Seriously though, "Auf Wiedersehen" is the hardest word... to say...and spell! Can someone give me the phonetics so i can at least pronounce it semi-perfectly, like ze Germans, lol. I listen to Heidi Klum say it every time she boots off a contestant on Project Runway, but it never sticks in my head long enough.
Anywho, i digress! Today in T-minus, 40 minutes (shoot, i have to write this post pretty fast then) a very good mate of mine is relocating and joining the masses of diasporans out there!
I am very sad (obviously for selfish reasons) but more often than not, i am happy for her :-) Without getting too mushy, she's been my rock through the bad times and my partner in crime during the good times.
She will be sorely, sorely missed *sniff sniff*
I will miss you a lot hun, but expect lots of emails to more than make up for it!
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
I'm pretty vocal about my current love for Lil Wayne's track, "Lollipop". It has the most infectious beat and you can just picture yourself dancing to it while its blaring in the club.
Lyric-wise however, i will be the first to admit that it's the most ill-disguised ode to bl*w jobs ever written and is definitely not age appropriate or for sensitive listeners.
So why, oh why, does MTV Base (which for some unrealistic reason is Family rated) on playing this track with the majority of the lyrics all edited out so it sounds like Lil Wayne has a major case of the hiccups?
What kills me though is that although most of the words are edited out in the video, there are plenty of scantily clad women and non-family-friendly hand gestures being made to leave no doubt in the viewer's mind as to what the song is really about. How come all that wasn't edited out?
Censoring anything is very dicey busy, some people argue that it takes away an individual's freedom of speech. There's also the matter that you can't really go half & half when censoring anything. And of course, the age old question, when the censoring begins when does it actually end?
Either play the whole song or just forget it (the edited version sounds so bitty)...unless Lil Wayne can be persuaded to record a "clean" version of the song to play on these so-called Family-rated channels :-)
Sunday, April 27, 2008
I'm no animal activist, well not in the true, committed sense of the title. I'm a long ways away from frolicking in the buff in some anti-fur campaign or cycling 20,000km to help raise money to save some species.
I do agree however (after watching copious amounts of National Geographic channel), that all creatures great and small, cute and creepy (yes, even spiders) deserve to right to be treated compassionately, have the right to live and should under no circumstances should any part of them be made into accessories.
The Red Cockatoo
Sent as a present from Annam -
A red cockatoo.
Coloured like the peach-tree blossom,
Speaking with the speech of men.
And they did to it what is always done
To the learned and eloquent.
They took a cage with stout bars
And shut it up inside.
Po Chu (translated by Arthur Waley)
Some people say
Animal liberators are not
Working in the interest of animals.
But i've never seen liberated animals
Protest by going back to their place
But then again
I've never heard of any liberated slaves
Begging for more humiliation
Or voting for slavery.
Animals vote with their feet
Or their wings
Or their fins.
I saw a jolly hunter
I saw a jolly hunter
With a jolly gun
Walking in the country
In the jolly sun.
In the jolly meadow
Sat a jolly hare.
Saw the jolly hunter.
Took jolly care.
Hunter jolly eager -
Sight of jolly prey.
Forgot gun pointing
Wrong jolly way.
Jolly hunter jolly head
Over heels gone.
Jolly old safety catch
Not jolly on.
Bang went the jolly gun.
Hunter jolly dead.
Jolly hare got clean away.
Jolly good, I said.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Ouch, ouch, ouch!
Somebody please tell me why I got a freaking sty on my left eye* Thankfully, you can’t actually see it and hopefully it doesn’t mutate into anything horrid anytime soon. It explains why my left eye was tearing up all day by itself (read: unprompted by a soppy advert or Hallmark film). I felt like one of those soapie stars from The Bold & Beautiful who always seem to only cry in one eye.
In my culture, if you get a sty in your eye it means you’ve seen someone of the opposite sex naked! Honestly, I don’t know who came up with such maratas** ‘cause most of you reading this here blog would have been struck down days ago, hahaha.
No, but seriously, I have not looked at any naked anyone’s in a very long time, so what gives?
I was going to be mean and post a pic of a sty, but thought better of it***. I mean, I would have to look at it everytime I got onto my blog and honestly, I don’t really need a reminder that I have/had one. Instead, I put a mini-montage together of pretty eyes instead.
Have a fabulous weekend people, x
* Hey, that line sorta rhymed, clever me
** Rubbish, Bull-dust
*** More like i got put off by the gems that Google Images had on display, urgh!
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
My preferred hairstyle in an ideal world would probably be no hair at all, No Mess, No Fuss. Seeing as I have neither the head shape nor nerve to go bald I am burdened with coming up with new and interesting ways of doing my hair.
Sadly, I lack effort in this arena because most often than not I’m not bovvered. The fact that I even bother to run a comb through my hair in the morning is more a form of common courtesy to all those who have to look at me during the day, lol.
Once in a while, however, I have been known to do something interesting with my hair that has not only turned out great, but that also puts me in a good mood for weeks on end.
My current hairstyle is not doing that. I’ve had it for all of seven days and all I know is, it has to go!
Last week, when I was telling you guys about how my hairdresser was regaling me with her spooky stories, I omitted to mention just why I was there. You see, I had got into my head that day that I was going put a long a*s hair weave into my hair. It’s hardly the first weave to grace my head, but it’s certainly the most troublesome.
Sometime during last Wednesday and today it morphed from glossing long locks to tangled mess, I feel like I am walking around with a dead cat on my head. Come tomorrow morning its definitely going to be a thing of the past, unfortunately, that now means I have to invest some creative energy…and money, in a new hairdo, boo!
As bad as it all sounds, its much better than uneven hair cut my dad gave me at the age of 7! I swear, I had the most uneven afro. To this day I still haven’t gotten a reasonable explanation as to why the heck he was cutting my hair in the first place, tsk tsk.
What have been your most unfortunate hairstyles in the past?
Sunday, April 20, 2008
It’s a truth universally acknowledged, that a
single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife guy pal who’s reaching the big 3-0 & acquired a long-term significant other is not going be as available to hang out with as he was in the past.
Slowly but surely, my guy pals are being taken down slowly. The men who used to argue into the night that Bachelourhood was a permanent rather than transient state and who used to change girlfriends/bedmates so frequently I gave up trying to remember any of their names are the very same men that can’t stay out too late because the missus would be mad. It’s hilarious to witness this metamorphosis.
I miss the days of being the first lady of this crew but I’m all for embracing natural progression! Lord knows, my days of polishing off a large pizza just to prove to the boys that I could are way behind me. I am grateful that for about 3 years they showed me a testosterone way of life (it helped explain a few things about the opposite sex) and threw me out of my oestrogen-dominated comfort box.This is not goodbye, ha!, it takes a little more than that to shake me off ;-) Rather, it's a, "See you around pal."
Now for a little humour courtesy of the folks at Youtube…or rather, the folks who upload stuff at Youtube.
The first one comes courtesy of my younger sister which shows off her twisted sense of humour but practically begging me to check this out
And if none of that made you giggle, then some non-PG13 humour from Cyanide & Happiness will do just the trick, enjoy.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Yesterday morning, my hairdresser and I were busy chatting about, well nothing really. She would grill me about the usual stuff she grills me about, “Why aren’t you married” and “Why don’t you come in more often to fix up your hair.”, both statements are always said with a very disapproving tone to them. I usually mumble back whatever my latest excuse is and then I’m off scott-free. However yesterday, the conversation took a turn for the supernatural somewhat.
She started telling me some OTHER ish of the supernatural kind that had been going on in her house, ie; doors slamming, someone moving around furniture, funny sounds etc. At this point I was positively squirming around in my chair, what she didn’t realise is that she was SO telling the wrong person this gwan.
I am the biggest Scaredy Cat you will EVER meet; I think the official term is a person who suffers from a Nervous Disposition. You couldn’t pay me enough to watch a horror flick ‘cause I will dream about it for months, and months to come. It doesn’t even need to be a horror, even suspense filled drama’s are enough to send me into palpitation overdrive.
I remember going to the movies to watch Sixth Sense with some mates back in varsity, I bought my ticket, walked in with everyone and sat down. Now if you ask me what the heck Sixth Sense is about, I will be only able to recite whatever wikipedia has to say about it because I didn't actually watch the movie….my eyes were closed tight and I had my fingers in my ears for all 90 minutes of it.
So when my hairdresser was busy divulging yesterday I was inwardly hyperventilating. So its no surprise that I hardly slept 4hrs last night and that every single creak and random noise had my imagination working overtime.
When it comes to movies, I will stick with my usual fluff-like selections and if in future, any of you feel the need to discuss anything to do with things that go bump in the night, just know right now;
I am not your girl!
Monday, April 14, 2008
There are days, like today, when i wish i didn't have to act, behave or even be a grown up. When i wish someone else could be accountable, responsible, in-charge and on-top of things and leave me to my devices, for at least 24hours...
On some days, like today, i swear all i want to do is cry for my mummy to come over and make it all better. But the reality is, i am a grown a*s woman and just need to get it together :-)
Days like today don't happen all that often but when they do, all i want to do is hide under the covers until i'm ready to face the music and just deal.
At least i'm not alone, everyone else seems to be muddling through life like me, playing at grown-up until it actually feels like you're one (some do a better impression of it than others).
Now if what these new surveys (and Jay Z) are saying is true, that 30's are the new 20's, then that explains all the angst, its 'cause i'm a teenager again. However, this time round i don't have the chunky boots, black nail polish, dark rimmed eyes and black lipstick to alert people to the inner turmoil i am experiencing.
Nope, like the grown up I'm trying to be, i have to suck it up and put on my happy face and just deal, quietly and privately...no inappropriate outbursts and displays of emotion allowed here. here.
In my opinion, Growing Up Sucks!
and we'd like to be
for a few years yet.
The world's not ready [..]
we're not ready for the world,
we're still trying to learn."
Myron Lysenko - "Pets and Death and Indoor Plants"
Thursday, April 10, 2008
About a month ago I got a random text message that went something like this, “Hi my name is X and I’ve been trying to get your number for six months and need to talk to you about some business related matters.”
Six months, if it takes you THAT long to get someone’s number then there’s something definitely up.
I didn’t recognise X’s name at all and replied asking where or from whom X had got my number and what “business” was he talking about. I really shouldn’t have replied, but curiosity got the better of me, but for future reference, Rule 1: Do not correspond with terrorists & would-be stalkers, it only leads them on.
A few minutes later, I got back a text from X saying he didn’t want to tell me his sources but still wanted to talk to me. At this point, I was unamused, stored stalker’s number under my phone as ‘Spooky Dude” and left it at that.
In the following weeks, I would get more random text messages like, “Sorry for not calling, I will get back to you at the end of the week.” Ummm, which part of , “Who gives a flying duck and back off!” does this man not understand, but still, I didn’t respond. I wasn’t about to spend good airtime on a loon anyway, lol.
Now imagine my surprise when this past weekend I picked up a copy of the local newspaper and saw the name of my would-be stalker in huge print, with a big a*s mug shot to go with! Turns out, my would be stalker is some local celebrity of sorts, although, that’s not saying much either (read: I’m not bovvered!).
I was weakened (more from convulsing into a fit of giggles), confused and concluded that this must be some sort of mix up or a prank at the very least? After all, I had no idea who the dude is (celebrity or otherwise) and I certainly have no “business” to conclude with him.
Now if i had been even semi-stalked by, lets say Tiger Woods, Jay Z or JT...my oh my, the stalker would definitely would have become the stalkee....*sigh* a girl can only dream, lol.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
I hate being in Limbo, it sucks...its like being in The Matrix and everything is going super super slow. I feel like i am waiting for a thousand and one things to happen, for life to just continue!
In the meantime i will have to find ways to distract myself from this purgatory i'm in. Feel free to suggest ways to pass my time, coz i'm all out of ideas at this point in time.
PS Happy Birthday Honey xoxoxoxox