…to be closer together!  I have a Mark Shuttleworth, a Madonna, a love gap, a midline diastema, a midline diastema.  But then I came across this website which made me giggle and converted me.

So, instead this is what I want.  I’m just saying… you know, for those of you that actually know me in real life (Hint:  Mom. Please refer all aunties, uncles & family friends here too):

• Smaller earphones for my nokia - my earlobes are too small!
• GHD Hair Straightner (I would sell my left boob for one of these)
• Car Service (really needed)
• Funky hats (you know I can never get enough of these)
• Shoes, size five.  All colours.  Need pumps, don’t have enough.
• Mtn airtime for my stupid TopUp 3g card that only ever works when it wants to
• Some crackfor the addiction, ya know?
• A hairy man to..erm, spend time with me.
• Veet (that shit is expensive!)
• Stationery (need pens, Gremlins at home ate all of mine)
• An audience with Khan of Parlotones
• The ability to listen to my mom when she tells me not to do something.  She’s always so right.
• GPS

Woo!

So, I had this conversation last night with a mate, who shall not be named due to me being threatened with eviction*, that left me speechless and in fear of my future pregnancies.

You see, when a woman falls pregnant one of the possible symptoms is developing piles, otherwise termed Hemorrhoids.  After much nagging and whining for further elaboration of same such disgusting disease, a glazed look from me in response to her that persons explanation, we resorted to drawing diagrams, as we do in our home** on frequent occasions.

A pen and paper was whipped out and the diagrams began.  First drawn was a puckered anus, as they can be found, followed by a grape looking scribble in between the wrinkles.  Of course by this stage I had already whipped out my camera and snapped this hysterical moment to be captured for life times to come. 

I’m curious to see what its like, not ever having experienced this myself.  It’s all very interesting and entertaining.  In experiencing this first hand, my friend has even named the grape ‘Millicent’.  “Dude, please can I see up your naught?” I ask her this person.  “Not, hey” was the answer. 

Anyway, the moral of the story is that if you ever find yourself suffering from an unwelcome anal visitor named Millicent, you should never have sex.  Because, damn, the dude getting lucky with you will run ten thousand miles, I would imagine.

* Did you get that?  It was a hint.  Eviction = residential rights with her this person. One guess who threatened me to not name her that person.

** That was another hint [Dummy].

Lovelies, this just in:

Did you know that the ever delectable, always wet looking, bemuscled South African Adonis known as Ryk Neethling has a blog?  Well its true.  For free, because I am such a loving and kind girlfriend to him, I will promote his blog for you to all drool over, as long as you promise not to touch my darling.

Click to view perfection over here.  You are very welcome.

Please do not forget to notice his stunning eyes or his toned shoulders and that slick hair, casually brushed through… my hormones certainly clapped hands when we laid our eyes upon him.

*lick*

Hmrf emsf trim fumrf hemph oomfr!

That’s me muffling myself from some big news.  I’ll burst shortly, I just know it.  Stay tuned for details

I’ve been dreaming of presents, guy.  Last night was the GHD.  For those of you that don’t know what a GHD is (and I mean you Cow_grrrl) it stands for Good Hair Day.  I could totally do with one of those, everyday.  The night before last I dreamt someone serviced my car.  Every other night this past week I’ve dreamt of a GPS.

My birthday is coming up.  On the 23rd of August.  I really want a GPS, I’m just sayin…  A GHD would be divine too, and servicing my car but lets not be greedy.

Just a quickie:

Notice:

I have added the blogroll.  Its on the links tab near the header up there ^ somewhere.  If you aren’t there and you know I read you, please give me a shout out so I can link love you too.  I’m not a snob and you know it, so don’t be shy.

Speaking of links, I want you to click this right now.  Its my good old friend Wobbo who gave up his life to help people on the other end of the world.  Its a new blog, but has me enthralled already.  He over analyses everything and makes you think about things that you don’t really want to think about.  But he also has a sense of intelligence and humour that will spank you when you least expect it. 

Go read my friend!

Then.  I want to do a poll.

But I can’t add one here.  So leave a comment and tell me which you would prefer reading:

a) a self hosted wordpress designed blog complete with comment follow ups and rss feeds

b) a simple blog that allows you to just read the article and leave in a hurry

c) this blog, in all its glory. Keep things the way they are!

Just remember that when you are going to go out late two nights in a row, do not have plans to fill up the third night too like I have just done.

I’m tired.  I’m tired.  There are 8 more hours to this day and I am tired.

Anyone offering to inject heroin into my eyeballs or feed me steroids intraveineously to keep me going is more than welcome here.

I nearly got mugged last night.  I had to wait for the security guy to open up the side exit of the mall so I could get to my car and the fucker followed me and tried to climb inside the passenger window.  I was so mad.  I still am.  Somehow I had the sense to only open the window and not the door like he indicated.  Fucking criminals!

Okthxbi.

PS:  My Brother is 21! Holy smokes, when did I wake up this older than the rest of them?  Please remind me.  Happy happy Jarry.

…I just knew that last night was going to be a bad idea.

Jayx contacted me to let me know he was in town.  I bravely volunteered to take him on a tour of our city.  As with Glugs and Angel - I got totally lost and we ended up finding the beach in the most unlikely place, through a detour, right past the taxi rank, under a lot of bridges, past the old 3.30’s nightclub and finally, just after the harbour.

Joe Cools kept us liquored until late.  It is now I would like to state:  Jayx is the King of Jeiger bombs and I will never challenge him again.  My headache hasn’t kicked in yet, but I know damn well it will.  As soon as I sober up.

Oh lawd, have mercy!

PS:  there was a dude totally having his way with himself on the side of the road behind a tree.  Also, the guy in front of me in traffic was shaving his face!  While driving! Ha!  I thought it was hysterical and was almost tempted to introduce myself since I usually find myself doing war paint on the way to work. 

Sigh… Durban is weird.

I’ve never been a John Mayer nut, but his latest single has my heart.  I listen to it on the radio and no matter how many times I may hear it, it never fails to evoke emotion in me. For some reason, I feel happy and sad and happy and sad each time.  The lyrics are so wise, his voice so smooth, his skills are unbelievable.

I give you John Mayer, Say what you need to say:

Take all of your wasted honor.
Every little past frustration.
Take all of your so called problems,
Better put ‘em in quotations.

Say what you need to say

Walkin’ like a one man army,
Fightin’ with the shadows in your head.
Livin’ up the same old moment
Knowin’ you’d be better off instead

If you could only…Say what you need to say

Have no fear for givin’ in.
Have no fear for giving over.
You better know that in the end
It’s better to say too much, than never to say what you need to say again.

Even if your hands are shaking,
And your faith is broken.
Even as the eyes are closin’,
Do it with a heart wide open.

Say what you need to say

Say what you need to, Say what you need to…

Say what you need to say.

I know I say it often, but this man could have my babies and park his shoes under my bed any day.

…found here

I bunked work yesterday.  Fair enough, I woke up feeling like Dead on toast.  But ultimately I needed to sleep in I think. Later on Cinderella and I got together and tore Durban apart.  Her car was broken into in the early hours of the morning, and so it gave us an excuse to go get the window fixed in town.  Holy god – let me tell you that middle of Durban central is like walking into a mixture of Pakistan, Siberia & one long flea market after the next. 

I purchased the following, all at different robots:

• One funky pet.  Also known as a poor boy hat. In black, green and orange gingham print. Yes, as in Vernon Koekemoer fabric. Noice!
• A shexy pair of sunnies, which I then proceeded to sit on.  Obviously I then needed to buy another pair*.
• Curried Pineapple.  It’s a Durban thing.  For someone who doesn’t eat curry or fruit, I’ve become strangely addicted to Curried Pineapples.
• An instruction on where to get my car washed.  Yes, this falls under the purchase list since the delightful little street rat at the intersection would only tell me if I paid him five rand.  I handed it over after I told him where to buy soap and a sponge once he’d pulled it out from his ass. 

* Which proved to be impossible because when I didn’t need sunglasses the Street Vendors were everywhere right up until I decided I did, in fact, need some.  Then they were all mysteriously fucking gone, weren’t they?

Last night saw me parked in front of my new latest toy.  I’ll give you a clue:  it is loud but silent.  It has a dangly bit and two knobby type things at the top end.  It can fit into two holes…

You’re thinking vibrator, right?  Wrong!  I have moved up in the world.  I have joined the elite and fantastically sophisticated human race.  I am now able to play with my new white phone while - get this: listening to music on full volume in my earlobes!  And no one can hear it and bitch at me. I cannot understand why I haven’t thought of this before.  It’s a brilliant invention, really.  I’ve been prancing around moving my shoulders, bobbing my head and shaking my hips to invisible music!

In boasting about my new toy to a mate, the conversation swerved a little bit and every word started with an ‘I’.  iTalk, iFlip, iDude, iSay… But then it got out of hand and we ended up giggling like gay lords with the following:

iLord – for the modern man who can’t wait until Armageddon

iPray – for those who don’t have time to think some up for themselves

iMo – for the Muslim who’s tired of Islamaphobia

iAm – for the Amish Man needing a direct answer on how to please his wives

Okay, enough.  Guess what?  It’s FRiiiiiiiiiiiiDAY!

I will leave with this parting shot:  iWork.

kadooosh!  ( <– drum bash)