Watching out for the green flash...

'Headed off to Clifton 2nd Beach after work yesterday for sundowners with friends. Magic...

Today's little pearl of wisdom

I learnt something quite valuable this morning. I learnt that no matter how rushed you are to get to work, you should keep an eye on the red flashy light thing that tells you when you are low on fuel. Because when you least expect it, you may find yourself stranded on the side of the highway.

Jeez. 'Not a good way to start the day...

Da Ya Think I'm Sexy?

The older I get, the harder its becoming to live la vida loca on a school night, and still be a relatively well functioning person the next day. I miss those days when I could party all night long and still make it to work the next morning without looking like I'd been dragged through a dumpster. Regardless, there are times when there is no choice but to put on the big girl panties, bite the bullet and carpe the diem. Whoa, cliche overload. Anyhoo, last night I toddled off to see old-school rocker/crooner Rod Stewart, who was playing at Newlands' Sahara Park. Sure, he's a tad long in the tooth and more my parents' kind of taste, but nonetheless it was a great show.

We sat in the cheap seats. (Read: all the way in the very back.) But that was actually okay. Of course, he played all the old stuff, which was fab. There was lots of singing, dancing, arm-waving and concerty-kinda stuff going on, and by the time the Rodster packed up his stuff and left, we were pretty worn out. We also found ourselves with an insanely large bunch of Irishmen (who are in Cape Town for some or other house-building charity thing). Seriously, there were hundreds of them! And in true Irish style, they were all incredibly festive. And by festive, I mean loud. We had loads of laughs with them (very friendly bunch) and when Rod wasn't singing, the Irish were. I kid you not: it was like being at a football match! 'Danny Boy'... 'It's a long way to Tipperary'... all being belted out at top volume. Luckily, having folks who are both Glaswegians meant I knew the words to some of the songs and so I merrily joined in for a sing-song. Ah, good fun!

Then it was off to Kelvin Grove for a nightcap or two while we waited for the post-concert traffic to clear. Hence, it was a rather late night - not helped by the fact that they closed the gate on the other side of a school field we had to cross to get to the car. I tried to scale the fence but only got half way over. It was quite a drop and so changed my mind and went back the way I came. Needless to say, my 'dismount' was less than ladylike and today I have a couple of whopper bruises as a reminder. Live and learn.

Anyway, I crawled into bed at about 1.30 this morning and when the alarm went off after what felt like very little sleep, I wanted to cry. The powers-that-be at work knew that I was off to a concert, and so calling in sick would've been a little too obvious. Awoooo... I'm really looking forward to home time. I think I may eat dinner in bed. Hey, don't judge me. It's not very nice.

Hope it tasted good. Real good.

As far as Mondays go, this one's been not too shabby. Weather-wise, it's a beautiful Cape Town day. Plus, there's hardly anyone in the office, which is just how I like it. Oh, and I'm having a fairly decent hair day for a change, so you know, things are looking up. But my Disney morning nearly went pear-shaped when I headed to the office kitchen for my breakfast. (Yes, I eat it here at work because there's never enough time at home, and that's just how I roll.) I was disappointed that my lovely yoghurt which I had left in the fridge had far surpassed its sell-by date. I wasn't brave enough to risk food poisoning so I tossed it away, knowing that I still had a full box of Jungle Oats on top of the fridge.

So you can imagine how pissed off I was when I discovered somebody had helped themself to my Jungle Oats and had finished off the entire box!!!!!!! WTF? Really, people! If you really wanted some of my brekkie, you could've asked and I would gladly have given you some. But to just help yourself, and SCOFF THE WHOLE BOX? And it was a big box too. Seriously, what's wrong with these people? I even wrote my name on the box. It's not higher grade. If that's not your name, then that's not your food. Arg! So irritating.

I'm not going to let a stupid thing like breakfast ruin my day (though really, it's the principle of it all) but to the saddo who polished off my porridge, Karma's a bitch, and I hope it bites you in the ass.

TGIF x infinity and beyond

1. I'm insanely glad it's Friday. In preparation for the lovely sundowner(s) I'm about to enjoy, I'm spending my last few minutes in the office doing absolutely nothing. It's surprisingly easy considering I shut down mentally about six hours ago. (Yep, no one's going to accuse me of being Employee-of-the-Month.)

2. It's been 'one of those weeks' and so I have nothing positive to say. I'll try again next week, but in the meantime, let's all enjoy a good perve over our good friend, Hugh. Apparently he's been named sexiest man 2008, though let's face it - we didn't need some stupid poll to tell us that!

Sweet dreams, kids. Catch you on the flipside...

Hamba Kahle, Mama Afrika

This morning, South Africa woke to the news that Miriam Makeba had died. Apparently she was taking part in a concert in Italy when she fell ill. She passed away a few hours later.

Miriam Makeba made her musical debut in the 1950s, at a time when the oppressive apartheid regime ruled the country with an iron fist. Before long, she moved to England, where she collaborated with artists such as Harry Belafonte, who helped her move to the US. Makeba was extremely unpopular in the eyes of the apartheid regime, and when she tried to return to South Africa to attend her mother’s funeral, she found her passport had been revoked. Three years later, the government also revoked her South African citizenship and her right to ever return to her country of birth. She was officially in exile. Her music was somewhat political in nature, and An Evening with Belafonte/Makeba (which was about the political plight of black South Africans) earned her a Grammy Award. Makeba testified at a special United Nations hearing about the atrocities of the apartheid regime in 1963. Much later, in 1986 she won the Dag Hammarskjöld Peace Prize for her role as a delegate to the United Nations.

30 Odd years after being forced into exile, Nelson Mandela convinced her to come home to South Africa.

Mama Afrika (as she was fondly called) had a unique musical style. Her trademark song was Pata Pata, The Click Song (Qongqothwane in Xhosa) and it epitomises Makeba’s inimitable style. (Check it out on iTunes if you have the chance.)

Hamba Kahle, Mama Afrika. Hamba Kahle.

Three little things I learnt over the weekend...

01. When a man you don't know very well asks you out for dinner, it's not necessarily a date per se. (You may think it is, but it's wise to double-check. Because you may be wrong. Go figure.) It could just be dinner.

02. Waxing any part of your body is just as sore as they say it is, if not more so. (pain x infinity = baby smooth)

03. The house white wine at Peddlars is incredibly bad. (It comes with its own froth.) It should not be drunk by ANYONE. Ever.

Now please, use these little pearls of wisdom wisely...

.

Bring on the Man Buffet

Whew! It's been a hectic couple of weeks but I'm still here to tell the story, so I guess that's something, right? I finished my assignments (and submitted the last one 3 minutes before the cut-off. Nothing like a little drama) and then got stuck into a week long workshop that my company sent me on. Quite interesting - all about managerial skills blah blah blah. Only problem is, it would appear that this little minion is never going to have to worry about a promotion / salary increase / personal growth at work because they practically keep me locked in the dungeon, chained to my PC. Okay, maybe that's a slight exaggeration. But seriously, they should've saved their money and bought me a big bottle of wine instead. All the course did was make me feel rather revolutionary. So now I'm mulling my next move. Mutiny, perhaps? Will see. I might just wait till after Christmas.

Anyhoo, in amidst stressing about my studies and work stuff, I also toddled along to my very first (are you ready for this)... (wait for it)... round of SPEED DATING!!! Yes, that's right. Months of nagging from my friends and some curiousity finally got the better of me, and so I signed up. And what a blast! (Though in case you're wondering, no - I'm not married / engaged / in lurve / etc. [So it wasn't that good.]) It was held at a local restaurant, and I kinda expected them to be quite discreet about it (room in the back, secret password, etc). But no. There was a big long table at the front of the restaurant and there sat a Man Buffet of about 12 guys of all shapes, sizes, races and nationalities. It felt like Christmas. I gratefully accepted my glass of complimentary (and much needed) bubbly and sat down across from bachelor number one. Totally psyched. Once everyone arrived, the evening officially started and I proceeded to spend about 5 minutes with each guy. Of course, 5 minutes isn't very long and I pretty much got the same questions from most guys. What do you do? Whereabouts do you live? What's your star sign? Are you married? (Dude, would I be here if I was?!?!?)

The guys themselves were like a big packet of Liquourice All-Sorts. Everything from a plumber to a lawyer. Black, white, coloured and even Chinese. Some quiet and shy. Some not so much. (Joseph, the male nurse from Cameroon, assured me that as a Scorpio he was an ace love-maker, and that he would 'look after me like a lee...eetle egg' [Run!]) But for the most part, the guys were really nice.

There was, however, a catch. 'Seems SABC 3 is doing some doccie thing where they follow a couple of guys around the city, and one of the things they end up doing is speed dating. So on both ends of the Man Buffet sat particularly gorgeous specimens, complete with cameramen, lighting guys and one of those fluffy hanging mike things. So much for discretion. I definitely got the impression that they were there purely for the sake of the doccie and had absolutely no interest in meeting girlies through speed dating, so in that sense, it was a waste of time. Plus, their producer also took part in the speed dating, but I'm willing to bet my right kidney that he was gay, so really - where's the use in that??!?!? (I really hope they don't use any of the footage with me in it. I tried very hard to ruin my shots by talking into the camera. Either way, it'll probably air in June next year, which gives me plenty of time to leave town, change my name and dye my hair a different colour.)

So, after all that, I ended up with a couple of matches, though nothing too mind blowing. Nice guys though, so it's not all for nought. And it's definitely much easier than going on a blind date.

Me and a couple of my new buddies

Some of the lads took the concept of Man Buffet far too literally

The 'No-Shirt' policy threw me a bit, but who was I to complain?

Yo, listen up! Blog Action Day: POVERTY

When it comes to the subject of poverty… seriously, where do you begin? It’s everywhere you look, everywhere you go. Of course, that’s to varying degrees. In an African context, poverty is a factor we live with everyday to the point where the man in the street has become somewhat complacent about the issue. On top of news stories of starving children and homeless families, there’s the everyday aspect. It’s rare to stop at a traffic intersection without being approached by at least one person, asking for money.

So what can we do? If you’re like me, then chances are you don’t have the odd million stored in the bank waiting for a person or organisation in need. Let’s face it, times are tough for everyone and so in spite of your truly altruistic personality, sometimes handing over oodles of moola just isn’t an option. So then what? Well what about the concept of ‘pay it forward’? Random acts of kindness, however small, go a long way in making a difference in our world. For the most part, kindness doesn’t cost a cent, and call me naïve, but I’m convinced compassion and kindness make a difference. So you can’t fork out money to every guy that asks for a handout. But you can pay him the respect and dignity he deserves as a human being.

On top of that, there are lots of projects on the go that tackle poverty in different ways. Be it a Shoebox Collection (more on that later) or helping out on a Habitat for Humanity initiative, every little bit goes a long way. Next week, my company is doing its CSI bit by helping to build houses at one of the nearby townships, Mfuleni. I’ll update this with more details later, but it’s a great project where over a period of five days, we’re going build two houses for families that don’t need a home. I’ll be there on Day 5, getting stuck in and doing what I can. Nothing glamourous there folks, but I’m going to try my damndest to make a hard hat and work gloves look fab! (‘Wonder if they come in pink?… )

But seriously, if you look around, there are lots of ways to get involved in tackling poverty in your neighbourhood, state, country, whatever. Remember, it starts small, so do your bit to make a little difference and together we’ll make a big change!

Time ain't on my side...

Oh crap. Having just checked the calendar, it seems there are only 9 sleeps left until I have to submit the last two assignments due on the 15th. (I need to write these assignments, otherwise they won't let me write the exam.) It's particularly worrying seeing as I have a couple of nasty work deadlines to contend with this week, and next week I'm being sent on some arb (attendance mandatory) work course. BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE! I've just taken a look at one of the assignment questions and it seems I have mistakenly read the wrong book. Dumb-ass! Now I have some serious catching up to do before I can even tackle the assignments.


So guess I'll be back after the 15th, then. No red wine or happy times for me. Time to knuckle down and cram like there's no tomorrow. No rest for the wicked.