I am in season. I am busy. So busy that I have made no excuse for my daily pasta and wine consumption for the past week. Now I have come back to the office after a client meeting and find myself alone and not busy, so here I am saying hi. I realized I might be a great multi-tasker in my job, but not so much in my life in general. I cannot work so much and have a social life and do yoga and write. Or even any of the two. I even put off a date request for … well, let’s just call it simply the dessert part of any date. I basically refused sex handed on a silver platter. Sex in front of the door as Marie would call it. I know, I know…but honestly I just couldn’t be bothered with the effort to shave my legs or change my sheets.
With season I am not only lacking time, but quite frankly also inspiration to entertain you. Since I can’t even be bothered with a simple date, literally the most excitement I had last week was a dream. A dream I had about a male model who came to one of my castings. He looked a bit like Ryan Philippe and was in an appropriate age bracket for me i.e. above 25 and also not completely stupid, so I may have taken my time with him and laughed just a little bit too much at his jokes. So that night I had a dream that I married him. In a white dress, with a religious ceremony (huh?), and while my uncle was sneaking sips of red wine out of a coffee mug during the ceremony. I am not sure if the traditional tendencies in me this dream displayed should concern me or just the fact how excited it made me to marry a cute blonde surfer guy. Any Freudian feedback? I’m off to have the usual in season after work G&T and maybe do my nails, just because…tonight, I can.
November 29, 2012
November 14, 2012
Thank you, CSI.
I have watched more CSI episodes than I care to admit and the guy at DVD Noveau cares to give to me. To my dismay I have learned if a bit involuntarily, that most of the stuff they do on the show is not really real and the police don’t actually work like this. When I first found out I was shocked and quite a bit disappointed; I thought unlike SA’s police force, NYPD was living in the land of Obama and endless possibilities.
Yesterday I was especially hit hard by this reality as I could have used some digital magic and cross-referencing of cell phone signals and such. My lawyer told me that the sheriff was unable to deliver summons to the evil travel agent as the address I had given was locked and vacant. Did I have another one? Mh. No. Luckily the internet is my friend and though CSI is not real, I am a super sneaky spy when I need to be. In fact, thanks to Facebook stalking, aren’t we all these days?
Anyhow, I put my skills to good use only to find out more horror stories about the woman and to learn that I am apparently not the first to send summons and waiting for funds from foreclosed auctions.
I cried a bit on my way through Garden Centre and when I got home decided the moping needed to stop. Instead of pondering upon the crappy year I’ve had so far, I tried to list the things to be grateful for. This went well for the parts of I made some awesome new friends, went on three trips, had a really horrible attempt at a relationship, but I learned - Flip! What did I learn? I don’t think whatever I did learn was worth the effort, but was faced with the task to turn it into something to be grateful for. That’s when karma kicked me in the butt and I found stinky maggots in my trash. Again. Luckily I had already taken my contact lenses out so they were a bit fuzzy, which was a good thing. They had also mainly stayed in the confinement of the trash cupboard and I hadn’t had dinner yet, which was also a very good thing. Have I mentioned that sight of maggots makes me gag? I think their only useful purpose in the world is to eat rotten flesh out of wounds and thus save lives. Then again I saw them do that on Bones and after learning the truth about CSI, I should be more suspicious of what is true on any given show really.
So, no I don’t believe that maggots have a soul and I don’t care about finding a maggot friendly way to kill them. That is that and there is no need to go all P.E.T.A. on me when I say, I enjoyed the little popping sound they make when being squashed by a paper towel. That was about all I could enjoy about the process and thus I found the reason to be grateful for my past relationship: Love is when he cleans her flat of maggots. Another reason to be grateful for is learning that I can do it myself and unsupervised wine consumption helps while doing it.
The rest of my evening was blissfully uneventful and I amused myself with having a funny dream about said ex-boyfriend. So what can I say? This being grateful business really does work…
Yesterday I was especially hit hard by this reality as I could have used some digital magic and cross-referencing of cell phone signals and such. My lawyer told me that the sheriff was unable to deliver summons to the evil travel agent as the address I had given was locked and vacant. Did I have another one? Mh. No. Luckily the internet is my friend and though CSI is not real, I am a super sneaky spy when I need to be. In fact, thanks to Facebook stalking, aren’t we all these days?
Anyhow, I put my skills to good use only to find out more horror stories about the woman and to learn that I am apparently not the first to send summons and waiting for funds from foreclosed auctions.
I cried a bit on my way through Garden Centre and when I got home decided the moping needed to stop. Instead of pondering upon the crappy year I’ve had so far, I tried to list the things to be grateful for. This went well for the parts of I made some awesome new friends, went on three trips, had a really horrible attempt at a relationship, but I learned - Flip! What did I learn? I don’t think whatever I did learn was worth the effort, but was faced with the task to turn it into something to be grateful for. That’s when karma kicked me in the butt and I found stinky maggots in my trash. Again. Luckily I had already taken my contact lenses out so they were a bit fuzzy, which was a good thing. They had also mainly stayed in the confinement of the trash cupboard and I hadn’t had dinner yet, which was also a very good thing. Have I mentioned that sight of maggots makes me gag? I think their only useful purpose in the world is to eat rotten flesh out of wounds and thus save lives. Then again I saw them do that on Bones and after learning the truth about CSI, I should be more suspicious of what is true on any given show really.
So, no I don’t believe that maggots have a soul and I don’t care about finding a maggot friendly way to kill them. That is that and there is no need to go all P.E.T.A. on me when I say, I enjoyed the little popping sound they make when being squashed by a paper towel. That was about all I could enjoy about the process and thus I found the reason to be grateful for my past relationship: Love is when he cleans her flat of maggots. Another reason to be grateful for is learning that I can do it myself and unsupervised wine consumption helps while doing it.
The rest of my evening was blissfully uneventful and I amused myself with having a funny dream about said ex-boyfriend. So what can I say? This being grateful business really does work…
November 9, 2012
Very worldy me.
Yesterday I enjoyed the first no wind day on my balcony and I decided to celebrate the eminent arrival of the weekend and the Cape Town World Music Festival by having a little worldly evening myself.
So I ate Italian tomato salad and Mexican tortillas. I drank South African wine and had some German wine gums for desert. I sat outside on my balcony on my Moroccan puff while wearing my Moroccan Djellabah to read my book about an English boy who ends up in Persia. Then I watched some American series and then snuggled into my Egyptian cotton sheets (or so I was told…).
Okay, fine, I will admit that it was never a proper plan, it just worked out like this…but as it stands I’m now properly prepared and the weekend can commence. Have a happy one!
New tomato selection box from Woolies, which got me overly excited for some odd reason. Love the funny shapes and colours.
My new, well, actually vintage Moroccan puff on my finally wind still balcony. Bliss.
My new and perfect summer version of sweatpants. And if you object that it ain’t very sexy, may I add that a) sweatpants are worst and b) I have already scored once while wearing it and c) nobody saw me, but the parking guard. And no, there is no connection between b) and c).
So I ate Italian tomato salad and Mexican tortillas. I drank South African wine and had some German wine gums for desert. I sat outside on my balcony on my Moroccan puff while wearing my Moroccan Djellabah to read my book about an English boy who ends up in Persia. Then I watched some American series and then snuggled into my Egyptian cotton sheets (or so I was told…).
Okay, fine, I will admit that it was never a proper plan, it just worked out like this…but as it stands I’m now properly prepared and the weekend can commence. Have a happy one!
New tomato selection box from Woolies, which got me overly excited for some odd reason. Love the funny shapes and colours.
My new, well, actually vintage Moroccan puff on my finally wind still balcony. Bliss.
My new and perfect summer version of sweatpants. And if you object that it ain’t very sexy, may I add that a) sweatpants are worst and b) I have already scored once while wearing it and c) nobody saw me, but the parking guard. And no, there is no connection between b) and c).
November 6, 2012
Seasonal change.
Sorry, I have been quiet…I blame the two little kittens and our two little interns. They are each exhausting in their own right and I find only the kittens cute. Add into the mix that I am not used to work full days anymore after this long winter and I am just tired all the time. On top of it I have just been missing and daydreaming of New York. Which seems a tad ungrateful considering that the wind has finally stopped howling and I am about to have sushi with bubbly on the beach for sunset. I know, I know…I just wish that maybe for a day or so I could wear my old motorcycle boots with thick socks again, my Alexander McQueen coat which makes me look like Sherlock Holmes with my matching cashmere newsboy cap, and drink what Starbuck’s calls African Redbush Tea. Fancy name for good, old rooibos, right? For some reason I always liked it better on the other side of the globe on a crisp, cool autumn’s day and for some reason that’s where I want to be right now. I’m craving change…
I was about to add a little cartoon of a Sherlock Holmes here, but I couldn’t find one with motorcycle boots or holding a teacup instead of a magnifying class. The only one I liked I found was a vampire version of Sherlock which is undoubtedly awesome and I could relate to it, but it came from a website of someone who seemed a little too disturbed for my liking to link. If you are really want to see it, google Vampire Sherlock Holmes Cartoon.
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