Then and Now…Biologically Speaking

Good luck on today's Biology paper, Paige!  I'm already proud of the effort from both you and teacher Warren!  Sadly, I failed at my attempt to help.  Cannot even begin to explain her biology material that I tried to familiarise myself with.  I really cannot begin...or end!  All I know is that I was reduced to tears somewhere in the middle.  Sobs of horror!  I sobbed in horror!  That's the only way I can describe it.  I'd rather have dinner with Freddy Kruger on a Friday than be in school now to face THAT biology!  Lindsie said that Paige sent her a message before she left for school this morning, saying…”As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death.”  ‘Nuf said!  I mean, they didn't even have the decency to put it in English!  I don't speak Chinese.  Our Biology?  Was in English.  And I am fully aware of the changing of times and of the fact that I finished high school…….GULP!  Twenty....2 years ago? 

Goddd, 365 and a quarter times 22…………….O_O…………………I need a minute.  To calm down while I am groped into the realization of just how old I really am.  This is what happens when you celebrate your 25th birthday so many times, about nine times and then just simply stop counting.  All it takes is a moment of reflection about the difference between then Biology and now Whatever THAT’S called.  Myself is looking at me all confused right now, with that “ Woah!!!  So, you mean I'm not 34?!!!” expression.  I’m trying not to make eye contact.  My deception has caught up to myself who is continuing to rant like…”How did this happen?  I thought we had more time!  How could it be?  That the curtain is closing on me!?  CrAp!  Thought we were having a moment but it’s just Eminem….being shady...under a slim tree. 

What is it though about the fear of getting old?  Especially for women?  You very seldom hear about men lying about their age.  Unless they’re trying to do something they have no business doing.  Us?  We lie for totally different reasons.  We don’t ever up our age like men will sometimes do.  And at that point, they’re not even fully grown men, they’re in the middle of acting like men but thinking like boys.  For a woman, I don’t think the fear of ageing has much to do with a hindsight view of what you have achieved versus what you set out to achieve.  I believe, very strongly, that it has everything to do with wondering which unfortunate day we will awake to find our kneecaps sagging.   We’re so against ageing that we’ve made it as close to illegal as we could get it, for a man to even ask us how old we are!  Where the first thing they do if they have the audacity to commit such a heinous crime, is apologize in some sort of way first, then ask…then duck!

Been thinking a lot as I walk a step closer into my 40^th year of life about the fact that there are many things I would have done differently, if given the chance.  BUT?!  I want to be exactly where I am, today.  It may seem as though that makes no sense, but to me it makes all the sense in the world because right now, this day, this minute, this second?  I have someone beside me who keeps pushing me and keeps picking me up to make sure that when I look back on my life, I would only see truth in the saying…”You’re never too old to…”   There was a time when I wanted to be a mechanic.  It was that whole BMX bike era.  I savored my greasy chain slipping off, or my tyre being punctured because it would give me a chance to turn my bike upside down and be the mechanic I was aspiring to be.  In my mind.  Still today, even if it doesn’t involve grease?  And Paige put me off that movie totally.  I regret the day I ever introduced her to Danny and Sandy.  But, I love putting things together, fixing things and getting all dirty in the process.  Which is ironic because I wasn’t able to do that with my own life until a mechanic found my chain broken and turned me upside down and fixed me without caring how greasy a job that was. 

The sight of parts of wood, a screwdriver and packet of screws?  It excites the living daylights out of me.  I remember how special my BMX was too, it came with a radio.  So I would ride it around with its radio attached and wouldn’t care that I would get more ggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg than actual radio coverage.  What mattered was, was that I had a special BMX.  Sandpaper it.  Respray it.  Those were the days that I wish Paige had a chance to experience, not so much Damon, because he is experiencing that for the most part.  The age of technology has stolen many potential cherished memories from our kids, which is sad and to a huge extent, our fault, because we had the best of times playing barefoot.  Playing games like stocking, harbor in the air, harbor on the ground, three tins, rollerskating, biking, breakdancing…doing the worm on the concrete with newly formed breasts, Claudine directing an entire concert with us and then getting all our parents on chairs outside while we performed proudly for them, Christmas Caroling in every home in our neighbourhood in the rain and white dresses and then going to the beach with the money we’d raised, my favourite games; kenecky and hopscotch, K.I.N.G spells King…STOP, kicking a piece of the top of my big toe off in the same spot almost every month, run inside when the video for We Are The World came on TV and then run back out hoping that it’s not soon that my friend would tell me, “Stacey, you called!”  Three most hated words.  By then, both me and my radio would be very much in tune on our way home “gggggggggggggggggggggggg!”  Good times. 

I don’t know how Chinese Biology just did that…

Formicophilia, my ANT!

I just read on some weird and interesting facts site that “ 'Formicophilia' is the fetish for having small insects crawl on your genitals.”  It caused me to inhale very deeply.  And cough.  Even though you can’t tell, I’ve stopped typing……………………………………. ……………………….instead I’ve stared laboriously out of my office window…………………. …………………desperately needing to evade those words ………………………. o_O  ……….   ………………………………………. Stared at the silent telephone to the left of my computer ………………mentally pleading for a distraction….. O_O …………………………..………….. ………………………..… ……………………….………………………………………………….. O_o …………………… just…A LOT.  Of staring, needing and pleading.  I will never look at an ant the same again.  Never really wanted to look at an ant in the first place, but now, each time I flick one or squish one, I’ll have this vision in my mind about it crawling.  They generally don’t walk up straight, I know…I know that but this has single-handedly ruined my disinterest in looking at ants altogether.  This?  THIS is how fetish gets a bad name. 

I’m gonna change the subject to the one I saw about a boy who had a tooth growing out of his foot rather.  Wait?  A tooth is meant to grow out of a gum, not plain ol’ flesh, isn’t it?  So this poor boy had a small piece of gum on his foot where the tooth grew out of?  Annnnnnd…back to the staring out of windows………………………………all I can hear is…………. “Simon!  Go brush your foot!  You’re gonna be late for school!”  Uhm-m!  Uhmmmmmm-m! 

Someone’s tryna pull my leg that is attached to my toothless foot!  I’m not buying any of this.  I’m not buying how someone can sit still through a mass of small insects crawling on their sensitive parts, and neither am I buying that the whole tooth growing out of the foot thing.  Won't he have a footooth-ache every time he tries to wear shoes? 

I think people sit and make this stuff up solely out of boredom.  Just like they sit and send out emails about how I won millions of pounds in the Yahoo draw.  Clearly the same person has come up with all of this.  I see that pattern of their inability-ness to make a story believable! 

Wow!  It just hit me too.  This bored little soul might also be trying to fill up the empty hours of each day as he/she waits expectantly for WHAM to respond to them.

Still nothing…

I was hoping I'd never have to talk about this ever but for some reason my mind has galloped like a shiny black horse to a time when I was so obsessed with WHAM, that I wrote them a letter and asked if I could sing in their band!  I hide in humiliation.  Needless to say, their reply hasn't reached me...yet!  And when it does, I'm going to send them back a stinking response on manners and appropriate fanmail response time!  What if I passed up every single work opportunity, waiting?  If I didn't wanna be tied down in case they said yes?  My life would be ruined.  I'd be an idiot with a ruined life!  Waiting for WHAM!  "Wake me up, before you learn how to respond to fanmail!"  THAT should have been their first big hit!  Not, "Wake me up, before you go!"  Why would I wake you up before anything when you can't even get that person who pretends to be you to reply to a letter I wrote almost three decades ago?  And I know you weren't singing to me George, although in my little heart, I believed that you were.  I'm just saying.  Last I checked, I wasn't an alarm clock.

What prompted that thought was a sleepwalking, redheaded skater, named Luther who turned into a rapper called DJ PJ when he was asleep.  Yes, yes, I was stuck watching Disney Channel again!  Like it’s not enough that I've been visited by Influenza!  But as I sit here, I'm grateful for what I have…saw on the news yesterday morning that some people were visited by Rabies.  I'm not even gonna joke about that.  I know you want me to but uh-uhhhh!  That wouldn't be me Rambling Responsibly!  That's serious.  THAT's something to write home about!  Although I wouldnt wanna receive a letter from anyone saying, "Heyyyyyyy, how have you been?  Me?  I'm just chilling.  In the hospital. With Rabies!"  I'd have to immediately wonder what the hell they're doing writing letters at a time like that and whether they carry their letter pad and pen wherever they go.  Obviously, that letter wouldnt come from George Michael and Andrew Ridgely of WHAM!  By now, we all know theyyyyyy don't know how to write letters! 

And then I'd remember how my parents named most of our dogs, Sheba!  We didn't know why, and it wasn't something any of us questioned at the time.  We would just be like, "Sheba?  Ok!  Did Lovey dye your hair while we were asleep?  Stretch your le....oh okay, you're Sheba the 3rd!"  They did single one out and named him Choonooks.  Maybe he threatened to give them Rabies. 

The doctor on tv said that all it takes is contact of saliva from an infected dog?  That's what you call a sick lick!  Hey, if you're like me, first thing you're asking yourself is why are you contacting your dogs saliva?  You'd have been better off contacting WHAM!  Since that type of contact results in ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!  There's JUST no scenario, that I can come up with that would convince me that contact with dog saliva is just part of your daily routine.  You don't need to kiss the dog, on the mouth?  Wave, it'll still wag its little tail and know that you're leaving!  If you're bitten, then I understand and I thought that that was the only way a human could be infected with Rabies. They didn't teach us that in school!  They didn’t teach us anything about Rabies in school actually.  I would have remembered if I'd forgotten that.  What they did decide to teach us was how to grow a bean.  

Random Love

Woke up with a burning question today and because you can’t see me, I’m just gonna come right out and ask.  What's your favourite position?  Since it’s my blog and I'm the one asking the questions, I'll go first...legs crossed!  Even when I'm doing it at work.  It doesn't bother me who walks in, whose watching or whether or not it looks uncomfortable.  Be it on my bed, in the bath, the couch, on the kitchen counter!  Cross-legged is my ultimate SITTING position!  And now?  I'll give you a second to get your bearings after your eyes just scanned the room, self-conciously...as if your dirty mind left allllllllll it's windows wide open...heh-heh-heh-heh.  Shameful, I telya!

But now that the ice has been broken...welcome to my 24th blog entry and if it's your very first visit to my special space in Cyber City, I hope that it's not the last.  Like my wise man once said, why wait for Valentines Day to show your woman how much you love her?  It’s within that spirit that I randomly chose to celebrate my 24th blog entry.  Blog entries need love too you know.  Granted, you don't have to shower them with gifts, but a mere mention of how much you appreciate them taking the time to listen to you, the way they take your words and hold onto them forever?  Just sohhh touching!

Do you have plans for Valentines Day?  Next year?  The first thing you should do, is check the weather.  Especially if you're the picnic type.  Or the…dry type.  Unexpected rain could really just dampen the mood.  For me, ‘cause I don't get to see Geese for about 350 days of the year, I'd be happy just sitting and eating a bowl of cereal with him.  But for those of you who do get to see your significant other's daily?  I hope your big toenail falls off...on Valentines Day!  A-HEM!  No I don't!  I didn't mean that!  I didn't even TYPE that!  My thumbs have a mind of their own at times and because they don’t want to get into any kind of trouble, they just use me to do their dirty work.

Valentine's Day is way too commercialised now, isn't it?  And we women love that, don't we?  We love the mammoth amount of pressure put on our men to spoil us rotten on that particular day.  And then you wonder why he's developed stress disorders that only flare up in the second month of the year.  Meanwhile, both parties have been an equal fraction of the relationship everyday up to the 13th of February.  Once it hits midnight?  The scale then become so lobsided that it'd make a depressed Libran jealous…this is how it looks…O_.. 

Gone are the days of it being a card and a little heart chocolate from a secret admirer.  Close your eyes dreamily and envision it with me….You?  Spending the day wondering if he grew a set enough to come and at least talk to you.  Him?  Wondering how to grow a set enough to come and at least talk to you.  Just a wondrous day of potential growth. 

In the last couple of decades though, it’s become a card, a chocolate, flowers that have to be delivered to your workplace so that you can be the envy of the entire office, your hair and nails, lingerie, an outfit for the dinner he's paying for, a teddybear, and an all expenses paid trip away...and notice, I’ve put those in alphabetical order for you too, or else he is theeeee worst boyfriend / husband evVver!  “You don’t love meeee…you forgot the chocolate!  How am I supposed to feel appreciated and adored and honoured with just…just…a card, a teddybear, flowers that you had to deliver to my workplace so that I could be the envy of the entire office, an outfit for the dinner you paid for, my hair and nails, lingerie, and an all expenses paid trip away?  How?  How could you forget the chocolate?”

What about the fact that just the week before that, he sent you out to the spa for the day?  For you time.  But psssssssssst!  Come closer, I need to whisper.  Don’t wanna tip him off and then he knows we know…be careful, it may be a setup if a full body massage is included in the package.  Then there's a good chance that he might be trying to make sure that you're not mobile enough to care about Valentines Day.  So if, come the 7th of February?  He hands you a full body massage voucher?  Run away screaming and be thankful that you read my blog today.  Shew!  My shoulders tensed up just thinking about it.

But the world of trade has just taken a day that is meant to be celebrated with more appreciative gestures and put a very high price-tag on what should actually not leave men all through the land completely broke.  All in the name of love.  Blasphemous bastards!  I say, protest.  And really, I don’t actually know who’s side I’m on here.  I just know that the women are looking at me right now like…”Honestly, Traitor?  Do you actually have a vagina?”        

Falling Lashes

Once upon a time, in a square room, there sat a woman in a green sweatsuit who didn't want to go to work. She dreamed of winning the national lottery, even though she never bought tickets, so that she could laugh evily, like this, BWAA-HA-HA-HA, at those who had to wake before the crows. How wonderous, she thought, would it be to simply claim each hour of the day as her own. Her mouth curved into a barely visible smile as she took this fantasy one step further. It tickled her tonsils, O_o, which left her confused as hell as to why her tonsils reacted to not being governed by a start and end time of an eight hour shift! Romeo, Romeo, Where for art thou, Romeo! Wait, wrong story! Silence is golden in a world so loud, she reflected, but oh, what a glorious life it would be to never hear the sound of her cellphone alarm again. Her eyes twinkled under her long fluttering lashes but when her right one began to tear up, she realized that it wasn't because of the depth of her fantasy but instead because one had fallen into her eye. As her finger found its way onto her eyeball, she moaned at the fact that, even her eyelashes were falling in protest at being apart at this dark hour and that all that she could take from this reflective moment was a red eye and the fact that she had to head off to work. DRAT!!!!

Sent via my BlackBerry from Vodacom - let your email find you!

Dance, Disprin and Deception

I haven't danced in a class since April! That is a crime of grave proportions :-( ! And something I honestly adored doing. Turning 40 this year, I still imagine myself in the back row at dance class, wayyyy pass the age of 65. I did, however, take into consideration what I would look like chewing my own gums, wearing a bandana and baggy dance pants, krumping. Like a very, very, very old person in a bandana and baggy dance pants, krumping, I'm sure, but see the worry in my eyes! Haaaaaaaahhahahaha, I just saw that I typed the word, banana!! Good lord, I don't wanna be a 70 year old wearing baggy dance pants, krumping in a banana! Annnnnnnnnd now my ears are on fire!

An old wives tale tells me that THAT means that I am the unfortunate subject of scandal! I shall ignore the fact that I feel sick, and that it could be a symptom of my mystery illness! But, hmmmmmmm? I purse my lips as I wonder.....I realllllly hope they aren't changing my sexual preference aGaiNNNN! I told them very nicely that I'd like to be in on that the next time.

That seems less important to me right now though in comparison to what I'm asking me. What I'm asking me is? Who were the old wives and how did they come up with these tales? Let's take a minute and use the current situation as an example. My ears are red and burning. And see, I'm just. Not. Well this weekend. I just had to correct that my ears READ. Sighhhh. Let's rather, for caution sake and for the sake of not giving my ears more credit than they deserve, we'll just say, they're in the state that they're in, which means someone's talking about me. So they had this club right? The old wives. Did all but one of them sit in a corner, for experimental reasons, have a thick gossip session about the one they left sitting on a chair in the middle of the room with a thermometer stuck in each ear? She would be the specimen, wouldn't she? Until, VIOLA!!!! Thermometers reach boiling point! Ears on fire! And then? Ye Ol' Secretary of the Old Wives Club, promptly records the cause and reaction! How would you explain the one about your left eyelid jumping? Or your right palm itching? Or the middle of your back cracking?

Whaaat?!! Oh, you haven't heard that one? Lemme tell you what it means 'cause I'm informative like that! Knowledge is power. Sharing is caring and tomorrow's your mother in law, I mean, Monday! That means you went for a massage and the following day, you could barely move your body from the neck down! Mmmmmmm-mmm! Happened to me. I went from the flat bed of a massage parlor to a flat bed in a chiropractors office! The man cracked bones he didn't even know I had. Don't listen to them when they say that massages are all relaxing and calming and beautiful and all you envision is a field full of swaying daisies and tall blades of green grass. Maybe while you're getting it done. But the morning after? All you are seeing is everything on your right because you can't turn your head to the left. You will have to take me by forklift for another one of those full body massages. What was worst was that I was looking forward to it! It was my first EVER massage! I dedicated my facebook statuses for an entire WEEK to that massage! Countdowns..."Three days to my first massage!" Smiley faces, exclamation marks, the works! Al my friends that I've never ever met or spoken to, were happy for me! Damn massage! It was a damning massage! That massage damn hurt me! But I'm fine now. I'm over it. As you can clearly see, I have let it goooooh!

I can't handle it when people over-rate things, you know? Like my mum? She has a habit of telling me, disprin? "You take a disprin! Instantly the pain or fever is gone!" Noooh! No! Disprin is great, I won't deny that but instantly? Ma? Really! Or does it only happen when I'm not the one taking it? I must have a bunch of those anti-instant-reactive-molecules in my blood system or something. You cannot tell your child, INSTANTLY, when it takes about 30 minutes to an hour to kick in, especially when you made her with her heart and stomach organs totally opposite to every other 8000 human beings! Haven't you done enough? That's just wrong. In my books, that's just crossing the invisible line. I swear, I'd be able to handle it, if she told me it took an hour to stop the pain.

Little white lies are meant to be like, "Awwww my Sweet, they didn't have a pink pen at the store," when you know full well, you completely forgot to look for a pink one. Little white lies don't apply to medication. What if I left my headache 'til the last minute and then took a disprin? Then I'd be under the impression that in the blink of an eye, I'd have INSTANT relief! Meanwhile, back at Lovey's house? We didn't live on a ranch. I'd still suffer for another hour.

Sent via my BlackBerry from Vodacom - let your email find you!

To Mock a Blogger

I've just been corrected by the ex, and pay attention, because I clearly wasn't! Geese will tell you that when I have too much on my mind, focusing becomes a huge problem. He's always the one then clearing the path so that I don't fall into the thorn bushes of distraction.

And the correct way of doing this would have been, verify, type, post, noooooooh, I typed, posted and then verified...so I sent him a message to ask him if he remembered this day, simply because Paige couldn't remember half of it and I needed to tell it how it went...and guess what? I got my story straight! Nnnnnnnn...well? More like most of it! The part I got wrong was the actual culprit! The actual culprit was HIM! He was like, "Yes I remember I threw it on the roof I was hungover and she came crying in the room...." And my rightful response was..."OH! craP! I lied! I am a blogging liar! How will I ever live with myself?!? I. Am. Shame! Shame is meeeee!" And then a voice said, by now you guys know exactly whose voice is my reason! Geese said to me...."You will be respected more if you got up on your blog and admitted that you made a mistake, apologized for it and fixed it. It would be the right thing to do. There is no shame in that. Shameful would be if Lyle commented on your blog and showed you to be lying!"

So! Here I am. Correcting my mistake, absolving Lyle of all blame and pouring it alllllll solely on my ex, where it rightfully belongs! He was the Swivel, Swinger and Releaser of the story, not Lyle...poor Lyle, sorry Lyle, I just made you out to be a cold hearted dead bird flinger in places as far as Germany. I have defamed your character! I have blackened your name amongst bird lovers everywhere! I have...Okay, Geese's voice told me that I'm over-overing! So, I shall bid farewell to you all for tonight...in silence...
Sent via my BlackBerry from Vodacom - let your email find you!

To Mock a Bird

The weather hovers over me like a growling greyish black pitbull on the verge of lockjaw today. But I'm not gonna dwell on that. Because this! Is a happy place! ^_^! The sun is shining, birds achirping, probably some cat on its seventh life meeeeowing somewhere too!

Do you have a pet? I don't. My lack of patience limits me. My daughter is the pet lover in this abode, hence her obsession with the Lion King and naming her late dog, Tooloos after a french cat from Aristocats.

She had to have been five just turning six when Marie died...twice! It was a Saturday morning when Paige came sobbing into our bedroom, "Marie's dead!" Marie was the first of about six or seven birds that she'd have up to now. Snow lasted the longest.

While the light at the end of the comfort tunnel seemed to become brighter and brighter, her father told Lyle to then SECRETLY dispose of the dead bird? Mannnn?! Jussssss like you are right now? I was also falsley led to believe that the saga would there. Who would have figured that not only was it NOT the end, but it would turn out to be even more traumatising than her waking all full of five year old glee, rushing to Marie's cage to whistle a good morning to her, only to find that even for a Saturday, Marie looked a teeny bit too laid back.

I mean how long would it have taken to find a nice spot in the yard, get the spade out, dig a neat hole, lay Marie to rest, cover it, pat it flat with the back of the spade, plant some grass...okay, the grass planting was too far, but how long would it have taken to dispose of the bird in an appropriate fashion?

Obviously way too long for Lyle! All he did was pick it up, walk outside, swivel and then swing his arm like he was bowling for the national cricket team, and fling poor little feathery deceased Marie through the air onto the garage roof! As if she hadn't been through enough already! And in the spirit of true story telling, lemme be a little more specific, on the very EDGE of the garage roof. Unbeknown to Mr. Swing, Swivel and Release, he was being closely watched by a salivating black and white Jack Russell called Sadie. Sadie must have given birth to about 700 pups throughout her years, don't judge, just be nice...I know words that start with the second letter of the alphabet are flooding from your brain to your lips right now, but...don't! But each time she gave birth, she seemed to have shrunk somwhat. The same dog that if someone walked into the yard, would first do a lap around the house and THEN sniff around to see if it was an intruder! Pffffft! Absent for watchdog class, but first in line for go forth and multiply class! Unfortunately none of her litter army can help her now that she is being slow tortured in animal heaven by Marie and her bird gang called "The Ruffled Feathers" Sadie watched in the shadows as Lyle retreated into the house while she strutted deviously across the lawn, taking a moment here and there to sniff her own ass or scratch her rib, basically just trying to act natural! Sniffing her own ass was just her way of looking back, naturally of-course, to check whether Lyle was back in the house and that the coast was clear!

Our late little feathered friend however, was just about hanging from her toenail on the edge of the garage roof, and once Sadie reached the garage, Marie's toenail musta gave out!

Well? After just getting her settled down, she then skipped, she's a skipper, ask anyone, she then skips outside to turn to Sadie for support and love, to her absolute horror, Paige witnesses Marie's second death! She runs back in and starts screaming, "Sadie's eating Marie!!!!" Hysterics again! Sigh! And who would blame the poor child?

It was only then that we discovered that when Lyle was sent to dispose of the bird, he felt as though since under normal circumstances? She wouldn't get to feel and experience the soothing power of sunbathing dead on top of the garage roof, he'd very considerately give her the chance to now. Guess he figured that sunburn wouldn't be a major discomfort for her anyway!
Sent via my BlackBerry from Vodacom - let your email find you!

Retrospective Turn

Well, it’s Friday once again and who can complain about that, right?  Right?!?  I have no idea what awaits me this weekend, except that little Summer will be here looking for bubblegum in my bag.  I tried to get in a sneak, but my weekend horoscope told me that it may be the ideal time for me to start on my first novel.  O_o!!  Really?  Looks like someone’s been popping Rivotrol and sleeping on the job since I’m already on my second one.  Maybe that post was directed at that other Libran chick…therrrrrre…way out in yonder...can you see her?  There...jusssss a little to your left....the one that looks as though she’s about to start writing her first novel.  

So in light of that, I tread carefully and very retrospectively into this weekend.  I’ve never been a fan of the unknown.  Even some of the known, like cockroaches.  Found out earlier this week that at some point I’m going to have to conquer that phobia.  My epiphany came when I insisted to my son that he sweep out the unlucky one that met its death, choking on Doom.  He promptly said to me, “Be a man for once in your life.”  My first instinct was to tell him that I don’t have all the body parts necessary to even attempt that, but I instead convinced him via his ego that since he is the man of the house, he should do it.  He did it, meanwhile?  My daughter who had just sent me a picture of herself sitting on the edge of a very tall building on Sunday, followed by this message…”I live on the edge, literally!”  Wouldn’t budge either.  I found myself at the mercy of a boy who told me to be a man and a young lady who would rather dangle her legs over tall buildings than sweep out a dead cockroach.

As I traipse with much weary, along the lines of this page, I will admit that this has been a week that I’m quite happy to see over and done with and more importantly one that I don’t know how the rest of my life will be affected by.  It’s been one of those where you wish you could somehow go back and start over…on Tuesday.  You ever had one of those?  Yeah?  Well, I’m glad to see that someone understands.  Nevertheless though, it IS Friday and I love Friday’s as much as I love sunflowers before they wilt, dry up and die.  Friday is like the chilled out Barry White of the week.  Doesn’t matter how much work you have piled on your desk, Friday just whispers in your ear, in a smooth, soothing voice…”Take it easy, baby.  Monday’s about stressing.”  And I tend to take Friday’s advice, most times.  Friday’s my friend. 

Before I forget, Lyle, Congrats on your graduation today.  I’m very proud of you.  Mannnnn…I remember how it felt to wear that black gown and cap.  Can’t for the life of me recall what woke me up from that dream, but it felt like such an accomplishment…not the dream, my dream degree!  Threw my cap up with my dream class and everything!  

Well, I'm not staying her for too long today, I have work to finish!  HAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!  Yeah, that was hilarious.  Friday's ROTFLitsAO too!

Hey, did you see that story in the newspaper today?  Me neither, lemme go read it so I have something to make fun of… A-HEM, I mean, Ramble Responsibly about tomorrow.

Blogsession

Okay, I lied…The blog was calling me!  Staaaaaaaceeeeeeey!  Sttttttacccccey!  I've become onnnne with the blog!  Hummmmmmmmmmmm!  Blog and Me!  And for those of you who don’t know, that's a knockoff of Michael Jackson's Album Title: Music and Me!  I love blogging so much, I just might name my third child after it.  And I have now paused.......................like this.....................in awe of my own obsession!  Blogsession.  And this is why pausing is so good for you!  You’re able to dig deep within yourself and diagnose your own diseases and say…Hi.  My name is Stacey and I have Blogsession!

It would have just been rude to ignore the pleas of a blank page yearning to be filled by words and sentences and paragraphs.  Ay, I’m not here to poke fun at the yearnings of others.  I am only here to help where I can.  Some pregnant people yearn for pieces of brick…to eat.  Nobody makes fun of them.  They just get away with being allowed to wish for anything in the name of pregnancy and you poor guys, heh-heh-heh-heh!  I’m shaking my head because I knowwwwww.  I know at some point, some pregnant woman, and I hope it was a woman, but at some point, you took full advantage of the fact that anything you said you wished for while you were pregnant?  Your man would run out and get it for you, huh?  I never did that.  All I did was crave the perfect hamburger, that I never ever found.  L  Until I discovered the Wendy’s Spicy Chicken Burger on the corner of 69^th Street…unfortunately that was 16 years after my search began!  If that’s not a true voyage of discovery…a show of dedication, I don’t know what is!

But you there, I see you trying to slowly tip-toe away from the computer screen right now, hoping your man doesn’t come back bent over heaving from sprinting to the store and back and be like, “What you reading, Babygirl?”  BUSTED!!!  In your defence though, I’m sure on some level, he knew that you weren’t really wishing for a pack of wooden pegs at two in the morning.  Specially since you have a dryer and no laundry line in the courtyard.  You just needed space, didn’t you?  Well, why didn’t you just tell him?  “Love, I’m wishing for some space.”  He’ll run right out, if he loves you orrrr if he possesses the fear of the fury of pregnancy hormones, he’ll run right out and when he reaches the grocery store and finds that they don’t actually sell space, it’ll then click that all you were asking him to do was sleep on the couch for the night. 

Pregnancy not only affects a woman.  Your man loses all sense of calm in the midst of it too.  The peg example I just gave you, clearly proves that.  A woman I worked with?  Her husband had morning sickness and the works.  Now that’s love!  I didn’t laugh, out loud, because it was a very real situation, but all I kept thinking was, how does that work?  Is it because the couple is THAT connected that her pain is his pain, or her need to puke is his need to puke?  Who had dibs on the cravings…like would she have to run out at midnight, seven months pregnant to get him some countersunk pozi woodscrews to chew on?  I’m seriously curious and I should have asked at the time, but it was the first I’d heard such a thing, so I was shocked into silence.

But blogging…ahhhhhhhhh, this is freedom of speech right here.  Yet?  Meet me in person?  And you might not get more than a paragraphs worth of speech outa me!  Geese always tells me that I am a lot more comfortable with the written word than I am with speaking.  I shan’t argue but I dunno, there's just something about being able to backspace and delete, you know?  And please, before I begin to receive hate mail from parents and partners alike, do not follow my example on that.  I’ve learnt through the years that being able to talk face to face, is just as important as not running butt naked in the streets.  They both keep you out of a lot of trouble.  Maybe it’s because of the lisp I used to have in school, and then being asked over and over to say, She Sells Sea Shells on the Sea Shore.  I may have tried to protest against that by simply deciding not to over speak.  Could be shyness?  But then again, it could just be that one gets tired of talking and not being heard.  

Presently Absent!

There will be no blog today. I've decided not to come up on here and write anything.
Sent via my BlackBerry from Vodacom - let your email find you!

Preposterous Powerlessness

Well?  The newspaper said that the police were scarcely populated on the city streets this week, thanks to an instruction for them not to upset or incite the taxi drivers!  ROTFLMAO!!!!  A-hem!  Please give me a minute to dust myself off and promptly begin laughing hysterically again…HAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!  What a shocker!  NOT!  They said, "JUST stop us!  Just STOP us!  WE SHALL TEAR THIS CITY APART!"  And muttered as they walked away..."!?'# stop us ?!:/ be sorry #*$/ no steering wheel ?*&%# stop anywhere ?!/# our *&%^ roads!"

And way to come together in the spirit that is South Africa...!  Wow, I put my hand on my heart and tried to remember the words to our national anthem while I watched that.  I failed dismilly but dammmmn, I felt so rainbow nationish when I saw the clip of the White man and the Black man getting caught defacing the infamous Spear painting of our President and well?  His famous spear!  Disclaimer: I say that with the greatest of respect!  The poor Black man was headbutted and choke slammed like a WWE wrestler on a bad night, which I believe was totally unnecessary.  He may have been an inspiring actor in his day and this was his only chance to show the world how action-movie skilled he is.  That security guard saw cameras pointed at him and somehow seemed to have heard!  "ACTION!"  He's waiting for a call from the drama series, The Wild now.  But all that violence came after his third attempt to reach over his shoulder and pull out those plastic ties from a pocket or pouch on the top of his BACK.  Whyyyyyyyyy exactly is it not in your top pocket on the FRONT of your uniform?  I'd hate to think about where your flashlight is hidden!  Spear comes to mind.  Ewwwwwwness! But anyway, they were promptly arrested. 

Unlike the taxi drivers who could kill a small army on the road daily, meanwhile it makes sense that they should be left alone, in peace, to do it!  Our beloved SA police force, such a considerate bunch, really!  Just makes a person wanna hug a cop.  Shame, lemme give them their due, from what I could tell by that article in yesterday’s Mercury, the police, who work, were not at all impressed by that.  They sat…and sulked…some took a half-day’s leave, but they listened as instructed, nonetheless.  Those who weren’t issued with guns or pepper spray…said a silent, “Thank you!” prayer and continued on their voyage to someday becoming real cops.  At least now though, there is once more, calm in the city.  Just wish it was because the law extended its hand and…NO!  No, that would just be wishful thinking on my part.  BUT?!?  All's well that ends like shit and the lesson to be learnt from this is, when and if we're at war one day, the taxi drivers should be our negotiators! 

"Retreat into the darkness of surrender and defeat, else we shall find better use for our sports equipment!" 

"DRAT?!?  How will we ever match up to that?!  All we have are these?...these fully loaded guns?!!!" (Hint-hint person in charge of justice!) 

Annnnnnnnd....War over! 

But you guys who have been getting arrested over and over and over for drinking and driving, you should use this to your full advantage, come-on now, stop sleeping at the wheel, drunk.  Take a stand!  Unite in all that is fair and just!  With all of the roadblocks and everything lately, how much in fines are you guys raking in?  How does it compare to your salary?  What’s the price of eggs?  Ignore that last question.  Stand together in protest so that you can drink and drive, in harmony!  Baseball bats or golf sticks should do, you don't wanna totally carbon copy the taxi drivers and use hockey sticks, but I say strike while the iron is hot!  Drink and drive during peak hours, YEAHHHHH!  >_<  And see?  Can you see just how ridiculous THAT SOUNDED?!  That's my opinion on this taxi issue. It's preposterous that our law is so powerless.  Preposterous, I say!  Now just for fun, try saying that fast, three times, when you get caught for drinking and driving.

History...Not Cool!

Can't believe it's almost the middle of the year. I'll NEVER forget last year this time! It was May, 22. Other than that? Ay, I got nothing. At least I know I'm still good at remembering dates! Don't get clever and start asking about when Vasco da Gama sailed from Portugal. All you'll get outa me is a blank stare and a few blinks.

I could never hold onto that history stuff for longer than I had to. Once I'd written that final examination, my brain very considerately moved out all of the old history information to make way for the new! My dad? Geese? Even Russia! They have possessive brains. Their brains were like, "I'm never letting you go, history information! You're mine forever!" I'm thinking about when I was over in Philadelphia last year, not this time, and Russia asked me if I knew about...about? ShiT!? See? I can't even remember what piece of history he was asking me about, it was something about a country, Russia I think and killing and deserted parts of areas. Anyway, when I stared back at him, painfully unknowledgeable about the subject, he looked at me and shook his head and said, "Not cool!" I should have come back with asking him how to knit a slouch cap, to get that same blank look from him, but I was too busy thinking, "He must think I'm an idiot. But godammm, his resemblance to Jesus? It's just uncanny!" Next time though? I'll be ready! I'll be proactive next time. Minute he says in his Russian-American accent, Stacey? Do you know..." in any way that sounds like a history question might follow? I'll just blurt out..."How many stitches do you cast on for a slouch cap?" My smirk might be short-lived when I find out that all he wanted to know, was what time it was, but one of those times...one of those times? Will be the right time!

Haaaaahahahahhaa, my mum just said, "I bought a SPOOL for my camera and it refused to work!" Damon's response; "A WHAAAAAT?!?" Millenium Babies! They missed out on all the good stuff! If we had digital camera's when I was in matric, I'd have more than three photo's of my matric ball right now. The spool wouldn't rewind, these spools I telya! So my brother opened it, and just pulled, exposing the entire spool as if he was in a dark room! Grrrrrrrrrrrrr! You'd think if one knows how to run a company, they'd know how not to mess up your matric ball pictures! O_o !
Sent via my BlackBerry from Vodacom - let your email find you!

An event...

Not one book! Not one book in this doctor's surgery! They should be reported to the medical board for this. And the TV channel is in Zulu. I speak English and some kitchen Zulu. What's kitchen Zulu? You put the word "lor" in front of every English noun. Like, "Caroline, please eat lor food in lor pot in lor fridge!" Aside from medical treatment, everybody is well aware that you expect magazines, both old and new, in a pile in the corner of the waiting area! Some even turn their backs slowly towards the reception area, roll them up and slip it into their bags because there is a weightloss article or a puzzle that they just won't leave without or they try to tear out those particular pages, as noise-lessly as possible. It would go like this...COUGHtear, COUGHtear, COUGHtear! And the reason I'm here is because my son is not well.

And now we've just come out from seeing the doctor but for the first time at the doctors', he took an injection and he took it...like a BOSS! Me? I'd swallow 57 tablets and an olive, three times a day before I volunteer for one of those. Yesss, I've had injections in my time. Twice, not counting when blood is being drawn or at the dentist when then too, he has to rub on numbing gel first. No wonder Geese calls me a chicken! Those two particular times were in the midst of childbirth. Quick ones in the thigh. At that point, I'm like "You know what? That needle doesn't scare me. Run on my chest with studded football boots, hang me by my toenails for all I care? Inject every hair follicle on my left side, just...do it! I'm busy with more PRESSING issues right now."

Childbirth is both amazing and terrifying, specially with your second child. The chilling memories of Childbirth, The First Edition, comes flooding back! But the most extra-ordinary thing about it, for me? It's that, THAT PAIN! The excruciating pain of contractions where it's like a fist inside your body that's gripped your insides, and is just twisting them at eventual two minute intervals? Our body's are such marvelous creations, the way they just know how to dilate like that, so cute, and part the insides of your body like Moses did with the Red Sea...Wow! I was impatient though, for my second birth, "Did you say? 9cm's? Good enough for me! I saw the scan, his head wasn't THAT big!" But what amazes me about childbirth and that pain that causes some women to do grevious bodily harm to the doctor as if he put them in that situation? Is that, once your baby's born? It's gone. It's gone and forgotten and all you're thinking about is, which of your baby's facial features come from whose side of the family, while you settle him/her on your chest and start cold shivering and quivering from the fact that someone is no longer living inside your body, and stealing your calcium and ability to turn over in bed...well before the sun rises, that is.

What would it be like if childbirth wasn't an EVENT?! At the beach in your two-piece preggy bikini, enjoying the waves in the ocean and as you walk out, without the bottom on, you turn around and see your baby holding it up screaming..."I'm here! I'm here!" Or you'd be walking in the mall, and DOOF! Out drops the baby, you'd know all's well coz it would be screaming blue murder that you didn't even have the decency to hold it close and warm before you non-chalantly dropped it on its head! You might be waving me off with the back of your hand like, "oh please, that could never happen..." But imagine that? If we never had the signals we have today? Then you come up with better scenario's then, if you wanna shoot down everything I'm saying!

Maybe Eve had a plan afterall? To make childbirth an unforgettable experience! And it is, so very unforgettable. It's painful, but it's a beautiful pain...so give birth gracefully, don't have that buck-wild, crazed look on your face while you're holding the doctors head in a vice-grip with your ankles, yelling, "Get this thing out of me!" That's certainly not Rambling Responsibly...and definitely not the first vision your baby should see of his/her mother.

But most of all, be 100 percent sure that you're ready to have that baby, and that you're having it with a man who will take the time to be both a father and a dad. And if you're a man reading this? The world expects you to make that same careful choice about the woman you've decided to impregnate!
Sent via my BlackBerry from Vodacom - let your email find you!

Winter Unwelcomed!

Am I supposed to be feeling THIS bad for not Rambling Responsibly yesterday? Because I do, but I've given myself a good talking to and unless I get sucked into the Bermuda Triangle, it won't happen again!

Feels as though Winter rhetorically asked, "Look? Do I really have to wait for June?!" because it's suddenly turned brrrrrrrrr in Durban! That's not cool, Winter. It's just rude. You can't just pitch up unannounced like one of the president's new wives. I don't know about you but Summer is the best time of year for me. It's Christmas and hot and tra-la-la-la-lahhh-la-la-la-laaah and all those good things! However, if you Durbanite's think this is cold? I got a rude awakening when I went to see Geese for the first time in 2010! You can look out of the window? And the sun is shining which makes you believe that you don't have to put more than two layers of clothing on! It's a trap! I never for a second thought that the sun, that I've loved every day for all of my life, could be privy to such deceit! All I needed was to take about twenty five steps until my fingers were instinctively drawn up to my nose to check whether it was still attached to my face. Floodgates opened on my tear ducts where my eyes constantly watered, my hands and fingers ached as my nails turned blue, and this was WITH a cute, warm, black coat on! If you want to know what bone chilling really means? Go to the east coast of the US during the start of winter! But for the full experience, go with JUST the clothes you'd wear in winter, here! Other than that, you'd be cheating!

Last here when I went? All my life I've dreamed of seeing snow and I went over October/November to Philadelphia! I kept saying to Geese, I hope it snows, and because he's such a sweetheart, he would keep those hopes up! Well? On the 25th October 2011, out of the blue...sky, it did! For once Pinnochio, the weatherman didn't lie! So I went to bed knowing that they promised me snow, and before my second eye was opened, Geese was like, "Come see"...I flew over to the window and saw these little pieces of ice bouncing off the ledge of the window! "It's SNOWING snowing!!!!!" I could not BELIEVE, that I was looking at SNOW! That it wasn't through a television screen on a Christmas feel-good movie! Apparently, it never snows in October, and to this day I maintain that, THAT snowfall was just for me because it snowed THAT one day and not again while I was there 'til mid November! Geese being Geese was like, "But noohh! Global warming is not something to be taken seriously! Noooooh!"

We put our coats on and went down there, I was in my element! Or more precisely, in the elements! God, it was fuuuuuureezing! And beautiful and TASTY! Yes, I stood there at times with my mouth open and tasted the snow and feeling the gentle caresses of snowflakes upon my face. Don't look at me all crazy, I needed to see if it was like the frost I would scrape off the freezer and eat, and it was EXACTLY THE SAME! Maybe I did see snow. Maybe it was snowing our the deep freeze all those years and I didn't realize it! But wow! What a first experience that was! I didn't care, up to a point, that my entire body was numb, I just cared about the fact that I was walking in REAL snow, with Geese and that it tasted delicious!

Have you ever been addicted to ice? I am. It was worst when I was younger though and no matter how much I was told that I was doing a total disservice to the enamel of my teeth, that was a small price to pay for the pleasure of crunching that ice-cube into small digestible pieces! Until I was up and down to the dentist to start filling my teeth! I remember going to the club and instead of a drink in my hand, I'd have a glass of ice instead! That's what you call a cheap date! Nobody looked at me funny plus you couldn't hear crunch-crunch over the loud music so it was allll good! Except that's obviously not what my teeth were thinking at the time!

And now on my way to the soccer grounds, I see a board on one of the lightpoles with the headline: "Taxi's: WE WANT TO STOP ANYWHERE!!!" They say that as though they don't ALREADY do that! Just another excuse to overturn dirtbins and smash store windows in the city centre...sigh!
Sent via my BlackBerry from Vodacom - let your email find you!

A Merry-less Mock!

So the taxi drivers and conductors are once again running a merry mock in the city centre. Merry should be the last word I use to describe what is going on though. So for all of you, Layken, all of the other people I don't know that were in the midst of the madness? My apologies. Nothing merry about getting dragged out of a taxi window by a hockey stick wielding maniac who clearly didn't enjoy getting that fine day before yesterday! They got together and decided that IF THE POLICE, do their jobs? They will not stand for it! O_o The ONLY time they do their jobs and look what happens? You know you got problems when this goes on. My point is this? If things got so out of control yesterday? I saw the pic of that poor woman, running like the devil was chasing her, on the front page of the Mercury. And why was she running like that? Because the taxi she was in was being stoned and GBH'd the f up!

A driver that was interviewed, complained that he earns R700 per week and is raking in R5000 in fines! Uhhh…? Imbecile?! Nobody is waking up with the sole purpose of driving to where you pass by with your taxi just so that they can stop you to give you a fine! And then still has the nerve to say they want the police to be lenient on them when its peak time! So let's all just run over people, dogs, nuns and twelve dwarfs during peak time, and demand leniency or elllllllse!!!! As a driver, if I am breaking the rules of the road, I should be fined. If I have disregard for other vehicles or the SAFETY of my passengers and those of that car I almost rammed off the road? I should be fined. Taxi drivers simply refuse to abide by the rules of the road, PERIOD! If I'm generalizing? Its only I was a new driver when I dunno how I got into the fast lane? And didn't notice a taxi behind me about seven centimeters from my back bumper! I must have been singing or something. If he could lay on my roof, I'm sure he would have! The freeway wasn't busy and all he needed to do was overtake me or ask me nicely, lady please move! NO! THE BASTARD DID OVERTAKE ME, BUT THEN THE CONDUCTER STARTED THROWING CRACKERS OR POPUPS OR I DUNNO WHAT BUT I JUST KNOW THINGS WERE EXPLODING NEXT TO MY CAR, AS HE PASSED ME! I must have really pissed him off! I was like? WTF! It's not guyfawks! Do you know what a shock to the system that is?!?! Needless to say, I've never driven in the fast lane again! But now they're all up in arms and hockey sticks and panga's and shit, because they're being held accountable? HAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

"Sniff, and they, they always stop us when it's peak time. Sniff, my boss? I told him. These police said, fix up the taxi else that lady is gonna fall out while I'm driving. But now? He never. Now? I got another fine?" Rubs forehead in sadness and despair. "Who is going to pay this? ME? ME? I MUST PAY IT? He is the one who is making me drive this broken taxi! He is the one who said she can fall out, he doesn't care? Now I must pay this fine? Haai, haai…I'm going to get my hockey stick! Just wait right there! Coming back!"

I'm making light of this but it's serious, they ran willlllld yesterday, and today again? Did someone forget that we're not at war and the army's not busy? Or were all their phones on voicemail? Did not-a-body feel it necessary to bring them in to restore order? No! And why? Because our sommmmmmebody was too busy moaning about his very busy willy being flashed on a canvas. It wasn't even his, it was paint. And he needs to be reminded that the more he gets married, the more angry people or artists in particular are gonna get over having one more person to support. Who likes having a surprise guest, that you don't know from Adam, just pitch, and their presence increases your budget! As Nicole says, FOR FREE!
Sent via my BlackBerry from Vodacom - let your email find you!

The Hill Cometh Closer

Why do we need to drive? Can't someone come up with wings that seat five or something? Its not about wanting to be free as a bird, its about when you're stuck in an office park and your toes go numb! I'm just moaning because it was my turn to drive today and I didn't really feel like it…coz I'm tired and no, I'm not telling you why. Hehehehe! Amazing how quickly the excitement wears off after you first learn how to drive. When your driver's license is still scratch-free and smelling of glue, all you wanna do is get into that seat and hold your steering wheel in the 10 to 2 position! How many of you, like me, had an instant preview on the drop of the level of excitement when you saw that you were approaching a hill with a manual car? Automatics for President! And I mean that. Even a machine would do a better job of running this country, but now I'm veering off the topic...back to being injected with steel-tasting fear! By then you're cursing your clutch every filthy word you ever learned or over-heard over the years and if your boyfriend or husband happened to be next to you…you might be directing those words at them about why the hell couldn't you choose someone who had sense enough to insist you bought an automatic! Clutch control?!?! Was a nightmare within a nightmare. You're happy to take two hours on a trip that should have been just 30 minutes, JUST TO AVOID THAT ONE HILL! If you had to carry a five litre empty juice container of petrol in case you ran out, that was fine too…jussssss as long as you don't drive up that hill. I won't lie. If I couldn't avoid the hill, God would hear me 'cause my prayer would be on repeat…I'd be like that Idol's contestant with the Killing Me Softly song...Rrrrreeeemix....Let the robot be green, let the robot be green, let the robot be green…!
I recall so clearly sweating bullets on my way up that hill on the side of Glenardle School! My green beetle switched off. This was what I looked like...O_O! Now if you have one, or had one, you'd know that the pedals are not your normal, soft, cushy, pedals! Hitler built these! They're not supposed to make life easy for you! Him and his peeps were playing nary a game when they built these cars! Like cockroaches? They too will be the only things standing, or crawling or rolling along loudly after a nulcear bomb blows us all to smithereens! At first it feels like you're standing on the pedals, coz they face upwards. Well? I got stuck. I learned this THING right? Luckily too 'cause it saved me from speeding down that hill, petrified, in reverse! Let me teach you, just in case you need it, I'm kind like that. You slant your foot so that its across both the accelerator and the brake pedals, pressing them both at the same time, don't worry if you hear a high revving sound, that means you're doing it right, and some smoke? Okay no, smoke is not good, and as you release your clutch, slowwwwly, you press your foot at the same time, the heel part, slowwwwly, down on the accelerator, and ease off the brakes with your toe part, until you've jerked and hopped the car back into motion! It might not hop and jerk, I'm just putting that in there for beginners. Ay, that method worked for me! If I did jerk, I'd rather the whiplash, than having my neck bent as I tumble with car! But if that method didn't work, I'll admit…I was ready to jump out of the car and just let it roll down that hill. If it hit something or flipped back numerous times and exploded, I'd be sad, because I adored my sexy ol' 196-something VW beetle but then on the flipside, the positive side, if someone just happened to be walking towards me with a camera and just started taking pictures, I could look really cool and action-movie-like, sweaty, cars exploding behind me…I'd have that baddddd-ass, heaving, "say something, I just f'd up a bunch of big dudes and I'm a girl" look on my face, meanwhile all it really would be was the exhaustion of walking up the hill! While I type this I'm thinking of what to call that movie. "That's how we roll" No, that wouldn't work, I was rolling NOWHERE…"That's how IT rolled?" Hmmmm? "STuck and roll?" That sounds too Physical Education-like...some help would be nice...!

Sent via my BlackBerry from Vodacom - let your email find you!

Cross-Legged on a Red Plastic Chair

To my right is a guy with striped shorts and a leopard print tshirt, slops and track jacket. Where are the fashion police when you need them? He would be handcuffed and sent straight to jail, DO NOT PASS BEGIN! When last have I played Monopoly! Lyle's bbm status one day said...It's all fun and games until someone puts a hotel on Eloff Street! Haaaaahahhaaha, I still think that is funny as hell! Hold on a minute while I, ROTFLMAO! We all know that your bank balance will drop a few dress sizes, should you land on a hotelled Eloff Street! I'm ready to declare bankrupsy just looking at the hotel on Eloff Street! My feet are getting numb. Yet I remain cross-legged...'Cause I'm a rebel! A voice just said to me, "Wait til its time for you to walk and the pins and needles start to wear off! Someone will be blogging about how there's someone to their right doing the saintvitis dance!" OH GOD!!! Now, leopard print man just followed a woman with yellow hair, shaved on the sides, the top of it so long, it's standing higher than the cost of living! Joan Rivers would have a field day in this place! Talking about games? About forty two of us went down the South Coast one Easter. You're staring, inquisitively. Why? Its almost as if you thought there was more to the story. We arrived there safe and sound. Annnnnd, still staring...Weather was amazing!?! No? Okay, okay... because its been a long, exciting night, the best I can do is give you keywords!

Holiday apartments-Residential block- Not happy-Tazor gun-Burning tyres-Gasps-Free plumbing-Loud-Scrabble-Cops.

Banned from the South Coast!

Anything...

Do you have a routine that's driving you batty? Yeah? Me too, but lucky for me, tonight I don't have to cook. I found two rocks that I'm serving for dinner. Ay, don't gimme that look, that's what happens when you ask "What must I cook for supper?" And they say "Anything!" Do they know how draining it is thinking about something different to cook, evvvvvery night, then varied lunches, evvvvvery morning and then you reach out for some input from those you sacrificed your perky breasts for just so that they didn't starve, and then what do you get? "Anything!"
The part of your brain that doesn't work after five, tells you? "Awwwwww, look how fortunate I am? What easy-going children I've been blessed with!" You then start thinking of the easiest and quickest thing to cook so that you're not running wild 'til midnight. Like an idiot you begin suggesting dishes. That's when reality strikes 'cause they hit you with, "Uh-uh!" So then you try again and you get, "Not that!"
By now you're more confused than you were before you asked for their help. Your voice raises to that level of aggravation, not yet anger, and you ask, "then WHAT?" And once more, you're faced with the infamous "Anything!" Third time lucky and it's all you need to step into the anger zone which ofcourse wakes the witty bone! "Well the store was out of ingredients for, ANYTHING!" Refrigerator and grocery cupboard doors start swinging open, as you're on the verge of breaking down with, "Jusss choooose somethinnnng!" You even try to back it up with, "Be fair, I've had to think of what to cook for you for 99% of all the days that you exist, which means I've been doing this for...?" Your eyes begin shifting and scanning the room for something with buttons and a screen! "Dammit?" Your Blackberry's too far and your maths skills are abit rusty, so you turn to the youngest one and say, "For! For? You're in school! What's 365 times 16?" From nervousness, he screams out 632 and looks at you crazy when you order him to go study his 365-times table. As you inch closer to the lounge, you hear them asking each other who they should call first or whether they should just make a run for it!
Allllll because of a routine, that's boring the hell outa you! These kinds of outbursts are normal for when your daily routine begins to grate on your last nerve. What makes things worst is that the self-helps suggest switching things around to make life exciting as though you actually CAN drop your kids off at school in the evening. What they omit to cover is how exciting it will be when both the Department of Child Welfare and Education are knocking at your door and you have to Ramble Responsibly about how Dr. Crazy Cookoo's book said for you to switch things around, and that something that you read in it made you believe that switching THAT particular thing would make complete sense? Not cool, huh? So what do you do? Stick to the same ol' same ol' safe, routine! And now? LMGTM!
Ohhhh come now, you're so behind time, that's text language for, Let. Me. Get. To. Mine! Haaaaaahahaahahaha, and no, I'm not laughing at my own joke, my vanity has limits! That just reminded me of when my sister was trying to learn all these text abbreviations. Her, myself and a few cousins were emailing each other back and forth, where the "text savvy" ones were trying to teach the "stuck in the ice-age" ones what the text abbreviations meant? Firstly, let's lay some ground work here. My sister? Is brilliant at her job, but jokes? She should go to joke jail. She's a joke murderer! You know how once you have to pull a joke so far apart, it dies a slow and painful death? This is what we're dealing with! But out of that whole exchange, she latched onto ROTFLMAO! So ever since then? If you happen to get a reply from her on bbm? Be sure that ROTFLMAO will be in one of her responses. Even if she is tightlipped, and nowhere near a floor! You could be like, "Howzit! (That's South African slang for hello, how are you?) This storm ripped my entire roof off!" You may very well get a response that reads, "ROTFLMAO!"
"I broke my leg in three places today."
"ROTFLMAO!" At that point you just sigh and say...goodnight!
Sent via my BlackBerry from Vodacom - let your email find you!

To be or not to be…Candid!

So now they find out there is a hugggge hole in the laws concerning sexual offences?! So bad that the offender can be set free because for certain sexual offences, they forgot to set out penalty's for it!  Wowwww!  O_o!  My mum is like "CUT THEIR DAMMMM THINGS OFF!!!  #@+*#?"  Things?!!  That's typical of her, think she was trying to Ramble Responsibly!  She almost threw me out the house years ago when my daughter was little and asked me what a condom was.  That's why I'm more comfortable crawling into a hole with scorpions than I am having "that talk" with my kids.  I've tried my best to though, thanks to Geese, who always says, “You can’t have them learning stuff like that on the street!”  Dave too, he’s a very good friend of mine from the US who has a teenage daughter and he is open with her.  Me?  I’m gulping so much, it sounds like I’ve learnt a foreign language.  Seems American’s have no problem talking candidly about things like that.  South African’s?  Well, the one’s I know?  Uhhh, not so much!  That’s been a real challenge for us.  Geese sometimes has to shove me off the wall when I'm sitting cross-ankled like Humpty Dumpty before the great fall.  And when it get's to be too much for me, he becomes all the kings horses and all the kings men that puts me together again.  I'm one up on Humpty there!  Poor thing is still laying broken and in pieces! 

But, yeah, my mum was mad as shit that I didn't tell her it was a sweet!  And was it my daughter?  It was a little person, that much I know!  My memory of some things are worst than my late great aunt remembering which day to collect her pension.  We'd be sitting at my grans, and Aunty Becky would be like, "MargareT? When's pension day?"  Ma would yell back after a deep, impatient sigh, "Becky, I just told you, you collected your pension today!"  Thirty minutes later?  "MargareT?  When's pension day?"  Sadly, Aunty Becky died a month after my gran did.  They were so close, she had no reason to die because she wasn't sick, or sick enough to die.  We are all convinced that she died of a broken heart!  For me, that’s the saddest death of all, loving someone so much that you can’t even keep breathing without them.  Either that or?  She really needed to know when pension day was. 

"MargareT? When is pension day?"

 "Lord? Is there ducktape around here somewhere?"

"Now, now, Margaret, be nice!" After three hours and six pension day questions later, God then whispers, "Second draw on your left!"

And the Lesson in that is....
Mother's Day was a blur. I blame that dance. The short sentences are a reflection of my pounding headache. It's just been a lonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng day. All those nnn's don't do, describing this day, the justice that it deserves though! But onto a happier subject now….How was your Monday?
Lindsie told us this morning that someone had dedicated their bbm status to cursing out Monday. Poor Monday. Please? Don't ever name your child Monday. I've come across some crazy names, like when I worked in the bank, PHILOSOPHY! And that wasn't the name of the bank, or a College course. It was a client's first name! I knew instantly who it was in his Kindergarten class that couldn't spell his own name! But if you're absolutely out of options, like if you hear the bone-chilling cocking sound of the gun to your head? Monday's good, just make sure that you start saving for psychiatric treatment from the moment that child is able to sense or understand any kind of ill-feelings. All he/she is ever going to hear is "Aaaaargh, I hate Monday! Why does it have to be Monday! Monday suckkkks!!!!" And he/she's looking around like, "#%$@ did I do?"
To me, hating Monday that much, is just wasted hate. Wasted hate that you can direct towards the taxman. Or olives. Don't even know how people can eat olives, eeeewww! I'd much rather drink castor oil twice in one day than eat an olive. Wait. No, I wouldn't. Shewww! I had to correct that 'coz some people are so fixated on that shit of "I have it in black and white so now you have to do it." But more importantly, I have very bad memories of a Saturday, a spoon, a door, standing, castor oil and a piece of orange. There are times when a child sees clearly that either the mother or the father has to stand by, quietly and watch their kids suffer, for their own good. And while they are watching this lesson unfold, aside from their eyes watering from the vile taste on their tongue, and asking "Why was I born?". They innocently ponder on a more fitting question, "If prune juice has the same effect, why was that option just ignored!?" To this day, I'll never understand it. Maybe I was supposed to learn that the easy, tastier route is not always the best one to take? That might have been the lesson. I'm not asking though, just in case they try to teach it to me again!
Sent via my BlackBerry from Vodacom - let your email find you!

This is a test...I'm trying to see whether I can post straight from my Blackberry!
Sent via my BlackBerry from Vodacom - let your email find you!

Wasted Heels

Happy 50th wedding anniversary to my parents! You guys may not be perfect, and neither am I, but when I watched both of you get called up and congratulated and cheered on by the entire hall of people last night, I couldn't help but think, "That's my mum and dad!"  It was indeed a very proud moment. 

What I wasn't proud of though, was that dance that they took us to later.  After walking a 4km route through the bush and sometimes slanted land, all the while afraid that one of those horses might start galloping after us?  They were covered with blanket looking things, okay?  We didn't know why, so I figured it could have been mad cow disease or something.  This is South Africa, a man just had sex with a whole bunch of sheep and one of them?  He asked the owner for its hand in marriage!!!  I will go to that dance AGAIN if you think I'm making this up!  The sick bastard wanted to take one as his wife!  It died in horror!  Seriously, if you think about it from the sheep's point of view, how else was it supposed to react?  My sincere condolences go out to the sheep's family!  This is a true story, Google it!  So no, it wouldn't shock me if the horse DID have mad cow disease!  As I just demonstrated, there's just too much inter-mingling going on around here for me not to consider that a possibility! 

But after walking the route with my pensioner aunt who after a certain point could only grunt breathlessly when I asked her if she needed a hand?  I was then subjected to a dance where ninety percent of the people were unfamiliar and double my age.  In the week, my mum was like?  "Everybody's talking about this dance!"  All I ask myself now is "Yeah?  Did you hear what they were actually saying though?  That would have been some handy information right there!"  I knew my social life took a turn for the worst when I found myself slow-dancing with my other aunt to a song that reminded me of Geese, 'cause it had the word Daddy in the chorus. Oh! Oh! Oh! It was called Daddy's Home.  Came to me suddenly when I had flashbacks of my aunt throwing her head back and singing it while we were dancing.  But yeah, she's a female. By birth. I became a female through the same channels she did. We're not lesbians. I don't have a sliver of a problem with lesbians or gays, AT ALL, but I do have a problem with being one, without my knowledge!  Generally, I prefer to be the first to know those kinds of things about myself.  I wanna be the grapevine that people hear it through, you know!  But enough about that.  That's a story for another time.  I'm not here to rant.  I'm here to Ramble Responsibly about this dance. 

The music?  And see that?  I immediately started scratching my neck.  It was an instant allergic reaction to the memory of the agonizing sounds of the mixed bag of crap that the DJ was playing.  I love music.  Most types.  But as Ali so rightfully pointed out after we looked at each other dazed and confused at the start of another four minutes of affliction?  "You can't even identify the genre' of music this is?"  That song?  Even the lyrics sounded like chinese!  What's worse is that they had the nerve to announce that they will be holding another dance in July!  And be there and whoooo-hoooo!!!  I was like, BY. YOURSELF!  I will not be caught dead here again.  There however, would be a problem if I actually WAS caught dead anywhere, but still.  That's how strongly I felt about never wanting to repeat this particular mistake. If anyone reading this went to the dance and a timmmme!  I couldn't be happier for you but ay.  Hot, hot, hot?  Hope Joanna? I mean, really now, wtf?  What about evolution?!!  What about the fact that I wasted both a good outfit annnnd my best uncomfortable heels for this "talked about" event!  That's the real travesty here! I wore heels!