So today is this tart's official last day of 2006 in the bacon making factory! And I couldn't be happier... Have never wanted or wished time to windle away so quickly! What a year it has been: monumental hook-ups, massive and huge debaucherious piss-ups, a few fuck-ups (naturally not this tart's fault) and then of course the usual hum drum of everyday live in this concrete jungle I call home...
I am especially looking forward to the boozy, jam jar filled lunch that Super H, Crombie plus moi will be having... Gotta love Primi! But in the meantime, while I sit here and watch the clock tick tocking away, I have but one song in my head that truly encapsulates the beauty of the last day of work...
Closing time - time for you to go out, go out into the world.
Closing time - turn the lights up over every boy and every girl.
Closing time - one last call for alcohol, so finish your whiskey or beer.
Closing time - you don't have to go home but you can't stay here.
I know who I want to take me home.
I know who I want to take me home.
I know who I want to take me home.
Take me home...
Closing time - time for you to go back to the places you will be from.
Closing time - this room won't be open 'til your brothers or you sisters come.
So gather up your jackets, and move it to the exits - I hope you have found a friend.
Closing time - every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.
Yeah, I know who I want to take me home.
I know who I want to take me home.
I know who I want to take me home.
Take me home...
Closing time - time for you to go back to the places you will be from...
I know who I want to take me home.
I know who I want to take me home.
I know who I want to take me home.
Take me home...
Closing time - every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end...
Friday, December 22, 2006
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Dr Zeus I pressume?
So I officially join the ranks of being one year closer to 25... Hard to believe that in 8 days time I will officially be another year older. Time she flies too quickly. To celebrate this memorable and probably very drunken occasion, I am going to commission some poor unsuspecting victim to make me a cake just like this one... As Super H so brilliantly observed: it looks like something from Dr Zeus! 
I want, I want, I want!!!
All that AND a bag of chips!
Last night I was liberated! Liberated in a way that every tart should be. A way that would have made Gloria sing for days on end! I had my R-E-S-P-E-C-T moment as I like to call it…
I have officially been de-Achilles Heeled! And it is a feeling that is almost as fantastic as having a week long shag fest. I can’t stop smiling, beaming actually. Everyone would think that I seriously got it all last night – ridiculous!
I was out for dinner at the most deevine restaurant last night, Cnr Café – do yourselves a wee favour and go and munch away there, fantabulous – when my Achilles Heel mozzy-ed in with his new chickie. Now most tarts would cringe at this. You always wish for these moments – you know when you’re looking as shit hot as one tart possibly can but often the rather depressing reality of it all is that you are standing in your bloody video shop, looking like a hung-over thoroughly used up tart still desperately trying to recover from the night before’s antics, wearing what else but your comfie trackie pants and that T-shirt that on a normal day, you wouldn’t be caught dead in.
This, however, is not how I looked last night. Oh no, not this tart! I was milking the whole corporate “I rule the world” vibe, with a dash of funk – naturally, when my Achilles Heel walked towards me (who I haven’t seen in 6 months, although a few months ago had the rather unpleasant encounter with his um mmmm rat look alike flavour of the month who felt the need to splurge all – nuff said), his jaw dropped. Yes that’s right, I know I look damn good so go on, lap it up Bubu!
More significantly though is the fact that this is the first time I looked at him and not had to catch my breath, stop my heart from skipping a beat or feeling that surge of nervous energy build in my stomach. Instead, there was nothing. I was like the arid landscape of the Klein Karoo and my feelings equaled those of the peaceful landscape of the Artic – cool as a mother fucking cucumber one might say! I couldn’t believe it – I, boozy tart, was officially over him and all the scheit that came with it!
Ecstatic, elated and just genuinely school giddyish don’t even begin to explain the pure joy that just forced me to celebrate with another whisky! He, on the other hand, was completely affected by me – according to Pecan, who was there to witness and document this monumental occasion in my life, he not only didn’t touch, hold or even talk to his new chick but couldn’t keep his eyes off me! The best part of course, is although his new gal seems rather normal – for once – she has an ass that would put JLo to shame! As Blazer said: They are always fat! Brilliant, love it…
Of course Pecan’s pig noises whilst we watch her wolf down a burger n fries with gusto only made me smile even more. I think I lived every tarts fantasy last night – the new chick is not only way bigger than me but she NEVER will even come close to having a smidgen of i-ota of an atom on me! Praise be to Je-bus… If I was religious I think I would probably go and get all fucking happy clappy and sing Halleluiah a few times – just for shits and giggles!
I guess love really is blind… In my case though, I seem to not only have been blind but deaf and dumb too!
I have officially been de-Achilles Heeled! And it is a feeling that is almost as fantastic as having a week long shag fest. I can’t stop smiling, beaming actually. Everyone would think that I seriously got it all last night – ridiculous!
I was out for dinner at the most deevine restaurant last night, Cnr Café – do yourselves a wee favour and go and munch away there, fantabulous – when my Achilles Heel mozzy-ed in with his new chickie. Now most tarts would cringe at this. You always wish for these moments – you know when you’re looking as shit hot as one tart possibly can but often the rather depressing reality of it all is that you are standing in your bloody video shop, looking like a hung-over thoroughly used up tart still desperately trying to recover from the night before’s antics, wearing what else but your comfie trackie pants and that T-shirt that on a normal day, you wouldn’t be caught dead in.
This, however, is not how I looked last night. Oh no, not this tart! I was milking the whole corporate “I rule the world” vibe, with a dash of funk – naturally, when my Achilles Heel walked towards me (who I haven’t seen in 6 months, although a few months ago had the rather unpleasant encounter with his um mmmm rat look alike flavour of the month who felt the need to splurge all – nuff said), his jaw dropped. Yes that’s right, I know I look damn good so go on, lap it up Bubu!
More significantly though is the fact that this is the first time I looked at him and not had to catch my breath, stop my heart from skipping a beat or feeling that surge of nervous energy build in my stomach. Instead, there was nothing. I was like the arid landscape of the Klein Karoo and my feelings equaled those of the peaceful landscape of the Artic – cool as a mother fucking cucumber one might say! I couldn’t believe it – I, boozy tart, was officially over him and all the scheit that came with it!
Ecstatic, elated and just genuinely school giddyish don’t even begin to explain the pure joy that just forced me to celebrate with another whisky! He, on the other hand, was completely affected by me – according to Pecan, who was there to witness and document this monumental occasion in my life, he not only didn’t touch, hold or even talk to his new chick but couldn’t keep his eyes off me! The best part of course, is although his new gal seems rather normal – for once – she has an ass that would put JLo to shame! As Blazer said: They are always fat! Brilliant, love it…
Of course Pecan’s pig noises whilst we watch her wolf down a burger n fries with gusto only made me smile even more. I think I lived every tarts fantasy last night – the new chick is not only way bigger than me but she NEVER will even come close to having a smidgen of i-ota of an atom on me! Praise be to Je-bus… If I was religious I think I would probably go and get all fucking happy clappy and sing Halleluiah a few times – just for shits and giggles!
I guess love really is blind… In my case though, I seem to not only have been blind but deaf and dumb too!
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Where’d we go?
Super H and I are lost! And I say lost because neither of us have a fucking ei-o-ta of a smidgen of a clue what (and more importantly where) the fuck we did last night! Our minds are completely numb and void of anything that could be identified as a memory – erased by the new version of suitcases we become well-acquainted with (note to self: DO NOT SUBSTITUTE JACK WITH DOUBLE JAMESONS – totally depraved).
This fine evening out on the piss and possibly the town was all due to Our Company’s year-end shenanigan which began at the Bryanston Country Club! Super H and I have decided that we need to join a club so we can lunch there… Although at the rate we functioned last night, food would be a totally minimalist object in our lives!
So the evening progressed, as all office shwabangs do, with a scheit load of booze and what we have identified as sexual tension between Tame B and Cutie-Next-Door (could cut it with a blunt butter knife I tell you!) who is also a complete pathological flirt! Such a hoor! Eventually we think we managed to convince everyone to head to Qba – which of course they did cause everybody wanted to come out with us, we’re so hot right now!
The haziness sets in after we had been at Qba for a while. I know that we took Tame B home and man does the girl chunder up quite a force and on numerous occasions I might add… But that’s where the amnesia sets in – nada, zip, zero, zilch is remembered after that. We think that food was involved somewhere along the line but can’t be too sure – neither of us had cash on us so either we charmed our way into a Fontana burger or we never went to a Fontana and just dreamed the food up, mmmm…
Then came our next idea of what must have happened to us – we definitely, like totally, must have gone back to Qba… Right? WRONG! Much to our horror and utter dismay, the painful truth is that we didn’t (we checked this news with numerous sources and they all confirmed what we had feared – we had been MIA!)…
So Super H and I are now left to ponder just one thing: Where’d we go?
This fine evening out on the piss and possibly the town was all due to Our Company’s year-end shenanigan which began at the Bryanston Country Club! Super H and I have decided that we need to join a club so we can lunch there… Although at the rate we functioned last night, food would be a totally minimalist object in our lives!
So the evening progressed, as all office shwabangs do, with a scheit load of booze and what we have identified as sexual tension between Tame B and Cutie-Next-Door (could cut it with a blunt butter knife I tell you!) who is also a complete pathological flirt! Such a hoor! Eventually we think we managed to convince everyone to head to Qba – which of course they did cause everybody wanted to come out with us, we’re so hot right now!
The haziness sets in after we had been at Qba for a while. I know that we took Tame B home and man does the girl chunder up quite a force and on numerous occasions I might add… But that’s where the amnesia sets in – nada, zip, zero, zilch is remembered after that. We think that food was involved somewhere along the line but can’t be too sure – neither of us had cash on us so either we charmed our way into a Fontana burger or we never went to a Fontana and just dreamed the food up, mmmm…
Then came our next idea of what must have happened to us – we definitely, like totally, must have gone back to Qba… Right? WRONG! Much to our horror and utter dismay, the painful truth is that we didn’t (we checked this news with numerous sources and they all confirmed what we had feared – we had been MIA!)…
So Super H and I are now left to ponder just one thing: Where’d we go?
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
A long walk to 4:30pm!
I really hate Tuesdays – almost as much as I hate peas, Brussel sprouts and fucking Mondays…
Tuesdays have this ability to just drag and drag and then just when you think they can’t do it any longer, they drag some more. Tuesday’s dragging power truly does amaze me!
The best part about Tuesdays is that it doesn’t matter how busy you are – they still take for fucking ever to get to 4:30pm! I mean Jee-sus! I never really got the hang of Tuesdays or saw the point to them – they kinda like that middle layer of trifle that makes everyone gag… Not quite far enough into the week to be on the right side of Friday yet to close to the weekend gone by so you are reminded of how many more crappy ass days you have to face at your desk before the booze cruise called The Weekend starts again…
Tuesdays… What a bullshit day!
Tuesdays have this ability to just drag and drag and then just when you think they can’t do it any longer, they drag some more. Tuesday’s dragging power truly does amaze me!
The best part about Tuesdays is that it doesn’t matter how busy you are – they still take for fucking ever to get to 4:30pm! I mean Jee-sus! I never really got the hang of Tuesdays or saw the point to them – they kinda like that middle layer of trifle that makes everyone gag… Not quite far enough into the week to be on the right side of Friday yet to close to the weekend gone by so you are reminded of how many more crappy ass days you have to face at your desk before the booze cruise called The Weekend starts again…
Tuesdays… What a bullshit day!
Chasing Casper
Ok so could somebody phuleez tell me where the fuck all the real men have gone?! I mean its like I woke up and *BAM* they had all packed their bags and left – immigrated perhaps to like Australia to go and impress and swoon all the Sheilas over there!
What in zi fuck ever happened to a guy actually being a guy and doing all the ground work? When did tarts and men swap roles?! WHEN?! I mean sure yes fine I can see all the men going well you girls wanted your liberal feminist freedom and so now you can’t bloody well have everything. WRONG! Of course we can, we are tarts and deserve to be treated as well blessings and gifts really… To think otherwise just goes to prove my theory that men just don’t know how to be men or at least play the dating game like they used to…
I must have seriously missed this non-real-men are persona non grata memo and I think I might even be in a mild state of shock over this realization (something which came to me on my way to the bacon making factory aka work)… And if I am right, why the fuck haven’t fellow tarts called a state of emergency yet?
My recent dealings with Audi-boy only go to further prove my state of utter disbelief… Now I am a tart who hates, absolutely loathes people that say they will do something and then don’t – rather just shut the fuck up and keep merrily on your way soldier! I warn countless people of this trait of mine but they never take me seriously and so now Audi-boy is no longer a feature in my life. You disobey, you get cut – it’s just that fucking simple… Butter bing, butter boom!
But I digress. The point is that he just wasn’t the guy guy that all us tarts enjoy swooning over – don’t get me wrong the man had a body that I would eat food off but when did being a slight meterosexual become a description for being a fucking women. Have some cahonies, take the initiative and do what your ancestors have been doing for years! Tarts still want their men to do all the chasing and pursuing etc (and don’t gimme that scheit about that stoopid fucking book of he’s just not that into you – men of today don’t know what the bloody phrase into you means!)
From the very fucking scary posie that this tart now sits in – and believe me it ain’t no high horse posie either – I have completely lost faith in the men of today! Bunch of fake Louis Vuittons!!!
What in zi fuck ever happened to a guy actually being a guy and doing all the ground work? When did tarts and men swap roles?! WHEN?! I mean sure yes fine I can see all the men going well you girls wanted your liberal feminist freedom and so now you can’t bloody well have everything. WRONG! Of course we can, we are tarts and deserve to be treated as well blessings and gifts really… To think otherwise just goes to prove my theory that men just don’t know how to be men or at least play the dating game like they used to…
I must have seriously missed this non-real-men are persona non grata memo and I think I might even be in a mild state of shock over this realization (something which came to me on my way to the bacon making factory aka work)… And if I am right, why the fuck haven’t fellow tarts called a state of emergency yet?
My recent dealings with Audi-boy only go to further prove my state of utter disbelief… Now I am a tart who hates, absolutely loathes people that say they will do something and then don’t – rather just shut the fuck up and keep merrily on your way soldier! I warn countless people of this trait of mine but they never take me seriously and so now Audi-boy is no longer a feature in my life. You disobey, you get cut – it’s just that fucking simple… Butter bing, butter boom!
But I digress. The point is that he just wasn’t the guy guy that all us tarts enjoy swooning over – don’t get me wrong the man had a body that I would eat food off but when did being a slight meterosexual become a description for being a fucking women. Have some cahonies, take the initiative and do what your ancestors have been doing for years! Tarts still want their men to do all the chasing and pursuing etc (and don’t gimme that scheit about that stoopid fucking book of he’s just not that into you – men of today don’t know what the bloody phrase into you means!)
From the very fucking scary posie that this tart now sits in – and believe me it ain’t no high horse posie either – I have completely lost faith in the men of today! Bunch of fake Louis Vuittons!!!
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Split Pea in Boiling Water!
Ever felt like you were under so much pressure that you might burst an ear-drum? Well this week has been just that – AND ITS ONLY FUCKING TUESDAY! TUESDAY for fucks sake! I still have 3 more fucking glorious days of this bullcrap to look forward to…
Three more days to here Newbie whine about how busy he is (WE FUCKING GET IT!) and discuss, in great length I might add, his über evident lack of ability to just fucking say no! I mean the man is more like a mouse than a man really…
Three more days of me having to listen to Butthead ask fucking idiotic questions that quite fucking frankly she should know that answers to at her level in the organization! Tit!
Three more days of having to spend countless hours getting all the information I need to do my job as well I do… Three more days of running around like the new guest we have in our courtyard (think I shall don him Roger – yes, Roger the fat ass rat!) looking for people cause there is just no way in fuck that they could possibly answer their emails or even brief you properly the first time… Oh no, that would be way to easy – I mean after all we have to work for our bloody bacon!
Three more fucking days…!!!
Three more days to here Newbie whine about how busy he is (WE FUCKING GET IT!) and discuss, in great length I might add, his über evident lack of ability to just fucking say no! I mean the man is more like a mouse than a man really…
Three more days of me having to listen to Butthead ask fucking idiotic questions that quite fucking frankly she should know that answers to at her level in the organization! Tit!
Three more days of having to spend countless hours getting all the information I need to do my job as well I do… Three more days of running around like the new guest we have in our courtyard (think I shall don him Roger – yes, Roger the fat ass rat!) looking for people cause there is just no way in fuck that they could possibly answer their emails or even brief you properly the first time… Oh no, that would be way to easy – I mean after all we have to work for our bloody bacon!
Three more fucking days…!!!
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Crombie's New Years Tee
So the Crombster and I have decided that this year, for New Years at least, we are going to get shit fucking faced... Oh no wait, we do that every year! What I meant is that this year, we shall be doing it in style with the post pimped-out themed T-shirts in Jozi *chuffed grin* All fucking thanks to Cyanide and his friend Happiness - luff you boys longtime fi' dollar!!!
Office Eye Candy
This tart is so uber fucking happy! The drought of no eye candy and fucking shit views has finally come to an end! If I was religious I would be praying on my hands and knees thanking the dear Jebus above for finally answering all our womenly prays! Praise fucking be!
I have, until now, been working in a god damn office / company where there has been fuck all - and I do mean completely fuck all - good looking men! Nothing, zip, nada, hottie persona non grata! This has been a rather fucking desperate and depressing state of affairs! I mean can you imagine not having one semi-decent bloke to scope?! The torture! Super H and I were convinced that HR was doing this on purpose (granted that most of the people in our HR department look like she-men but still one could still hope that they would want some good looking ass to hire cause fuck knows that they aren't gonna get it any other god damn way!)
This drought has been ended by Boy-Next-Door and Biker-Boy - thank you boys for joining Our Company, you have no idea how I look forward to coming to work now! I mean, granted these two boys are each at least like sevens which I know in normal everyday life is a semi-decent score but definitely nothing to start dropping those panties for! However, what you fail to realise is that I have been working in an office with men that should all consider themselves damn fucking lucky to be fives, correction make that like 4.5s!
Before these two gifts from above started, I had one of my Directors inform me that he thought I was boy-mad... Me? This tart? Never! Of course that was before I explained the advantage that these boys would bring to the Company *clearing of throat*... basically the use of office eye candy would eliviate any probable bad fucking moods as all I would have to do is wonder past their desks, have a gander and I would be right as rain - my bad mood and desire to kill? A total thing of the past! Plus if I was going to be required to work more than the normal 8.5 hours every god damn day, I might as well have something fucking delightful and totally yummy to look at!
I have, until now, been working in a god damn office / company where there has been fuck all - and I do mean completely fuck all - good looking men! Nothing, zip, nada, hottie persona non grata! This has been a rather fucking desperate and depressing state of affairs! I mean can you imagine not having one semi-decent bloke to scope?! The torture! Super H and I were convinced that HR was doing this on purpose (granted that most of the people in our HR department look like she-men but still one could still hope that they would want some good looking ass to hire cause fuck knows that they aren't gonna get it any other god damn way!)
This drought has been ended by Boy-Next-Door and Biker-Boy - thank you boys for joining Our Company, you have no idea how I look forward to coming to work now! I mean, granted these two boys are each at least like sevens which I know in normal everyday life is a semi-decent score but definitely nothing to start dropping those panties for! However, what you fail to realise is that I have been working in an office with men that should all consider themselves damn fucking lucky to be fives, correction make that like 4.5s!
Before these two gifts from above started, I had one of my Directors inform me that he thought I was boy-mad... Me? This tart? Never! Of course that was before I explained the advantage that these boys would bring to the Company *clearing of throat*... basically the use of office eye candy would eliviate any probable bad fucking moods as all I would have to do is wonder past their desks, have a gander and I would be right as rain - my bad mood and desire to kill? A total thing of the past! Plus if I was going to be required to work more than the normal 8.5 hours every god damn day, I might as well have something fucking delightful and totally yummy to look at!
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