So much of happiness going on here.

I am no longer sticking my head in the sand.  I don’t feel as anxious or as worried about the immediate future.  Once again, my life has changed but I have so many things to look forward to:

• Sue is coming to Durban.
• Vince and Talita are introducing me to The Best Pizza In The World ™ soon.
• Cath is getting a new red Nigel.
• Cameron says ‘awesome’ now.
• My first god daughter has just turned 6.  Six!  Three weeks after Kiera was born, Nikki came into my life too and she is now six.  I sacrifice my fear of fish for her on Saturday, at uShaka Marine World.  But I do it gladly, for she is now six!
• I have things to write about.  The block is gone!
• My own bed is back with me and it is soooo comfy.
• I absolutely love my new bedroom.

Things that went on outside of this blog weren’t told about, but I’m happy to report that I am on the mend mentally, physically, emotionally and metaphorically.  Also literally, just for good measure.

And finally, are you read for it?  It’s a big piece of news: I am getting my ass into gear and am going on a holiday to CAPE TOWN!

For those of you who don’t know, I left Cape Town in a bit of a hurry earlier this year. A flight was booked in the middle of the night.  I said to myself that I wouldn’t hurry back.  But let’s face it, Cape Town has not only the mowwwwwntin, but a select few people that actually rock my world, and these people have convinced me to come to them, in manner of Jesus and his disciples*.  Except if anyone is going to be the messiah, it sure as shit isn’t going to be me.

I’m feeling so inspired, inspirational and insipid at the same time.  I write, write, write and write some more, and for the first time in a while, I woke up this morning with a smile on my face. An actual goofy assed, “look at me I’m happy” grin.

Fake It November ™ is going to be a brilliant month, I can feel it.  More importantly, I can hardly contain myself.  I. Can. Hardly. Contain. Myself.
* Ha ha, please don’t send me hate mail, I didn’t mean it.

Someone Else

I poured my heart out,

And had someone else’s poured out on me.

It’s the biggest secret in my life right now,

And only he will see.

Last month I sat there going ‘wake me up when September ends’ and someone did. We spoke that whole horrible night and laughed at our misfortunes and choices made wrongly. By opening up your heartache, you helped me deal with mine. It’s amazing how we sometimes just know about someone. Someone that we can trust. That we can share. That for all the secrets told, judgments won’t be made.

I have one of those people. It’s awesome. And it’s even awesomer to be that someone for Someone Else.  Because of our respective someone elses. It’s confusing, I know – don’t try keep up. But I’ve been awoken, even though it is almost one month after September. But thanks to Someone Else, finally I see a light at the end of this tunnel, and no, it’s not just from the fridge door being open.

Friends. Sometimes you just need them, especially when you don’t care to admit it. He is one person who can see through my hardcore tough girl image, without having actually seen me. It’s quite annoying, actually.

In light of me being shaken awake from the end of September blues, I would like to now declare a ’fuck-this-its-hard-but-oh-so-worth-it’ November, the month of Fake It. And my Someone Else knows why.

So this is my new Digs… and other stuff.

Pretty cool, huh?  Just paint me with a feather in my head and call me Stokahontas.

In other news, I was watching Barry Hilton the other night and had tears running down my cheeks.  The housemates were staring at me in fear, they’ve finally been introduced to ‘The Cackle’.  My brother warned them, so I hold no accountablility.  Anyway, going back to my story:  something Barry said got me thinking:

I love my Glenda, I truly do, but her voice irritates the befuckery out of me. So, I want to start an invention.  Just imagine you could have different characters for your GPS navigation?  Not just voices, but characters!

The British gay character:

Oh dahling, what the fuck have you got on?  Go back inside and change that skirt imme-jia-tely! Good, thats much better.  Now then, where’re we off to?  Ah, fab.  Swing a left over here and just drive on passed this ghastly looking public taxi.  Oh fuck, dahling, you’ve missed the blasted turn off.  Rather lets ask this gorgeous looking chap for proper directions, shall we?

The Curry-muncher from Chatsworth character:

Howsit my lunny, where we going in all?  Okey, mek a left at da robots, right?  Now rev your engine onetime to show dis lunny next door you have a Gee-Tee-Eye bru.  Okey den, now go right, right?  If you pus dis oke at da stop street don’t listen to him okey, he LIES, las’ time he promised us a buggin, remember dat?  Den de glasses broke, remember dat?  For true, rudder mek a motion to move, ek se”.

The Zol-bol character:

Woah, mian, why are you motioning so slooow?  Duuuuude, like, do you have any substinance?  I have a serious case of The Munchies.  Oh, cool you wanna go to the beach?  Yeah, its like *this* far, mian.  Woaaaaaah, check how pretty the robots are!  They’re extra greeeeen.  Uhh, if I told you we just went passed the offramp, would you like, “freak out” on me?

So, I have the idea, but who can actually get it out there?

Monday 20Q (on Wednesday)…with DENHAM!

– I do know my site was down for a while.  Apologies to you, I trust you survived what must have been an anguishing time, filled with misery and desperation.  I can assure you it won’t happen again in a hurry–

Denham Coote is a Programmer from Johannesburg.  He spends his days twittering with me and keeping me company until the early hours.  He also happens to be my online husbank.  He prefers I call him my hubskank, but he can’t always get everything he wants in life, especially as it’s not always about him.  For the nerds, you will have heard Denny talking about ‘Project Wolf’ the secret him and Tyler Reed have been hyping up.  I offered to flash him my booblets but even THAT didn’t work, so I’m guessing we’ll all have to wait a while yet before we get the inside scoop.

For the non nerds, I wanted you to have a bit of an insight to the one man who has surprised me to no end.  Out of the blue one night he offered to talk me through a technical problem and so we chatted on the phone.  And the rest is history, he’s amused me almost daily since.  More importantly, this man has a few things up his sleeve that he just sommer net chucks out there when you least expect it.  Like his comment below with regards to his Momma passing.  Anyway, an all-round really kiff dude, and someone I am proud to introduce to you okes:

Denny, tell us what you do for a living darlin’.
I’m thinking about retiring. Becoming a monk. Picking apples. Growing herb gardens maybe, I hear it’s therapeutic.

What would a day in the life of a monk be like?
Actually, no, not a monk – a Pimp!  Really though, I’m a Programmer in a management position.

Alrighty. How does Tyler Reed fit into your life? According to some (you), it’s been overheard that he may be your “bitch”?
I worked with him on a project for Younique. We worked really well together and have been getting involved in more and more projects together. Also, the infamous article quoted me as being his bitch

Anything you hoping to do in the next few months online?
Yes – We’re currently working on a project that we plan to launch early next year

Is this the infamous secret Project Wolf?
Heh. It is indeed.

Why is it such a secret? It’s driving me NUTS!
It’s not an entirely new concept, but we’re putting a new spin on it and making it really cool.

Any release dates in mind?
January 2009.  We had earmarked the 1st, but I’m gonna be sipping on some cold ones. So I guess Tyler’s got the graveyard shift.

Ok, quick questions.  You don’t like TV, what do you do instead?
Chatting to you, of course! But when you’re offline/working, I enjoy reading, photography, movies, sleeping, eating, coding, solving my Rubik’s cube, etc,

Ha! Favourite sweet?
Hmm. Not a huge eater of sweets, since I’m a diabetic, though I’d probably buy a Tempo if I had the urge.

Favourite T-shirt in your cupboard
Lol, random! Um, I’m not particularly fussy about clothing – Any old T that goes well with my comfy jeans

Best way to describe you in one word?
Damn, I thought I was gonna get easy Q’s – like A/S/L!  What’s one word for ReallyChilledAndCompletelyAROCatTheSameTime?    AROC = Anal Retentive Obsessive Compulsive.

ASL is a bit 2005 don’t you think?
2005? Try ’95!

You do a daily mugshot. How far are you now?
Ooh! I need to do one for today – Shaved my head this morning so should make a change!  Yes, I’m an about 50+ so far.

You shaved your head again? You like the bald look huh?
It works for me – I have really weird hair. But it’s also something I’ve done for years – My Mom had cancer for around 9 years before she passed away last year. Whenever she had chemo, I’d lose my hair. I’ve just continued with it.

Denny! Wow. That’s pretty deep.  And I’m totally in love with you right now.
*blush*

Alright, moving on, before I climb through this screen and attack your person in a pleasurable way.  I have a bag of unlimited size, you may fill it with 5 things of anything, what will they be?
Aaah, I forgot that was coming. Hmm.  I’m inclined to say something like “Duh, the whole friggin universe!”, but that’s a bit of a cop-out, isn’t it?  OK, so I’m imagining that this is a bag into which I put the last 5 things I can ever own – all other things/possessions are been relocated to /dev/null, yes?

Emm. No one ever questioned the 5 things.
See, and you want to sum me up in one word? Bah!

No, think of it like I walked up to you now. Whatever you have now, plus your 5 things.
Yes, but are they 5 things I already own, or 5 new things I want? Ok, ok, I’ll stop been difficult.

Oh fuck, thanks god.  Pick anything, like, a million bucks!
1.  Music – lots of it!
2.  Red wine – an endless supply of endless variety
3.  A Bugatti Veyron
[A whattiron? – Ed]
4.  Rubik’s cubes. They last me about a week before the labels are worn off

Oh, a Bugatti Veyron is a car. It kinda beats every other supercar out there, hands down.  It’s limited to 400km/h.  Ok, so I have music, wine, cubes, car. Need one more…Umm… This is where I should say ‘happiness’ or ‘world peace’ or something, hey?

Come come come.  Ah, well…
I’m thinking another Veyron so I can play in traffic with someone.  No wait, okay – number 5 is an endless supply of ice cold Heinekens (I say that only because it’s HOT right now and I want one!)

No, you already said the second Veyron.  But just for you I’ll throw in the Heinies.

Okay, if you were a woman, would you rather:
a) learn how to use a tampon
b) have your pubic hair waxed, or
c) have sensitive breasts for a week before every period

HAHA! Who says I’m not already well-versed with all 3! *cough* b *cough*

Any final last words?
How do you keep an idiot in suspense?

*waits for answer*

…hello?  Hellooooo?

A catch up on me!

• I moved into my new place this afternoon.
• I don’t have my bed yet, I’m sleeping on a mattress tonight.
• I’m sharing a house with a couple, this is a first for me.
• Apparently a ‘house share’ situation is what’s done these days.
• Nothing has been unpacked yet except for my laptop and toiletries.
• My room has a ghost in it apparently.  Ha ha, I can’t get away from them!
• My foot is playing up so much.  It’s been over a year and a half already since it was broken but it still has such bad days.
• I have a hair splitting headache, its been with me since Friday night.
• I now have wireless internet connection with unlimited bandwidth.  Woohoo!
• Where can I download music/movies/series?
• I am a hopeless romantic.  Damnit.  I hate this.
• I now live with a German and a Polish person.
• I found my cammo sneakers.  Yayness.
• My cupboards aren’t big enough
• I saw Cath and Cam today.  I’ve missed them lots.
• I’m still not over Friday night’s midget.
• I’m excited to start yoga again this week.
• I took too many anti-inflams.  I feel drowsy.
• I had fun with my brother.
• I’m sad he has gone back to Themiddleofnowhere again.

It’s Monday.  I am officially back in Durban again and I’m really happy to be.  I need to find something more challenging to do with my brain, it isn’t stimulated enough these days.

Catch you on the flip side of Mondaze

Scruffy Murphey’s in Scottsbeg.

Sil and I decided to go out on the town.  Two chicks, a girls night out.  Dressed to the nine’s and red paint at hand.  We landed up at a dodgey placed called ‘The Poison Apple’.  Snow White would not have approved, of this I am quite sure.  After a few toots, and then dinner at Phat Boyz, we went in search for the new club in Scottburgh town called Kalipso.  By the Pick ‘n Pay.  I shit you not.  Scottburgh is classy like that.

After driving round and round the parking lot, I was convinced that either the Toblerone coctails had gotten to me, or the Kalipso club was a figment of my Sil’s imagination. A few minutes later, I said “fuck this” and drove to the one pub I knew to be open and (hopefully) filled with a few patrons other than the old barman and bridge club members, Scruffy Murphey’s.  Its not named that for nothing, folks, let me just make that clear right here and now.

The bathroom is unisex and has been under renovation since I was 16.  The barman resembles an old hippie complete with tie-dye.  But now he has assistance in the form of two times very sexy jail bait minors.  Who I may or may not have hit on.  And may or may not have hit on me right back, complete with free ‘special’ shooters handed over the bar counter.

There were guyliner wearing dudes everywhere, one emo oke and another dude with red fucking painted nails!  One of them was grinding granny in the corner (I swear his chick was no younger than 46) and there was a mangy looking dog running around the place.  I found a few floaters in the first couple of drinks, so I eventually asked for Spice ‘n Ice, sans ice.  That seemed to work.  Or maybe I was just too pickled to notice the floaters, whichever.

I have to tell you about the DJ.  It was blonde.  It had an affection for ‘Love Generation’, Enrique Iglasias & Ricky Martin’s ‘She Bang’.  This deterred me not, I banged my hips, stomped my feet and shook my head along to the wacked out tunes regardless! The DJ was only visible to me from the forehead upwards as I am so vertically challenged, but I swear I saw make up, so presumed it was a chick.  Until the voice came over the microphone.  Far too deep.  Far too husky.  So naturally, like any normal person, I assumed it was a tranny.  No biggie, no biggie.  Until a few minutes later I noticed a kid walking out of the DJ box, only it wasn’t a kid.  It was a midget.  Who was also the DJ.  Who had been standing on a chair, I think.  Who made a bee-line for my breasteses.

Look, without going into detail here, I was ripped away from a very charming young man who resembled Justin Timberlake a few minutes later.  I may have been snogging this said person, I can’t recall entirely, when I was tapped on my thigh and offered a shooter by the mini dude.  Far too polite to decline, I accepted the shooter.  Things went pear shaped from there.

I don’t want to tell you how.  I don’t want to tell you why.  And I’m not sure if I’ll ever live this down, but the evening ended promptly after an incident.  The midget humped my leg.  For real.  And I will wake up with a hang over in the morning, its inevitable.  But by god, I can cross off one item of my ‘never-to-do-again’ list, and thats to patronage a place called Scruffy Murpheys in, what the locals fondly deem, Scottsbeg.

Final thought for Friday.

Omo - it washes that kak right out of your rugby shirt

GO, MY BOYS, GO!!!!!

I have a confession to make and its not pretty.

Because I accidentally hijacked someone.

I was given the above award yesterday.  Thanks Exmi, I’m very humbled.  Not.  But it sounds about the right thing to say when receiving an award.  Should I thank my fans and my producer now?  All jokes aside, thank you, because in giving me this award, you’ve encouraged me to over share some more, you’ve inspired something else.

There are few things I don’t blog about.  Yes, I’m pretty much open about most of my life, but believe it or not, there have been certain factors of it that have been left off this blog.  In over sharing, I’ve decided to come out of the closet.  To come clean.  To share with you something not many people know, unless you’ve met me in real life or have stalked my facebook photo albums (which isn’t hard, all you have to do is request a friendship).  I’ve decided to tell you about how one of the things I don’t blog about is my physical appearance.

“Oh but Sheen, we’ve seen photos of you already” I hear you all cry out loud, and you’d be correct.  But Photos are easily cropped, you see.  I don’t think I’ve ever put a full body picture on my blog.  Because I want to keep some semblance of privacy.  But also mostly because I hate my body.  I hate my chubby arms, for instance, or my wobbly tummy.  I especially hate my short legs and my freckly skin.  I don’t like the way my knees are, or the way my bum sort of just sits there.  I wish for so many things to be different about my physical appearance and I wish even more for some willpower to make a change.  But in saying this, I am not one of those people that hides behind baggy clothes and trench coats.  Oh no, quite the opposite.

I like to think I’m pretty confident in this life, I laugh loud, talk fast, make friends easily and enjoy being out and about.  I still find it amusing when men hit on me though.  I never feel like their compliments are sincere, which is sad.  I hate that there is this stigma attached to ‘fat’ people, that they’re undesirable.  It’s so wrong.  I would take being me over a skinny supermodel any day.  I would choose my arms over Madonna’s freakishly muscled ones in a second.  At the beat of a heart, I wouldn’t change my pregnancy scarred abdomen over Tara Reid’s botched up tummy tuck.  I would rather have my eyes over Cher’s sunken in ones.

I like that I am physically imperfect.  I like that there’s a part of me I am not happy with, it gives me incentive to try harder.  There are only so many things one can be good at, but being skinny is not one of my fortes, and I’m totally okay with that.  I just wish I wasn’t this totally okay with it.  So, for my next birthday, I don’t want to put up a list of items I want, but I will ask for some will power.  Will power to not make myself a skinny malinky, but maybe to become a bit healthier.  A bit more weight conscious than I’m not right now.

So there.  Today, on this blog, for the first time ever, I am coming out of the closet as a chubby.  I hope I haven’t dashed too many fantasies.  I hope you’ll still love me and think me fabulously awesome and beautiful and charming and witty, because I am.  I’m just not as perfect as I make out to be most of the time.

Ginger ninja / Fanta Head / Carrot Top – it’s all part of my ‘new look’

Friday night, my mother tags along to 3rd Avenue, my local pub hang out when I go home to my family.  Aside from my brother being the barman there, I have a lot of history with the place.  I saw it being renovated by my dad, I helped the chef do up the original menu, I ran the place a bit with a mate of mine and I got pickled there plenty!

Anyway, as mentioned in a few previous posts, I was rather inebriated on Friday night and was a bit on form.  Top form, if I may say so.  Unfortunately, so was my mother.  In the group there happened to be two rather good looking men.  Poor fuckers, they never stood a chance.  I happened to mention to my mother that the one was a Chiropractor.  I then told her to not say anything as he was rather dashing and I used to have a crush on him a few years ago.  The less attention brought to myself the better.

“Excuse me, young good looker, are you a chiropractor?” was of course the very next thing out of her mouth.  Directed to said Chiropractor.  Loudly.  “Have you met my daughter Sheena, she’s very fertile” was the next.  The dude blinked a lot, his mouth was wide open and of course I just sat there pretending to be the picture on the wall behind me.

Tazz was sitting next to me.  She hadn’t been exposed to my mother in years and was loving this more and more every second.  The evening pressed on and I eventually sent my mother to the Old People’s Corner, she wasn’t impressed.  I caught her waving to my friend Harry and silently motioning for him to call her.  I nearly died.  He even had to walk her to the car when we left.  Only my mom.

Anyway, the point of this was to introduce to you my red hair, I just didn’t know how so I thought I’d share with you the above story of my mom, who happened to dye my hair for me.  There you go, I made the connection.  My best friend Brend, who can be very crude sometimes, tells me that I look like I haven’t had the fire fucked out of me.  Tell me what you think: