The weekend that was.

A few weeks ago Briget meme’d me to write a blog post listing things I’d said in the last week.  Since you all know how bad my memory is these days, I opt to list things I said out loud either at my mom’s house this past weekend, or on the road trip home with Jon yesterday.

• No but really, how can scientists prove that there is no pregnancy without sex? I mean, what if I’m 12 years old and ride a horse that wobbles me enough to break my hymen? And then a week later I accidentally sit in an hour old puddle of sperm?  It’s totally possible for that virgin to fall pregnant.
• Sperm can survive for four hours out in the open.  Swear to god.
• Darryn, I DO NOT WANT TO SQUEEZE YOUR PIMPLE! LEAVE ME!
• No babe, I don’t want to wake up now.  Close the door and get back into bed with me.
• Mom those panties* could fit in a whole other half of you.
• Do I also have a freckle on my fanny?
• PULL OUT THE HAIR! PULL IT! JUST PULL! AAAAAAAAAAAAAARGGGGGGGGGGGGGH!
• I love you too my mother, you’re my favourite one.
• I wish you lived closer.
• No, I don’t have anything in my eye – I’m crying to the lyrics of this song about Jesus.  Jesus!
• Thank you for my car.  And for all these clothes.  You spoil me, I love you.
• Warrick! Go and shower**, you have a vegetable garden coming out of your ears! Look, there’s some broccoli!
• Yes! My BlingBerry is BACK***!

*My mother.  In her former panties.  She’s looking SO good!

**Not quite convinced that being clean is all its cracked up to be, Warrick fell asleep in my mom’s bed, upside down.  Here is physical proof of just how “clean” he was:

*** We sat around blinging our phones on Saturday.  Except Jon, he put a very manly cover on his.  *cough*

Mission: Obtain Sheena’s New Car from Durban

So last week an opportunity presented itself to me:

Last week: Hi! I’m an opportunity! Would you like to accept it?

Me: Fuck yeah!

The story goes like this:

The car I’ve been driving for the last year, the Peugeot 206 GTI, Silver, awesome, is a tad expensive for me.  I have been paying R4000 on a car every month that I don’t technically own.  See, a friend of mine wanted someone to take over payments and then take official ownership of the car once it was paid off.  So I intended to buy it, with my whole heart.  Except the game then changed, and they wanted another 100k over and above the nearly 60k I’d already paid.  R160 000 for a car that was only worth about R80 000?  I love that car, but not that much.

Brother Baboo calls me up and tells me that I’m wasting my money and that I should rather buy his car because;

a) I’m his sister and apparently loyalty should always lie with him

b) He doesn’t like his car as it drives like tortoise

c) It is a black Citroen C2, it’s seven kinds of awesome

So just like that, I call up the Peugeot owners, tell them I’m not a happy chappy and that I have waited long enough for contracts etc and that I’m officially giving notice.  They say they need the car back that week in order to sell the car.

I get online, book two tickets for Jon and myself to fly down to Durban on Saturday to collect the car.

Saturday afternoon rolls around and I drive the Citroen.  It was love at first sight.

Picture this. With black mags and tinted windows.

Driving back on Sunday was not so awesome.  The drive is long.  Although my new car is smooth, quiet, light on fuel and pretty rad, it’s also pretty slow.  It’s only a 1400 which will take some getting used to.

So, what shall we call him?

Sipho?

My brain is dead

I don’t know what’s going on with me lately, I’m forgetting things left, right and center.  The other day I drove all the way to work and once I got to my desk I leaned over to set up my laptop only to realise I’d left it at home.  So I drive all the way home and pick it up, rush back to work (now late for a meeting that I had, wait for it, forgotten about) and then realise I’d left the fucking power charger behind!

This morning, after suffering with a migraine for almost three days now, I sit on the bed and try to figure out why the hell the myprodol has still not taken affect, when I look over and realise that fart face over here forgot to even take the bloody pills!

Then, in an absolute stroke of genius this afternoon, I hand over the keys to what is no longer my car and watch as it drives off, content in the knowledge that I take receipt of my new car this weekend.  Three hours later, I get an sms that says there are “weird keys” on the key ring of the Peugeot that I’ve just given to the new owner.  Oh great, only my house keys.  Nothing important or anything.  And then I remember something else, my fucking work key card is also still in the Peugeot.  Awesome.  Now I can’t get into the house OR into the work parking basement.

On a happier note, I forgot all about weigh in classes and have been inhaling fanta grape all day, half a bag of the big Simba chips packet’s, about five mini chomps and I cannot get the thought of a Nando’s chicken and cheese wrap out of my head.

FML.

PS: No, I’m not pregnant.  I’m just someone who has a defunct brain and can’t figure out why.

The Benefits of MyCard

Remember a while back I told you about Standard Bank’s MyCard?  I’ve received emails asking for more detail and why women should go for this credit card.  Well, here it is!

Benefits:

Get MyCard from Standard Bank and enjoy your moments – The freedom to treat yourself wherever you choose. MyCard is tailored with attractive benefits and features such as cash back on any purchase from wherever you choose, comprehensive MyCare benefits and special offers and discounts with Value Choices every month.

Features:

MyCard gives you the freedom to shop online securely and at no additional cost, free basic travel insurance if you are under 76, and up to 55 days of interest free credit provided your account is paid on or before the due date, cash advance transactions are excluded as these attract interest from day 1.

• You get the following transactions free per month:
  • One cash deposit
  • One ATM provisional statement
  • One over-the-counter provisional statement
  • One balance enquiry at an ATM
  • One balance enquiry over-the counter
  • You have control over how you want to use your credit card limit as the revolving and budget limits are combined into a single account limit.

• You get cash back every time you swipe.

How the cash back works:

• With MyCard you get cash back every time you swipe your credit card, which then accumulates over 6 months and is paid into a separate gift card called MyGift (you receive a minimum of R100 cash back on your MyGift card). You can then spend your MyGift card to celebrate your special moment wherever and however you like.  You receive up to 1.5% cash back on point of sale spend (Based on the total value of point of sale transactions for the 6 months excluding reversals and chargebacks.)
  • 0.5% from R1, 000 – R3, 500
  • 1% from R3, 500 – R10, 000
  • 1.5% for spend of R10, 000 and more

• You receive MyCare benefits which include:

• Peace of mind in your time of need.

With MyCard, you get free MyCare benefits that pay up to R10 000 in the case of the primary cardholder being diagnosed with a female cancer.

• Support for accidental disability.

With MyCard, you receive R10 000 cover in the case of the primary cardholder suffering accidental disability.

• Support in case of a roadside emergency.

With MyCard you receive assistance during a roadside emergency in the event that your car has a mechanical or electrical breakdown, flat tyre or battery, or in the instance when your vehicle runs out of fuel or you lock your keys in your car.

• Assistance in your time of need.

MyCard offers you a wide range of support, whether you require an emergency ambulance, medical or household assistance and counseling. From discounts on doctor consultation fees and medication, to telephonic Helpline that offers advice on medical emergencies and emergency household repairs. We also provide members with psychological counseling on such issues as traumatic experiences, bereavement and HIV and Aids.

For more information on what this policy entails, please click here.

Nom nom nom

So I might not always make the best choices, or spell words exactly like the dictionary does, or even put the commas in the right, places.  But I always blog.  And I always do it with love.  And fuck it, even SA Blog Awards uses their own version of word orders, look here for proof:

So anyway.  Now that we’ve all seen that, can we click on this please:

There are three days left.  THREE DAYS.  But I personally think you should do it right now, because if you think “oh, I don’t feeeeel like it.  I’ll do it just now.” then you’re a twat, because everybody knows that “just now” means “probably never” and Probably Neverers never get anywhere.  Probably.

So ya, after that delightful speech, I’m sure you feel all motivated and in a giving mood.  So I’m obliged to receive, so go nomnomnominate me.  You’ll feel better about yourself, fact.

Also, last pitch, did you know it was my birthday yesterday?  Aren’t us birthday people supposed to get what we want?  Well, I want to get into that blog award thingie.  The Best Personal one.  Or overall blog.  Hell, even the Twitter account of the year.  Whichever, I’m not fussy. I just want another shiny thing to add to my widgets.

And to maybe be asked to tea with that Mandela fella.

It are my humphry bumphry

In a weird turn of events, I woke up one year older this morning.  I’ve gone from this:

To this:

Strange, I know.  I’m so much skinnier* now!

On Saturday a whole group of us rocked up at Emmerentia Dam and hoolahooped, played pass the parcel (with a twist**), ate cake, smuggled in alcohol, danced, almost lit my cake on fire and had a good time.  We then went through to Hooters and drank chocolate tequila and I personally was quite disappointed at the lack of hooters at Hooters.

Anyway, it’s my second birthday in Hoburg.  I am happy.  I am healthy.  I am blessed with special people in my life. Most of them ritards, but I love them all the same.

I can no longer say I’m in my early twenties, what a bummer.  But I’m just that much closer to my dirty thirties!

Here’s to another hundred years.  I’m getting closer to my goal of being the granny who makes awkward comments at family get-together’s and bribes the grandkids to pour the booze.

Love & smiles!

Protected: The Unattainable.

I found a solution to confronting!

You know, if you had to force me to weigh up the pros and cons of living in Durban vs. Hoburg, I could probably tell you that although I love my home city, Hoburg would win.  Except for today.  Not only am I PMSing insanely but this afternoon I was stuck in traffic and PMSing.  So right now, Durban wins.  Purely because although its likely that I could still PMS in Durban, I probably wouldn’t want to simultaneously kill myself and everyone around me with a fork, some string and a four pound fucking hammer, because in Durban, there is no traffic.

On my way home from an emotionally and mentally EXHAUSTING day, I was stuck behind the wheel, smoke in hand, music blaring as is my way of recharging at the end of the work day (or night as it so usually happens) when I noticed that the dude behind me was chewing with his mouth open, like a cow to cud.  Which made me also notice that he was getting a little bit too close for my liking…

What, would you like to park in my boot, fuck nut? I thought, mockingly.  And I swear to God he heard me, because I can put my hand on the holy bible, that dude inched even more forward.  Strangely, his face even looked menacing and practically screamed “whatchagonnado, huh?”.  Well.  He clearly has not met me, Sheena The Almighty.  So what did I do?  I silently seethed, shut my trap and inched a bit forward with an apologetic look on my face for the sake of the driver in front of me.  Confrontational motherfucker that I am…

About two seconds later, I’m scowling at my rearview mirror and I see this guy snacking on a packet of something, literally chewing sideways, like a fucking cow.  I promise you I’m not exaggerating!  Fewer things piss me off in life than someone who cannot close their mouth while chewing.  THEN the guy starts smsing on his stupid little non-Blackberry, so his eyes are not even remotely watching where he’s driving.  I watch in horror and anticipation as his car creeps closer and closer to the back of mine and as I closed my eyes waiting for the impact, my hand did its own thing and honked the hooter angrily.

I opened my eyes in surprise, and to my dismay, the driver in front of me whips off her seat belt, opens her door, leans out and starts screaming at me!  WHAT?!

Front driver: DID YOUR MUVVER NEVER TEACH YOU ANY MANNERS?  WHY IS YOU HOOTING AT ME? AND STOP DRIVING UP MY GAT, FOK!

Me: Um?

I was flummoxed.  All I was trying to do was avoid the tosswanker behind me!  So I sat there in my car stewing, willing the robot to go green and I happened to spot the back driver behind me laughing.  LAUGHING.  HE FUCKING LAUGHED.  AT ME!!!! Good God Almighty, that was the last straw.

So I whipped off my seat belt, opened my door, got OUT OF MY CAR, and stomped over to his driver side.  I banged on his roof and screamed like a banshee until he opened his window.  The minute he did, I let rip:

WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM, FUCKER?

*breath*

…YOU THINK IT’S FUNNY?  THE ONLY REASON SHE’S PISSED IS BECAUSE I’M TRYING TO AVOID YOUR COW CUD CHEWING SELF, SMSING OFF YOUR 1940′S PHONE WHILE YOU’RE DRIVING YOUR FUCKED UP UGLY AND OLD MERCEDES! JESUS! BACK THE FUCK UP, BUCKY!

*breath*

And if you wouldn’t mind too terribly, please close your mouth when you’re eating, I can see your tonsils. It’s rude.

And with that I turned around, walked back to my car, lit a smoke and turned up my music.  He didn’t come within hearing distance again.  And I noticed that he stopped eating, smoking and smsing too.

So it looks like all I have to do around here to defend myself and actually confront someone is be hormonal, bloated, pimply and have a very fucked up day.

Win!

Stuff and things and things.

It’s been a bit of a crazy week, okay?  I’m sitting this in my PJ’s at 5′o clock on Sunday, completely chilled on the floor of the loft upstairs, watching Smallville and listening to Jon mutter at WoW.

I got back from Cape Town on Wednesday, just in time for a private dinner with Sharlto Copley and Rampage Jackson, of the A-Team.  Spent all of Thursday with them too, as well as hung out with a whole bunch of people at the Jo’burg premier at Monte Casino on Thursday night.  It was rad, but I have to say, I’m all shlebbed out, I won’t lie. Famous people are cool but in small doses.  Also, it’s not rad spending pretty much 24 hours focused on just one thing – I get way too… something.

Anyway, enough about work.  A few weeks ago I decided that I like flowers again.  For those of you who know me, know that this is a big frigging deal.  To me, until recently, flowers represented death.  You get frikking MOBBED by flowers when someone dies.  My someone was Kiera, obviously.  So for a long, long, long time I swore off flowers, and told the same to anyone ignorant enough to buy me any.  Until a few weeks ago.  I spotted an orchid.  A purple one.  And a black one.  And a yellow one.  And I liked them all.  And then, every time Jon and I walk into a Woolies, I end up making a bee line straight to the fucking orchids going “oooh” and “ahhhh”.  Very girly of me, huh?

On Friday I was pretty much blown away by my Jew.  I got to work and not long after, received a call from reception to fetch a delivery.  Yup – he remembered that I like flowers now.  There sat a beautiful purple and yellow orchid.  Also, with a big red balloon with I LOVE YOU emblazoned.  Fuck yes!

And then, not three hours later, whilst still in a meeting, in walks the receptionist with a big glint in her eye, and delivers a white box in front of me.  A box of my favourite Angel’s Cupcakes!  But wait, check out what they spelled:

Seriously?  How did I find myself a feeder? get so damn lucky?  I love this Jew, so much man! It makes my heart squeeze.

Ja.  So a kak busy week, but it ended on such a sweet and loving note, how could I possibly even try to complain about life right now?