What the HELL has happened to my life?  I blink for a second and days go by.  Today was a good day.  David joined my team at aqua, we had back-to-back meetings, introductions, presentations, briefings, not enough coffee and way too little smoke breaks.  But it’s crunch time and I am so excited to have him on board, he has a mind of brilliance and a passion I’ve not yet seen met.

In other words, I’m just so fucking excited that I don’t have to carry all the weight by myself anymore. Hah.  Welcome to the rush ride, Dave, I hope we have many happy hours working together!

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.

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:

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.

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.

I am coming to you live, right from the glorious hotel room with a view of awesome, in the heart of beautiful Cape Town.  Now, I know that I once had the opportunity to live here but I’m so glad I don’t.  If I did I don’t think I would ever appreciate this beauty as much being a local than I do being a visitor.

16 July 2010

Standard Bank Group has launched a first of its kind credit card for women in South Africa. This reinforces the status of South African women who make the majority of buying decisions and have better financial records than most men. Called MyCard, it has been designed and conceived especially for women, taking into account the unique financial needs of this market as well as the financial status that women currently enjoy in South African society.

Um. Can I show you something?
Thanks.

Here:

Well, well, well. Look at that. One year later and my jew joke telling, blanket stealing, his hair brush using, personal goodies everywhere leaving, his house redecorating self still has a boyfriend. Who woulda thunk it? Not me, that’s for damn sure.

I really suspected he’d get over having the naughty, loud girl as his woman but apparently I’m wrong. How lucky for him!

[And I suppose, me].

So today sees the final day I will be working with my partner in crime, Jessie the SuperCopyGurl.  She’s off to bigger and better things, she says.  WAAAAAAAAAAAAH! SHE DOESN’T WANT TO WORK WITH ME ANY MORE.  SHE DOESN’T LOVE ME! I’ll try not take that personally.  Jessie I’m going to miss you my fliend.  So much.  No more gossiping, no more milliontyseven smoke breaks.  No more morning coffee to catch up on the 10 hours we hadn’t seen each other because we’d been, oh I dunno, sleeping?  Good luck dude.  Have fun and carry teh awesome with you.

I haven’t done this for a few years, because the last time I did @Cow_Grrrl and a few others went ahead and got me most of what was in my list and although I was beyond grateful, humble and amazed, I felt guilty.  This year, I’m only doing it because everyone who is attending my birthday party has asked me to and since they all read my blog it is the easiest place to put a list.

When I started blogging officially, oh about five or six years ago, I was lucky enough to earn my first two loyal South African readers.  Their online names were AngelsMind and Glugster.  With them came a few other readers, but Angel and Gluggie were two of the first online people I ever really considered friends offline.

Thanks to the awesome Ches for designing the header.

You can go to www.neontiger.co.za for all your design work – he rocks.

It’s still a work in progress obviously, but if you can think of anything that needs work, please do a line in the comments section

The blog looks whack, I know.  I kind of forgot to save everything as it was before I started fiddling.  My bad.

The good news is that I’m working on such a kiff new design it makes me happy in my special place.

In the meantime, I thought I’d send through a quick update:

• Went to the coast to see my family (Yay!)
• Jon has a broken thumb.  Snigger.  It’s his first broken bone ever! If we have kids one day, please pray that they take after his genes and not mine.  Poor little critters otherwise.  Anyway, he’s been very brave about the whole thing and rather proud of his fractured (“IN TWO PLACES!”) little fifth digit that I find myself almost constantly wanting to congratulate him.

One of the things my people usually say when they meet Jon is “but he’s so normal! How do you guys get it to work when you’re so different?”.  I suppose I should be slightly offended by that, since it really implies that I am, in essence, abnormal. But it’s the truth, I suppose.  We are different.  We are actually opposites in most things.  Where Jon is reliable and sensible, I fly off the handle and reach for the sky and jump ten steps ahead without thinking things through at all.  Jon is responsible, I’m responsive.  Jon is polite, I’m in your face.  Jon is socially well mannered and I am a freaking nut case in society.  Jon is friendly and insists on always thanking a host and shaking hands and saying goodbye to everyone at a party, I get drunk and loud and am quite fine with slipping out the back and sending a hung over message the next day saying “shot for the evening, was fun, have hangover – fuck you”. That’s us in public.  Polar opposites and confusing to everyone around us.

One of my lovely readers (thanks Sarah!) just emailed me to say she’d nominated me in the Cosmo blog awards.  Cool! So I promised I would let the rest of you know about it too.

If you’d like to nominate my blog (under Lifestyle would suit best I think) please go here: http://www.cosmopolitan.co.uk/your-life/cosmo-blog-awards/special

Thanks homies.  I love you forever and ever Amen.

xx

My littlest brother Wokkie is quite the character.  He’s flamboyant as all hell, but still remains to be a thuggish boys boy who plays rugby, tackles his mates like a demon, beats my older brothers at arm wrestling, and has taught himself to be a mini carpenter.  He makes the most amazing things with his hands.

He’s becoming a mini geek like I was at his age, except he’s already got almost as many friends on Facebook as I do, stalks this blog religiously and frequently tells me what I should say on Twitter.  He’s completely addicted to Bid or Buy and whenever I need help, I will speak to him on who to trust and who not to trust when it comes to buying on the site.

“

Photo credit: Jenty: click on the image to see more

It was the anniversary of mine, Goosey’s & Exmi’s first 27Dinner together.  The one where ExMi and I came out of the interwebs and into real life as a whole, not just for a few select people.  It was also the first time that the girls at the back of the bus really realised that we’d be friends forever and ever Amen.

Fuckballs.  It’s been a hard week.  Last night I got home to find my gate refused to open.  I stood for half an hour fiddling with with and eventually got it to open just in time for me to shout a “FUCK YES!” in celebration and it stopped half way and closed again.  By this time, I was shivering in my bones, had a runny nose from the cold, starving in my ribs and just wanted heat and quiet time to finish off a presentation due early this morning.  Grumpy as all hell, I phoned Jon and begged him to let me come over.  He wasn’t even there, but by the time I used my key to open his front door, I immediately felt my body start to relax.

So it’s been just over two weeks now.  Two weeks of 2% low fat milk, wholeweat seed loaf bread, (almost) no cheese, a lot of frigging fruit and veg and too many salads for one person at any given time on God’s green earth, and daily shakes conaining yogurt, diced fruit & water mixed in with powder.  Two weeks of sleeping badly because my body has never had so much energy.

Two weeks of walking up and down following the soccer gees.

My friends mom died.  Her daughter’s EveGranny.  Another friend is going through a divorce because she was cheated on.   Jon and I are both getting sick, my house mate’s are in Margate so I’m home alone, I’m missing my family a whole bunch and I’m really mad about certain people in my life.

But the good news is that my country is under spot light and for once it’s not for Apartheid or crime or corruption or something weird one of our leaders did.  It’s because, aside from being awesome, we’ve delivered the World Cup in a top notch, professionally impressive manner.

Aside from being hounded by the Herbalife rep daily to demand a list of what I put in my belly, I think it’s going pretty well. I have to give credit to my kiffsticks boyfriend though, his will power is amazing. He looks at me like I’ve crawled out of cheese if I suggest we eat anything other than what we’re allowed to, like a piece of cheese for example.

Casey Monteiro. What a lucky dude! Casey has been chosen as South Africa’s social media. But you can still be part of the experience, as a wannabe. Which is almost as cool, but not really. Hey, at least you’ll know what’s going on and live your life vicariously through Casey.

• Join the Kia Facebook Fan Page and be part of The Kia Experience which continues through the 2010 FIFA World Cup ™
• Follow @KiaMotorsSA to see Casey’s updates and to find out about his experience.

This mail just in from one of my readers.  I lolled.  Maybe the Jenkin sisters can advise this young lass a little better.  Feel free to chip in too, even if you’re not a Jenkin!

So I was reading your blog the other day (which is something I actually do on a regular basis – it is hilarious, insightful and very well written!) and I came across the Coffee Blowjob. Now it was mentioned that this is only to be used when drowning in shit. Well I am! And I just wanted to confirm that my assumption that its just like a regular one but with coffee is in fact correct.

It’s coming up this weekend. Well, he actually turns 30 on Thursday, so today and tomorrow are the last days he can call himself a young spring chicken.

But I need advice.  I’ve ordered his pressie ages ago, but it looks like it’ll only be delivered after his birthday which is very fokken annoying.

Anyway – what can I get him in the mean time?  Something small but epic and cool, just so he has something to open on the day.

This is what I have a blog for people, lend me your ears.  And assvice.  Discuss.

It’s this:

The Kia Experience is a global campaign that will see 12 bloggers from across the world visit South Africa for 4 days of absolute adventure. This includes attending a 2010 FIFA World Cup ™ game and test driving Kia’s newest – hot off the production line – “mean machine” to Magaliesburg.  Figure you have the testicular fortitude (or the ovarian audacity) to take a crack at The Kia Experience?  Hell, they made it easy as pie.

One of the things I love about Social Media is that you can be crazy and get away with it.  One brand that has completely covered that is Steri Stumpie.

Their radio adverts crack me up – they’re a play on the South African judicial system and politics.  With cries of “Vote Marshmallow!”, demands of “more space for Bubblegum!”,  chants of “uStawberry-wam, uStrawberry-wam!” it’s an ad that makes me giggle.  Their Social Media skills are fantastic too, on Facebook they have over 22 000 followers and they use their platforms wisely too – not only are they spreading brand awareness, but people are interacting with them too.  For the twits out there, here is their Twitter handle where they host Steri treasure hunts and they have a blog too, which always impresses me.

On Friday night Jon insisted on dragging me away from my laptop so we could go to dinner and a movie.  I tied up my hair, put on some shoes and pronounced myself ready.  Ten minutes later as we arrived to wait in the queue for parking, I grumbled about this being a bad idea, work needing to be done, not in the mood for people, blah blah blah.

Jon has a miraculous way of turning a blind eye and a deaf ear for things he doesn’t want to acknowledge.  It’s quite annoying, but at the same time – he knows that’s the best way to handle me when I’m in a mood.  Just ignore her until she’s ready to talk, then it’ll all be okay.

I am very happy with where my life is going these days. I have a permanent job that I absolutely LOVE doing, and willingly work 12 hour days mostly. It’s exhausting and stressful and there is loads of pressure on me, but a few things have gone right and it looks like expanding the Social Media department at Aqua is a go. Yay me! I’m also lucky enough to have the best chick in the world joining me in becoming the second half of the team, I couldn’t be more stoked.

Yesterday sucked.

There was the work stuff which made me turn into a little ball of stress.

There was the traffic stuff which made me two hours late for dinner plans.

There was the boyfriend stuff which made me giggle like a buffoon.

Me: *flops on Jon’s bed, clothes and all* Please help me undo my boots, I’m too tired.

Jon: Of course my love, you just lie there and I’ll do everything for you, don’t lift a finger.

Me: Okay.

I know, I know – I’ve been terribly quiet, I’m sorry. Things have just been so hectic! Had my family up for the weekend, it never ceases to amaze me just how hectic they are. In the last few days we did the following:

1. Went to JHB Zoo. Have a few blisters on my feet as a reminder. Mein got, that place is enormous! I walked 5km’s in my new grey boots. Not the smartest move ever. Max the gorilla was particularly awesome, though. I got attacked by chicken – it mugged me for my cigarette, I swear to god.

So this morning I showered in darkness and to add my bit in saving our planet I didn’t smoke on the way to work.  Woot.  Not sure if it saved a centimetre of Earth, but they say for every smoke not smoked, you add 3 minutes to your life span.  So there’s always that.

• Oprah Magazine contacts me, schedules a feature and a photo shoot, I get all excited, they cancel at the last minute.
• WTF Conference refers to me as a Social Media “specialist” and enlists me to be one of their speakers, I get excited, they cancel at the last minute.
• Another magazine contacts me, proposes a column scribed by yours truly, I get all excited, they don’t bother getting back to me.

I’m over it. From now on I’m saying no. NO, NO, NO, NO TO YOU, NO DEFINITELY TO YOU, AND NO TO YOU!

Serious. I was. I used to ballonné and pirouette my way along the barre, in front of a mirror and on stage. I even won a trophy for being the best umbrella swirler in a tutu to the tune of Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head. That’s how awesome I was.

But then life happened, I grew up a little, hung with the wrong crowd and thought karate would be more fun. But other girls didn’t. They stuck to eating lettuce leaves and training hours every day to follow their dreams. And those girls went on to become part of Cape Town City Ballet, who help other little girls just like I once was to learn the art and form of all things ballet.

It’s always annoying when people hear about my phobia.  It’s usually in a food situation that goes something like “oh, Sheena, aren’t you having any prawns?” as if I’m mortally offending them by being difficult.  I’m not being difficult.  If you’re having a seafood braai, great for you! But don’t expect me to arrive with a smile on my face.  Or even at all.

Cath gives me some news that is in no way related to me at all, except for some weapons I’d like to use that I keep in my back shed, and I react by having my kidney & bladder say a big “hello, fuck you, here’s a kick in the shins”.

And the thing is, only her and I get why this blog post is hysterical.

So, um, ya. Twin powers activate? Thanks Cath.

You bitch.

6 years ago today…

• I was a mommy
• My daughter and I were in a hospital in Durban
• I was more terrified than I’d ever been
• Was the last day of naivety
• A piece of my heart was taken away

I don’t like April fools day, It’s a horrible day to remember, it’s when my daughter started dying.

I’m okay, promise. Just needed to put these words down.

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!

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!

1. Briget is running a cool little initiative. Basically, you pay her R260 and you get advertising for three years. Your money will go towards being 1 of 500 donations, all in the name of her buying a newer, better car for her family. Her blog has been around for years, and she has a sound business in Durbs that is reputable too. I’ve met this funny woman, and she’s so worth the support. Go help her out, please.

Upon meeting her, I promptly shat myself.  She’s petite and lady-like and gorgeously groomed and well manicured.  She speaks impeccably and has an amazing command of English, even though it’s only her 2nd language.  Put mildly, I was fucking terrified of her.

It’s about meeting Jon’s parents.  You can read the rest here.

At 24 years old, fresh out of varsity you have so many opportunities that lie ahead and exciting choices that are ready to be made. For Niki, his bike is sitting in the corner and beginning to rust, his job applications are sitting in a dust pile on the floor and his memories of what it feels like to be ‘normal’ seem to have gotten lost, forever. There is no such thing as hope. There is no such th

ing as positive thinking. Anyone else would have given up by now, but Niki holds his head up high, smiles and says “I am going to make the best of things, while I am still here”.

Thanks to Gtribe, who kindly sent Jon and I comp tickets to watch The Shaolin Monks Wheel of Life Kung Fu show at Monte Casino last night.

I raced home to feed the felines, hop in the shower and chuck on some semi decent clothes fit for the Teatro theatre, I was really excited – I love live performances. When I got to Jon’s house, he was already dressed and waiting for me, with a (woolies assisted) home cooked meal (his first, made especially for me). We had a quick dinner, he had a mild heart attack while I smoked on the balcony and delayed his usual Hurry Up & Wait strategy.

On Thursday night I cracked the nod to go to MiBar Martini’s launch. MiBar is a new initiative by Liquid Chefs and let me tell you, it’s fucking awesome. From moving walls* to interactive tables** to really hot barmen who make killer cocktails, this place is going places. Metaphorically speaking.

The launch was unique, fun & made me look forward to attending events there, or just popping in for a few drinks with my mates. Well done to Mango-OMC for hosting the party and to the various sponsors of the evening.

I’m a pickerer.  I pick at everything.  Loose hairs, skin, scabs, fluff on shirts, other people’s persons, you name it, I pick at it.  My face is usually in a bad state because I’ll find one tiny little mark and pick, pick, pick until its an angry mountain of shame shining off my chin.

At the check in counter on Friday evening, the stupid woman accused me of being pregnant because I walked up to her with my bag covering my tummy.  She instantly killed my flying mojo and I found myself sucking in my tummy until I touched down in Durban an hour later.

I beat my brothers by sixty points at 10pin bowling.  Sure, one of them has been shot in the brain before and the other was about a millionty seven beers in, but I beat them fair and square.

I’d love to say “small packages” but I’m not really small, weight wise…

This week I’ve had a few surprise visits from people online who’ve heard I’m at Aqua now.  Some of them I’d met before, briefly, others I’d only interacted with online.  What’s prominent in most of the people I meet in person for the first time is their surprise at my size.

Based on my musings of today, at my new job:

• Know: it’s hard, but try as hard as you can to NOT walk into the concrete pillar in front of an open office of Developers
• Simultaneously: don’t forget about that bloody step in the kitchen that you tripped over twice already
• The kettle: is pretty godamned hot, remember that
• Ordering stationary: a bit of a mind fuck
• Expectations: have none, any you do have will either be eliminated the minute you’re through the door, or exceeded by lunch time
• New faces: you’ll recognize some, remember none of their names

I managed to get hold of the clip.  Yay!

Have a listen here.

You guys were cool enough to tell me the weird things your boydude does, so its only fair that I share too [unlucky Jon!]:

1. When watching a movie together, he will insist that is isn’t falling asleep despite his eyes literally crossing over.  And when I don’t give up accusing him he frowns at me and then glares at the TV in a great attempt to frown his eyes awake again.  The poor, squint & stubborn bastard.

Confused and inappropriately naïve, Jon claimed to not know what I meant.  “But it’s seven AM in the bloody morning on a Saturday!”  to which I replied, “ya, well, nature waits for no man”.  After some whimpering, a lot of mumbled excuses and comments of “but can’t you just go quickly?  I’ll put the kettle on while you’re out!” I yanked the door open in frustration and gave him The Look.

one of the crappy things about running nerdmag is that with the awesome competitions like the blackberry one we did last year, and the two nerdies competitions, there are supertastic prizes up for grabs and loads of exposure to the winner, which is all fair and well until your name is Sheena and you happen to be the editor of said magazine because it means that even if you stand on your head and blow blue bubbles out your arse you don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell to claim the prize as your own.

On Friday night I was so amped to be going to Sandi & her man’s birthday shingig at their house, where there would be fire dancing, chilling out in the garden & a few friends to wax lyrical with.  But then Jon said he wasn’t feeling so hot and I decided to stop ignoring my horrible headache and we canceled.  I think I was out like a light the minute I put my head on Jon’s lap, on the couch, by 9pm and woke up to Jon snoring above me.  Yay us – not yet thirty but in bed before 10pm on a Friday?  Lahoozahers.

One of the reasons I love my mate ExMi is because she’s a Durbanite at heart, like me.  Although we’ve both settled into Hoburg life, our roots will forever remain that which is humid.

Whenever I go to the coast I pick up the lingo within a split second of being around my homies, this is something I noticed over my holiday in December.  Some of the things I have had to explain to Jon go as follows:

Rash: Stop rashin’ me, bru. <- you happen to be irritating the bejesus out of me.  Halt.

It’s been a bit of a journey, hasn’t it?  I decided last year while living in Glenwood with my awesome friend Cath, that this whole tweeting and blogging thing was too fun to do all the time without getting paid.  The only problem was that in Durban, the market just wasn’t big or futuristic enough to see that I should’ve been employed & deployed into the industry, to tweet my way to into the hearts of brand, company & business lovers.

Hi! I’ve written a bit about The Nerdies 2010 on NerdMag.  Please hop on over there to read it and see if you can help in anyway:

http://moralfibre.co.za/nerdmag/2010/01/20/the-nerdies-2010/#comment-1229

Comments are welcome!

CLICK ON IMAGES FOR BIGGER PICS

But I wouldn’t listen.  I insisted it was a good idea.  A way to break the LSD trip colour scheme going on in my bathroom, the solution to calming people down after they’d been attacked by the bright hues when in the little wash-up room.  ”It’ll be calm, peaceful and serene in the bedroom, party in the bathroom” I said with utter confidence.

“But I’ll have to go barefoot and wash my feet before stepping into your bedroom” said Jon.

Well, well, well, would you look at that – it’s two thousand and zen! I trust this finds you all well and happy and blahblahblah, let’s all win the fucking lottery!

I’m unemployed.  That makes it, oh, the (third time?) in as many years.  I’m typing this off Jon’s computer at his place because my mac is bust.  His keyboard is screwed up, split down the middle and seperated into a wannabe mexican wave type thing,  I’m typing this having to look at the bloody keystrokes, man! I havent had to do that since high school.  Fail, if you’re reading this Jon (and I know you are – hi honey pie *kiss kiss*) YOUR KEYBOARD SUCKS DONKEY BALLS!

to announce that Nerd Mag is back in business

We’re totally proud to now be affiliated with Moral Fibre magazine, who kindly invited Nerd Mag to join forces.

Please follow this link to see our new look!

click for bigger image

I wrote a post on Moral Fibre about how impressed I am with them.

Go read here.

Some of the freelance writing I do involves transcription work for my company, but paid as overtime.  One of the current projects I’m working on involve Life logs.

The kind where people are paid to write hourly reports on what they are currently doing (obviously not including logging “I’m writing this report” because that would just be silly. Kinda like when you speak to someone online and you ask them what they’re doing and the answer is: “I’m speaking to you”.  I mean honestly- harvest a brain, dumbass).  Anyway.  So people are logging their hourly events, right.  And my job is to decipher what they’re actually doing when they say:

I woke up the other day to a raging pain in my ass.  Literally.  Now, I’m no stranger to pains in the ass what with having to wrestle the maid in order to do my laundry, or growing up with 5 younger siblings.  But a literal pain in my ass is, well, a pain in the ass.

Yay!

I need writers.  For free, but.  Anything you’d like to write about as long as it fits in with the online world and/or technology.  If you’re keen, comment here or mail me at sheenagates @ gmail . com

So on Monday I was one of a few bloggers invited to attend the launch of the new concept from FNB and eBucks who have pretty much transformed their eBucks card into a debit swipe payment system that allows users to pay for fuel.  What a novel idea!

To celebrate their 9th birthday, I met Jessica Yellin from eBucks at an Engen garage where there were loads of muffins, coffee and snackies to listen to Lezanne Human who is the CEO demonstrate how simple it is to purchase petrol, diesel or oil from any participating Engen garages.  What’s really cool is that it’s all basically for free.  Everytime you swipe your FNB card, you earn eBucks.  The more eBucks you earn, the more free stuff you can gain.  Now add food for your car to that and we have a winner, baby!

1. Why anyone would want to stick an iguana up their guava (Tiff retold stories of what she’s seen in Thailand)
2. What possesses any woman in their sound mind to wax their vaginus
3. Or bleach their brown eyed inverted turd twinker
4. When someone says ‘thank you’ why do I automatically reply ‘it’s my pleasure’? Most of the time it really, really wasn’t
5. How the New Moon soundtrack was not released the day I was born.  In love with this album, I am.  Truly, madly, deeply

Cath will tell you all about my unintentional love affair with one way roads.  It’s something chronic.  Except, it’s not half as funny as usual when it’s 12 o’clock at night and I’m screaming down the wrong end of a one way which comes to a dead end in the middle of fucking HILLBROW!  Hillbrow!  Where hookers go to overdose on crack.

Looking back, I probably shouldn’t have second guessed the GPS when it told me to go left.  Looking forward, I’ll definitely listen to it and go left next time.  Looking above, I am so grateful I had pepper spray in my handbag should anything have gone wrong.  Looking down, I really like this shade of pink on my toenails.

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

I’m so pissed off.

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

16 Days of Abuse. [Part One]

I was 17, pregnant & stuck in a relationship I didn’t want to be in, but felt I had to.  I had run away with this man, chosen him in an ultimatum my mother had given me, and moved 8 hours away without telling anyone.  We left in the middle of the night and I clearly remember my best friend Britt phoning me in tears when she’d found out I was living in Jo’burg.

“You’re making a mistake, Sheen, you know you are” were her words.  “But I love him, and he worships me like no one else has ever done” was my reply.

You, so small, so great

You, so loud, so internal

You, so loved, so judged

You, so brave, so needing to be saved

You, so soft, so hard

You, so open, so closed

You, so stubborn, so easy

You, so witty, so pretty

You, so scared, so alone

You, so cherished, so discarded

You, so loyal, so fearce

You, so lovely, so loved by me

I hate that this was your moment, and it was taken away.

I hate that after all these years, he still acts this way.

only, he’s dead.

Still thinking of you Drew.  Not daily anymore, but probably once or twice a month.  Hah, you’d roll in your grave. Asshole.

/nostalgic surreality/

Oh boo, this is the only photo of me in The Cat In The Hat outfit.  Next to me is my boyfriend person, dressed as Indiana Jones.  They didn’t even get his whip in man, what a fail.  And trust me, the whip was awesome.  But so were my 3/4 black suspender stockings.  And how’s the moleymoleymole type zit on my chin on the right there?  Yussie, boet. But hey, they had balloons.  Had to get those in there, right?  Riiiiiight. Anyway, CC – this photie is for you honey, since you keep nagging about it.  Sorry its not a full length one so you could perve over my luscious curves.  Hee hee.

So Guy is running a competition on Lowveld Net offering a weekend away for two, all expenses paid at White River Lodge. Now, I dunno about you but bloody hell I need a weekend away filled with pampering, wine, chocolates & the bushveld.  I’ve been whining about missing the bush for ages now, and short of setting up a tent in our overgrown garden at home, by god I WILL get me some bush.

So this is a shameless plug for myself, feel sorry for me Guy – it’s been a busy year! Lemme come get spoiled in Mpumalanga man!

So I’m trying to get a few people together for a dinner.  8 people coming from all over parts of Gauteng.

I need help.  What’s the most central place between Centurion, Rivonia, Fourways & Northcliff?  Please answer quick – I’m trying to whoreganise here!

So last week when asked if I had my outfit ready for Jon’s year end function I replied with a resounding and mock offended, “Of course I do, man! It’s been ready for ages!” Except, in truth, it really wasn’t.  Not even a little bit.  I planned to dress as that dude up there in the hat, and Jon was awesome enough to even find me one, all I had to do was chuck an outfit together, right?  Wrong.

This beautiful face now has a permanent ball and chain, named Arfur.  Or Abeltjie.  Or Arthur if you really want to be prim and proper, but that doesn’t happen very often in my family.  Ask Jon, who promptly turned the hue of a beetroot in our family kitchen when my mother loudly and randomly assured him “don’t worry, Jon, you’re not the only one without a foreskin here, Wokkie was circumsized when he was little too”.  I swear to God, she said that.  In the kitchen.  In front of about a hundred guests.  My poor boyfriend, he did so well.  And he’s still alive and well, back in Joburg with me after over 72 hours with my family.

Just head on over to http://nerdmag.co.za/avg-giveaway/ and follow the guide lines.

• Playing paintball whilst Joburg gets more soaked than an English teabag is surprisingly fun.  Especially with a bunch of South African coconuts who had me in stitches for almost six hours.
• Wearing Bergen‘s pj’s after I showered in his shower after playing paintball whilst Joburg gets more soaked than an English teabag was very comfortable.  Cos I know you were wondering.  Yes, you in the back with your finger up your nose.
• My one foot has shrunk.  All of a sudden, my right footed handed shoes are all too big for me and I fall out of them.  Especially my new purple pumps of awesomeness.  What the eff, dudes?

Don't you know
They're talkin' bout a revolution
It sounds like a whisper
Don't you know
They're talkin' about a revolution
It sounds like a whisper
While they're standing in the welfare lines
Crying at the doorsteps of those armies of salvation
Wasting time in the unemployment lines
Sitting around waiting for a promotion

Don't you know
They're talkin' bout a revolution
It sounds like a whisper

Poor people gonna rise up
And get their share
Poor people gonna rise up
And take what's theirs

Don't you know you better run, run, run,
Oh I said you better run, run, run, run, run

Finally the tables are starting to turn
Talkin' bout a revolution
Finally the tables are starting to turn
Talkin' bout a revolution
Talkin' bout a revolution
While they're standing in the welfare lines
Crying at the doorsteps of those armies of salvation
Wasting time in the unemployment lines
Sitting around waiting for a promotion

Don't you know
They're talkin' bout a revolution
It sounds like a whisper

And finally the tables are starting to turn
Talkin' bout a revolution
Yes, finally the tables are starting to turn
Talkin' bout a revolution
Talkin' bout a revolution

  
Download now or listen on posterous

Comedy – Cheating boyfriend.mp3 (2575 KB)

Don't you love the way he goes "…I'm kidding!" followed by a nervous laugh.

Only one thing to do in this situation, girls: 

Rusty teaspoon, testicles, alignment.

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

1.     The elbow is the strongest point on your body. If you are close enough to use it, do!

2.     If a robber asks for your wallet and/or purse, DO NOT HAND IT TO HIM. Toss it away from you, chances are that he is more interested in your wallet and/or purse than you will go for that instead of you. RUN LIKE MAD IN THE OTHER DIRECTION!

3.     If you are ever thrown into the trunk of a car, kick out the back tail lights and stick your arm out the hole and start waving like crazy.  The driver won't see you, but everybody else will. This has saved lives.

An email sent to Kalahari.net using their contact form.

Hi,

I have waited a week and two full days now for my order above.  After 3 phone calls, I'm reassured each time that my order is "on its way today".  Each day I check the status on your "My Order" section and nothing changes.  This is absolute hogwash, I've paid for a service advertising 24hr delivery and its not accurate!

I supplied an address in the CBD of Joburg, as far as I'm concerned, you cannot get more convenient than that.

As a blogger, online magazine owner and user of a Twitter account, I will be making sure that everyone I know boycots your brand from now on and uses one of your (many!) competitors, because this service is intolerable.

Yours sincerely,

Sheena Gates
NERDMAG EDITOR
082 *** ****

********************

Now lets see how long they take to respond…

What makes a mother?  Falling pregnant?  Having the baby? Bringing it home and changing nappies, bottles and having the chore of cleaning up after yourself when you’re done?  Or is it more the fact that you’ve gone through however many months of pregnancy, bonded with your child, taught it life lessons and how to love?

What about when you bend down one day to tie your child’s shoe laces and you’re stopped because they’re “big enough now” to do it themselves, does that make you a mother?

It started with this:

And then slowly moved along with this:

Then I had issues with my old blog, I was still such a noob back then:

(Please note, these days I’ve taught HER how to do stuff.  Okay, albeit on WordPress mostly, of which I’ve become a total blog whore geek)

Suddenly, the revelation dawned:

One day, I had a dream:

And Cath had a comment:

I’ve pretty much gotten into the swing of things when it comes to all things geek networky here in Joburg.  I’ve attended 3 Jozi 27Dinners now, and I feel I’m allowed to have an honest opinion on them, since I’ve spent enough time drinking the cocktails and lending my ear to hear what the speakers have had to say in the past. Most of the time I was totally impressed and in love with Team27 for their organisational skills of awesomeness.  Last night, not so much.

On Friday night I looked forward to going home for the first time in weeks while it was still actually light and I didn’t need a spot light to get into my house (the globes are burnt out along my pathway) and then chilling to the max.  We’ve* had such a busy couple of weeks that all I wanted was a quiet night in with my poor neglected and only-child cat, who has started growing up all by herself**.

Richard is someone from Cape Town.  I met him online about two years ago and for some strange reason (and it really is strange, because he’s an odd fellow) he and I just clicked.  We tried the romance thing for a few weeks but soon came to the conclusion that we both sucked at it and gave up.

I heard her before I saw her.  Well, her music anyway.  And not just any music mind you – oh no, it was Cher.  Just Like Jesse James.  On full blast, her head shaking with the temerity of her singing.  I duck my head down, hurriedly cross the pedestrian walk and load my bags into the boot of the car before any more than the small crowd of people start staring at me and my unknown mother clad in Paris Hilton sunglasses and new hair colour.  Gawd, honestly – she always has to be the loudest most unconventional person around – I don’t know anyone else like her (except for me, obviously).

Sheena Gates, NerdMag Editor. http://shebee.co.za / http://nerdmag.co.za. Sent from my BlackBerry.

Posted via email from shebee’s posterous

Psychotic cat.  I have one.  She especially becomes psychotic at inopportune times.  Ask my boyfriend…

Anyway, I’m trying to potty train her.  Her litter box KILLS me.  The smell, the mess, the sight.  I hate it.  I’ve been told to slowly move it closer to the door and then eventually outside, but if I do one of the other million psychotic animals EAT HER POOH!  It’s disgusting, really.  If I had known this when Kerri offered the sweet little kitten of innocence to me, I would’ve punched her in the head. So dear readers of wisdom – what the eff do I do?

Voicemail message goes off.  Dial 121.  Listen.  Wee with laughter:

11 year old Wokkie, my babiest brother:

SHEEN! SHEEN?!  It’s your voicemail thingie isn’t it? Oh no.  Please call me back I have to tell you somethingitsreallyimportantyoucallmeback!

In the background I hear my moms voice: Warrick! What are you doing? I’ve just bought you that bloody airtime, stop wasting it!

Wokkie: MOM! I have to tell Sheen something urgently, man.  Right now, but she’s not answering.  I bet you she’s forgotten her phone on silent again.

Mom: Put the phone down so she can call you back, chop.

• My birth day is this weekend.  I love my birth days.
• My crazy psychotic cat got herself stuck on the roof beam again.  Thanks Giant, she learnt that from you. I had to climb ontop of my fridge to rescue her.
• My bed has an awesome warm electric blanket thingie.
• It is pink.
• My dude someone boyf man-friend person has made me smile with an hour long phone call every night since I last saw him.
• I don’t know if you know, but it’s my birth day this weekend.  Just saying.

We all know that in today’s society the accepted form of communication is via FaceBook, email, twitter or IM clients such as Google Chat, MSN or skype.  And we all know that it’s perfectly acceptable to meet someone either in reality or online, add each other across all forms of social media platforms and stalk the hell out of whoever you’re interested in.  And well all know that in doing these things, you use this form of communication “to get to know each other better”. 

Catching up with Cath on Sunday at her place of awesomeness was just fantastic – I’ve missed her so much.  And within seconds I had to use her bathroom with the door open, for old times sake, while she chatted to me and we gossiped and caught up and laughed and cried and sang and sat outside and reminisced*** of days when Cath would spell check my writing, remote karaoke and buying milk. She also pointed out how we’re both living our dreams of last year this time. We always knew we were awesome, Cathcath, now we’re proving it  I told you! I told you that night of the laundry fight**** we would get over the beans on toast phase and sit and laugh over wine.  And what have we just done this weekend?

Life is great at the moment.  I have made wonderful friends here in Hoburg, work sucks but I’ve started a new business*, settling down into my routine and generally just feeling like I’ve found my path.

Sheena Gates, NerdMag Editor. http://shebee.co.za / http://nerdmag.co.za. Sent from my BlackBerry.

Posted via email from shebee’s posterous

It’s only my brother who can get shot in the head twice, through the brain, through the jaw, through the chin, through the chest, through a lung, and still comfort us when we’re frantic at his bedside while he’s fighting for his life in ICU. 

It’s only him who can make me, the girl who never cries, sob like a baby when he tells me that while lying on the ground after said shooting, his lungs collapsing and his chest cavity filling with blood so fast that it took every ounce of strength in him to just breathe, that he almost gave up.  Until he saw each and every one of our faces in his mind and knew that he couldn’t.  

It was when I was standing in the aisle of the Spar this morning, staring at the rows and choices of diapers, that it struck me.  I’m not who I was five years ago.

Five years ago, I’d been a NotMom for a year already.  I was still lost.  I was still angry at God, at other moms, at men, at shopping centres for having those huge aisles dedicated to baby goods that I couldn’t force myself to walk through. 

So, I was told that I am “unflatteringly forgetful” today.  How awesome, thanks fucker – take a number and get in line of where all the other people in my life missed my sense of awesomeness  and unique ability to conveniently misplace certain details I should remember but don’t because I’m TOO BUSY BEING AWESOME!

As the eldest child in my family, often the responsibility falls on my head to act as mediator with some other member of the family.  It’s annoying as hell, but also safer because if, for instance, I let Dazz do the talking directly to Wok one of them would come off second best, a wedgie and a few noogies later – either way somebody gonna get a hurt real bad*.

Today, I remember my own daddy who helped create me.

Today, I remember my step daddy who helped raise me.

Today, I remember the forefathers of my fathers who are no longer around to see me.

Today, I remember the father of my Kiera, even though he really doesn’t deserve to be remembered.

Today, I remember Granny Ross, who passed away in the early hours of this morning.

Today, I remember the process of my childhood into growing up.

Today, I remember the people I have lost, loved and laughed with.

My step gran was diagnosed with Muscular Distrophy in the early Seventies.  She managed to stay out of a wheel chair for fifteen years longer than the doctors predicted.  She was never able to have any biological children so she adopted two, my step daddy Kev and his sister Lindsay.  Most of you know that I come from a huge family.  There are seven of us kids, and I’m lucky enough to have four parents.  Those parents each have their own parents, and we’ve cut down from My nanna (deceased) and Oupa (estranged) and my Grandfather (estranged) and Grandma (deceased) and Grandad Ross (deceased) to Granny Dora (the step granny I speak of here) and Grandpa Geoff (alive and kicking).

Look at the difference in size between Tiger the dog and Destiny the horse. Sheena Gates, NerdMag Editor. http://shebee.co.za / http://nerdmag.co.za. Sent from my BlackBerry.

Posted via email from shebee’s posterous

A quick dash to the garage down the road for smokes, bread and milk this morning has proven to add to my list of embarrassing moments I wish had never happened.  Or, “wish-I’d-used-my-brain-for-a-godamned-second-before-reacting”, but whatevs.

So it’s freezing today.  Raining, misty and about 3 degrees outside.  I shit you not.  The car windows were frosted this morning.  If I had any of my two previously okay looking nipples left, they would’ve called quits and said ‘fuck this for a sad joke’ and bungee jumped themselves right off my boobs to plummet to an untimely self imposed death. 

 Took my dad to the shopping  centre the other day to buy some new shoes (he is  84)…
  
We decided to grab a bite at  the food court.
 
I noticed he was watching a  teenager sitting next to him
 
The teenager had spiked hair  in all different colours: green, red, orange, and blue. 
 
My dad kept staring at  him.
 
The teenager would look and  find him staring every time. 
 
When the teenager had had  enough, he sarcastically asked: 
 
‘What’s the matter old  man, never done anything wild in your life?’
 
Knowing my Dad, I quickly  swallowed my food so that I would not choke on his response; knowing he  would have a good one. 
 
And in classic style he did  not bat an eye in his response: 
 
‘Got  stoned once and shagged a peacock. I was just wondering if you were my  son.’
 

Haaaai!

I’m still here I promise. Just having a bit of a manic time trying stretch myself over three million and seventy projects.

I did a car chase the other day. Was fun!

Um, ya.

Okthxbi.

Sheena Gates, NerdMag Editor. http://shebee.co.za / http://nerdmag.co.za. Sent from my BlackBerry.

Posted via email from shebee’s posterous

Sheena Gates, NerdMag Editor. http://shebee.co.za / http://nerdmag.co.za. Sent from my BlackBerry.

Posted via email from shebee’s posterous

Sheena Gates, NerdMag Editor. http://shebee.co.za / http://nerdmag.co.za. Sent from my BlackBerry.

Posted via email from shebee’s posterous

Seasea and I all camped in front of the heater, chilling and researching for nerdmag.
 
Sheena Gates, NerdMag Editor. http://shebee.co.za / http://nerdmag.co.za. Sent from my BlackBerry.

Posted via email from shebee’s posterous

Sheena Gates, NerdMag Editor. http://shebee.co.za / http://nerdmag.co.za. Sent from my BlackBerry.

Posted via email from shebee’s posterous

Sheena Gates, NerdMag Editor. http://shebee.co.za / http://nerdmag.co.za. Sent from my BlackBerry.

Posted via email from shebee’s posterous

Waking up to a burglar thief in the form of a geese is never fun.  Or funny.  Especially not when my cat gets a fright and clings to my boobs with its claws for comfort and then launches itself at the fowl ten times its size and I have to leap out of bed, semi naked, find a broom and chase the horrid thing out of my cottage.

Yum. Not. Sheena Gates, NerdMag Editor. http://shebee.co.za / http://nerdmag.co.za. Sent from my BlackBerry.

Posted via email from shebee’s posterous

@richardcoote. Yip. Sheena Gates, NerdMag Editor. http://shebee.co.za / http://nerdmag.co.za. Sent from my BlackBerry.

Posted via email from shebee’s posterous

There are a few things I’ve been meaning to tell you guys lately.  I just never get around to it because this real life thing is far too time consuming for blogging convenience.  Urgh, it’s such a pain.

I’ve moved into my own cottage at last.  It’s a lot smaller than I remember and the kitchen and the bathroom suck.  Okay, so does the bedroom – there are not enough plugs, I’m used to running a sub-station in my room what with all my girlie things needing to be charged and electrocuted.  Actually, the whole place is a bit of a wreckage, but fuck it – I’ll make do and make it my own.  As soon as I get my things here from Durban.  The “cottage” will become “home” as soon as my personal things get put up.  Like the photo frame of a million photos of me.  And all my perfumes and throw pillows and Sharks Forever paraphernalia

I’m so in love with her. Even tho my skin is shred in places.
Sheena Gates, NerdMag Editor. http://shebee.co.za / http://nerdmag.co.za. Sent from my BlackBerry.

Posted via email from shebee’s posterous

…a lot of things that I used to argue with. Hell, I still do even though you’re no longer around. But the one thing that always got stuck is when you’d say “SheBear, I love you – let the world love you, too, stop hiding from it”. Its probably the only thing you and my mom would’ve ever agreed on.

Something else you’d lecture me about was to challenge myself, test my fear, test my emotions, follow my heart. At the time I argued that I did do that, but in retrospect, I never did. Even now I battle.

Cocktails, waters and lunch is going down SO well.
Sheena Gates, NerdMag Editor. http://shebee.co.za / http://nerdmag.co.za. Sent from my BlackBerry.

Posted via email from shebee’s posterous

Ahem. I wonder if I’ll be bucked off. Sheena Gates, NerdMag Editor. http://shebee.co.za / http://nerdmag.co.za. Sent from my BlackBerry.

Posted via email from shebee’s posterous

Sheena Gates, NerdMag Editor. http://shebee.co.za / http://nerdmag.co.za. Sent from my BlackBerry.

Posted via email from shebee’s posterous

I think the biggest thing I’ve been craving is life change. I’ve certainly started on the right track.

I’m doing things I’ve never expected to do. Moving to Jhb being the one thing, for instance. When Jaun and I broke up it was because of the distance. I refused to move here and he couldn’t move to Natal, after a year of long distance, we called it a day.

Fast forward a couple of years and here I am. 8 hours driv e from my home town, lying in bed at 1 am in the morning trying to figure out what thoughts woke me up exactly.

I noticed my cactus had a small case of Dead.  Please tell me, how does one POSSIBLY have the ability to kill A CACTUS?  I mean, aren’t they meant to be like, invinsible?  Sigh…

I guess I’m still not ready to tackle a real human relationshit yet, I’d end up breaking a bone.  Or a penis.  Nuhr hur hur, I said “penis”.

Anyway, the pegged pot plant made me think of this:

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

One of my favourite things about Sundays (up until last week) is watching Idols South Africa with my buddy Talfer. He sits in his Cape Town home with his gf Janel (imagine if they got hitched – Janel Nell. Lol! Anyway…) And I sit in my home (wherever that may be) and we have a running commentary via sms for the duration of the show. Who performs horribly, (Lendell, fyi) who happens to sound flat (he says Cameron sucked, I’ll never forgive that) or who is relatively impressive (we both agreed on Jason) is discussed and argued at large.

I know my blogging has been the suck lately.  I know that in being a blogger you are expected, nay, demanded to interact with other bloggers on their blogs, and I know that in this I have failed you.

It’s not that I don’t love you, or think that I’m better than you – it’s all Google Reader’s fault.  It’s so easy to just scroll through blogposts on my reader.  What would take me 5 minutes on your site, takes me 30 seconds through my reader.  But I realise that your ego is as big as mine and I solemnly promise to visit you soon and *gasp! shock!* leave a comment as proof.

She managed to break Internet Explorer and Facebook simultaneously. How the hell?

My god.

.. over to my very professional and mature article on NerdMag about politics.  Yes, I’m being “for real”.  I have some thoughts that don’t involve food, sex or boys sometimes you know….

Go over here and leave me a comment. I need reassurance of my brilliance.  But I’m also genuinely interested in hearing your thoughts.

Paranoia.  It’s a symptom of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  And we all have it something chronic.  Brandon is overly anxious about everyone’s safety.  Everytime I leave him to go to the shops / choose dvd’s / fetch laundry from downstairs he hits a flat spin and I have to sms him to say I’m safe.  And it’s not just with me, it’s everyone.  We all have to constantly reassure him everything is okay.  He refuses to have counselling, so I’ve resorted to forcing him now.  That bitch is strong, but I’m stronger baby!

Okay so this is Brandon graduating from the ICU (shriek of excitement and gratitude!):

And this his his cheesy ass grin when we wheeled him into his new private room in a general ward:

Check the lame little goatee,  I cannot tell you enough how much he looks like my dad with this new facial hair thing he has going on.  He’s put on about five years just in looks! But it got to the point where it was too painful for them to shave in that area, so the nurse turned it into some love fluff.

It’s in the quiet moments where I sit and contemplate how the outcome of Brandon’s drama could have actually been had the doctors not said he’d live.  It’s in the silence where I imagine trying to keep my younger brother Dazz’s spirits up without having Baboo there to support him in the way he does so well, usually, or imagining what my mother would be like without her FC darling boy… he always made up where Dazz and I messed up, he truly was an angel child and do-gooder.  It’s when I hold my brother’s hand while he sleeps and look at him wincing in pain, moaning and fighting off bad dreams that I pray to the universe / God / some entity with utter appreciation and gratitude that my brother is alive and is experiencing this instead of the nothingness that comes with death.

It’s always strange for me when I get recognised in real life from blogging.  I’ve had a dude in Jhb walk up to me in the Spar and make me autograph his Spar slip recently.  There I was, trying to not look obvious buying tampons and the stranger up’s himself against my behind, taps my shoulder and says “dude, tell me you’re SheBee and I’m not making an ass of myself?”.  I was shocked. I also kicked my own ass because in hindsight he was a hottie and I totally should’ve got my flirt on.

I’m republishing an oldie, because I’m veeting my legs right now and I think of this post every time.

I have the unfortunate luck of resembling a close likeliness to a bavarian slash german slash italian captain of hairiness. I was first in line for ass, boobs and hair. It hasn’t always been like this, one day I woke up pregnant (I know, weird) and all my hormones had undergone a sex change without asking me. Out of the blue, hair just popped up everywhere! So I started waxing, and thus started the beginning of a beautiful relationship with my beauty therapist, Lysa. Lisa with a ‘y’. The coolest chic from uk to live in sa. i love her to bits. But she decided to go on holiday and then when she came back she went and got all engaged. Now she lives far away. How rude.

You know, there are fewer things in this life I loathe more than really bad punctuation.  Even though I’m a writer and a blogger (“no, really? omfg!) I make spelling mistakes and typos on my blog all the time, I’m lazy on my blog – I know that, but there are some things that are totally unforgiveable… Such as exclaiming with a million exclamation marks.

I mean really, look at this, it couldn’t sum up how I feel more (usually):

Okay.  So yes, it’s dumb.  There’s no need, ever, for more than one.  Except for only other time this is ever allowed.  Read further, dear reader.

As some of you know, I’ve been up in Jhb helping out a good friend of mine getting her business site up and running.  Webafrica hosts this site and despite calling numerous times to their horrid call centre, emailing them only to receive the same reply, I am still waiting on the details I need in order to load the domain onto wordpress.org

I’m at a loss as to what I should do.  Do you have any contacts / suggestions for me?  I need to get this done now, my friend is growing impatient and I have had a bit of a sense of humour failure about it.

Sometimes death brings people together that should’ve been together long before tragedy strikes.  Long lost friendships are rekindled, family feuds are ended, new acquintances made.  Spending the last few days at Carrots house, sleeping in his old bedroom, in his parents home, has taught me that life is too short to hold grudges, too insecure to not act out on feelings and emotions and too unstable to rely on other people making plans that you should follow.

Sometimes you hear things that will make your heart stop.  Words will fail you and your ears will ring in panic.  Panic that is unfounded, as usually by the time you hear the thing of which I speak, it is already too late to do anything.

My mom called me this morning. I had been asleep, and the first words I heard were that of her telling me my friend had died.

From what we know, he was in a boating accident yesterday and was thrown overboard somehow and drowned.  His body has not yet been recovered.

When Jax told me to expect patterland farm life, i honestly thought she was exaggerating a bit.  I really didn’t prepare myself for the seventies built smallholding i’m currently staying at.  It’s gorgeous!  There’s a gazebo in the front garden, a swing hanging from the tree, a huge lawn, a dam, animals everywhere & even a bloody veggie patch out back.  She’s living her farm land dream, and i’m falling in love with this place so quickly it’s unreal.

Today alone i have been:

I’ve been blogging for a looong time and for personal reasons I missed out on the awards last year (I took a bloffing hiatus for two months) so I didn’t have any of the fun in whoring myself online for votes. Well I’m doing it now.

Comon, I really believe that I deserve at least one award for hijacking my own car, or pepper spraying the kitchen at Caths or… Something. Go thru my popular links at the bottom of the site and see for yourself, then pleeeease go to http://sablogawards.com and gimme sum luv!

Even if it’s through shit and through smit.  Love you my twin.

Coming out of my cage
And I’ve been doing just fine
Gotta gotta be down
Because I want it all
It started out with a kiss
How did it end up like this?
It was only a kiss
It was only a kiss

Now I’m falling asleep
And she’s calling a cab
While he’s having a smoke
And she’s taking a drag
Now they’re going to bed
Now my stomach is sick
And it’s all in my head
But she’s touching his chest now
He takes off her dress, now
Let me go

why does no one comment anymore?

Is it because of Google Reader?

Is it because I’ve sold my soul to the devil named Cameron?

Is it because I’m black?

It’s because I’m black, isn’t it?

Racist bastards.  Die* in a fire.

* But only in the way where you come back** to life again.

** So that you can learn to comment*** here.

*** Lazy assholes****.

**** I’m kidding, I’m kidding*****.  I love you.

***** Leave a comment ffs!

omg. how do we survive? simultaneously I am waiting for;

- a reply from a cousin to see how his wedding went
- answers to an interview i conducted last night
- confirmation of something else
- a photo. of something of someone. ooh.
- i can’t fucken twitter without gmail man!
- tweetvisor is down too.
- wtf is going on with america? i know you’re claiming recession and blah blah, but please, i have shit to do. quit failing all your web servers already.
- screw the internet. I’m going home.

… fck. i don’t have a car.

First off, lets get to the important bit:

Face of an angel.

Vote for Cameron by calling 086 2277702 or SMS “Cameron” to 34680.

I know he was a bit bland tonight, on stage.  But it was his first time and he’s also the youngest, give him some time darlings – Cameron will knock our socks off if we let him.  I’m certainly keen.  Cam needs support, and voting is open until 7pm tomorrow – so vote for him now, it’s only R2 per sms.  I will love you forever if you do.

1. am going away for the weekend. yay.
2. have majorly venomous mutated spider bite full of spit and poison and its made my the area around it purple and black.
3. Although I haz a headache, the meds for the above are WHORESOME.
4. I’m on radio tonight. Classic FM. http://www.classic.co.za/talk/the-internet-economy for streaming.
5. My hair has really grown. Wow. I straightened it last night and realised that if I’m sitting down it reaches my bum!
5. Friday FTW!
6. Feed a puppeh. here: http://www.barkingmad.co.za/
7. Aircon’ed office FTW!

My mom is the only person on earth who gets away with calling me by my christian given name.  She usually does then when I’m in kak though, which just reaffirms for me why I despise her child labelling choice for me.

Sheena-Laura, who is this young man you’ve been seeing lately and why do I not know about him? Excuse me?

I read your blog the other day and saw that picture thing to click and it took me to your Chirp account. My what account, Mother?

Hello baby.  My name is Sheena, you might wanna remember that, it’ll be on your marriage certificate soon.  Cameron I am writing you this letter now, tonight, on the day after Valentines, to devote my undying love for your voice you.

When you walked onto that stage, my heart went abumpbabomBOM! and all went right with this scary, cruel world of ours. I felt at peace and I swear when you looked into that camera whilst your long, nimble fingers strummed the strings of my heart onto your guitar, your eyes looked into my very soul.  We’re meant to be, Cammy, you and I.  I’ll tell you why:

I’ve done this before.  But here’s a revised version:

1. I firmly believe that girls and boys can just be platonic friends.
2. You don’t always have to believe in the same things as others to find common ground.
3. Vin Diesel is someone I lust after in my dreams.  So is Lindsay Lohan, evidently.
4. I have stopped my coke (cola, not powder) addiction, but do still relapse and go big on the odd occasion.
5. I’m not nearly as phased about being liked as I once was
6. My skin is pretty comfortable with me being in it.

So I was tagged.  Thanks Feisty.  You bitch.

The rules are that I have to go to my 6th folder, pick the 6th picture & post it, tell you the story, and then tag six people.

I’m a rebel though, at heart, you all know that, so I won’t tag anyone.  But I will tell you 6 things about this photo instead.  Cos I’m 666 like that.  Evol, baby:

1. Yes.  Those are my burnt boobs.  And my bra.  And my motor-boat starter bottom lip. And my whoresome polka dot shirt with blue buttons.

I’m sorry.  I have personal writers block.  Anything other than the mag just doesn’t have my focus right now.  It’s ridiculous, I know.  But I’m like that sometimes – all or nothing.  This is the nothing part of me you’re seeing over here on this site.  It’ll change.  The minute I feel a bit more secure in NerdMag.

I don’t know if you noticed, but my theme suddenly went wonky today (or yesterday, can’t remember which) and some of you previewed what was going to be the all new look SheBee.co.za but only after it accidentally went live did I realise how much it lacked.  So… um… unsurprise?!

I’ve reached the point of no return in some aspects of my life:

Tolerance: there is none.  For people who expect too much of what I can’t give, for people who assume that I’ll just be a walk over.  For people who dispose of other people, namely me.  After a mini melt down and having the ear of a very good friend, I now know that not everyone in my life has to be pleased all the time.  Sometimes, its okay to just please me.  I’ve decided that if I’m not good enough as is, then its their loss.  I refuse to try and be something I’m not for anyone anymore.  In the words of my hero, Cartman of South Park:  screw you guys.

Hello Seh.

You’re not speaking to me now, partly because you’re actually in the shower and it would be lesbian weird if you and I were in that close a speaking proximity, but mostly because you’re mad I wouldn’t do that thing for your birthday tomorrow.  But guess what, you silly cow – I did it already, long before you even asked.  I just didn’t want you to know until your birthday.  So thanks for spoiling the surprise, bitch.

Me. Tired. Yet fabulously foolish.

Friday: sat at laptop til 4.30am on Saturday.

Saturday: coded til 3.30am and was up at 9.00 again.

Sunday: all.fucking.day.at.this.computer.

NerdMag – it’s beautiful.  I hope you love it.  Go here after 9am on Monday to see all my hard work.

Pass me the redbull, I need some wiiiiiiiiings!

Ps:  Everything else fine.  Feline pee’s on the beanbag now.  Hey, at least its not my bed!

I realized today that the there’s a price to pay for devoting so much energy to the internet.  Your real friends become overlapped by the people you interact with online.  I’ll go one step further and even say that your life friends don’t know nearly as much about you as the net friends do.  How sad is that?  And by sad I don’t mean ‘loserish’ I mean the every essence of the word ‘sad’.

When I started writing, I knew instantaneously that I wanted to become something more than a blogger.  More than a home-made poet.  More than someone who just makes her mom and friends laugh sometimes by reading the odd post.  I wanted to professionalize, legitimize and capitalize on my writing.

Sometimes you just have to make shit happen.  For yourself.  Because if you sit patiently like a duck waiting, eventually an Elmer Fudd is going to find you and fuck you up. So, I created my own magazine to become Editor. And even got real life writers to write stuff for me.  Insane!  My dream come true.

Save the date!

Right.  So, in the manner of Earl (from that mnet I am Earl program, whatever it’s called) I would like to know where to start in order to get my karma levels balanced out.
 
I’ve had a shit load to process lately and all of these things tell me I have one of two options to fix myself:
 
I possibly need Jesus. Much like Santa, The Easter Bunny and flying purple piglets – I am not the most faithful of persons I know.  Also, that whole “I caren’t see or touch or smell him” thing kind of puts me off.  I’m a physical kind of chick.  I like to feel the men in my life.  So, the other option is:
Write a list of all (some) of the bad things I’ve done in my life and make it right. 
 
Here goes nothing:
 
I should confess to writing all those those fake Phys Ed notes I gave to Ms. W in High School.  Except the one genuine note my mom wrote for me that put me in Detention for being a liar.  Apparently 12 year olds are too young to have periods.  Stupid ho, how could she doubt my bleeding capabilities?  *ahem*
Should have told Tiff that burning bibles and class text books was probably not such a great idea.  At school.  In the trees.  Where we were smoking.  In school uniforms.
Have I ever mentioned that I’m a phone-phobic? I am one of those annoying people who reject calls because I don’t feel like talking, and I am definitely one of those “let-voicemail-pick-it-up-if-its-important” people.  Others hate this about me, and I’m told negative things about myself and what should be done with my middle finger constantly.  Maybe I should up my game and start talking to people. Then again, meh.
I procrastinate a lot.  I want to do thing, don’t get me wrong, I just never do.
I cheated on that one dude that one time with that one ex.  Not cool.
I used to happen to be the worst kind of receptionist in the world.  I’d let people walk into the building and get lost just because they didn’t greet me or bother to ask where they should be going.  I also used to look at the switchboard ringing and file my nails instead. And if mistresses called in, I’d give the men fake messages from their wives to call instead.
Oh well, lets see if it improves karma any.

One of my life changes this year has transformed me into a Walk-and-see-more, obviously this is due to me being Carlos.  I’ve been fortunate enough to discover someone at the office who was looking for someone to share petroleum expenses on the trip to work and back.  Luckily for her, my car was stolen and I so happened to be the person prepared to pay towards her transit costs.  So every morning I am out of bed by 6.45am (holy fuck balls! Anyone who knows me knows how much of a not morning person I truly am, this is a feat in itself) and am out of the house, walking down the street to meet Veen at the corner of the street by 7.15am.

I know most of you lurk around these parts except for a few die-hard commenters (who I love with my whole heart – kiss kiss) but please could the rest of you click that link from your reader, or just the comments tab if you’re already here on the page, just this once and come talk to me?  I need some assvice and input from all of you.

Without going into any specifics, I’m working on a project.  I could go all Tyler Reed on your ass and name it, something like “Project Bee” if that’d help me sound more dedicated?  But while I’m doing the background slog work I’d like to do some market research with you guys.  So:

I know, I’ve been scarce again.  As of tonight it stops, promise!  I’m doing a guest post for Glugster tomorrow.  Want a preview?  Okay:

[...] What she doesn’t realize is that the owner, her senior boss and person who issues her salary, is a family friend of ours, already penciled into my mothers diary for tea tomorrow. Plans to “sort out this little issue” have already been made and mark my words:  this woman will go down.  To China town.  With a clown.  And a frown.

A list of things I am going to do when I get my car back:

1. Hit Essenwood Market for a red velvet cupcake with cream-cheese and sugar frosting.  Oh my fuckyum! It’s been far too long.
2. Go and see a movie.  Park in the screwed up Musgrave parking arcade and stick the ticket between my boobs so I don’t lose it and have to break out of the arcade like I did that one day with Cath.
3. Drive down to the beach and get a curried pineapple.

1. A limited edition Moral Fibre T-shirt full of goodness, flair & attitude.
2. One .co.za domain plus THREE MONTHS free hosting from The Creative Foundation.
3. A luxury Body Thrills hamper homemade especially by ExMi for each individual.
4. Free Dinner at Capello Sandton from Garsen Subramoney to the value of R300.
5. An anonymous prize:A bottle of Rupert & Rothchild Red vino for the dude and a Charlotte Rhys hamper for the girl.
6. And then, excitingly:  one final mystery prize from Simon B. To be sent to the winners and they can tell you what they got.  Sneaky, sneaky huh?

Stroking egos since 2009.

Today’s leg of the race to blogdom & celebrity in what has become known as #nerdies09, something incredible happened.  These twits started bidding on each others clothing, equipment, facial and body hair and even used up tissues.  Our old friend Wiggly D then went and turned the tables completely and suggested one of the finalist girls strip her clothes, bids started at ZAR100!

Well paint me black and call me Thandeka, I never expected such a great response!  My inbox has been flooded with over a hundred nominations, the comments on the previous post had me in stitches all day and my twitter account has been abuzz with excitement, questions and lots of nom-noms today.  Wow.  Let me just sit back here and bask in the ambience of my awesomeness…

Okay I’m over it.  Back to business:

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

Run.

I won’t do it anymore.  I’ve decided to face shit, head on.  And to stab friends in the front, not the back.  I’m the person you’ll get the honest answer and opinion from.  I’ve always been that way, but I need to reaffirm this for myself.

Hide.

I’ve hidden far too much of me.  This holiday has taught me that.  Especially when I get told by a male that I’m far too cold on the inside for any average man to penetrate my mind.  I was like, dude – who wants mental penetration anyway?!  Kidding.  Well, okay, I’m not.  Damnit.

Life: look at it over your glasses and say: BRING IT ON, BITCH.

Oh hi, remember me?  The girl who had a rough year?  Yeah, thats all over now.  I’m officially ignoring the last few days of the year because I’ve decided two double oh nine is going to be *my* year.  MINE.  For me.

SO.. until then, I’m doing a bit of a road trip to visit old friends and … some other person I won’t discuss here.  Yay!  Looking forward to it.  Those of you who know where I’m going have my digits so call me okay?  I might be able to squeeeeeeze you in.  Maybe.  If you have good music and some jingle bones, Its going to be a week of debauchery though, I warn you.

Tomorrow you’ll be thinking to yourself
Where’d it all go wrong, the list goes on and on

And truth be told I miss you
And truth be told I’m lying

Now you’ll never see, what you’ve done to me
You can take back your memories there no good to me
And he’s here’s all your lies,
You can look me in my eyes
With that sad sad look you wear so well

When you see my face hope it gives you hell
Hope it gives you hell
When you walk my way hope it gives you hell
Hope it gives you hell

Please, for the love of god, explain to me how ‘Amy has sex with husband’ can be classified as a good enough news story? So fucking what!  So she shtupped her husband.  Big whoop.  I had sex with my boyfriend* not long ago – there, wanna write about it News24?  We even spiced up the missionary, how about that, News24? And if that’s not bad enough, they’re all over Boy George who was unfortunate enough to choose a lover who taddle taled after he went a bit kinky with handcuffs.  Is this really what the publication deems news worthy, even if under the Entertainment category?

…its not best swallowing your pride.  In certain cases its the only thing you can actually walk away with.

This year has been a year of learning for me. So much has happened, so much has changed and not very much has stayed the same, including me.

• I’ve learnt to be comfortable in my own skin.
• I’ve learnt how to say “Enough”. And walk out on situations that weren’t working for me.
• I’ve learnt to say no. Despite the fact that it caused greater stress than staying meek and mild, I said no to something I didn’t want, knowing it would hurt somebody else.

…is a fucking cool place, okay?  The roads are smaller, the mowwwwwntin is everywhere, the ocean is cool.  There’s a vibe of instant chillaxation thats whacks you in the face the minute you touch down.  I honestly can’t think of the last time I was this at peace with the universe.

Oh my goodness me I am so excited.  This time tomorrow I will be in esCape Town!

I will be with good friends, I will be on top form and I’m going to chill.  And relax.  And unwind.  And like, swoon.

Thank you to everyone involved this weekend, I just know its going to be awesome and I am SO excited to meet you, you, you and you for the very FIRST TIME!

All my bags are packed and my toothbrush is just DYING to get boxed in and hop on the plane with me.

I hate my cervix, you know.  I truly do.  I feel like I need it to be sent to finishing school and get taught how to fucking behave itself man.  It’s keeping me up at night and making me sick in the mornings.  It makes what is usually just a mild, annoying period look like there’s a massacre going on inside me.  Sorry, TMI I know, but you guys can just deal with it, okay?  I have a war going inside my body and I don’t know who’s fucking winning. Stupid fucking girl bits.  DIE IN A FIRE!

I actually don’t remember the last time I felt this sick.  Oh my christmas stocking, I woke up and puked.  Because I have never in my life ever felt this ill with the flu before.

My ears hurt, the eustation (fuck off with spelling) tubes are throbbing, my nose burns at the back, my throat is literally tearing itself in half and breeding, I swear, and my head?  Jesus, Mary & Joseph.  I can’t begin to tell you.

I’m writing this blog post whilst on the phone with a certain person.  I don’t think a word has been said in over three and a half minutes.  Its easy, its peaceful, its reassuring, its comfortable.

I love that we can say nothing but still put the phone down and feel like we’ve spoken for hours.

In not saying anything, I’ll say this:

Thank you for listening to my reciprocated silence.

Thank you for being.

Thank you for loving in your unloving way.

Thank you for not being perfect.

Thank you for being you.

I’ve been catching up with an old friend.  Its so good to have her back in my life.  Throughout the years, she is the one person I can truly say was beside me in shit saying “damn we fucked up” instead of being the one who bailed me out.

I remember the day I first got drunk.  We’d concoted a story about “studying” at a friends house for exams.  Instead, the only thing we studied were the labels on a few bottles of Gin, Rum & Vodka.  The mixer was beer.  The game to play was called Pig Out.  I was fifteen, clueless and full of attitude.  I also happened to be with only one other girl, Tazz (said friend above) and fourteen other boys.

1998 – I was 14, obnoxious, curious about boys and everything that came with them.  My mother gave me the “be wise, condomise.  Don’t be a silly billy, put a condom on his willy” speech every.single.fucking.day.

1999 – At 15 I had decided I no longer needed the infrastructure known as ‘education’. As far as I was concerned life school seemed much more effective.  Myself and a friend, Tazz, convinced our mothers to let us drop out of high school and join up with the local cool kids and attend Technikon.

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 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.

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.

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.

Some woman, I won’t even tell you who she is, has blogged a step by step guide on how to be the perfect Stupid Bitch.

That’s my term anyway, I think she called it “Perfect Wife”.

For your perusal, I present to you the worlds dumbest guide I have ever read in my life:

It is with two of my favourite cyber boy friends.  It has been called Moer It, and its a place where you can shout, laugh, add stuff or just talk absolute crap.

Need another addiction to distract you from work?  This is totally what you’ve been looking for. Please sign up, we need the support, and I will honestly love you forever.  Promise.  Even in afterlife.  Go go go!

It all began at 4pm on Friday, when I got the sms that said “I’m sorry, running really late,  won’t be able to see you tonight unless you want to go to a 21st  with me?”

My thoughts:

1.    I drove all the way over here, took the fucking afternoon off to be here early, so I could see you because you whined so much.
2.    Now that I am here, you not only cancel our evening, but change the plans to suit you and your (stupid) friends 21st.
3.    Who forgets their “friends” 21st anyway?
4.    Thanks, but I’ll stick with the plan, and meet my friends out.

• tender breasts
• sensitive nipples
• nausea in the mornings
• wanting to vom after every meal
• constant headaches
• bloated stomache
• hormones upside down
• funny dreams

No, I’m not pregnant, but Aunt Flow this month is being a fucking bitch!  Oh my lawd, I actually cried this afternoon because I dropped my banoffee pie

And Dano (Date Dude’s blog alias) has a sore foot.  And I have to meet his parents, and he will meet mine this weekend.  So much for a romantical weekend in the mountains.

Sobness.

I’ve just met my first real life Emo Boy.  Wow.  The black hair, the guy liner, the bad posture, the mumbling…

Funnily enough, what surprised me is that he took one look at the bracelet I wear on my left hand next to my gold bangle, given to me recently by Cath.  “That is a Moonstone bracelet, you know…” says EmoBoy.  “No, really?  I had no idea.” I replied, rolling my eyes.  “it is a very feminine gemstone, it suits you” he said in a depressed manner, following with a list of things it can cure:

It has been a long, eventful month so far.  I’ve had to make decisions on so many things, and I’m the type of person who battles to choose between tampon brands so you can imagine how kiff it’s been for me.

So, for those of you don’t know, I’ve moved out of The Shath to live with my SIL for a while.  My brother is away on assignment for a few months and she’s staying alone.  Also, financially it works out a lot better for me.  So the move happened this morning.  I am so proud of my little car – it took almost everything in one go! Aside from the bigger things which I will have to go back to pick up with one of my brothers or a certain male type person I have been seeing from time to time…

I had a long, funny post detailing how I ended up walking through the foyer of my building wearing only my bra and a black skirt arriving home from work this afternoon, but I copied the text out of word, closed the program and then instead of pasting what I’d written here, I then copied some link over my post.

I wish there was a function to copy more than one thing to the clipboard.  Could somebody do that for me?  Could you?  Double clip boarding?  Thanks.  Bill?  Open source dudes?  Anyone?

A friend of mine is in love online.  Yes, that’s right, I said online.  It’s something that always fascinates me, since you all know I fell in love with Andrew online.  She’s hopelessly in love, confused, excited, scared and anxious all at the same time.  It’s the first time she’s ever done anything like this and I am loving it on her behalf.

Something not many of you know was that almost the entirety of Andrew’s and my relationship was online.  He died the morning of when he was on his way down to meet me.  I spoke to him the night before and said good night, I was too busy and distracted to notice that he sounded weird on the phone.

I have a bit of a scoop for you.  It’s also Monday 20Q, so I thought I would combine the two.  Please say hello to someone who most of you know very well by now, my soon to be ex homie, Cath Jenkin.

We have some big news – would you like to tell everyone?
The Shath is over.  Hee hee, it’s not because the scissoring was crap though.  No one died, nothing bad, its life.  We still haven’t scissored yet though, disappointingly. Sheena has decided to move out.

What do you think the biggest change will be?
No more weird smells.