That was a strange ______ to ______

That was a strange surface to eat your chip off of:
 I had an extremely humbling experience in the elusive "Tiger Tiger" in Cape Town a couple weeks ago. Humbling because I learned that I am no better than the 2-for-1 long island ice tea that I drink. However, I was humbled in more ways than one on this particular evening, mainly due to the fact that it ended with me losing a fight (and my dignity) against a disgusting chip schwarma and an unfriendly taxi driver with no sense of humour.
You don't need to know all the details, the main part of the story is that I did eat a crushed slap chip straight off of the sole of my boot. (hopefully from MY schwarma, God help me if it was just off the street, chances are good though) no napkins, no sanitizer, no pride. All I can do is hope that somebody paid me.

That was a strange way to clean the house:
My sweet boyfriend ( bless his soul) is an extremely neaurotic cleaner. I'm talking crazy clean freak, like shower 6 times a day, must use coasters, wear medical booties around the house type of clean freak. It comes out even more so when he is pissed. I found this out the hard way.... After a night of big drinking and small midget tossing, we returned home. Once home, I passed out right away. I mean, went to sleep right away because I was so tired and not drunk at all. I was awakened by the shrieking sounds of a man "singing" at about 4am. Feeling troubled, I ventured downstairs to find the most curious sight: my boyfriend, stark naked, sprawled on his belly on the floor, iPod plugged into his ears,singing along like a lunatic, doing some kind of dance move that appeared to be a hybrid between a pelvic thrust and the worm, cleaning the floor with the tiniest sponge you have ever seen. It was hands-down the most bizarre thing I had ever seen. He didn't even notice me. So I did what any good girlfriend would do,I took a picture of his nakedness, then went straight back to bed.

That was a strange place to defaecate:
My friend Squiggy once told me of a horrific robbery at their home which is on a small holding in Plettenburg bay. However, it is horrific for reasons that may not immediately come to mind. Somebody tried to break into their house by getting in through a bedroom window. The alarm went off (as a good alarm does) and gave the perpetrator such a fright that he actually crapped in his pants. They found this out when they investigated the sight of breached security (the window) and outside on the ground they found a pair of shitty underpants stuffed in some jeans. It was like he just pulled everything straight off in one go and ran for the hills. And he would've got away with the humiliating mock robbery too, had he not left his ID book in the pocket of his jeans. Apparently he was one of their employees.
He was fired for being a dumbass and for shitting on their property.

That was a strange way to wake up:After an intensive night of liver abuse, I once woke up alone (thank God)  lying horizontal across my bed, on top of my pillows, completely naked. With not a stitch of duvet covering me. My first thought was "Oh my God, what if somebody had walked in on this disaster that is my naked behind while I was asleep?" Little did I know that that was the least of my problems. My piggy little bloodshot eyes then toured around my room where more nightmares came alive. Next to my bed was not one, but two crinkled up pie packets, complete with crumbs, and a half eaten cupcake . But that was not my problem. My problem was the empty can of DOOM which lay on its side directly next to my bed, and, in turn, my face (my bed was just a mattress on the floor at this stage in my life) surrounded by a sea of dead ants which stretched from the cupcake to the door. It was horrendous. My room looked like a crime scene. I didn't know how I would ever get out. Imagine my shock when later that afternoon I eventually found my car and discovered yet another 2 pies stashed under the car seat. By jove, what a way to wake up.

That was a strange place to leave your shoes:My sister came to Stellenbosch to visit me for a couple of weeks. She couldn't handle the intensity of it and had to leave shortly after, but that's irrelevant. One night we went out, and she'd had a few too many so she decided to go home with her friend and just sleep over at her place. I expected to only see her much later the following day and so carried on with my daily routine. At the petrol station (where I stopped to buy hangover food) I drove over a pair of broken pumps sitting perfectly side by side in the middle of the petrol station. On closer inspection, I realised that these were my sister's shoes! I placed them in a very sterile pie packet and drove home where I was greeted by my very hungover sister who was complaining about how sore her feet were because she had to walk home barefoot. The conversation went something like this:  "Um, I found your shoes", "where?", "at Engen", "oh ya, I forgot about that, I got irritated with them because they kept falling off so I just walked out of them and carried on with my life". "Cool". Its nice to live in the moment like that. Especially when you've got to walk 5km the next day in blistering heat with a hangover and no shoes. Smart move.

That was a strange place to throw up:I threw up on a church once. Did not mean any disrespect, nor was I trying to give the church attitude. The church just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Shame for the church. And my poor soul which has probably been struck off the list by now. To my defense I only found out it was a church when my solid-as-faith friend made me return to the site the next day to clean it up. Forgive me.
That was a strange place to fall asleep:

I love you, Man

So my boyfriend of 3 and a half years has recently come out of the closet and has admitted that he has several man crushes.
He's informed me that they are nothing to be alarmed about, but he was wondering, if he got the opportunity, would he be able to pursue them in the hope of landing a conquest that involved a night filled with passion and infinite talk of football? And would I consider it cheating? Then he laughed and said he was joking. Which I'm sure he wasn't. I think not.

Apparently man crushes are fairly common. I mean I guess I have a girl crush? I'd probably marry Shakira and her honest hips, given half the chance. Who wouldn't? I also imagine seducing her in a dance off and then her hugging me erotically and congratulating me when I beat her. But that's where my fantasy ends. When my dreams are destroyed because my celebrity girl crush wants nothing to do with me or my seductive dance routine. Too bad so sad. Life must go on.

 Wouldn't you?

Although I have allowed myself one celebrity girl crush,
Kyle's celebrity man crush list seems to go on forever and consists of several untouchable members of the Arsenal football squad. He's claimed he would give himself to those guys in a way that you've only ever read about in the health clinic. I'd love to see that though. He would probably be so nervous and choked up he'd pee his pants and cry. And then his man crush would not want to be his friend. I can't say I'm not jealous though, he looks at Oxlaide Chamberlain, Jack Wilshere and Theo Walcott in ways he has never looked at me. Not to mention the fact that he carries around an ID photo of Cesc Fabregas (which he so lovingly cut and mounted so neatly) in his wallet. Are we worried?

 MY COMPETITION:

                   

A single man crush does not bother me, nor does a couple of harmless celebrity crushes. (Who is he kidding, Theo will never invite him back to his lush apartment to continue their conversation on the humidity in his left sock.)  However, I don't really understand the concept of man crushes on non-celebrities. Like commoners. Like

people you actually know.

For example, I have noticed the "bro luv" between Kyle and one of his best friends, Steve. They practically look at each other with heart shaped eyes and Kyle ignores me when they are together. They tell each other how spiffy they look and they drink out of the same beer glass. Its wierd..
Kyle's also started stealing the love of my best man friend, Tony. With Kyle's strong jaw line and love for football and beer, it was like man-love at first sight for Tony. He doesn't come over to visit me anymore, he comes over to visit Kyle. Breaks my heart really.

Is my Boyfriend stealing my boyfriends? Or are my boyfriends stealing my Boyfriend? How puzzling.
My advice: if you start seeing heart shaped eyes between your significant other and a friend of yours who is of the same sex, kill the relationship. Or perhaps even one of them, if you must be so drastic. But make the sacrifice of losing one of them so you can keep your favourite one before they are gone forever. Do whatever you have to before it gets too late. Nothing is too extreme. I'm talking hiring the crew from "Cheaters", taking a baseball bat to their windshield to frame a crime of passion, or hiding fake photographs or letters in and around their belongings to frame them of cheating on one another. Its a small sacrifice to make. Do anything to stop the man-love before it gets out of hand and they start carrying around pictures of each other in their wallets instead of pictures of you.
I'm not bothered about it, I'm just saying.

A tribute to the 90's

The 90's was a great era. So youthful (well, depending on your age, I suppose....) So full of pop, teased hair, and swing tops with impossibly high necklines that made even a 10 year old look preggers. I loved the 90's for so many reasons, it was the prime of my life really (aged 2-12 years)


You were all there at some stage (except you,you baby prostitute who is only 12 years old, go away from my blog)


Here are a few things that caused me to reminesce and write this blog because they are just too boss to be forgotten....


Tamagotchi's: These were amazing. Tiny computerized animals that had all the same needs and functions of a human. They had to shit, eat, sleep and be loved just like us. Oh how we can learn from our beloved tamagotchi's! I never had one. My mom told me they were stupid, so I used to get to look after all my friends' tamagotchi's when they had their own needs to take care of (eat,shit, sleep etc) it was all fun and games until they started to go out of fashion and I had to drop out of school to take care of all the kids. You know how it is...they grow up so fast!

Hankerchief crop tops: Remember those tops made out of spandex which only covered the front half of your body and was held together by that bungy cord-type elastic at the back? Loved those things. They didn't love me though. I distinctly remember wearing one to the grade 7 "disco" and thinking I was kak hot. Until I walked past a group of boys and one shouted "ah sick!!!" And another started throwing up. At first I put the incident down to them being exposed to something really gross or participating in underage drinking at the disco, but the more I think about it, the more I recall that the "gross thing" was actually me in a back-less 'kerchief top.....just the kind of push you need when you're a 13 year old girl with body issues and a bit more hair than the rest of her peers.


Disco's: ah Discos. The best. Such a stressful time for a teenager. You planned your outfit months ahead, then on the date  had to stay home all day from school feigning sickness so you could get ready. You know, iron your hair (with an iron, there were no such things as ghd's), or plait your hair early in the morning and spend the day wearing corn rows and talking black so you could have desirable curls at night (ahem ,Kenny....), shaving your 3 armpit hairs, experimenting kissing techniques on your pillow/hand/mirror/dog to perfect your style in case you got lucky and trying on a variety of combinations of outfits before falling to a heap on the floor crying that you were ugly and had nothing to wear. All of this and its only 1pm. "Oh God no! Only 5 hours to get ready for the disco! How much time I have wasted!" Cue another distressing episode of crying and personal attacks. Then when you eventually got to the sad disco: you twisted your ankle because you were wearing platform shoes, you drank too much Oros and got that suspicious orange ring around your mouth, and no one asked you to dance. What a disappointing night.Couldn't wait to do it all over again the next year.


Roller discos: Same as above, but involves knee pads, roller blades and hands and knees covered in gravel and blood.

A series of crap and unsuccessful boy/girl bands: We all loved them. We all knew the words to their songs. We all had a fantasy about hooking up with Nick Carter, (Then being gutted when he leapt out of the closet, even though we secretly knew the whole time). We all made our parents spend their hard earned cash on Platform "Spice" Shoes (as well as all the other products in their wide range), just so that we could put out hair into pigtails and pretend to be "Baby Spice" or whatever the hell her name was. Why the crap names? "Scary Spice"? "Sporty Spice"? "Posh Spice"? "Sexy Spice"? Bloody hell, they could sure as hell give Robertsons a run for their money with all their bloody spices. And what was the deal with the boy bands? Talking about crap names, here's just a few to make you question the musical talent of society:

• N*SYNC
• Boyz II Men
• West Life?
• Backstreet Boys (Ummmmm....what back street are you talking about here?)
• Aqua
• Venga Boyz
• All Saints

  






                       VS.














Gelled fringes and Hawaiin shirts: Need I say more about this combination?


To conclude, it must be noted that the 90's was a fantastic decade. So fun-filled and brightly coloured, with a constant Spice girls / Back street boys soundtrack in the backround. How fitting.

Hobo vs. Student: A comparison

HOBO	STUDENT
Hobos lose teeth from hobo fights and biting pavements	Students lose teeth by drinking out of glass bottles and walking on uneven ground
Hobo's acquire their clothes from God knows where and pay little, or nothing, to achieve their "grunge"  look	Sudents pay large sums of blood money and tear holes in their perfectly good clothes to achieved the "sophisticated hobo" look. ‘Slebs have even caught onto the money saving scheme. Mary Kate Olsen has even had a fashion trend named after her:
Hobos don’t need toilet paper. They just use small animals or their pants.	Students go to great lengths to steal toilet paper from wherever possible, even if it means being caught on CCTV and throwing away their dignity.
Hobos sleep on very cleverly constructed make-shift beds made from a variety of everyday or household items, stolen goods and garbage. Hobos look at the world in a very unique way: that everything is theirs for them to sleep on.	Students sleep where ever they fall, in gutters, on toilet seats, in cars (that more than likely don’t belong to them), or on pavements. The comfort of the sleeping area directly depends on how much alcohol said student has consumed.
Hobos can crap their pants whenever they feel like it and nobody cares and / tells all their friends that a hobo crapped his pants. Because it is really quite alright and regular.	Students crap their pants if they get too drunk. It almost always occurs in a strange bed and when they perpetrator wakes up, a girl/ boy whom they don’t know is usually cowering in a corner rocking themselves and whimpering, there is also another bunch of strangers standing next to your bed pointing at a dark smudge on the mattress that matches the one on your pants. Shameful really.

South Africa: FAQ

This blog is dedicated to all the ignorant foreigners(ok, mainly Americans) who wish to travel to South Africa,expecting to see the big five at the drop of a hat and are surprised when there are no lions roaming the uncivilised "cities". If you are not an ignorant foreigner and have never asked any of these ridiculous questions then you have no need to feel mortified.

Please note: these are actual questions that I have been asked. If you have ever come across any gems, please do comment...


1. Are there white people in South Africa?


There is a simple answer to this, you simple minded racist American who has no passport and no idea about history outside of your own country (which takes up more space than it's worth): Yes, there are white people in South Africa. The British colonised this country, and, in doing so, brought their whiteness to the black South African soil. No, the whites have not died out in South Africa and are still very much alive. In fact, a white person is answering your question right now! Imagine that...

2. Is apartheid still in effect in South Africa?


No, you half wit. Take your finger out of your bum and read the news once in a while. If apartheid was still in effect you would not be allowed to come to our fabulous country because you're a self righteous, hypocritical prick who can frown on apartheid but can't admit that you gave your very own negro slave a good thrashing with your "foreign and exotic" ostrich leather belt (which,ironically,was made at the hands of another slave).


3. Will I be murdered in South Africa?


If that is your attitude, do not come here. If you look at every South African like they're a murderer you might actually convince them. And wind up getting yourself killed. In which case your fears were spot on, so you win, I guess. But then you'll be dead so you can't brag about it. The jokes on you. Ha.


4. Are there lions and other dangerous predators roaming the streets?


Yes and no. There are no lions in the streets. Although I have spotted a few predators. These come in the form of petty thieves and policemen who troll the streets looking for cars parked the right way,the wrong way,on the pavement,in a tree etc. When they find you, they will fine you. They seem to think it is better to keep crime down on the streets in the form of issuing speeding and parking fines rather than saving that victim of a violent mugging that occurred because said victim was walking around with an extravagant camera hanging around their neck (that's you, by the way) But no, the only "wild" animals roaming the streets are dogs with rabies and pompous tourists who've had one too many.

5. Can I carry my camera around my neck?


No. See above for reason.


6. What are the usual prices etc for meals, drinks, etc.?


Drinks: depending on where you go, ranging from between R5 and R50.
 R5 drinks may be found at any student gathering where the bartender is so drunk he accepts your bottle caps as a currency and there is a lady on the floor with no pants on who is feasting on people's shoelaces.
The drinks get more expensive the closer you get to civilization. Head to an area such as camps bay and you could be expected to pay anywhere between R40 and R500 for a drink that barely moistens your mouth and leaves you with a bitter after taste as well as an empty pocket.
Food: feast on red meat and biltong while you can, poor city dweller! The price of meat in South Africa is far cheaper when compared to your sorry town which considers 15 minutes enough time for a good steak to mature. Shame shame shame. That's the only important thing to know I suppose, otherwise the price of food is all relevant to how much you eat, really. So, if you're fat, bring lots of money for food. If you're thin, bring little money for food...that's how it works anyway isn't it?


7. What should I pack in the way of clothing?


Erm....clothes. Are you always this dumb when you travel? Surely you consider driving to work "travelling"? What do you do then? Fret about what outfit to where on the road and then end up wearing nothing because you had too many options and couldn't choose? Shame.
How about bulking up on your geography and look at the weather situation over here. In summer it's hot. Very hot. Depending on where you are, summer in South Africa ranges between extreme perspiration and melt-your-face-off. When it is winter it is proportionately cold. Except in durban. But everywhere else in South Africa can expect a bone chilling and Himalayan "yetty" socks kind of cold. So dress accordingly.


8. How will I get around and what transport is available?


Well, you can hire a car, but then you must be a capable driver who is prepared to drive on the right side of the road and dice with just about every CY driver out there. If you doubt your ability (which you should, South Africans don't drive, they race) then I don't know what to recommend. Taxi's are frightening and you have a greater chance of losing your life (and your belongings) in one of those than twisting your ankle in a child's ball pond. (The chances of that are nominal by the way). Buses are only starting to get their shit together now, and the train is affordable but scary if you're alone.
I would recommend the good old fashioned foot. (If you have one, although two are recommended).


9. Will I get HIV/AIDS if I travel to South Africa?


Why do you ask? Do you get stupid if you walk into a room full of people with low IQ's?
Unless you like to dabble in some "slap 'n tickle" with hobo's or banging everything that hip thrusts in your direction then you're pretty safe.
You're actually probably most susceptible to TB and other diseases that attack people with low immune systems. I would recommend a strong vaccination against stupidity and ignorance and plenty of book reading to decrease your likelihood of doing anything ridiculous.


I hope all of your questions were answered. If you have anything more worth asking, do not contact me. Look it up, you ignorant swine.

A series of unfortunate misunderstandings....

You know those moments when you think someone said something that they did not, but you acted according to what you thought they said,or you come to school dressed in civvies on the wrong day, or when you nod, smile and agree to something which you didnt even hear? Or maybe you pulled some innocent dance move on someone whom you thought to be a willing participant and they called the police. A small Misunderstanding is all it is. They happen to everyone.

So I have this friend Anel, prounced like a- nel. Not anal. I called her Anal once. She didn't like it. I saw things I wish I'd never seen that day, things an afrikaans girl shouting in something that was neither Afrikaans nor English, and a swift movement with a very sharp pinkie nail which had been kept hidden by an Austrian glove for the precise moments when people called her "Anal". I nearly lost an eyebrow. Razor sharp that nail was.
The history of her misunderstood name stems from a dyslexic man with an orange beard. His girlfriend is Anel's cousin and was out trying to find something to  buy for anel on her birthday. Finally when she found the perfect gift, she texted her boyfriend. " I brought Anel earrings", to which he understood "I bought Anal earrings".....:mmm.... You can see how he could be confused. At which point he muttered under his breath "I really wish you hadn't". Cue hilarious laughter and ridicule. Particularly when anel was presented with the earrings. Meant for the ears of course (what would one even call anal earrings? analings? That gives me an image of dingleberries, which, if I'm correct, is not far from the truth.....

Another small misunderstanding due to not listening and a poor comprehension in the English language occurred when I was in grade 7 during a performance of the Wizard of Oz. I looked very gay and munchkinny dressed in my oversized skirt and night cap. Whislt my friend Mel and I crouched behind a mushroom (awaiting to leap out and scare the Lion) I was stung by a bee. A bee on the set of the Wizard of Oz! Preposterous! It was excrutiating! I cried silently and announced to Mel in a whisper that I had been stung by a bee. At which she responded by looking at me incredulously and with disgust before whispering in a very harsh voice that I should remove myself immediately from behind the mushroom and get off the stage before I embarrassed myself. I didn't really understand her. I suppose a bee sting can be quite embarrassing? I didn't want to offend the crowd with my bee sting so I crept off the stage and hid in the curtains, missing the only 5 minutes of fame I have ever had in my short life. The misunderstanding comes to light when, after the play, I was pointed and  laughed at and called "wee wee munchkin" by all the other "cool" grade 7's. It turned out Mel had thought I had said "I just peeed!", so she claimed she was saving me from social suicide by telling me to get off the stage. Just as well she told the whole grade then that I peed my pants when I didn't. Nice. And the worst is that no one belives you when you say "I didn't just pee in my pants"....."Yeah ok, sure you didn't...."

This next misunderstanding may be the reason why my friend's mom laughs like a lunatic and calls me camel when she sees me. I was at home for the university holiday and had to catch up some studying for a psychology assignment about depression in adolescents, so I decided to get ahead and do some light reading on the subject. After reading an article about camel humps for about 2hours I came out feeling very confused and worried. So I phoned my very wise Dr friend Squiggy to ask her opinion on the matter:
Me: "Hey Squ, have you started reading up on psych yet?"
Squ: "Yes, have you?"
Me: "Well I've tried but I don't understand it, maybe you can help me. I really don't understand how camels have anything to do with psychology and adolescents. I know that they can store water in their humps and have multiple eyelids to protect them from sand and wind, but how does that affect their mental state? Do they suffer from depression because they live in an arid desert? Or because they have to survive invasive sand storms day in and day out? Or because arabs keep riding them and don't pay them? And how do they even measure depression in camels?! Please tell me what you came up with?"
Squ: "Um....... I think you read the article we had to read for biology instead....."
At which point Squiggy burst out laughing, dropped the phone and called her mom to tell her about my "hilarious" misfortune.
See? A simple misunderstanding which cost me my dignity as well as my mental well being. How about using that for a case study on depression?

Congrajulashins! Your cellnumber was picked in the Vodacom millionairs competishin and Yuo have wun R130 000 0 00. To clam your winings call Dr Joseph on 082 596 3698

Who hasn't received an sms like the one above?? Shame on you! You have yet to feel the confusion between excitement and anger when you win a fake competition that is in fact trying to steal from you.

With reference to my previous blog "I like to win competitions", you must understand that,by now, I like to win competitions. Therefore you can imagine my disappointment when I received this sms to call back Dr Joseph to claim my "winings" of millions. I was in a moral dilemma. I was torn between criticizing the millions of spelling and grammar mistakes which existed in but a single sms (surely its not possible to be THAT crap at English?) And making excuses for the composer of the sms because I so badly wanted to win those millions. And why should I have to phone them? I am a peasant and can't afford to phone people.

But I did. I phoned Dr Joseph just to check if I had, in fact, won my millions. He acted surprised when I called back, I imagined his face to look like a deer caught in the headlights, which I'm sure wasn't far off. He didn't sound like he was English, or even remotely literate. In fact, he sounded suspiciously like the man who had tried to steal my bike right from between my legs a couple weeks earlier using nothing but a walking stick and an off-looking wig.....He told me to call back in 5 minutes, so, instead of smelling a rat, I called back in 5 minutes. Then Dr Joseph confirmed with me that I had won the millions and asked me for my I'd number and my banking details. Then I told him I would call him back. You know, play hard to get.

So maybe I called my mom and several other friends before being advised to actually call Vodacom to verify my winnings. They confirmed that Dr Joseph was running a scam and I was a gullible lunatic for believing the SMS that was sent around to just about every Vodacom user to heighten their chances of selecting some poor, desperado tosser who couldn't distinguish between illiterate con artists and road signs. Enter: myself. How embarassing.

I was furious that it had all been a scam and it had played on my emotions of being a winner!

Most people would have left it there, feeling deflated and a bit silly. But no, not I. Instead I did call back Dr Joseph and told him that I knew that he was running a scam and that I had alerted Vodacom, the local police force, as well as tipped off the "HAWKS" that he was running an illegal scam and murdering neighbourhood cats..... Extreme? I think not. (I just threw in the cat story to spice it up a little. Needless to say the SAPS did not appreciate my sincerity)

All to which Dr Joseph replied "very well" and hung up on me. I couldn't believe that he didn't even fight for his cause?! Although I'm kind of glad because I did walk around looking over my shoulder for a couple months worrying that I had threatened the wrong prankster. I doubt it though, for someone who spelled "claim" as "clam", I think I need not worry.