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.



Hilarious!

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.

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!

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!)

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...

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...
Fuckers.
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.

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!

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.)

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!

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”.
WAAAAH HA HA HA HA HAAA!
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.
WAAAAH HA HA HA HA HAAA!
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.

Tradition

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!

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.
DURBAN ADVERTISING RULES!!

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.)

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.

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!)