Seriously?!?

Sooooooh!!!! Renaldo sends me a message yesterday to ask me if I saw "the" article. At first, I thought we were on a top secret mission but then I figured that it was because the last thing I remember seeing on TV before I slept was The Mentalist! So? I was in investigator mode! But as any curious-minded person would? I then found out which article he was referring to? Just by asking him, "What article?" If only every investigation was that simple! And then I googled it. "I'm pregnant with my dad's baby and we are so in love."

A moment of silence...no, a day 'cause that's how long it took me to finish this blog entry...of silence is now desperately required by a person! Me!! Whose eyes were tainted by THAT! .....................................................................................................

You know what was the first thing I noticed? After I got over the nausea? It was that guilt forces one to try to find sommmmme sort of justification for the wrong that one is doing. In this case, it's two. Long-lost horny father plus desperately-seeking horny daughter equals two. "I was surprised to see how many brothers and sisters and blah blah blah are living together happily as man and wife." Reallllllllly?! Would that be on your planet? 'Cause I'm surprised to see that I don't know one brother and sister like that on mine! My chewing rate has increased dramatically. Yep, I'm chewing bubblegum, not hay! Horse shampoo is not that potent!

And I'm also surprised to see that I can actually keep it down. Excuse me. My mistake. Bubblegum is not meant to go down unless you specifically swallow it. Or get surprised-smacked at the back of the head! Or you're laying on your back and surprise-cough. 'Specially when you're told throughout your childhood about how a big bubble is gonna grow in your tummy if you swallow your grown-up given bubblegum? One tends to ensure the closure of the entrance to the throat passage while chewing! No matter the nausea level!

Now? Back to Hell's future residents. Ay! These two had better beg for forgiveness! I'm not being nasty. Yes! I'm being judgemental! But? My opinion has a voice. I'm not the one making sure that I have a foolproof, two-way path to the hot place?!?!? Lemme explain my two-way theory. Okay, here goes!

One: They are father and daughter, regardless, of the fact that they just met. He/she said that they're aren't doing anyyyyyyyyything incestuous. Awwwwwwwwwww! Sohhhh sweet to be so willingly ignorant. >_<! They aren't doing annnnnnnnything wrong. How precious is that? o_O!

Two: They're waiting to see if the baby has birth defects! Then what? They say that should it not? They will stay together and raise the baby. But what if it does? Introducinnnnnnnnnnnng........Backup plan to hell! Meanwhile?!!!!!!!! "We are victims of GSA!" BWAAAAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAA!!! GSA my size six and a half foot!

Huh? You? You don't know what GSA is? Sighhhhhh! I telya? Being a rambler is dirty job! Correction?!?!! I'm not the two being dirty here! Lemme try that again.....I telya? A ramblers job is never done! There! Thaaaaaats better! You really need to read more, else you would know what GSA is! Plus? Plus!

.................................Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn? Guilt is setting in! I may need to find justification! Quick! Confess! I must confess before I begin saying over the top bullshit in my defense! I'm not tryna create my own pathway to the baddddd place? I shall leave that to these two very confused people! I'm well aware that I shouldn't have kids with my father! Even if I don't see him for a week. But that's just me! And all the people I currently know.

But what do I need to confess, you ask? Crap?!? What DID I need to confess?!? Oh! Oh! Oh! Only that I too, just found out, what GSA was. It came up when I searched for the story. It's not like a normal, non-genetically sexually attracted person just knows what that is off the top of their heads! Plus it sounds like something to do with milk and percentages. So now my conscience is clear. I can move on. But I still knew before you did, which gives me the right to shake my head and make fun of your lack of knowledge.

Either way. No time for jokes. This is serious. It's a serious damn joke! That's what it is! Genetic Sexual Attraction? But fine. If they wanna be genetically sexually attracted? Right now. That's fine. After the...the? Wait? Who would now go and approach them and make them stop this? The cops? The welfare? Motherland security??? Well? Whomever it might be? When they get hold of their genetic sexual attraction asses? They won't be feeling so attractive then!

Then he's trying to make it out as though, "Hey, we never met before, so it's just like a meeting a woman in a bar!" That makes it not wrong?!! Pfffffffffffffffft!!! On top of everything? Now he's insulting women in bars too! Has he no shame?

Horny Daughter: "Dadddddd?!?!?!? Oh! Daddy! I finally found you!"
Horny Dad: "Yes y'did kid!" Wanna pretend like we just met in a bar, and that you weren't created by my very own, home grown, semen?"
Horny Daughter: "Why, whatever are you suggesting?"
Horny Dad: "I'm suggesting that you and I? Me! And you! Pretend that you're late mum and I didn't...you know? Do the hump-hump...and out came you...!
Horny Daughter: "Ooooooooooh Daddy! I love it when you talk dirty!"
Horny Dad: "I'm sorry kid...I ain't brush my teeth in three days."
Horny Daughter: "That's okay. That's alright...you're my Daddy! I forgive you. And besides? I feel so genetically sexually attracted to you right now. RowwwrrrrrR"
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Happy vs. Hip-less

You remember that "metabolism diet" I went on?   Hmmmmmmmmph!  Just saying that made me flare my nostrils!  I'll nevvvvvver go on it again.  Even if you paid me a million dollars!  LOL!  Lies!  For a million dollars?  I would!  And so would you!  You would swallow bowls of that spinach, lemme tell you that!  If you knew it would make you a millionaire.  Unfortunately, life is just not that effortless.  Rewards come from hard work, sweat and sometimes blood.  That’s why I couldn’t become a nurse.  I’d be fainting more than the fainters!  You wanna see patients honestly fight for their lives?  Employ me as a nurse!  They would will themselves off that stretcher, just to revive me.......to revive them!  So because I acknowledged that part of who I am?  The part that doesn’t like red liquid flowing from humans?  I very cleverly settled for dealing with injuries caused by staples and paper.    

I'm fatter than I was before I agonized myself for thirteen days with that liar of a diet!  In fact, no.  I should be fair.  I did lose weight.  But I didn’t keep it off for three years like they said I would.  “They” is a piece of paper, by the way.  A4.  An A4 page that I!!!!!!!!!!!  Gave life to!  I was suckered by an A4 piece of paper that was blank a few seconds before I printed it out, laden with the “Metabolism Diet”.  This is what you call unjustified punishment!  Needless to say?  I’ve learnt this harsh lesson.  Again.  I’m ashamed.  This was my second shot at that diet.  Completed it both times.  Believed it.  Lost weight.  Both times.  Once bitten, twice shy, you’d thi-innnk.  Nuuh-uh!  Me?  Twice bitten, thrice never-a-%$@^(^%-gain!  Hmmmmmmph!!  Think you’re doing something nice for a bland piece of A4 paper?  But this is the thanks you get.  Horrible! 

Short-term weight loss is just horrible.  On every possible level.  To give one such hope?  And then to just yank, such hope away like that?  Horrible!  Especially if one has gone out and purchased a whole new post diet closet full of thin clothing.  Which I didn’t!  I’m wise like that.  So wise that I got taken for a thirteen day ride by a piece of paper with dry black ink on it!  :_[  But for the person who did?  It’s horrible.  By now, it’s probably no secret that I'm horrified.  I’ve never used words beginning with horri...so many times before. 

Sighhhhhh...Why did chocolate have to exist?  And winegums?  And things that taste sweet and make me happy when I'm eating them?  I’m holding my hands in the form of a scale.  You know how you do when you’re explaining balance to someone?  In the one hand, I have happy.  In the other hand, I have thin.  Do I reallllllly, trullllllly, honestlllllly, need happiness?  I can't accept that in order for me to be at the weight?  No, no!  Sizzze!  Size, not weight!  That I desire!  I have to be miserable to be happy with my body!  Does that even make sense? 

A healthy eating plan?  Is not my friend!  Friends bring out the sun.  Healthy eating plan's bring out the lettuce.  Nona's my bff and she doesn't make me feel anything but warm!  Warmth.  Sun.  Nona.  Friend!  A HEP (Check it out.  Even when you abbreviate it, it sounds like some nasty STD or something!), is more like having it rain throughout your entire Miami vacation!  Look?  I will admit that I haven’t been adhering to a strict low kilojoule diet?  But, you have to understand.  The diet said to eat normal after your thirteen days have been successfully followed.  Normally?  I eat sweet things.  Normally?  I skip dinner.  Normally?  I don’t drink water!  So, the question then becomes?  Who’s normal are they talking about here!  That’s of vital importance, because by clearing the smoke from around this one little thing?  I might save thousands of people the horridache that I feel right now!  If anyone has the answer to that question?  I’d appreciate them coming forward.  I don’t fight, therefore I cannot guarantee your safety.  Why?  I already know of three angry people who have been on this diet.  So?  Incognito is fully recommended for safety purposes. 

Either way.  I'm at this function, drawing a palm tree.  Nope!  Not a function for artists like myself!  There'll never be a function.  For artists like myself!  Judging from the worst palm tree I have ever drawn.  I would be thrown out of functions for artist unlike myself.  I’m usually pretty good at palm trees.  From my school days, I would draw a palm tree on an island in the middle of the ocean.  I still do up to this day.  But this one?  Looks like a scaly earthworm with fan blades for a head.  We all know that earthworms don't have scales or a head.  That's how bad it is.  But in my defence?  It started out as a bright shooting star under a bubble S.  Suddenly I changed direction of my pen and viola!!!!!  "I can transform ya, I can transform ya...!"

Then we saw these hotel students.  Those who wanted to greet?  Greeted and then one of them said, "Morningzzzz!"  I narrowed my eyes and whispered to Wendy, 'cause I was confused at that point.  He looked Black, but that added suffix of zzzzzz's?  Puzzled me.  "Was that a Black or a Coloured child?"  Wendy said, "I dunno, looks like a Coloured too."  I had no choice but to explain both the reason for my eyes being smaller than they were a minute ago along with my sudden whisperous tone.  "Yeah he does look Black but I think he's Coloured.  Only Coloured's add zzzz to time of day greetings.  Morningzzzzzz!  Eveningzzzzzz!"   She's like, "You can pick a Coloured from a line-up just by the way they greet you!"

Salty News

Silence can, at times, be the loudest voice in the room, can't it? Yelling sort of like when you're having your fingernail's ripped off with a tool that should be used to fix things. Irony! At it's very best! Ohhhh well! Such is life. Who said it was predictable? Nobody I know! Mine certainly has been a timeline of surprises.

I used to be a little girl. Surprise, surprise!!! O_o! And if you think I'm about to dig up some little girl memories? Uh-uh, I'm not. They're too old. And some old things are borinnnnnng. Like watching Knight Rider on 25 August 2012! Last thing I want on a Saturday night is to make you feel as though you're watching an '80's series where cars have feelings, voices and exit buttons. There's enough confusion in this world. Besides? I've told you too much already. Heh-heh-heh! You might need to watch your fingernails when I'm holding a tool!

I feel something. Which is always good, else I'd be dead. And I'm not. So feeling things are always nice...to, uhh, feel! And I don't mean this John Cena action figure poking into the side of my hip. What I'm referring to is this. Do you ever feel different, almost? I don't mean, like you're a person but do you feel like a giraffe or a kangaroo or something. I mean, inside. OmG! Nooooooh! I don't mean, like inside your house or your cage. Nnnnnnnnnnn, okay nevermind. Lemme get off this feelings bus. It's going in the completely wrong direction right now. Kinda like me when I'm lost. Which I am. But I'm alive and feeling things which I was trying to tell you about before you started transforming from human to big tall animals. O_O. I-I rather just bring you the news.

I just read about a shooting at the Empire State Building in New York. I had to tie my hair up. After I choked on salt inhalation. It said that the guy came to shoot his ex boss because he fired him. That certainly would make him his ex boss! Nevertheless?!? He fired him a year ago! A. Year. Ago! A yearrrrr ago!!! I know you heard me the first time? But a girl is choking right now, alright?! So I wanted to say it until the words sounded just right! Try saying luck when you're choking. In front of your parents. When you're eleven years old and see how fast you feel the sting of a belt on your naked thighs! Oversalted home-made popcorn can be lethal when you're reading something shocking.

Now? I know you guys have got to be FEELING something at this point! Me?! I'm trying to regain control of my throat while I try to figure out? Was he busy for 365 annnd a quarter days? Did he work and then get fired again and it brought back fired memories? Did something just snap inside of him and he decided to go after everyone who'd ever wronged him? IF he HAD to do this? I'd rather it be that last scenario. Ofcourse? I'd much rather him NOT have done what he did, because I'm not one for violence, but the reality is that he DID and now we're left to try to make sense of his reasoning.

What this has shown me is that one shouldn't just go wild with the salt sprinkling! Shit! Wrong moral of the story! What I meant to say was...What the shooting incident has shown me is that every single one of us? Has limits. And this is something I'm experiencing at this very moment, myself! Nooooh! No! No! Don't be sending the South African army to my doorstep with loud speakers and negotiation skills. I'm not thinking about going to shoot up a bunch of people, but unlike the way that I deal with limit reaching? The result is sometimes, unfortunately, THIS! Hey? Some of us ALSO don't have self-control or a strong enough support system. And this, to me? Was a fatal example of that. I'm rather saddened by both this? And my sore throat.
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Pale Prince

I know how you feel Prince Harry! You thought you were doing the right thing by being naked IN YOUR OWN HOTEL ROOM. With a female. Now? Dude has to explain himself. Now? Dude is in deeeeeeeeeeep trouble now! Uuuuurgh! Another WTFish moment for my imaginary diary!

Wendy was like? "They say! GET A ROOM? HE WAS HORNY? SO! HE GOT A ROOM! What now? What now? Or or or?!? Must he have sex with his clothes on????"

Look?! I'd totally understand the horridness if ye ol' Royal Red-head was running wild naked down the Vegas strip with the stars and stripes painted on his ass cheeks, screaming, "God do not save the Queen!" Then? I'd have to agree! TheN! Even, I'd wanna know why he didn't have the decency to brush his hair before he began his tyrade! But dammmmmmmmm!??? All of this fuss? Really?

The explanation I want?!? Is whether that lens was set up innnn the room or someone trained a monkey to hang by the skin of its teeth on a fat twig to get a good shot of the royalty of his goodies! Our monkeys are grey with aqua blue goodies. Come to think of it? I can't even remember a branch in Vegas. So was someone suspended in air? Have they now come up with a camera lens that can curve in its vision from ground level into the hotel rooms of naked princes?

And now that the picture has been taken and the reaction is GASP!!!! O_O! The prince has flesh!!! And he's not afraid to expose it! To his girlfriend? Or! His friend who's a girl who also just so happened to also be in a fleshy mood! In a room! In. A. Room! Peopolllle! Not like he decided, "Ohhhhh well?!? Since I'm thread-bear! Let me hang all of my glory out of the window in a drunken fit of Las Vegal exposure." You know? I mean?

It wasn't even as if he was in Vegas...okay, he WAS in Vegas doing azzzz! But? Everybody in Vegas gets naked. Hell! Everybody in the worrrrrrld! Gets naked. In the privacy of their rented rooms! In the privacy of any room in their home. To bath or air themselves out. Or do other things that he was obviously doing or else there wouldn't be a naked woman behind him, but?!?. But?! And my point is this? He was doing azzzzz allllllll adult human beings do on planet earth, right or wrong, at a certain point in a day, a week. Or like some unfortunate married people? Twice every twelfth month but still?! Now he has some "explaining to do"! Pffffffft!

"Gran (in a Royal English accent), I have come to explain myself. (Sits down and throws his face into his open sweat-covered quivering palms). Shame! Is me! I-I was in my room. I even paid for the room! Gran. And? My clothing? Do you know how hot it is in Vegas?! Ask-Ask the Rambler! She knows! (I'm in the outskirts with my pompoms yelling, YEAH!! I KNOWWWW, GRAN! HOTTER THAN A DESERT!). (Gran turns to the voice in the outskirts, SHUTUP UNKNOWN PERSON. It IS a desert!) My clothes fell off and...out of nowhere? A naked woman appeared. Ohhhhhhhhhhh, she was a vision, gran! A-hem! Sniff! And she hid behind me and I was so very afraid. That's why. Gran. Sniff. I used the hands that I was generously given. And I covered my...my...(Mumbles under his breath). My doodlenuts. I cupped them so well. Gran. Look at this picture! (Gran demonstrates the "hand over eyes" bbm emoticon). I cupped them so that you could see that I? I was shocked at her appearance! I said to myself, "OMFGOSH!! Where did she come from?" Shocked by that! That I did what any man would do, specifically Adam in the garden. Hid in shame! Woahhhhhh?!? Gran?!? Do you think? DO YOU THINK that was Eve?"

Ay, if he wants to make it interesting? He could come up with any kind of scenario that would be as unbelievable as this BREAKINNNNNNG NEWS we saw in our newspaper yesterday.

BREAKINNNNNNG NEWS! "That rotten prince had the nerve to get naked!" No! Rotten is the priority that this story is given over the real naked issues we have going on IN THE WORLD.

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Happy Birthday Ma! RIP.

Ma would have been 90 years old today!  Happy Birthday, to one of the strongest women I will ever know! 

Saturday?  We would have had a party for her.  Everybody would have been assigned a cake and soda, to bring.  Or macaroni.  Or something that a person could eat and not use as a weapon should the need arise.  I’m saying that because sometimes?  The need did arise.  At one of Ma’s birthdays?  The need arose?  But no weapons were used?  Ma said, “When I woke up this morning?  I prayed that there were no fights on my birthday.”   You know things are a tadddddddd bit volatile when your gran doesn’t pray for blessings on her birthday.    

Nevertheless.  I know I was inching towards a point.  Oh!  Oh!  Oh!  Back to Mission “Just In Case.”  

The pensioners would have cooked a pot of food, each.  “Just in case” it was her last birthday with us.  Her last decade, of birthdays, if I recall correctly, were “just in case” parties.  The ring leaders would have met on a Wednesday after church and during.....hot bread.  Don’t ask.  And once they were nice and comfortable?  One can easily note when the comfort point has been reached.  Their legs are curled under them on the couch.  Actually?  You can tell our entire blood line of women!  Just from that position! 

Visitor #1:  “Pssssssssst?!  That one’s sitting on the couch.  Both her feet are touching the floor?  She can’t be a Samuels!  Musta?  Married into the family!” 

Visitor #2:  “Probably.  I’m looking around right now?  And look at them?  That’s a two-seater couch?  But see.  How?  Look at how they’re all facing one direction.  I heard someone say something about one cheek one cheek just now, but I couldn’t really make any sense of it?  How do they fit six of them on one couch?”

Visitor #1:  Just smile and wave.  You’re staring too hard.  Haven’t you heard?  They call Ma...Mafia.  She lies on the couch at parties at 3am with sunglasses on.  F is up with that?

Visitor #2:  Why don’t you ask one of them?

Visitor #1:  How did we get here?

Visitor #2:  huh?

Aunty Becky:  Does anybody know when’s pension?

Ma:  Becky?

Aunty Becky:  Okay, okay. 

The “just in case” plan would be discussed?  And thennnnn!  Executed.  Just like any plans we already had for Saturday.  I'd walk in from work?  Lovey would say, “Uhhh.  You must tell Wendy tomorrow that everyone must bring a cake, or mineral, or something, to Ma on Saturday.”  Continue making my tea in silence for a second and then jump right into it, “Oh, so there’s a party for Ma's birthday?  Again.  This year.”  (Don’t worry if I was booked into Entabeni Hospital to have my spinal cord adjusted, it’s quite alright :-\)  My spinal chord is fine.  I was just using that as an illustration of “too bad if you had plans.”  And why?!?!  Drum rollllllllll please.............drrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrdoodoofdoofDOOF.......O_o  (It sounds like that in my mind.)  The closing argument.  “Just in case.  You know?  It’s her last birthday.”

In hindsight though?  I wouldn’t trade it for the world.  The memories we have of being at Ma’s house are as fresh as the day that “someone” fell.  Twice!  >_<  Uhm, that musta hurt.  Thank goodness “someone’s” body was numb by then.  If “someone”?  Okay, wait, let’s give someone a name like those Dear Monica letters in magazines.  I gave her a name too.  Let’s call “someone”?  Hmmmmmmmmmmm?!?!  Floors!!!!!!  We’ll call him, Floors!  Coloured’s like nicknames like that!  I know of someone nicknamed Jurassic Park!  For REALLLLL.  For real!

HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!  Ooooh man!  I’m thinking about my cousin, Pastor Shaun Johns?  I could listen to him for hours and not yawn once!  He was preaching at Ma’s funeral?  And he started naming all the nicknames in our family?  Mingloo, Tupper, Cootchie, Lovey, Di, Mulloo, Gela, Tonties, Pudding, Toosie, Tutty, Mutyloi, Tittyloi......he said hahahahahahahhahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!  He said, if you say those together, someone could mistake you for talking in tongues.  HAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!! 

Did you have a nickname?  Mine was, Mother, and?  Face.  There are one or two people that still call me, Mother.  Face was...Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnn.  ^%&^#^%@#)(&*&^#^%$#*(_%#@#&(^*&^%  (I am not cursing...I am merely expressing myself in symbols!)  Why did I bring up nicknames, of all things?  Now, I’m a few sentences short of embarrassing myself in France and some other countries I haven’t been to!  Errrrrrrrrrrr, OKAY!  I’ve said it.  I shall move forward.  I shall take one for the...?!?!  The?!  Crap!?!  Alright?!?  You know the A-Team?  BA and them?  Mmmmmm.  Yeahhhhhhhh! 

I was young.  And I had a face.  I love how I constantly use that excuse for when I’m about to admit or have already admitted something that I should have just, kept inside.  Deeeeeeeep inside.  Folded away in the subterranean ruins of my memory.  I seriously hope that you’re not sitting there, staring at me all hopeful?  Thinking that I’m gonna say more that the A-Team?  SMH.  Literally.

In remembrance of our Ma...I’d written this on behalf of all of us back in 2010.

Our Ma

Ma, how exactly do we say good-bye

But? Who says that we have to?

If we just look at each other, a hand, or an eye?

So many little things, in each other, will remind us of you

All of the moments, of which you were the core

When we all ran to gather around you, tripping over each other

It’s just so hard to accept that, we can’t do that anymore

We learnt through you, the true meaning of being a Mother

Mother’s Day will never feel the same, not even Christmas

 To feel what you inspired? Where do we go now?

That closeness, that family feeling…that’s what we’re gonna miss

How do we move on from here…Ma?  Tell us how?

We feel this, sudden, abyss, a void, just a gaping hole

What emptiness…It? It just doesn’t seem real?

You were supposed to live forever, you weren’t supposed to go

We’re trying to put on brave faces, but how are we supposed to feel?

Just? Don’t stop looking down on us, please Ma..just?

Be an Angel, to us, we’re your children

Please know…that…You will never leave our hearts….this?

This is just…good-bye, for now…until we’re together again

Weekend?!!! What Weekend?

The weekend swung me from one point to another like a wet cat!  HahaaaaaHahahahhaha!  A-hemmmM!  -_-  Sorry!  I'm just picturing it.  It’s rather hilarious, to me.  Seeing the weekend swinging a wet cat!  Poor cat, ay!  All I hear is “RowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwrrrrrrrR!”  In a high-speed, high-pitched, feline voice!  As it’s getting swung by its tail!  From home to dance, to the mall, to another mall, back to the first mall, to a busy grocery store, to home, to the soccer grounds, back home, to my parents, to youth, back to my parents, home, to my sister in law and then finally back home!  SHEWWWWWWW!  Ears perched and cock-eyed as it flies through the air, wet and looking like, "Weekend?  WtF with all the swinging?!?!"  Just so that I’m not in any trouble with the animal rights people?  I mean no harm.  No cats have been harmed during the imagination of the above-mentioned scenario!  Just like me?  The cat is safe at work right now.

You know?  I completely understand why men would rather climb Mount Everest in the melting snow with heels on, than go clothes shopping with women!  It hurts your feet.  I think that's from walking.  I could be wrong.  But it has to have alot to do with, “I’ll come back.”  To the store where I saw this thing I liked. 

#8 point 6 of the shopping rule book states, “If you see that thing you really liked in the forty seventh store you walked into?  Do not, under any circumstances, buy it immediately.  Walk in and out of another forty seven stores?  And then?  When you begin to feel that you’re kinda balancing on your middle toe from feet throbbery?  Go back for that thing you really liked!”  Why do we torment ourselves that way?  Thing is this.  We’re spiting nobody but ourselves by doing that.  Unless we’re shopping with someone we really don’t like.  That’s the only time it becomes effective.  Yet, somewhat self-inflicting.  Because?  I mean.  You are shopping with yourself aside from that person you don’t like.  Therapution is meant to be relaxing?  Is it not?  :-\  I-I really don’t care.  M-m.  You should know me by now.  They’re self-explanatory.  Just close the dictionary.   Learn the new words and use them in future!

Sometimes, I believe that we give ourselves a bad name and then when we succeed in that?  We complain bitterly about the fact that our partners’ won’t spend quality time with us.  By that I mean?  We complain bitterly about the fact that our partners’ won’t agonise themselves with us.  And that they’re instead, rushing to the mountain, in our heels.  “They’ll be coming round the mountain in our heels....”  Or their own.  I looked outa the window to avoid the awkward stares you’re giving me.  Don’t pretend like it doesn’t happen.  I have a closet full of sneakers.  Some are men’s sneakers.  So what?!  If he likes heels every now and again.  If you accept that side of him?  Who’s judging?  Just make it clear that he is not to be seen in public with you that way and everything will be alright.  Plus, some people are freaky that way.  You might be one of them.  And still?  Who’s judging?   

A blessing in a boy child

An August nineteenth gem

An attachment of my soul

A framed tattoo in my heart

A smile that lifts spirits

A gentle giant of compassion

A mountain of courage

A magnet to greatness

A beautiful dreamer

An inspiration to me

A blessing in a boy child

That's my introduction

Of untainted admiration

I've named him Damon

And he's my eldest son

I adore him without limit

Unconditional and infinite

Happy Birthday, my sugar

Mummy

I wrote that little poem for Damon for his twelfth birthday, yesterday.  That’s precisely how I see him.  He read it and smiled sohhhhhhhh hard.  As though I handed him a bag of gold.  If you’ve never felt like the end of a rainbow before?  Write your child a poem telling them how much they mean to you, and you will.  

Calculating Mind

Thank you guys. :-) Just felt as though I needed to show my gratitude for you taking the time to read my ramblings. It may not seem like a huggggge deal? But it is.

When someone listens to what you say? Reads what you've written? Remembers your name, even? For any of these three things to even happen? You've had to have made some sort of impression on them. That's a huge deal. At least it should be. Too often, I find that we linger on feeling a certain way about what's gone or going wrong in our lives. Myself included. I'll be the first to admit it. (Stand up, nod and smile). Hi, I'm Stacey, and I'm a lingerer. But we forget that in the midst of all the mishaps? There's always, still, something to celebrate. My hair's celebrating right now too 'cause I'm about to wash it. So?! In a few minutes? I'm not the only one having a gracious moment!

For some reason? Unbeknown to you! I feel as though I haven't slept for dayyyys. I'm not TGIF-ing either, because I have early morning errands alllllllll weekend. I say alllllllll? As if the weekend consists of nineteen point three days. It should! :-) But it doesn't. :-( So short that you can describe it in hours.

"Sooooooooh, Bob? What have you been up to for the last forty eight, hours?" Bob is still smiling and doesn't have that usual look of constipation on his face! Effortlessly, comprehending both the words annnnd the numbers! And why? Because the insufficient total weekend hours are easily incorporable into questions about what you've been doing? By someone to whom it shouldn't matter! But?!?! Let's clasp our hands behind our backs and walk in gigantic, almost? Mocking, steps to the flipside...shall we?

"So? What have you..." Twenty- four times?.....Hmmmmmm...Ho-hold on jussssssssss onnnnne minute! Just? Sw-switching applications, quickly....times five. O_o! Whaaat!? I'm NOT! Five times four. Twenty. You're so ready to jump to conclusions. Smh! Zero carry two. Under no circumstances am I going to consult my...phone calculator! Nnnnnnnnnnnn! Where was I? Carry two. TO WHERE?!! Sighhhhhhh! Starting again. Twenty-four times...seriously, I'm switching applications for a compleeeeetely different reason! Two fives? Ten. Plus...For real. Two. Twelve and zero! ".....been up to for the last one hundred and twenty hours?" And there you go! Immediate loss of flow! Annnnnnnnnnd look what you've done now! He's constipated. Only thing switching at that point? Is Bob's ass as he power walks to get as far away from you as he possibly can!

You'd never say I was being sweet and soppy and thank you-ish a second ago, would you? Well? Don't blame me for "mixed feelings" being something that, actually exists. I don't make the emotion rules. I just feel them? And then come here to tell you all about it!

Night, night, world! Me?! Wash hair. You?! Ramble Responsibly!
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About Last Night

That movie starring Demi Moore and Rob Lowe inspired me to start wearing jeans and sneakers.  I know you’re saying, “Wow!  For the longest time, I’ve felt as though something was missing.  Knowing THAT just completes my life!”  Don’t be smart, I’m just sharing.

I had the air punched right outa me last night.  Lindsie too!  By fistless things!  Side slides, kicks, isolations annnnnnnd Jarryd's favourite?!?  Push-ups!  You know, I've been trying to tell him, ever since he taught our krump class?  Look?!!  Teacher?  I’m all for fitness and everything.  You’d never say just looking at me, I know, but I try to be as physically correct as possible.  I don’t have to believe in it.  But we’re in an age where gym, (choke)?  Is the innn thing!  And believe it or not?  I was a bi-weekly, leotard and leg-warmer wearer back in the day for Keep Fit.  Keep Fit was aerobic classes for mostly old people.  My mum made me join.  Sniff!  But we didn’t have equipment and all of that.  We had a ghetto blaster.  A cassette.  And an instructor who was showing us what Jane Fonda was telling us to do.  Oh!  And male youngsters from the area, who would climb up and peep at us from the windows.  I even worked at a gym.  Teaching new members this routine.  I only know it as this routine.  I learnt how to do it.  Which worked great!  Far as me looking as though I knew what I was doing and why.  But all these gym terms?  And triceps, biceps, shhhhmiceps talk? 

If and when you meet me at the mall?  And you mention that you’ve just been to gym?  And I ask you how the cardiovascular work-out went?  I’ve memorized key words and I’m just being polite.  I really wouldn’t know how to cardiovascularize myself in a gym if my life depended on it.  If on another occasion, you see me running laps around the interior of gym?  Or trying to dive from the speeding treadmill into the pool?  I’ve taken the time to find out that it had something to do with your chest vibrating at how fast your heart is beating.  But only because my life depended on it.  Do me a favour though.  Stop me.  Stop me and show me how to use the gym equipment instead of making myself a clown in public.  I can’t promise you that I’ll speak to you at that point because I will be very angry.  I am as anti-gym as I am, the weekends ending.  

So, I tried to tell Jarryd, lasssssssst year already.  Not in so many words but.  First?!  I used wounded expressions and was often tempted to ask him, “What would Jesus do?”  If he saw someone that looked like me right now?  He didn’t seem to notice my facial distortion.  So being the student that I am?  I got down on my hands and knees...and prayed.  Well?!  I wanted to pray.  And I said something like, “Ay” that could easily be translated into, “This body of mine?  Was not designed for push-ups.”  But when he ignored that too and still signalled for me to stay down on the floor and give him thirty two?  My mind whined.  And judging from last night...it still is!  I looked around thinking Lindsie might have passed out?  Normally?  When I hear voices!  That’s my reaction.  Since I hadn’t been to dance for months now?  I forgot what my mind’s grumbling voice sounds like when it says, “Look at this ass in comparison to these arms?  How do you think an ant feels lifting a rock for four sets of eight?”

For some reason, and really speaking?  No.  That’s a lie.  It’s not for sommmmmme reason.  I know the reason.  But doing that particular exercise seems, to some extent, on a level easily comparable to having my toes set alight!  It's alllll an assumption, though.  An assumption of similarity to the smouldering sensation that I bravely endure?  While gasping and heaving breath that’s lodged somewhere in my body!  Grappling and clutching onto the shiny tiles beneath my sweaty palms!  (Impossible to grab onto tiles, lemme tell you!)  Silver flecks begin to swim not far from my eyeballs.  All, as I finally lift my entire body weight using my future six-pack and tremulous, strengthless arms!  Unable to speak?  But it’s evident by the abrupt dilation of my pupils that I’m counting!  Wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwunnnnnnn...aaaaaaaaargh!  And then battle forward as I move onto the second count! 

Do you know that some of our fellow human beings do push-ups, voluntarily?  >_<  Why, anybody, with feelings, would?  I do not know, but?!  "Each to his own."  I say.  “If it floats ya boat.”  I also say.  “If pain is your game.”  I haven’t yet said that one but I might, sometime in the future.  Exercise?  That's one thing you won't ever hear me talk about in any kind of intimate way!  It is my firm belief that alllll women should have been born with metabolisms that work.  Thyroid glands.  That work.  And fat cells?  That don’t work!

I did, however, drift into slumber with the preconceived notion that my body would feel as though I tripped over an orange brick and landed on someone who didn’t exactly appreciate it?  But I have very, verry, verrry few aches today.  O_O!!!  That could mean one of two things.  Either?!  I am still fit but just rusty, as Geese so preciously put it?  Orrrrr?!?  I gave myself the mistaken impression about how hard I worked in class last night.

All that matters to me right now, though?  Is that I'm back at dance!  And I lovvvvvved it!

Emotional Vegetables

I'm looking for the first onion grower! That farmer has some answering to do! Aren't there enough things in this world that causes a person's floodgates to open?! I'm happily preparing to cook, whistle whistle whistle! With my music in my ears, right? I had no plans of crying. Being the organiser that I am? It upsets me when I cry by surprise. I-I won't ask myself why I'm surprised when I onion-cry. 'Cause who hasn't watched the Bold and the Beautiful?! I have always noticed, backkkkk then, when I tainted my brain with soap. Soaps! That when Brooke cried? Started crying in ONE eye only! There's only one explanation for that! Her other tear duct was blocked...initially! You'd imagine that will all of that money, she'd be able to buy a straight pin and just sort herself out?! Like. Buy the pin. Prick! Cry like the rest of the free world? Nope! She was more comfortable with ITDBD-Initial Tear Duct Blockage Disorder!

But?!? It made me think?! Don't run! OmG! Sprinting?!? Awwwwwwww come-onnnnn! Commmmmmme back????!!! I'm not that baddd?!? Good grief! And just for the record! If you're keeping one. Where in the world did that saying originate from, anyyyway?!? What kind of grief? Is good! Ant killing, maybe? Lemme try find out real quick! Uhhhh. One second. I need onions for this! I'm going to attempt to grieve, good! Join in? Let's unite like bills on payday! We can do like an average. Six of us hold an onion to our eyes. We can assess our individual results of the goodness of our grief! Yes! And?! Okay! You know what? This situation calls for a ratio! Not an average! Mr. Uhhm? Who was my maths teacher? Mrs? I can see her face. DammmMmmmmm! I'm old!

Nevermind. It'll come to me soon. Soon as I get to my mum tomorrow and look through my school reports! Back to what I was saying...Do you notice the imbalance around here? By here, I mean, earth! Not a farmer on EARTH considered growing a vegetable that makes you burst out into raucous laughter?!? That's not funny! Don't laugh, we're supposed to be grieving. Ay! I'm just saying. Why only things with the negative effects? Why?! The ozone layer is depleting by the second! Because of negative onions peels...And other...things...I'm not mentioning...because they are not the subject of today's blog.

With all of the technology available these days? Nobody can come up with a happy vegetable, huh? Look? Lemme tell you something! In the midst of creating heaven and earth, the Lord Jesus Christ found the time to make a bone in our body that's funny? But man!? I mean, mannnnnnn! NASA can't take samples of our funny bone, inject it into broccolli seeds? Shine a red, solar light on the soil in which they plant it? And invent a happolli!?? SMDH!

Imagine the positive change to mankind that would make? Parent's would be more delighted. Children would be less inclined to judge vegetables. Harshly. (Because each of us know that it's alllll brocolli's fault that they hate veggies!) But rather embrace it's influential mood enhancing behaviour. Must I think of everything? You say, "Yes! Yes! Think of everything!" But when I even mention the "th" word, you begin bolting like I'm that gun they use to start races with.

Uhm! Now Randyl would like some tea? When just yesterday, she told me she wouldn't tip me if I were her waitress.
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Trail of Days...

Friday.....
Welllllll? So much for sleeping in on my leave day! A ginorrrrrrrmous! Sarcastic! THANK YOU! To all of those who made that impossible! Be sure that I will be forgetting to remember your next birthday. Guilt-free. Aaaargh?!? Now see? I'm having a moment of insecta-whatyoumacallit! I don't know if I can really HEAR a mosquito or whether my throbbing headache is causing a pretend mosquito to buzz. To add insult to injury? I'm wearing a formal shirt and pumps. On my day off! Ooooooooh-hoooooo! Criminal! If you know me, you'd know that formal wear?
I'd call the fashion police for myself, if I was caught over-wearing formal clothing! Formal clothing, to me? Is like rubbing menthol in your eyes to soothe them. Try it? Go on. Menthol stimulates tears. It's a proven fact. I didn't prove that, and neither did I research that. The headache-inspired mosquito that may or may not be flying in close proximity to my ears, told me. But if you're not one to just take a persons word for it? If you honestly wanna know how I feel in formal clothing? Stimulate your tears and then be sure to come back and tell me how comfortable an experience that was. But while you're screaming as if you fell twelve thousand feet and got your eyelid caught on a rusty nail? Mumble under your breath, don't blink. That might hurt! "DammmmM! I realllllllly shouldn't have done that." But thereafter? Once you've gotten the fact that you shoulda known better than to rub menthol in your eyes, outa the way? Realize that, THAT is how I feel in formal clothing!
I've trained my formal gear to hide in my closet. Haaaaahaahahahha, I swear, I did! They side step when I'm looking for something to wear. Okay? Alright! Admittedly, some would view it as me simply swiping the hangers to the side when I'm searching for the perfect, casual get-up, "To the left, to the left. E'rythin' formal, getting swiped to the left..in the closet...that's my stuff...."
but if you don't mind? Lemme have this one, please? I'd feel a lot better believing that at least I have control of my clothing.
I'm making less and less sense and its because I'm nervous. I'm hoping that the phantom mosquito doesn't bite me. I don't like to itch, and I've made it a point not to roll around in grass because of that. But when you've been bitten by a figment of your headache? I'm guessing. And it's merely a guess? I'm guessing that scratching a mosquito-bite lump that's not there is gonna send me straight into a state of confusion. Do you ever feel as though you need to scratch your arm, but you can never get to the part that's itchy? Like it keeps moving from spot to spot when you finally think you've gotten it?! That's called musical itch.
I'm home now.
Be careful. Please? If it looks like an orange? It might just be that you're fruit-blind! Or trying to peel a paw-paw! I've found out the hard way, toooooo many times that granny smith apples are green for a reason. No matter how much you wanna see the starkling in them? It aint there and never will be. You can tell that I'm trying to eat healthy, can't you? On Monday, I shall begin. I just haven't yet decided, which Monday. I've been trying to become one with my body....hummmmmmmmmmmmm! It's still very much FORCING me to feed it junk. I offer no resistance since I'm not trying to encourage defiance. If I fight it? I'd be defeating the oneness purpose, so?
Since I'm talking about days? I'm taken back to one in particular. A moment in time when I looked ahead of me and the figure and form that stood before me? All that my heart was filled with? Was admiration and overflowing pride. Where the words that clung to the tip of my tongue? Was, "Wow...I'm so extremely proud of you." I don't know what that feels like anymore.
Many don't realize that trust is a very powerful thing. A very powerful thing to break. Much like anything that was once whole? It's never again the same once a piece of it has been chipped away. The effects that it has on the person holding that bucket of wasted pride and belief? The only words left hanging from their quivering lips become, "Why the F would you do that to me when all I ever did was believe in you?" Those effects are so far-reaching that it shreds pieces of their soul that in all honesty might never again knit back together. Have you ever felt SO let down in some way that you felt a piece of your soul...die?
Saturday...
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh-tishoo! This is why I don't drink liquor. Not only does it cause my sinus to say, "Look woman!? I don't wanna be here just as much as you don't want me here?! But I don't have a problem torturing you long enough so that you never put your mouth to a glass of intoxicating, coloured liquid again." That's what you call a friend! When your allergies become your guidance? You know that you're in good hands!
But it also prevents situations where?!? You sit on a chair that almost has your ass touching the floor and you don't even realize it. Then you try to get up and simply frown at the fact that the difficulty factor has trebled. You begin to curse yourself out, barely opening your mouth but anyone watching...that would be me...anyone watching can clearly see how mad you are with yourself. Meanwhile, you're looking around, as fast as you possibly can...well?! Fast like in slow, long, dragging blinks! Hoping nobody caught a glimpse of you having no choice but to give in to the gravitational pull caused by both alcohol and a chair that you're breaking minute by minute.
Then you try to defend the reason that your red nail polish has no boundaries. With the fact that you were not in your right mind when you painted them? You're expecting someone not to ask themselves how much of a right mind you're in, even as you sit there! Then you accuse the one closest to you of drinking what was in the glass in your hand before you took that last gulp. Then you ask everyone in a threatening fashion, "Do your'll want me to go home and watch Crime and Investigation and poison someone?" As if poisoning your own liver is not enough self-inflicted violence for one day?!?
Oh crap! Part of the metal leg is now completely off the chair. Annnnnnnnd! You finally make it up! Can't say the same for the that poor chair, unfortunately! But you make it up and start walking. For a few chips and a little convo on your way to the dip, which you will no doubt forget you had in 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9.............1 minute to go before you repeat yourself!
Somebody? Save me. Nicky Manaj? Anybody? Even if you know the words to her song? I am being rough handled by loud voices and several little pieces of chewed chips. My level of discomfort is rising, much like her need for the ladies room. However? It appears that she hardly remembered her initial reason for trying to get off the chair. Unless? No! No! Okay? You know what? Lemme not think the worst. I'm going through plenty already.
I-I'm now leaving in search of light. And a calmer, more natural, environment. Under the absolute, false pretence that I shall return. I say absolute because not an inch of me has any plans of keeping even one word of the sentence that the pressure has caused me to spew..."I'm coming back. I am! For realllllll!" My eardrums won't survive me telling the truth.
Sunday....
ROTFLMAO (Lynn) just asked me, "Is it an egg lifter? Why is it called an egg lifter?"
I said, WITH actions, "'Cause it lifts eggs." Annnnnnnnd that was that for THAT!
Hahhahahhahahaahhahaha! She burst out laughing. Me? I tried to keep a straight a face as possible. And failed. Now I KNOW, this person next to me? Is my sister!
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Childish Weather

Not to worry....^_^! I'm still here. Yesterday was a bit of a hectic day! What with that heavy rain and then sun coming out. Too much elemental confusion to concentrate on anything else. I mean, you leave home? Raining in torrents! Dressed with so many layers of clothes that your mobility is scarred for life? That's why I didn't blog. My mobility was scared. I mean, scarred! Come lunch time? Out comes the sun and dries up all the rain...and the incy-wincy spi...

A-hem!

Sun comes out and you're body temperature begins to spike! Nevermind that you're tight in a long sleeve t-shirt, hoody sweatsuit, winter coat, scarf and cap that you knitted last year! Who can blog at a time like that? When you're being held hostage by velvet, wool and cotton? And that coat material?

I'm sitting here now. Have you ever had a fever? On your face, only? That's what this feels like? Like I'm a fire breathing dragon! Just with the heat of the fire, though! You know what I mean? You ever felt like a dragon? You ever been...called a dragon? When your breath? Like when you breath outa your nose? Your breath is scorching hot. I could fry an egg on my...wait? I didn't think that one through properly. Even my eyeballs just feel...hot. Crap?!? I'm not in Vegas, am I? Ohhhhh no. I'm home. I know because I'm alone. At home. On Women's Day.

Sounds like I'm feeling sorry for myself. But no. I'm just hot. You know when you're in front of the class, reciting an oral and alllllll eyes are on you? Not like that. It's a different kind of heat. Around the facial area and in your carbon dioxide, that's all. This feeling usually causes me to turn to my left and start a conversation, and then realize? Oh!? Oh! Therrrrrrre's nobody there! Just me and my feverish face! Oh! Annnnd JLO in the Backup Plan. Nobody here to even irritate with hot breath. Uuuuuurgh! She's allll the way in the TV. Plus she's got enough to deal with 'cause she's pregnant and confused. And now she's in labour in the car, OUCHHH!

Now see? SEE???!!! That stroller can give a child "middle child syndrome"! One faces the person pushing it? It's a double stroller. But one child faces the pusher and the other baby faces it's twin, who CAN see the pusher! If I was a twin? I'd also wanna see my pusher. Instead of a psychiatrist later on down the line to work out why I was the one not being seen in the stroller when my mum pushed me down Madison Avenue.

Luckily, I didn't have "middle child syndrome"! I am the baby in our siblingdom of four. At thirty-nine? I'm not much of a baby but that's my title and I'm sticking to it! Hehehehe...I am the REASON why one orrrr two, of my siblings feel middle childish. Bwaaaahahaha! Although, right now? Right this minute? I feel somewhat like a middle child...or nobody's child. That's bad because I have face fever too. A fever-faced lonely child! Geese found that very funny just now. He said, "HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA FACE FEVER?" I thoroughly enjoy it when he laughs in capital letters! And anybody else too, for that matter! For some reason? I find it so much more inspiring than, "hahahahahaha."

I found some friends to keep me company now. We're just chilling in the kitchen. I'm on the chair uncrossing my legs. I just remembered varicose veins and the fact that I don't want them. Unfortunately, my new buddy's are sausages and I'm about to fry them 'til they turn another colour. Hmmmmmmmm? Don't think that union's gonna last very long.
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Silence is Golden

Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!  It is fureeeeeeeeezing in Durban!  And that?  Is the weather report for the day...brought to you by the Rambler’s blue-nailed fingertips!

Have you ever, in anger, called someone a twit?  Do you know that you’re actually saying?  “BLAH BLAH BLAH, you pregnant goldfish!”  I just saw some interesting facts on my computer.  I dunno how they got there, but it says a pregnant goldfish is called a twit.  My entire life?  From the point that I can remember, is flashing before my very eyes right now.  Trying to recall if I’ve ever called someone that and who the pregnant goldfish was.  I’m gonna go out on a limb here and willlllldy guess that it was that thief that stole polony when I was very young and casually working at OK Bazaars.  But while we’re on the subject of limbs?

Seems my mum and Aunty Di are having a timmmmmme over in Canada!  Just received pics of them striking poses in a photo booth at some soul festival?!  Di was tryna be all gangsta, like a K1 Truck and Lovey was like...”Vogue...vogue...let your body move...”  Lemme tell you something, for nothing.  The “meet and assist” airline staff would feel relatively deceived right about now.  I’m certain of that.  I hope that none of them were at the carnival.   “Are these the same two that we were just pushing in wheelchairs to Gate D7 less than a week ago?”   BWAAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!   That’s how hard I laughed when Wendy bbm’d me on Friday to tell me they’re running wild in Johannesburg airport in wheelchairs!  Thank goodness a Mafikizolo track didn’t start playing!  They woulda immediately given themselves away from how fast they giant-stepped outa the wheelchairs to tear it up! 

You know what?  Hold on a second.  This music is giving me separation anxiety.  O_o! 

The pleasant part of my singing voice appears to have detached itself from my epiglottis.  You see now?  I’m speaking, on a personal level.  My epiglottis is special.  It doesn’t just hang there like an ugly bat all day.  If that’s the only duty you have assigned to yours?  Ay, cool!  But mine kept the pleasant part of my singing voice, safe.  And now?  The pregnant goldfish has lost it. 

I remember a time when my kids would enjoy my singing.  Okay, I may be overstating that a bit, because they were never like...sing Ma, sing Ma!  But even in saying nothing?  You say something?  Right?  But this morning, Randyl sends me a bbm after I just woke her.  Obviously tired.  Traumatized?  Could be both, I dunno.  I’m still trying to get pass the pain. 

The bbm read, “Ma.  Please can you stop singing so loud in the morning, it wakes me up.”   Now, I can’t speak for you?  But to me?  I’m a sensitive soul.  I think.  But to me?  That’s saying something!  You can’t go from not saying anything to saying don’t do what you were saying nothing about all of this time and expect the recipient of the bbm not to feel somewhat slighted?  It’s different to the other time when she said something about, “Don’t play that song, don’t sing that song...you’re killing.  That song!”  Adele...Don’t You Remember.  I was depressed.  Adele knew how I felt, okay!  Sometimes?  To feel better?  You need to just let it all out.  You need to just come out with it and express other people. 

I-I dunno?  Maybe I’m just being thin-skinned or something.  She could have just been saying, “Ma?  Please just let me have my last few minutes of sleep...in silence.”  But the latter-mentioned...hehehehe...the latter-mentioned comment was specific.  The initial...hehehehe...I sound reallllly bright.  The initial-mentioned comment was too broad not to have a small piece of me feel as though somewhere in there, she was saying...”Rather sing when I’m not in the house”  

Sniff.   But?!  Luckily for me?  I’ve been in places where I had to sing...inside.  I would move my mouth to give myself the illusion that I’m on stage, singing to millions of screaming, adoring fans?  But I wouldn’t allow any sound to come out of it.  I think?  Tomorrow?  Just to make sure.  I’m gonna wait for her to wake, then sing.  Dependent on her reaction?  I’ll know whether, moving forward?  I should just do the whole mime-sing thing.    

Independent Women...Need Men

Happy Women’s Day Week to all of us that possess wombs!  In the spirit of this?  Maybe we can make an extra effort this week to find my aunt’s uterus.  Please?  It's ridiculously lost.  Still. 

And just so that we put to rest the age-old debate about who the superior gender is?   Let’s do a quick tally.  Is there a Men's Day?  Nope!   With a public holiday to match?  Nope!  ‘Nuf said!  Awwwwwwww, don’ look so sad....I’m sorry.  Didn't mean to rub your nose in it!  I did, but I didn’t mean for you to catch me pulling tongues at you!  Because we?  Have a public holiday and you don’t, naaaa-na-na-na-naaaa!  Poor puppies though, that pee indoors!  They say you must rub their noses in their pee and they'll never do it again!  Ofcourse they won’t!  Much like you and I?  Inhaling their own pee should never be on their list of things to repeat!  It's at that stage in their lives that they fully comprehend what human's mean when they’re pretending to be asleep at their feet, meanwhile they’re just closing their eyes and gathering information on our species! 

“It's a dog’s life!"  

My kids had that movie “Cat’s and Dog’s”, so I’m well-schooled far as undercover agent pets.  I'm sure in their little puppy agent minds, they're grumbling about, "Wonder how you'd like it if my mum took your toddler who just pee'd on the floor, and rubbed her nose in it!  I don't know what potty training is but you keep using it as an excuse for when she does the same thing I just did...yet you feel it’s somehow right to make me inhale my own pee?  For me?  It's just, he pee'd on the floor, damn dog?!  Henry?!?!?!?!  Dunno what the hell you brought this dog home for!  How do you know that I'm not being potty trained?  My mum doesn’t live here, I know, but I’m a dog and I have dog ears with dog hearing and she may be potty training me from far.....Just?  Quick to be rubbing my nose in my pee...wait ‘til I see you’re slipper unattended!"

Only 'cause I can sense the testosteronial glares I'm getting?   We'll just say, favoured then, not superior!  Tes-toster-onial...derived from the English words, testicles and onial.   You can clearly see now how that word came about, can't you?  Males are the onial ones with testicles.  With the two for one deal?  You also found out what onial means.  Heeeee-heeeee-heeeee!  Just for cheek sake?  I’ve right-clicked my mouse on it?  And added it to my computer’s dictionary.  ‘Cause.  I.  Can!   I’m basking in the sense of freedom that doing that just gave me. 

English words are normally derived from Latin words, but those two, I would say...because I am free to say and right click and add to dictionaries as I please?  Are the kids of Latin word offspring.  Latin word, grandchildren.  They're English with Latin genes.  That means they're Coloured words.  Just like me.  That's how I know.  Takes a Coloured to know a Coloured....W-word.  

Just as easy?  You can tell where the word “wombs” is derived from.  One womb, many wombs.  Who can guess?  There might be thirty two thousand hands raised right now but I can’t see you, so I’ll just go ahead and tell you!  Woman and bs.  I had to pluralise that word because as women?  We like a lot of things.  When we go shopping?  We like to buy an outfit.  An outfit is a shirt in plural.  It doesn’t immediately appear that way just looking at the word shirt, but it is.  Trust me.  Heh-heh-heh.  That’s just one basic example.  The only thing we don’t like in plural?  Are bills.  But you will see where the bs part of it comes in?  When you try to tell us that we have enough black pants to match that shirt.    

So, we are the favoured gender.  Okay?  As well we should be.  You guys had Adam to begin with.  We had...Eeeeeve!  Uhhhhm-M!  We deserve some sort of compensation for that.  But I think that the quicker we admit that we do need men?  The quicker we can stop having to take the trash out.  I mean?  The quicker we can begin co-existing and appreciating what we have to offer each other instead of infinitely fighting the equality battle.  

I truly do support and encourage being an independent woman?  But there’s something about having to take the trash down...shiT!  A-HEM!  I mean, there’s something about companionship of that special man that you can’t replace with your independence and vice versa.  Independence can’t even talk.  Your companion can!  Nothing wrong with being both independent and human.  The truth is that, we will never be equal because we are too different.  Our roles differ too much.  There will always be something that we can do, that they can't do better...works the very same way when you switch genders too.  It doesn’t meant that if you can change a tyre, you don’t need a man.  All that means is that you can change a tyre!  Congratulations.  It IS an achievement in my books.  Just like it doesn’t mean if he can give birth like Arnold Swarzenegger...he doesn’t need a woman.      

Is there a Women’s Day public holiday overseas as well?  Does anyone know?  Unless we only have it because someone in the government believes that we also deserve compensation because, well?  They’re our government.