And what's up with their stupid beer boep rodent meerkat thing?

Now in a prior post I made a fleeting reference to grey hairs... I reeeeally didn't want to have to elaborate on this, but regrettably i have been left with no choice.

I recently discovered several silvery bits in my head. I discovered them on Friday night... mere minutes after receiving an unpleasant sms from my bank.... coincidence? I think not people!

Dang Vodacom. Dang them to an eternity of being put on hold and listening to BACKSTREET BOYS call waiting music. "I don't care whhhhooooo you are, don't care where you're from, don't care what yoooo did as long as you love me"

Of course the more discerning individual will have picked up that in the chorus of that song (which plays on repeat) Vodacom customer "care" yodles on that they in fact DON'T no less than 3 times! SUBLIMINAL MESSAGING PEOPLE!

Of course, in my case the chorus could be altered to something alone the lines of:
"I don't care that we stuffed up your banking details,
I don't care that we added bogus charges amounting to over 6 grand to your account,
I don't care that you expressly forbade us to debit your bank account with this ludicrous figure,
We'll do whatever we dangwell please anyway, yeah yeah yeah-haaaaaaaaahaaaaaaaaa"

Vodacom - Keeping you in touch! (with your bank manager? with your therapist???)

bah humbug

I hate this time of year. I really do.

Don't give me that incredulous look! I have my reasons....

It all goes back to my childhood when my Father used to make us erect an aluminum pole in the lounge and we'd all sit around listing all the ways that the rest of the family had disappointed us during that year. While all the other kids celebrated Christmas or Hannukah, our family celebrated "Festivus - a festival for the rest of us."

Ok, actually none of that is true. That was George Costanza's childhood, not mine.

My reason for intensely disliking this time of year is far simpler and far more current... It should be noted that last year and every year preceding that one, I loved this time of year.

What has changed, you may ask? To which I may retort: What hasn't?

Last year this time I would be beeeeeeroooooooooooooonze! None of this translucent look which I am currently sporting. I would have aquired the aforementioned hue by spending the past few weeks lazily shmultzing (there really is no other word for it) around the pool. In fact, quite possibly by now I would have been moaning (most self-indulgently in the way that only students can pull off) about how booooooooooo-hooooooooooooooored I am. About how there's nooooothing to doooowoooo. My dad would have been sternly warning me that "these are the best years of your life" and pleading with me not to say I'm bored.

Now I understand.

That's the first true sign of aging. Not the stray grey or the declining need for a social life which last pasts 12, but the point where you truly start appreciating your parents wisdom. Whip out the oil of olay, people, I'm-a gettin old!

So glad I'm not a carnivore....

People, I have nothing to say

Now I know men the world over are ululating in shocked glee that a woman could be out of words. But it is true.

it's that time of the month... er... i mean year, you see.

On the note of these kinds of matters, I have some quotes to share....

"When a woman becomes a scholar there is usually something wrong with her sexual organs." Friedrich Nietzsche (Nazi Shmuck)

"Sensible and responsible women do not want to vote." Grover Cleveland, Former US President (1905) hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

"Nature intended women to be our slaves. They are our property."Napolean Bonaparte (and that's why they shipped him off to an island)

"Women are nothing but machines for producing children." Napolean Bonaparte. (nope... THAT'S why!)

"Wild horses couldn't drag a secret out of most women. However, women seldom have lunch with wild horses." Ivern Boyett

"Show me a woman who doesn't feel guilt and I'll show you a man." Erica Jong.

"She looked as if she'd been poured into her clothes and had forgotten to say when." PG Wodehouse. (Personal favourite - hehe)

And for my FAVOURITE FAVOURITE.... (this balances it somewhat ladies...)

"Men can read maps better than women. Cause only the male mind could conceive of one inch equalling a hundred miles." Rosanne Barr

Tough crowd!!!

In the words of Glyn (one N) Hog (one G) (Congrats glyn... you FINALLY get a mention!!!) "There's no encouragement".

I need some comments here people. Nikki... your attempt at leaving a comment was a dismal failure. Ask Cher to show you.

An Inconveniant Truth

So I have realised something quite perturbing. My Band is going to be one of those dads. Really.

Since my car has not been performing at her optimimal best, Stef has been dropping me at work in the mornings. Which would be fine, except that I work in a posh little office park. Which would be fine, except that as he drives off he insists on HOOTING! (*cringe*).
Which wouldn't be ssoooooooooooooooooooo awful, except that his hooter sounds not unlike a pre-pubescent boys voice; "bebeep baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarp!"

(SO EMBARASSING!!!!) All the corporates stick their well groomed heads out of their tinted office windows to stare me down as I try to scuttle into the building with a smidgen of dignity in tact.

Since I have begged and pleaded and threatened him to stop, he now occassionally doesn't hoot, instead he makes a big show of wheel spinning as he drives off.

MY POOR FUTURE SPAWN! (No, cherilyn, I AM NOT BROODY!!!) BUT!! I do fear for the mental health of my future kids when their daddy insists on going in to teenage parties to fetch them in his old faithful track suit pants (think the brother's grey tracks in The Family Stone)... or when he drives riiiight up to the door to drop them off with his oldies music blaring.... or when he takes thousands of photos from every angle of the kids on their first dates.

Ya. It's going to be bad.

What is the most embarassing thing your folks have done to you????

For Batchfoo:

Ching chong cha

Check out these boobees!

Scotland - where the thistles grow tall and the men wear skirts

OK so i know I'm a sucky blogger, but what can you do.

I am no longer a BM2B. The wedding 2 weeks ago was lovely thank you, the dress was girly, but it worked. I went to my sis in law's wedding thie weekend in the Burg of Jo and my man had to wear a kilt which as you can imagine i took great delight in. Sadly tradition states that men only go commando under a kilt when there is a king on the throne. Oh how I hoped all of last week that the queen would be ushered peacefully to her rest. Spared from the strain of public life, regally lead through the big pearly gates at last, ...But to no avail.

It seems, however, that a false rumour of the queen's passing must have circulated among the best men sometime later during the reception......

"My mother is a travel agent for guilt trips"

So a few weeks ago our blissful, unassuming little life was thrown into CHAOS! My mom was coming for a visit. Because it was business related she only gave us like 2 days notice. PANDEMONIUM ENSUED.

Dishes were washed, counters were wiped, the vacuum came out (ok, well it would have if we owned one).

My mom's visits can be scary. It wouldn't be a complete surprise if she whipped out a white glove and ran her finger along out of reach surfaces. I guess I should be grateful we had any warning at all...

I can picture the scene...

She'd arrive dressed in Vanish Pink and talk in that same off aussie accent "She looks worried, aaawm not, aaaaaw know that Vanish... bla bla bla" then she'd turn into a pseudo Ma Agnes type and ask if i have any stains in my toilet and have I heard of Harpic?

Imagine my rueful righteous glee then, when I spoke to her yesterday and she expressed terror at the impending visit of my very neat and tidy sister-in-law.....

Back to being a BM2B

Did I even tell you guys that I have had my bridesmaid dress made? (I'm really bad at sticking to the name of this blog and will probably need to change the name and the website address once I am no longer a bm2b - aka after the 7th Oct).....

okay CALM DOWN everyone. Let's all just take a deep breath and relaaaaax. I know you have saved this address in all your favourites. I know you have probably got it saved as your homepage. Don't worry.. I have no real intention of changing it. (Sounds too much like work!)

But yes, I have a bridesmaid dress. Unfortunately I am not at liberty to post the pic of the dress here on this site until after the wed has happened. But people, it is giiiirly!! Beautiful. But very very weird for a jeans and slops sort like myself! For the ladies who are interested (bear with me Menno) it is an almost 50's style dress with netting sticking out the bottom, completed with a string of pearls and a big flower on the boob. The other bridesmaid-to-be who also happens to be the SOB (sister of the bride) is better described as the BP (the beanpole) and so I must try to remember to avoid standing next to her in any photos on the day!

More BM2B relevant updates coming soon.

Secrets revealed.....(mostly)

So 4 of the 5 secrets have come to pass...
They were mostly not at all worth getting all worked up over! The 3 "less personal surprise secrets" had to do with the (hus)band's birthday - his brother, sis in law, best mate and dog all flew down from joburg to surprise him, then we went away for the weekend (I had to cancel a gazillion plans which he'd made behind his back and had to trick him into going to the airport at midnight....quite ingenious really) and then on Monday we had a type of a surprise little shindig for the guy. All very nice and he even gave the highest of all praise which was that "it was my best birthday ever".

Now if you know me at all, you will know that I'm one of the biggest birthday enthusiasts known to mankind. Now I don't want you to be silly and pedantic and try to compare me to a certain Nicolette Barry. NO-ONE rivals that girl for birthday excitement. She is in her own league when it comes to that. But discounting her, and comparing myself to other normal, sane people of human origin, I am BIG on birthdays. Hence the band's compliment is probably the equivalent of him looking at me with eyes full of concern and uttering "I'm worried about you, you are getting too thin". Truly.

So personal secret is still coming. Next month (or possibly toward the end of this month). I trust you'll all await it with bated breath. And I do promise, dear readership, that you'll be the first to hear about it at the alotted time.

The Good Samaritan

So off I was on my way to work. I was dressed quite nicely. Cute little heels. Good hair day (! I know !) And I drove past this eeeensy little blonde lady in these tight tight pants trying to push her Pajero.

I allowed myself a little smirk as I drove by... (that will teach you to be so thin. Aint no way your size 6 gonna move that car!)

The conscience set in about half a k down the road. I wrestled with it. "What good can I do in these heels. I'm sure someone else can help her. Come on!!!!" But the big C won.

I duly turned the car and drove back.

"Do you need some help?" I asked.

*puzzled look* "uh... no, I'm just waiting for a friend. We're going walking".

She had been stretching before.

DOH!

The joy and indeed the privilege of receiving an education

Seeing as I'm getting all personal and stuff, and also to celebrate my 20th post, I thought I'd dedicate this entry especially to all the teachers who read this, to all the mothers and to any person who has ever had a mother, also to all the women who've ever worn lipstick. Also, this is to all high school janitors who may be reading and to anyone who has ever kissed anything. HOPEFULLY, dear reader (Loesil) you fall somewhere into that list... you don't need to mention where ;o)

According to a news report, a certain school in Garden City, Miami was recently faced with a unique problem. A number of 12-year-old girls were beginning to use lipstick and would put it on in the washroom. That was fine, but after they put on their lipstick they would press their lips to the mirror leaving dozens of little lip prints. (Bless!)

Every night, the maintenance man would remove them and the next day, the girls would put them back. Finally the principal decided that something had to be done. He called all the girls to the washroom and met them there with the maintenance man. He explained that all these lip prints were causing a major problem for the custodian who had to clean the mirrors every night. To demonstrate how difficult it had been to clean the mirrors, he asked the maintenance man to show the girls how much effort was required.

He took out a long-handled squeegee, dipped it in the toilet, and cleaned the mirror with it. Since then, there have been no lip prints on the mirror.

THE MORAL OF THIS STORY:
There are teachers, and then there are Educators

Mullets are in!

To my loyal reader (aka Alet...fondly known as Mullet....often greeted with a crooning "oooh Alet")

I'd like to take this opportunity to express my utmost appreciation for your unwavering support even though I don't have a cousin who's a famous Afrikaans Idol. thanks

Ok, all done.

BYE!

He he... juuuust jokes.
I wouldn't do that to you.

What am I saying?? It's practically 5! On second thoughts I would do that!

:)

Adios
Over and Out

Bill Gates...the antichrist?

So what I didn't mention was that what my GP termed a virus (broadly speaking, of course), may have been contracted to or from my PC. Bluddy PCs and GPs all need a smack. Ya, last week was not a pleasant one. Both me and my computer were very ill (sorry, nikki, I know: "my computer and I"). My boss spent more than an hour on a call to Mumbai (yes, that's Mumbai in India) trying to fix the Beagle virus which was savagely attacking my computer. I got the distinct impression I wasn't too popular! My convulsive coughing was probably about as endearing as my computer virus spreading to all that work with me!

Anyway, I am convinced that I contracted my illness from my computer. It makes sense... after all I spend more time with it than anything else. And hence I blame Bill Gates for my ensuing cold (Which naturally lead to me putting my back out...HOW OLD AM I??? But yes, I coughed and spluttered enough that I pulled a back muscle and was chair ridden all weekend with the poor (hus)band having to wait on me hand and foot. (I hated every moment of it...)

A while ago I got a follow up call from Microsoft. The guy was paaaaaaainful. To start with he called at like 17.15. Who does that?! You've juuuust left the office, trying to put work behind you and you get a call from some bored and boring guy with a nasal voice and a sniff. Then he went through these questions; each a slight rephrasing of the previous one. "What was your impression of our service on the whole - on a scale of one to ten? What did you think of our customer service? Were you happy with the overall resolution of your enquiry?" and on and on and on for like 15 minutes. And with anything I said he would just say "ah ha"(sniff sniff) and go on to the next thing. Eventually he asked my impression of Microsoft on the whole and I answered "well mostly I have a positive impression of the company, unless Bill Gates is, in fact, the antichrist in which case I'd have to say that I have a somewhat negative impression of the company" "Ah ha"(sniff sniff) was his reply.

*cough cough splutter*

It seems that whenever I attempt any form of exercise my body launches a protest and I am smite (?) with some or other form of heinous plague.

The mind is willing but the body is not.

DOES THIS ONLY HAPPEN TO ME?

On Saturday not only did I go to the driving range...hey swinging a golf club is exercise!( You try doing it for an hour.) But I also went for a very noteworthy cross country jog.

After 2 days of the husband calling me "Athlete Wife" my body began to get exceedingly nervous and quickly became smitten with horrendous ills. It's like my body has declared some form of germ warfare on my good intentions to live up to the fast dwindling title of athlete wife.

Alas... or rather: EISH!

This message will self destruct in 10... 9... 8....

Well I got some encouraging news last week... but I'm keeping it a secret. Why you may ask would I be soooo annoying as to tell you that I have a secret and then not expand (much) on it? Well because it is as torturous knowing a secret and not being able to share it as it is not knowing one.

Actually at present I am harbouring 1 personal secret, 3 slightly less personal surprise secrets, and one secret to do with a friend.

SUFFER WITH ME PEOPLE!

It is not my place to share secrets with you which aren't mine to share, but one of them (the aforementioned "1 x personal secret") is mine to share, but I have chosen not to. How irritating of me.

I will tell you, however, that if all goes well, you will hear about the personal secret at the end of next month.

The 3 "slightly less personal surprise secrets" you will hear about in less than a month.

The secret to do with a friend is none of your business so stop being so nosy. Hehehe :)

On a less annoying note, last week saw me and my man celebrating 6 gorgeous months of marriage. Crazy but true!

Not that type of blog

Apologies to you all. I have been a useless blogger of late. The reason being that life is so busy.
I've had many ideas for entries... one of which was to be titled "Why moving house is not unlike attempting a coup plot on a small, wealthy dictatorial state" and my latest... "The similarities of Stellenbosch traffic cops and GPs - overlaps in a past life?" Maybe I'll expand on these later.

So you see, it's not that I haven't been thinking of this blog and you dear loyal reader (still get a kick out of that one!) it's more that I've been so exhausted from moving house (so over that! Left arm is still lame for those who care) and being sick with what my very expensive and oh-so-informative doctor told me is a "virus of some sort (broadly speaking)" that I've neglected to type. (I'm not the type?)

Ok, so as you may have picked up, the aforementioned broadly described virus is still playing havoc with my creative juices.