Life, Love and Everything Else

Happy Birthday to Me:)

2007-12-18T15:20:00.000+02:00

It is official, I have crossed over - no longer can I gaily mention that I am in my "early 20s" when quizzed about my age, for today is the day that the sun rises on the other side of the fence......I have turned 26. But contrary to my earlier belief that the day I hit this dreaded age I would steadily start sliding towards geriatric-dom, I'm absolutely loving it.

It may have something to do with the gifts, the calls and the general attention I'm getting, but honestly, I'm not really feeling too phased about being a year older. So what better time to sit and take stock of my 26 years on planet earth.....it's been a roller-coaster ride thus far, and as far as I am concerned, the end is nowhere in sight!

Age 4

I enter pre-school filled with ridiculous fear of all the strange people around me. By day 2 I loathe one of my teachers. Who raps a 4 year old over the knuckles for dipping her paintbrush in the blue paint "before" washing out the red!

Details of pre-school year all a big blurr of nap-time, art time and general raucous time. Spend most of my days dreaming of "big-kids" school.

Age 5

GRADE ONE HERE I COME! Can hardly contain the excitement of it all - who is this gorgeous lady called Mrs Yin?? Far cry from pre-school abusive devil!

A STAR is born - Mrs Yin, bless her soul - saw my potential from an early age. As you can see, the name has stuck!

Age 6

I'm forced to leave Mrs Yin and move clear across the country - I shall never know happiness again.

Age 8

Yet another new school - for someone still 2 years shy of a decade, I have an impressive arsenal of friends across the entire country. I learn to adapt to the instability and ever changing environment. I can teach any chameleon a few tricks.

Age 10

New school - I do believe this is number 4......maybe 5, not too sure. Don't know if I really fit in here - lots of farmer's kids.........I hear something about horse riding lessons - YAY. Oh...apparently you need your own horse, BOO!

Age 12

This has to be the most traumatic year of my life. I've gotten into my dream high-school. I'm all set to go. All my friends are going there - life is gonna be sweeeeeeeeet. But alas, Mother and Father sit me down and tell me about finances that won't allow. I cry - okay, understatement of the year, I WAIL. I think I know what disappointment is all about.

Age 13

High School - co-ed nogal! I rekindle with old friends (all that crossing the country earlier helped) I mourn what my life "should-have" been though. But alas, life must go on....who is that lovely boy with the mop of hair........

Age 13 and 1/2

I officially become "a woman" - what junk!

Age 14

Oh HAPPY DAYS, I get to move to my dream school after all.....oh my gosh who are all these mean b*tches???? I want my lovely boys back:(

Age 16

O Levels - the beginning of a loooooong exam writing phase. I discover that I am queen crammer and learner of absolutely NOTHING! Well, seems to work anywho.

Age 18

All in a whirlwind, exams are over and I'm hearing stuff about "your best days are over" etc etc. SCREW THAT - bring on Cape Town!!

Age 18

Oh my gosh, varsity, oh my gosh......

Age 19

I HOWL and WAIL and declare that I shall never be happy again- my broken heart feels like it will never heal. What the h*ll is this????? I can't believe how much it hurts.

I lose a ridiculous amount of weight due my inability to eat or sleep (and the fact that I can hardly stop sobbing long enough to chew anything)

Age 20

Heart is still in tiny pieces but I choose to pack it away and dedicate my life to Buddhism instead - lasts a couple of months at least.

Age 21

Wow - graduation already?? What the f*ck???

Age22

Back at varsity for honours - damn!

Age 22

Okay....remember all that stuff I said about wanting to become financially dependant and what not??? Well, I take it back - I am gripped with mortal fear at the thought of moving tot a strange new town with a strange new language:(

Age 23

I somehow manage to slide into a dangerous depression courtesy of the foreign language, new job and foreign people. I feel really alone and my melodrama lands me in hospital with stress induced migraines.

Realise that I am now an adult and need to start being a self-sufficient human being. Make a conscious decision to stop the self-pitying and negativity - it's unproductive.

Age 24

What is this???? I do believe Durban is growing on me!! I'm even eating hot curries and all and all and all.

Age 25

HELLO EGOLI!! City of Gold I have arrived!

What the h*ll - when does the madness stop???? Ever heard of "quiet weekend at home, ALONE!!!"

Live in mortal fear of being hi-jacked or robbed.......ummm....not too sure how healthy all of this is..........ummmmm, Durban wasn't so bad was it?????

Age 26

And here we are today! Older, wiser and generally all round more fabulous! haha, here's to 26 more.

Narcissim.....what exactly is the problem???

2007-12-05T11:55:00.000+02:00

For those of you resident in the Republic of SA, you'll be familiar with one David Bullard. Part Sunday Times columnist, part car enthusiast among other things, he's generally hysterical and always politically incorrect. I'm a avid fan of his Out to Lunch column purely because the man really says all those awful things many are thinking, and he does it sooooooooooo unapologetically - oh to have to such balls......

But anyway, well, I happened to stumble upon an article he had written for Empire magazine (really great business mag by the way) on blogging and bloggers alike. If I were to say he was scathing, I would be too kind - the man did what he does best - he let rip. I've never laughed so much.
The opening statement to the article was as follows:

"Earlier this year David Bullard incensed the blogosphere by calling its adherents a bunch of drivel-spewing no-hopers who couldn't get laid. The forore resulted in him trying out his own blog, which he has recently dropped as a complete waste of time. He stands by all his original comments."

Avid blogger or not - you have to agree with me - this is a brilliantly articulated insult - you can't help but laugh. I thoroughly enjoyed the article, but I have to add that he sorely missed the point of the whole blogging craze. We're all self-absorbed beings who crave a platform for attention - I see no shame in this whatsoever. My blog allows me to feel like my life, mundane or otherwise is important and interesting. Plainly put, I blog merely to feed my narcissim! I write about....well.. whatever the h*ll I want to write about, and for no fee whatsoever, I'm essentially published to the world! It really doesn't get better than that!

So to Mr Bullard, I say give the "Bullog" another go - and not from the stance of some substantial and significant journalistic effort, but simply because it's just plain and simple pure unadulterated fun.

Everything's Changing.......

2007-12-05T09:35:00.000+02:00

I'll skip the usual excuses about why I haven't updated my blog since circa 1900's.

It's been a very hectic past couple of weeks for me. I have resigned. Yes, I hear the whispers of JOB HO being flung around, but honestly, I had no intention whatsoever of being promiscuous, it all just kinda happened! I was actually head hunted by a competitor company, and they waved dollar bills and a promotion in my face, and well.....I kinda grabbed it. Myopic? Not really - I actually agonised and conferred with many an individual on the merits of the position, and I think I am happy with my decision. New job is presenting some potentially horrendous challenges, but knowing myself the way I do, unless someone shoves me into it, I'll never do it!

I am scared, apprehensive, giddy and excited in all the same breath. I think the blender of emotions exacerbated the nasty case of gastro I managed to pick up as well! (will detail that in another blog......twas highly unpleasant...)

So, come January 2008, shall be learning new names, new processes, new company bullsh*t and experiencing a whole bunch of new office politics.....dontcha just love the corporate world:) Wish me luck.

Le Weekend....(is that even French???)

2007-11-05T16:03:00.000+02:00

Tis Monday afternoon, and as usual I am bored titless so thought it may be a good idea to tell you all about my weekend (not that it was particularly amazing or anything, but hey!)

So incase you're the last person on the planet who doesn't know that my laziness is much akin to a comatose sloth, I am HORRIBLY lazy. As is to be expected, this laziness spans across all types of work, viz. paid employment, housework, exercise, basically anything that requires concentration or expenditure of energy. Now combine this shocking behaviour with the fact that I have no maid and you're headed for a rather dodgy situation.......(I do draw the line at basic hygiene though!)

Yes, yes, I shall get to the point - what's the connection between my laziness and supposed "weekend download"? Well, I spent my ENTIRE friday night ironing!!! I can't expresss or convey to you how much I loathe ironing, but I had no choice. The pile of unironed clothes covering my entire bedroom floor was getting a tad bit out of control. There was no more floor to walk on, and digging through that mess every morning in search of a shirt was getting rather tedious.

The ironing had to be done.

I wanted to cry, contemplated buying an entirely new wardrobe, but quickly remembered that I was skint and didn't have 2 rands to rub together. Twas a loooooong and painful night, which ended way past the witching hour. The pain has been burned in my mind.

After a complete dud of a Friday night, Saturday could only get better. In some fit of utter madness, I had pledged to cook lunch for a bunch of friends of mine.........dumb idea - I think I am going to be evicted from my flat.

The darkies, they came, they chowed, and most importantly, they made the most god-awful NOISE!!!I can not believe that less than 20 people could actually make such a racket - between the singing, the TV, the random yelling and the radio, I would understand if my neighbours signed a petition to have me forcibly removed. But noise aside, I have to admit, I had an absolute hoot. I have idiots for friends, but then again, what's that lark about birds of a feather and whatnot.....

Woke up on Sunday with my little shoebox looking like Hurricane David had strolled through.......remembered why I never do that hosting nonsense! Sped off to the lake and attempted to do a couple of laps, but the combination of a rather painful wrist (please don't ask what I did to it) and a dubious blood alcohol level conspired against me. Ended up spending the afternoon watching the latest soft-porn series to grace our TV screens, The Tudors! Oh what fun!

All in all, a good weekend - how could it not be with great food friends and booze:)

Facebook-less:(

2007-10-23T14:27:00.000+02:00

So I think it is official. I must be the sole person this side of the milky way who's not on Facebook. I don't like it - I feel left out:( Now before you go and ask the obvious, there are two fundamental reasons why I have not been "poked" and don't rush home to read messages on my "wall". One is, the fact that my employers are certified kill-joys whose sole raison d'etre is to detract all joy from my life. FIREWALL FROM HELL. Two is the fact that the same said employers are stingy and won't pay me more so I can afford internet at home. Yes, it is a sad state of being.

So next time you rush home to do your daily stalking of that cute guy "somebody-once-introduced-to-you-way-back-when", think of me, longing for someone to poke me.

Another Step to RockStardom!!!

2007-10-23T13:28:00.001+02:00

So, if you ever pay attention to my ramblings, you are fully aware of my rockstar ambitions! I compiled a list a while ago on the necessary steps to take if this dream was to ever be realised. Well, somewhere in that list was the issue of "anything-but-ordinary" hair. I was dismally failing in this dept, but not so after this Saturday!!!

Yes, close your mouths, I cut, and I do mean CUT my hair! Was horribly bored with all it's normality, so Saturday morning I made my way to what is now my favourite hair salon and declared that someone must CUT MY HAIR!!

A fantastic gentleman by the name of George rose to the occasion, and I am now sporting a decidedly interesting "wanna-be-but-not-quite mohawk" YAY!!

It's long on top and practically non-existent on the sides, and my head in all it's oddly round glory has nowhere to hide:) But who cares, I'm loving it, and it's a darn site more rock and roll than that tame do I've been sporting for the past couple of months - HURRAH for George!

I must say though, I do get the odd shock each time I walk pass a mirror - I mean REALLY, my head is REALLY round!!

So next week I shall go back to my new BF George to complete the next step to ultimate rockstardom - OUTRAGEOUS COLOUR - wish me luck:)

P.S I know you're all dying for a photo - don't worry, you shant have to wait long!

Gorgeousness and Fabulousness:)

2007-10-23T13:16:00.000+02:00

So, I've just received some updated pics of my fabulous niece and nephew, and have essentially spent the last hour and a half staring in awe at their gorgeousness. Nosy work collegues who "occassionally" glance at my PC have declared that I am obsessed. I must say, I can't disagree! I pondered a little more though as to why I am so utterly fascinated with the little beauts, then it hit me - they look like me!!!

Okay okay, I know you're all rolling your eyes in disgust at my self-obsession, but honestly, I kid you not, Tereese in particular is the spitting image of Baby Star! What with all that gorgeous hair and huge eyes, there's really no denying! I know you're all unbelievers, so I shall go and dig up some Baby Star photos, and post them - just you wait and see!

Welcome to The World Tereese and Christopher

2007-10-10T14:23:00.000+02:00

I have been telling anyone who cares to listen, so I may as well share my excitement with strangers on the www. I am now officially Aunt to one lovely young lady and dashing young man, who shall be known to all and sundry as Tereese and Christopher Sakala.

Yes, Older Sister Nyaru has finally popped and the twins are now dwellers of Planet Earth. Being premies and all, they’re super tiny, which just goes to add to their overall gorgeousness and fabulousness. I’ve become extremely unproductive as I find myself staring at their 1st pics every chance I get. I guess I just can’t believe that they’re real! Am totally in love and I think it’s only going to get worse.

The Struggle Continues.....sniff....sniff

2007-10-10T10:10:00.000+02:00

4:20am - Alarm goes off……..Why Lord, WHY must I get up at this ungodly hour!!

4:40am – Literally DRAG my feet around the flat looking for ironed clothes. This lack of housework thing has got to stop.

4:50am – Am off. I no longer have usual feeling of dread. I have come to accept my punishment for years of lethargy and gluttony.

5:00am – Kindred spirit Lebo has abandoned me I feel lost and alone. What will Satan do to me now that he has me all to himself.

5:05am – Satan has declared that it’s time for a weigh-in.
Oh crap.

5:10am – May the ground please open up and swallow me whole. The scale HAS NOT BUDGED!!! Oh Lord, Satan’s look of disgust is burning holes in my flesh! He’s screaming something about the Starvation Strategy that he handed out a couple of weeks ago.
I kinda stuck to it…..I think I am doomed to be portly

5:15am – Satan is now in a very foul mood. He keeps muttering something about his reputation…embarrassment….shall be punished. He’s rather incoherent, but I’m getting the gist of it.
Crap.

5:20am – I’m hauling 8kgs of steel plus my healthy body weight up and down some stairs. The tears are freely flowing – Lord please take me now.

5:40am – Satan is now mumbling something about his girlfriend cheating or what nots……. GREAT, that coupled with the stupid scales inability to lie is gonna cause me grievous bodily harm!!

5:50am – I can’t breath…..I’m convinced I’m having a cardiac episode. I’m not ready to die!!!!

5:55am – Satan has decided that maybe screaming might not be the right way to get through to me. He’s now attempting to lecture me on the importance of not gorging on spare ribs and pizza.
Don’t I freakin WISH that I had been gorging on such! Freakin useless bran flakes.

6:00am – Bikini body is looking like a mirage again - I FEEL all svelte, but apparently am not. Guess the struggle continues.

Black Blacker Blackness - Part Deux!!

2007-10-04T16:37:00.000+02:00

Day 3

No sleep to be had all of last night. Make mental note to self not to sleep at groom’s house in future! Constant stream of inebriated men kept coming through the door!
Drag self out of bed wondering when next I’ll have the luxury of sleep.
Decide to play good sis and cook brekkie – I amaze myself really.
Hightail it to Mother-in-Laws for wash as Grooms place is now overrun with Groomsmen embracing their metrosexuality.
After much fussing and primping, everyone finally piles into one car or the other and head towards Civic Centre for ceremony
Bride is looking radiant and airbrushed……must ask how she did that!
Heat is taking its toll……Hunters Dry…..gimme a Hunters Dry.
Ceremony is over and bridal party makes themselves known on the streets of Lusaka……make mental note to self to avoid ever driving with overzealous cousin!
We all head over to fancy lodge for pretty pics. I hightail it to bar for Hunters Dry………………argh……that ad was soooooooooooo right!
Father and I are thoroughly enjoying the ales and loath to leave for lunch or whatever it is we’re being told we must partake in! Boo!
Head home for lunch…maybe not such a bad idea. What do they say about drinking and empty stomachs….
PARTY!!! Reception time – the best part of any wedding!
“Waiter!!! Bring me some wine….in fact, make that a bottle”
So much for big piss-up – am being forced to baby-sit drunken juveniles!
Plenty gyrating taking place on the dance floor – wow….must take notes.
Reception comes to end way past midnight. Good party. Good party.

Black, Blacker, BLACKNESS!!

2007-10-02T08:16:00.000+02:00

So, am finally back in Jozi and at work after what was quite a long hiatus. Am not to happy about the work bit, but am loving being back in my little shoebox flat! For those who don't know, I've been gallivanting around the bush for the past 2 weeks - the sand has literally crawled under my skin! But dirt and heat aside, I had a pretty good time. Quite characteristically, I am too lazy to give a detailed download, so shall give you the shotgun version!

Day 1

Catch a very comfortable ride to the airport courtesy of Tempest Transfers - were it not for the the obviously inebriated driver, would have been an equally enjoyable journey!

Get to airport nice and early (I don't do tardy) - realise that the international terminal has no atms....way to go ACSA!!

Lug Pedro (him and I are joined at the hip) to the domestic terminal in search of dollar bills. I am not amused, it is rather far.

Make way back to international with still an hour to spare (oh the beauty of being early)

AMAZING - departure is right on time....wow, BA may not be a crock of shite airline after all!

Ingest suspect looking lasagne.......contemplate why chicken is looking somewhat purple, but hunger and greed get the better of me.

Land in Harare to a bright and sunshiny Zimbabwean afternoon.

Hugs and kisses all around with Mr and Mrs K........Mr K is feeling rather brave and decides to pass rude comments about my weight........if looks could kill Father dear......

Go in search of food....wow....there is none to be found anywhere. My heart breaks as I wonder how people are managing to survive.

Drive home with rumbling stomach - Mr K convinces me that there are pros to living in the sticks - FOOD!

Get home, and what do you know - no electricity - I mutter some shocking curses - Mother flashes some filthy looks my way.

Rest of day is spent lolling around the house and chasing somewhat touched dog, Scooby.

An early night as I prepare for scorching hot drive to Lusaka tomorrow.

Day 2

Up bright and early and guess what.....NO ELECTRICITY!!! Too weak to curse, so hightail it to shower before water runs cold!

Can't be arsed to boil water, so ingest stodgy cold oats. I don't recommend this.

All packed after much fussing by Mother about what I am wearing to the wedding......some things never change.

Jump into car and off we go to drop Mother at the airport. Father who breaks out in a sweat at the sight of a plane has opted to drive to Lusaka, and me being the good daughter I am could hardly let him go it alone....DAMN!

We drop Mother off, and start the long drive to land of the Zambians - ROAD TRIP!!

HEAT HEAT and more HEAT!!!!!

With the petrol situation in Zim the way it is, air con is a luxury - oh Lord, melting is not a way to go!

Rumble up to Chirundu with temperatures soaring around 40......must....get....water.......

BORDER HELL!!! What is wrong with the minions who work there????? I want to scream "FLAMING EEJIT" but I bite my tongue and practice sending vudu vibes.

More harassment!! What the h*ll????

After much drama and sweat and a few tears, we cross the border and officially enter land of the Zambians.

I'm confused - why does there seem to be roving foreign exchange guys milling around flapping francs, dollars and rands at me........strange, very strange.

Long drive in the dark to Lusaka - Father declares that he's dorping all the way, so I am forced to brave the endless trucks and tractors and drive:(

Arrive at the in-laws and met with much festivity - I just need a bed - someone hand me a pillow.

Okay, no surprise, laziness has set in! So download to be continued in another post! Later all:)

I think I can, I think I can!!

2007-09-04T08:09:00.000+02:00

5:00am - Rudely disrupted from what was an abnormally peaceful sleep. Confusion of it all causes me to fall out of bed - crap.

5:10am - No faffing. Packed change of clothes night before.........see, I'm not all just good looks!

5:20am - Panic sets in as late night phonecall from Satan comes back to haunt me.
Satan - "I checked your gym access card. The last time you went to gym was last week Thursday"
Star - "Sh*t"
Satan - "I'm going to make you suffer tomorrow - be prepared"

5:25am - I contemplate punturing a tyre.

5:35am - Phonecall from Satan as I drive into the torture chamber - something about him running late and that we should do 15minutes of the treadmill instead......wonder if you can doctor the time on those things......

5:40am - Eager Beaver Lebs is already hard at work on piss easy stair contraption. Burst her bubble with news of 15minutes of huffing on treadmill. She curses something about having been on stair contraption for 10 minutes already...hehehehe

5:45am - Damn onset of Summer - every man and his canine is in the gym. Forced to wait for free machine.

5:50am - Finally get machine. Cleverly decide to take it easy while Satan is still away.....must prepare for what awaits me:(

6:00am - He arrives - I whimper a prayer.

6:05am - Satan whips out rope - does he want to strangle me???? Ohhhhhh, he's saying something skipping - I can do that.

6:10am - It's all a whirlwind, punching, jumping, crunching....but something is wrong.......I don't hear any sobbing or the occasional scream. I'm not getting odd looks from fellow gym goers either......HANG ON, I do believe I heard the words, "I'm impressed" from Satan!! I think I've passed out.

6:20am - One, two, lunge, three, four lunge! Legs aren't even buckling! hehehehe, what's my name!

6:25am - Lebo is swearing at me.....something to the effect of, "can you calm the f*ck down!" Hmmm, such rudeness. I contemplate finding a more kindred gym partner!

6:45am - Aaaaaarrrrgh, stretch feels so good - my mind wanders, picturing my oh-so-svelte body sashaying down some pristine beach in a barely-there bikini..........aaarrrgh

Day 2

2007-08-30T10:05:00.000+02:00

5:00am - Alarm goes off and a tirade of 4-letter words lets rip from my mouth.........WHY, WHY, WHY!

5:10am - Faff around flat for clean clothes to wear (really need to consider doing laundry some time this month....)

5:15am - Leave home with the most awful dread of torture to come. Drive very slowly hoping to get hijacked.

5:25am - Avoid underground parking as the thought of climbing a stair brings on the shakes.

5:30am - Find Lebo, but no sign of Satan......Wish and pray that he's passed out drunk in bed.....

5:35am - Lebs and I decide to be proactive and jump on piss easy stair machine....hehehehe, Satan would love that!

5:50am - CRAP! Satan arrives, stretched muscle top and all.......oh Lord

5:55am - He declares that today we're doing arms - TOO RIGHT, my legs wouldn't move even if you lit a fire under them!

6:00am - Satan is leading us to the dumbell area crawling with Johny Bravos - crap. This is not going to start or end well.

6:05am - 20 reps! Like what the f*ck????? Whatever happened to that age old adage about starting slow! I start to question Satan's credentials - he clearly knows nothing about this training sh*t.

6:15am - I lose all sense of time and whimper like a puppy as Satan insists I've only done 2 reps. "Why are you moaning about your legs and Lebo isn't" Damn lick-arse Lebo. Contemplate finding a more kindred gym partner.

6:25am - Satan declares we shall be doing abs......uh what's that? He hands me some ball which is so obviously incorrectly marked, 2kg's my ass!

6:35am - It dawns on me that whimpering and sobbing requires energy. Energy which I don't have. I choose to suffer in silence.

6:40am - I think it's over......Wow, I can still stand.....I'll get this fitness thing licked yet! Ha!

6:45am - Satan hands over Starvation Strategy masquerading as Diet Plan. I can no longer hold back the sobs. I think it purges some of the pain.

Masochism - A willingness or tendency to subject oneself to unpleasant or trying experiences.

2007-08-28T08:50:00.000+02:00

5:00am - Alarm goes off. It's pitch black outside and I am seriously starting to question the importance of that bikini body.....after all, arern't all those self-help books always waxing lyrical about loving the skin you're in and whatnot? Alas, I've kinda already committed to this training thing so I drag myself out of bed.

5:30am - I am still faffing around my flat looking for shoes and make-up - I hate this showering at the gym thing - Those buff types tend to constantly be suffering from Athlete's Foot........(I add another con to my "reasons not to exercise" list)

5:45am - Where's my cellphone, f*ck, I'm gonna be late - where the hell is my phone????

5:50am - I careen down a relatively empty road hoping no eejit pedestrian dare stumble into the road. I hate pedestrians.

6:00am - Left my glasses in the car. Can't see a thing - desperately search for Lebs and Personal Trainer (I shall call him Satan)

6:02am - Lebs notices me stumbling around like a lost puppy (what a good friend) Go downstairs and Satan is waiting for us - all too eager to inflict punishment......

6:05am - Satan has put us on some stair climbing contraption. Hmmmmm, this is rather piss easy....ha! So much for personal trainer whatnot!

6:20am - 15 minutes of silly machine - haven't even broken a sweat! Move aside for G.I Star please!

6:25am - OH LORD! Is this what being shot feels like???? Can you break a muscle? I'm sure you can - mine is definately broken! Satan keeps insisting I keep lifting my legs! He has me on some quad (thats thigh muscles for all you ignoramuses!) machine and I'm sure I'm lifting 100kg - possibly even 150! I scream. Satan tells me I'm scaring the other clients. Scaring the other clients my ass....OH MY ASS! IT PAINS!

6:40am - I'm sure our hour training time is up! Satan is barking some order about squats...huh? I'm a tad bit delirious from the lack of oxygen flowing to my brain....I think I may hurl.

6:50am - I'm trying desperately to kick some bag.......Lord please take me now - I doubt there's bags to be kicked in heaven...

6:55am - Satan asks us what is it we've been doing at the gym for the past couple of years. What a stupid question - who goes to gym to actually work out. I think all those muscles are suffocating Satan's brain....

7:00am - I think it's over.....Can't be sure though, maybe I've just passed out.......leave me here please.

7:05am - I nearly fall down the stairs. Satan is mumbling something about seeing us on Thursday - yeah right. Wild dogs wouldn't be able to drag me here again! Lebo admonishes me for my lack of committment. Do I want that bikini body or not? I shed a tear.

7:10am - I sign some form. I am a fool. I think it said something about 12 sessions with Satan. You think a aneurism might get me out of this?

Burn Baby Burn!

2007-08-27T17:06:00.000+02:00

So, I may have begged borrowed and stolen, but come December, Nyash and I will be running around Time Square like nauseating tourists, and then baking our black behinds on every beach we can find in The Cayman Islands! Yay - move over bourgeosie, the darkies are gonna be in town! Am so excited, I can't actually think about much else. But once all the travel arrangements were all set in stone, I did have a rather frightening realisation - my wobbly bits are far from bikini ready! But not to panic, a Virgin Active intervention is now underway. I begged borrowed and stole some more, and I now have a rather buff and mean looking personal trainer. Chosen purely for his frightening snarl, if he fails to whip this arse into string bikini shape, then I'm afraid, no one can. Torture and bootyliciousness begins tomorrow:( Keep you posted!

And It's Been a While, Since I Last Saw You

2007-08-17T12:26:00.000+02:00

So, was looking at the date of my last post, and according to blogger, twas somewhere around early May.......I feel ashamed. Well, actually not really, but I figured some sort of self-flagellation akin The Da Vinci Code monks was in order!

Considering that we are now in the budding month of August, I guess it's been a full 3 MONTHS since my lasy post - heehehehe, the laziness of it all. Cries have been made for me to do the decent thing and shut down "Life Love and Everything Else", but no such doing, snails's pace though it is, we shall persevere!

So, not much happeneing with me these days....okay I lie, a tad too much has been happening with me these days, hence the lack of time to populate my arid blog! The City o' Gold, aka Egoli has been spreading me thin! The drinking, it is too much, the eating, it is too much, and the general partying, it is waaaay too much! I honestly need a break from my current life. I mean really, one can only consume a certain quantity of wine before snide comments start to be passed about the state of one's liver.......

But just incase you start to believe that I have been holed up in a dingy pub for the past 3 months, alas, I was also actually busy pursuing other more admirable activities! I have started to canoe. Yes, you read right, no need to go back and try and decipher a typo, I, a young black woman am now an avid canoeist. As in skinny little boat, rivers, lifejackets, suspect-looking rapids, the whole shpeel that is canoeing! For the record, to my knowledge, I have not been possessed by some sadistic Caucasion ghost, and have not become the proverbial "coconut/oreo/salala" overnight, I actually am THOROUGHLY enjoying my newfound passion. After all, what's not to like?? The great outdooors, the ever-present danger, the water, the adrenalin rush - keep your blunt, pass me my paddle!!

I must say though, there is a downside to all my newfound passion - the cost of all that gear! Damn! From the boat, to the roof-racks, to the paddle, the life jacket the splash-deck - what the h*ll????? Skint does not begin to even describe my current state of being:(
But no buyer's remorse here, it was money well spent:)

So next time you drive past some random river river in the middle of Vereeniging or some other similar backwater, look down for you may see me all teeth and propelling arms, trying desperately to keep my black ass out of the water!

Farewell Dear Skin, Farewell....

2007-05-10T14:48:00.000+02:00

Well, incase you’ve been wondering where the hell I’ve been for the past couple weeks, well, honest answer is that I’ve been enslaved! Working like a donkey, having been mercilessly thrown into a job I was kinda hoping to rather slip and slide into. BUT, whereas earlier, I would have b*tched and moaned till noone could take it, this time, I am absolutely loving it! Work, insane as it is, is actually good fun – I bark orders, type rude emails and make phonecalls all day long, and get this…..this is the clincher…….some sadly misguided people somewhere out there JUMP! Am absolutely loving it! Someone hand me a whip to crack!

Anyway, since my life is no longer my own, I have no time to write nonsense (this I am very sore about) But today, I decided to steal a couple of minutes to tell you all a very sad and shocking story. (I realise that I seem to sell endless stories….I have acknowledged my problem)

So, as I recall, twas many moons ago, when I was aged 5, and Older Sister was still the centre of my universe (please don’t ask…it’s taken a lot for me to admit this) I was determined to learn how to ride a bike, because as far as I could see, all the cool kids in the hood rode bikes. (I have issues with being left out!) Father, being the rather busy person that he was, tasked our gardener, Moffat with teaching me to ride sans safety wheels. Now I have not introduced Moffat to you before, which is actually rather surprising considering that he was a huge part of my childhood. Moffat was the love of my 5yr old life! Him and I were thick as thieves, and I spent many an afternoon pushing my doll (Sally) in a pram around the garden, dutifully watching her daddy Moffat work (yes, I had decided that Moffat was Sally’s true father)

Anyway, twas decided that Moffat would teach me how to ride, and Older Sister, sensing a potential mocking situation, proclaimed that she was coming with! Now, we lived on the top of a hill (literally), and the only way up and down was via some rather suspect looking dirt road. It was to the top of that suspect road that I was led like a lamb to the slaughter, by non other than my beloved, Moffat, and Evil Incarnate, Older Sister. Naiive and trusting as I was, I calmly went along, and dutifully complied when Moffat instructed me to sit astride the bike and “get a feel for it”.
It all happened so disturbingly fast, but one moment I was perched astride my bike, and the next moment I was hurtling towards certain death after having being shoved by my beloved and Evil Incarnate.

Such treachery, treason, “et tu Brute?” Then fell great trusting, Star…….

I yelled, I screamed – blood curling, heart wrenching screams as I careened down the dusty road, trying desperately not to be flung off. Every bump represented a potential shortcut to the after life, and gripping the handle bars till my knuckles ran white was all I could do from closing my eyes and saying my goodbyes. Looking back, the whole ordeal must have lasted all of 15secs, but way back then, many moons ago, MY LIFE FLASHED BEFORE ME EYES!
Despite all my prayers for the road to miraculously become a steep incline as opposed to decline, I ended up ramming full on into a rather large pile of boulders.
It all came to a very quiet and rather bloody end.

Then and only then, did Moffat and Older Sister decide to run down and see why my screaming had ceased so suddenly. They found me strewn over the boulders, bike in two, and sans very little attached skin! (the boulders had seen to that) I think it was the rather pitiful sobs that finally caused the realisation of the gravity of their sins. Someone was gonna pay………

Knowing that a fate of certain death awaited them if the took me home to Ma Kachisa in my current pitiful state, Moffat and Older Sister took the high road (cowards, I tell ya, cowards) and decided to bribe me with endless junk. I was quickly sheperded off to the local clubhouse, where I was cleaned up (as best they could considerring I was now a skinless freak), and plied with copious quantities of Lunch Bars and Coke. All these “offerings” I gladly accepted, with the undertsanding that I would never breathe a word to Mother Kachisa as to how I came about my injuries.
After what seemed like a heavenly eternity ingesting junk, Moffat and Older Sister deemed it safe for me to return home. Did they have another thing coming……

The instant I was within wailing range of Mother Kachisa, all the water works that had ceased 3 hrs earlier returned with renewed vigour. I put on a grand performance – any thespian worth their salt would have been proud.
The script ran a little something like this:

Star – “Oh Mother, Mother, look what they did, look at my knees, aaaaaarrgh!”

Grossly exaggerated sobbing accompanied by dramatic hand gestures

Mother Kachisa – “Oh my child, my child, my poor child – who did this to you, tell
me!”

Older Sister starts to slink away ever so quietly……

Star – “It was her!” (Pointing accusingly at Evil Incarnate) “She did this – she shoved me down the hill!”

More grossly exagegerated and heaving sobs and occasional wailing much akin to a banshee

I won’t continue, for what ensued was a wonderful display of parental disciplining – The Bible does say after all, “Spare the rod and spoil the child”. And that rod was not spared.

So I got my own back, and that was the day I finally learnt to give as good as I got. (Older Sister, you taught me well) As for my beloved Moffat, well…..our relationship was never quite same. One never does get over such betrayal.........

She's Back, she's back, she's back!

2007-04-18T16:28:00.000+02:00

So, can't even remember when my last post was.......the sloth has overtaken me:( But as usual, I have many excuses and reasons as to why I have the attention of a gnat, and honestly forget to blog!

I quit my job! yay yay yay! The rush, the excitement, the adrenalin........someone please find a way to sell that high!
I moved away from the fringes of hell! No more sauna and suspicious BO courtesy of obscene temperatures!
I've got a new job and I actually.........I don't believe I'm saying this...... LIKE MY JOB!!! Yes, He works in mysterious ways!
I've found a new flat that although is freakin sucking me very dry, I like that too!
I'm close to my choms once again....aaaaargh.......and everything was finally set right:)

So you see, honestly very legitimate reasons for laziness and general inaction. But, (as always) I promise to do better!

Mischief and Madness - The Truth about Older Sister

2007-02-22T15:35:00.000+02:00

If one were to meet Older Sister now, her air of responsibility and maturity might fool you into thinking that she has always been so – but this is why I am here, to set the record straight!

I introduced Older Sister to you in a previous post, but since the role of that post was to stick her on a pedestal, I may have embellished a little, or omitted some vital facts – so here’s to setting the record straight! (no point sending me hate waves from across the oceans Older Sister – you know you love me)

So, to start off with, I’ll tell you a little story that Mother told me about one of MANY incidents displaying Older Sister’s generally horrendous behaviour. Story goes that she was the local terror, doer of all things mischievous (not surprised really – always knew that all this adult maturity was just over-compensation for past behaviour)

Like most of my stories, twas a lovely Zimbabwean day when the Devil must have possessed Older Sister, aged about 5. Everyone, including Angelic Baby Star was lolling about the house, enjoying the beautiful day and generally being good citizens. Older Sister, obviously bored by the horrible lack of action decided that it would be a great idea to go over to the next-door neighbours place – all well and good really, save for the little small fact that she had no intention whatsoever of actually alerting them to her presence.

So off Older Sister went, across the yard, over the fence and through the neighbour’s back door. The poor victims were having a regular siesta in the back yard, and she slyly let herself in and headed straight for the bathroom. That’s when she proceeded to do the unthinkable……she squarely put the stopper in the sink, opened both taps and watched while the water gushed and ran. As to be expected, it wasn’t too long before the sink was full, whereupon the water started to overflow, splashing onto the bathroom floor. All this Older Sister watched with glee, and once satisfied that her bit was done, she promptly turned on heels and skipped out the door!

It was a full 4 hours before the neighbours (let’s call them Vic 1 and Vic 2) decided to go back into their house. I can imagine the horror that then unfurled:

Vic 1 and 2 open front door, feeling less than perfect courtesy of their sun-worshipping ways

Cue gushing water, waves and waves, regular tsunami!

Vic 1 – “Oh Lordy, what the devil is this?????” (Please remember, Zimbabweans were a colonised people)

Cue more and more water, the occasional floating teddy bear

Vic 2 (this is the female element) – “My home, my home, my lovely couture home!!! Aaaaaaaaarghhhhhhh!”

Vic 2 wades into the swamp, all the while bewailing her flooded hardwood floors

Vic 1 – “I’m gonna kill her, I’m gonna skin her, that child is a monster!!” (Vic 1 new Older Sister very well…..)

Vic 2 – “You don’t think that someone actually intentionally did this do you darling? I mean, bless my soul, who would do something so horrendous?” (Vic 2 was sadly very naive…)

Cue Vic 1 marching across the yard, over the fence to my long-suffering parents…….

This is where the details of the story become somewhat fuzzy as apparently Mother finally succumbed to the stress caused by her blasted spawn, and had to be sedated. Father, somewhat out of his depth with all this drama did the honourable thing and opened our home to Vic 1 and 2, while he spent the next week with a mop and vacuum. It was a sad sad time for all, save for, you guessed it, Older Sister! She apparently claimed innocence and denied her actions. It was only after a severe beating that the child finally fessed up, but this didn’t stop her from nearly leading all the neighbourhood kids to a watery grave the very next week. But that’s a story for another day:)

Pipi and House - A Lesson in Stupidity

2007-02-19T16:58:00.000+02:00

I have just been to check out Lebo’s blog (you should do the same http://www.serendipity.gustoprojects.co.za/ – she’s not half as lazy as I am with this thing) Anyway, as I was saying, have just been catching up on her blog, and nearly peed myself reading her article about how she tried to straighten her African noise as a child:) But, laughter was very short-lived as horrible memories came rushing back to me concerning my very noise…………….story goes a little something like this:

I was a quiet child – you know the type that lives insides books and their heads? (the genius was visible from birth you see) So, being the introspective child that I was, I spent many hours making up fantastical games, the kind of games that sooner or later get you in trouble – Personally, I blame Enid Blyton.
As to be expected, Trouble manifested himself one sunny Zimbabwean day. I had designed this absolutely marvellous game that I had cleverly called…"Pipi and House" – wonderfully simple really, it involved me shoving up a small seed up one nostril, accompanied by the chant, “Pipi goes in the house”, then blowing said seed out of nostril, chanting, “Pipi goes out the house” This sequence would repeat itself in my 2nd nostril, and thus I spent many an hour, playing with bogie-covered Pipi!

One such typical day, Pipi and I were hard at our favourite game, when Pipi decided to flip the script on me. It happened after Pipi went in the 1st house……….he didn’t come out………One blow…..nothing……..another, slightly more nervous blow……..Pipi insistently stayed in the damn house! Aaaaaaaaarrrrrghhhhh, it wasn’t in the rules, not even in the small print! The panic immediately set in, and I started shoving my finger up my nostril in a rather stupid attempt (I see this only now) to coax Pipi out the house. But with every shove, Pipi got even cosier, and I got closer to tears.

After what seemed like an eternity trying to sneeze, blow, and yank Pipi out the house, I decided that a liquid intervention was needed. I dashed into the house (Pipi and I generally played in the garden, conveniently situated next to the plant that bore him!), hand over nose, and started pouring water up my nose. It didn’t take long for me to realise that this too was not working, and it was then and there that I realised that I was well and truly screwed…………..

My strategy was simple: don’t tell a soul lest you want a seriously bruised behind – so shut-up is what I did. For more than a month! I think it was after 2 weeks that a definite smell started to emanate from my nasal region, and my poor mother, thinking that her unfortunate daughter was suffering from halitosis, sent me to brush my teeth on average 5 times a day. The brushing and fermenting of Pipi continued until even I could take the stench no more – I caved and told Older Sister the whole disturbing ordeal.

Forget being supportive and all the rest, the child howled and hissed with laughter, and then promptly went to tell Mother (and the rest of the neighbourhood) about my gross stupidity. Mother screamed, hopped up and down and spat, but it made no difference to me at all – I was feeling a greater sense of loss, a betrayal of the worst kind – Damn you Pipi for flipping the script!

One visit to the ENT specialist and one swift yank later, Pipi finally came out the house looking decidedly fuzzier than he did going in. I looked at him in disgust and hurt – twas that very day that he and I sadly parted ways. We have yet to be reunited.

Pedro, Pedro, You Came Undone

2007-02-19T15:46:00.000+02:00

I have been receiving undue pressure for the past 2 months to get with the new year and go about the business of updating my blog – ah, what can you do with the fans, they will have their way…..

So, fans of mine, before I go on, reasons for my rather extended hiatus are as follows:
1) I have been sorely uninspired in 2007 so far – year of the pig indeed…
2) I do believe I have done the impossible and become even lazier….I really don’t have the energy to sit and type for longer than 5 minutes (no questions about how I manage to hang on to my job)
3) I’m bored – truly, utterly and horribly bored. My boredom generally tends to manifest itself in total inaction – Amoeba I have become

But excuses and reasons aside, I feel obliged to perform for my adoring fans – after all, where would I be without you:)

So, thought I would update you on the rockstar front. A miracle happened a couple of weeks ago, (yes, my rock stardom is part of God’s plan) my guitar teacher came to me with a rather unbelievable deal on a BEAUTIFUL Ibanez guitar. (Those of you who know KZN will know about Durbanites and deals!) So, managed to get my grubby hands on a new electric/acoustic guitar for less than half the retail price! (I have neglected to mention prices as I’ve noticed that this is seldom done in the media – they always seem to write the figures down on little conveniently available pieces of paper……..) Anyway, before I get derailed, point is, I am now the owner of a rather snazzy guitar, whom I have since named, Pedro (have no clue if Ibanez is Spanish, but have a thing about Spanish guitars….

So, I took Pedro home that wonderful Tuesday evening, and proceeded to fiddle, pull, pluck and strum for the next 2 hrs, and then the unthinkable happened………In all my excitement, I somehow, please don’t ask me how, I somehow managed to………snap a string………………………(a moment, while I relive the horror that cut through my heart……………………….

Day 1, Pedro, he-was-a-broken!!!! Oh woe, anguish, gnashing teeth – the self-hatred grew inside me at an alarming rate! How could I, how did I, I was unfit……..
Vimbai, great friend that she is wrote me a song to cheer me up:

For Star, to comfort her in her grief

Your new owner Star, brought you home from The Shop,
She got carried away & your string it went "pop"!
A day old and now they're talking repairs,
Know this dear Pedro, your mummy, Star, cares!

Chorus

Pedro, oh Pedro, you've come undone
Your mummy's so sorry, oh little one!
Pedro, oh Pedro, you've come undone
You may now be broken but you are "The One"

Touching as the ode was, it was little comfort for what I had done – I had broken Pedro.
I had to get him fixed!
Wednesday morning, forget work and that entire crock, I rushed Peds to the music shop to see if he could be restrung post haste. I’m sure the dude behind the counter pulled a very fast one on me, but in my blind desperation to see Peds renewed, I swiped that credit card with what was scarily very little thought. I had to leave my baby there the whole day – I am sure you can understand the nail-biting anguish that whole day was.

Come 5pm, I was out the office like a shot, and over to see if Peds was indeed going to be ok………………you can exhale............. he was fine:) Not quite factory-fit, but he no doubt was still singing! Ah, the relief and love surged through me – now I know how my mother felt each time I felt the need to fall out of trees and break something. (Here’s hoping she doesn’t read this and express her disgust at my comparing a mother’s love to my love for Peds)

So, it’s been nearly 3 weeks and counting, and Pedro and I are closer than ever – must say, whatever pain I caused when I broke him has been paid back ten-fold by his ruthless steel strings…….my fingers are now horribly unattractive, I am almost ashamed – BUT, not quite, for like I said before, the road to rock stardom is not lined with sunflowers and ferreros, it takes gruelling hard, body bruising work!

The Silly Season, Tis Over:(

2007-01-04T10:19:00.000+02:00

Well, it's another New Year, signalling the end of the glorious Silly Season. A sad time indeed, for I am all for endless silliness!

I, like most lazy individuals, absolutely love the holidays. After all, what's not to love? Rolling out of bed circa midday, shopping like you're possessed, and eating and drinking way beyond the definitian of gluttony. It's my idea of heaven! These hols were spent in my favourite city in the world (well, so far anyway) ; Cape Town! For those of you unfortunate enough to have never been there, go to whatever extreme is necessary (I hear standing around on street corners can be very lucrative) and get to Cape Town in Summer!

Think 15 hrs of glorious sunshine and enough pubs and bars to make make you sob with joy, and altogether waaaaaaay too many beautiful people!

I spent all may varsity years in Cape Town, and I don't care what anyone else says, UCT must be the best placed campus on God's green earth! What, with the mountain, the sea, the fynbos (hehehehe, okay, thats pretty shit!), and the view, it's an absolute joke that you're expected actually learn anything there! I for one learnt very little.........

But, point is, I needed to do a little publicity for my fav city. It's rich and poor, black, white and coloured, straight and queer - mixing pot of madness!

School Days

2006-12-11T10:40:00.000+02:00

I've just finished reading the most entertaining book ever! (well, in my world anyway) It's a book called Spud by a South African writer named John van de Ruit. As far as I've gathered, it's loosely modelled on his life, growing up and going to boarding school for the first time. It's hilarious, an absolute gem - I nearly peed myself.

As a boarding school child myself, I was totally immersed in Spud's world, and every story and moment brought back memories of hostel life. I remember that the day scholars were always under the impression that boarders were a sad bunch of folk who's parents couldn't wait to get rid of them. Thus they were forced to eke out an existence in hostel with very suspicious food and wickedly evil matrons - sorry to burst your pity bubble, hostel was the best experience I ever had! It was a rip-roarous affair with endless encounters with persons totally touched by madness! Let me introduce you to a few of those individuals who made my life one big smile.

Ash Grey aka Mrs Hassle - Residing well beyond the lunatic fringe, our head of hostel was the reason I learnt to cuss! Aptly named for the colour of her beady eyes, she took great pleasure in tormenting us all with her labradors, Bracken and Fucken (names they earned after a 2am chase of one of our smaller (weanier) prefects down the corridor) I had dreams of feeding them a poisoned steak.
Tappy aka Mrs Tapson - A wheezing asthmatic who smoked 3 packs a day. Picture really dried prune? See Tappy. She loathed me and my loudness - I pulled forkies when she wasn't looking.
Peggy/Eileen aka Mrs Clarke - the dreaded Head Mistress. Never has there been a more unpopular invidual - I wonder what it's like to feel the collective hatred of 800 schoolgirls.....And if you're wondering where the names came from, she had a wooden leg - go figure.
Mr Rob - One of only 3 male teachers at school (this was TOTALLY contrived) and an absolute darling....only problem was the rather embaressing issue of what we decided was pubic lice.What else would cause a grown man to scratch himself throughout a 2 hr history lecture?
Mr Ashley - Over-educated pommie with dilusions of grandeur.
Mr Nyanz, aka My Nyandoro - I'm a bit worried about typing out what I know about My Nyanz....in fact, I'm not gonna, tis too disturbing.
Mrs Mckay - Try as I may, evil as I am, I have no ill words to speak of Mrs Mckay. To this day she remains the single person who totally inspired me. She introduced me to Eliot and Donne, and furthered my love affair with Shakespeare. From Yeats to Plath to Conrad, Mrs Mckay lit a fire that still burns inside me. Okay, even I can hear the awful sucking........I have to say something nasty......nah, nope, nothing at all. Mrs Mckay just totally rocked!
Mrs Haxen - In my opinion, the one most touched by madness. She told the most unbelievable stories though - I still remember something about Elephantisis, testicles and a wheelbarrow.....
Mrs Mcarthy - more madness
And last but by no means least, Mrs Temlett - another English teacher, and like Mrs Mckay, I loved her to bits too. She was loud, raucous and played the piano like she was possessed. I remember something about the head of music banning her from touching the baby grand......Mrs Temlett was an absolute hoot and all passion. She croaked when she sang and smoked like a freak - just my kinda girl.

There were so many others, each filled with their own idiosyncracies and quirks - a right old riot of lunatics. I adored school days - they made me into the idiot that I am, and for that I shall forever be grateful!

Thin Line...

2006-12-04T14:48:00.000+02:00

It is a general consensus among those who know me that I am not quite all there. Frankly, I think that they all just don't understand the creative nature that is my genius! A lesser being would be insulted and offended and find new people to call friends and family, but not I, I laugh at their myopic view of moi! There is after all a thin line between genius and insanity:)

However, lately, I've started to wonder whether I'm skirting on the batty side of that line.....I've found myself having complex conversations with myself, and bursting into song at the most inopportune times. (it's usually Faithless' "Weapons of Mass Destruction") Now brilliant song though it may be, sitting in a meeting room and belting out "whether long range weapon or suicide bomber" is by any standard a tad strange. Could it be possible that everyone's been right all along? Do I really come from the far side of the lunatic fringe? Have I never been on my rocker?

Mulling over my possible insanity, I recalled a story Little Sister relayed to me a couple of years ago. Her and Daddy dearest were enroute home, radio blaring "tinky tinky compound music", when Mr. K started yelling and screaming as one possessed might do. Little Sister, shocked and frightened by this blatant display of lunacy, and fearing for her life considering Daddy dearest was the driver, calmly asked him if he was having some sort of out of body experience. The story goes that he calmly stopped, and without missing a beat, said that he had just been.......get this......POSSESSED BY STAR!!!!!!!

Little Sister, being the canieval that she is could not contain herself and proceeded to howl and cackle all the way home. (much like the way she howled as she relayed the story) I, as is to be expected, was not amused. Possessed by Star????? What in tarnation does that mean? Is my insanity contagious??? Is it progressive??

It took many fishing trips and bottles of sparkling wine before Father was forgiven! After all, it really isn't very Fatherly to insult one's spawn so - especially when madness is so obviously genetic!

I Wanna Be a Rockstar!!!

2006-12-04T13:59:00.000+02:00

I'm sure that everyone at some point and time in their life wanted to be a rockstar - the story usually ends with you growing out of it, and investing your time and energy in more meaningful and attainable pursuits. But not me! I still have very vivid dreams of standing on a stage in front of a 60,000 strong crowd, belting out some tear-jerking ballad while my fingers perform magic on my guitar! (you see, I'm both lead singer and guitarist in my band - no behind the scenes drummer for me)
Anyway, point is, I really truly want to be a rockstar, and not for the oodles of cash and endless groupies, but because it's just so unbelievably cool! The passion, the music, the heart and soul of it all - I can't think of anything better. So, I decided a while ago that if this dream were to ever have a hope of being realised, I shall have to start preparing now (the years, they're unfortunately ticking away)
I compiled a list, which I am slowly working down - here's to being a rock god!

Learn to at least look like you play guitar - I have gone one step further, and have actually learnt to play. The fingers, they have bled, and the blisters, they have formed, but what is pain in pursuit of art????

Do something radical and interesting with one's hair - I'm ashamed to say that I was well on my way with this requirement, then like the lily-livered goat that I am, I buckled and returned to a state of very normal and thus very boring hair! But have no fear, that shall be easily fixed - watch this space!

Wear whatever in hell you please - pay no attention to looks of horror that come your way - I wore a bright blue dashiki to work - nuff said!

Indulge in body art - the scare-a-little-child-to-tears kind is always recommended - I'm slacking in this regard. I only have one tattoo! BUT, come tomorrow, I will have 2, wish me luck!

Be horribly foul-mouthed (think Irish) - I have come in leaps and bounds! From saying spineless insults like "baffoon", I now have an arsenal of 4-letter words - Colin, even you would drool.

Along with swearing like the Irish, drink like the Irish! The more vodkas and whiskeys you can keep down without turning blue, purple and all the rest, the better. Not to be taken lightly, this takes practice, lots and lots of practice.

Have a general disdain for rules and regulations - now, I am ashamed to say that I am struggling with this:( For crying out loud, I have a 9-5! I have never told my boss where to shove it, and you can actually count the number of "sick days" I've taken. I'm trying though, really trying!

Own endless pairs of denim! Denim is the fabric of pornstars, rock gods and all people generally off centre - wear it with pride, with holes and with detail!

And last and least, it may be a good idea to have some sort of musical bone in your body. This however is not a necessity, after all, what are producers for?

Bad Day!!!!

2006-11-14T16:05:00.000+02:00

I love Daniel Powter's song, "Bad Day" - I'm a sucker for tales where Romance intervenes, galantly SAVING THE DAY, and in that video, Romance definately comes out trumps. All very mushy really, but contrary to popular belief, I do not have a leather hide for a heart!

Point is, I really should not have gotten out of bed today - absolutely nothing good came from it! From start till 4pm (the day is after all not quite over), the day has not been nice to me. I need to moan, and guess, what, this is it!

It all started with some rather disaappointing news, way too early in the day. I had a rather promising job interview last week, and have been waiting patiently with baited breath for a response (yeah..........more like I became absolutely rabid, salivating with eagerness for their response!) Anyway, they called me back today, raving about how they loved me and how great I was, blah blah blah blah blah. Small issue, I'm the wrong nationality, and thus they can't take me!!! You would think in this day and age of globalisation, such boundaries would have ceased to exist? Well, to say the least, I was crushed, dissapointed, deflated....really just pissed off! I, like the next person, want more money. Now don't give me all that rara about passion, and money not buying happiness etc etc, I NEED to live a certain kinda lifestyle, and to do that, I really need a tad bit more dollar bills! And this potential job (among MANY other pros) meant more money!
Everyone has given me the obligatory "win some lose some", schpeel, but right now, I just really need to b*tch!

Moving on from there, there I was in, about to get into my car, and I opened the door with such viciousness that it slammed into my forehead. I personally don't quite understand that, WHO DOES THAT!??? It's not like my head and hand don't operate from the same central system, how can I not realise that my head is in the way?? Bad day, just bad day.

Sporting the most awful lump on my forehead, I came back to work only to be harassed incessantly by my so-called collegues. I can't quite describe it........it's like....... a tenacious mosquito.....noisy.....persistent, high-pitched......but.......WORSE!
Technology has brought with it an increase in my blood pressure! The emails, the workphone, the cellphone, the blackberry (ok I lie, don't have one of those!), it just all never stops. All those freakin technologists have done is created an infinate number of methods by which bosses can send work, b*tch, check-up on you etc etc.

I need a holiday. A chance to lie in the sun, drink myself delerious and forget the current circumstances that are my life. (note the melodrama - what was a bad day is now a whole life)
Well, blowing and proportions aside, I think it's just that time of the year when we all need to take a step back and forget. Forget that you're not a heiress and have to work for a living. Forget that you will always encounter and worse yet, have to work with altogether unsavoury idiots. Forget that you're no longer a care-free dependant. Altogether, forget that you're an adult.

Fear of 8 Legs Creates A Pornstar!

2006-09-07T15:41:00.000+02:00

I don't like spiders. Well, actually, let me rephrase that, I don't like anything with more than 4 legs. 4 is plenty, and anything more is just plain creepy. I wouldn't say that I was arachnaphobic, or bug-a-phobic (don't know the "scientific" term), but I just really don't care for all those legs!

My dear Little Sister however is a raving arachnaphobe! Put a spider anywhere within a 50m radius and all Thelma breaks loose - she goes well and truly ape. One such incident happened a couple of years ago, and trust my luck, I wasn't there to witness it:( But from what I've managed to gather from Mr and Mrs Kachisa, and begrudgingly from Thelma herself, it went down a little something like this.....

Twas a balmy Summer night when Little Sister decided to go and take a shower - Mother and Father were happily seated in the lounge, engaged in an endless debate on the validity of research declaring that cellphones cause Herpes.
According to Thelma, it all kinda happened very fast - one minute she was busy soaping herself down, and the next she looked up to the ceiling to find the most colossal spider glaring threateningly at her. Spider, obviously tasting the fear oozing from one Miss Kachisa's pores, did what any other sadistic creature worth their salt would do - he dropped.

SUPER WOMAN!!! Faster than a speeding bullet, spider had no chance to even cop a feel! Little Sister was out of that shower and into the lounge, and here's the clincher, STARK NAKED! (Oh why was I not at home:()
Looking decidedly like a greased-up porn star, she stood in front of both Mr and Mrs K, stuttering incoherantly about a "spi, spi....spid...spi"
Mrs K, being the utra-conservative prude that she is, ran to cover up her "exposed" daughter, trying to remedy the obviously unkosher situation. Both parents, fearing the entry of a burglar/axe-killer/mad-man, questioned the incoherant Thelma trying to ascertain what could possibly have caused her to flash them so!

After much cajoling and attempts to try calm her down, they finally managed to extricate the word "spider!!" Apparently Mrs K's expression was so classic, it deserved to be cast in stone and displayed in The Louvre. I'll switch to verbatims now (translated and spiced up for good measure off course)

Mrs K - "Thelma are you saying that you ran out of the shower because you were running away from a spider?!!!!!"

Thelma - "Ma, ma, ma, mama (stuttering apparently continued till early hours of the morning) there's this big ass spi, spi, spider in the bathroom!"

(Muffled sniggers heard from Mr K at this point)

Mrs K - "Thelma, what manner of lilly-livered child are you that you would choose to rather stand naked in front of your God-fearing parents instead of face a little spider?!!"

(more sniggers and what sounds like choking heard from Mr K)

Thelma - "Mama, it atta, atta, attacked me I tell you!"

(Mr K chooses to excuse himself from the room, declaring that he's going to "find that darned spider and flush it!" Unrestricted snorts and cackling heard all the way to the bathroom)

Mrs K - "hmmmm, I wonder about you sometimes my child - come, lets get you dressed and have some tea to calm your nerves"

No response was heard from Thelma at this point - she apparently had gone into post-traumatic shock.

I fell out of bed the first time I heard this story - it just tickled everyone of my sadistic bones, must to the disgust of Little Sister. But it just goes to reinforce my point, nothing should have more than 4 legs. Thats just way too many.
Ask Little Sister - she agrees with me.

Mrs Kachisa-Sakala!

2006-09-06T11:04:00.000+02:00

Okay, I know I have been really bad with this whole blog thing the last month, but I have a very valid excuse! (you'll find I always do:)
Anyway, have been in the most awful funk for the past month, which has resulted in my being horribly anti-social to all and sundry (yes, even the WWW)! But, not to worry, funk has been dissolved, and I once again have an urgent need to talk nonsence! All is once again right in the universe...argh....

So, today's blog is about the 3rd and final member of the Kachisa Klan - this is one Nyaradzo Kachisa-Sakala, known to me as Nyaru! She's the charmed older sister, who currently resides in Hurricane Central (more commonly known as the Cayman Islands) She's already threatened to do altogether very unsisterly-like things to me if I wrote about her on my blog, but hello, since when did I ever listen! So Sister, here's to airing the laundry!

Sister has a very uncanny ability to flare her nostrils in an altogether impressive display of displeasure - not too unlike bulls when facing matadors! I love it!
She's wise beyond her 27 yrs! *snigger* snigger* ,yes, I told everyone how old you are!
Delete all stereotypes, sister is one darkie who can not only swim, she was CONSISTENTLY Victrix Ladorum at every Gala!!! Makes me wonder where I went wrong, I can barely float.....
All that cliched "living-in-the-shadow-of your-older-sibling" and such, well, its not all a crock - sister's overall impressiveness puts me to shame:(
Her sisterly advice rivals that of even Yoda himself - from another planet you must come, oh sister!
Ever seen lionesses protect their cubs? Sister wouldn't let any harm come to a single hair on my head (and lovely hair it is too!) yes, the head grows ever larger
She is the one person who consistently manages to convince me of doing stuff that really is never in my best interests! Yes sister, remember how you conned me into stealing money from our piggy banks, which resulted in Daddy consfiscating them for good! Endless sucker I am:(
Yes Sister, I admit, your Shona skills are slightly superior to mine - yeah, you know a couple more proverbs than I - see how big a person I am, I've admitted!
Despite being Yoda Part Deux and an altogether Mommy, she's still just one big kid! A juxtaposition of personalities you truly are Sister!
And finallement, Sister has very questionable fashion sense! I think it may have something to do with the whole sage thing (Yoda never seems to remove that horribly unflattering robe...) But not to worry sister, Little Sister and I will make you a fashionista yet!

Sister, you rule - luv ya:)

Sister, sister, my mad little sister!!

2006-08-11T18:19:00.000+02:00

So, in continuation of the muse being on vacation, today's blog is an ode to one Thelma Tambirai Kachisa, more commonly known as, "Little Sister"!!
Where do I begin.....Sister, these are just some of the reasons why I love thee!

Sister Thelma has so many clothes!!!! I've wondered and pondered, and pondered again, HOW she's managed this, considering she's a FREAKIN student!!
She wears her heart on her sleeve - a very endearing quality.
She has all the latest TV series on her laptop BEFORE they're released in SA!! Viva la internet, for without it I would not have watched Prison Break......*sigh*....Wentworth Miller...*sigh*
Although she appears to be the Material Girl, this girl has an intense compassion for humanity
She thinks I'm the coolest thing since iPods! Hang on......those are rather recent aren't they......
She speaks her mind regardless of tsunami-esque repercussions - oh how I wish I had such balls:(
Unlike her extremely unfortunate older sister, she was blessed with ample mammary glands. Oh woe is me, devoid of cleavage.
As far as truly GWASH laughs go, she reigns supreme. Definition - "Gwash" - all things decidedly rural and uncouth.
The Material Girl is one who loves to give - this works out swimmingly for me, coz I love to receive - be it bags, belts, perfume, jackets, BMW M3's, whatever really, not fussy.
And last and least! Sister Thelma is a DRAMA-QUEEN!!! Prone to all manner of theatrics, she's a one woman show!!

But sister, I still luv ya!

Wobbly Bits

2006-08-08T12:25:00.000+02:00

I'm one of those rare females: I'm a girls girl and I'm a guys girl. I'm equally comfortable spending endless hours debating the validity of Cosmo's latest "what's hot" survey, as I am having a beer, scratching my balls and yelling obscenities at soccer players on TV. (the futility of the latter concerns me....)
My father having only 3 daughters never treated us much like girls. Whether it was changing car tires (I really loathe this), fishing, or general gadgety-guy-stuff, I was more boy than girl growing up.
Anyway, point is, I wouldn't say I was a typical female in the term's unflattering entirety. This is why it absolutely baffles me when at times I behave like a TYPICAL female - I am off course referring to my wobbly bits. OH THE SHAME! I went through my entire adolescence tying jerseys around my waist in an effort to detract attention from my rather voluptuous derriere. Yes, only now do I realise that this serves to only magnify the size of my arse! Anyway, I have always been self-conscious about my wobbly bits. Above my waist, they're severely lacking, then God went and played a cruel joke and made up for this below!

This is off course undeniably a very "chick" issue - guys for some reason thats beyond me are totally unaware of their physical shortcomings. Be it chicken-esque legs or a distinct beer boep, guys will happily flaunt all that God gave them. To illustrate this point, I'll tell you about an incident that happened a couple of months ago.

Twas a typical Friday night when I was invited to what was supposed to be a house party (read poor excuse for a drink-up). The evening was progressing pretty tamely indoors when for some reason, people decided it would be nice to go for a swim. Now this is where you can refer to all your stereotypes - I'm black, and aside from obligatory hygiene, I don't care too much for water. What, with my hair now being the centre of my universe and all. So off everyone galloped to the pool, and I grudgingly followed, ensuring I kept a safe distance however! With no hesitation whatsoever, all the guys stripped to their knickers, and jumped right in - oh to not care about jingly body parts......I proceeded to grab a chair and settle in to gawk at the site before me, when before I knew it, chair and I were lifted off the ground and I was unceremoniously dumped in the pool. MY HAIR!!!!

After sharing a few choice expletives with my so-called friends, something very strange happened to me. Somewhere in the anals of my logic, something snapped, and I thought, "ah, fuck-it" And you can all guess what I proceeded to do - I took off all my clothes. Now, NEVER would I EVER have thought that one day I would skinny dip, but that fateful night, that is what I decided to do. I must admit though, it was all strangely liberating - you know all that jazz of feeling free and unhibited - I always thought it was a crock, but apparently not.

So, to cut a long story short, the time came when I had to EXIT the pool - now, entry had been fully clothed, and now I was going to have to somehow get out without baring my buttocks to all and sundry!! Everyone was going to see my wobbly bits! Oh the mortification, I did not know what to do. I procrastinated for a while, contemplating staying in the pool till everyone had gone home, but that idea was quickly scratched when it started to look like all the suspect looking men were the ones lingering in the water. So, I braced myself, mustered all the courage I could in a red thong, and gracefully exited the pool. As soon as I could grab a towel, all grace went out the window, and I bolted for the safety of the house, far away from the leering male glances.

To this day, everytime I think of that incident, I want to promptly dig a hole and stick my head in it. It's not that I actually regret doing it, but that all these people saw my wobbly bits in all their glory! Oh the shame.....

My Muse is on Vacation

2006-08-03T14:30:00.000+02:00

So, I'm all for NOT reinventing the wheel, so when I stumble upon good ideas, I see no problem in emulating them. (okay, I steal without shame)
I was surfing blogs yesterday, and stumbled upon a very kindred spirit. I think her name was Rachael, and like me, her blog is filled with really random and pointless stories. Now since I can think of absolutely NOTHING to say today, I shall happily "plagiarise" and like Racheal, go through each of my friends and famille, and tell you exactly why I love them so!
Have decided that I shall start with Vimbai - so Vim, here's why I keep you around!

An uncanny ability to talk incessantly - Vimbai puts me to shame in the never-shuts-up stakes!
A cutting sense of humour and sometimes dry wit - you know all that jazz about 'birds of a feather' etc etc
The amazing array of interesting "things" on her dressing table. Be it the latest scent from Cosmo's "What's Hot", or hair accessories fit for a Vegas showgirl, Vim has it all!
She is stubbornly loyal to her friends - no matter how hard you try and get rid of her, she keeps coming back!
Vimbai has the most entertaining famille! My 2nd Mom Mrs Gwata never ceases to amaze me:)
Empathetic - we really do love wallowing around in the doldrums together (not too sure how healthy it is, but what fun!)
Great taste in music, save that Ella Fitzgerald stuff! I shall definately consider you for my band:)
And last but not least, Vim always smells so good! What with her HUGE issues with people's body odour and all, it's no wonder!

So that's my ode to Vimbai Edith Gwata!

Tomorrow, watch out for "Ode to Little Sister, Thelma Kachisa"

Road Rage

2006-08-01T17:02:00.000+02:00

I've been told that I drive like a demon - I wouldn't say that I necessarily agree with this assessment, but I'll admit, I do have a penchant for speed and tormenting other road users. Now lest you start thinking I am one of those eejits who should never have been given a licence, quite the contrary, you'd be hard-pressed to find a better driver than me! What with my excellant handling of corners at top speed, and inclination to remind other drivers that the fast lane is indeed for fast cars, I'm the best driver I know!

My one shortcoming though is to quickly descend to a regular My Hyde when I encounter incompetent drivers. Cut in front of me, neglect to use your indicator, or drive at the speed of a funeral dirge, and the demon in me escapes with glee!! I have contemplated carrying placards with suitably obscene remarks to flash at offending drivers, but thought better of it lest "offending driver" is partial to carrying guns and pick-axes. So, I've had to resort to unkosher hand gestures and filthy language (it's not nearly as satisfying)

With no foreseeable end to the constant deluge of bad drivers on the road, I fear that my life is gonna be cut horribly short as a result of all the road rage induced stress. This I think and worry about daily, as I curse and scream obsceneties all the way to work.

The Dangers of Hubbly Bubbly!

2006-07-24T15:56:00.000+02:00

I love my hubbly bubbly - those Sunday nights when I'm bewailing my very existence and cursing the fact that I have to go to work tomorrow, my hubbly provides very good company. Now I fully understand that it's supposed to be a "social" indulgence, done in a group and all, but really, a glass of red, Tracey Chapman and Hubbly and I are good to go. But as with all indulgences, too much of a good thing can be really, really bad:(
Last week, typical Sunday evening, I decided that a good smoke up was in order. The fact that I had just bought some interesting tobacco off a most amiable fellow by the street corner was admittedly huge motivation - so I lit up, turned up the Tracey and took some abnormally long drags!! What heaven, what bliss, what semi-comatose joy! By the time the drags were starting to require elephantine effort, the grin on my face was well and truly plastered. So, when the puffs were no longer forthcoming, I did what any self-indulgent human being would do - REFILL!

As far as bad ideas go, this one ranked right up there in the top box. I was all of 5 mintutes into my fresh batch when everything stopped being eirie, and I started to lose my marbles. Forget the onset of nausea or lack of feeling in my feet, it was the swaying BUILT-IN closet that did it. Never have I felt so horrendously ill:( Lying on my back while trying to get Spiwe to talk me through it was all I could do from revisiting Sunday breakfast.
It was a full and unecessarily long 3 hours before I felt it safe enough to stand again - I keep asking myself why I do these things.

Moral of the Story - Mae West was off her rocker when she said "Too much of a good thing can be wonderful"

I'm Back!!!

2006-07-24T15:08:00.000+02:00

It has been a week long hiatus since my last post, and I must say, I was already starting to feel withdrawal symptoms! This blogging thing is really feeding my nacissism - I'm waiting for my head to explode.
Now, lest you all think that I was simply sitting on my arse, adding no value to society whatsoever the past week, I was actually attending a training course. (I do MANY of these for work - forget the intended learning element, the free food's the clincher) Anyway, like I said, I was on a training course, ie. lots of power point slides, biscuits, group work and presentations. The one thing I learnt? Age is absolutely no factor in "classroom" dynamics - lickarses will always be lickarses, regardless of whether they are officially balding or not. I for one loathe Smart Alecs - I loathed them in school, and now I'm bordering on homicidal!
Now I love hearing the sound of my own voice as much as the next person, but is it absolutely necessary to speak at EVERY given opportunity? When do you cross from being an over-zealous pre-pubescent to jaded adult? Surely this is a path we are all supposed to take? Surely noone still gets pleasure from being the first goon with their hand up as you did when you were 10?

But, would you know it, apparently not! But lickarses aside, I thoroughly enjoyed myself last week. What with there being tea breaks on the hour and decidedly interesting coordinators, what energy I didnt spend trying to digest all the biscuits was spent batting my eyelashes at the course hottie. I shant divulge too many details (this is after all the world wide web), but twas a week well spent.

So eager am I that I have already marked off the dates for the next training course - here's to learning, good biscuits and all that jazz!

It's The Freakin Weekend!!!!!!

2006-07-14T08:40:00.000+02:00

R. Kelly perfectly encapsulated it for me when he said, "It's the freakin weekend, baby I'm about to have me some fun"! YAY, YAY, YAY, tis FRIDAY! Okay, so I do get a tad too excited every Friday, but that's because as far as I'm concerned, the working week is just a darn pitiful waste of my precious time. What, with having to sit behind a desk from 8-4:30pm I'm barely managing to hold onto my sanity! I'll admit, it aint all bad, but since generalisations are just a whole lot funner (suspect English word courtesy of Spiwe), I'll stick to saying I'm a hop and skip (forget the jump) away from the men in white coats.

Just to give you some background info, my "official" job title is Assistant Brand Manager. (I tend to drop the assistant bit in emails - tends to get me more respect......) Anyway, Assistant Brand Manager - won't tell you what brand, or what company lest that comes back to bite me in the ass, but point is, I'm a marketer - a connoisseur of half-truths, twisted facts and false promises:) Truth be told, I marvel at the ingenuity of my industry! Marketing is an art, albeit a slightly dishonest one, it is still an art. But forget work, this post was supposed to be about Friday! (Yes, I have been told I have the attention span of a gnat.....)

So, it's Friday, and here are my top 5 reasons to smirk!

The working day is a whole 30min shorter! It may not sound like much, but those 30min make all the difference between the necessary 4 o'clock ingestion of copious quantities of Snickers, TV bars, smarties and jelly beans, and leaving the office sans sugar-induced shakes.
People in the office tend to be extraordinarily lazy on a Friday. This off course has many advantages - no scheduled meetings, 2 hour lunches, endless hours spent in the pause area, altogether too many personal calls, as well as arriving at the office a full hour late, all the while dubiously muttering about the horrendous traffic.
There's fish and chips on the menu - nuf said!
Friday morning precedes Friday evening - the official night of all things debaucherous - nuf said!
Tomorrow is Saturday - this means, no 6 o'clock wake up calls, no ingestion of dubious quantities of coffee before 10am, and most importanatly, no desk, no computer, no office, no aircon, no work collegues, no mindless office chatter, no lick-arses, ok, I could go on here.

So, here's to a FABULOUS weekend!

Hair is Just Sooooooo Much Drama

2006-07-13T15:14:00.000+02:00

A couple of years ago post traumatic break-up, I decided to practically shave all my hair off. (all that shpeel about new beginnings, purging etc etc) I looked a fright. What, with a head that scarily resembled a soccer ball, and chubby cheeks that stubbornly refused to go away, I realised that my hair used to hide a multitude of sins.
But no worries, I quickly twisted the kinky fuzz that was left, hence creating a respectably funky look that detracted from the roundness that was my face. It took about 2 years for my fuzz to grow to an impressive fro, which I absolutely treasured and took great pleasure in exaggerating!
But the fro was not without it's own drama - to say my mother LOATHED it would be an understatement! Had she had it her way, she would have held me down and poured that relaxer while I kicked and screamed blue murder.
I wish I could say that I was the ideal rebellious child and kept my beloved fro, but alas, last Christmas I caved. I did the unthinkable, I relaxed my hair:( Now for the non-Darkies out there, relaxing entails chemically straightening your hair, aka taming the fro.

So here I am, 7 months down the line, BURDENED with the necessary upkeep and maintenance of "relaxed hair":( Where once I wouldnt have thought twice about running through sprinklers or going surfing (YEAH RIGHT!), now, the question that immediately comes to mind is, "Ah, what about my hair??!!"
How stifling, how limiting, what unecessary DRAMA!

I'm Loving This Idea

2006-07-13T14:25:00.000+02:00

A friend of mine recently set up her own blog, and after perusing her posts, I took a definate liking to the whole idea of having a blog! I, like a lot of people on this planet ALWAYS have something to say (value-adding or not) What a perfect platform to to bank all the random thoughts, ideas, experiences that go on in my life! So here it is, whether or not anyone is paying attention, MY BLOG! Entitled Life, Love and Everything Else (yes, I do realise that I stole that from some British TV show, but hey!), it's gonna be about just that.

I don't lead an extraordinarily interesting/adventurous/enviable/glamorous life, but as far as I am concerned, normality is not such a boring thing these days! So, here's to random posts on how tight my pants are becoming or how horrendous cafeteria food is, oh, and offcourse, the local office hottie.
Here's to Life, Love and Everything Else.

Life, Love and Everything Else

Happy Birthday to Me:)

Narcissim.....what exactly is the problem???

Everything's Changing.......

Le Weekend....(is that even French???)

Facebook-less:(

Another Step to RockStardom!!!

Gorgeousness and Fabulousness:)

Welcome to The World Tereese and Christopher

The Struggle Continues.....*sniff*....*sniff*

Black Blacker Blackness - Part Deux!!

Black, Blacker, BLACKNESS!!

I think I can, I think I can!!

Day 2

Masochism - A willingness or tendency to subject oneself to unpleasant or trying experiences.

Burn Baby Burn!

And It's Been a While, Since I Last Saw You

Farewell Dear Skin, Farewell....

She's Back, she's back, she's back!

Mischief and Madness - The Truth about Older Sister

Pipi and House - A Lesson in Stupidity

Pedro, Pedro, You Came Undone

The Silly Season, Tis Over:(

School Days

Thin Line...

I Wanna Be a Rockstar!!!

Bad Day!!!!

Fear of 8 Legs Creates A Pornstar!

Mrs Kachisa-Sakala!

Sister, sister, my mad little sister!!

Wobbly Bits

My Muse is on Vacation

Road Rage

The Dangers of Hubbly Bubbly!

I'm Back!!!

It's The Freakin Weekend!!!!!!

Hair is Just Sooooooo Much Drama

I'm Loving This Idea

The Struggle Continues.....sniff....sniff