Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Hiatii

During the absence, I have been busy writing bad prose, not selling it, writing okay prose, selling that, ignoring the caretaker at my building (and the sounds from my car) and generally trying to be superwoman.

Apparently, being a freelancer does NOT mean sitting around the house all day, laid out languidly on your couch, laughing at sitcoms and longing for an inheritance. #allTheAlliteration

More on that later...

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

EXPRESS KARMA

There is a whole lot to write about this week, it would seem.

I think it is because I have mad deadlines - I have SO MUCH WORK, so I am suffering through the I-want-to-do-everything-BUT-work syndrome.
It's terrible.

And my internet is slow. So even psyching up to do whatever I wanna do... *sigh* AND I'm leaving so I have stopped caring. Stupid internet.

Anyhue, so this short post is about the freaky god of karma.

So I was at the club, right? (say in Valley Girl accent) And then we were walking to the bar to buy, like, tequilas, and then, like, I saw this note on the ground and I was like, zomg, MONEY! So I pick it up and try to hand it to the guy who it was next to - but then my girl SMACKS my hand down with a whisper of death and says 'wtf you think you doing, boo?' And I was all, whaaaat? And she was like, 'keep it moving, booboo. He wouldn't have noticed anyway...' so, I like, totally kept it moving.

So the (drunk) guy noticed that we were trying to give him money, and then he was like, no, that's my money, I'll buy you a drink, and my friend was all, huh? What are you talking about? Then his (drunk) friend was like, whatever, let them have it.

3 shots, one cab ride and a weekend later...

I went to the atm, right? And it gave me money which I didn't bother to check, right? So then the next day on a Monday when I AM checking it...
THE MONEY WAS 2000 BOB LESS AND I HADN'T USED ANY MONEY SINCE THE MACHINE.
WHICH IS EXACTLY THE AMOUNT WE PICKED UP THAT NIGHT.
ZOMG THERE'S A KARMIC GHOST IN MY ATM MACHINE.

ZOMGZOMGZOMGZOMG

tSN

p.s. Also, I SUPPORT GAY RIGHTS.

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

The L Word

So, what's happening is, I am learning how to drive.

I mean, I have a license and everything; I have had one for years. I am not sure why they gave it to me, because I knew and they knew that I couldn't drive, for a number of reasons:
1. I was taught to drive in vernacular, as soon as my instructor found out we came from the same village. My vernacular isn't bad. Just not Driving School Worthy.
2. I couldn't actually start the car during my driving test. The cop started to side eye me. Then he threatened me and the fear of failure made the car start and move - for about 2 metres, which, as you know from how much I can't drive, is a measure of just how NOT a driving test that was.

That aside...there's the slight issue that roundabouts make me a lil' nervous, and stationary objects feel the need to jump onto my path (#Clueless). AND MATATUS. As in?

I am practising, currently, increasing the alacrity of my middle finger - i.e. how fast I can flip someone off, putting my lights on full at idiots (SO many idiots) and, you know, NOT driving onto sidewalks (I seem to have a tendency to shy away from other cars...onto the pavement).
I am also debating whether or not to get an L sign. Because I feel like people treat Ls badly. But they'll be nicer. Right?
Either way, I have my finger.

What was awesome, though, was seeing my mom's car and chasing after her to say hi. She's never seen me drive (without fearing for her life in the seat next to me). #proudMoments (until she said she wants to trade cars. She has a manual. I was taught in vernacular on a manual. We all know how this story ends.)

Also...I didn't use my license for so long, it gathered mold.
I can get a new one, right?

Monday, February 24, 2014

Why are men so...

The scenario:

Getting into a lift with 2 older men, 1 who is trying to not be distracted by youthful cleavage and so is making SUPER unnecessary conversation.

A: You mean you are still alive?
B: What do you mean?
A: You haven't died?
B: You can clearly see that I have not died.
A: Your day has not yet come?
B: Erm...it will come when it comes.
A: Yes, it will. So, when are we coming to bring cows? We will bring them all, just pay for the girl at once!

...
....

*door opens*
*tSN flees*

Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Couples Therapy

OMG guys. Sooooo bored at work.
May fall asleep mid post.

ANYhue...

So Wolverine and I got a spa thingy thing that entailed a massage for an hour.
First of all, I don't like massages. I don't get them. I think they are painful and slightly unnecessary, and if you do not have an injury, then they will cause one. No?

So we get into the spa, and get into the disposable underwear that they give you when they want to let you keep your sensibilities hidden. W couldn't believe that they didn't have disposable boxers. He was like...'you know, chicks are used to this. This feels weird for me. Maybe they gave me the wrong ones? Maybe they gave me the chick ones.'
LOL.

His robe also seemed to belong in the female department. It was, like short, and didn't wrap around his entire body.
I think it was a conspiracy. They saw his muscles and wanted more.

We get onto the bed things with the calming music playing et al and they push down our robes to RIGHT WHERE THE BUTT CRACK HAS ALREADY BEGUN. I'm like...what was the point of the underwear? And are they looking at his butt crack too?

Then the massage begins and it's painful...as I expected...and then all of a sudden...I get this intense desire to fart.

Shit!
I can't fart now, right? I mean, the smell will intermingle with the ginger sijui eucalyptus in the air and then people will definitely notice the new addition.
So like a good girl, I hold it in.

Then, the girl who's giving me the massage? Her tummy growls, and I start inventing a life for her, like, oh, poor thing, giving a massage at lunch time, she must be so hungry...

Then I lose focus and I loose...you know. The Kraken.

It was a tiny one to be fair. Didn't even stink. But I was MORTIFIED. I mean, the room was silent, and she must have noticed.
What was I supposed to do? Apologize? Ignore it? Burst out laughing? Stalk out?

I tried to tell myself that people must do it all the time, right? Coz they get so relaxed, apparently, that everything - literally - just lets go, right? It's probably a sign that they did good, right?

RIGHT?

She kept asking if I was comfortable. I was wondering if it was code for YOU FLATULENT HEIFER!

When we were leaving, she asked me how it was. I said 'OMG SO GREAT! I TOTES FELL ASLEEP!'
In my head, she would construe that as I farted in my sleep, not on purpose.
Right?

tSN

Thursday, February 6, 2014

Film: Wolf of Wall Street


starring Leonardo DiCaprio, Margot Robbie and Jonah Hill

In a truly surprising turn of events, The Wolf of Wall Street was banned last week from cinemas. The hypocrisy is amusing, seeing as Kama Sutra and other ilk have been shown at cinemas before, and we are the nation who allowed the ‘6 movies 1 ticket’ phenomenon to continue for years.

What is the ultimate surprise for me, is that WWS is not actually that filthy. Sure, there’s a lot of sex, but I don’t find it above and beyond a movie that is about the excesses of humanity. In fact, it’s almost comedic; what Quentin Tarantino does with violence, Martin Scorsese does with sex.

Granted, it is not for the religious or the faint hearted, but banning it? I thought it was a bit much. Especially considering that it has already been in the cinemas for at least 2 weeks.

WWS is the tale of Jordan Belfort, who is a young and na├»ve stockbroker seeing to make it in the world until Wall Street takes him in and spits him out. A quick and amusing scene with Matthew McConaughey introduces him to the lifestyle, and he becomes a complete degenerate who somehow, in a drug induced haze, still manages to become a millionaire from stealing poor people’s money (an aspect that they did not show nearly enough - dude stole millions upon millions from po' folk)). Jonah Hill manages to be serious and hilarious at the same time.

I was underwhelmed by the ending, and even more so when I found out that the real like Belfort still has not paid back all the money he stole, regardless of the fact that he made a cool million from selling the film rights. He even had a cameo in the movie. Hm.

Was it a good movie? I thought it was ok. Interesting? Yes. Long? Yes. Oscar-worthy?
You tell me.

...in my opinion, Leo should have gotten an Oscar for Django, if at all.

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Freedom?

'Will you hate me forever if I leave?'

'Yes.'

'Forever, ever, or just till next week?'

'Forever.'

'Ok, you know no one is capable of hating someone forever.'

'Wanna find out?'


I think my boss is taking my resignation personally.