Test Post From BlogDesk

In order to save me some time when blogging, I downloaded this cool little app thingie. I will now upload an image of utter seriousness to see if this thing works, as well as tag this post in a few random categories. I’d appreciate your feedback of my awesomeness soonest.

Cats are being picked up on Sunday, btw. Awwwww. I’m going to be so bleak without the little shits.

Also, I have 4 up-coming late nights and I’m shitting meself. I’m old(ish) you know… I can’t be doing these things anymore.

Okay. ‘Till later. Luff you.

What happens behind closed screens

…when its an online convo between two singletons of the opposite sex destined to fuck around but never take it seriously:

9:57 PM SheBee: you don’t love me any more :’(

Pieletjies: or any less

SheBee: I’m breaking up with you. all you do is whine about how busy you are and pay me NO attention.  what kind of online lover are you?

9:58 PM: Pieletjies: lol.   i got a new iphone! 3g

SheBee: : did you?! thats fabulous. black or white?

Pieletjies: black

SheBee: good choice apparently the white ones are all cracking.

i got a GPS and a GHD

Pieletjies: i got a bsc and a vip

SheBee: I got a std and hiv

Pieletjies: : oh man

SheBee: i win, right?

Pieletjies: yes. fuck yes.  fuck me I cant see my glasses are all misted up

SheBee: steam ironing your penis will do that to you’

Pieletjies : from laughing man

SheBee: who’s your mate Justin [on facebook – Ed]  tell him i’ll shtup him for free and everything.  What a hottie!

Pieletjies: he’s a screaming queen

SheBee:  ah fuck man!  i always accidentally perv at gay men   i suck

10:06 PM Pieletjies *censored censored censored*

Pieletjies 10:05 PM this phone is AWESOME.  i swear my *censored* just grew an extra 4 inches. since I put on my facebook status that I got a 3g iPhone – I have had 4 hot chicks add me as a friend

10:25 PM SheBee: charming

10:29 PM Pieletjies: dont even laugh, they’re gonna send me pics of their panties for me to virtual sniff

10:30 PM SheBee: even if you get panties it still won’t beat the presents i’ve gotten recently. My online people kick ass.

Pieletjies: so, you would shtup a gay man, but not me? Whats wrong with me?

10:31 PM: SheBee: lol.  i think we’ve established that i would shtup you

but we’ve decided that would fuck up the relationshit or whatever gay phrase you used

10:32 PM so now you gotta put up with me checking out your mates, gay or not

Pieletjies: um would you settle for a 68 ?

10:33 PM: SheBee: where’s the last 9?

Pieletjies: a 68 is like a 69 except you do me first and I owe you one.

Oh wow, I’m touched all over the place and back again

Glenda Penelope Scott.  That’s the name of my new GPS kindly gifted by MsBehavn.  She’s beautiful.  She’s clever. She’s polite.  I’ve tested her out and even gone down one ways to see what she does, and true to her trusty nature, the GPS goes fucking insane.  Beeeeeeeeep! PLEASE KEEP LEFT. PLEASE KEEP LEFT. PLEASEKEEPLEFTPLEASEKEEPLEFT!

Cath got a taste of Glenda Penelope Scott this morning on the way to the airport, both of us still slightly drunk and partially hung over and very bushy tailed and puffy eyed.  Cath thinks that Glenda she’s marvelous!

Quick question for you GPS users out there, what’s the skinny, do you unclick the GPS from its position every time you leave the car? I do that with my radio face, so I suppose theoretically I could possibly get into that habit.  I’m just so in love with it, it’s unreal!  I don’t want it to be stolen.

Also, I’m battling to find certain addresses, like mine at home, for example.  I just search for the next street, which is a big one and shows up no problemo, so any tips or information in personal experiences would be more than welcome.

On a completely different note now, as if I needed to be spoilt any more, Cow_Grrrl‘s parcel arrived yesterday. Oh my god, Suetjie, I cannot explain to you how touched I am. That we’ve never met before, or even spoken outside of the internet, yet you know me so well and represented almost all that I am in one box!  I am truly thankful and blown away by your kindness.  HUGE hugs for you, babe!

Cath had her own little parcel too and guys, we sat on our lounge floor and brought out the Rum (since Cam was at her Dad for the night).  Aside from things like baked beans (for my toast, because of the shopping spree last week), a beautiful little hand book for notes, a 15minute yoga book, O Magazine, a wireless router and other stuff, she bought me a frikken GHD!  HOLY FUCKING MOLY! Never did I expect that I would ever have one of those beauties before I sold one or both of my boobs. A GHD. A G.H.D. A frikken G-H-D.  You are insane, babe! 

Anyway, to tide you over until we here at The Shath, come thank you in person, I have written you a poem:

Oh cowgirl, oh cowgirl
You make me smile so
Out of the blue, you pitched up
With words of love, and tweets saying ‘sup

I’m so glad to have met you in this swirl
straight out of nowhere you send gifts of laughter
To make me smile more, before and even after.

Cath sat on her hands for hours, until we were both back at ours
And on twitter and the phone did she moan
But we had to curb the curiosity jointedly, you see
And when we did, in our excitement we had to fight for the toilet to wee

In twitter we trust
More than men’s lust
I am truly blessed
And our lounge is totally messed
But there’s a friendship that will last to the end
I’m so lucky to have met you, my friend

** THANK YOU **

Also, please look out for a very drunken vlog done by Cath and I.  Oh lawd.

I teargassed our kitchen!

So, Hayley thought it would be funny to give me teargas, in case I accidentally hijack somebody again and need to protect myself.

I get home from the coast this morning and decide to test the stuff.

I aimed for the kitchen sink, forgot to cover my mouth and naturally it ricoccheted off the wall, nowhere near the sink, and hit me right in the gob.  Needless to say, I have been streaming tears, coughing and sneezing the house down, and our kitchen is infected with tear gas.

Like Cath says:that’s like giving a psycho person a knife and hoping they dont stab anyone!

I have teargassed the kitchen.  Oh boy…

Obstacle Illusions will not get me down

Do you know what I’ve discovered about Durban?  That its not for sissies.  Or lazy people.  There are bloody stairs everywhere.  The parking lots are miles from anything constructive – such as shoe shops, and the flea markets are made for people with zen energy, positive vibes and skirt wearers of tie-dye.

My flat was designed for someone with the need for a hearing aid, this being because of the COMPLETE RETARDS that drive up and down the my road at FOUR AM IN THE GODAMNED MORNING while I am peacefully minding my own business, trying to – oh I don’t know – SLEEP!

Other than that though – the people are hilarious, friendly and so welcoming.  I still dislike my boss somewhat, but its okay – I’m not there to make friends, right?  The beach is beautiful, the area I live in is characteristic and my neighborhood is warm, busy and interesting.

The guys across the road provide so much entertainment for us, and we’ve gotten into the habit of having conversations through hand signals and waves.  I’ve stopped getting lost at every second robot and was even able to give someone else directions this morning.

I think finally, I’m growing up.  I’m learning to not open up to every single person I meet and sometimes wish I could back track on the people I have opened up to.  That’s okay though, I’ve put it all down to school fees.

Life is not about the destination I suppose, its about the journey along the way.  This journey has been recently trying and exceptionally higher grade in learning curves, I can only imagine that I’m better for it.

I will succeed at this, even if I break my back trying, or go through a hundred pairs of good shoes while I’m at it.  Right now it’s a challenge, and I plan on beating myself at my own game.  Wish me luck!

“Why I mastubate my son” debate

I’m a little bit slow on the uptake, but reading through one of my favourite blogs archives, I came across quite a controversial story, here is the link.

This story not only saddens me and makes me cringe, but it also touched a small part of me in the way that I can sympathise with this father, if not agree with his method.  I urge you to click the link, but beware that there is a lot to read, and for the lazy ones I will do a summary:

Mustafa is a 21year old boy who suffers from severe cerebral palsy and has the mentality of a mere baby.  His loving father, Fayzal has controversially come out to the media of how he "massages his sons genitals" in the name of sexual tension release, and maintains that this is purely for medicinal and health reasons for his son, and not for his own self gratification.

When I first read his story, I was disgusted and immediately thought of abuse and molestation.  I then read through some of the debate and comments and how this father has sustained media shunning, radio bans, and internet censorship.  His primary goal was to open up to the public for debate on whether what he was doing was morally right, or wrong.

I would like to believe that Fayzal has his sons best interests at heart.  If I could make a suggestion, I would rather put it forward to him that he allows for a partial outsider to do the ‘massage’ for his son Mustafa, if his beliefs of necessity is so strong.  Other people have felt the same way, and put forward the suggestion, but Fayzal maintains that prostitution is illegal and he would rather not go that way.

In my own interest, I would like to hear your thoughts on this.  Please remember that a parent is involved here, and is seeking help and advice, not insults and confrontation, as I believe the poor man has had his fair share already.  If you disagree, do so with integrity.  If you would like to read more on this matter, I have just found an updated link.

Yet another controversial post from me on a Friday night.  I wonder if this will form a pattern.

Searches that lead (weird) people to this site

1.    Slipper hurt my foot.  (Well Shame, you poor person you.  Please explain to me how Mr. Google can assist you with this current problem?)

2.    How to get drunk girls home with me.  (Well, Sparky, this is how:  make sure your nails are clean, because no woman in her right mind will let you touch her anywhere with dirty nails.  Once that’s sorted, ensure your person looks presentable and that you are not a sex freak look-a-like.  Girls don’t really like that much.  How you actually get the drunk girl to your actual house I don’t actually know.  Maybe you could ask Jeffery Dahlmer, you sick Fuck!)

3.    Woman in KZN looking for audult fun.  (The place to go:  Teasers.  You can’t touch them much, but maybe if you sit on your hand long enough and call it Foxy, you might find some loving with a difference once you get back home.  Jerk off.  And its adult.  ADULT.)

4.    Famdamily.  (I have one of those too!  Except, mine is slightly bigger than yours and my dad can kick your dads ass.)

5.    Portable Pussy.  (It was a joke people, sheesh!  On a serious note, I thought only my internet mate and I were this insane, you don’t actually believe those things are real, do you?)

6.    Doing dead people hair for funerals.  (Wow, that must be a totally awesome job.  Not.)

7.    Things to do for boyfriends and girlfriends.  (Well now, one or two things you could try:  1.  kamasutra 2.  handcuffs.)

8.    Something dying inside of me.  (Dear god, did you eat a frog?  I hear those things can’t live long inside you. Get medical assistance, guy, like now!)

9.    Is my son doing crack?  (Jeez, lady, I dunno!  You should get one of those drug checker thingies.  That might help.)

10.   Going home to Jesus.  (Well, lets hope he cooked me an apple pie, yo.  He’s good at that.  I’m so glad I married Jesus. Sigh)

11.    I am busy spring cleaning (well good for you! You missed a spot, right there behind your anal tendancies)

12.   Fuck off stupid bitch (well now! didn’t your mother ever wash your mouth out with soap when you were so rude?)

13.   "i’m worth more than that" (you keep telling yourself that, sunshine)

14.   Rhyme sheens (leans? cleans? preens? its not that hard really)

15.   They make you lay on a cold hospital bed (You could always ask them to warm up the hospital sheets?)

16.   I am a boy and i was a girl (wow.  Now there’s some ingredients for confusion. Sorry for you buddy)

17.   Are you sarcastic? (Who, me?  Never. Evar. Like, never, ever, ever. Pssh.) 

18.   Wossa virgin?  (Someone who doesn’t like bumping uglies)

Nostalgic memories, anticipation & rememberings

I hate Christmas shopping.

I hate vaalies who come here and take over the bloody coast line and walk around looking like lobsters with peroxided hair saying ‘fank you’.

I hate having to curb my spending.

I hate not being able to park in my parking lot at work.

But I love Silly season.  I love the vibe.  I love going to a club and having to wait at the bar while talking to strangers and having drinks being bought for me.  I love the beach weather we’re having. I love being a local here where every second, third and fourth car has a GP registration.

I don’t even mind the ‘fank you’s’ that much.

Merry Christmas everybody.  I hope Santa spoils you rotten. 

I wish that I could share my love with two very special people who are no longer here with me.  Kiera and Andrew, I will be thinking of them both tomorrow. 

Screw you, you HTML riddled whore, you!

Taking the easy way out. Thats what I do, always have, hopefully always won’t. This blook writing business is an almost abomininational* pain in my rectum. Each website is so goddam negative!

• If you blah blah blah [insert some wrongdoing or another] you are not ready to write a book.
• Unless you can read this sentence and know what it means, you are not ready to write a book.
• Writing a book is hard work. (No shit sherlock, I thought it would be all roses and wine drops).
• If you are unpublished, you are likely to stay that way for a while, don’t hold your breathe.

Jaysus! Thank the pope (or my brothers for teasing me my whole life**) that I have thick skin or I would have stopped this bus right here.

* I made that word up. Three seconds ago.

** Which reminds me, my effing brother shot me with a paint ball gun last night, right on my arse. I teared up a bit, I won’t lie.