maybe I can con Cher into coming to the movies this Wednesday to watch Transformers with me… How ‘bout it, CheriBeri? I’ll even spring for popcorn & horrogs!) After grabbing a quick sushi (with no embarrassing face stuffing incidents this time, phew!), wandering around the centre and bumping into my cousin’s wife (ack!) we ended up at the apple iStore for about half an hour, drooling on all the cool mac stuff.

Do yourself a favour and check out the store. It’s freakin' AWESOME!
The Guy himself went from pledging his undying devotion to pc's as we walked into the store, to leaving half an hour later vowing to get a mac himself someday. (Can I get an Amen for the latest mac convert?) I basically drooled for a solid 30minutes.

(Oh. By the way. The reason for the “ack!” on meeting my cousin’s wife? Well… You have to understand that my family loves to "talk". Which family doesn’t? My folks and brothers haven’t met The Guy yet, and I was hoping they’d be the first, but if I know my people, the entire family probably knows all of The Guys specs by now. Not that I mind too much. He’s quite easy on the eye and was on his best behavior. Oh well…)

And eventually, we made it to the movie…

Yeah… I think I’d rate it, hey? It might have been The Guy’s infectious laughter that made it a whole lot funnier than it was, but I really did enjoy it. No big surprises really, - just like an hour and a half long episode of The Simpsons with no ad breaks and no dumb network logo in the corner of the screen. I did quite enjoy studying The Guy's reactions to things, - seeing what he found funny vs what I thought was hilarious. I noticed that both of us didn’t find the blasphemous church-stuff too funny. (No big surprises here. We’re both God-fearing Christians.) We both LOVED the Spiderpig bit… But after much consideration I’ve decided that I am way more “evil” than he is. He’s the kind of guy who would laugh at a man dressed as an old lady falling into a ditch. With me, it really has to be an old lady. And she should preferably break something. (Snigger.) He would be appalled at that last statement. In fact, he’s constantly suggesting that I twist his arm into doing all sorts of deviant stuff that he wouldn’t ordinarily ever consider doing. I say, rubbish! Nobody can MAKE you do stuff you really don’t want to do. Whether he likes it or not, he’s got a rubber wrist just like mine. (I have a whole rubber arm. Nay 2 rubber arms! But that’s a story for another time. Heh heh heh.) Maybe that’s part of the attraction: the fact that we’re both so highly and easily corruptable.
(I like. I very, very like!)

Quite possibly the WORST fast food experience I’ve ever had!

Shot, Debonairs (Newlands) for a totally kak pizza experience.
Here’s how it went down…
I stayed home from work on Wednesday with a busted up back, - not from having any kinky sex or anything like that (sadly!), but from reaching around in my car for something and over extending a muscle and some joints. I’ve been trying to nurse myself back to health for almost 3 weeks now, but somehow the pain has been getting progressively worse. Also my idea of nursing myself back to health, is swallowing as many painkillers as I can get my get my hands on during the day, working out like a demon 4 times a week, and then passing out in the weirdest sleeping position ever to aggravate the already strained part of my body. Rest and physio didn’t feature until yesterday when I eventually couldn’t take the pain anymore. (What can I say? I can’t tolerate weakness! Especially my own…)
My mom and dad were on leave yesterday, so when I woke in desperate need of some "comfort food" (read: melted cheese) I decided to treat us all to some pizza from the nearest pizza place, Debonairs in Newlands. Somehow “comedy of errors” doesn’t quite sum it up, because it was sadly more infuriating than funny.
First I call to place the order and get their order guy happens to have the thickest, strangest accent ever! He had to say everything at least 3 times for me to know what he was trying to ask/communicate. THEN they took almost an hour to get there, by which time my hungry father had gone from waiting in the kitchen, to waiting on the veranda, to waiting on the driveway, to standing in the street with his arms folded and a fist full of cash, fuming and vowing not to tip the delivery guy. THEN the pizzas finally get there and the one hasn’t been sliced. We don’t have a pizza cutter, and trying to slice a molten-lava hot pizza with a blunt knife is impossible, even more so where you’re already starving. Our pizza looked like we’d stuck a bomb in it by the time my mom was finished. THEN we discover that they’ve started using some cheap mozzarella that, no matter how hard/long you chew retains one rubbery solid shape, so that – in order to actually get it down your throat – you have to swallow it whole! THEN the final straw came when my mom bit into an olive pip, feeling like she’d cracked her own pip in two from the sheer jarring force of it all!
It goes without saying that we won’t be supporting those guys anymore. Not just the Newlands store, but the entire franchise can bugger off! As processed as their pizzas were, I kinda enjoyed Debonairs back in the day, but boy have their quality control levels dropped!
Mom and I felt quite queasy later in the day too… Shiver! The thought of that rubbery “mozzarella” makes me sick.

UPDATE: My brother, not knowing about this incident, decided to treat us to pizza from Debonairs just this weekend. I'm not sure which branch it was from, but it definitely wasn't from the one in Newlands and it was MUCH MUCH better... If inconsistency is their big problem all I can say is that they've pretty much lost me as a customer. How do you know which branch to support? Pfft!

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Stupid cell phone camera drained the colour…

I kinda got a little side tracked a few weeks ago, so my crochet project (the afghan/throw for my bed) fell a little behind schedule. Ag! Who am I fooling? I’ve blown the schedule clean out of the water with my procrastination and general lazy-assed laying about. So… Here’s what I’ve decided. Instead of killing myself to complete one major project every 6 months (as originally planned… ja right!!) I will now endeavour to complete one major project per year, with as many minor projects as I’d like to take on along the way. So this afghan qualifies as this year’s major project. And yes, it WILL be done by the end of the year, even though I’m really not looking forward to blocking and joining all of the squares that it will take to make the final thing. (Groan!) The moment this is done, I’m hoping to have a few weeks/months to make a few baby blankets to put away from some family/friends who I know will be having babies or are planning to have babies soon. I’d like to finish the blankets now and put them away for when I need to hand them out, rather than to start late and not finish them in time, as is more “my style”… (Eyeball roll!)
So here’s how the squares are looking so far…

I’ve completed eight of each of these “colour variations/patterns” (that’s ±72 squares in total). I took the picture late last night, in my badly lit bedroom, so the colours are all drained and washed out! The camera didn’t do it any justice at all. The colours are much warmer in reality. They’re denim blue, dusty/rosy pink and a pale wheat kinda colour. I was so desperate to capture the warmth in the colours that at one stage I was balancing a torch in my mouth kneeling on my bed with my face as close to the squares as possible and taking the pic with my elbows propping me up and keeping me from landing on my ass.
Who says crochet is for girls?!

Monday, August 20, 2007

From Zero to Poo-Yourself in about 4 seconds…

Okay… So there I was looking forward to a laid back friday afternoon and early dinner with The Guy, - nothing too spesh, just fast food and a laugh or two at the chicken joint ‘round the corner from my house, when The Guy tells me that there’ll be a small change of plan. (Ooh! Spontaneity! Surprises! I like.) I got there first and called to ask if I should get us a table, but he instructed me (he’s VERY bossy and loves ordering people – not just me – around!) to wait outside. There was something he wanted to show me… Turns out that he was getting some ridiculously expensive car sound fitted to his car and, as is often the case with men, his friends were there to lend a hand, a laugh and some general hanging-about pointless man-company. (Girls? You know the type… Why do men always have to do things in packs? Anyway.) And the thing that The Guy wanted to show me was a car belonging to one of those friends. In fact, the friend offered to bring The Guy over to meet me (while the car sound was getting sorted out) and to actually take me for a very short spin in his super, uber, lank, crazy fast car. I’m not sure what all the numbers mean, but I’m told that it’s a 2l, 16valve, turbo… thing.
It started out innocently enough, until The Guy warns me that I really should sit back, instead of perching on the edge of the backseat (so I could touch him, giggle!). I didn’t even get to ask why, before the friend takes off at top speed, throwing me backwards (blind!) and pinning me to the backseat. Is it lame to admit that my life flashed before my eyes and we didn’t even get past 3rd gear? Well if it is lame, then so be it! Damn. It was fast. But it wasn’t just getting from A to B quickly that made the whole thing “fast”… It was the way the car felt under us; the way it sounded… all of it, added to the experience. (By the way, “Friend”! My lawyer will be calling you later this week about the pending whiplash case I’m starting against you… Just kidding!)
Let’s get one thing clear. I’m no sissy when it comes to speed. I once racked up a bunch of speeding fines to the value of about R4000 in the space of 3 months or so. (Ack!) When a fine comes to my house my father doesn’t even bother to open it to see who it’s for. He just angrily throws it on my bed and glares at me as he walks past. There was a joke around our house that, that year I had taken it upon myself to fund the SA police Christmas bonus kitty all by myself. Whatever. I can’t drive slow, so shuddup!
Even though I worry that The Guy will be safe while he toys with this racing rubbish, I really can’t be a hypocrite and try to make him stop. I never would. I can only imagine how good it feels. I haven’t told him this before, but I have a serious problem with speed too. (Speed as in “fast”. Not speed the drug! Doh.) It’s weird. Rollercoasters make me queasy with that sick, lurching, stomach-in-your-mouth feeling, but fast cars are just fine, thank you very much.

Friday, August 17, 2007


I ALSO see salad just like this! (Heh!)
Check out the making of this awesome tribute to Giger and Giuseppe Archimboldo here.
Way cool.

Thursday, August 16, 2007

For the ladies.

My dad sent me this email today and it really touched my heart. Mainly because it's the way I've been feeling lately about myself and about being 32, - just comfortable in my own skin. Read on. It's good stuff.


This is for all you girls 30 years and over and for those who are turning 30, and for those who are scared of moving into their 30's AND for guys who are scared of girls over 30! This was written by Andy Rooney from CBS 60 Minutes. Andy Rooney says:
As I grow in age, I value women who are over 30 most of all. Here are just a few reasons why:

A woman over 30 will never wake you in the middle of the night to ask, "What are you thinking?" She doesn't care what you think.

If a woman over 30 doesn't want to watch the game, she doesn't sit around whining about it. She does something she wants to do. And, it's usually something more interesting.

A woman over 30 knows herself well enough to be assured in who she is, what she is, what she wants and from whom. Few women past the age of 30 give a damn what you might think about her or what she's doing.

Women over 30 are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you at the opera or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if you deserve it, they won't hesitate to shoot you, if they think they can get away with it.

Older women are generous with praise, often undeserved. They know what it's like to be unappreciated.

A woman over 30 has the self-assurance to introduce you to her women friends. A younger woman with a man will often ignore even her best friend because she doesn't trust the guy with other women. Women over 30 couldn't care less if you're attracted to her friends because she knows her friends won't betray her.

Women get psychic as they age. You never have to confess your sins to a woman over 30. They Always Know.

A woman over 30 looks good wearing bright red lipstick. This is not true of younger women.

Once you get past a wrinkle or two, a woman over 30 is far sexier than her younger counterpart.

Older women are forthright and honest. They'll tell you right off if you are a Jerk if you are acting like one! You don't ever have to wonder where you stand with her.

Yes, we praise women over 30 for a multitude of reasons. Unfortunately, it's not reciprocal. For every stunning, smart, well-coiffed hot woman of 30+, there is a bald, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool of himself with some 22-year-old waitress.

Ladies, I apologize. For all those men who say, "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free". Here's an update for you: Nowadays 80% of women are against marriage, why? Because women realize it's not worth buying an entire Pig, just to get a little sausage!

LIVE EARTH follow up...

I finally got around to downloading our pledge pic from and here it is!

Vanessa, myself and Maria (in that order)... You can just see we're nursing hangovers from HELL from the night before. It's hilarious now when I look at it, but it wasn't so hilarious at the time. I've never felt pain like that before. Groan.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Hulk smash! Hulk CRASH!

Yesterday was quite a weird day for me…
It was busy and all seemed to be happening on some surreal level. I didn’t let it bug me though, thinking that my follow up appointment with my hairstylist might bring my senses back to The Real, - having one of the girls wash, dry and style my hair might make me feel human again, right? Or so I thought. It turned out to be an equally unrewarding, empty experience. My hair looks GREAT – don’t get me wrong – but I just wasn’t “in the moment” somehow…
The last straw came when I got home expecting to find a receipt and some change for a bill that I’d asked my father to pay, safely chucked on my bed. Instead I find that he’s given the people the ENTIRE amount (no change!) and they’ve made the receipt out incorrectly! (I requested that they do it a certain way for my tax return.) Argh! You’ve got to understand that my arrangement with the people came after several lengthy phone calls and visits, so when they STILL didn’t get it right, I felt like I had every reason to be pissed! I don’t think I’ve ever felt so “alone” than at that moment. The feeling that, if I didn’t do it myself, I actually couldn’t rely on anyone to just “take care of it” for me. I had asked for a little support on something really simple and my support system had failed. In fact the support system felt nonexistent. In no time at all, I graduated from silent indifference in the car, to screaming blind bloody rage, - fury so intense that, let’s just say it’s a good thing I don’t have a gun. I could have quite easily off-ed him!
It was clearly time for what I like to call a “breaky-breaky, fucky-fucky”, which is basically where you ravage your way through the house/office (actually any space will do!) like Godzilla or The Hulk, pulverizing everything in your path… (For added effect you can also growl/yell “Hulk smash! Hulk CRASH!” as you drop kick things out of your way!) So I did a few Jean-Claude Van Damme flying kicks to some shit in my room and skulked off to the lounge to breathe (deeply!) and try to calm the throbbing vein in my cranium.
Some good advice from someone who knows: Don’t try to practice your favourite hobby when your mad. You’ll just end up like that guy in the toothbrush commercial who builds a squiff cupboard (with drawers that don’t fit), smashes it to pieces and then brushes his teeth too hard. Know the one? Well… all the murderous rage in my shoulders went straight down my arms, through my fingertips and along my crochet needle and wool, to make stitches so tight and tense that at one stage I thought I had knotted the needle in permanently! (@£$%£$%!!!!!)
But then a funny thing happened: The Guy called quite unexpectedly to find out how my hair appointment had gone. When I told him that I needed to go back for yet another follow up appointment next week, he proceeded to have the sexiest little jealousy fit ever! He barked something about how he’s convinced that my (very straight) hairstylist is actually just getting me back there so he can run his fingers through my hair (crap, - trust me!) and that he’s coming with me next week so that he can bust a cap in the salon. (I had visions of him having a breaky-breaky fucky-fucky in this uber cool, serene, grey salon while Tibetan monk meditation music twinkled gently in the background. Hilarious!) There was also a very crude “pube” remark that I’m too much of a lady to ever repeat, - but damn! It made me laugh. He made me laugh. And the heavens opened up, and the angels started singing, and the sun shone through the clouds and the vein stopped throbbing etc.
What is this strange power that men have over women?
I’m an independent woman dammit! I am in control of my own feelings right?
The Guy turned a totally kak day around with a simple little phone call. Powerful stuff, if I say so myself. A few days ago he joked that I should start saving up for his Christmas gift, - a turbo thingy for his car worth thousands. (He’s such a dreamer! Pfft!) But I think I should just get him a cape and mask. “SuperGuy” has a nice ring to it, I think.
The little midnight calls that followed later only sweetened the deal even more…

Apologies to the Toyota Auris people…

I spelt your name incorrectly…
No WONDER I couldn’t find you on the net. Doh!
Check it out peops:
Naas… Very naas.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

It's the S-N-O-O-P D-O double G!

We're rocking some vintage Snoop in the office today! Doggystyle, 1993, - only the best... I could try to to make up some words to wax lyrical about how awesome Snoop is, but I think I'll just leave it to him:

It's the bow to the wow,
creepin and crawlin,
Yiggy yes y'allin,
Snoop Doggy Dogg in the motherfuckin house like everyday,
Droppin shit with my nigga Mr Dr. Dre.
Like I said, niggaz can't FUCK with this,
And niggaz can't FUCK with that
shit that I drop cuz ya know it don't stop.
Mr. One Eight Seven on a motherfuckin cop.
Tic toc never the glock just some nuts and a cock.
Robbin motherfuckers then I kill dem blood claats.
Then I step through the fog and I creep through the smog,
Cuz I'm Snoop Doggy (who?) Doggy (what?) Doggy [Dogg]

That's some poetic shizzle, right there, y'all!
To which I can only respond with a melodic:

Doggy, Doggy, Doggy, can't you see?
Somehow your words just hypnotize me.
And I just love your jazzy ways.
Doggy Dogg, your love is here to stay!

Taken from my favourite track on the album... Sigh.

Monday, August 13, 2007

Cars are kiff.

Wow! What a weekend!
It was strangely full of cars, cars, CARS!
The Guy is a bit of a drag racing fanatic and races a bit himself (swoon!) and was basically booked all weekend on a drag race event thing that he was involved in.
But he wasn’t the only one going car mad… One of my best girls, LorLor, totally managed to hook us up with VIP tickets to the launch of the new Toyota Aurus at some swank spot on the waterfront. Nice.

We weren’t even sure if it was going to be cool or not, and were quite comfortable to just pull on a pair of jeans and a sexy top, see if we make it to midnight and take it from there… Little did we know the event was going to be so awesome! I knew things were taking a turn when I ditched the jeans in favour of a killer LBD that I’d forgotten about at the back of my wardrobe. I dunno… I suddenly felt like getting a little dressed up. So I did. And I’m glad I did, ‘cos the Aurus people really went all out! Wow… There were cool rollerblading, lumi-clad waitress chicks, keeping everyone well juiced on shooters and yummy chow. The dj was freakin’ brilliant and the other entertainment rocked too. There were these platforms all over the place where, every few songs, some dancers would put on a mini performance to whatever. Of course by 1am we were so hammered we thought it might be a good idea to get on the platform ourselves. (Ack!) Let’s just say, one minute there were steps going up and the next minute there were no steps… Wipe out! Fortunately Noodle and I landed on our feet, but needless to say we trashed that idea very quickly and chose to stay away from the platform from then on (LOL!).

Not the most flattering angle for me, but anyway...
Whoever said that tequila is The Devil, clearly has not met the tequila/whisky/jagermeister combo. Groan. Our dancing got progressively more manic as the night wore on and by the time The Guy decided to surprise me at the event (±1am) I was totally sweaty and squiff. (Ah crap!) He was elated at having won his race (my hero!) but far too tired to come in and see my friends. So I got The Shits that he wouldn’t meet them and then he got The Shits and I had The Shits, and we drove home in a huff. (Pout.)
I don’t know if excessive boozing can lead to tourettes syndrome, but all I know is that I kept bumping into things all of Sunday and letting loose with a stream of obscenities that would make a sailor blush. It hurt, you guys… It really really hurt. Hangover induced tourettes is no fun. I’m not going recommend it. Anyway, it’s my fault for not knowing my limits.
Sunday was very bleak and depressing for a number of reasons (all sorts of altercations and deliberations) but at least it ended nicely with The Guy making me laugh. He has such a sexy, infectious laugh, he soon had me in stitches.
And now it’s Monday and back to work. The weekend euphoria has worn off and I’m trying to ignore the feeling in the pit of my tummy, - the feeling that something is wrong… The feeling that something really bad is about to happen (to me). What does it all mean, I wonder…

Friday, August 10, 2007

Happy (on) Women's Day!

What better way to spend Women’s Day than as an absolute princess, pampered and preened to precious perfection… But, now I’m getting ahead of myself! The pampering and preening was more like the icing on a somewhat decadent, indulgent, heavenly cake of a time that I’ve been having lately.
Let’s see… Where should I begin?
First there was this really big pitch presentation that we’ve been preparing for here at work. To say that it went well would be a bit of an understatement! We just did so well and the client was really happy, so I guess the new business will be ours. Driving back to the office along the beach, with the sun on our faces and the waves crashing on the shore and our little hearts so full of pride, I thought I might cry. But I didn’t because the guys would’ve given me kak about it! Although at some stage I think they might have also been tempted to cry but blamed it on some sea sand in their eyes instead!
Then there are all the latest developments with The Guy… Perhaps now an update on The Guy is in order… Goodness knows what the rest of the world will think about us being together seeing as I am a good few years older than him, but my word, we don’t seem to care! We’re hitting it off like the proverbial “house on fire”. Well… Nothing’s literally in flames, but it sure feels hot! (*giggle*) Since meeting face-to-face last week and getting to know each other via an intricate web of technological innovation (ie. phone, sms and the internet), we decided to take our well-choreographed techno-samba to the next level and actually have a meal together like real people do in the real world. Civilized, grown-up, real people. That’s us, - or at least, who we aspire to be. So off we went to dinner on Wednesday night to the Cape Fish Market (Gateway), and here are a few dating tips I’ve gleaned from the evening…
What to do and what not to do on a first dinner date with a guy:
1. Don’t order sushi. (Biting a piece of sushi in half is bad luck, but the sight of you stuffing an entire salmon nagiri in your gob in one go – as is the custom! – is something that he should only see later in the relationship when both of you have degenerated into a bunch of couch potatoes who don’t care what they look like. My sushi chef probably thought he was doing me a favour with the giant pieces, but I really just wanted to kill him. Shot for nothing, A-Hole! I’m pretty sure that at one stage I might have caught The Guy’s raised eyebrow. Ack!)
2. Don’t order a whisky if your man is drinking a cola tonic. (No matter now sober you know you are, you’re going to feel hammered just knowing that he’s not drinking at all.)
3. Try not to get served by midgets. With braces. Who can’t stop talking in their squeaky little voices. (This WILL irritate you, especially when he’s being nice to the midget, and inadvertently encouraging her to talk more. And more. And MORE!)
4. Don’t be afraid to make an entrance! (Swishing in, in a sexy little number is worth the look on his face when he sees you. And the lump in his throat when he tries to greet you. Also remember to feign innocence when he demands that you throw a jacket over your shoulders because he doesn’t want other guys checking you out. A simple “But darling… This old thing?” following by some furious eyelash fluttering and open-mouthed disbelief will do just nicely, thank you! Make guy jealous? Check!)
5. Try not to look like a love-struck fool as you gaze into his eyes, listening to his riveting story about fixing his car.
6. Make sure you have a full tank of petrol for the long ride home. (You might find yourself taking the long route just so you can spend more time together. Shweet.)
… A great time was had by all! We’ve since been meeting and techno-samb-ing whenever we get the chance. There has been a minor glitch or two, like him not warning me that his aunt might show up unexpectedly to meet me while we’re out (HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!), but other than that, it’s going well.
And last but certainly not least on my agenda, Women’s Day! After months and months of saving and agonizing over whether or not to do a permanent bio-ionic type straightening on my naturally soft-curly hair, I finally decided to go through with it. There really was only one choice for me when it came to salons, so earlier in the week I called Babylon (Cowie Road, Durban) to book some time with Jono, the owner, resident DJ and all-round king of beautiful hair. I could never have expected Jono to offer to open the salon especially for lil’ ol’ me on a public holiday (Women’s Day) and to treat me to his absolute undivided attention and care! But that’s exactly what he did! What a gent!?! Four hours in the seat could have been agonizing, but it was just brilliant! I stepped out feeling like a princess, and I’ll be back on Tuesday for the follow-up appointment and a treatment. Thanks, Jono! You’re a star.

You can see my shiny hair in these happy, smiley pics…