Monday, August 01, 2011

Day Something: White Flag, Dido Style

So in case you were wondering, I absolutely SUCK at daily blogging! For someone who has a lot to say at any given moment (except when viewing Project Runway and Games of Throne) who woulda thunk I would be running short on the written word.

I have already outted myself to Shonavixen (my blogger challenger) and she has given me a stern talking to you, lol.


On my mind:

Slow Dancing

Once upon a time, in my past I used to be a pretty good amateur
ballroom dancer (much to the ridicule of family and friends).
In general, I am a HUGE fan of dancing but there was something about
partnering up with someone and executing dance moves intuitively
that's got me fixated on returning to the dancing circles pronto.

In ballroom dancing the man always leads,
something that took me a while to get used to
(yes, I was THAT girl trying to lead a man around a dancefloor, lol).
This style of dancing, like other forms of partnering dance styles,
teaches you to trust your partner to get you were you need
to go, on the floor, with minimal fuss.

There's something ridiculously intimate and endearing about knowing that when
your dance partner squeezes your hand or lightly nudges
your waist that a new move is coming along.
However, like a lot of things, getting to this level takes
time, patience and a whole lot of practise.

The ingredients for all relationships,
on and off the dance floor ;-)

Now to find a dance partner to indulge my nostalgia!

When's the last time you slow danced with someone?
Share your stories in the comments?


Stay blessed chickens,

V x

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Day 16: Window Periods

Everything in life has a window period...

Life is the proverbial window periods to beat all window periods.
If we take too long deliberating over the pros and cons of a situation
or any opportunity you could find yourself in the distressing
position of realising that your window period has passed.

This applies in relationships too.
This week I've been hearing of instances where
exes having been quite happy on distancing themselves
from a former significant other are all of a sudden
trying to hit comebacks like their name is Arnold Schwarzenegger.

When it comes to relationships that have ended,
I say the best kind of window period you're gonna get
is the two week to a 3 month type window period
(I've heard of isolated cases of more extended periods,
but lets stick with the more common norm).

Calling peeps up when memory lane got re-routed 5 years earlier
is not only something ridiculous, it's just plain sad.

So when you've messed up and missed a window period for whatever the reason,
suck it up,
admit you lost a great potential something,
and vow not to let the next good window period go without acting on it.

That's all folks :-)


PS Pay a visit,
new articles have been posted and
we would love to hear your thoughts and opinions on them.

Later chickens

Day 15: Mentors

Sheryl Sandberg (COO of Facebook) currently tops my
wishlist of mentors.
This woman is ridiculously inspiring with her uber impressive CV,

academic track record and the fact that she's also a
wife and a mum.

Talk about being the woman who has it all.

She has recently created a lot of awareness around the lack of
women in senior management and when this
woman speaks you sit up.

Sheryl joins the ranks of Oprah, Angela Ahrendt and Khanyi Dhlomo
on my imaginary "Vimbai's mentors" list.

Refer here for Sheryl's TED talk:

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Day 13 & 14: Deja Vu

One of my favourite scenes in the first installment of The Matrix is when Neo and Trinity are walking up some stairs in some random building (as they usually do) and Keanu Reeve's character spots a cat repeating a movement and says, "Deja Vu" and Trinity then informs him that someone's messed with the programming...or was it blueprint.

I never get deja-vu, well in the correct sense of the expression which according to Wikipedia is:

"is the experience of feeling sure that one has already witnessed or experienced a current situation, even though the exact circumstances of the previous encounter are uncertain and were perhaps imagined."

Mapping life's patterns and themes comes second nature to me, so I am in a perpetual state of deja vu...I just never get those obvious deja-vu moments people get when going down an escalator or walking into a room. Mine are more like, "haven't I seen this before, played out on Life's stage."

The fuel situation, or rather the lack of fuel situation in Johannesburg this weekend was some serious deja-vu:

- Driving at 40km per/hr so not to waste what little fuel you already have;
- Reconsidering functions hosted a million miles from your place;
- Calculating the most direct routes to places that do not involve climbing mini-mountains or hills and;
- By no means using the air conditioner to warm up your car.

I had been "here" before. It wasn't fun then and it isn't fun now.

Hopefully this particular case of deja-vu vaporises this week sometime, in the meantime, I'll be the one crawling along the highway at 20km per/hr ;-)

Stay blessed chickens,

V x

Saturday, July 16, 2011

Day 12: Enough said

It was an awesome Friday night :-)

That is all.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Blogging Challenge (Day 11): African Dessert?!?!

My favourite emails are the one's titled
"random question".

Those are FAVOURITE type of questions and
my girl "S" didn't disappoint.

Her workplace was throwing an African-themed event
and she had been roped in to present
an African dessert.
(Can you tell she doesn't reside on the African continent)

She sent an email plea to a bunch of us and the responses
are killing me softly.

Here are a few to share:

The early suggestions where tame

Malva pudding

Fruit salad (with mango and passionfruit)


Fried plaintains

Semolina Pudding

Then they got interesting:

Sugar cane/nzimbe (complete with bowl to spit the chewed remenants)

Sweet potato (mbambaira)

Then down right ludicrous:

Sadza/Pap and Lacto (sour milk)

Chicken (yes, you read correctly)>

As I write this post, these ladies are now downloading
long ass dissertations on how African children under
the age of 13 years, back in the day, considered any meat
"dessert" as it was normally reserved for adults. One
friend piped up and reminded us that the average African residing
in the rural areas can barely get a proper meal let alone
dessert and that dessert is for the privileged.

Now the debate has steered off in the direction of , "Dessert is not an
African concept and is something that was brought through
by the colonists and in fact, it's really an Arab concept and has been
improvised over the years."

In 10 minutes I have received 30 odd emails on this topic,
so I am going to fling the question to you, dear readers:

What constitutes an authentic African Dessert?

Or is there really no such thing?

Holla in the comments ;-)

Blogging Challenge (Day 10): La La La

sooooooooooo i totally didn't upload yesterday
and I have no valid excuse....i've used them all :-)

Can i promise this won't happen again,
ummm nope.

However, I will promise to take a "Johnny Walker" approach
and just keep walking (in this case blogging)
despite any mishaps.

V x

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Blogging Challenge (Day 9): Just one of those days

Today was one of those days I would describe as being,"
"Fine, partly cloudy with a South-easterly airflow."

It started on a high,
bottomed out in the middle of the day,
life threw a curve ball at day end

and the year ended up in a pocket of sunshine and "The Itis"

Tomorrow is a new day,
Empires must be made.

Later chickens,

V x

Blogging Challenge (Day 8): Novel cuisine et al

This was Monday’s blog, but due to technical difficulties will be posted today :-)

Side note preamble: This post very nearly didn’t go up. Got home from dinner (more of that later), jumped into my fleece jammies and electric blanketed bed and have been fighting off the sleep since. If it wasn’t for the simple fact that I knew I had to do good by the blogging challenge set before me, I would have checked into Club Duvet (featuring DJ Pillow and The Sandman) about 15 minutes ago.

I was out at dinner with a friend earlier and she ordered the oddest dish I’d ever heard of, “prawns and chocolate”. Now both of those ingredients, served separately, are some of my favourite foods....but together, I wasn’t too sure about that.
After a very sceptical bite though, my opinion was swayed. It was positively yummy and decadent.

Reminded me once and for all that opposites do attract, hehehe ;-)

In other news:

1. Google+ has rendered me clueless. I pride myself on my techno-savviness, especially in the realm of social networking media....but this new entry has got me baffled. It’s not as straight-forward a site as I had hoped it would be and quite frankly I’m all socially networked out.

2. The art to overcoming that soul sinking Monday feeling is to “power dress” within an inch of your life. I was awarded “Best Dressed” in the office today after donning the following ensemble: blood red heels, black stockings, charcoal grey pencil skirt, red cardigan, turquoise pashmina, grey button earrings and a full face of make-up. The panel of judges where tough but apparently it was my pashmina that won the day ;-)

The mental and emotional benefits of power dressing cannot be overlooked, dear friends.

3. I love me a unique baby name, but Harper Seven...really? I love both those names, seriously. Said together it sounds like some South African slang to replace the expression, “Hoza/Ola Seven”. The play ground will be rough for this little new Beckham edition, with a name like that....luckily she has 3 older brothers watching out for her so she’s sorted.

4. What’s the going price for a Birkin Bag, last I checked it was somewhere in the region of “oh hell no....seriously?” though to “keep a copy of the store invoice and mount it on your living room to show the neighbours.” Either way, that bag will be the Holy Grail of all my bags.

Let me call it a night chickens!

Stay blessed,

V x

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Blogging Challenge (Day 7): Some wicked advice

Recently I had the absolute pleasure of catching the musical,
on Broadway.

Those close to me know that I'm mad,
absolutely stark raving mad about
all things "The Wizard of Oz" related.

Hence it wasn't entirely surprising that when
the last song was sung
and the final curtain came down
tears may have been shed and
noses blown.
'Twas so damn emotional.

One of the major highlights of the show was hearing

Wicked's signature track,
"Defying Gravity."

I first heard it on Glee and fell in love with it instantly.
(shout-out to Shonavixen, a fellow Gleeker)

When feeling demotivated and lack-lustre about life
or trapped, confused and running on empty.
This is the track that get's bumped triple time
in my car.
(Thanks Shonavixen for the Glee CD hook-up).

The words resonate with me more than ever these days.
I'm calling this period of my life,
"The Great Awakening"
becauses as the opening lines to the song so aptly explain,

"Something has changed within me,
Something is not the same.
I'm through with playing by the rules
Of someone else's game."

With Monday fast approaching,
I urge y'all this week to participate in
Defying Gravity.

Song lyrics can be found below:

Saturday, July 09, 2011

Blogging Challenge (Day 6): Intuition

Before I begin my post properly, may we just take 10 seconds out to comment on the picture above.

Guys, that's one helluva of a long's longer than the itty bitty kayak *cringe*

Everything in me is hoping that this poster is one of those photoshopped items, otherwise...yah, as they would say in Zim slang, "it's late".

Back to the post:


Sixth Sense

Voice of Reason

Call it what you will, I am in the habit of never listening to it (to my own detriment). Instead I have been known to stubbornly forward march when everything in me is yelling that I should have backed up a couple gazillion miles back.

In the past, and by past I mean everything before this very minute in time (he he), I have been a staunch supporter of forced outcomes. Instead of taking heed that the person or action I insist on interacting with or participating in, respectively, would do me no favours, I come up with an alternative outcome that better suits me and supports my own judgement, as opposed to taking heed of that niggling feeling.

The older I get the more faith I place in this in-built alert system of mine (seeing as my lets-force-issues approach has netted me ZERO results) and if I listen carefully at this exact moment, it is telling me the following:

  • Remove X from Blackberry Messenger contacts list;

  • Ship is sinking, ship is sinking, find alternative transportation;

  • You're too big for this box;

  • Wait. Don't reach out. Don't contact. Nothing. Wait.

  • You can help.

  • Bad news...don't even consider it...why are you still considering it...can you stop considering it already. Yes, I'm talking to YOU.

  • You're in the right direction.

  • It's really up to you, the rest of the pieces are there to be linked up.

Most of these messages have been sitting on the backlog list of my "voice of reason" but like they say, better late than never (they also say "better late than pregnant", but i digress).

Care to share what your intuition/sixth sense/niggling feeling/voice of reason is saying to YOU right now?

Holla in the comments ;-)


V x

Friday, July 08, 2011

Blogging Challenge (Day 5): No one digs drama

Once upon a time...many moons the days of my youth...i was dramatic (writes the chick abusing ellipses before she gets to the second line of her post).

I wouldn't describe myself dramatic, more like theatrical...yes, theatrical is EXACTLY what I am. These two things are not the same, don't ask me to explain why they aren't the same, i'm just telling you like it is ;-)

Now, that's just plain exhausting. This week I witnessed some interesting drama of sorts, the type people make up in their head; that in itself probably fully defines what drama really is....made up, unnecessary, has no basis in anything. In short, it's a waste of everyone's time and energy.

I think i now have a more defined definition for you now:

Drama: Draining, unnecessary and just plain sad the older you get.

Theatrical: In regulated doses is HIGHLY entertaining *ahem* otherwise if not regulated can morph into the former definition.

I have met those who major in dramatic significant others as relationship partners, what i like the most about these people (not) is that once they hook up with Ms or Mr Drama they loooooooooooooooooooooooooove to complain about that very same trait that attracted them there in the first place.

Drama has NO place in a relationship.
Drama in casual hookups...heck, sure why not (whatever gets you going).
However, on-going drama in an actual relationship, come on now, that's just sabotage.

Drama also has no place in the workplace.
What are we FIVE???
Having a hissy fit followed by punctuated uncomfortable periods of silence does nothing for your credibility and professionalism.
Drama has no place in world of those over the age of 3 and if so, it better be because "you want to go potty."

We all know we have developments points in our personalities and if you know yours so happens to be DRAMA, accept that is what it is....then address it. 'Cause if i have to witness another too-old-to-be-pulling-these-type-of-stunts individual lose their cool over nothing or get lost in conspiracy theories in their head.

Ah, it's on.

Here's to a drama-free weekend chickens!


V x

Thursday, July 07, 2011

Blogging Challenge (Day 4): Claiming back the day

6:45am: The haze of previously consumed antihistamines make waking up harder than usual, but even through this drug-induced mist I remember.

It’s your birthday today.

8:15am: Find myself going back and forth on whether to acknowledge the day, after all, we haven’t been a “we” for a long time now. Thoughts ricochet across different scenarios and options, I leave for work undecided.

“This really shouldn’t take up so much of my thought process”, I chastise myself, “After all, I can’t let a simple day hold me hostage.”

9:00am – 11:45am: Manage to successfully distract myself and plough through detailed “to-do” list. Who would have thought avoidance could be the cure to my long suffering bout of procrastination (wonders never cease).

Lunch spent with a good friend from work involves lots of laughter and thought provoking discussion over chicken curry and rice.

You don’t cross my mind.

1:00pm – 2:00pm: Participate in some corporate jibber jabber in an office boardroom, secretly wishing for time to speed-up so I can move on to the workshop that follows it.

2:00pm – 5:35pm: Get my mind blown away, in a very good way, during my workshop. Find myself brainstorming and planning with excitement the year ahead. Can’t believe how a day that started so apprehensively could flip on its head like this.

Walk out of workshop eager to apply the teachings and tips that were communicated.

6:00pm – 7:00pm: Still too excited after workshop and find myself bouncing ideas with good friend from work. Walk out of the office with a bounce in my step.

The world feels alive with possibilities.

8:00pm: Send him through birthday email. There’s no beef, our good times far outstrip the bad. Seems silly to have worked myself into a panic in the morning (I blame those antihistamines, loll)

8:04pm: His email response arrives. I smile and respond.

8:06pm: His last email arrives. “Well that was quite simple”, I tell myself and get on with the rest of my night, quite happily.

Moral of the story: Each day is your own and every person has the choice to use it constructively or to be held hostage in it.

I claim back this day and realise that it had always been mine in the first place.

Wednesday, July 06, 2011

Blogging Challenge (Day 3): Unbeweaveable moments

Of late I've been scattier than usual. Naturally I want to blame the effects of the Beyonce Blonde* weave-on i'm sporting these days (so cute), but that would be a cop-out.

Ladies and gents, I am beginning to suspect I may have a case of late adult on-set of ADHD :-) Right about now I could do with one of those "Limitless" type pills to help me focus, channel all my energy into one specific direction instead of it being dispersed across a million and one things.

I've read up on all the Zen type books I can stomach, and they all keep alluding to "remaining present in the moment", "being in the moment" and "embracing the moment". It's pretty obvious that The Moment and I aren't on speaking terms and I need to rectify that asap.

So what's a girl to do nhai?

Well firstly, stay away from sugary substances. My natural self if hyper at best without the assistance of glucose, fructose and who knows! Growing up, my mother caught on rather quick that her children morphed into possessed demons when their paths crossed a Sprite bottle or some Mazoe, these "spirits" were reserved for special occasions. Funnily enough, just the other day my co-workers wanted to ban me from indulging in our daily latte treat...apparently I went into hyper-drive and they got scared, lol.

Next, i need to allocate time for certain thoughts. Thinking about everything all at once has proved useless, writing to-do lists has been somewhat long as i stick to ONE to-do list and not multiple versions (all lying strewn across my apartment as we speak).

I will attempt saving the world one day at a moment at a time....till then, i'm blaming my Beyonce Blonde weave ;-)


Speaking of Beyonce: I love this girl, i really do...but can she just go on a PROPER retirement. One where she isn't selling something, interviewing for someone, performing somewhere etc. The girl is over-exposed, in all senses of the word.

From my observations, when women get married they tend to wear more clothes....Mrs Carter is the exception to this rule. She has an amazing body but i'm kinda OVER seeing it all over the place.

There is something in her latest recordings that smells of "overexposure" and "desperation". In her fight to remain relevant to fans, she's losing us one-by-one with this nonsense of hers. Can she just hand the baton over to Kelly (Rowland), who's killing it on the dance scene, and go forth and make some little Jigga's .

End of rant.

Happy hump-day chickens...hope you're all behaving ;-)


V x

Tuesday, July 05, 2011

Blogging Challenge (Day 2): Just for you

A hug a day,
Keeps the craziness away....

and just
feels real good :-)

V x

Blogging Challenge (Day 1): The Anatomy of Mean

The plus side of having a memory like mine is that you remember the most arbitrary pieces of advice or scenarios when you’re hit with a real-time situation. Today’s little flashback down memory lane was no exception:

The year is....errr, let’s just say it’s long before The Age of Cell-phones and more in realm of time of when Madonna could wear white, claim to be “Like a Virgin” and nobody was side-eyeing her... out rightly anyway.

So to set the scene, there I am Little V, sitting in the school hall with a bunch of other kids and its reading time. This is the day I am introduced to the literary genius of one Roahl Dahl in the form of his book, “The Twits” which is ultimately a story of a husband-wife duo who perform hilariously unkind pranks on each other, just nje. One that particular day, the teacher reading the story paused after having read out the latest in a line of despicably funny but mean exploits performed by the couple on each other to issue her own words of wisdom*, that, “People can grow out of a lot of things, but generally, those with a harsh mean streak never grow out of being mean.”

Suffice to say, that comment on meanness stuck with me, unravelling itself in a multitude of ways over time but standing true all the while to that simple statement.

People, more often than not, do not grow out of "mean".

We could be here all day arguing over what motivates or encourages an individual to nurture a mean streak, but the crux of the matter is that if by a certain age you have not seen how this one personality trait of yours is alienating you from forming sincere relationships that are not based on characteristics, such as: intimidation, scorn, jealousy, pettiness and viciousness, then good luck to you.

I sincerely hope you get your wake-up call sooner rather than later.


Things I was told when I younger that I would grow out of and have resolved that I never will:

1. My current bra size: Before my mother realised I had inherited her side of the family’s lack of boobage, she was so optimistic that I would experience life beyond a b-cup, suffice to say, I am still waiting for paternal genes to kick in.

2. Allergies: Maybe allergy meds have advanced over time so they mask the symptoms better, but who are they kidding, nobody grows out of seasonally allergies, tsk tsk.

3. Cerelac: The only thing stopping me from consuming this yummy cereal, targeted towards newborns, every day of my life is the knowledge that my waistline will expand in a short space of time due to the ridiculous amount of kilojoules per spoonful.

4. Fluffy type chick-lit: I hope to goodness I NEVER grow out of reading this genre because nothing tickles the inner cockles of my heart quite like reading how Arab sheiks or Greek heirs succumb to the charms of some damsel of sorts. Predictability is the name of the game in this genre, with its formulaic story lines...thing is, I find comfort in this obviousness.

5. My flair for the dramatic: I’m a middle child. That is all.

*It’s worth noting that in that same sitting, this same teacher also informed us Third Graders that brushing one’s eyebrows every morning would avoid us a lifetime of embarrassment going forward in life. She was a wise teacher this one ;-)


In other news:

Thanks to Shonavixen (of for challenging me and a host of other bloggers to get to this 30-day blogging challenge. I can’t promise that every post will make sense, but here’s to keeping to it ;-)

Shameless Promotion: If you do have some time, please pass by and read up on the latest host of articles recently uploaded. Don’t forget to get your commenting on ;-)

Have a good one chickens!


V x

Friday, June 03, 2011

The Reason: Diasporan Darlings

Hello chickens,
very long time right!
Now, you may have thought i had given up the writing gig,
but that's not true.

The main reason that i've been AWOL
is that Kooks and I were hatching up our "baby" project.

May i introduce you to
Diasporan Darlings

A site targeted towards highlighting and promoting Africans who are in the diaspora and those residing on Africa.

Pay us a visit and let me know via comments what you think!



Monday, January 24, 2011

A night of "firsts"

Disclaimer: “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” – Cyndi Lauper circa 1980-something. Enough said.

It is an absolute cliché but this past Saturday night I think I may have lost my heart (and a healthy amount of cash) to a limber Adonis of stripper called “S” *sigh*


My girls and I had been planning this outing to one of Jozi’s reputable male stripper establishments for weeks. It turns out that getting a table dance has been inadvertently added to the “adult rites of passage” list (read: we were a small minority of individuals who hadn’t ever been to a strip-club before). Did we know what we were fully getting ourselves into? Absolutely not, but you only live once right?

Once our hysterical giggling had subsided and we had plied ourselves with copious amounts of alcohol we then proceeded to have an awesome, awesome time. Sadly enough pictures were taken to ensure that i will never, ever have a successful political future...should i ever feel that way inclined.

Here are a few things I observed from our raucous night out:

1. Personality: Strippers must be fit, but more importantly they must have some personality and be engaging. There’s nothing worse than a shy stripper or one who hasn’t figured out what his stripper alter-ego is (we had one, shame).

2. Ink, ink, baby: Body art of some sort comes with the turf...and it’s kinda hot...very hot.

3. Too much of a good thing is...: It must be both a blessing and a curse to be a Mandingo. The resident Mandingo was very generously “endowed”, but sadly his equipment did more to scare us ladies, than entice us.

4. Don’t judge a stripper by his colour: On arriving and finding out that all the strippers were Caucasian, I will admit I was a bit disappointed a smidgen. After all, as a resident of The Rainbow Nation I would expect a wider variety of flavours, if you get my drift. By the end of the night, I had become a believer...those fellas knew what they were doing.

5. Don’t touch me on my studio: I thought we wouldn’t be allowed to make any sort of body contact, however the fellas encouraged us to roam our hands over their washboard stomachs, broad shoulders and even a butt cheek, now and again. However, certain *ahem* bits were out of bounds (I thought I should just clarify that). One gorgeous specimen did tell us a hilarious story of how a bouncer had to save him from the yanking habits of an aggressive client, she apparently really liked what she saw O_o

6. Rude Boy: I didn’t realise we would see so much....seriously I didn’t.

7. Hide 'n Seek: According to our mixed-race waiter there is no such thing as a male Indian stripper. Not sure how far true that is?

All in all, it was a real eye-opener of a night. I definitely believe that male strippers have a better deal than their female counterparts. I can’t help but assume a female stripper is in that line of business as some sort of last resort, whilst men definitely seem to have some sort of choice.

I forgot to ask The Boys how they had ended up in this line of business, however, I did find out that one was a part-time graphic designer and that the resident Mandingo had realised his *ahem* talents at the tender age of 10 years old.

I may have to pay a second visit, for purely journalistic purposes to get some more answers to my mounting questions ;-)

Holla in the comments!


In other news:

The second first: On our way back from the club my mate and I got pulled over by the cops. They were on the search for drunken drivers (read: they were trying to make some spare change). Never have I heard a person waffle around the obvious, this female cop spoke in circles...cleverly her intentions where implied rather than forthright, that way she could always deny eliciting a bribe from us.

Back in Zim I have always successfully managed to talk myself not only out of traffic fines but many a bribe. The difference back home is that i usually encounter male cops, who are easier to get around. Sadly, on that early Sunday morning our nemesis was a female member of the South African Police whom left us R100 poorer.


How time flies! Here’s hoping you make the most of the last week of January 2011, chickens!


V x

Friday, January 21, 2011

Who gives a boob, anyway?

Disclaimer: Dear Fellas, i speak about noombies/boobs a lot in this post...but not in a way you'd full appreciate. You have been warned. Seriously.

The funniest things make the news these days. I guess when the average attention-span has been hijacked and overloaded with the more serious type stories (think: natural disasters, testy elections, shooting sprees etc) the media decides to relieve us with some non-newsworthy tidbits such as George Clooney contracting malaria (*crickets*) or resurrecting a long-standing debate.

This week the done-t0-death debate that was given a second-wind wastriggered by one model, Miranda Kerr. Ms Kerr debuted a photo of her and her new sprog, with said-sprog latched at the breast of his yummy mummy, who looked in full bloom (pun-intended).

What was meant to be a seemingly innocent picture of "mother with babe" got misconstrued as some subliminal breastfeeding campaign with Ms Kerr playing the role of the self-righteous protagonist. Baby-formula activists everywhere started foaming at the mouth at this implied snub and what i want to know is...

Who gives a boob, anyway?

The answer, it turns out, is not that many people. Breastfeeding shares ranks with the likes of garter belts, glitter nail varnish, Burt Reynolds and jelly shoes: i.e things deemed "unfashionable" amongst women of the current generation *insert eyeroll*

I understand not being able to breastfeed your nunu 'cause you just can't due to complications or that your little bub is refusing...but opting out of it because it's not your thing or you're worried about ithe impact it will have on your noombies....hah, i have no words.

Fair enough, breastfeeding is one of those activities that has been overly romanticised. The healthiest option for your baby it maybe, nevertheless, a pleasant experience for your noombies it is not. My co-worker recently got back from maternity leave last week and took great pleasure on filling me in on the rather alarming aspects of motherhood AFTER the laborious process of child-birth (yes, it only gets worse).

Phrases like "cracked nipples" and "veiny stretchmarks" had me crossing my legs extra tight and screaming for a gestational surrogate quicker than you could say "Nicole Kidman".

At the end of the day new mum's should just woman-up, breastfeed if they're capable of doing so and open a savings account to fund their future full C-cup noombies courtesy of Dr 90201 if need be...breast augmentations, i see you!

Holla your thoughts in the comments, chickens!

PS: I have a theory that the boy-child is never fully weaned from breastfeeding...err, but that's a story for another day.


Have an awesome weekend, chickens!

To those of you in flood-stricken areas, keep afloat and to those of you in snow-ridden areas, keep warm....and to everyone else count your lucky stars.


V x

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Watch out for those blind-spots

Picture the scene: It’s a typical Monday morning and I’m whizzing down the M1S highway and negotiating traffic at a semi-decent speed. Noticing that I’m about to suffer the sad misfortune of being stuck behind a slow-moving skorokoro (read: dilapidated vehicle that was around during the Jurassic Age) I spot an opening in the lane to my right. With my indicator ticking away and poised to complete my swift exit from The Lane of Slowness, hectic hooting startles me and I realise that ummm, jah...the coast wasn’t as clear as I thought it was.*

Sometimes that darn blind-spot catches one unawares...and that’s no different when it comes to the blind-spot’s of Life.

Now I’m sure I’ve confessed my control-freakish tendencies on this blog at some point in time, but if there was any doubt as to whether I’ve attempted to Play God, erase those doubts right now. I was never an official girl scout, but I had taken up with such nonsense I would be the holder of many badges right about now. Be prepared is one of favourite mottos to live by. Take for example the crazy weather patterns we’re currently experiencing that have a couple big cities south of the hemisphere flooded to the nth degree. It has not escaped my attention that Joburg is currently attempting to join the aforementioned waterlogged cities at the rate it is raining over here, and I swear, I am contemplating where to get a rubber dingy**, some flares and whether to stock up on tinned food or not, lol.

Sadly there come some situations and experiences that catch you completely unawares, no matter how prepared you may be. These situations don’t happen that regularly (thank goodness) but when they do, there’s no first aid kit, horoscope reading or well meaning words of comfort that can detract from the shock of it all or the unexpectedness.

At times like these, I find myself:

a. Craving a healthy helping of Malva pudding;
b. Only wanting to listen to misogynistic hip-hop tracks with killer beats and rhymes;
c. Bartering with The Almighty (yes, yes, I know...I never learn); and
d. Frantically wishing time could stop for a bit.

Eventually, you figure out how to pick yourself up again from a setback and just get on with it, because there’s no point dwelling over that which you cannot fix.

My Top 5 Blind-spot situations are as follows:

1. The death of a loved one;
2. The end of a relationship;
3. Not getting the job you wanted;
4. Owing the Tax-man a whole lot of moolah; and
5. Getting a flat tyre.

Holla at me your blind spots or blind spot moments.

*No “women driver” jokes or any of the like will be tolerated at this point, thank you very much.
**China Mall in Jozi stocks them at “good price”...I checked J


In other news:

Dear Mother Superior: In my experience, when people start classing a certain population group as being more superior than others, you are heading into dangerous territories...the kind that conjure up memories of a certain man, with a certain moustache...and a certain swastika.

So imagine my surprise at reading that a Chinese author has written a book about how superior Chinese mothers to mothers of other nationalities and ethnicities. Her theories are based on the fact that the average Chinese mother has high expectations of her children*, to the point that a 5 year olds daily activity schedule could rival that of a 4th year employee of Goldman Sachs.

Clearly Miss Author here didn’t cast her net far and wide and find out from research, that there are a plethora of non-Chinese, non-Asian mothers around the world who demand the best out of their children and will go to reasonable limits to ensure this. I don’t think Chinese mothers are more superior in any way, I think they’re just a little more....err, militant, about how they go about getting results from said-child.

Flashback to the year 1995 and I return home with a test result of 19/20 on a Maths test. The class average is sitting at around 14/20 and my sweet mother is harassing me about that ONE I didn’t get right *insert eye roll* ....and the thing is, my academic history was littered with experiences such as this.

My parents expected the best out of me (still do), if I could get 95% then it meant I could 100%...If i could get 100%, then I could maintain it. People will argue that that’s a lot of pressure for a kid, I agree...however, I would much prefer that type of scenario to one where nobody is expecting anything from you – that’s how we end up with national Matric/final exam pass-rates in the 60-odd % and applaud such nonsense (*side-eye* to SA’s Ministry of Education).


*I wonder if only being allowed to have ONE child in China has anything to do with all the concentrated fixation.


Chickens, may this 3rd week of the not-so-new year bring you many blessings, and zero blind-spot type scenarios ;-)

Stay motivated and spread the love,

V x

Sunday, January 09, 2011

Where Guacamole trumps Romance...

It’s Day 9 and I’ve either broken or forgotten my new year’s resolutions, instead i’ve decided to relieve myself of the pressure to achieve this quest of self-perfectionism, and as an alternative, dedicate each day to mastering two things. Today’s two things entailed the following:

1. Learn how to make a mean guacamole; and

2. Do not dispense any romantic advice.

My first task came about from my new-found love for Avocados. After a rather painful encounter at the age of 10 years old involving avocados*(see footnote) I had sworn off the things. That is, until a friend of my mine made the most awesome guacamole EVER, since that time there’s been no turning back. Today I decided to snub my nose at the store-bought variety I’ve been subsisting off the last couple of weeks, and make my own batch. Sadly, it did not go so well and I will be back to the store-bought variety in no time.

The second task I hadn’t initially planned on until I was ambushed on Blackberry Messenger by a friend lamenting her man-less state and asking for tips and suggestions. As an individual who has spent more time as a singleton than in a relationship, I found myself spouting the usual clichés like “these things take time” and “get yourself out there”.

After 20-odd years on this earth, I’ve still got nothing when it comes to matters of the heart. Yes, I may be in a relationship but it doesn’t mean I always know what’s going on. There is no secret formula to this....unless there is, and I’ve been in the dark all this time...err, one of you is going to have to clue me up here :-)

Any who, after much faffing I gave her the best advice I could summon without Googling and that was “pray on it and then just get on with life”...and then vowed to steer clear of giving romantic advice in the future as I’m absolutely rubbish at it.

What’s the best romantic/love advice you have given, or have been given?

• My baby sister and I attempted to re-enact a Palmolive advert, we’d caught on TV that involved wearing an avocado mask. Except we left our masks on too long and proceeded to try and rip it off, one avocado strip at a time...instead of just soak it (don’t ask, we were young and foolish).


In other news:

What’s up Doc?
‘Tis The Year of Our Lord 2011, aka The Year of The Rabbit (if you’re brushed up on your Chinese Astrology) and here's hoping it’s going to be a great year...the type that dreams are made of, that quickly become blockbuster flicks and novels :-D

Now this year has its work cut-out for it, especially in South Africa. With 2010 being the “Belle of the Ball” by housing the world’s most anticipated sporting competition (read: FIFA World Cup), 2011 is looking every bit like Camilla Parker-Bowles to an unforgettable Princess Di (read: 2010).

It’s early days yet, only time will surely tell.

Harry’s (Harare): I spent two long weeks at home over the holidays and was extremely excited to see that we (Zimbabwe) are creeping back on the map. Tourists could be spotted (why must they be decked out in their safari best, why?), the local arts and crafts industry was booming (check out Doone Estates and Avondale Flea Market if you’re in the areas) and there were a plethora of drinking and eating spots to pick from.

“Choice” and “joie de vivre” has returned to House of Stone.

Random sidenote: There was anomaly that haunted me during the hols at home, and that was this strange new weave being sported by one in five women. I’m guessing the original inspiration behind the do would be Rihanna (given the short sides and longish, curly middle side), however, it was the variety of bright colours and highlights that had me spell-bound. SMH!


Have an awesome week back in the land of the living, chickens.

Shake off those holiday blues and start making those dreams come true.

V x