Things I did this week:

This has me in stitches. I have no idea why, but it's HILARIOUS!

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

1. Met Jon’s sister. She’s the opposite to him, and very much like me. It’s awesome, we gang up on Jon!
2. Had sushi, thrice.
3. Went to get my eyes checked – I’ve deteriorated by almost half my previous eyesight result. Scary. That’ll teach me to avoid the optom for 4 years.
4. Got very stoned. By accident. Sort of. Got ripped off too, incidentally.
5. Spent 60% of every work day in meetings.
6. Tripped down the staircase at home, twice.
7. Got locked out of the house due to Talita crashing through the gate. Snigger. I know I shouldn’t laugh – she didn’t appreciate it then and I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate it now – but goddamn, it’s funny! And you people think I’m accident-prone?
8. Found out that The Goose and I will be spending 4 days in Cape Town together next month, spooning in a bed & speaking at the same concert conference I told you about earlier. CT better watch itself, there might not be a mowwwwntin by the time we leave.
9. Received emails to let me know that our flights, accommodation and car hire is all covered. Thank you Marian, you super star you!
10. Met my boy bff’s new too-soon-to-be-called-gf-in-public. But she’s very pretty and very down to earth. I think I like her. Further investigation is required.
11. Broke my favourite pink princess shoes. Today. At work. Sob!
12. Received a millionty seven phone calls from my mother, I sent her my old (fixed) Blackberry as a gift. NEVER EVER AGAIN! The previous generation (my mother only, not YOU guys – chill) should not be legally allowed within 4 metres of this technology. Their offspring suffer for it..

That’s all I have time for.

Loves!

WTF Conference

See those big names up there?  Somehow my name got stuck in between them.

I hope some of you will be able to attend the conference and watch me trip over the podium.  Or something equally clumsy yet inevitable.

Posted via email from if these (posterous) walls could talk…

I am the condom culprit.

Something I’ve wanted to write about for ages, but never have. Buying condoms. Peas wrote about it last year, which kind of put me off because quite honestly, she did such a good job I didn’t think I could top her story. Until Friday afternoon happened.

I went into my local Pick n Pay, with the aim of buying cat food. I ended up emptying the entire shelf of their gourmet entree chicken things, as my cat has decided she’s full of shit and refuses to eat anything else (thanks, my darling boyfriend, you’ve spoiled her. Just like I said you would).

Having a bit of extra time on my hands, I wandered through the aisles, until I got to the toiletries section, and low and behold: they’re now stocking condoms, right there out in the open and everything.

Now usually I make Jon do this honour, while I sit in the car and giggle like a special person. I’ve been known to even tweet my anxiety. Buying condoms, as with tampons, is really the worst thing in the world ever. For some reason, as much as I over-share here on my blog, it’s something that KILLS me in person. The idea of everyone in the shop knowing what I want to do is too much.

Cue the scene of me on Friday, in the tampon aisle, staring at the condoms, willing myself to become invisible. I knew that I’d save Jon some time if I just manned up and grabbed a box. Except there was an old lady not a metre away from me, and I swear she could sense what I was about to do because she kept looking over her shoulder at me and frowning.

Eventually, with the speed of light, I stuck out my hand and grabbed some condom box that seemed to be the same colour as our usuals. Only, two boxes came stuck to it. Not wanting to look like a sex predator, in my attempt to unstuck them, my elbow went crashing into the shelf and a millionty seven other boxes came flying down with the freaking shelf.

By now, the granny had turned right around took one look at me, shook her head and tut-tutted her way to the cashiers to tell on me and the mess I’d just created.

And so I did the responsible adult thing, I flung one box into the trolley, did a U-turn, threw a few other toiletries on top of the condoms on my way back down the aisle and sped to the bakery where I hung out between the bread rolls and spied on the confused looking granny & Pick n Pay staff member looking for the condom culprit.

Sigh. I’m never doing it again, I don’t care if I never have sex until I’m 40 – I will not buy condoms again, it’s all up to Jon now. I didn’t at first succeed and so now I’m going to pretend that I never even tried.

National Cleavage Day

It’s National Cleavage Day. And since I have so much cancer in my heritage, I support this every year with the greatest of pleasure.

So, um, here:

And then, just before you go – make sure you click here to see what we’re celebrating on NerdMag!

There is a movement happening: #SpeakZA

It’s an outcry, people.  Journalists have been threatened, bloggers are getting involved.

Nyiko Floyd Shivambu tried to use the media to lambaste the man who exposed embarrassing information about the ANCYL president, Julius Malema. Are you rolling your eyes already?  Well, read more:

Then, when 19 political journalists put their names to an official complaint, the ANCYL president himself retorted with a letter, calling the journos a mob and a nameless concerned group. The bloggers getting involved in #SpeakZA were then referred to as “fake people” [on the internet].  I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty much the opposite of fake.  And I’d prefer the term Desktop Activist, thank you.

It’s quite a story, read more here.

Basically, bloggers are standing up for journalists for a free press in South Africa.  The Twitter hashtag #SpeakZA says it all.  The Facebook group has grown to over 155 people in less than 2 hours.  I am proudly jumping onto my soap box and right on the bandwagon.

Speak, South Africa, speak.  Don’t let them silence us.

I will not be censored.  I will not stay quiet.  This is my country, I will speak.

Just because my life hasn’t been interesting enough…

I am convinced that electrical shock(s) I received have begun to morph me into a supernatural.  I’m suddenly able to concentrate for longer periods, I haven’t had a headache in ages, I’m waking up earlier and earlier every day, and I swear half an hour ago the phone rang and I knew who it was before I answered it.

My spidey senses are tingling, I tell you.

I got to work half an hour early this morning, after being here until after 8 last night, and merrily made myself a cup of tea, swapped greetings with the kitchen staff, spoke shit to a few people outside on the balcony, had a smoke, drank my tea, made my way back to my desk, and BAM!

Chickie from the kitchen is tapping my shoulder asking if I dressed in these “pant” on purpose.  Preparing myself for a compliment, I straightened my shoulders, shook my hair and raised my chin, to hear what she was complimenting about my awesome black slacks:

“Eish,” she says while looking over her shoulder.  ”Your pant, she’s having a hole”.  Oh, awesome, that’s just fucking perfect. Looking at my butt, I suddenly notice how breezy it is down there…

Fuck me twice on Sunday if half my ass isn't HANGING OPEN FOR THE WORLD TO SEE!

The best bit?  I have had meetings all day.  All.  Day.  Not only have I not been able to run home and change, but I’ve had to explain to all colleagues and clients exactly why I’m dressed like Nicole Richie.

Not cool, hey.  Not cool.

You’d think the sign would say it all, right?

Yesterday Jon took me through to the Lion & Rhino Park out in the middle of nowhere, near my old farm. What an electrifying experience! Not only did I get to see baby lions, stand less than 40cm away from a real life Siberian tiger (and not a baby one either – it was big!), I also got to watch a cheetah race 4 grown human men. And, to top it all off, I nearly wee’d in my pants after I’d stopped wanting to vom, because I kinda got electrocuted.

It’s true. Jon asked me to get up and closer to take a photo of a leopard, but through the fence, he didn’t want lines in his photo. So me, being the ever obliging girlfriend, got up and personal, and got zapped at the same time. Can I just tell you – it’s really not as fun as one would think.

I heard a ZWAAAPPA! in the air and then a DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN in my ears and then a BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ in my head. Not to mention my tongue was letting off some acidic spit, my throat was on fire, I didn’t know if I should cotch, wee, cry or lay down until the urge went away. All the while, being completely grateful that I didn’t drop my new Blackberry in the leopard cage. Cos, you know, being electrocuted aside, losing my Blackberry woulda suuucked.

After my body stopped trembling and I stopped wanting to pass out, Jon asked for permission to laugh. I got the giggles. And then I nearly ran into a balding weird looking bird.

And that’s not all! Once we got back to my place, I realized that Salamander (the middle kitten, the one remaining, the one who will live at home with us) was missing. Jon and I heard him next door, in the bush, stuck in a tomato tree. He was too small to jump back over the wall and too stupid to go back the way he came, through a hole in the ground.

So I bravely mustered up all my courage, coaxed him to the sound of my voice, Jon deployed Seasea Cat (Salamander’s mom) to go fetch him, and finally he jumped up where I could grab him, through our electric fence. AND I GOT SHOCKED AGAIN!!!!!  But not before I stood barefoot, into a rotten tomato.

So, two electrical shocks later, a day of cats taking up my time, almost losing my Blackberry to a leopard (that would have trumped all my other phone stories though, in retrospect) and some QT with my giggling boyfriend, I was a little grateful the weekend came to an end. I don’t know how much more trouble I would’ve been able to live through, hey.

Happy fake Mondaze!

Note to everyone who will use William Nicol Interchange this weekend!

My Jewish Boyfriend.

I absolutely adore my Jon. He’s wonderful to me and makes me love him more and more all the time. But there are certain things about him that I simply cannot keep from the internet any longer.

For those of you who have met him, you will already know that he is a gem. An absolute diamond in the rough, one who speaks as if he is from the 19th Century. He does this often. He is well mannered, perfectly polite and impeccably well spoken & exquisitely charming. He’s also completely fucking OCD, but that’s besides the point.

The thing I tease him love most about him is that he is a grinder. You know how when you get cut off in traffic and you stick your finger out the window whilst shouting obscenities? Jon grinds his teeth. You know how when you get so mad that you throw things, screech and threaten? Jon grinds his teeth, loudly.

When he is disappointed, he uses big words. Or bribes me emotionally. Like the other day when my old Blackberry committed suicide and died, I had to ask Facebook to send me his number. Yes, it’s disgusting that I don’t know his number, I know I know. What did Jon do? He quietly sighed, smsed me his number and then repeated mine verbally every time I looked at him the next few days.

So it was when he forwarded me this email he sent to Vodacom today, that I cracked up.  I shared it with ExMi first, and then on her insistance, decided to share it here too:

Click on pic for bigger image!

Disclaimer:  Thank god he loves me back and accepts me the way I accept him, because believe it or not I’m posting this with his permission.  Sort of kinda.