The Birthday Blog!

Hap....wait you start, I'm shy!  Haaaa...okay no, I'll start, it's my blog. 

Happy birthday to youuu!  Happy birthday tooo you!  Happy birrrrrrrrrrrrrthday, Rambling At Random!  HaaaaapPy birrrthhhhhhday tooooooooooooo youuuuuuuuuuuuu!!!!!  Hip hippppp!  HoooooooooooraYYY!  HiP hiP!  HooooorayyyyyyY!  Hip hippppp!  Hooooorayyyyyy!  For she's a jolly good fel...

I never did like that part.  To me, it encourages hypocrisy.  Tooo many people that secretly despise you?  They sing that part like they mean it and then you imagine that everybody loves you but then soon after?  They spill alcohol on your couch, the staining type and think you forgot they just called you a man on your birthday!   

­^_^!!!!!!!!!!  Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm-M!  Look at that!  ^_^!  My baby's turned ONE!  Mannnnnn?  Blogs!  They grow up so fast, don't they?!!!  Soon she's gonna hit puberty and in a fit of rebellion, start deleting sentences as I'm typing them.  But lemme not think so far ahead.  One and a half human teenagers are more than I can handle for now.  Instead.  I will take this moment to reminisce about the fun I've had creating her!   

Annnnnnnd ACTION:  Rambler Taking moment .........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Now.  Guess what?!?  I have great news for you.  I have plans!  Oh god!  >_<!  Was....that?  Did I just hear bodies drop!  Well?  When you come to?  You can read that I'm going to celebrate with family and friends tonight at the Happy Hearts Mother's Day Dance!  Whoooooooooo.  Hoooooooooo!  Sob.

Surrounded by pensioners.  --__--

Because Happy Hearts is a pensioners club.  Wh-Why does my mum do this to me?  I'm beginning to think she's paying me back!  I was thirsty, for heavens sake!  People shouldn’t take five years of breastfeeding thaaaaaat seriously.  If anyone should be mad?  It should be me!  I'm the one who spent my entire primary school career with a lisp, being asked to repeat...She sells sea shells on the sea shore!

If I've taught you anything?  It's not.  To.  Judge.  A Rambler by the number of years she was breastfed!  Just be glad that by then, once the curry powder plan failed?  She put a band-aid on her breast and I felt sorry for her enough, to stop!  It means that I have a heart!  And that's what matters!  Ignore too, the fact that I would vehemently resort to cursing for my milk!  Thirst affects everyone differently. 

Once I got over the initial shock of hearing that I was a potty mouth at that age?  I came to one conclusion and one conclusion only.  That I was a good listener!  I had to have heard those words somewhere, right?!  Seems to me that those years helped instil in me, some pretty good qualities!

Evvvven if she did have to feed me while hanging washing on the line?  I'm tryna picture that.  O_o!  How strong was my ability to hang on a breast using only my lips?!  If I was actually that lesbian people said I was?  I’d be a hit just for that ability!  Maybe my mum bent down and just...felt her way around the washing line.  Some of you might be saying, "Gasp!"  You get those times when all you can say is, gasp.  Me?  I'm looking at the fact that if your kid can't help you to multi-task, then who can?  Remind me to ask her though.  On the hand, no.  Jussssss might encourage her to think up more ways to pay me back. 

From the compassion to the good listening skills, and like I mentioned just now?  Multi-tasking coach?  I’m not enjoying the repercussions.  I went from breastfeeding LIKE A BOSS!  To a social life that includes, almost exclusively, dances held by elders who might or might not have been brainwashed by a moon DJ.  Last year around this time?  On the 12th to be precise!  My memory served me well there only because it was my parents' 50th anniversary!  I don't take unearned credit!  I might’ve cursed my mum out as a toddler at some unfortunate times?  But claiming unearned credit is where I draw the line!   

Look?  We all wanted to be there to help them celebrate what was the first 50th anniversary in our family...that I can recall.  So, our intentions were great!  Little did we know that us youngsters would sit in utter horrification!  Yes!  It was so mortifying that I said horrification and if I could think of a word that better described that night......mare?  I'd use it. 

Song after sonnnnnng after song tortured our very being.  Being......there, I mean!  While these very pensioners....and they look all innocent and sweet?  I feel so used!  Elderly people have this....this almost angelic essence to them.  Lemme tell you something.  Those angels?  Motivated the DJ to perform continuous acts of what felt to us, the Unhappy Hearts, like we were being repeatedly decapitated, sewn back, decapitated, sewn back! 

If you know anything at all about me?  You will know that music means more to me than alota things do.  I turn to it for comfort, hope, company, fantasy, solace....pretty much everything!   Not once......not for a second did I ever believe that music could be used as a weapon of mass destruction.  It was a war of hearts and we lost.  In a massive way!  So much so that Gillians one earing jumped off her ear at some point and hid somewhere!  It never returned.  Those diamonds were like, "We were better off dirty and underground!"  And I don't blame them!  There were several moments during that evening that I contemplated leaving my car there as a cover for everyone to think I was still present. And running home in heels.  The earing however, beat me to it!     

But?  See, the thing is this.  And this is a fact.  I'm no DJ, but dammit!  I know some things, okay!  The more you dance?  To the shit.  The more the DJ believes that that shit don't stink!  It was a like sinking into a heap of manure, without blocked nasal passages!  Some of us refer to that as sinus.  So there were the pensioners!  Running wild not only to the dance floor, but on it!  To songs?  OMG!  I just bit my tongue just reliving it!  To songs that sometimes?  Sometimes we didn't even think they were singing in a dialect known to man.  Moon language songs or something!  They were not of this world!  And I don’t mean just the pensioners.  Those?  They were just not behaving according to the Handbook of Acceptable Pension Behaviour at a Mother’s Day Dance....for Dummies.

I think that Moonians succeeded in brainwashing our community of elders that night!  Let's be honest?  Some pensioners don't even remember their own names.  Or English.  Or the popular combination...their names in English.  How can I now just...simply believe that they were that excited to dance to that music!  My mind was so pre-occupied by the vile taste of dreadful melodic entertainment and the harsh reality that an earing had more courage than I did?  I didn’t even think to have them all line up once the lights came on and check for any moon-like symptoms.  There's no way!  No way that they could have been that familiar with that hogwash the DJ was spinning. 

It wasn't even like....?  You know how......?  Sigh.

Okay, okay......I have the perfect explanation.  I have a song right now where, Nicole kept playing it in the car, right.  I liked it from the moment I heard it.  But guilt washed over me for every single minute of pleasure that I felt, enjoying this song because of how much cursing it has in it.  Awwwwwwwww come-onnnnnnn!  You’re gonna keep talking about what I did when I was five?............shameful.  Anyway, moving on..........Thhhhhhhhe!!!!  

...............Style of rap, the way it's performed and the beat?  It's put together where it's simply the perfect combination.  Yesterday?  She got me the clean version.  I will admit.  The original lyrics sounded like me at five years old, there I said it.  Now?  They sound like me after some deep psychological trauma. 

Basically, the chorus now sounds like the artist has Tourettes syndrome.  

It went from, " I love bad #*@+?!# that's my #*@+?!# problem, n yeah I like to #*@+?!# I got a #*@+?!# problem........!" 

To, " I love bad-----------------that's my---------------problem, n yeah I like to---------------I got a--------------problem........!" 

The difference here is.....I can still dance to it.  Just like in the shower last night.  The beat is still hard and catchy.  The dialect is clearly Black American.  And aside from the whole tourettes thing?  Hey, I'd rush to the dance floor for this version!  And what I particularly enjoyed hearing was that he was man enough to admit he had a #*@+?!# problem...you know.  That was.........refreshing.  

Last years DJ?  In my opinion?  Was a car guard!  I see them popping up at functions more and more now.  You already know about the sunburnt "stripper" with the black formal pants and wayyyyy too much sweat to be deemed healthy, don’t you?  I’ve always said...this being the first mention......Once a stripper causes you to switch focus?  On how much lower you can bend your seated body behind the chair in front of you so that firstly, he doesn’t see you and get ideas and secondly, so that his sweat misses you and hits the unlucky person behind you?  Let’s just say that, that one experience!  Taught me everything I needed to know about keeping ones day job!

With alllllll of that said?  Wish me luck for tonight.  Thank you guys for taking the time to accompany me on my journey to a one-year old blog!  For the rest of the weekend?  Ramble Responsibly and who knows?  I might just see one or two of you at this dance tonight too!   

Energy....or the Lack Thereof

My head throbbeth, bursting with facts of Seventh Grade, Natural Science. Believe it or not, it's been a lifelong dream of mine to spend my Saturday afternoons, let alone, evenings this way. On TV? They do it so differently. Most of them are drunk and have sex with people they've only known for an hour or two. Don't try that at home. But the excitement, of myyyy real life, is overbearing. As convincing as that could be, when said in a hollow monotone with a hint of, "is this what my life been reduced to...?"

I now know the correct definition of all kinds of energy, amongst many other very useful, sciency things like the measurable properties of matter. My life is complete. I can now die a scientifically informed individual and once I get over to heaven, I can teach the Angels that they should never forget that the standard unit of measurement for the Metric System is 100.

If you happen to bump into me tomorrow, there's a good chance that I might offload alllllllll of this information onto you. Just to relieve my headache. You then can enjoy a sense of...of...something...that I strolled into the mall a dead, information sharer.

They say that in order to enlighten your fellow man, you should share both your practical skills and theoretical information with those you encounter. They forgot to include headaches. But that's why I'm here. A-hem.....yes. That's how an intelligent, well-informed nation is built. One intelligent, well-informed man with a headache does not a nation make! So share your knowledge. Go on! Share it right now. I'm willing to bet alllllll of these schoolbooks...no seriously? I am...that someone is sitting next to you who doesn't know how to do something that you do.

If not, pretend you're having a party. Send out emergency invites via email stating that you had hit send two weeks ago but you just now realized that the copper wire was stolen from your building thereby cutting off your internet connection in the midst of them being sent out. Mention that you thought your three days without electricity and the ability to warm cold food, only affected your light switches.

Give yourself about two hours 'til the party is due to start? That'll give you plenty time to set up the strips of timber, drill and nails...don't forget the grinder.....and when they arrive? Did I mention rope and tying guests to chairs? Let the sharing begin! How many carpenters does it take to change a light bulb?

If you take my advice? We'll all be dead at some point, but we'll have died, knowing that the energy from the sun is a renewable energy called solar energy and that its transmitted via radiation, meaning the transfer of heat energy from one substance to the next through space by means of air waves. Don't get me started on the process of convection! And that's just what you learnt from me! Add to that, carpentry and all the other information transfers? The rewards are endless!

Lawwwwwd, this is what you call draining my energy!!!! As you can see, I find the concept of kinetic energy and measuring the area of my bed with a formula, just as riveting as the next administration manager or....(Insert) your job title. Scientists excluded. However, at this moment I'm way more interested in the transfer of my pain energy.

Look. I'll understand fully if when you caught a glimpse of me? You take off running. You can even use the upcoming Comrades marathon as an excuse. I won't let on that I am well aware that you haven't run a day in your life, unless a sausage dog was chasing you on your way to visit your girlfriend or away from your boyfriends place after he threatened to run his fingers through your weave.

Ladies? From one to another? Come're. Come sit next to the Rambler. Therrrrre you go.....You wouldn't have to deal with that petrifying fear if you didn't allow society to convince you that you're not beautiful, naturally. Because you ARE!!!! Too many of us are dying of anorexia, spending fortunes on wearing other people's hair, because we're that pressured by what has been deemed to be beautiful and what has not.

Question.......Would you wear someone else's underwear just because society said that yours wasn't the right texture? Okay. I admit. Society should not have that much knowledge about your underwear but you know what I mean. Unless there's a person publishing pictures of them each time you've hung washing up on your line. I use bad examples at times, granted. But for a good cause.

The last thing I'm gonna do is pretend that I don't find faults with my own body, my hair, my looks? Because I do. Connnnnnnstantly. But guess what? It's not gonna cause me to rush out there and beg the doctor to suck the fat outa my thighs. I'm so terrified of doctors with instruments. 'Specially sharp ones.

But society. Aside? I have someone who accepts the thunder thighs IIIII think I have. And the stretch marks that I believe makes me unlovable. Or the cellulite that I reckon should have me banished to a cave for life. Not to mention, my hair that will never ever be as thick as Mariah Carey's! He accepts them all. Someone who thinks I'm stunning on my worst hair day and when I feel my fattest.

I wish for you, the same kind of support and acceptance. But moreso? The same kind of motivation to know and accept that you are worth the admiration without the unnecessary alterations.

Peace! V (that's my peace sign....I didn't fall asleep typing).

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

Conspiracy Theory

May?????  Woahhhhhh!  Know what just hit me?!?  This is Rambling At Random’s birthday month!  Hip hippppp!  Hoooooooo---okay, not yet!  One year old on the tenth!  Feels like just the other day that I started rambling on here about the goings on in my head.  Feels like just yesterday that it was Friday too.  Yet here we are again!  

Time sure is vanishing faster than our monthly salaries, isn't it?  A word of warning?  I care, so I share.  First it's your money, then it's time...next to go is your sanity.  Soon all we're gonna be left with is being able to rock back and forth trying to lick our own eyelids.  People have told me it's not a pretty sight!  So I stopped doing it.  There went my only entertainment.   

Damon and I were working on Afrikaans last night. 

Yessssssssssss, yesssssss, there’s more.

The boy wrote that that a "bibliotekaresse" is a liberian. 

Eh?  My first impression?  It had something to do with the Bible.  Thankfully, I'mmmmm not writing the test today.  'Cause clearly, my years of torture, I mean....learning...this language paid off.  The book, however, says it’s a librarian.  I see now, how he coulda made that mistake.  Although he got it right after having to write it out ten times.  Liberian.  Librarian.  Same difference. 

What I don't see?  Is how it benefits him, knowing that.  Look?  I'm forty years and seven months old....don't read that out loud.  I've never, and you might have, (shrug) I dunno, but I’ve never had to stop my car and ask a pedestrian, in Afrikaans, for the nearest, "liberian".  Especially, not when Xenophobia has proven to be rather lethal in certain places.  Then I'm the one people are calling the cops for!  "Officer?   That woman...there!  Yes, that one.  She asked me where the nearest liberian was.  And I don't think she meant, librarian."

I won’t lie.  I suppress my need to cry when it's time for Afrikaans because I'm as useless at it as I am at Spanish.  And I've never studied Spanish.  “Ma?  What does this word mean?” 

O_o?!?!? 

However, my ex-husband is fluent.  Seriously, I don’t know how that happened.  I saw his Maths marks when he was in school.  Only thing I can think of is that he has a flare for languages, because he is just as fluent in Zulu.  I can speak Zulu too. 

Lor.  See? 

But one has to decide whether erupting emotions are more important than your child’s psychological welfare.   What I always consider is that if I start wailing?  It could result in REVTEARAFRIPHOBIA: The fear of your mum bursting into tears in the midst of revising Afrikaans.  And with control tests hot on our heels?  That would be badddddddd.  I’m already on the verge of a nervous twitch trying to remember how to spell that liberian word.  Picture it.  Me with my wailing twitches?  Him with his phobia caused by my wailing twitches?  >_<   

My point is this.  It wasn’t, but when I feel that I’m about to talk a little bit of sense, I tend to begin my sentence with...my point is this........For generations we have been laden with learning Afrikaans where instead of that?  We could have learned how to be single mothers.  Or fathers for that matter.  Wait.  Waitttttt.  Stay.  The sense part is coming.  If you were a single mother?  Like me.  Wouldn’t you rather be taught how to replace car radiators or fix underground leaking pipes?  Than being hunted down in a police-car-chase because you mistakenly left out a few rrrr’s and used e’s where a’s shoulda been? 

Okay, lemme go as far as this.  Evvvvven as a happily married couple?  Wouldn’t you prefer knowledge that would come in handy? 

I KNOW!! 

I know I know I know!!!!!!!!!!!

Mannnnnnn.......to have a brain like mine!?!?!  I’m so jealous of myself right now...it’s like?  If I could just freeze the awesomeness at this very moment?  But enough of that self-confidence crap!

This was some sinister person’s plan of preventing us from being rich.  Waiiiiiiiiit now?!?!  Stop!  Why are you running?  They knew how much we’d save by being able to fix our own cars and broken pipes in our homes, man or woman, not to mention electrical faults!  The very possibility of those savings turning into small fortunes?  In our favour.  Was enough for them to devise a plan to make it compulsory in schools to confuse our tongues and pronunciations, with Afrikaans, where the end result could verrrrrry well be jail time.  All we wanted was to return our library book.  I know.  Horrid!  And now because of the misunderstanding?  We owe late fees.  Broke and in jail.  Still asking for liberians, wondering why we’re being beaten at every turn. 

To think, I thought we were dealing with a bunch of twisted bastards nowwwww..... mmmmmmmm-M!  Conspiracy unfolded.  Thank you.....thank you very much.

The Rambler has left the building. 

BREAKING NEWS, “FAMILY ATTACKED BY DEAD SHELLFISH!”

O_O!  

I've never seen prawns THIS size in my lizzife!  Mozambique's shellfish strike me as the sort to have the power and temper to flip the script...dead!  Turn your back for a second?  All of a sudden, deceased, de-shelled prawns and crayfish jump off the tray and dump YOUR ass in sizzling hot garlic butter like, "Here!   Let's see how youuuuu like it!" 

Clearly there's a secret illegal underwater steroid ring run by a mafia family of Kingpin.  These are not your everyday, agreeable-looking shellfish.  I wondered why, when I arrived, Sean was practically sprinting into the car and sped off with Tre' to the "soccer grounds."  Okay, okay...they did come back with a few suspicious looking, well-placed, blades of grass under their soccer togs, holding a big bag of balls, because Sean is assistant coach and also, Tre' did mention that he got kicked more times than he'd like.  But that could happen anywhere.  I arrived as they were leaving where Tre' even forgot to greet me.  The pressure, not to foil the get-away plan, was too much for the little boy.  I later learned that he forgot too, to put his chin-pads on.

Dude was meant to clean them.  Dude is Sean, for those of you, who happened to start reading from this paragraph.  If you like, we can also refer to him as the escapee.  Sharde' was meant to cook them.  Fair trade, I thought?  I did get that feeling of it’s now or never.  Like when I played it back in my mind as I walked up the driveway.  But I then understood the haste that I’d just witnessed 'cause when I get into the house?  She's de-shelling these...these...O_o!  I expressed my surprise at the existence of such humongous things, it was hard not to, where she told me these are actually, small, compared to what they saw while they were there!   Without delay, I started having distressing visions of dodging crabs the size of our late dog, Tipsy, running sideways across the shores of the Mozambique oceanside.  Nnnnnnnnnnnn, not too sure if I wanna visit that place. I remember, clear as rain, what happened in the movie, Anaconda!

Lemme telya....After cleaning all those gargantuan, steroid-pumped, alien sea creatures?  A few hours later?  Sharde', with her infinite patience and laid-back demeanour?  Had begun flinnnnging them into the pan and flipping them around.  All the while, her eyes mumbled.  In tongues!  And not the praising kind either.  Infinite had found its end.  

Me?  My trust issues moved to the fore.  I had the sense to go sit down.  Far.  I've much, still, to to do in life.  Uhm!  I'm even stuttering while I type.  Being attacked by overgrown Mozambiquan scavengers isn't one of them.  Already, we deal with similar fears at a stop street on a daily basis!  Mozambiquan or not.  Enough is enough.  Hey!  Talking about scavengers!  Hmmmmmmmmmm, okay no.  That's inappropriate.   

Lyle, in all of his protective glory?  Remained still and silent in his room with the light off.  Should we have all fallen victim to the wrath of the giant shellfish?  The only thing I can think of?  Is that he sat in the dark so that they didn’t sense there was still life still lurking somewhere close-by.  Maybe, he felt that someone had to be alive in order to impart the story of how the rest of us were eating alive by a marinated portion of the dead Mozambiquan ocean populace.  I dunno.  It’s anyone’s guess at this point.  If I wasssssss eaten alive, I would be able to tell you more ‘cause his reasoning woulda then been revealed.

As the oldest one in the house.  Can’t believe I just said that.  Can’t bellllllllieve it was true.  >_<!  

Either way.  As the oldest one in the house, it was my sworn duty to give Sharde’ some insight into the possibilities of the future by informing her that, “If we all wake up with a fever tomorrow, then we have contracted Malaria!”  And because I’m sometimes the clown aunty, she almost fell of her chair laughing.  Either that or she was dizzy from the hours of cleaning those suckers!  I threw my head back laughing too.  I’m funny sometimes, so I laugh at my own jokes.  Sometimes.  Even moreso because Sharde’ then says, “Can you picture us all in medi-centre, all weak, walking with our drips....”  Hahahahahahaha!  Paige then pipes up, “Can’t even have a break from the children while you’re in hospital, ‘cause they right there in hospital next to you...”  Hahahahahahahahaha!  

Re-United...and It Feels So Good!

It's 7pm, South African time while I type this in the dark amidst flashing lights. I'm at my family reunion and the scene is like so....Sharde' and Brindley are strutting in pointed direction strides across the other family members on the dance floor as if its a do or die airing of Strictly Come Dancing! I'd vote for them for sure! For the wooden mic! Or is it? Wooden dance floor? I dunno. Either way, it won't be gold and shiny! HA! Strangely, as somewhat of a dancer? I don't watch SCD. I'm gonna have to ask myself why. The music's too loud right now. I won't hear myself! Plus the lights are blurring my vision. I'm sure that's more than evident by the mistakes I'm failing to make while I'm typing. Talking about skill? Like...we were. The first prize goes to that little boy in the blue t-shirt! That boy's got some great dance skills. It's almost as though he does nothing but watch MTV music all day and comes up with or memorises routines for each song. They don't teach that in any school I know. When the lyrics said, stop and stare? He stopped and stared! And I believed him! Uh-oh! I've been summonsed to the floor. Excuse me for four minutes and twenty three seconds.

Okkkkkkay! Shew! I'm back! You know how in This Christmas? When they do the soul train and the family members are on either side in a line and one at a time they do their best moves? Or funniest...down the middle? Remember that? It was at the end of the movie. Well? Nonnnnnnne of that going on here. This is a...a...soul circle. Which means the destination is the start. O_o! Now my mum and eldest brother are in the centre of it. OMG!

"Who? Who me?"

Gillian's looking at me with a dancing, bring it here, motion of the arm with that...that curling finger. Why is she sultrifying her eyes like that? She wants my cellphone. We'll fight to the death, lemme tell you! Ay? I hope she doesn't do that in the confines of her bedroom. I feel naked. How uncomfortable. Some men are into that kind of uncomfortable calling....way? I have my own bedroom, thank goodness. And there's nobody in it to call me....not thank goodness for that part. I miss Geese.

Loves got them dancing on the floor! And here I thought the melody was mostly to blame. You're never too old to learn, I guess. Annnnnnnd there goes Brindley again. This time with Sharde's mother, Lynn, my sister. My mothers other daughter and grandchild of my grandparents. That's what happens when you're the son of a Pastor. You progress from daughter to mother without anyone becoming suspicious. The onlookers just think they're encouraging you to stop dancing to worldy music, while they dance to it along with you. Trying to invite you to come to church in the morning. I don't know how anyone misses the fact that it usually takes all song long to do it. I'm thinking it's a trick. Or a stubborn, heathen, relative.

I'll be back! Billie Jean. Need I say more? Alrighiiiiiidy then. I love Michael Jackson! More? Uhm! Dead or alive. That's all you're getting. Oh? He was apparently spotted in South Africa. I'm not surpised. I spot people daily and they aren't even celebs. I'm not dancing. Just inhaling the greatness that is he!

Now the music's telling the ladies to let their bodies flow. Baddddd advice! Specially if you have spells where you believe you're a lady. Yet you normally stand to urinate. Ooooops! Eh. I've heard of that happening. Somewhere in a dessert. When it's hot. I'm not making this up. Google, "confusing effects of the dessert sun." And if nothing to the tune of what I just told you, comes up? Don't believe them. Use yahoo. But then again, they might be in co-hoots to prove me wrong? Walls aren't the only things with ears. Yahoo, ears, and you'll see how many your internet connection has. We're safe nowhere!

SEE? SEEEEEEEE? And look at that! Brindley's now jazzing with my MOTHER! That's climbing directly up the generation ladder, right there! Unnoticed! He's not even eleven yet! Even going out and coming in. You know how when your partner makes you do that? Yeahhhhh! Annnnd? Back to Lynn! Can't watch! Haaaaaahahahahhaha! The kid is as slick as....? What's a slick thing? Well? Whatever came to mind? He's slick like that thing.

I'm just kidding around. He's our little nephew. Can see his my mums grandson. That boy loves a good party! And shed's real, silent, face turning blue, tears when it's time to go home. Each and every time. Strange fact? This very hall we're having this reunion in? It's where they will come to church tomorrow, so earlier he says to his father. "Look at what they're doing to our church?" Meanwhile, com're, lemme tell you a secret.......you haven't gotten off the floor since! Little hypocrite. LOL!

And now? Now, I reallllllllllllllly miss Geese. You are my Lady, by Freddie Jackson, is playing. Nooooooooh, he didn't sing this to me or play this track for me. But I am...his lady. And I miss him and really wish he was here, not hundreds of miles across the ocean. Ironically, my mum and dad are the only ones on the dance floor, waltzing to this song.

So I need me a moment.
Sent via my BlackBerry from Vodacom - let your email find you!

Believe in Yourself

Wednesday night, I put up a Facebook status asking whomever happens to stumble across mine. And actually reads them? Without sneering. Or throwing up. Some of them have that effect on me. Not my own. Other peoples. So I'm rightfully assuming that some of mine do the same to them. Only fair, right? And I've heard, or read...somewhere...that Libra's are fair people. Unfortunately, by the amount of times I've heard my kids say, "But that's unfair?!" I'm not sure if someone was just pulling shit outa their thumb when writing up sign traits. Unless, they were talking about skin colour. (Shrug) Even worse. Then, it's a just load of bullshit.

"If you knew then what you know now? What would you do differently?"

Sitting here, looking at the irony of that very status. Eh! There truly are times that I marvel at life's whispers. For me, this status was something of a foreshadowing for me. Because like I said, I'm sitting here, Friday morning, knowing exactly...aargh! I'm not gonna bore you with that. For right now, though....

I'd gotten some responses where ofcourse, not all were the same. Some were content and would change nothing. Like Crystal and Ralph. Liars! I'm KIDDING! I'm kidddddddding! HAHAHAHHAHA! Drop the bricks. I prefer my skull...closed. And dry. Maybe they were just shy to say. Maybe they actually werrrrre THAT content. Which would make them one or two of the few people I know, that are! And that in itself, for me, is an admirable place to be at in your life.

Either way. Some wanted degrees. It's never too late, Maree. You're still young enough to achieve that! Three years will get you one. Six months if you pay the lecturer! A-HEM! Others? Like one of my daughter-nieces? I have lots of those. Even daughter-unrelated ones! Would change a lot. I don't blame you, my child. Mishy wasn't specific, though. Oh! And Donny? Donny woulda waited for the water to boil before he put the noodles in! Lol! That was funny. Can see he's American! No. No, really, you can. He looks South African Black or Coloured, but I can see he's not. Helps to be from here to know the difference. Not only is he gifted, musically? But he's always hungry. Go-figure. Go figure, what? I don't know, but it seemed like following with that was the right thing to do.

But that's as far as it went, because I de-activated my Facebook account yesterday morning. Why? Well? Plainly put? EVERY CHOICE BEARS A CONSEQUENCE. I was taught and I've seen it with my own eyes too. I would have have to have some kinda powers to see it through anybody else's. That even NOT choosing has a consequence. Now? When you're a chicken with a choice? Like I am? Even worse! I chose a big loss over a small one. Which is horrible. It's beyond horrible. It's shameful.

Hey! Enough with Rambler bashing. Oh, sorry. I'm the one bashing the Rambler. But look? A word of advice. If you take that little sentence with you wherever you go? The one in capital letters that makes it sound like I actually have some sense? It might help you to stop and think, before you do. Anything.

My only hope is that my blog readers from there, caught my message to come and visit me here, before I mysteriously disappeared off of their status feeds. Globally, ofcourse? That's wishful thinking on my part. It would be impossible but I'm keeping the faith that they were all logged on and paying attention for the five minutes that it woulda been up. Ha! As if I live in the magical kingdom of Terabithia. And if they weren't, which I'm trying to constantly deny, then I've just lost over a thousand readers. That was my highest post view on my page. Butttttt?!? Such is life, I guess. Sometimes, you win and sometimes, you lose.

As far as the status question, I put up? For me? It's simple. Going back to my childhood days, I'd have believed in myself a little more. The possibilities woulda been endless! When you finally have that sense of belief, what should have come naturally......comes naturally. You explore your talents. You're confident. It's easier to express yourself. Even when you fail it doesn't become a thing of planning your jump off of the nearest bridge. No. The blow to your self-esteem is much lighter.

There's no fear of being alone. With belief comes strength. And with strength comes courage. With courage...(I'll stop soon)...comes the unmistakable feeling that you are the navigator of your own life.

You're able to stop just, drifting through life. I've drifted for the most part. Just....such a lack of self-confidence. All I knew was that, this is the path that I chose and whether or not it fulfills me? It's all I'm gonna get. And then I'll die. And sppend all of eternity regretting the things I never got to do.

I guess for us all, the reasons differ. But at times, belief in yourself or lack thereof, comes from whomever it is that you let into your life. The ones that you were born in the midst of. And the ones that keep in your life. I haven't quite gotten there yet, but I'm in a much better place than I was before. I didn't get here on my own. Not by any means. All I'm trying to say is, it's never to late to live the life that you were meant to. All it takes is something, significant, good or bad, to happen in your life. Or someone, good or bad, to happen to your life. When you have a point at which to compare? You then realize how much you're missing out on or how much you have lost, without being your own cheerleader. Much like when you begin to believe in yourself and you're going through the motions, you, at some point, are able to look back and realize how far you've come.

As I said, I still have far to go, but I'm a long way from where I've been. So? There...looking at that question in a long-term sense? That's what I'd do differently.
Sent via my BlackBerry from Vodacom - let your email find you!

Ranting at Random

I don't know about you, or you!  Yes, you.  The one pointing to yourself asking, "Me?"  There’s nobody behind you.  But times sure have changed, haven't they?  I don't deny that change is good.  We all need to change and evolve!  Or so they say!  Me?  I say why fix what's not broken.  These people, on the other hand, keep tinkering with shit that's working fine!  Only to +#*@ it all up and blame dead presidents!

So then we sit.  I'm on my desk chair right now.  I don't know where you're sitting.  Hopefully not on some white sanded island, because I’m not in the mood to feel jealous today.  But wherever you are?  We sit.  And wait.  For the next thing to change.  And all of a sudden?  Looking for a high school for your child becomes beyond painful?  Ay!  I don't need thaaaaat much change.  I just need a high school for my kid.  Period.  Preferably, one that I don't have to sell myself, my house and possibly my children, to finance.

I was alive and so were you, when we were promised free education.  Remember that?  It might have just been the euphoria of whooooo-hooooo, no more apartheid.  People say stupid things when they’re all joyful and happy.  Whatever it was.  Joke time is over.  Not like we knew it was a joke to begin with.  But what isssssss funny?  Is how the good change never sees the light of day!?  That would be too much like right in a wrong-run situation! 

Instead, not only do we have to pay a gazillion times more than what it costed back in 1994?  But it's become quite obvious that we may very well die waiting for that to actually happen.  Some people were like, "Whaaaa-what?!?  O_O!  Free education?"  Popped out twelve more children, "Viva free eduation!  Vivvvvvvva!"  Just so that those twelve could get what the previous six didn't!  And now all they can do is stand there and look shell-shocked about, "How the hell are we supposed to educate our children, you lying bastards!"  I wasn't one of them but I know how some people think.  And then promptly go and vote these liars back into government!  "Viva, a packet of sugar and three loaves of bread, Viva!" 

Okay!  Cool.  Then, we'll pay.  The best things in life are free, apparently.  Education not being one them.  By now we’ve concluded that!  They could only be talking about one thing!  Chocolate. Which makes that saying, about as true as the free education bullshit we were sold two decades ago.  But when you're considering looking for a place that pays for the donation of your hard-earned blood to be able to afford these schools?  Yes!  My blood is hard-earned!  Don't forget that my heart is on the opposite side of my chest to yours.  That qualifies as hard-earned, in my books.  Free education, then plain passes the mark of a broken promise and moves straight towards a blatant lie. 

You know?  It's not even so much the paying part.  Okay, it is.  The amount.  Not the principle!  But then, you have to practically send your kid seventeen thousand kilometres west of the eastern border to be satisfied that they're getting at least a decent education!  Us?  We went to our community schools.  We walked there.  In the rain, sometimes.  And still, countless successful people have emerged from them!

In our days?  And I purposely left out the word, olden!  That's for when I describe my seventy-year old dad.  Who by the way, agreed to homeschool my son once he saw that I was on the verge of tears over this whole school issue.   Meanwhile?  I was at a party.  How embarrassing.  "Booooooo-hooooooooo!"  That's me crying.  "Why are you crying?"  That's someone asking me why I was crying.  "I can't deal with this school palava!" "Shutup and dance, you're ruining the mood, you moron!"  "O_o!"  That's me wondering how I managed to surround myself with insensitive party animals!  But thankfully, I caught my tears in time!  So nobody had to call me a mood-ruining, moron!  However?  I immediately started googling and managed to aggravate whoever sat on my table by reading out aloud, everything I could find on homeschooling.  Jussssssssssst in case someone wanted to call me a moron!  I'd then be one up on them!  I didn't care.  Nothing was stopping them from getting up to dance!  I was in the middle of a crisis.

Now?  Where was I?  Oh yeah!  Back in the day?  There was little to no thought about the schools that you would attend.  My mum and dad worked very hard for us.  Just like many other parents in our community.  At work.  That's where hard work SHOULD take place.  Everything else, should be enjoyable.  Enjoy the kids when you get home.  Enjoy feeding them.  Enjoy scolding them.  You know?  In these times?  Everything has become hard work.  Work.  Play.  School.  Walking...especially on the beachfront.  Tourists?  Please?  Moonbags and walking in the dark.  No!

This rant is only because I wanna be as calm, cool and confident as my parents were where school was concerned.  Maybe I should rename my blog, Ranting at Random...I do alot of it.  But do you blame me?  I live here.  I need to talk sometimes.  And you’re the one’s who are forced to listen.  I’m sorry.  And thank you.  As I was saying, I don't want to have to agonize over education.  It’s a right.  Supposedly.  But it’s fast becoming a privilege to afford a good one.  If I send him, here?  Am I a bad parent?  If I send him there?  How the f+@# am I going to pay?  If I send him to that one?  How will he get there?  I want to go back to the days when I was in school, except I wanna be the parent! 

You'd think that with the advancement of technology?  Brains should follow suit.  I mean?  Brains do invent technology, don't they?  Oh wait.  What was I thinking?  None of them are from our cabinet. I wasn't thinking.  MUCH like our cabinet. Those are brand, spanking new brains.  That belong in a wooden cabinet, if any!  Aaaaaaaaaaah-ti-shoooooooo!  %$@$%#^%^%$%

Bless me!  

Sinus.  

I think I might be allergic to thoughts of our government.  Aaaaaaaaaaaah-ti-shoooo!  Damnit!  Gimme a moment to sneeze them outa my system!  What I'd really love is if they were out of THE system!  And I've just said to myself, "Are you honestly that surprised?"  It’s been almost two decades of this crap!  Because I KNOW manners, as Summer would say.  Lol!  Kids!  I answered myself with a big fat, "No!"  Still......doesn't help my dilemma but here, dilemma is the order of the day, nonetheless.

A Little Victory, Leads to Bigger Things….

Good Morning from Philadelphia!

So! It's been a long night for the Geeseter! BUT!? I finally won a damn game on this season mode for NBA2K13! I'm using the Philadelphia 76ers & I made some changes to the starting lineup & the team overall. Plus on this game, Andrew Bynum is actually capable of playing. To be totally honest, I would be sleeping right now normally. I'm not gonna bore you with my personal problems, I'll save that for another time. But I'm fighting high blood pressure & bad health, frankly I've got no business doing anything that stresses me out. But our Rambler can attest to the fact that I'm usually someone who overcomes obstacles & I'm still not too keen on simply sitting back & just giving up.

I'm looking for work & in all actuality, winning this ONE GAME, because right now we're 0 - 7. OR WE WERE, OH & SEVEN! But winning this first game of the season, on this game? I let Our Rambler see some of the old introductions from when Electronic Arts used to make basketball games for the NBA over here in America. Most of you know Electronic Arts as EA Sports & their most notable game & franchise/series is John Madden Football, or Madden, as it's called now. But during the time I was in high school, in the late 80's, they were the first to produce a series of basketball video games called Lakers vs. Celtics & the NBA Playoffs. These games eventually grew into the NBA Live franchise that Electronic Arts ran up until 2010. I stopped playing the basketball games around about 2000. I was used to doing it in real life, but my knees & ankles took a toll & so that was that. 

Mind you, all these ailments, aren't helping in the job search department either. BUT, I always have some sort of means to still be able to LEGITIMATELY MAKE MONEY PEOPLE. LEGITIMATELY. MAKE. MONEY. HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA! Now don't distract me, cuz all this ties together & it's past my bedtime & I'm up typing this BE-CUZ!? The basketball video game I am playing now, was the competition of the one I used to originally play. I initially BOUGHT THIS ONE, because the NBA Playoffs are going on right now over here & me & the Misses favorite team, the 76ers, didn't make the playoffs. No small thanks to Crazy Ass Coach Doug Collins. 

So I bought NBA2K13, because the price had dropped from that ridiculous $60 damn dollars, down to $40 & there were too many fools still buying it for it to drop down to $30 & frankly, I was feeling nostalgic, because last year the 76ers were one game away from playing the Eastern Conference Finals against the Evil Miami Heat! We would have lost, BUT IT WOULD HAVE BEEN GREAT TO SIMPLY SEE THEM PLAYING! So I bought the game & brought it back here, thinking that this game was going to be so much more different & better than the last time I played any video game basketball games. I still have both my NBA Live 96, which has the unnamed Free Agent character of Magic Johnson on it. And NBA Live 99, with Tim Hardaway on the Cover & of course, Allen Iverson playing for the 76ers! That's when our team was actually worth watching. Right now? We need a coach who wants to coach & acknowledge the talent he has, instead of whining about what he doesn't have. 

So!? I put 2K13 in & lemme just say. I also waited forever to get this game because I'm not a fan of Jay-Z. Lemme just state that right off the bat. I don't care for him or Beyonce, at all. So when I saw he "executive produced" this game, I was like... "Great. That means I gotta hear his corny-ass every 3 seconds...." I put the game in, his lame ass intro came on. I hit start & skipped it. Then restarted it just so I could make sure it was as corny as I knew it was... AND IT WAS! Then I started fiddlin around with the options, then went straight to Season mode. Picked the Sixers, where in THIS GAME'S SEASON MODE, I don't have TOTAL CONTROL OVER THE TEAM. So I can't GET RID OF DOUG COLLINS. Then they have it set up where you can trade ANYONE FROM ANYPLACE BETWEEN YOURSELF & THAT TEAM!

That? Is lazy. ANNNNNNNNND. CORNY! But then I said, eh! It fits today's generation of "entertainment". So I got rid of SPENCER HAWES! That name alone should cause my sweetheart to QUICKLY INTERJECT ABOUT GOOD OLE SPENCER HAWES! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! THAT'S IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY BEEN READING HER TALKING ABOUT CRAZY ASS DOUG COLLINS, THE NOW FORMER! COACH! WHO QUIT SOON AS THE REGULAR SEASON ENDED! Lemme tell ya something, was listening to sports talk radio here in Philly while fillin out online apps, see!? I multi-task for mine, YEAH! But that press conference with Doug Collins, lemme tell ya somethin!?!?!? That dude was SENILE & CRAZY! SERIOUSLY! And people were calling in to 94.1 WIP & 97.5 the Fanatic & were like "WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THIS GUY!!?!? NO WONDER THE TEAM SUCKED THIS YEAR! HE'S FREAKIN CRAZY!" HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!

So in this video game, it's not a COMPLETE SIMULATION OF BEING A TEAM OWNER or anything like that. But you can trade players as you please. But you can't fire your coach. You can't build a new area, move the team, etc! So if this was a video game review, this part already would be an F. Straight up, cuz it's lazy. Think I'm gonna pass this blog post on to my oldest son & let him post it on his video game blog. I dunno. He hasn't sniffed using that place since he didn't win that Witcher 2 Review contest. Either way, I traded players. Sent Spencer Hawes to Utah & got Derrick Favors. He has been strong on the boards in our 7 losses but his scoring leaves a lot to be desired... A LOT! And his free throw shooting...? He couldn't hit the ocean WHILE HE'S IN IT! 

But I start playing the game... And kid you not I'm like... WTF, IT PLAYS JUST LIKE NBA LIVE 96!?!?!? WHAT THE HELL!?!?!?!? IT'S 2013, WTF IS THIS GAME PLAYING LIKE SOMETHING THAT I DON'T EVEN PLAY & HAD ONLY SEEN THE LIGHT OF DAY SO I COULD SHOW MY WOMAN THE INTRODUCTION TO IT!?!?!?! 

Bottom line is that it has an instruction manual where you'd think you're trying to learn how to FLY A SPACE SHUTTLE! AND NOT SHOOT A FREAKIN IMAGINARY BASKETBALL ON A FREAKIN VIDEO GAME! All of the FLAWS, from the early EA NBA Live Franchise, ARE ON THIS GAME! I WAS UTTERLY SHOCKED! FOR REAL FOR REAL! So my NEXT INSTINCT WAS, lemme just go on ahead & use what I KNOW WORKS from those games for THIS ONE! Uh-UH! Because now a lot of these sports based video games, like Madden, have sliders where you can change different aspects of how the user or cpu shoots from the field. 3 point shots. Etc etc etc! So whereas the ole ones I used to play it was all ON YOU! Which is why a LOT OF PEOPLE would slam down joysticks & controllers, AFTER GETTIN THEIR BUTT WHIPPED! Because the games were alllllllllllllllllllllllllllll on you, as a person, to know when to do what, etc! Now?!?!?

Mad computer help AND!? INTERFERENCE! So unless you tamper with the sliders in the options & all of that, the game can get REALLY OUT OF HAND IN A HURRY! And if you set the level TOO LOW, then it's not challenging at all! Never mind that unlike the old NBA Live games I had, you had the OPTION to set the CPU in season mode to facilitate trades with itself AND YOU! Which meant me sending Spencer Hawes to Utah for Derrick Favors, the computer would weigh the trade & the two players & may or may not reject it because it doesn't help the team it controls. 

What the hell does ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL THIS, GOT TO DO WITH YOU!?!? OR EVEN ME OR WHY I'M POSTING THIS!? Because it's been a pretty craptastic day for me & the Rambler can attest to that. Really it's been a pretty bad weekend in ways I certainly wasn't expecting where I'm not in a position to take care of the problem. So in the midst of this I'm also fighting with this freakin game that I just spent $40 bucks on too & instead of it being a stress RELIEVER, the damn thing has me on the verge of snapping it in half & throwing it away! But I went on ahead & stuck with it & finally started figuring out how to actually play the game without;

#1) CHEATING, by lowering the difficulty or altering the sliders to the point where I wouldn't miss even if I was falling onto my FACE! 

#2) BREAKING THE DISC, this is something that my oldest son has seen me do on a couple of occasions, where the game just wasn't worth my time or money & is so frustratingly annoying that it is impossible for the makers to not have seen all the problems with it during testing. Whenever I break a disc, I don't normally buy anymore games from that particular maker or video game studio, thus saving myself time & money in the future! 

#3)QUITTING, by simply turning it off, tossing it into the darkest corner I can find & then never speaking on it again! 

The reason for me posting this right now is because with the way the weekend had gone & the way certain things had gone yesterday, I had no business sitting down & saying "Lemme try this damn game again." But for me, it was all about knowing that I can actually get this if I stick to it. The personal challenge of, lemme GET THAT FIRST WIN! In this damn game. Then sitting down. And going through the grind that this thing is, where just now!? I won my first game & it literally came down to THE LAST. SHOT!

The irony was & is that Evan Turner was the player of the game. But the point behind this is that I put this kind of persistence & determination into everything I do. And that's the reason for the post. Things went badly this weekend, but it certainly wasn't the end of the world & I have people counting on me. Pressure? A LITTLE. But much like my coming back to get this FIRST WIN, quitting isn't gonna solve anything. And trying to CHEAT my way out, well, that would make me like some people who shall remain unnamed. I guess the bottom line is that I won this first game by giving it everything I had from start to finish & not worrying about the fact that I was already 0 - 7. And I guess that's my point, you only lose when you give up.

With the things going on right now, this is a small victory, seemingly meaningless. But the timing & nature of it, having to keep cool & not get agitated. It was a nice reminder of how I've even gotten this far in life & it reminded me of WHY I've gotten as far as I have. Good omen, people... Good omen....

Later! 

The Guru of Buttcheeks…!

Good evening from Philadelphia!  (Relaxxxxx…relax!  I haven’t run off in the middle of the night!)

I’m sure you’re shocked to see that I’m back, yes. No? Maybe so? I just finished my yoga lesson for the night, which means that I am actually typing this post at 11:52pm EST here in the US. As you know, our beloved Rambler has returned to South Africa (SEE!  I’m still home!) so I am simply sending her this post to put up on her blog because I enjoyed blogging with her & I know how much you guys missed me. With tomatoes. Cuz I know some of you threw rotten vegetables at your monitors & laptops once you realized that I am trying to steal away your Rambler to the United States. It’s okay, I’d react that way too if someone was kidnapping my favorite aunt, niece, cousin or obsession, AHEM! You know who you are & so do I. Cut. It. Out. Speaking of which!? BE RIGHT BACK!

OKAY!? Note to reading audience, cooking while typing, BAD. And reckless. Never mind that I am doing my yoga lesson at nearly 12 midnight. Why? Because tonight I’m going to get started on Chapter 3 of Broken Griffin. I slept most of today because the blood pressure medication has the side effect of drowsiness. So to recap, that would make me a man with high blood pressure who does yoga & blogs, while trying to write the next chapter of his book with our Rambler…! Thaaaaaaaaattttttttttttttttttttt, just about covers it, AND OH?!?!!? I’m the guru of life, too, heh heh heh, NO! -_- Guru of Buttcheeks. That makes no sense which is why I just said that, because it ties into the whole nonsense of being called “the Guru of Life”. Look? I’m not gonna waste your valuable reading time talking in circles, but for me? I can’t stand when someone says some ole off-the-cuff garbage because they know they’ve just gotten caught with their hand in the cookie jar, taking a cookie that they know they aren’t supposed to have.

Guru of Buttcheeks?

Look? (Uh-Oh!  He said, look?  Now you’re gonna get it!) I don’t ask to speak up, I’ve learned the hard way early in life & especially living here in the US that if you don’t stand up for yourself. Then you get crushed flat, they skip the running over part over here. So with that said, I tend to pay attention & all too often I’ll see some ole crazy crap where it’s like…? Wait, did that guy REALLY JUST TRY TO TAKE CANDY FROM A BABY!?!?! CUT. THAT. OUT! YOU FIEND! Then I jump into it because, IT’S A BABY! And a grown ass man is trying to take candy from it! So should I reallllllllllllllly sit there, & just say, eh! That baby looks pretty tough, I’m sure it can fend for itself, right! RIGHT!? WRONG! IT’S A BABY! Now? A child soldierrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I dunno. I’m thinking not only is this guy STUPID but this is now an armed kid who’s probably seen more hell than any grown adult. If you’re stupid enough to try & take candy from ONE OF THEM?!?!? I’m thinking we really don’t need this person to procreate, for real. His decision making isn’t too great already & having him pass on his powerful stupid-decision making gene, really isn’t necessary. Unless you’re just into that kind of thing.

What’s my point with this ramble? I do my best to not make painfully obvious, stupid decisions. But I always find that it’s the idiot that does make PAINFULLY OBVIOUS, stupid decisions that always comes up with some cute little crappy nickname for me. Because I told them or someone they knew, some solid advice, take it or leave it, their call. And now for Boo Boo the Dummy, their life has all of a sudden become complicated because now that person just isn’t going along with whatever they needed them to go along with. Look, going along to get along over here in the US, usually will get you right along to either prison or a reality TV show, but everyone knows or figures out at some point or another that the person/s are just “along for the ride”. Once that happens then the con artists & hanger-on’s, show up & start with the buddy-buddy routine until the person is flat broke or can’t carry them anymore & then they get ghost or gone with the wind or whatever phrase means that they leave once the gravy-train hits last stop.

The whole Guru of Buttcheeks nonsense is because too many times in my life I’m movin’ down the road of life, you know, drivin’ my own car. I might see another driver with a flat tire, ay!? Ain’t no thang but a chicken-wang, baby! I’ll help ya out man, or woman. Next thing I know I get to know this person & then we start hanging out or get to know each other & then it turns out that their car didn’t get a flat by accident. But someone in their camp, made sure to deflate the tires, just enough. Or just straight-up knife their tire, ya follow me here. So it was deliberate, but the person doesn’t wanna honestly have to deal with, damn, I got sabotaged by my own peeps! Don’t ask why I’m using all kinds of slang & terms from the 70’s & 80’s, I’m just going where the typing takes me. But the bottom line is, they know that that flat they just got, shouldn’t have happened. Now it’s all about having to honestly look at the fact that they might have some people close to them that really may need to check THEMSELVES & UNTIL THEY DO, may or may not be as close as they once were. Me? Someone asks me a question, as my woman will tell you, I’ll answer it. (Hmmmmm-M!  If you seriously wanna know if your butt looks big in those jeans?  And really, you know that they look as if you can comfortably transport forty eight passengers on it?  Yet what you wanna hear is that it’s smaller than that skinny model with the white powder still stuck to her nose?  Don’t ask Geese!)  And for some people they like asking questions where they don’t honestly want the answer, but they’re playing the role & trying to be all tough & show they ain’t gone get punked, they ain’t gone get played! By NOBODY!

Meanwhile of course they’ve already been punked & chumped & whatever other word means played for a fool or manipulated. Like the song says, everybody plays the fool, yours truly, YEP! So it happens, only becomes a problem when you try to hide it & protect your ego & only make matters worse. So they ask me, what do I think. I answer. And the answer I gave them is actually the answer they already had, but they simply didn’t wanna deal with it. But now that someone else has brought it up, AND, what amounts to “a new perspective”, cuz I’m new on the scene. Now it’s time to do something & then you know how the rest of it plays out from there. The person who ends up getting their opposed BUTTCHEEKS! SLAPPED WITH A WET TOWEL! Then asks the person they’ve been playing for a sucker, why’d you just do that!? As if they don’t know they’ve been runnin’ game this whole time. So when they’re confronted, then it becomes, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT’S THAT GUYS FAULT THAT YOU DID THAT! I’MA FIX HIM!

And that kind of pass the buck bull crap, realllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllly, makes me angry. So instead of the person simply coming clean or just BS’n & then STOPPING what they were doing. NOPE! It becomes a whole big SHAM-OCURAY! Where now they cause this giant childish SCENE! AS IF THEY CAN’T REMEMBER THAT THEY WERE DOING THINGS THEY WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO & NOW THEY ARE FINALLY! FINALLY! BEING CONFRONTED OVER IT! And not in some hostile way, but they’re busted! And instead of being graciously-intelligent about it, it’s time for the talking loud & craziness to attract a crowd, cause a scene! And then try to make a b-line at me! Ay, if that gets a person off, but the reality is that running up on me because I actually give more of a damn than the idiot charging me? And then the finger-pointing nonsense & drama, god I hate UNNECESSARY, DRAMA!

I like things, QUIET! And orderly. And when a person is doing something they’re not supposed to, they shouldn’t make a bunch of noise & make matters worse when they finally get caught. Just, go along quietly, think about your mistake. And don’t waste precious air carrying on like a two-year old! Why have I typed all of this? Because we live in a world that claims so hard to heaven that we want people to treat other people with compassion & concern. But for too many of us now, we get s----tfaced angry when our “so-called secrets” come out, because someone actually did stop to care & now the supposed dirty laundry is aired & feelings are hurt & don’t judge me, don’t judge me, SHUT. THE HELL. UP! We. Are all adults. Just like I know I am typing this, some people will be like, hell’s this guy talking about. STFU! FOR REAL MAN! Others will be like, I get it! That’s why I don’t say anything to so-&-so because they have this this & this going on & then they make me listen to their laundry list of problems! I talk to them, THEY THEN GO RIGHT BACK TO DOING THE SAME RETARDED CRAP THEY WERE JUST COMPLAINING ABOUT!

Or, my pet peeve. I answer someone honestly. (Ay?  As I said in the previous bracket!  Yes!  That wassss me in the bracket up there…as if you didn’t know.  Azzzzzzzzzz I said.  This here man?  Sugar coats NOTHING!  He knows what sugar is and what a coat is, but never does he use those words together!  Under any circumstances.  Unless it is to tell you never to do it.  I’ve learned over the years, even while we were still penpals.  He won’t call a rake a lawnmower, even if you paid him to do it.  And he won’t do it because, firstly, well?  It’s not a lawnmower.  And secondly, if you try to pick up leaves with it, and it doesn’t work?  He then has to deal with, “You told me this was a rake, and I’ve been trying for weeks to clean my garden with it….it won’t work!  Liar!”)  They use what I said, because the reality is they already knew the answer & for whatever reason couldn’t or wouldn’t do what they knew they needed to do. Then the actual guilty party gets pissed! Because now the person I answered won’t just let them DO WHATEVER they were doing. So now it’s, why you in my business!? Why YOU IN OUR BUSINESS!? Most people who say that, generally have their business all around town already, but most of those who know them or know about them, just ignore. Which does a world of NOT GOOD, for everybody. Because it teaches people to just GO ALONG WITH & IGNORE, things that they know are just, wrong! Then the “offended” guilty party has a whole bunch of unneeded, LIP-ACTION! Instead of just being remorseful or even just saying let me get outta here! Instead it’s, lemme try to PRETEND LIKE, what I was doing was right & justifiable! When they know that it’s not.

So my advice is, don’t have your butt hanging out! Doing things you know you’ve got NO BUSINESS DOING! At some point or another, while everyone else may have let your vile crack of ass be shown to the world! There is the off chance that someone may come along with a wet towel of unwanted holier than thou, TRUTH! AND SNAP IT ON YOUR EXPOSED BUTTCHEEKS!

Back to the Grind

Hello, all the peopllllllllle! ^_^!

Phewwwwwwww!!!!!! What a week it's been! Had this been Saturday? All I'd have been thinking is, "Thank goodness I didn't have to smile in real-life! These emoticon thingy's sure do come in handy at times. Can I call that an emoticon thingy? Hmmmmmmmm? I'm sure I can. And if I can't? I'm still thankful for them because I'm too exhausted to use however many muscles it takes to make my mouth smile. Not that I can smile with my ears. And if I could, I wouldn't have the energy to use the muscles to make those smile either. I cannnn move them back and forth though. Look!!!! No hands! I wonder how many people in the world can do that? My dad can...he probably taught me. But I taught myself how to plat my hair. And got it right sitting on a car as a little girl on Park Rynie Beach. How I remember that so clearly is beyond me. Hey? Was sunblock available to Coloureds then? I'll be furious if it was 'cause we came back from camping navy blue. I wonder what's the weather gonna be like tomorrow. Still can't believe how cold Philadelphia was. Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! I miss him. My eyes are starting to sting. Did Damon finish his Ronaldinho project in school? Note to self...check with him. I think I did a good job on Paige's hair last night. That's what mums are for. Partly. Dye and iron their daughters' hair while falling asleep. While. Praying they don't accidently singe off the prints on four of the fingers on their left hand as they periodically go limp as she dozes off to the sound of the iron. No. Iron's don't sound. Make sound. Shhhhhhhhhhh! Not you, the iron! Hairdryer sounds can put a person off to sleep. Having ex-fingerprints would be painful. If they don't? Mums. Then who will? Where are aunty's when you need them? Nooooh! Just remembered. This school term will end with control tests! SHIT!!!! Late nights of testing soon. Wait?!? The chair issssss done, right!? Yes! Yes! We got an A+. I still will never understand the grading of the chair versus the report. Shrug. I just thought-shrugged without lifting a shoulder. Damon's dance show was great tonight. Nevermind, I didn't wake in time this morning. That's...not what mums are for. To get up late on dance day. Any day. On any day, it's not a good day. Late days are bad. Bad mum. Where was the alarm when I needed it?!? Oh yeah? Next to my head. God! I'm exhausted. No, that wasn't a statement. It's me telling God, that I'm exhausted and that he needs to step in before I break, fall and shatter. I should be sleeping right now. But I'm too high on tiredness to do the right thing. Rest. I had twelve hours straight sleep the one day while I was at Geese's. That's half a day! He was so proud of me. What time do I have to be awake tomorrow? Soccer...my head. Hurts. Let's hope I hear my alarm this time. This morning was a disaster. Let's ho........"

It's a good thing that it's not Saturday or else you'd have to listen to me ramble on and on about the week I've had. Heheheheheheh! "So?????????? You're stressed out? Already?" Lasssssst week, I was. Pshhhhhhhhhh! Puleeeeeeeeeeaze! Whose blog are you reading?.................................................This week? I have different...like? See? Last week, it was all the chair and hair and work and get up early, the show, dance and little sleep. But this w...Sighhhhhhhhhhhh, yeahhhhhhh! Yes, I am.

Didn't take long, did it? Some of you might want to point and reckon, "Weak woman!" And you have every right to. Most of us are free to do as we please but I'll be honest with you. I am weak in certain areas. ESPecially when it involves cold. And well? Cockroaches. But this has nothing to do with either. Neither does it have anything to do with swimming in the ocean. Sea sand...ewwwwwwwww! This has everything to do with coming home and immediately being bombarded with too much for someone who's just arrived from being totally relaxed for three weeks in a different time zone.

But it's like? Okay? Lemme put it to you this way. Did you see that thing spinning on top of that tornado this past week? "There's a TOP of a tornado!?! O_o! Wait?!? There was a tornado this past week?" In the life and times of me, The Rambler? Yes there was! And I was the thing on top of it. That's the very reason I haven't blogged since I've been back! Aside from the fact that it felt kinda impossible to keep a single thought together while getting spun dizzy? I didn't think you'd appreciate slurred typing where most paragraphs ended with my thumb pressed on zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz! Even in that state, one still has to take the time to be considerate. It's been so bad that my body has completely forgotten that Geese made sure that I got alllllllllllll of that rest while I was over there. Which is just sad! Because he made a point to ensure that I relaxed out all of the past one and half years since we've seen each other, and leave from there, feeling loose-shouldered!

I don't know why I keep thinking that life will somehow be on a slowdown, just because I'm jetlagged! Until I get a painful reminder that you'd have to be realllllllly special, Jesus-special, wouldn't you? For life to take your fatigue into consideration. I should create one of those text pics of myself looking all bedraggled that reads, "Life be like...AINT NOBODY GOT TIME FA DAT!" That one's for you Geese! Lol! (I showed him that video and all I've been hearing, is, Sweet Jesus, it's a fiurrrrrrre! Hahahahahahahahahaha!!!!).

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