Because it's Friday!

(apologies to intelligent foreigners reading this blog!!!)

These questions about South Africa were posted on a South African Tourism Website and were answered by the website owner....

Q: Does it ever get windy in South Africa? I have never seen it rain on TV, so how do the plants grow? (UK)
A: We import all plants fully grown and then just sit around watching them die.

Q: Will I be able to see elephants in the street? (USA)
A: Depends how much you've been drinking.

Q: I want to walk from Durban to Cape Town - can I follow the railroad tracks? (Sweden)
A: Sure, it's only two thousand kilometres take lots of water.....

Q: Is it safe to run around in the bushes in South Africa? (Sweden)
A: So it's true what they say about Swedes...

Q: Are there any ATMs (cash machines) in South Africa? Can you send me a list of them in JHB, Cape Town , Knysna and Jeffrey's Bay? (UK)
A: What did your last slave die of?

Q: Can you give me some information about Koala Bear racing in South Africa? (USA )
A: Aus-tra-lia is that big island in the middle of the pacific. A-fri-ca is the big triangle shaped continent south of Europe which does not...oh forget it. Sure, the Koala Bear racing is every Tuesday night in Hillbrow. Come naked.

Q: Which direction is north in South Africa? (USA)
A: Face south and then turn 90 degrees. Contact us when you get here and we'll send the rest of the directions.

Q: Can I bring cutlery into South Africa? (UK)
A: Why? Just use your fingers like we do.

Q: Can you send me the Vienna Boys' Choir schedule? (USA)
A: Aus-tri-a is that quaint little country bordering Ger-man-y, which is...oh forget it. Sure, the Vienna Boys Choir plays every Tuesday night in Hillbrow, straight after the Koala Bear races. Come naked.

Q: Do you have perfume in South Africa? (France)
A: No, WE don 't stink.

Q: I have developed a new product that is the fountain of youth. Can you tell me where I can sell it in South Africa? (USA)
A: Anywhere where a significant number of Americans gather.

Q: Can you tell me the regions in South Africa where the female population is smaller than the male population? (Italy)
A: Yes, gay nightclubs.

Q: Do you celebrate Christmas in South Africa ? (France)
A: Only at Christmas.

Q: Are there killer bees in South Africa ? (Germany)
A: Not yet, but for you, we'll import them.

Q: Are there supermarkets in Cape Town and is milk available all year round?
A: No, we are a peaceful civilisation of vegan hunter-gatherers. Milk is illegal.

Q: Please send a list of all doctors in South Africa who can dispense rattlesnake serum. (USA)
A: Rattlesnakes live in A-meri-ca, which is where YOU come from... All South African snakes are perfectly harmless, can be safely handled and make good pets.

Q: I was in South Africa in 1969, and I want to contact the girl I dated while I was staying in Hillbrow. Can you help? (USA)
A: Yes, but you will probably still have to pay her by the hour.

Q: Will I be able to speek English most places I go? (USA)
A: Yes, but you'll have to learn it first.

PS Happy 250th Blog Post to me!!

Disturbing information

I'm in a carpool. When you see the same people first thing every morning, throughout the day and for the drive home in the evening you start to tell each other fairly arb stuff. There's an odd complacency which comes - kind of like those couples who've been married for twelve years and have reached a point where the wife plucks his nose hairs and the husband remembers to buy her her senokot. *shudder*
Anyway, as a carpool we have started to reach that point. It's a fascinating phenomenon really. The way we fight over who gets to ride shotgun and then portray nonchalance when it's not us. The way we play vicious games of Beer Me (whack the roof and shout "BEER ME!" whenever you see a car with one dim or broken headlight - this weather is GREAT for Beer Me!). The way one of us can cunningly get a bad 80's song stuck in everyone's head for an entire week. And the arbitrary little things we share with one another. This morning, for example, I felt to share the fact that I had my first ever GENUINE mock charge when I tasted some off milk. Just in case they were interested - you understand. Hellion, a commenter on this blog and possibly the only person in my real life who actually has access to it (oh the privilege!! - bring cake!) shared with us some particularly disturbing information. According to her, according to her friend, according to a pilot, if someone dies on board an aeroplane they have to be strapped in to a seat for the landing! Apparently it's the law. From now on I am choosing my plane seats more carefully. If someone looks touch and go I'm gonna find a reason to move... before it's too late!!

Post Toast Roast Coast

I have been such a dedicated blogger lately *pats herself on the back*
*grins cheesily* *grin develops into something of a grimace as heartburn starts up* BUGGER IT.

Being knocked up is not for sissies people. But sometimes it also really is. Like how no one can be bent with you if you fade. And NO ONE can fade like I can. It's inspiring really. I've been known to fall asleep in movies, watching DVDs, at dinner tables, at braais. There is definite narcolepsy in me. I have ALWAYS been this way. Take me as I am and all that. But now no one rolls their eyes when I do it. No one frowns disappointed at me. No one shakes their head thinking "Typical". Nope. They all just tilt their heads to the right (it's always the right - check next time you earn yourself a head tilt) and smile affectionately. "She is pregnant after all. Bless".

Anyway, time for an afternoon nap and some Gaviscon.

Choosing names wisely...

A psychiatrist was conducting a group therapy session with four young mothers and their small children.

'You all have obsessions,' he observed.

To the first mother, he said, 'You are obsessed with eating. You've even named your daughter Candy.'

He turned to the second Mom: 'Your obsession is with money. Again,it manifests itself in your child's name, Penny.'

He turned to the third Mom: 'Your obsession is alcohol. This too shows itself in your child's name, Brandy.'

At this point, the fourth mother quietly got up, took her little boy by the hand and whispered, 'Come on Dick, this guy has no idea what he's talking about.......... Lets pick Willy up from school and go home.'

The nesting phase

So I'm 25 weeks along. Crikey. Time is flying and dragging. This weekend I baked rusks for goodness sake. RUSKS people. And The Band and I looked at COTS. COTS! Incidentally The Band has his heart set on making the cot and compactum - which is just an annoyingly OTT name for shelves which are high enough to change a nappy without breaking your back).

BTW: If you ever want to have kids DO NOT go to Kids R us or Babies R us or whatever the name is until you are knocked up and it's too late. It's not just the painful abbreviation of the word "are" to "R" or the unnecessary use of inverted commas. There's something more about that place just gives me the heebees! I think it's all the kitschness. So much plastic. So many evil messages being sent to the kids. Like the game for 3 years + little girls called Shop til you Drop. Now why, as the kid's presumed only source of funding for the next 18 years, would you want to encourage that mindset? I think it may also be a combination of the stark flourescent lighting, the depressing clutter and chaos of random toys and yelling whiny kids and the cheap and nasty linoleum floors.

But, I digress.

What was I on about? Ah yes. The nesting phase. So you'd think we'd have been all babied out after those shops *Caz shudders* but no. We got home and (after a rather indulgent 3rd jacuzzi for the weekend) we lay in bed dreaming up nursery layouts. WHAT???? I KNOW!!!

So anyway. I'm not a Beatrix Potter, shades of pink, shades of blue or Winnie the Pooh nursery sort (isn't there enough of that happening once you have a baby?? Must the bear really be called that vile name??) My nursery idea is animals. AAAAH. I'm thinking of having low key decor - biscuit and white coloured stuff with fairy lights and then pics of baby animals printed onto canvas. AAAAAH. Now before you all vomit, look at the pics I have in mind...







I mean can you blame me for getting a little broody??

Swine flu is getting out of control

How you people find me

Oooh I'm so excited! All the cool bloggers always do posts like this and I've always been too technologically stunted to figure it out. Thanks to a bit of help though - thanks lady (",)- I am now on stat counter, receiving my weekly reports and musing over my statistical analysis. mmm not quite but sounded good.

Some of the search phrases that lead people to this blog are:
• Dying in boot camp (that’s about right)
• Jock strap fetish (because of this post)
• Five interesting facts about flame throwers (coz of this post)
• Lithuanian booty (well!!)
• My hormones are raging (well, I am knocked up after all!)
• Arizona supreme court (no idea!!!)
• Happy hole (?????best not to comment here I think!)

Anyway, I'll take whatever freakish readers I can get!! Welcome Oompaloompas of the internet!

Bump bio

Seeing as we appear to be doing a bit of a Focus on the Family vibe this week (ok, of course by "we" I am referring to the royal we AKA me) I thought it fitting that we do a Bump Bio today.

The Bump was...er....begun on 30 December 2008 at a luxury lodge in Zimbabwe following a sunset cruise on the Zambezi River. Nice!

The bump was discovered on 19 January. I was later than usual so we took a test not expecting to see TWO lines. We had, after all been careful... ah but a bubble bath is a tricky thing. Overshare! :)

I was so shocked at seeing it come up positive that I wanted to vomit (sorry bump!). The Band went and got 2 more tests. positive. positive.

The next morning we sent a telegram to both sets of grandparents and awaited their excited call. mmmmm. Telegrams are no longer instant. It took about 3 days!!

I first felt the bump move on 19 April. It was a Sunday and I was having a mid-arvie nap. It was awesome. Very gentle heartbeaty sensation. (Nowadays it's not quite so gentle!!)

The bump is nearly 2/3s of the way done. Due in mid-sept and if all goes well a water birth is on the cards. Very zen of me I know but it is coz I love bathing and I think it will work for me.

I went from being shocked senseless in January to well and truly adoring the bump now. We aren't finding out the gender but most people think it is a boy. I am pretty convinced it's a girl in which case we have a name all ready.

I think the best thing about the bump is that it's as if you always have company. So when I can't sleep in the middle of the night, all I do is lie in a certain way (which is guaranteed to wake the bump - don't judge me, it's either the bump or the band and if i wake the bump there is no retribution!!) the bump gets all perky and moves a bunch. Pretty cool.

The bump has been good to me. Compared with other bumps my bump has been a breeze. Comparatively small on the outside, felt mostly great, etc.

In just over 3 months, the Bump will transform into a Bambino and then the world will be a very different place.

Band Bio

Today I thought I'd tell you a bit more about The Band.

I do love this man.

He looks very different nowadays to when we got together - he used to have awful long curly hair and john lennon type specs. He also went through a dreadlock phase and a mullet phase.(Ya - you must know I loved the guy if I put up with that!!) Thankfully that rather odd phase has passed. Now he is plain hot. Hot legs. Hot butt. Hot smile.

He is incredibly caring and will give everyone the time of day - he's got all kinds of random friends as a result. Car guards and street sellers and homeless guys.

He does love to spoil me. You guys familiar with the Love Languages concept? Basically there are 5 love languages and each of us has one that we are most fluent in. They're all important obviously, but ussually there is one that makes you feel most loved and this is the one you are likely to best express. But obviously you need to look at your partner and see which he expresses and probably that is his love language and how you should show him you care.

They are:
gifts - the giving of personalised little gifts (even something as small as a chocolate with a note would count - it's the thought)
acts of service - our pastor reckons if men want to excel at foreplay they should start with washing the dishes. Wise man. It's doing little things like bringing your other coffee in bed or hanging the laundry.
words of affirmation - Mark Twain once said “I can live for two months on a good compliment.” Simple statements like "You are beautiful", "I love you" etc are sometimes all a person needs to hear to feel loved.
physical affection - Some people feel the most loved when they receive physical contact from their partner. Sex is only one aspect of this. It is holding hands, kissing, sitting with a hand on the persons knee or whatever.
quality time - Quality time involves sharing experiences, thoughts, feelings and desires in a friendly, uninterrupted context.

Anyway. What's your love language? Mine is physical affection. Definitely.
The Band's is gifts I reckon. He does love to spoil me. For my birthday last month I got the following.... brace yourselves. It is bordering on ridiculous:
an ipod
diamond earrings
clinique facial products
perfume - which he chose himself after hours and hours of smelling various scents

Ok, before you think we are super rich, much of this was the happy result of insurance from our second latest robbery, but still it could be spent however and he spent it on me.

This morning we had a non fight. What is a non fight? It's something where one person is upset but there is not the opportunity to discuss the issue due either to time constraints or the presence of other people or the unreadiness of that person to discuss it. But despite no words being exchanged YOU BOTH KNOW (even the boy!!) that there is an issue.

Later he arrived at my office with red roses and chocolate and a sorry. Yep. He is a keeper.

Only women truly know

how to cut other women DEEP!

Ok, I have to admit that for the most part I find it hysterical, but it is truly odd the things that people (actually, WOMEN) say to pregnant chicks.

I have a pregnant friend (K8) who's about 2 weeks ahead of me and she and I like to compare notes. So far she is getting it worse than I am but that's probably coz she is small and British and not very scary. This weekend a lovely old lady we both know says to her:

"So what do you think you're having?"
"I think it's a boy" says K8.
Lady gives her the once over and nods "Yep, I reckon it's a boy." she then continues (why oh why) to say "you know in Greece we believe that when you are carrying a boy you get that "wild look" - your skin is bad, the colour drains from your face, your hair goes all ratty."
And then (oh the very tactlessness of it) she says "And if you are carrying a girl -" (now perhaps you think she will make up for it - maybe say something like 'you get a huge ass or your hips get massive', but no)... "you glow".

I got one this weekend, but it wasn't soooo bad. more of a dreary warning really:

"So, you must be practically in your 3rd trimester and you don't even look pregnant" (Nice, right?... but short lived - that wasn't all...) "Mind you, I was about the same and then I put on 30kg in the last trimester." rather ominous.

But no one likes to hear a preggers chick is getting off lightly, which may explain the snotty comment I got today at work:

"Crikey - you are going to DROWN your kid with those!" (as skinny, flat chested, unpleasant middle aged woman makes 'massive boobs' gestures).

Also when people say "not long now" and I say how excited I am for the maternity leave they quickly make sure to drum in the fact that I better not think it's going to be restful or pleasant in any way or, better yet, they ignore me and commiserate with each other "snigger snigger... she has NO IDEA clearly." then they turn to me (ganging up now and gaining moment) "the first 3 months are hell. After that it's more hell. and as for the teenage years. well good luck. They're pleasant when they're 18 but then they leave and that's when you REALLY start worrying about them. tut tut."

hahaaha I managed to bite my tongue (but that's just coz i slept through the night - woohoo - no midnight peeing - and I am feeling particularly chipper today) but what I wanted to say was: "just because you birthed BRATS, doesn't mean I will." Or something slightly wittier.

I even had one the other day where a friend said I was having an easy pregnancy. I agreed and said I felt very fortunate. Another friend interjected that I shouldn't assume my next pregnancy will be as easy. she actually cackled evilly and said "bwa ha ha just wait and see with the second one. Could be rough". HEY????

Now K8 and I have come up with a theory as to why it's always women who say these things. (I mean, no offence boys, but if it was guys there'd be no mystery here. Guys are... well... a bit dense really) But women KNOW the power of their words. If a women says something like that she INTENDS you to feel crap - whether she intends it subconciously is debatable, but nevertheless. So let's look at the evidence and devise a hypothesis shall we? (yep - I'm in my little B.Sc stride now - mock me about my porridge brain you dissidents and I will drown you with my impressive vocab and wittiness and...um...other impressive stuff like that)

* all snotty comments come from women
* most women (of all ages) are fantastic
* but mostly those that are not are either divorcees or past what I suspect is a menopause type age or both
* the most basic of instincts is reproduction

Hypothesis:
There is a jealousy in these women. A pregnant lady is at her prime and is surrounded (for the most part) by loving supporter people who heap attention on her.

Next time I get a snotty comment I shall give a "glowing" and sympathetic smile and say "yes, but it is just such a privilege to be blessed with such fecundity. To bring new life into this world."

I think there is money to be made here. T-shirts, mugs, bumper stickers. I'm on to something.

Happy birthday to Cheeeeeessssssssss

A very happy 4 day birthday to Chester of Parklife fame. This is your birthday card. I reckon the following reasons warrant you deserving:
1) You love the bush
2) You aren't one of those creepy metrosexual male bloggers
3) Anyone who has a 4 day birthday is cool in my book

And so voila, Happy Birthday... a picture of the female leopard at Ngala - the first and only leopard I have ever seen. I think it is the same one you referred to? Clara or something?

F my life

I have discovered what may just be my new favourite website. Check it out here (Thanks Meegs for sharing!)
What's great about F my life is that no matter what is going on in your day there is bound to be a story there that's worse and, if not, you get to share yours! :)

Some examples from the site:

Today, I was sitting at my college campus, there were good looking girls all around me and I was trying to catch their eye and smile, letting them know I'm available. A butterfly flew by me and I screamed. FML

Today, my friend and I decided to wear a new red lipstick. The guy I like turned around, looked at her and said, "Red is a really interesting, sexy color. Pretty bold. Not bad." and he smiled. I waited, smiling also, only for him frown and say, "Your teeth are REALLY yellow." FML

Today, my dad told me about how my mother had a bad dream last night and began to scream "Don't take me, take my children!" FML
he he he

A Long December

I was listening to Counting Crows "A Long December" today and this memory flooded back:

So I was something of a late bloomer I guess. My brother Matt (who is 2 years older than me) and I REALLY clashed. Even today our relationship is not a comfortable one. We gave each other a hard time, I guess. I suppose it's all part of character development and all that, but let's just say he certainly made sure that I wasn't any more confident in myself than was due. In his eyes I was scholastically bright, fairly sporty, but that was the sum total of my talents. In terms of teenage appeal (the only thing any young girl wants to excel at) I was nowhere according to him and hence, according to me.

Inevitably, i guess, my brother had a best friend. B. B lived down the road and was always at our house. He was older, GORGEOUS, super clever and sporty. The full package. And, of course, he was so so sweet to me. Would defend me to my brother and would tease me.

At school events he was never too cool to talk to me (making me the envy of all my friends) and eventually, one night, at a party we slow danced to Long December. He kept saying "I can't believe you're my best friend's little sister".

Nothing came of it til years later at university when we eventually hooked up one night. I guess in a way it was a let down. The whole charm all along had been of this wonderful, unattainable, older man. That being said, had it never happened I suppose I would have always wondered at the chemistry between us.

A couple of weeks later I received an SMS from my brother asking me if B and I had kissed. I didn't know what to do so I SMSd B. My brother (on the other side) had grabbed B's phone and read my reply. It didn't go down too well which in a way, I guess, tells me that my brother is overprotective of me and does give a damn.

Despite all this, to this day when I hear A Long December I am 16 again, slow dancing with the most gorgeous boy I know and feeling like a million bucks.

The Meltdown

Well it finally happened somewhere circa Saturday 2.30pm.
The Meltdown.


Weeks ago I'd agreed that we have a braai with a bunch of old friends on Saturday afternoon at our place (Curse that indoor braai which leaves no excuse for cancelling). Up to this point it had been a hectic weekend and we really got home only then for the first time.

I started tidying up frantically in time for the influx... the Band (oh, such naivete) said "why are you doing that now?" and that, friends, was his gravest error.

I replied "because I want it done now. There are people coming over and I am not happy with the way this place looks."

"But," he replies enduring along that tragic walk to oblivion, "why now? you've been ok with it til now. Why now?"

And then I manifested.

"I have not been ok with ANY of it til now. But I leave things and suck it up and suck it up some more until I reach a point where I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!"

Which is when he gently steered me to the privacy of our bedroom (because, OBVIOUSLY, we were not alone). Poor harry was furiously vacuuming up a storm by this stage. Shame. But it wasn't that. It was J's dishwasher. And tumble dryer. And Shelves. All in my bluddy dining room for the past month and a half. (There is already an entire bedroom which is packed floor to ceiling which his stuff) It was the bicycles and surf boards in the entrance hall. It was Harry's 3 racks of dodgy wet washing (including the "leppies" - leopard print jocks. He's an odd one) in our braai room. It was the lack of space - physical and emotional I guess.

Well I went to my room and cried. BLUDDY HORMONES. While I heard The poor Band rearranging the house in fast forward. Then he came to rub my inconsolable back. I told him that there's not another woman on the planet who could survive this. Pregnant or not. And he said he's so sorry. He also didn't think it would be like this and for so long and he knows it's tough on me.

That is really all I needed.
Men: a tip. All we women want is for our feelings to be validated. We want to know that you understand or are at least trying to. And then we want to be taken on a shopping spree. Which is how The Band and I (who both hate the mall) spent Sunday. Buying me clothes. Then watching a movie. Then going out for dinner. Just the two of us.

Plans to keep Caz sane in the home which has become a commune

• Start inviting all my GIRL mates over ALL THE TIME.... I like this one.

• Start escaping to my girl’s places.

• Start talking about siff girl things like the menstrual cycle, the woes of pregnancy, etc. At meal times.

• Ask the guys to help me with things like ironing and folding baby clothes.

• Be the one to choose the DVDs... (you, me and dupree for starters – thanks T) and ensure they have not so subtle subliminal messages on them!

• Start cooking only for me... claim the whole pregnant vegetarian thing.

• Stop wiping up and cleaning compulsively and let it all slide.

• Wait for the next inevitable call from a telemarketer and give them the phone numbers of my honorary housemates.

Ok guys... i need your suggestions here....

ooooh, so that's how...

Bugger it.

So either the hormones have kicked in or I am just needing sleep and space. Perhaps a combination.

At the moment our mate J is staying with us (since beginning of April til we move at end June). Since he has been there, Harry (who lives in the flat on the property) BASICALLY lives there as well. These guys are great. Don't get me wrong, but it gets a bit much. Sometimes I just want to shlop around in my undies. Sometimes I don't want to be wiping up after everyone every five minutes. I am a germaphobe, no denying that. Sharing a kitchen with 3 guys is... stretching.

Plus I am very conscious of the fact that this would be the last time that it's actually just The Band and I. Come September, there will be kids in the house for the next couple of decades! Except that this can't be the last time, because we aren't alone.

Again, let me say that the guys are great and it's not them, and it's lots of fun and lots of laughs, but sometimes I just need my space. I think what I battle with is that The Band doesn't really see it. He is a boy, after all, so it doesn't affect him. In fact for him it's probably the ultimate - mates and woman all having a fun time. Boys are so different. They don't seem to need privacy like girls do. I love cooking, but cooking for 4 pretty much every night? a bit much.

Of course I got no sleep last night for some unknown reason so I am grumpy as hell this morning. This morning I found something dodgy looking in my porridge and had to flee the kitchen. To go cry. Pathetic but true. I need my sleep people. I am grumpy as hell without it.

In loving memory of Booster

The faithful steed who saw us through a 9000km once in a lifetime trip, through crater-sized potholes and glue-like mud in Zim, through rain, shine and corruption in Zambia and through coconuts and chemically induced insomnia in Mozambique is gone.


Booster, a 2x4 Toyota Hilux double cab, was one of VERY few cars NOT to get stuck in Mana Pools. 4x4 landrovers and cruisers were getting stuck left, right and centre, but not our Booster.

Booster left us yesterday, tragically taken from our lives by a thief in Cape Town. Booster, you will always hold a special place in our hearts. We love you buddy and hope they'll be good to you!

The cursed house

It all seemed so good when we moved in... the jacuzzi, the pool, the indoor braai.
Ah but there were warning signs. Like the fact that the previous tenants had a life size painting of a faun (goat/man thingmajig - I think it's a faun but I'm a little behind on mythological folk so who knows). Or the fact that the estate agent has PINK pencilled on eyebrows and was downright rude to us from the start.

Well ten months later the pool is STILL brown - it was broken when we moved in, they got some cheapo fix job which lasted a month and it has been broken ever since, we have been robbed 4 times and I am ready to get violent with the pink eyebrow wench.

In spite of the pool being as it is, in spite of us asking for increased security (which we will happily pay for) since August and being told (SINCE AUGUST) they are busy getting quotes, in spite of the fact that they KNOW I'm pregnant, she is giving us attitude still. The Band let her know we'll be moving out at the end of the contract period. She replies that the garden is not in an acceptable state and we have 7 days to sort it out. Now we have a regular garden service so I genuinely don't know what she means, but as the Band pointed out, if she comes to inspect any part of the property she has to MAKE AN APPOINTMENT to do so. But nevertheless, WHAT ABOUT THE BLUDDY POOL AND THE BLUDDY LACK OF SECURITY AND THE FACT THAT AN AXE WAS LEFT ON MY DRESSING TABLE ON ONE OF THE MANY TIMES THIS PREGNANT WOMAN WAS BURGLED?????

I am going to Hello Peter her ass the second we are out of there!!!

The real reason I'm in conservation...

If you every thought I was a fantastic do-gooder for being in conservation, you may be disillusioned. I discovered the real reason I am passionate about fighting climate change HERE yesterday.
I'm sure you'll all agree it's a noble cause.
(Shrink you evil bastards!!! SHRINK!!!)