Monday, March 29, 2010

Window seat, please!

There’s nothing like clutching one’s boarding pass, getting on a plane and somewhere between take-off and the pinging and flashing of the “seat-belts” realising you’re travelling in a hunk of metal in the sky…

In THE SKY!!!!

This is round about the time when the soles of feet get real sweaty and l start plotting my exit strategy. Yes chickens, I plot exit strategies in THE SKY, anything from the more practical, “Errr, Vim there’s no exit strategy, you’re in THE SKY remember” to the, “So Edward from Twilight will come flying in and save me before the plane plunges to its doom.”

Given my various anxieties about airborne travel, nothing makes me more anxious than getting allocated the middle seat…nothing. Experience has taught me that nothing good can come out of being squished between two people in THE SKY. It’s all rather awkward, starting from the age-old debate of “Where exactly am I meant to place my arms if Tweedledee and Tweedledum are monopolising the arm rests” to the “I really want to sleep and now I can’t, ‘cause I will definitely end up trying to nuzzle down on one of these fools.” Lets not forget how sitting in the middle seat encourages people, on both sides, to engage you in meaningless conversation ranging from how Aunt Lydia’s hip replacement went to how Africa has changed their lives *cue eye-roll*.

My perfect seating set-up in a plane, aside from cruising in my very own Lear Jet with a personal masseuse, involves the middle seat being left vacant and me occupying the window seat…and the seats in-front and behind me, being vacant. This has never happened to me, but I live in hope. I have a feeling there will be a higher probability of this occuring once I upgrade from Cattle Class.

Aisle seats only make sense over long-haul flights, all that leg-room is quite necessary, however, for regional flights in sub-Saharan Africa you’d do well to stay well away from the aisle, ‘cause some of those air hostesses’ hips don’t lie. The few times I’ve been seated in that location, my shoulder and head have been taken out by some larger-than-life booties :-)

For your reading pleasure, i have compiled a brief list of my all-time greatest Flying Pet Peeves:

B.O. - Come on man, some daily bodily contact with water and soap isn’t so hard.

Miss Congeniality - So pretty and so damn nice, those air hostesses and stewards get on my last nerve. Yes, I’m hating. I wish I could look so poised 33,000ft in THE SKY.

Crap in-flight entertainment - Nothing to this day can top the screening of a Steven Seagal movie on an Air Zim flight to the East. It was priceless. It felt like I was catching a blockbuster in1993, when in fact it was 2005 *smh*

Almost Doesn’t Count: Never having got the opportunity to sit next to a bonafide hottie irks me to high heaven. I have a theory that I’ve been wanting to put to the test, it involves the theory that being seated up close and personal to eye-candy will alleviate my flying anxieties, hehehe.

Holla your flying peeves in the comments!

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Lent is nearly over and I’m quite relieved about it. I’ve been accused, by many, of being out of the loop with reality and pop-culture due to my spiritual-hiatus away from Bookface and Twitter. I don’t know why they think I would be more clued-up on things like Michael Douglas starring in Wall Street 2 or recent terrorist attacks in Russia? That's not the kind of information you get on social networking sites. FB and Twitter would more than likely inform me of birthdays, break-ups or the bravado of die-hard [Insert English Premier League team name] fans …*sigh*, I’ve missed it all :-)

Random list of things making me smile:

Realising I still know ALL the words to MC Lyte’s rap in, “Keep on, keep, keeping on” and Coolio’s “Gangsta Paradise”

Zebra’s. Don’t ask. I just think they’re gorgeous.

Barack getting his Healthcare Bill passed. The resistant he met with, you’d think the man was making it mandatory for all Americans to consume liquid mercury!

People trying to make sense of Lady Gaga’s “Telephone” video. Quit while you're still ahead.

It being 71 Days till The FIFA World Cup, it’s going to be schweeeeeeeeeeeet.

Julius Malema heading to Zimbabwe to support Zim in its quest for economic independence *DEAD*. This man is a walking comedy, to say the least.

Mad Men: Why didn’t anyone tell me about this show sooner. That Don Draper, mmmmmh, he does things to me.

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Enjoy your four day working week chickens.

Reach out and spread the Love,

V x

Monday, March 08, 2010

The End is Nigh

In the second week of the third month of the second decade of the (errrrrr) not-so-new millennium, it is with a heavy heart that I must share what is fast becoming obvious.

The world is doomed.

Doomed!

How did my clever self figure this out? No, I did not decipher The Book of Revelations or Nostradamus’s vague scribblings. No siree. The signs where more subtle than that and yet, they were all around us.

I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong again.

Earthquakes didn’t factor into my deductions. True, it was impossible not to notice Haiti, Chile, Taiwan, Sumatra and Turkey succumbing to Mother Earth’s severe indigestion (and that fool meteorologist at CNN wants us to believe that none of those ‘quakes are related, *side eye*) and yet, that wasn’t it either.

Ladies and Gents, believe it or not, the omen of the world’s impending end came from none other than the South African edition of Elle magazine, the March 2010 edition.



Yes, they’re back! I’m so very sorry chickens, sooooooooooooooo sorry!

Crikey Moses! Who let these things come back? Shoulder pads…really, COME ON!!!!! The ‘80’s was one fashion faux pas after another, but shoulder-pads are its crowning monstrosity!

When I think of shoulder-pads the following come to mind (all at once too):

- Janet Jackson performing those geometric perfect moves in her Rhythm Nation video;
- Joan Collin’s character in Dynasty decking it out with her blonde nemesis for the charms of some old rich dude - the higher and sharper the shoulder-pads, the more alpha and dominant is the respective female;
- 80's Top of the Pops playing Tiffany’s. “I think we’re alone now”;
- Thriller ( I swear MJ was sporting shoulder pads under that signature red jacket of his); and
- Vultures - their bony, high raised wings definitely give a shoulder-pad effect.

It’s bad enough they bring back those damned harem pants back, but now this!!!! Do these people have no shame *smh*

New lows have been reached, hence my assumption that it’s a wrap!

Holla in the comments, what you believe has been mankind’s biggest fashion faux pas to date (don’t hold back now)

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Speaking of the world ending:

Wow, the economy may well be in recovery mode but the people are definitely not in a light hearted mood. In the past weeks I’ve found myself immersed in all things apocalyptic ‘cause it seems to be de rigeur to expect the worst:

Cormac McCarthy’s “The Road” – If you can get past the fact that this book has NO punctuation whatsoever, is an extremely short read and the reader never really gets the full story of why the earth has come to the state that it’s in, you’ll be impressed by it simplicity and its poignancy. It’s a book about core human values and survival of the fittest. As bloody morbid and gory as it is, I couldn’t put it down. Have any of you watched the movie?

The Book of Eli – The uber-cool Denzel Washington dominates this movie based on, once again, the world after civilisation has literally taken a hit. He’s on a quest to the West and trust me, nothing’s getting in the way. Just like in “The Road” the common themes of scavengers, cannibalism and morality ring clear.

Mmmmmh, the world needs a SERIOUS hug at this rate :-S

Keeping it Light:

I managed to dilute the abysmal feeling of doom caused by the above movie and book choices with the following:

Karyn Stockett’s “The Help”: Based on black maids personal experiences at the hands of their "madams" in then segregated Mississippi during the ‘60’s. it’s the whistleblower of all whistleblowers. The stories are hilarious, sad and heartfelt.

Golf: I’m a natural. Of course I am, never doubted it for a second. How could I not excel at a sport that encourages me to hit an obstacle as hard as I can, and rewards me for it.

Mr Darcy: I finally have my very own copy of BBC’s version of “Pride and Prejudice.” Don’t speak to me of that appalling version with that Keira Knightley person, we shall not speak of it. Instead, I get to drool over Mr D. and root for the underdog *sigh*

George Wilson: He plays American Football (which I don’t understand) and I didn’t know about him this time last week. But thanks to generosity of a fellow blogger *cough* K, this yummy specimen has been plucked out of obscurity. Go over to her blog, if you're wondering what i'm talking about.

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Be kind to yourselves, chickens!

Love,

V x