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!
Friday, January 12, 2007
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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