I have been smodel-fied today! The light above my little corner in zi office went out like a few weeks ago and as is the case with most things in Africa i.e. that we operate on African time, the light guys came to fix it today (8 weeks after it retired)…
What they failed to mention when they gave me the wonderful gift of light is that I will be subjected to massive amounts of dazzling illumination that sees me sitting at my desk with sunglasses on! So pulling a Paris!!!
What’s even more hilarious is that everyone who walks past me gives me this weird look and for a moment I can see they are actually contemplating asking me if I realise that I am working, indoors, with dark sunglasses on! The training manager even gave me a sympathetic smile. Great, so now she thinks my imaginary boyfriend beats me up, just tastic!
The incandescent flood lights make me feel like I am on set for something exciting; all I am waiting for is someone sitting in a blue chair to yell:
“PLACES PEOPLE!”
Friday, January 26, 2007
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Inherent Bitches!
I have come to the conclusion that all girls are bitches – I’m talking from the darling oh-so-annoying age of 6 up to the years of ancientness! I used to think that tarts were equipped with this character trait as a form of survival in this big big world but recently my viewpoint has shifted. Some girls are just plain fucking bitches and no matter what goes right in their lives or how successful or happy they should be, they feel the need to tear your fucking life apart because fuck it they have nothing better to do!
Now normally I would be one of these girls – having had to survive 12 years in an all girls’ school (something which I still believe my parentals should be punished for) and coming out as an awesome tart takes bitch skills which can only be equated to climbing Killie! I do however draw the line on being a two-faced fucking bitch when it comes to my closest friends – of course as is the case with life, not everyone shares my opinion!
Even worse than having to deal with someone so evil that not only does she deserve to be slapped five times from Sunday but she makes Meryl Streep look like an angel in The Devil Wears Prada, is her fucking accomplice. This fucking mindless buffoon is just that – doesn’t think to question any of the information she is “privy” to hearing, nope she just laps it up like the little lappie the lap dog that she is! This is the worst kind of bitch as you can’t even argue with someone that is just so clueless (I’m almost certain that I have just described Paris Hilton, without of course stating: “that’s so hot” IDIOT!)
P.S. This posting is dedicated to Pecan:
Go fuck yourselves up the kazzu with a wha wha brush!
Now normally I would be one of these girls – having had to survive 12 years in an all girls’ school (something which I still believe my parentals should be punished for) and coming out as an awesome tart takes bitch skills which can only be equated to climbing Killie! I do however draw the line on being a two-faced fucking bitch when it comes to my closest friends – of course as is the case with life, not everyone shares my opinion!
Even worse than having to deal with someone so evil that not only does she deserve to be slapped five times from Sunday but she makes Meryl Streep look like an angel in The Devil Wears Prada, is her fucking accomplice. This fucking mindless buffoon is just that – doesn’t think to question any of the information she is “privy” to hearing, nope she just laps it up like the little lappie the lap dog that she is! This is the worst kind of bitch as you can’t even argue with someone that is just so clueless (I’m almost certain that I have just described Paris Hilton, without of course stating: “that’s so hot” IDIOT!)
P.S. This posting is dedicated to Pecan:
Go fuck yourselves up the kazzu with a wha wha brush!
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
I got the Hippie Hippie shakes…
Ah the sixties… Now I don’t have a fucking clue as to what they entailed besides The Beatles, polka dots, possibly the beginning of the Tie Die era and god forbid men not only with long hair but in insanely bright suction tight bell-bottom pants! Cringe!
A recent email though has flung me into having to find out what the fuck tarts wore back then… I have discovered much to my utter thrill and excitement, that the sixties saw the introduction of an item that every tart around the world should be grateful for. An item that should have at least one shelf dedicated to it and be available to its tarty owner in a variety of colours and fabrics! Yip, this fashion can’t-do-without is the mini-skirt! Such an ingenious invention – it has secured me many a free night out!
Now my investigatory dive back into the decade of afro’s and spots is not without its purpose… Our Company is having a big celebration do next month to give us all a congratulatory pat on the back for pulling off some huge fucking rabbits outta hats last year. Relevance? Well this shenanigan has been themed (I loathe themed parties by the by): its Austin powers era babybee aka the sixties!
When I first found this out I was devastated, gone was the elegant image I had in my head looking all glam and shit-hot whilst sipping on champers. Instead I was now facing paisley prints, platforms and just generally unappealing clothing… But that was all before Super H and I came to the conclusion that we could get all dressed up, using the mini as our founder for inspiration, looking like our favourite things in the whole wide world: hoors!
Short mini-dresses complete with fake eyelashes and heavy eye make-up? What more could a tart ask for?!
A recent email though has flung me into having to find out what the fuck tarts wore back then… I have discovered much to my utter thrill and excitement, that the sixties saw the introduction of an item that every tart around the world should be grateful for. An item that should have at least one shelf dedicated to it and be available to its tarty owner in a variety of colours and fabrics! Yip, this fashion can’t-do-without is the mini-skirt! Such an ingenious invention – it has secured me many a free night out!
Now my investigatory dive back into the decade of afro’s and spots is not without its purpose… Our Company is having a big celebration do next month to give us all a congratulatory pat on the back for pulling off some huge fucking rabbits outta hats last year. Relevance? Well this shenanigan has been themed (I loathe themed parties by the by): its Austin powers era babybee aka the sixties!
When I first found this out I was devastated, gone was the elegant image I had in my head looking all glam and shit-hot whilst sipping on champers. Instead I was now facing paisley prints, platforms and just generally unappealing clothing… But that was all before Super H and I came to the conclusion that we could get all dressed up, using the mini as our founder for inspiration, looking like our favourite things in the whole wide world: hoors!
Short mini-dresses complete with fake eyelashes and heavy eye make-up? What more could a tart ask for?!
Monday, January 22, 2007
The Pimp Daddy of Cape Town!
In all my life I have never had to read something as disgusting as Crazy B’s email informing me about how Cricket Boy has been behaving! The man is nothing more than a bastard. Actually bastard is too good for this fuck-witt, he is like the pond scum that feeds off the waste that seeps from the portable loo’s located in the townships!
The way this Mac-Daddy carries on you would think the fucker is P-Diddy. Of course according to him, and only him, his bling bling is down low… This asshole has the fucking nerve to not only hook up with one chick after the other, whilst dating Crazy B, therefore by definition making him a cheating cunt, but hooks up with another chick at the same club Crazy B is waiting for him AND THEN ASKS HER TO JOIN HIM IN HIS FREE HOTEL ROOM THE NEXT DAY ONCE THIS HOOR HAS LEFT!!! The fucking cheek – I swear if I lived in Cape Town this boy would have approximately 5 minutes to live.
I just don’t get men – why can’t you just be honest? Call something what it is from the get go… Either you turn into stalker material because it was the best shag of your life and hence you get these weird fucked up ideas of actually calling it a relationship where the words ‘us’ and ‘we’ are thrown around like ‘I’ and ‘me”! Or worse, you dick fantastic tarts around more than you wanked off in your entire hormone-filled pimply arse teenage years! Make up your fucking minds and while you at: grow some fucking balls!
So here’s hoping that Cape Town’s very own blinging Pimp contracts something, I’m thinking maybe something along the lines of an STD – which seems more than far to me. After all it would serve the fucking idiot right and remind him that sometimes sticking your wandering cock into every nook and crannie that presents itself is not always the best idea!
The way this Mac-Daddy carries on you would think the fucker is P-Diddy. Of course according to him, and only him, his bling bling is down low… This asshole has the fucking nerve to not only hook up with one chick after the other, whilst dating Crazy B, therefore by definition making him a cheating cunt, but hooks up with another chick at the same club Crazy B is waiting for him AND THEN ASKS HER TO JOIN HIM IN HIS FREE HOTEL ROOM THE NEXT DAY ONCE THIS HOOR HAS LEFT!!! The fucking cheek – I swear if I lived in Cape Town this boy would have approximately 5 minutes to live.
I just don’t get men – why can’t you just be honest? Call something what it is from the get go… Either you turn into stalker material because it was the best shag of your life and hence you get these weird fucked up ideas of actually calling it a relationship where the words ‘us’ and ‘we’ are thrown around like ‘I’ and ‘me”! Or worse, you dick fantastic tarts around more than you wanked off in your entire hormone-filled pimply arse teenage years! Make up your fucking minds and while you at: grow some fucking balls!
So here’s hoping that Cape Town’s very own blinging Pimp contracts something, I’m thinking maybe something along the lines of an STD – which seems more than far to me. After all it would serve the fucking idiot right and remind him that sometimes sticking your wandering cock into every nook and crannie that presents itself is not always the best idea!
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Relationships…
In typing the heading for this posting I was all inspired to get into this heated topic and share my thoughts, you know really hash it out… That excitement has, however, disappeared and to be perfectly honest, I just couldn’t fucking be arsed! But for blogging sake and because the thought of actually having to work is making me sick, here goes…
Relationships: there’re complicated, a right royal pain in the fucking ass and just generally require loads of energy and time…
Recently everyone has been giving me their 2 cents worth as to why I am still single (never mind the fact that this current state of affairs has only been so for 2 weeks). Oh the shock, the horror, the terror I strike into happy smug married people’s lives *gasp* This is when I wish I had balls cause if I did I would tell these fuckers to derelick mine!
The one piece of advice (if you actually dare to call it this) is that I should be going for older, more mature men. Now excuse fucking me but I have a grandfather and secondly: eeuw! Of course this tart eventually learnt that what they meant was someone from the age of 28 up. This is apparently where I have been going wrong for all these wasted years of my youth – who knew?! But in my past few experiences I have found that men, unlike wine, don’t get better with age!
But, as my parental unit known as Mom always says: Lightening could strike! Although at the moment it would seem that it prefers to strike garage motors and thus leave me stranded than actually strike down a hunk of a specimen right in front me!
Relationships: there’re complicated, a right royal pain in the fucking ass and just generally require loads of energy and time…
Recently everyone has been giving me their 2 cents worth as to why I am still single (never mind the fact that this current state of affairs has only been so for 2 weeks). Oh the shock, the horror, the terror I strike into happy smug married people’s lives *gasp* This is when I wish I had balls cause if I did I would tell these fuckers to derelick mine!
The one piece of advice (if you actually dare to call it this) is that I should be going for older, more mature men. Now excuse fucking me but I have a grandfather and secondly: eeuw! Of course this tart eventually learnt that what they meant was someone from the age of 28 up. This is apparently where I have been going wrong for all these wasted years of my youth – who knew?! But in my past few experiences I have found that men, unlike wine, don’t get better with age!
But, as my parental unit known as Mom always says: Lightening could strike! Although at the moment it would seem that it prefers to strike garage motors and thus leave me stranded than actually strike down a hunk of a specimen right in front me!
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Non-Smoker
So I have officially been demoted… Or is promoted? Mmmm, guess it depends which way you look at it ruh-hee-hee-here-ly but basically today is the day of new beginnings. The day my lungs will no longer have to fight to savour the intake of fresh oxygen. No longer will they be clogged with tar and nicotine, forced to deal with the blackness within – ok so this is starting to sound a bit like something written on the set of Days of Our Lives *dum dum dum*
No seriously though, I have quite smoking. Probably for the 50th time in the space of a year but this time I swear I am committed, I SWEAR! I wanted to get that point where I hated, ok that is a slight exaggeration, having a smokey Joe – my goal was to achieve this unthinkable event by the end of January…
Of course, the non-smoking universe had other plans for me...
This D day, as it came to be known in my mind, managed to somehow creep up on me like a crouching Tiger waiting to maul his prey to death (ok I have no fucking idea as to why I am using all these morbid images – maybe I am still in the grieving period over the loss of my ciggies…).
My first day as a non-smoker hasn’t been that bad. I mean I don’t know why people kick up such a fuss really, no withdrawal symptoms experienced at all, barring having the following experiences / wishes:
1. Throw cup of steaming hot coffee at irritating work colleague, smile whilst watch them scream in terror;
2. Tell Tame B to fuck right off and to derelick my balls (if I had balls);
3. Take out unidentified annoyance on keyboard, the space bar is especially appealing;
4. Swear countlessly at computer – very fucking stupid machine, I hate Bill Gates…
So all in all it has been a relatively normal day – withdrawal symptoms my ass!
Friday, January 12, 2007
Road Tripping with my favourite Ally
So this weekend sees the Crombster and I off to the Vaal, not for the weekend – so last season, but for the night. We both figured fuck it why not and are calling it a fucking day at 4pm to go throw name in probably the most hilarious place to do so. Seriously you should try it sometime – makes for incredible memories, that is, of course if you can remember…
Last time Crombie and I took a road trip like this, we were paralletically hammered driving back from fuck knows where in the middle of the night (or was it the morning – I seem to remember light but that could possibly have been other cars… mmmm, the mystery continues…) totally fucking lost, did I mention we were wasted? Anyways we eventually discovered that Crombie’s car comes with auto-pilot. The amazing thing about this auto-pilot thingie is that it is Top Secret 00 type of stuff – no one is ever suppose to know that a Fiat comes with such an amazing driving device, all for the reasonable price of an economy car. Talk about value! Of course, Crombie and I felt it was our duty to spread the word – but once we started getting really strange looks from everyone we began to realize that perhaps telling people we had both passed out at the same time (while Crombie was in fact driving and NOT the Fiat) was probably not such a good idea… Who would have thunk it…!
I digress (as usual)… So this time we have decided to keep it tidy and under control cause neither of us feels like being fanny raped by some big bitch called Martha!
Last time Crombie and I took a road trip like this, we were paralletically hammered driving back from fuck knows where in the middle of the night (or was it the morning – I seem to remember light but that could possibly have been other cars… mmmm, the mystery continues…) totally fucking lost, did I mention we were wasted? Anyways we eventually discovered that Crombie’s car comes with auto-pilot. The amazing thing about this auto-pilot thingie is that it is Top Secret 00 type of stuff – no one is ever suppose to know that a Fiat comes with such an amazing driving device, all for the reasonable price of an economy car. Talk about value! Of course, Crombie and I felt it was our duty to spread the word – but once we started getting really strange looks from everyone we began to realize that perhaps telling people we had both passed out at the same time (while Crombie was in fact driving and NOT the Fiat) was probably not such a good idea… Who would have thunk it…!
I digress (as usual)… So this time we have decided to keep it tidy and under control cause neither of us feels like being fanny raped by some big bitch called Martha!
Wedding Season
What the fuck is going on in the world… It’s like everyone woke up this year and decided to get hitched and tie the knot! People are losing their single minds left, right and bloody centre. Case in point is that I now officially have three weddings to go to in the space of six months – one of which I happen to be the maid of honour aka chief bridesmaid and it scares the living Be Jesus outta me. I can’t ever imagine getting to the point where you decide that this person next to you is the one you wanna wake up to every day, shag for all eternity (what a wrenching thought) and watch them get all wrinkly and old – PASS!
The fucking frightening thing is that I find myself getting to an age now where my involved friends (most of whom are on the verge of taking the proverbial plunge) out-weigh my single ones. I mean, how the fuck did this come about? What happened to the notion of being 18 till we die? Free and unattached for life? I guess I must have simply missed the wedding memo…
Thank fuck for Crombie, who is not only my single Jozi partner in all debaucherious crime, but who has sworn that she will get married at least 7 times. Each wedding will be themed with one of them being the Rocky Horror Show! Now there’s a wedding to look forward to!
The fucking frightening thing is that I find myself getting to an age now where my involved friends (most of whom are on the verge of taking the proverbial plunge) out-weigh my single ones. I mean, how the fuck did this come about? What happened to the notion of being 18 till we die? Free and unattached for life? I guess I must have simply missed the wedding memo…
Thank fuck for Crombie, who is not only my single Jozi partner in all debaucherious crime, but who has sworn that she will get married at least 7 times. Each wedding will be themed with one of them being the Rocky Horror Show! Now there’s a wedding to look forward to!
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
I want, I want, I want!
Ok all credit to Apple for being the coolest kid on the block. I think I might have the female version of penius envy after seeing this little baby!
All I can say is: GIMME, GIMME, GIMME!!!
Elementary, my dear Watson…
For most people the notion of being told to fuck right off is a very simple, possibly brutal, concept to grasp. But nonetheless it does not command major thought or insurmountable levels of understanding… Right? Well not in Cockhead’s case. The man is just simply plain fucking ignoramusly stoopid!
Crazy B hooked up Cockhead a while ago when she came to visit me in Jozi in November. Instantly we took one look at each other (that’s Cockhead and I) and the dislike was evident. Mainly because I could see that he was a complete fucking wanker and total waste of human space. A true oxygen thief. Nonetheless he seemed to make my best mate happy and so I kept quiet. That was, of course, until he turned all psycho on her and started to give her a play-by-play of what their married life would be like! Um, huh, what, sorry but can we fucking pause and rewind!!! The dude just lost the plot…
Through all of this he still came down to Cape Town and went to the same New Years bash that we did. Crazy B got a bit toasted and so he was of course the first to jump at the offer to take her to the car where she could sleep off the booze. As the über tart that I am there was just no fucking way on God’s green earth that this was going to happen. Of course this little plan totally screwed up his idea of a romantic evening with my past out mate! He got a bit abusive with me, I contemplated kicking him in the not-worth-mentioning-nuts (note to the boys: tarts talk) but then realized that I loved my shoes too much. So I did what any Italian would do and kicked up such a commotion that the parking guards would have thought I was being raped!…
But I digress slightly…
Basically, Crazy B told Cockhead to fuck off, lose her number and never to bother contacting her again. Simple enough instructions. Think a fucking illiterate starving child who spoke alien could have understood that. But oh no, not this buffoon… Low and behold if he doesn’t send Crazy B an email wishing her happy birthday for tomorrow! I mean Jesus H Christ man save what little fucking manhood you have and move the fuck on! Has he never heard that song Walk on By…?
Fuck off isn’t code for please oh please contact me, send me flowers and whilst you’re at it ask me to marry you! It is the one phrase that whether you come from Venus or Mars has no room for misinterpretation! It means what it says, period.
This guy has got to be the thickest fucking example of the male species that I have ever had the misfortune of having to meet. What a toss, what a wanker and most of all: what a fucking idiot!
Crazy B hooked up Cockhead a while ago when she came to visit me in Jozi in November. Instantly we took one look at each other (that’s Cockhead and I) and the dislike was evident. Mainly because I could see that he was a complete fucking wanker and total waste of human space. A true oxygen thief. Nonetheless he seemed to make my best mate happy and so I kept quiet. That was, of course, until he turned all psycho on her and started to give her a play-by-play of what their married life would be like! Um, huh, what, sorry but can we fucking pause and rewind!!! The dude just lost the plot…
Through all of this he still came down to Cape Town and went to the same New Years bash that we did. Crazy B got a bit toasted and so he was of course the first to jump at the offer to take her to the car where she could sleep off the booze. As the über tart that I am there was just no fucking way on God’s green earth that this was going to happen. Of course this little plan totally screwed up his idea of a romantic evening with my past out mate! He got a bit abusive with me, I contemplated kicking him in the not-worth-mentioning-nuts (note to the boys: tarts talk) but then realized that I loved my shoes too much. So I did what any Italian would do and kicked up such a commotion that the parking guards would have thought I was being raped!…
But I digress slightly…
Basically, Crazy B told Cockhead to fuck off, lose her number and never to bother contacting her again. Simple enough instructions. Think a fucking illiterate starving child who spoke alien could have understood that. But oh no, not this buffoon… Low and behold if he doesn’t send Crazy B an email wishing her happy birthday for tomorrow! I mean Jesus H Christ man save what little fucking manhood you have and move the fuck on! Has he never heard that song Walk on By…?
Fuck off isn’t code for please oh please contact me, send me flowers and whilst you’re at it ask me to marry you! It is the one phrase that whether you come from Venus or Mars has no room for misinterpretation! It means what it says, period.
This guy has got to be the thickest fucking example of the male species that I have ever had the misfortune of having to meet. What a toss, what a wanker and most of all: what a fucking idiot!
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
All Grow’d Up
It is official, Super H and I are all grow’d up and technically have to act like responsible adults from today forward *gulp* Ok well at least where tax is involved. Until this very moment tax was a word I had heard often, normally accompanied by the occasional “stronzo” by the parental unit known as dad, but I had never quite grasped the concept of what it really entailed. Tax to me was like what the Universe was to Arthur Dent…
Even when I was welcomed, read shoved, into the working world in 2005 I just shrugged of the tax thing as something my rentals had to deal with. I mean, me deal with this tax thing – surely they must be mistaken… Me? Tax? Ba hum bug! Of course this living in ignorance thing had to end eventually, as all great fairytales do *sigh*
So today Super H and I took the bold leap into grow’d up hood together – we filled out our tax registration forms and with some luck we should be registered tax payers within the next few weeks. Who knew that filling out such simple looking forms would turn into such a fucking mission and test the mathematical skills of Super H and I to their limit – fucking around aside, this was a job for The Calculator and of course a few consultations later with our Pay Roll Lady and we were on our way… Shwabang!
Apparently, this tax man person gives you money back – INCREDIBLE! YAY 4 SARS! I think I’ll go buy those Jimmy Choo's now…
Even when I was welcomed, read shoved, into the working world in 2005 I just shrugged of the tax thing as something my rentals had to deal with. I mean, me deal with this tax thing – surely they must be mistaken… Me? Tax? Ba hum bug! Of course this living in ignorance thing had to end eventually, as all great fairytales do *sigh*
So today Super H and I took the bold leap into grow’d up hood together – we filled out our tax registration forms and with some luck we should be registered tax payers within the next few weeks. Who knew that filling out such simple looking forms would turn into such a fucking mission and test the mathematical skills of Super H and I to their limit – fucking around aside, this was a job for The Calculator and of course a few consultations later with our Pay Roll Lady and we were on our way… Shwabang!
Apparently, this tax man person gives you money back – INCREDIBLE! YAY 4 SARS! I think I’ll go buy those Jimmy Choo's now…
Rat Bag
So Audi Boy turned out to be a bit of loop, one more loop and he would have been a complete fucking fruit loop, complete with crazy ass bird on the front of his box. Men like him should carry warning stickers on them so super tarts like me know when to just fucking walk on by and not waste any more time than we already have…
Now when I first met Audi Boy, I thought he was great – breath of fresh air and all that jazz. Well the only breath he proved to be was one of utter dishonesty and pure bullshit. Like Coward the cowardly dog! In the beginning I got the whole “I will never be dishonest with you” speech, which I listened to with a somewhat doubtful ear, as well as how he thought I was just so über fantastic (duh) but the little voice in my head (the one that just knows when a guy is spinning me a line was by now screaming its pretty little head of and running around the room aka my head bumping into to countless inanimate objects – drove me crazy) told me otherwise and for once I did the unthinkable, I shoved that little voice into a purple (don’t ask) straight jacket and told it to shut the fuck up! Man am I sorry…
After all the scheit happened with Audi Boy I took a moment over my crisp glass of champers to ponder the relationship that I had just lost (although I clearly wasn’t too involved as my antics in Cape Town go to prove…) and came to the enlightened conclusion that the man simply has no follow through… ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NONE! It amazes me that his golf handy-cap wasn’t too shoddy. If I had been an alert, sharp tart on the look-out I would have picked this small inability up about a month ago when he just couldn’t follow through after foreplay…
FOUR!!!
Now when I first met Audi Boy, I thought he was great – breath of fresh air and all that jazz. Well the only breath he proved to be was one of utter dishonesty and pure bullshit. Like Coward the cowardly dog! In the beginning I got the whole “I will never be dishonest with you” speech, which I listened to with a somewhat doubtful ear, as well as how he thought I was just so über fantastic (duh) but the little voice in my head (the one that just knows when a guy is spinning me a line was by now screaming its pretty little head of and running around the room aka my head bumping into to countless inanimate objects – drove me crazy) told me otherwise and for once I did the unthinkable, I shoved that little voice into a purple (don’t ask) straight jacket and told it to shut the fuck up! Man am I sorry…
After all the scheit happened with Audi Boy I took a moment over my crisp glass of champers to ponder the relationship that I had just lost (although I clearly wasn’t too involved as my antics in Cape Town go to prove…) and came to the enlightened conclusion that the man simply has no follow through… ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NONE! It amazes me that his golf handy-cap wasn’t too shoddy. If I had been an alert, sharp tart on the look-out I would have picked this small inability up about a month ago when he just couldn’t follow through after foreplay…
FOUR!!!
Monday, January 08, 2007
Leaving on a Jet Plane
So LJ left last night for Chicago – gone for 13 months to go and live abroad with a few obnoxious Americans! Was weird all that planning and anticipation was all gone, over and done with in the space of half an hour – weird yet exciting and utterly fucking terrifying at the same time.
I must say that I was thoroughly nervous for her as this little adventure is rather daunting when you think you are going to be getting off a plane 18 hours later in a fucking country where all that looks familiar is your fucking luggage! That takes big cahonies…
Big up to ya sista – show them how we do it here in SA!
I must say that I was thoroughly nervous for her as this little adventure is rather daunting when you think you are going to be getting off a plane 18 hours later in a fucking country where all that looks familiar is your fucking luggage! That takes big cahonies…
Big up to ya sista – show them how we do it here in SA!
KACHING - 2007!
Hello blogging world! I’M BACK!!! Happy fucking New Year to y’all… And what a fantastic New Year it has been so far for this tart…
It was kicked off with the most brilliant holiday to Cape Town. Super H and I took a long awaited and much anticipated road trip down to the mother city – bright eyed and bushy tailed we were as we set off to embrace the holiday / festive season with all the booze and debauchery it had to offer…
The best part about being down at the Coast, besides that instant feeling of finally fucking being on oilday, is that my mojo literally goes into overdrive. Kinda like having a sixth gear or turbo boosters… Fucking awesome! Managed to rack up some fantastic numbers down there and put an end to the rather dry spell that had begun to set in – which I tell you was depressing this tart to no end. Was on the verge of ending it all with a blunt butter knife and small violin playing in the background when low and behold – KACHING – my mojo magic kicked in as fast as nitrogen gas freezes shit…
New Years especially was just so fantastic – if someone would have told me that I was about to embark on the cheapest night of life (I am talking monetary wise here people, dirty dirty minds!) I would have scoffed loudly and walked on by! This tart literally spent a sum total of 50 bucks the whole night and managed to get absolutely shit-faced, in graceful Jozi style of course… Men are real tossers but the 5 free bottles of expensive champers I managed to score (amongst other things) kinda allowed me to ignore this fact and be grateful that sometimes flashing a bit of leg is all a tart needs to do to get ahead in this world (mmmm, k now I think I am starting to be corrupted with this dirty-mind-syndrome – totally not my fault as my mojo has yet to calm down and return to normal levels, what a fan fucking tastic thing it is!)
For this wonderful and über mind-blowingly booze filled (with countless bottles of champers and cray) I must thank Crazy B, my partner in debaucherious and mischievous crime till our dying days – love you babe! You totally rock my world and Cricket Boy is damn lucky to have you on his arm or um *cough cough*… We’re so hot rite now!!!!
I must also thank Ozzie Boy (and the other 3 dudes I managed to um “spend” the night with *wicked satisfied grin*) for not only leaving a very small but telling sign on my neck – kinda left his mark per say - but for making damn fucking sure that the outside world knew just what a shag-a-licious holiday I had, in case they managed to miss the enormously phat grin on my face!The man is just too gorgeous too describe and no words will do him justice – enjoy SA, thanking you kindly *naughty laugh*
So… I am left facing the beginnings of a new year with a wonderfully stacked track record, awesome memories and looking to the rest of 2007 with much um vigor, yes vigor and of course shit loads of anticipation! But right now I think I am going to just sit here and bask in the rays of mojo-ness!
It was kicked off with the most brilliant holiday to Cape Town. Super H and I took a long awaited and much anticipated road trip down to the mother city – bright eyed and bushy tailed we were as we set off to embrace the holiday / festive season with all the booze and debauchery it had to offer…
The best part about being down at the Coast, besides that instant feeling of finally fucking being on oilday, is that my mojo literally goes into overdrive. Kinda like having a sixth gear or turbo boosters… Fucking awesome! Managed to rack up some fantastic numbers down there and put an end to the rather dry spell that had begun to set in – which I tell you was depressing this tart to no end. Was on the verge of ending it all with a blunt butter knife and small violin playing in the background when low and behold – KACHING – my mojo magic kicked in as fast as nitrogen gas freezes shit…
New Years especially was just so fantastic – if someone would have told me that I was about to embark on the cheapest night of life (I am talking monetary wise here people, dirty dirty minds!) I would have scoffed loudly and walked on by! This tart literally spent a sum total of 50 bucks the whole night and managed to get absolutely shit-faced, in graceful Jozi style of course… Men are real tossers but the 5 free bottles of expensive champers I managed to score (amongst other things) kinda allowed me to ignore this fact and be grateful that sometimes flashing a bit of leg is all a tart needs to do to get ahead in this world (mmmm, k now I think I am starting to be corrupted with this dirty-mind-syndrome – totally not my fault as my mojo has yet to calm down and return to normal levels, what a fan fucking tastic thing it is!)
For this wonderful and über mind-blowingly booze filled (with countless bottles of champers and cray) I must thank Crazy B, my partner in debaucherious and mischievous crime till our dying days – love you babe! You totally rock my world and Cricket Boy is damn lucky to have you on his arm or um *cough cough*… We’re so hot rite now!!!!
I must also thank Ozzie Boy (and the other 3 dudes I managed to um “spend” the night with *wicked satisfied grin*) for not only leaving a very small but telling sign on my neck – kinda left his mark per say - but for making damn fucking sure that the outside world knew just what a shag-a-licious holiday I had, in case they managed to miss the enormously phat grin on my face!The man is just too gorgeous too describe and no words will do him justice – enjoy SA, thanking you kindly *naughty laugh*
So… I am left facing the beginnings of a new year with a wonderfully stacked track record, awesome memories and looking to the rest of 2007 with much um vigor, yes vigor and of course shit loads of anticipation! But right now I think I am going to just sit here and bask in the rays of mojo-ness!
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