Bye-bye Blog

It's with a truly heavy heart that I type this entry. Life? And it's curve balls, huh? Eh! They say what doesn't kill us makes us stronger. And they normally say that when we're at our weakest. I'm here to tell "they" that those words don't help, although I'm well aware that the intent is well placed. Just? Doesn't reallllllly help. Unless you've swallowed a fly in your sleep and hoped you'd wake up alive? Then yeah! Not when you feel as though you're in the middle of explosions. I used to enjoy domino's. When they we're black and plastic and had white dots on them. But, when someone so cleverly attached them to an effect? Not. So. Much. Fun anymore.

Right now? Even though Geese did warn me that I'd be sitting right here, in this very spot at some point? Alot has happened. Ever since I can remember, I've worn these rose-coloured glasses. They're pink. As tomboy-ish as I am, I like pink. And the only time I take them off is when disaster has struck and it's to wipe the dust from flying rubble off of them. Annnnd back they go.

Learn from that, if anything. Warnings? They come from all types of different sources. Be it a person, or a premonition? Or a dream, or a blatant in-your-face act? Most times, we ignore them because of, well? The rose-coloured glasses orrrr the temporary discomfort prevention might cause, or we don't wanna be seen as the boogie-man, or just? Plain ol' misplaced trust. Too much misplaced trust.

It's been..... Wayyyyy too long a week. I honestly tried to blog yesterday but my mind was just blank. Packed to capacity, but blank, if that makes any sense. I tried to blog again today, until I faced up to the reality that I'm as uninspired as a broken twig right now. Broken twigs, last time I checked, just laid on the floor, dried up and became part of the soil. They can't write or grow or recreate themselves. Let alone be funny and jovial about how their purpose has changed. Something about detachment, I guess?

I suppose what I'm trying to say is that I have to go. Thank you all for the support you've given me as far as my blog. I hope? That once life becomes less draining than it feels right now? And my blogsession returns? I hope to come back and share more with you. I've had as much fun sharing my rambling random thoughts as I know some of you have had reading them.

If I taught you anything about anything? I'd hoped that it was to Ramble Responsibly! By that I simply mean that there are nice ways of saying not so nice things. Taking that approach? Less people in the world hurt. If your wife's butt looks big in those jeans, say..."Yes, but it's the best butt I've seen in my life!" She will appreciate your honesty annnnd the boost of confidence! Trust me. If your child cooked you a horrible meal, try a spoon of it and say..."I'm not hungry right now? But I know I'd enjoy it better once I'm hungry again." Then make sure he/she doesn't see you throwing it in the outside bin. You get the picture, huh?

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

Poppin’ and Leakin’

I honestly don't know what I'd do without this phone!  You know the saying, "Once you go BLACK(berry), you never go back!"  Heh-heh-heh!  Nice slogan, huh?  Blackberry!  Loved by many, cursed by more!  Saturday that passed?  The signal was down for most of the day.  You knew exactly who it was that owned a BB.  All you had to do was look around for those breathing flames out of their nostril, and biting their bottom lip with their top teeth mouthing the sixth letter of the alphabet!

Reminds me of when I was younger.  We had a mulberry tree at the back-side of our house.  Houses have back-sides too!  You know, the side at the back?  The back of the side of the house.  Uuuuurgh!  Easier to visualize than to explain!  Much like the pain from kicking the top of your toe open.  If you’re home right now?  Check!  You’ll see that I’m not just being my silly self!  Anyway, we used to pick the ripe ones and put them into a packet, smash them up with curry powder, salt and vinegar!  And m-m-m!  He cut the tree down!  We used to climb the peachy tree on the kitchen side of the house!  M-M-M!!!  He?  Cut that one down too.  I’m starting to see a pattern here!  Guava tree?  O_o!  Gone!  Avocado tree?  Thing of the past! 

Okayyyyyy, so nowwwwwwwww I get iT.  This!  Is why I turned to sweets and chocolates!  He cut all of the dietary goodness out of my life.  I need to go home after work and tell my dad.  “My hips said that it’s allllllll your fault, not mine.  I was just compensating.  That’s all.”  I feel lighter already.  Me and my hips have been at war for years over this!  But today?  Right now.  Here!  It’s finally come to light that it wasn’t because of my callous cravings for sweet things, and it had nothing to do with my teeth either!  It had everything to do with my father callously taking a chopper and aiming it at our fruit trees!  See?  See that smooth shift of callousness that just went on?  Like a breakdance wave!

OMG!!  I watched Breakdance with Turbo and Ozone last year again when I was over at Geese’s?  Russia copied it for me because I wanted to bring it home for my little breaker, Damon!  HAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!  Lemme ask you this?  How did we enjoy watching a man in a midriff?  More than once?  I kept my eyes on the TV as the movie played and thought.  And thought and blinked and thought.  And frowned at the last thought, “Mannnnn, this was so popular when we were young!  But?  He?  He has a midriff on?  ShhhiT!”  Remember the A-team?  And Night Rider?  Have you watched reruns of those now that 25 odd years have passed?  They look like old pictures that have faded over time, don’t they?  And how small were our minds?  On a Friday, after Alison and I negotiated who would be on the couch next to my mum.  We would be sitting at the edge of our seats with the excitement!  Waiting for Kit to fly or Hannibal to say, “I love it when a plan comes together!”  Watch it now and see how all you’re thinking is, “I’d love it if the TV exploded  right about now!” 

We were crazy about breakdancing.  All the children our age and older from across the road!  Some journeyed from near and far.  Believe that if you want.  It could be true, but I wasn’t sure.  I just added it into the story to give it some distance.  A story with a measure of space is always more interesting.  I’ll be more than happy to demonstrate!  “He walked to the shop.”  Input distance aspect.  “He tirelessly walked seven kilometers further than the shop actually was and promptly got lashed from one end of his backside to the next, when he got home late.”   Do you see how distance affects the sentence and sets the scene of firstly how far he walked annnnnd secondly, how much of his backside was belted?

But!  Back to breakdance!  Me?  I?  And I was not the only one!  With things that feed newborns?  Doing the worm on the tarmac!  Tarmac’s are cemented!  HELLLLLLLOHHH!  Grown neighbours!  Could you have at least told me, in my weak moment of pretending to be Phylum Annelida?  That I could have seriously injured the part of me that would ensure the health of my children?!  What if they popped?!!!  What if I didn’t see a big rock?  Not big rock, I’m overplaying my role with that one.  A big stone?  A sharp one!  That’s jagged?  What if?!  Would I be sitting here right now?!  And the answer is?  Yessss I would!  So I have failed to make THAT POINT!  Of it affecting me sitting here.  ‘Cause I would be.  Just with thin children and a hole in my one breast.  Where the milk would have leaked out. 

Aaaargh, are you going to argue about everything I say today?  How do you know the milk wouldn’t have leaked out?  Did you ever have a whole in your breast?  With milk in it?  I haven’t but I almost did if I did the worm and never saw that stone!  It’s the same as a plastic bottle of Clover 2% Low fat milk.  Poke one.  Go ahead.  Poke it!  Tell me if everything that’s in it, stays in it….ay?  I’m just saying.  Logic is logic and if you don’t believe me, then try it.   Just?  Try it with a plastic bottle of cows milk, not with your…plastic bottle of cows milk.

Back to the Future

Do you ever wonder what life would be like if you went back to being, say a year old?  And just lived it all over again?  There’s no question about the fact that if I was ever granted that wish, I would sleep more!  Voluntarily too!  At a year old, I had no inkling that as an adult?  Sleep would be the one thing that life constantly deprives you of.  Hell!  I didn’t even know I would grow up to be an adult.  All I cared about was my mum’s never-ending supply of milk.  ‘Til I was cFoIuVgEh.   They told me that as I grew up, I would curse at my mum…”I want my %^&$en titty!”  Not for one minute, do I believe that!  There’s just no way I could’ve said words like, titty!  I want proof.  I’ve seen my baby pictures.  All twelve.  I wasn’t saying that word in any of them!

We all know and have experienced it.  Kids?  Their eyeballs are bloodshot!  Little bodies feel ragged and drained and possibly injured from literally running wild all day, yet, come time to sleep?  The war is on!  It's taking every ounce of energy they have left to not close their eyes!  And when it’s not working?  When their eyelids are no longer co-operating?  Then they get all mad with us.  Like we are sohhhh evil for “doodoo baba-ing” them.  Lemme tell you?  If I could go back, I'd be theeee most rested child that there ever was!  Sealy would use me as their mascot.  I’d sleep evvvvvery chance I got.  They’d have to have smelling salts on hand for me! 

Like now?  I'm yawwwwwwwwwwning. Ahhhhhhhh, ‘scuse me!  I needed to go to bed last night, like I should have done thirty eight and a half years ago.  Except for this time?  I wasn’t fighting sleep.  I am an adult.  And with adulthood comes responsibility.  So because of responsibility, I couldn’t sleep.  It’s responsibility’s fault!  Annnnnd the ex.  Don’t forget!  So, in actual fact?  It’s the ex’s responsibility that I didn’t sleep!  Nnnnnnnnnnnnnn!  Maybe not.  Don’t mind me.  I’m just tired.  But?!

A-HEM!

Seriously though, do you ever wish that you could just….go back to when your child was born, so that you could right the mistakes you made while raising them?  Is it ever too late to do that?  Okayyyyyyy-okay-A, don’t all scream at once.  Even I know that by 56 years old, it’s too late!  By then you forgot that they’re even your child.  “Mildred?  Is that you, dear?”  “No, Ma, it’s me, Andrew!”  “Okay, Patricia!” 

What about if you could go back to say…?  A year before your child was born?  If it were the case, would you be able to be honest with yourself, and admit, “I shouldn’t have had kids, because I can’t properly deal with the aspects of being a parent.”  Geese and I have had many discussions over parenting.  One thing he always says…”being a parent is not as easy as it appears to be.”  And it’s not.  Sure?  It looks cute and cuddly when you watch a mother and her baby interact.  But like boerboels?  They grow.  Very big.  Sometimes you have to even put them down.  L  I feel relatively emotional today because like many others, I could have done a better job.  And I should have done a better job.  I was certain that I knew all I needed to know about adequately raising children.  From a very young age.  My dolls?  Can tell you just how wonderful a parent I was. 

And that’s in fact where the trouble starts.  Marvel and Company need to discontinue the manufacturing of dolls because they give females the utterly wrong idea of what parenting is truly all about.  Firstly?  Where’s the father at?  Right there!  Right.  There!  Wrong message!  What do we see when we look around today?  We see young girls, with children.  The father?  Is now with someone else.  Expecting his second child.  Or?  The young girl is with someone else, expecting her second child.  The concept of family has faded into past generations.  And why?  Because of dolls.  And I know that for a fact because my granny always said that she had eleven kids because they were so poor and had no TV.  I already told you that remember!  So?  Further deduction would be that they wouldn’t have had money for dolls, either.  My parents are still together.  Their entire generation, is still together and have had kids with each other.  Not each other, each other like in the broad sense of the word, but with each, other! 

The similarities are so remote, when you’re taking care of a pretty plastic child, who has no voice, no ideas, no hormones, no emotions and nails that don’t grow?  It’s like flesh and…plastic!  It pollutes your mind with falsified expectations.  They will sit when you make them.  Sleep when they’re not at all tired!  Never complain about how you dress them?  But most of all, you never ever have to be concerned with whether they’re making the right decisions.  You never have to question your worth as a parent when you can’t help them deal with the difficulties that life so generously offers.  It’s a farce.  A charade.  I mean, I’ve never gone to my childhood friend and sobbed about, “I don’t know what to do…my doll is going through so much right now!  How do I help her get through it!”

It’s sometimes blinding to see the difference between reality and fairytale.

Displacement Issues

Do you know what I woke up thinking about?  Camping!  Urrrrgh!  WTH?  My subconscious slept on the wrong side of the bed!  Clearlllly!  We’re sohhh not on speaking terms right now!  If there is one thing that I don't miss?  Not one bit.  Is my parents ignoring the fact that they bought me a bed!  And placed it in a warm room right next to our own bath!  Thank goodness we have the ability to grow.  Up.  And say, "You know what?  NO…Torment is for criminals!  Tie my hands behind my back and feed me olives rather!  At least that way I can use my lip muscles to make your life difficult!!"  To give credit where credit is due?  Even though I wished really hard that I wasn't.  We were alive.  While we camped.  That's always fun!    

But for years I never knew what our neighbourhood looked like over Easter and New Year!  Instead we spent those holidays surrounded by both very sober and extremely drunk strangers, and I call some family members, strangers because a few of them turn into someone I don't recognise when they’re drunk.  I can barely keep up with one personality per person.  When the Old Year turned into the New Year, everybody starts banging pots and pans up and down the dusty road between the row of tents!  I’d be asleep in the tent, begging the air, “Just…just shoot me now!”  Like the air had a gun?!?!  Kids, I telya!  The things they believe when they’re desperate!  And I wasssss desperate.  Even a bullet wound woulda offered me solace!  

Feel like I'm about to work through my own "ocean" issues.  What's an acceptable hourly rate for working through your own issues?  Maybe a new pair of boots?  I dunno.  We’re gonna have to negotiate a fair exchange, me and I.  I mean?  Fall asleep on the mattress?  And that’s after the trauma of bathing!  Omg…Starting to sweat!  O_O!  Wake up on the grass because seventeen more people who didn't come with us decided to have a sleepover in our tent!  Hogging our blankets.  While the residents freeze on the grass, not knowing at which point during the night they were either pushed off or just rolled off at their own peril!  Do you know what that does to a person?  Not knowing at which point they were pushed off the mattress or whether they rolled off themselves?  You're stuck between being okay with it, and being angry with someone else!  That uncertainty?  It's draining!  Hoping you weren't laying on an ant heap!  In your sleep, you're asking yourself how you got there!  Still having to hope, "Please don't let me be sleeping on a heap of ants?!?" 

And then all that sand.  Uuuuurgh!  My teeth are attempting to retreat deep into my gums right now.  I can taste the grains!  Too much sand on the beach!  Even in the ocean!  Sand that's looking for a new home in your crotch!  Ewwwwwwwwww!  That's just the worst kinda sand!  Sand with displacement issues!  Those grains should see Doctor Rambler, I'm getting good at sorting out issues!  The city really needs to think about cementing a portion of the sea for people like me.

One year it rained!  You’re trying to tell me that our parent’s didn’t see the thick, black clouds before we left home?  NeeeeeO!  I bet they didn’t even bother looking at the sky that Thursday!  Every bit of our clothing got soaked!  We sat soggy and miserable in the car, while the tent put its hands behind its head, like, "Ahhhhhhhhhh!  Just what I needed today!  Space!"  A-HA!  This has to be why I don't like rain!  Mannnnnn, I'm on a roll today!  I'm digging deep within my past and successfully unravelling my issues with wet things.  First the wet sand, and now, the wet….rain.   

The only thing that I looked forward to was taking a walk along the shore for hours by myself to collect breasts!  I mean shells!  Shells!  I didn’t find the pointy ones!  And I didn’t put two into my bathing suit and pretend that I'd grown breasts in the time it took for me to get from the tent to the shore and back!  I didn’t.  Not one time did I do that!  You’ve got the wrong girl!  It's her!  Not me!  Do not defame my character!  And you're like, "GASSSSSSSP!"  Oh please!  Don't sit there and pretend as if you didn't do that!  You know that we even had spares!  A set of breasts for everyday in case we lost one or both while we slept…cold, itchy and hopeful!  

Asking myself why people say, don’t sit there and pretend?  I find that very closed minded and jumping to conclusion-tious!  Like it’s just assumed that one can’t lean over…and pretend or do a cartwheel…and pretend.  Yet, we pretend in so much that we do!  Paying bills?  We pretend to be happy about giving someone else our money.  Offered second helpings of a dinner you really enjoyed and want more of?  Pretend to be full!  Get out of bed?  Pretend to be energetic about it.  Asked what condoms are used for by a three year old?  Pretend not to faint!  I was just so tired!

I just realized that I’m sitting here (and I am sitting!) trying to prove myself wrong, because I did just say…don’t sit there and pretend, and now my argument is getting rather heated, with me. 

I’m like, “Why do people say that?” 

I respond, “You tell me.  You’re the one who said it!” 

I come back with, “You have a big mouth, you know that!?” 

I counter, “Hmmmmmpf!  That makes two of us!” 

I close with, “Shut up!” 

……………………..silence

Decree of Friendship

Dammit!  Kept telling myself!  "Remember this dream!  Remember this dream!"  Woke up and promptly forgot!  I couldn’t have been dreaming about winning money, because I didn’t wake up depressed when I realized it was work today.  It couldn’t have been me running fast, slowwwwwwly.  I never ever forget those.  All I remember about my dream is that I was sleeping.  In my bed.  So the scene, where it happened and what I was doing?  I got that!  But that’s it.  And now I'm awoke, with no memory of what I did while I was asleep!  I just lost hours of my life that I'll never ever be able to talk about.  Or account for.  Right now, there's a drunk person reading this, mumbling, "It's as if you're describing me!  I feel so close to you right now!"  And I'm saying, "Come any closer and I'll anti-booze you so bad, you'll be holding your liver in your hand!"    

But it's alllllll my ex's fault!  Your eyeballs shot to the left!  I recognise that look of confusion!  When the eyeballs shoot to the left!  Dead giveaway that you haven't been divorced!  We all know that while you’re still married, it's more of a case of your eyeballs being shot AT.  A little advice though, from me to you?  You there!  Johnny walking crooked!  Keep drinking like that?  And you will be the ex!

You see?  When you're divorced?  It's okay to blame the ex for anything that goes wrong in your life.  It's in the decree!  Stated clearly!  Don’t…don’t make eye contact with me.

It states clearly..."With reference to paragraph 9 of Section 3, Point 7, anything that goes wrong in your life, is the ex's fault.  You've been through enough.  No need to carry unnecessary blame for when anything goes wrong in your life!"  They even put that exclamation mark in the end so that you know they're serious.  Like this!  And look at how many times they say, "When anything goes wrong in your life"?  Exclamation marks annnnnd repetition?!  Ay, you don’t have to convince me…twice!  So?  Guess who I'm cursing when I walk into the corner of a table!  “OOOUCH!  DAMN EX!  LOOK WHAT HE %&$#* MADE ME DO!”  Uhmmmmmm-M!  Don't talk about when I blowdry my hair and it starts raining!  “HE KNEW THAT I WAS ^%&^#&*# DOING MY HAIR TODAY!  NOW HE MADE IT RAIN!“  If your decree doesn’t say that?  Use the powers of your mind.  Rearrange the words…like.  I did!  Heh-heh-heh!

When you do that?  When you make it say what you want it to say?  You’re forging a relationship with the decree.  It then becomes more than just a piece of paper.  It becomes the soulmate you had to create.  Maybe a better word for that would be, papermate.  Sheets of flattened wood don’t have souls.  So, you create that relationship.  A take-take relationship.  Anything goes wrong in your life?  You TAKE out your decree and read what you want it to say.  You then TAKE the blame and throw it on your ex.

A plus to this?  Nobody gets hurt.  You’re feeling lighter.  Paper doesn’t feel…and your ex doesn’t even know you’re blaming him.  He/She just wonders why, more and more, they’re finding themselves bent over like the Hunchback of Notra Dame.  Even that’s easy to fix.  If they even begin to suspect that you have something to do with their newly-formed posture?  When they come by to fetch the kids and they’re complaining about sore, heavy shoulders and a rounding back?  Just stay calm and…suggest a chiropractor.  ‘Cause if you start with, “I never did anything!  I didn’t blame you for anything!  Why?  Why you looking at me like you wanna shoot at my eyeballs.  We’re not married anymore!”  Then you might as well just teach him how to blame you each time he looks at his copy of decree.  You’ve already let the cat out of the bag.  Just go all the way and tell him our secret, then delete my blog link from your computer and phone so he/she doesn’t know where you got such great advice from.

Windy Expressions

Today is today!!!

And see? You think someone's done something to realllllly piss me off, don't you? On the contrary, I'm giggling because I'm reflecting on how funny that statement truly is. Unless you've been home-schooled in a rainy desert? You know that its most common use is to start off a rant, right?! Think about it. You're all riled up. Fisting your hands. Cracking your fillings from grinding your teeth then getting even more angry once you realize that your medical aid for the current year has run out. Trying to show your anger and conviction where? Alllll you're doing is stating the obvious! And the obvious is, today IS today! For today by any other name will not be tomorrow.

Let's follow the little tweeting bird and see where it leads us...ahhhhhhhhhhh! Right to Scenario's house! I was just saying to myself, "It's been a while since I saw her!" I must have said it loud, to myself. Even birds heard me! Awwwww and look?

It's Scenario's first born...shhhhhh, she's trying to tell us something.
If you open with, "ToDay, is todaY! I'm putting my foot DowN!" Coupled with a snarling set of freshly flared nostrils? Ay, you're just leaving the door wide open for a witty, cool, comeback..."But? You're standing? Which means your foot IS dow..." If you are the wrong-doer? You're not going to be able to finish your sentence because frustration and possible flying crockery could follow...your head, soaring through mid-air to the tune of, "YouuuuuuW-a!!" Caps are for emphasis! And the "a" at the end is an absolute given! It shows that the angered party is at a total loss for words and they're about to drive to the police station to pay a grievous bodily harm fine in advance! Even as we imagine this, you gotta say it right, emphasize every capital letters or else you lose the intention. The result of THIS option, is a higher chance of violent outburst, by you, due to unwelcomed wit. And a rise in expenses from having to replace the crockery.

Hmmmmmmpf! Its as if we came here to visit Scenario's kids, 'cause now the second one is trying to talk.....
Now? Another no-no is ranting in small letters! 'Cause then you just sound high. "...today is today i'm putting my foot down..." You don't want that because the offender might think that you've been smoking something and give you this shrugged shouldered response, "...okay." Plus, your body gets all confused wondering, "wtf? why do I feel my temperature rising yet I have this strong urge to smile pleasantly??? What have I been smoking?" What's worst is that the all-weekend funeral attendee might still be under the impression that there's room for, "Starving! Did you cook?" To which you would calmly and ineffectively say, "i'm gonna cook your ass." More shoulder shrugging. The result of THIS option, is a possible surprise visit to rehab, for you, due to a far tooooooo laid back approach to anger. And your body convulsing in confusion.

I've told Scenario 1 and 2 to go to their room.....! I'm taking over the conversation.
It would grab someone's attention more if you just got straight into it like this, "ToDay! I'm gonna IRON your cloTHing!" First reaction? Frown and look around. And only because they know they should be in trouble for coming home at 2.18am on Sunday morning from a funeral that was held on Friday! When they see nobody behind or to the side of them? They'll start smiling and tilting their head to the left, gazing at you with heart-shaped eyes, thinking about how blessed they are to have such a forgiving and understanding partner like you and THEN? Once you see that adoring gaze? You immediately finish your sentence with, "While you're wearing them!!!!" If you EVER wanted to know what a blackboard duster felt like? This would be your chance because in that moment? You ARE the duster! I hope you don't get sinus. And their smile? Is the chalk that WAS on the blackboard! Gonnnnnnnne!

Let me just state, categorically ofcourse! Always wanted to say that! I have alwayyyys wanted to state something categorically and I never got the chance before now. You know you're good when you create your own opportunities! I am in no way encouraging violence or the incorrect way of ironing. Because I stand for peace. World peace. Like a beauty pageant contestant who uses those two words to answer any and every question they're asked!

"What is your biggest aspiration?"
"World peace!" Smillllllllle!

"What was your major in college?"
Grin, "World peace!"

"What is it about fashion that you love the most?"
Gulp! Nervous twitch, "W-world peace?" (But thinking...'World peace your moTHer, when I get that damn pageant trainer, I'm gonna fold him up like a pretZeL! He didn't prepare me for deep questions like THis!!')

So nope, I'm not promoting violence at all. Makes me wanna puke just thinking about the sound that it makes when someone's being punched. And that's the God's honest truth! I'm just merely teaching you how to express yourself WITH WORDS so that you get the desired result. Which is not the infliction of pain. It's peace in the world! As well as within yourself! 'Cause if you keep all that anger in? It will give you wind. For real! You know? It makes me feel self-conscious when you look at me all empty-eyed and blinking! For reallllllll!?!

Okayyy, okay! I admit that I haven't actually SEEN documented proof of that yet but look? I figure. And this is just my personal take on it. I figure that swallowing your words, is the same as chewing your bubblegum. Even someone else's. It makes your brain think that you're eating and then your brain fills your stomach with non-existent food. Uhhhh, is...is your stomach hurting right now? No? Oh...oh, you're just laughing at me! My facial expression remains unchanged as I give you a minute to compose yourself ............................................................, 60 dots equals one minute! Okay, continuing...!

And non existent food is actually just oxygen. And oxygen is air. And wind is just angry air! Do you see the connection? Angry. Air. Wind? I have now, documented the proof! With logic and an unchanged facial expression!

Not to worry. You'll get it once you stop holding your stomach and stand up straight...and change your facial expression!

My work here is done!
Sent via my BlackBerry from Vodacom - let your email find you!

An Uneducated Decision!

Just sitting here…thinking.  Oh!  I see you!  Covering your face like, “I can’t watch!  She’s over there thinking AGAIN!”  HARDY-HAH-HA!  Come-on now, you know my thoughts, enlighten, brighten and ensighten!  Hahahahahaha, even I had to laugh at that one. 

The sight that almost nudged me right off my chair today is the fact that our president is in the midst of purchasing a 300-seater 777 Boeing aircraft.  Holllllllllllllld it!  That would not be correct!  We are in the midst of purchasing a 300-seater 777 Boeing aircraft for our president.  Awwwwwww.  Just!  Awwwwwwwwwwwwww man!  What generous citizens we are!  Some of us don’t have clean water or food, but look at that?!?!  The sacrifices we make for those who make the rules.  It’s just so stirring to the emotions.  I’m just so emotional.  I don’t know about you, but my emotions are so stirred right now, I feel like I’m mixing chilli in my guts!  Yeahhhhhhhhh!  Notttttt such a good thing!

Let us hold hands and bow our heads in shame.  And while you’re assuming the position?  It would be a good idea to pray, shamefully, for your salvation since you have money to buy the president an aircraft after you just told your children that you may not have funds to send them to college.  Okaaaaay!  Shameful prayers out of the way….Now?  Let us sit in a circle, stand if you like…but really?  I would be kneeling if I were you!  Let us try to unravel and work through the many layers of “&?!$@ #&?!$ @#&? !$@#& ?!$@#!!!” that most of us are feeling.  Cursing is very effective but realize that it is only a short term measure of relief.  It’s not gonna change the fact that you’re buying the president a R2bn means of transportation yet you can barely afford petrol for your own vehicle.  Me?  I’m going to stop people from calling me by my birth name today.  I shall beg…”Call me, Shame!  I deserve it.  I limit tuck money to once a week for my kids and now look?  I suddenly have the funds to buy an airplane for somebody I have never met.”  

As we plod along the path of whythebloodyhellwouldhedothis?  We now reach the point of trying to make sense of things.  Can you see the blinking sign?  It says, “Trying to make sense of things!”  At least we’re not lost.  

Would that be a necessary purchase?  On a scale of one to…oooooh, I dunno?  Limits appear non-existent.  Just on a scale!!!?  It doesn’t even have to work.  On a broken scale!  How necessary is this purchase?  Why try so hard to give off that you care for your people when all you really care about is comfort and a seat for each of your wives and children on a family outing?  Us that are buying the plane, have to sit on laps and avoid the police at all costs!  Bent necks, bodies wound up tighter than a pigs tail!  “The police!  Duck!”  Others, (cause we’re all in this boiling pot of chilli together), others that are buying the plane, have to carry children on their backs, while they try to balance a bucket of water from that dirty river five kilometers down the road.  Is it that important to park a 300-seater aircraft in your garage when you know that half the nation is out of work, starving and unable to learn in school!  I mean?  There is a police station in Port Shepstone?  The police are working out of their cars as we speak because the government “forgot” to renew the lease of agreement for the building they’re using.  Whaaaaaaaaaat????????

My dad was mad as shit this morning.  “That’s why there’s so much depression in this country!  You turn on the news, badddd!  Read the paper, baddddd!  News is just baddddddd!  Everywhere you turn, someone is doing something, badddddd!”  

Someboddddddy please explainnnnnn!!!!!!!  I’m dying of curiosity here.  And I’m not even a cat!  Do the powers that be watch the news?  They do?  Have you actually, physically seen them watch the news?  Then let’s not assume until we know for sure.  This morning’s news told us that one of the schools, in Limpopo I believe, just received two measly boxes of workbooks.  Meanwhile?  It’s almost July.  The students finished write mid-year exams.

On what?  Ay, your guess is as good as mine.  Maybe P.E.  You don’t need books to study Physical Education.  You just run and…stretch.  Or play soccer.  All that matters is that you’re being physical!  Your report will read; 

A-Ran well! 

A-Kicked ball! 

A-Walked…back to class. 

PASS!

There are 1,300 students at that school.  Two boxes.  Normal boxes.  Nothing gigantic about the boxes I saw.  They looked a little higher in size than the one’s I keep my black knee high boots in.  And I have to fold those!  When I say normal boxes, I mean regular boxes.  You wouldn’t even use those sized boxes when you’re moving house.  You won’t even fit one comforter in the box!  1,300 students.  300-seater aircraft.  R2bn.  I’m either very perceptive or totally off track when I say…there’s a tiny margin of imbalance here. 

Do you see it? 

And this link here?  Will show you how it’s deemed to be so “unfortunate” that the kids didn’t receive textbooks for the first six months of the year!

http://www.timeslive.co.za/politics/2012/06/28/anc-says-textbook-situation-unfortunate-report

   

I can think of sohhhhh many other, ‘unfortunate’ things right about now!

Scientific Fact? Or Thought?

This can’t be right!  I’ve just read that your eyes stay the same size as at birth but your nose and ears keep growing.  My first reaction was, “Even Mr. Bean?”  Have you seen the size of Mr. Beans eyes?  Visualize with me.  Please?  As scary as that might be!  I really can’t handle this vision on my own.  See in your mind's eye as I see in mine…those sized eyes on a little baby’s face?  Are you seeing too, the fact that peek-a-boo must have been a verrrrrrrry different game in that household!?  Sheeeeeeesh! 

I have a teeeeeeeeeny tiny request.  In the name of science.  For real.  For science.  Not my personal amusement.  I’m not even snickering.  Heh-heh-heh!  If someone has a newborn baby, please could you just….measure their eyes for me.  And then be so kind as to record it.  Even annually, is okay.  I don’t want it to become a menial task, like, “So tired of this routine.  I have to cook, clean, measure his eyes, do homework, make sure he gets to sleep on time.  Everrrry night is the same thing!”  I wouldn’t do that to you.  Once a year will be more than enough.  Continue until your baby is twenty one years old.  I, for one, need to know whether there is any truth in this statement.  We can’t believe everything we see.  Only Mr. Bean can.  ‘Cause…he has width in his vision.  He gets to see the bigger picture!  From birth, apparently!

It’s a glorious day out and I’m stuck in here with sore gums.  As you can imagine, it’s causing rather contrasting feelings.  Deeeeep within me.  If you were my large intestines, you would be able to feel my feelings.  Being a Libra, I’m very uncomfortable with having to feel two things at once, and then forced to decide which one I’m going to go with.  Decisions are not entertaining for Librans.  It makes us feel like we have a choice to make.

Like right now, I have my scale out.  Weighing the fact that I’m happy to see the sun.  I’m like, wavvvve, “Hey, sun!  Happy to see you!”  We’ve made our peace since the whole melting chocolate saga but my gums?  Babies are soooh fortunate.  They get their gums massaged and teejel and all of that.  Unless they get E.Coli from their parents not washing their hands first.  Then they’re not so fortunate.  But me?  I have to make a decision between happiness and pain.    

I did this to myself but.  I’m to blame one hundred percent.  I thought I was clever and now?  I’m paying through my gums for it!   Hey, do you remember that sarcastic joke?  Hmmmmmm?  I don’t really know if it can be termed a joke or a sarcastic ?  A sarcastic?  Woahhhhh!  I just went completely blank……………………………………………………….

Sohhhhhh?  This is what a clean page feels like?  Just, empty and white.  In my case, just, empty and Coloured!  If I had to introduce myself right now, it would not be at all flattering, “Hi, I’m Stacey.  I’m an empty Coloured with aching gums!”

When we were kids, we couldn’t wait for someone to say they thought something and the result of that thought was just a complete mess!  The first thing out of our mouths was,  “You know what thought did?  He planted a feather and thought a chicken would grow!”   Yesterday?  She bought murku and thought her gums wouldn’t hurt!

Ouch… 

Never too Busy...

Sorry I'm late. I'm normally the most punctual person in the room. But the world, keeps getting in the way. That's a song by Neyo! Talks about how he and his love can't seem to get together because something or the other keeps cropping up. Poor things.

Life does get hectic sometimes, doesn't it? Even when you're doing nothing? You're doing something. It's for that exact reason that you get yelled at by your wife for laying on the couch and doing nothing. It's because you're doing something you shouldn't be doing when the gutters around the house still need to be repaired! Awww, don't mention it. I'm always happy to help clear up confusion by sharing my views on why things you've always wondered about, happen.

But on a serious note, it never should get sohhhhh busy where it results in neglecting the people that you love. Dependent on who they are or who they are not? You might quickly turn around and find nobody there. Nothing but oxygen and furniture! Honestly? I didn't know what I would write about today, and this was the last thing I didn't know it would be. But it came to mind, and now I've simply let it flow freely out of the rivers of my thoughts....into yours.

I can bet that more than a few of you are checking yourselves right now. "Am I being a neglective partner ?" (OH! Come-onnnnnn! It's a worrrrrrd! This dictionary knows nothing! Neglective describes a person who neglects. I'm only explaining myself in brackets like this because as I'm typing, the word 'neglective' has that red squiggly underlining!) To hell with it, I'm adding it to my dictionary. Some things just don't deserve the red squiggly lines! That's like a big fat red cross on your test page! Which some of us deserve and some of us like, neglective, don't. You know what? I'm sure if we look hard enough, someone in South Africa's name actually IS, Neglective!

And you there…you're quite nervous right now, aren't you? "*&^% !! Is this a couch I'm lying on? Damn Rambler! She doesn't know when to keep her fingers shut!" Hehehe, nohhhhhhhh! I do not!

It's like I have x-ray vision today. The scene's are just coming at me…like I'm watching an episode of "Guilty!" It's a new series. Future new! Not yet aired or thought of, new. But I know it will be because my vision is that deep. I can see what you're thinking tomorrow. But right now, I see some of you sweating bullets, feverishly looking around, with just your eyes…thank goodness, I'd be feeling left out if you could see with anything else, but you're shifting them…from left to right, up and down (why? I really can't tell you unless your significant other is sitting on your head or hanging from the ceiling), holding your position so that the couch doesn't squeak…just because you're trying to hear whether hers or his footsteps are still somewhere in the house. Relax. Reeelax! Okay, on second thought? Get up and go and do a quick head count in the house! Pets and all! Quick! Even food! They might have taken the food with them and just left you with a tin of tuna! Oh, and act natural! Wide eyed, bewildered looks are gonna give you away!

.............................................Everybody still there? Okay, fantastic! That means that you're doing what you're meant to be doing. Prioritizing! And making sure that the people who hold your heart, know that they do! For those of you who are hugging a tin of tuna right now? Neyo and company? You'll never take a loaf of bread for granted again, will you?

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Reality Confuses Me…

A huge birthday wish to Leigh who celebrates her twenty-second birthday today!  That’s my niece, by the way.  I’m only wishing her here on my blog because she is an avid follower of Rambling At Random.  If she wasn’t, I woulda just sent her a bbm and left it at that.  Just words, just happy birthday, no smiley faces or nothing.  Haaaaaaahahahaha!  Just kidding, I wouldn’t have even sent her a bbm!  LMAO!!!  I’m joking…..just joking!!!  She told me this morning that I should grow old gracefully and embrace my hips.  I shall leave the embracing of my hips to Geese!  His arms are long!  But what I will do!  Is check back with her in eighteen years to see whether she has maintained her optimistic stance on ageing body parts.  Those that have drooped, expanded or shrunk into non-existence!  “Where did my breasts go!”  It happens to the best of us.  “They fell into your midsection and distributed themselves evenly around your waistline!” 

Thankfully we have photoshop!  And doctors to correct those very slight imperfections now!  But, urrrgh, they want money to do it.  Always a catch.  Nothing can just happen without there being an ulterior motive!  It’s like, gone are the days when doctors, I mean, people help people without wanting something in return.  The seven years they studied doesn’t over-ride a giving heart.  Does it?  Gimme a second….Mm-HMM!  Okay, I did a quick survey, in my mind, and the yes:no ratio was 87,79:12,21 so, yes it does, and it should, because shame, they do have to deal with crying and blood and ewwwww!  I wouldn’t give shit away for free if I had to deal with ewwwww on a daily basis! 

But the point I was trying to make?  You have to forgive me.  Please?  You should have forgiven me in advance by my second post ‘cause I sometimes get sidetracked on my way to my point.  I have now reached it, in one piece.  That’s if all the doctors aren’t on their way to ewwwww me up!  Lemme be quick, just in case!  Butasifthereisn’tenoughdivideinsociety….nnnnnnnnnnnnnn!  They can’t do it.  My fingers are getting breathless because they’re trying to hurry…just in case.  I reassured them.  “Just go at your own pace.  If we’re gonna be hurt for the truth then at least we went down fighting, you know?”  They understood where I was coming from, hence the spaces between the words now.

But as if there isn’t enough divide in society?  Now we get to dissect the rich from the poor.  You’re saying that that has always existed.  I hear you.  I have ears.  And I agree!  But?!  It goes deeper than that because now we get to subdivide it even further!  We’re talking about rich people whose breasts fell into their waistline and poor people whose breasts fell into their waistline!  Ofcourse, for the rich, that is never a problem.  They can get new ones and just get the old, misplaced one’s cut out and tossed aside!  On that silver thing that the doctors toss our organs onto when they take them out.  But for the poor to average person?  They’ll never see their breasts again.  Unless Robin Hood is reading my blog!

It’s amazing though, whenever I have come across Dr. 90210 on TV?  Every Tom, Dick and Sally is having something done.  Does he do it for free?  Does he have affordable rates, or?  Is it cut me, cut my sister for free?  I seriously want to know because people are just going for it and I don’t know how they are affording it!  That frustrates me.  Because it sends me the wrong message.  It tells me that the woman on the street can walk into Dr. 90210’s offices and have him draw circles on her ass and stomach and love handles with a permanent marker, and then come out the next day all bruised and looking like WherethehellhaveIbeen-ish!  If it’s going to be called, reality tv, then let’s be real….you all know that one has to take out another mortgage just to pay for a bridge to be inserted between your teeth, these days?  Reshaping your body?!!!  That’s gotta hurt…your pocket!  But these people are delighted, after the surgery.  Black, blue and swollen to the ninety-nines!  And just….thrilled to be!  

None of them seem as if they just paid thousands and thousands and thousands and 99 cents, for surgery?  I’m confused.  O_o!  

Chocolate Chip Rubble

Ay! O_o! The chocolate chip cookies?! Just to be clear in my intentions? I do recall saying that I'm gonna tryyyyyyyyyyyyy to make cookies, right? So okay, now that we're all on the same page! When you say try, it leaves the door widddde open for either being successful or never baking again in your life! Jussssss thought I'd lay that solid foundation of justification before I tell you what's going on in my oven right now. I'm sitting, facing towards my kitchen window in an attempt to not even make eye contact with the epic failure that are my cookies! Or should I say, the cookie! All my blobs of mixture? Have now combined to form one giant square cookie! I'm kinda thinking that cookie might be overstating whatever that thing is. It looks like a...thin cake! A cake that hasn't done what it's supposed to do! And I've now knifed it and it's not even hard! O_O!

But in my defense? And I have one...just gimme a few minutes....hummmmmmm? It's coming to me! Very slowwwwwly! Feels like it's gonna be a grand defense too! Visions of grandeur, like my cookies were meant to be! Ooh-ooh-ooh! Got it! I'm a regional administrator! And they don't bake for a living. They calculate things!

Yessssss! Yes! I'm blogging while baking, I'm blaking! Badly! So by the time you read this, it would seem as if I'm blaking at 9pm or something but, no. This is my future post about my past failure!

So the first batch? Got a bit possessive! Like fatal attraction. Point blank refussssed to release its grip on the tray! Tyler was like, "Let's give it two minutes to get over itself!". Haaaaaaahahhahaaha! We did that! IT, didn't! Took me back in time, to the old flat! When we were removing the marley tiles before we installed ceramic tiles. So picture that square, flat metal thing, being dug under the marley tiles to lift them! That's how we got the first batch out! Sadly? The second batch too! Except the marley tiles didn't crumb into a million different little pieces and waste an entire slab of whole nut chocolate! That's the actual crime in all of this! Now? Picture the rubble after a natural disaster! That's what my chocolate chip cookies looked like! They really should be ashamed of themselves!

I named this batch. A failure of such paramount proportions deserves to have a name! Paramount things always have a name. I know that from hurricanes! And I'm giving like that, so I gave it a name! Randyl came into the kitchen and asked, "What is this?!?" Lindsie was bent over laughing! I said, "That?! Is 'After the Earthquake'!" So, if anyone is planning a themed party to that effect? I'm your girl for the cookies! I loved the way Tyler forced the rubble down Randyl and Lindsie's throats! That was just genius! She was like, "Your'll wanted the cookies! Now eat this! Have some water! There you go! Now eat some more!"
If anyone needs a "Force bad baking results down people's throats", Tyler's your girl for that! So, if anyone is planning a themed party to THAT effect? Tyler Tyler Tyler!

The third and last batch! I just took everydamnthing that was left in the bowl? And emptied it into the tray and let it do whatever it wanted! Some of it baked, some of it didn't, I didn't care anymore. Wasn't listening to me anyway! You can only talk to cookie mixture so many times before you give up! Whether or not it chooses to use what you've taught it when it's out there in the oven? That's on IT! You can only trust thereafter, that you did enough!

MannnnnN, I pictured this ending so, sohhhhh differently! I had such high hopes! It was the recipe's fault! It said if I followed instructions, I'd end up eating what was in the picture! And I believed it! Like a gullible fool! Okay, it said put a teaspoon of mixture, not a heaped half a tablespoon, but still! I followed the measurements in the mixture to the T! Least I wasn't like Randyl, who, if the recipe calls for three eggs and she only has one, she's like (Shrugs shoulders), "Hey! One's good enough!"
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