...And Off She Goes

Going, Going...

Last night was the FAREWELL farewell! Sob….She's leaving Durban just now before she goes home to pack and jet off to her new home, away from home. Dubai? You're not my favourite word at this moment, you sister stealer, you!

Meanwhile? My beloved sister has had about nine farewells by now, if you count the ones in Johannesburg. Lovable soul that she is.

But yeah….last night about thirty of our family members STORMED THE BASTILLE! That's what, I'm almost certain, the waiters thought! I could be wrong. But im not. Well? It was a restaurant. We stormed the Ocean Basket. Now I know? You see the name Ocean Basket and immediately you have visions of baby Moses drifting along a river, don't you? Not me. I used to imagine the tiny rolls they brought out before the meal. You know. The free one's. And the chilli paste and that mayonnaise mixture and the garlic. M-m! Now, however? I shall forever be reminded of Lynn's farewell and the fact that she asked Inky to send all the pics he took at dinner, to her Wuzupp! LMAO! She meant, whatsapp. With her, one has to read between the letters. While laughing 'til your cheeks hurt! Just-----just forgive her. She knows not what she says.

And like many senile elders? The waiters weren't old. But?!? Those energetic, youngsters, got a little taste of the effects that ageing sometimes has on our previous generation. I can bet both my thunder thighs that after a while, they were asking themselves, "Am I Arthur or Marthur." I don't know how that turned out. I should've asked before I left. Like, "All the Arthurs in this line and all the Marthur's in that one. Thank you, now I can tell my blog readers what the Arthur:Marthur ratio was." That's why its so important to carry your ID. But even still. Last night, not even an ID could save them.

But you know what? I'm just glad that for once in our collective gathering? People have shown that they have the ability to accept us. We didn't hear, "You are never to set foot on these premises again." Not once! By the way, that's very hurtful, other places that barred us! We will make it our duty never to return to your establishments. Not that we have a choice. But still. It's the principle of it. We won't, even when the ban period has ended. To date, we haven't had any correspondence to that effect from any of them, so at this point, a ban period, is purely an assumption. They're clearly not risk takers! That's no way to run ya business!

So thank you, Ocean Basket! At least you know that we were just born this way. Plus?! Plus?! Bonus! We weren't approached by police officers, just for talking. Too loud. Not once! They even let us re-arrange the seating. Twice! Eric and his team were on their best behaviour. Someone had to be. Lynn was refusing to leave because she thought it was 10pm when it was 11.30pm. Ali was arranging chairs outside for the elders for a group photo that wasn't taken. Then she sees light in the atm booth and suggests we move the shoot location to inside there. Zhar and Mish learnt what, "whatsabought" meant via my mum who was quietly, (but I heard), telling them that she doesn't know what she would do if I ever moved to America! And one of the many reasons why? Because when we were little, they brought us whatsabought and now? I bring them whatsabought. She obviously really likes whatsabought. A lot. We did too. We would run home when we saw my dad car pull up. We obviously liked whatsabought too. A lot.

What?! O_o

It's whatsabought. You knowwwwwww man!? Whatsabought. When ya dad or mum brings you goodies on a Friday. Like chocolates and crisps and soda and stuff. You don't know? Okay. I'm here to educate. Don't mention it. It's quite a sweet memory, actually. Whatsabought? You listening? Okay! Is short for "What you bought." Annnnnnnnnnnnd? There you go.

It doesn't end here….The storming of the airport hasn't happened yet!
Sent via my BlackBerry from Vodacom - let your email find you!

The Time Has Come

I’m not even gonna lie.  It’s kinda tough to concentrate today. 

Up to a certain point?  I don’t have any recollection of my childhood.  I know, with absolute certainty, that I was a premature baby, a very cute one by the way.  No-no!  No-no.  It’s got absolutely nothing to do with vanity.  I’ve seen the pictures!  ;-)  Then I was a toddler, then I grew a bit more, then I know what I’ve been told.  And thennnnnnnn?!?!?  I remember…eating Pronutro cereal at nursery school and falling off a swing on my way home and hiding behind our avocado pear tree when I didn’t want to go.  Before that?  I got nothing.

I’ve met some people who remember things that happened when they were two.  My first reaction when I hear them?  “Liar!!!”  In my head, though.  Not with my mouth.  Oh nohhhhhhh!  Call me a coward, call me what you like.  I just don’t see the point of instigating an altercation over a suspicion.  Some, you just have to keep to yourself.  This is not CSI Durban.  Chances are, they probably weren’t lying.  I mean?  Life is so full of things to do, who has time to make up stories about their life as a toddler?  I probably just have a bad memory and didn’t wanna admit it. 

When I was younger?  I’m talking about after my years of a blank existence but old enough only to watch my sister and cousins getting ready to go to wherever it was that they were going to…we’ve all been there, right.  Until the gap eventually closes, and then its all for one and one for all.  Possibly packed in one car too. 

But I’d lay there…she’s just so beautiful.  That’s all I would think, watching her.  Back then, alot of that had to do with what I saw, but then as you get older?  And you begin to understand that beauty is a lot deeper than skin, shape or size.  When it becomes more about an inward state than it is an outward appearance?  Ones deciding factors begin to vary.  And so did mine.  Only, I still have that very same thought.  Just for additional reasons. 

Tomorrow, we will all get together, firstly to bury my grans ashes, and then to have a farewell for my sister before she leaves for Dubai.  Celebrate.

-_-

L

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Sob!

Sniff!  Celebrations are meant for happy occasions, aren’t they?  Both of tomorrows occasions will be anything but that so I don’t really…It’s like…sighhhhhhh?  I don’t know what to call whatever it is that we’re going to be doing!  If I rationalize it? 

Varied good-byes 

That’s what they are.  That’s what we’ll be, “celebrating.”  

Despite all of this, I have no doubt that we will have fun tomorrow.  When she’s around, there rarely is a dull moment.  Or syllable.  

I just wish so hard that it was for a reason, other than this.

When One Door Closes…

There’s an old saying, “Everything happens for a reason…”  That’s one I definitely believe in.   There's another old saying, "When one door closes, another one opens."  That’s definitely something that would irritate the shit outa me if I happened to be sweeping at the time! 

But?  Domestic chores aside.….How do you handle failure?  I’m calling it failure because every time something doesn’t pan out for us, we either look at ourselves as failures, or we look at the other person, or thing, as being something that has failed us.    

It’s human nature though, isnt it?  To be angry or at the very least, disappointed, when things turn out differently than what we’d expected.  Hell!  There was a time in my life when I’d stare into the face of that closed door and b!tch and moan about things not working out the way that I wanted them to, but ay? 

Not anymore! 

At my age, the best thing I could have done was realize that doors could care less about whether you’re giving them death stares or begging them to answer your constant whining about, “Why me?!?!?”  They can’t talk.  They might be able to think.  I dunno?  I’m not a door and I don’t know anybody who ever was, so I can’t confirm that.  But!?!?  Regardless of your wants, wishes or woes, they will stand there, tightly hinged to that door frame, staring right back at you, with what appears to be thoughts of, “There she goes again with the why me, why me?!?!  Does this idiot not know that I don’t have a mouth!” 

My personal journey into the new and wonderful world of “dust it off and keep moving” per-say, took a while but once I decided to let go of some of the issues in my life that were either well on their way to rotting my personality, or just beginning to?  All I’ve been feeling is a positivity that I can barely explain.  I have not felt this way in forevvvvvvvvver!   Not even on my best day.  Hmmmmmmmmmmm….Maybe once.  When my mum told me that eventually a stranger did stop on the freeway to give them a ride to the hospital when she was about to give birth to me!  That alone gave me hope in mankind!  I just know that where I am right now, is where I’ve always wanted to be.  One word sums it all up.  Finally!  And none of it would be possible, if it hadn’t been for change! 

So yeah!  This is where I’m currently at.  Guess, what I’m trying to say is…don’t kick change when you’re down. 

You know what I’ve also noticed?  Relationship ends are the one thing, it seems, that cause people to have the most regret.  I’m sure  because so much of ourselves are invested in them, it’s tough not to feel that way.  I’d mentioned, in the beginning of this post, “Everything happens for a reason.”  To me, it’s as simple as that.  The more I think about it, the more I’m finding that things are just being made to be more complicated than they are or need to be.  I’ve been married, I’ve been divorced, I’ve been in a relationship, I’ve been single.  As far as all of those?  I no longer regret the start, I don’t regret the middle, and I won’t regret the end.  I will rejoice in my growth. 

The fact of the matter is that nothing will ever alter this…in the end, what is meant to be, will be.  Sometimes, it takes being apart to realize that you shouldn’t be together.  Other times, it takes you being together, to realize that you should be apart.  That’s it, that’s all.  Nothing more to see here, people! 

And yet, I continue typing. 

For a while now?  My relationship with my ex-husband, has been the best it’s ever been.  After we got divorced.  What that means to me?  When relationships don’t work out, it hardly means that one or both of you are dreadful people.  It doesn’t even have to be made to sound that way either.  All that does, is give power to the negative notions over all of the positive memories.  And all that does, is then turn those memories, into a lie.  I’m not interested in living my life that way, anymore!  With the world what it is, today?  It makes little to no sense to choose to turn good things into bad things, when there’s already too much bad for us to put up with. 

I’m grateful for my experiences, because they truly were experiences!  Experiences that when I sit and reflect?  Have taught me a whole lot about an array of different things.  All of them, and those still to come have no doubt prepared me for my past future and will surely prepare me for my future future, respectively.  Not all stories have a positive ending.  But then, that all depends on how you look at it.

The Early Bird…Sits and Waits

I haven't been ignoring you!  Ya beloved Rambler's been writing her fingers off!  You should be proud, so, smile!  :-)  Theeeeeeere ya go!  I'm still here.  And guess what?!?  I've been making alota progress.  Not much sleep but sleep in exchange for progress is a good trade!  Right?!

Friday?  I was given a deadline.
Monday.
Yesterday?  I worked to my own deadline.
Saturday night.
Today?  I feel dead, you know like that line?  Peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep! Flatlined! Yeah!  Yeah!!  That's it!  That's the one!

So, basically, after writing all the way up to 1am, I literally started falling asleep on the keyboard!  On this key...//////////

-_-

Ay, don't be asking me tough questions when I'm sitting here flatlined?!?  I dunno why that one in particular, I just know, I had to delete them twooooo many times.  My English teacher's punching her fist in the air right now, like, "Yessss!!!  She remembers what a pun is!"  Miss Canada, I'm talking 'bout!  She would be happy!  SHE knew what a pun was!  And do you know why?

Because typing that?  I just remembered that in grade 11?  You know when we had to write those letters to a television station or some place where we haven't sent one into since we learnt how!  As if they didn’t know we’d have email by now.  Or Whatsapp!  My subject was?!?  TWO Many Advertisements!  My other “English” teacher, Mrs. No-Idea-What-A-Pun-Is?!?  Underlined TWO and marked it WRONG!  I feel victimised, I telya!  For when I was in Grade 11!  O_o!  I do. 

Better late than never!

Where was I?!?
Oh yeah!
So I made sure to finish off in the midst of deleting those stroke thingies and passing out rather quickly after that.  I woke at 3.47am. Tirrrrrrred...and afraid.
Not of the boogy-man!  Come on now, we all know those only exist when you're little and you're being tricked into sitting ya ass down, by a cruel adult!  Yes!  It's cruel!  Yes, it is!  'Cause one minute y'all tell us there's a boogyman in that other room and the next minute?

Wait for it!................................................................................................................................

We're being SENT into that boggy-man laden room to fetch a scissors or a pillow or something!  And then we're standing there looking all crazy, trembling-lipped, like, "What if the boogyman catches me?!?"  All and nervous and shit?  Then!!!  Then y'all still add a promise of a spanking, if we don't agree to walk boldly into boogy-man land!

Ofcourse, it's cruel!  Okay-okay?!?  In all Libran fairness!  What IS cruel?  If that's NOT cruel?!?!  I know…JZ’s still our president.  But see?  You can tell exactly whose done this to their kids!  Over there feverishly searching for good debate swing on why it infact, isn't as cruel as I just said it was.

Give
It
Up

You should be going to kiss your little one, even if they're forty-five years old, and apologising for the deep-seeded fear they now have of the unknown!  And any place with no light!

It's never happened to me.
I'm just sayin'...it happens!
I'm up, early.  So, I'm just fighting for the cause!  That's how much fight I have in me! Enough to share some fight on behalf of victims of the boogy-man trick, everywhere!

You're welcome!

DammmiT!  Where the hell was I?!?
Ima have to check!  Gimme onnnnnne second.  There we go.

Tirrrrrrred...and afraid.
No.  I was afraid of my hearing...or lack thereof!  Sometimes when you're tired, and knocked the f&$% out, you can't hear, you know.  So, at 3.47am?  I laid in the bed.  And laid in the bed.  And laid.  In. The. Bed.  Until I said, "You know what?!?  @+#! this! Ima get outa this bed!"  So, I laid in the bed.   And laid in the bed...until I finally carried out my threat.

The good news is?  I did hear the alarm!  'Cause I was up.  So my plan worked.

By 5am I was in the shower and ready to go meet the team at 8.45am.  :-/   Now, it's just passed 7.30am and I'm sitting here, constantly blinking, having lost out on sleep, talking to you...all dressed up and nowhere to go.  Yet.

Eh, it sounded better in my head.

Music and My…Opinion

Hmmmmmmpf!  It's finally quiet around these suburban parts, I see!  :-/ 

Last night, on the other hand?  Every nook and cranny inside my little Coloured head was being relentlessly pounded by house music.  Believe you me when I say, there was only space left in there for three words, "Kill.  Me.  Now." 

You kinda know me, don't you?  We've spent a considerable amount of time together as Rambler and reader, right?  So you kinnnnnda know that music is a colossal part of my existence, but dammmmmmmn!  That deep house music is enough to drive me drink neat paraffin!  Especially when I can't understand a word that the artist is saying. 

Look?  Don't all rush at me at once, I know some of you live and breathe house music and I have all the respect in the world for artists of any kind.  Plus I never said I don't like Micasa.  That's cool house.  HoweVer?  If I am forced to, I will!  I have no problem getting all Biblical up on this blizzog!  Because God did say share...my opinion.  That's where, and share alike, stems from.  He didn't mean only sweets.  And share alike means, share your sweets, your good fortune, your jacket, your opinion.  All of it…Ya feel me?

Here's the thing.  Music for me, is a four-fold experience.   The melody, the lyrics, the emotions and the vision.  You take any one of those away?  And you lose my attention.  Period.  When I hear a song, and all I see is black barrenness in my minds abyss?  Then what's the difference between that and me just being asleep?  Music is meant to feed your soul.  It's meant to inspire you.  It’s meant translate from it's melodic form, in through your ears, seep into your mind, trapse and saunter around in your mind, into a story only your eyes can see.

Lemme ask you this?  What vision do you get from a beat that is just constant for twenty, if not more, minutes, like a brainwashing beat or something?  And then the lyrics sound like, "hfd wsosecelwox gjs aaofgfgfjaloooooo"  To me?  In my opinion.  God said I must share it, don't forget!  That's not music.  That's a tranquilizer!  That's what you use to torture prisoners of war!  In Taken 3, I think they should incorporate this, when he catches one of the bad guys.  He should tie them up and put earphones on them, hit play on the house music folder and leave them in that underground room…there’s always one of those, and then you watch.  When he comes back hours later, he wont need to lift a finger. 

So?  Amongst the other weird and wonderful things I did yesterday?  My heart was set on getting as much writing done as I could.  And I did, get alot done.  I just wasn't quite finished.  It was quiet, I was home alone, you know?  The setting was flawless.  Until the sun went down and something told my neighbour that we all wanted a piece of his party.  It was at that point that I was then forced to huff and puff and shut my laptop down. 

The thought of going out and purchasing a bow and arrow?  As anti-violence as I am?  I'm not afraid to admit, it had crossed my mind more than once but they started too late.  The stores were closed!  I coulda been in here, my bbm status set to "No calls: Stakeout in Progress.  Mission: Snipe a Speaker", peeping through my lounge window, with my lights off, after putting together the best sniper outfit I could from what I had in my closet, aiming at the speaker if I couldn't....the one song had machine gun and typewriter sounds in it, by the way...o_O...if I couldn't get a clear shot of the power cable!  Shut that muthafucker down!  I saw the smoke.  From the barbecue!  Nobody said, “Come over for some chicken since we're frying your brains with this music.”  Which means I was invited for a headache only. 

Low.

Down.

Dirty.

Shame!

Worst still is that this neighbour is a few metres from my bedroom window.  I thought of just throwing things at them?  I have a box of colourful straws in my kitchen cupboard!  Too light?  Yeah, I figured that too.  And I wasnt about to use up my kitchen utensils and then have us eating dinner with our hands until payday.  Hmmmmmmm?  That bow and arrow woulda been perfect. 

I'm thinking that they mighta gotten bow and arrowed before which is why they knew to start their house party only once it wouldn't be possible for anyone to run out and pick up a set.  That's some sneaky shit right there, doncha think?!?  I shoulda called the police!   No...noooooh, they wouldn't have pitched.  And if they did, they might've offered them barbecued meat as a means to bribe them into letting out who exactly the call came from.  HahahahahahAHAHAHAHAHHAHA, you know what that reminded me of?  The last company I worked for?  We would have karaoke sometimes, right?  On one of the karaoke nights?  One of the residents called the cops for us.  I see the police come in.  We all did, they had guns.  Not aiming at us, but none of us had guns, so we recognized the fact that they weren’t one of ours.   Bree, a crazy friend of mine?  Next thing I look?  And I don’t know how she did it?  But I look again and she has the cop singing karaoke with her, hahahahahahhahahahaha!  

Last night though?  By the time I couldn't hear the movie I'd succumbed to watching, I was at a complete loss.  I considered going out there and yelling at them but then something said, "Rambler?  They might just turn around and start shooting your ass with a bow and arrow.  Then what?!?"  

Reflections of a Roarrrrring Rambler

It's normally around this time of year that I remember, "Hey Rambler?  You're almost another year older."  Alllmost! 

I was reflecting last night, and by that I mean I updated my Facebook status.  Statuses are the new reflections, didn't you hear?  If you're my sister, then uhmmmmm, no.  But if you're me?  Over the last coupla days, I've been thinking.  I do that sometimes, believe it or not.  Doesn't even hurt.  I'm not Malema.

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!  Wait!  Hold on a second...I have to dance with my upper body.  R Kelly just started playing, haven't heard this song in yearrrrrs...."Hands in the aiiiiuuur, drinks everywheuuure....Party on th..."

O_O!!!  What the f...!?!?

Okay.  Well that's over.  :-\  Thank you Wendy. 

She just turned it off to listen to people answering questions on the radio.  Just 'cause its her car!  I dunno 'bout you?  But for me?  There's just no excuse for that kinda insolence.  Tomorrow, I'm gonna play MU WET's "Call me Hata" and just when her face brightens up or she starts singing?  I'm not even gonna be watching the road.  To hell with that!  The road will be her face, where I shall be searching for the moment where she's expresses peak enjoyment!  Then?!?  Ima turn it off and start singing...without a backing track. 

And now?  Back to what I was saying before I was curtly demotionalised.  Yes!  This has just been a surprisingly amazing year in the life of me.  Like if I was a movie, it would be called, "A Surprisingly Amazing Year in the Life of Me."  If you were watching me, the movie, right now?  You'd get to see me experiencing some pretty epic stuff!  Dude.  O_o!  It-it just seemed like something that had to follow the word epic.  (Shrug)

You'd get to watch me experience things, allllllll the way from forming new and lasting friendships,  embracing myself again, losing old love, forgiving past hurts, realising the strength of bonds, understanding destiny, restoring my faith in the kindness of strangers...Oh yeah, I've seen it all this year!  And I would not change a thing!  To put it mildly?  It's just been an extraordinary year.  So much so that I don't wanna turn forty-one! 

No, I mean I reallllllly don't wanna turn forty-one.  Pleassssssssssssse don't make me turn forty-one!!!!  'Cause see?  If I turn forty-one then I won't be forty anymore and if I'm not forty anymore then I'll be forty-something, one in this case, and you know you're on the road to fifty by then, tryna run backwards like a rabied, salivating pitbull is chasing you but you can't 'cause all you can feel is that dreadful slow-motion-going-nowhere run that sometimes haunts ya dreams and causes you to ask, in your dream, "Am I dreaming?" but your question is only answered when the sandman or your cellphone is good and ready until you're finally awake, sweating bullets and thanking the heavens for your alarm!  Shewwwww.  Breathless-ness!

It's not bothering me at all, though.  Clearly, I've thought about it...some.  But it's not causing me annnnnny anxiety.  What.  So.  Evvvvvver!  >_<!!

You've had those dreams, haven’t you?  Where you need to run but something, could be your subconscious.  Or Freddy Kruger.  I really can't tell, I'm sleeping when I'm running in one spot.  Whatever it is?  It finds it hilarious to create a calamitous situation behind the blackness of your eyeballs, and then make it so that you can't get away from it fast enough!  Something like the way a lot of us felt when the ANC won the elections.  Strangely enough, whatever it is that you're running from?  It's not reaching you.  That's the kicker right there!  That dream is designed to simply scare the living crap outa you and nothing more.  Hmmmmmmmm?  I wonder if Olympic athletes have those dreams?  You think?  I'm just tryna figure out how it would feel to have won medal after medal for running but then come time to run from a five-legged monster with three compound eyes in a dream?  And you can't do shit.   

Right now?  I'm all up in time's face like, "Time, you relentless intangible you...STOPPPP!!!!  I'm loving this year!  Be a dear and just drag it out a little longer!"  thinking that a large-scale compliment such as dear, would somehow benefit me, even in the smallest way.  It doesn't.  It snubs me and then mockingly shakes its faceless head while the minutes turn into weeks and before I know it?  October 11th is here!  Again!

Oh oh oh!!!  I know! I know!  If I just go and edit my date of birth on my FB account.  That'll teach......my age?  :-/  If it's on FB, it's official, right?!  Who needs Home Affairs?!?!  Why didn't I think of this when I found myself not starting to get bothered by it?  And while we’re on the subject…do you know?  My sister still hasn't accepted my friend request?  Months people, we're talking months!  These are the types of things that both creates and promotes sibling rivalry!  Ignoring friend requests!  #1 cause.  You ask any new-age psychologist and they’ll tell you the same thing.  Forget all of the “You’ve never supported me throughout our lives.  You broke the head off of my favourite doll.  Because you couldn’t behave, mom and dad had no time to notice my achievements…”  Pfffffffffffffffffffft…those?  Those are the pre-social network causes for rifts between siblings.  

I'm certain though, that she means no harm.  I'm even more certain that she doesn't know how to log on.  But?!?  She'd better find out soon 'cause she's less than a month away from being a Dubai-an. 

:-( 

Sad but true. 

She's leaving us to rot in the hands of a buncha brainless bastards and jetting off to the land of.....what is Dubai the land of?  Desert and massive March sales!  Yeah!  Annnnnnnnnd?  That's about as much thought as I can afford to put into it before I embarrass myself on my blog and start booooooooo-hoooooooo-ing.  Sob!  Sniff. 

Don’t worry.  

I’m-I’m okay…   

Spring of Dreams

Morning arose.

The sun, in all of it’s curiosity, peaked bashfully through the fading grey clouds.  It rained yesterday.  Wet rain.  Too obvious?  I don’t think so.  With the ozone layer being what it is?  It coulda been raining meteorites.  It's also Saturday.  Saturday morning.  (don’t interrupt me).  A common occurrence for once Friday has ended.  You'd never have guessed, right?  Right!  

That crisp, icy feeling filled the new dawn air, it's silence broken with sounds of, "Chirp, chirp!"  

That's bird language for, "Wake ya lazy human ass up!"  

I think?  

It's been a while since I've conversed with birds, so forgive me if that should've been translated to, "We've come to inform you peasants that Spring is on it's way!"

A-hem!  

Now that the scene is set?

What is your Spring resolution?  Best you hurry, Spring waits for no-one!  Sure, suuuure, unlike time, you'll get another Spring but let's pretend for a minute.  Pretend with ya Rambler, come onnnnnn.  I know you want to.  Pretend that this yourr Spring!  The Spring in which you sprout new dreams and water them like the dirty-nailed gardener I know you can be and then watch them bloom and flourish into beautiful, radiant sunflowers!  That's my personal favourite.  Something to do with my past flower-child life.  Peace!  You can substitute that with roses or whatever flower you like best.  But you can't use lettuce or bean sprouts, okay?  I’m being kind enough to allow substitutions here, but I’m in no way granting any persons permission to ruin my inspirational speech!  We’re certainly not trying to inspire leaf-eating insects.  So since I know not a soul that’s motivated by a fully grown vegetable, I would recommend that you stick to the script.  

See how compromising I am?  -_-  Uhmmmmmmm-M.

As for my resolution?  I'm about to pour all of my energy into my second book, The Switch. When I say all?  I mean what's left after school, kids, work, sports, household chores and gear changing!  I dunno about you, but mannnnnnnnn, could I use a break from driving! Have we not yet reached that part of the future where cars ARE our drivers?  Like where you get in, you don't even have to talk!  They're mind-reading cars so you just get in and they take you to where you're thinking about going.  Not heaven, though.  Let’s be realistic.  Hell?  Hmmmmmmmmmmmm…..that’s possible.  Think about driving straight to parliament.  That’ll get you there in a hurry.  Just?  I'm not confident that anyone will reach their jobs, though?  That's a cause for concern.  Not for me.  For your boss.  

I've been driving now for half my life.  It-it's just no longer fun.  Kinda like when my gynae told me, "You're not 21 anymore."

>_<!  That wasn't fun either.  He meant that in the nicest possible way.  I'm sure.  I know because he was smiling when he said it.  Snide mutha that he is!  He can't sue me for calling him names.  I didn't mention his.  I didn’t go to any gynae called Snide or Mutha.  And my English teacher always made sure to tell us that adjectives were an integral part of speech as well as writing.  Hey, all's fair in...in gynae and patient name calling!  He called me old!  He started!

My second reaction, after my lips pursed?  Was to blurt out, "I beg to differ!" in a deep British accent and then claim that the mere mention of my age was the cause for it.  If he asked.  I was even tryna come up with a syndrome name for it.  I failed.  I'm nowhere near originating from anywhere else but South Africa, but "I beg to differ" sounds so much more sophisticated when said that way.  Sadly though, reality hit and I quickly remembered that he hadn't examined me yet.

Now if you happen to be vagina-based?  Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahahahahahaha!!  That was bad.  However true, that was just, baddd.  Lemme try it again.  If you happen to be female?  Thaaaat's better.  Female.  Gender-uhmmm?-itically correct.  Yes!  If you're female, then ofcourse?  You are keenly aware that that part of the visit is uncomfortable enough even without having riled the gynae up with senseless arguments about how old you are versus how old you feel.

So, like any cautious vagina-based person would do?  I saved myself from probable trauma (should I have decided to execute the said argument) and guess what?  He then promptly, the short cystic diagnosing bastard, went on ahead and diagnosed me with PCOS and sent me on my merry way!  I feel like I was short-changed, somehow.  I held out on Plan British Accent whereas he held nothing back with the smile and-and the, you’re old now, and then picking on my ovaries.  As if reminding me that I'm no spring chicken, wasn't bad enough?!?  I'm not angry.  Plussss?!?  Plus!!!  You’re listening?  This wasn't even recently!  So he was calling me old when I was younger!  Than this!  He deserves me calling him anything I want to.  But as I said, I'm not angry.  Scarred maybe, but angry…no!

I'm wayyyy too happy to be anything but happy! 

This is my Spring!  

You Should Ear This!

Ali's earrings were so eye-catching on Saturday night, I simply had to tell her!  Like so many others?  Blessed souls that they are.  I've learnt too, that should you have nothing nice to say?    Best thing to do is to swallow. 

Swallow!  I say!  And then do a weeks detox.  Rather it cause indigestion in your own intestines than cause that poor person you just had to ask, "Why are you putting on so much weight?" to limp through their day wondering if their ass indeed did look wider than a three-hundred year old tree trunk! 

For me?  There's just never a good enough reason to make someone feel bad.  There're root canals designed specifically for that purpose.  Look.  Let's be honest for a minute.  We've alllllllllllllll, at some point in our lives, crossed paths with people who take tremendous pride in crushing the next persons spirit!  I had to check someone just the other day for doing that.  Yeaaaah!  Me.  Can you believe it! 

Not. Cool!  If you're one of those people?  Since that appears to be your comfort zone?  Hell awaits you.  Ay….I'mmmm juss saying.  Don't be all, "You didn't warn me" and shit when I’m sitting in heaven because I swallowed!  And?  NO, no!  No, NO!  This is not me damning anybody to the fiery pits of eternal torment.  Or Zimbabwe.  same difference.  This is me promising you that, inside?  That's all you're ever gonna feel.  Inner joy is pretty short-lived when the basis for it is something toxic.  'S alllll I'm saying. 

Men and women alike, and I don’t give two flying fantasies about what anybody says.  Heh-heh-heh.....you thought Ima use the other F word, didn't you?  Gotcha!  They care about their appearance and most likely?  Hey, they know that their clothes are a little tighter than they used to be.  And you might not even know whether the cause of it, is something psychological.  The moment you make those dumbass comments, thinking it’s cute to be crude?  Ofcourse that person might drop kick the toxins offa your tongue (gohhh person) or worse?  Their confidence goes straight to Shitville.  So tell me what’s the harm in looking them over one more time, and finding something you can compliment them on?  No harm!  Less swallowing. 

Thankfully though, that didn't apply to this situation.   I gave credit where credit was due.  Only for her to say, "Ooooooooooooooooooooo!"  Can’t say I was expecting that response, when my statement was, “You’re earrings are stunning!”  Heh-heh-heh!  HoweVer?  It was a reaction that I immediately recognized.  Amidst my anticipating giggle, I say, "There's a story behind them, right?"  I love Ali’s stories.  ^_^!  After the second "Oooooooooooooooooooo!"  I knew then and there it was gonna be a good one! 

So I inch in a little closer!

Inch

Inch

You know what happened then?  

I inched again.

My short, little, innovative cousin goes on to explain, "See?  I forgot to wear earrings so I had to break these things offa my hair-piece!" 

This was me, O_O!  “Bwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahahahhaahahahahahhaa!  Wait?  How are they staying on?  You glued them to your ears?"  I'm quite curious, never about history though, so while I'm laughing and asking?  I'm also wondering?  "You remembered to carry GLUE to a party but you forgot to wear EARRINGS?" 

This!  People?  Is the very same cousin who set the bottom of her new sweat-suit on fire in her car a few years back.  Girl thought she threw her cigarette outa the window only for it to boomerang right back in and land on the floor of the drivers side and then, "Sweet Jesus, it's a fiuuuuuuuuuuuuuure!"   She told me, LMAO,  "I wondered why it felt all hot by my feet!"

Fortunately, this hair-piece thingamajig sticks to the hair so there was no need for any inappropriate use of glue.  I somehow don't see that ending well.  At ALL!  Personally, I've never considered glueing anything to my ears to the point of actually doing it.  So at this stage, it's merely an assumption on my part?  You’re welcome to share your glueing experience should you have one.

My dilemma for right now?  I don't know, accurately, how to explain this hair-piece?  I didn't even see it, come to think of it, so I'm gonna wing it as best as I can!  It's not hair though.  That much I cannnn say.  If you're picturing one of those fake ponytails?  You're worst off than I am.  She didn't have two ponytails hanging from her ears.  Our conversation woulda been rather different if that were the case.  Just from what I saw of the "earrings," it was one of those diamond encrusted looking thingys.  You knowwwwww what they are!  Help a girl out, DAMMIT!  Just think....Hair.  Thingy.  Then you'll know precisely what I'm talking about.

Aaaaaaaaaargh!  >_<!  I'm doing a putrid job of explaining it.  Plus?!?!?!  I'm a woman and it's a woman accessory.  Bad Rambler!  In case you're aren’t sure anymore?  I do have hair.  It's down to my ass.  But I'm not the hair-thingy kinda girl.  My hair-thingy's are comprised of slouch caps, beanies and bandanas.  None of which would get me out of any kinda earring situation!  Mannnnnnnn, my confidence is taking a hugggge knock, here!  Hmmmmmmmmmmm-hm?!?  This is what happens when you have more sneakers in your closet than hair-thingy's.  Let this be a lesson to you!  Be knowledgeable, my fellow women, as a woman, about woman things!  

But?!?  I shan't give up.  Nope.  The best explanation I can give, short of drawing it?  And I will, if my hand is forced!  Is to call it…(drum rolllllllll please)…..

.......................a hair-ornament! 

Now please?  My bones are telling me that I need to clear something up.  By ornament, I don’t mean one of those maroon and white ceramic dog families that your mum has in the corner of the lounge and just point blank refuses to throw out.  Shhhhhhhhhhh, don’t tell our mother’s I said this but…don't-don’t you just wanna knock it over?   Like....Oooooooooooooooooooooops!  We can’t though, can we?  For me, Sunday lunch is on the line.  For you?  I haven’t a clue, but I’d rather stare at the ceramic pets than ruin a life-long family tradition.

The ornament that I am referring to?  Is one of those evening-wear accessories that you put on your hair, in the evening, where you know!  Without a doubt!  Should you forget your earrings at home?  You're covered! 

Just like half of Ali's ear-lobes!  I wish you’d seen them!