NEW YEARS RESOLUTIONS

Okay Peeps, so it’s that time of the year again when we all, with the greatest intentions, make up our New Years resolutions. I have a strategy this year which I think will guarantee me a 50% success ratio (which in terms of NY’s resolutions I think is a rather high percentage). Strategy: make lots, therefore when someone asks you “How many have you kept?” and you say 12, that sounds really high. Obviously try and avoid the “How many did you make” conversation as this will give away your strategy.

So below is my list which you can all pretty much guess the 50% I’ll be keeping:

1) Stop smoking. Check. Had my last little cancer stick this morning. Good bye cruel little tobacco men, rest in peace in someone else’s lungs.

2) Start training for Oceans. Check. Ran 25kms this morning (and then had the most delicious cigarette ever). Damn you Marlboro Silver’s to hell!

3) Buy utensils for my kitchen so that I can actually use it to cook as opposed to using it as a bar.

4) Learn how to cook.

5) Learn how to say “No”. Otherwise, learn how not to sleep and generate an additional 6 arms.

6) Learn how not to sleep and generate an additional 6 arms!

7) Find a magic genie in order to raise £1500 for the London Marathon.

8) Tell all your friends you are running the London Marathon as they need to contribute to this worthy cause. (As a side note, I really am running this and really do need to raise £1500 for this Charity that I am running for (Phab Kids) so I will be creating a Just Giving Webpage where you guys can just chuck all extra cash lying around into that for such a worthy cause)

9) Find a sponsor for flight tickets to get to London Marathon.

10) Try keeping as many of the above as possible!

Happy New Year Peeps, may 2010 be a little less chaos filled and lot more fun and love filled!

CATCH UP TIME

Crisis Peeps, 2 weeks without any word vomit at all, you have to know its bad when… There’s just so much to fill you in on I barely know where to begin. The installation of death, the date that renewed my faith in romance and of course, the mystery golf eating truck saga.

I’ll start at the very beginning, a very good place to start… kidding. So it all started with the installation to end all installations. The coupe de gra of my career, the big cahoona, the one that was going to make it all worth while… and ended 9 solid days later after 14 hour slogs with the installation (due to last of 5) complete and me sitting resplendent in my site clothes at the airport chomping at the bit to get on the plane to George (literally praying this pilot knew how to fly) where I knew my bestest Thunder would be waiting cosmo and heels in hand, she did not disappoint! So now I sit, relaxed to the max, phone thrown into the sea and totally getting my chill on…

The past 10 days have been the most manic I have had in my little pin prick on this planet. It has literally been a case of “If it can go wrong, it will, and in spectacular fashion”. 1 house, 100 men, 1 woman with a seriously determined look on her face and the likes of challenges not even the big man upstairs could conceive when he created Adam (because let’s me honest, you have to make a rough draft before the final product :). It was awesome, terrifying and exhilarating at the same time, but I wouldn’t want to do it again in a while. It knocked me sideways and it took all the strength and determination I had to pull through, not to mention a little help from a few special people!

That’s where the date that renewed my faith in romance came in. Totally topped up my depleted reserves of faith, personal ability and confidence. Not to mention had this Crazii Redhead totally and utterly speechless. Yes, I kid you not, dressed in a little black dress and heels, this little know-it-all was completely stunned. 12 long stem red roses, private wine cellar, candles, scattered rose petals… I know, right! Men take notes! It was incredible, the Chef really pulled out all the stops and I’m still unable to find the words…

So that only leaves my poor little blue baby girl and her surgery. Yes Peeps, we took her in before I departed for the heaven that is Plett and she is currently undergoing what can only be termed as a very traumatic but necessarily bit of plastic surgery. Cordie, we’re all rooting for you my little one and I’ll see you in a few days, shining as new!

Ciao Peeps, Merry Christmas to you all! If I find some time in between the sleeping and beaching, I promise to update on the colour of the sand, sea water temperature and number of mince pies consumed in one sitting!

Hugs and kisses all, to a brand new year of fun, excitement and completed hearts.

CHAMPAGNE THURSDAY

So as it would happen I managed to have the wine, but the anger has not decreased and the preference for delightfully inappropriate words has not subsided! The enduring and apparently impossible quest to find the mystery golf eating truck continues, as does the constant communication from the mean little car beater about when poor Cordelia is going in for surgery!

On a lighter note however, it is Champagne Thursday and to celebrate in true style, Thunder and I will be attending the Jimmy Choo Launch Party tonight! Yes ladies and gents, an evening surrounded by stilletto’s, smoked salmon and Moet… I’d be wetting myself too! So the only real challenge for the day is… “What to wear?”

BAD DAY

Oh my goodness gracious… I have honestly had one of the worst days ever, in the history of bad days, this is it. This cannot be topped. Not even the news of Daniel Craig finally coming to his senses and proposing to me could make me feel better. I’m not kidding. On a scale of 1-10, I’d put today at about 237! Why, you ask? I’ll tell you why… 2 things:

1) Emergency Site Meeting
When you hear those three words in sequence like that you panic ala “Honey I think my water just broke" panic while you’re sitting in a 6 part opera, listening to part 2 in a theatre of over 1000 people! Nobody wants to hear the word ‘emergency’ 2 days before they’re due to pull off the biggest installation of their young career. I mean seriously… 2 days people, 2 days! I do not have the constitution for this kind of stupid behavior! 6 weeks ago maybe… but not today!

Builder: Can we move the installa…
Me: Pfft, do not finish that sentence because the answer is No.
Builder: But you see we’re a lit…
Me: You being behind, not my problem, answer still No.
Builder: But then we might have to work on weekends and the…
Me: Am I speaking a different language?
Builder: No.
Me: So you do understand English?
Builder: Yes.
Me: So why does there appear to be such confusion here?
Builder: It’s just that…
Me: N.O. smallest, simplest, easiest to understand word in the English dictionary, NO. Learn it, remember it, because I will be saying it until you ask me in 8 days time, are you finished? At which stage I will reply “Yes”. These are the only 2 words we need to speak to each other over the next few days.
Me: You like me?
Builder: No.
Me: Well the feeling is mutual so at least we agree on something!

And so I walk away with my meanest, most commanding pace and do not look back! And then I get to my car… Well, half my car and the little bit that the mystery truck managed NOT TO DRAG AWAY WITH IT! Poor Cordelia is half the baby she used to be and bruised and battered to boot. Any witnesses, Of course not! So begins the saga of the mysterious golf eating truck and malevolent little panel beater man.

I shall report back with findings when I’m less angry, less prone to profanity and have had some wine!

PERSONAL BESTS

I had a weekend of personal bests this last weekend. Had my personal best party with Thunder in a long long time. Had my personal best hangover because of Thunder in a seriously long time, and ran my personal best half marathon!

Let’s start with the half marathon, easier to remember and doesn’t have the word jaegermeister in the story, anywhere! It does however involve waking up at 4:30am to don running kit, sun cream and my new little babies that are my Redbull, because they give me wings! Yes, I’m talking about my pink and silver speed racers fondly known to the average human as running shoes! I love those babies. Anyway, up at the crack of sparrows to drive to Somerset West to run. Yes, crazy, I know. Thrilling and fun for the average runner (I’m officially allowed to be called a full blown runner now because I’ve done a marathon, it’s all very exciting), but seriously loopy to the average person! Lourensford Wine Estate here I come. With brand new white running shoes. To run in amongst the Winelands. On gravel and sand. Over water and mud… Can you see where I’m going with this??? My poor little speed racers were so upset their bright lustre was being destroyed with every pounding step that they flew to the finish in order to get home and cleaned! So there you have it, personal best on a trail run because my takkies are vain!

Onto the party… Wow, now there’s a story that involves lots of jaegermeister, zero flat shoes at all and a hellavu lot of bum shaking! It all started with the beach. I know, again… I think I might be addicted. But that’s another story. So I’m on the beach with the GBF and Thunder and we’re musing about the evening’s plans. Beach gets boring and we decide to move the musing to my house where there are lots of bubbles, which always assists in the creative process! 3 bottles of bubbles later and Thunder and I know exactly what we want to do… dance! 1 x call to Rikki’s, 1 x trip to Caprice and 1 x seriously amazing night! Now for all of you who know me, I’m not a Caprice fan. And that’s putting in mildly. But considering which shoes I was wearing and that I was a least a head taller than all the gorgeous blonds in the place, I put my insecurites behind me and toasted them away with many much loved jaegerbombs! Cheers Thunder! One small walk down the strip to St Yves (Old Ignite) and we were bum shaking until we weren’t allowed to bum shake anymore!

Sunday morning and OMG… somebody get us a cream soda, stat!

NIGHT WALKER

I went to the beach this weekend. Twice. I know, outrageous! Could it possibly be true, the night walker ventured out into the daylight clad in a two piece voluntarily stepping foot onto… SAND?!? Yip, I did, it is all true and I have witnesses to that effect. Thunder and Pint Size where both there and they can vouch for me… sort of… well maybe… kind of… a version of me was there…

You see, in my Craziiland where good ideas reside and crazii ideas actually happen I suggested the beach without really thinking the whole process through. Night walker, on the beach, bikini, blinding light, mass exodus, many ambulances, jail sentence for indecent reflective blinding etc etc. I think you get the point. So in a moment of wild panic “OMG, I’ve now suggested the beach and actually have to go, but how do I go without donning a long sleeve shirt and jeans and not looking like a complete Dutch Tourist…” I had an epiphany *PING* Spray Tan. Yes my lovely friends, this paler than pale redhead went from vanilla with choclate sprinkles to camel leather in a matter of minutes. Ask Thunder, she has lots of comments on the matter…

This it how the process went. Arrive at salon on time for transformation:

Spray Tan Angel: Hi Crazii, why don’t you hop into the shower and I’ll see you when you’re done.
Me: Sure…
(Ummm… water not getting warm, do you think you’re supposed to shower in artic temperature water, maybe it opens the pores)
Me: eek, wow, eish this is cold, right, you can do it, go!
STA: Crazii, you okay in there?
Me: Fine, just exfoliating (and freezing my ass off, WTF, why am I doing this again… right, jail sentence)
STA: Crazii, you done?
Me: (In voice 30 decibels higher than normal) Yes, on, grrrr, my, grrrr, way, grrr, out.
STA: Crazii, what on earth, why are you so cold?
Me: Shower… has… no…warm…tap…thought…it…was…all…part…of…magic…transformation.
STA: Crazii, it’s a mixer, left is warm, right is cold.
Me: Right…

Anyway, shower episode out of the way, magic transformation begins:

STA: So, what function are you going to?
Me: Function, no function, beach.
STA: You’re going to the beach?
Me: Yes…
STA: So why are you getting a spray on tan when you’re going to the place that will give you one naturally.
Me: Ah, you see, I have a theory. If I go to the beach tanned, I don’t blind anybody. While I’m saving the world from future blindness I’m getting a real tan under my fake tan. So when I get home and shower off fake tan, I have real tan left.
STA: Crazii, you do realize that you’re a night walker, night walkers don’t tan.
Me: I’m stripping you of you Spray Tan Angel status… pfft Thunder stealer!

Needless to say, I am back to night walker status with only a few hundred million more chocolate sprinkles! But still desperately set on hitting the sand again!

DIFFICULT DECISIONS

Making the decision to be alone is one of the hardest decisions I have ever made in my life. I am a part of a whole type of person. I have always been with a partner since I was able to date. 6 months between long term relationships is not enough time to realize who are you and find out how you like your eggs, scrambled or fried. I think that each person in the relationship needs to be whole individually, before the relationship can blossom. You cannot be a half and rely on the other person to be the other half and support you all the time. Which is why I currently find myself in the position that I am in at the moment. Alone. By myself. Without a partner. Self inflicted of course but I think the best decision for me at the moment. Because as I said before, I am a part of a whole type of person… I need to learn to be a whole.

My decision is hurting the person I am trying most not to hurt, by doing this. I know this sounds very confusing but this is how I see it. Being together I oscillate between saying yes to something one day, and then saying absolutely no to the very same thing the next day. And then I cry. For Hours. I’m everywhere and nowhere at the same time and it’s not conducive for a loving relationship. Not withstanding the issue I have with not really knowing who I am or loving myself or knowing what I want from life, therefore how can I possibly give love to others. Anyway… with all this going on I decided that the best decision for us in the long run and the best decision for me currently was to part and for me to be alone. I do not know if there will be an us in the long run or not. All I am doing is trying to figure me out and this is the course of action I have chosen.

Yes, I know what you all are thinking… super selfish and doesn’t he have a say in the matter. Of course he does! And he has been amazing. We have discussed it a number of times, going in circles, figuring new things out each time and all he wants is for me to be happy. The selfish and unselfish trying to figure out life’s intricacies. He just wants me to be happy, no matter how much he is hurting that is all he wants. How can one person be so supportive when they think the decision the other person is making is so wrong…? Something else to work on I suppose… I think I should make a list.

1. Make yourself a whole first before dealing with issues 2-237.
Right...

Anywho, this is where I am. I want to thank everyone for being supportive and putting up with my crap, most of all the Cyclist.

WHEN I AM HEARTBROKEN I DO...

When I am heartbroken there are a number of things I do:

Heartbroken situation 1:
My favourite jersey went into the wash looking like a piece out of Audrey Hepburn’s wardrobe and emerged looking like Lilly Allen had given it a go.

Solution 1:
Plastic. Swiping it, handing it over, basically offering it to the shop assistant in order to replace 1 with many… works every time (until your banker manager find outs!). This solution applies to all items of clothing including shoes that have had the misfortune of either a) your smoking friends, b) your reliable but slightly quirky housekeeper and/or c) your parents pets.

Heartbroken situation 2:
I find out that Butlers only opens at 4pm everyday and that it is impossible to have their pizza for breakfast on a Sunday morning unless you have ordered in advance the night before. I would most definitely have ordered it the night before as my fridge is stocked with liquid consumables only, but would not have had the foresight not to eat the entire thing.

Solution 2:
Cry, there is no other way to deal with this. DO NOT SUBSTITUTE.

Heartbroken situation 3:
Utter and complete heartache

Solution 3:
My usual trick with heart ache is to jump on the first plane to The Big Smoke, buy a box of ciggies and a few bottles of wine and get the wonderful Cousin to fetch me at the airport and transport to a land of fairies and all things good. This usually entails drinking and dancing from when I land on Fridy evening until he so carefully wheels me back into the airport around 7pm on Sunday evening to catch my flight back to reality… However, this time around I am actually going to take the advice of a very special person and do the opposite.

I am going to stay in Cape Town this weekend and spend time with the parentals, the friends that love and care about me and give my new gorgeous pink and silver running shoes a good introduction into their future running career. I’m going to stay in Cape Town because this is where the support is.

(Not to say it is not in The Big Smoke, but the base is bigger and can actually take a lot more of my nonsense at the moment. Thank you Cuzzie!)

YOU NEED TO REMEMBER

Holding on to something
With hope in your heart
But sometimes time can change things
And hoping gets hard

Don't give up, don't give in
Others have been where you've been
And just around the corner there's a smile

You need to remember
That someone cares for you
That summer follows winter
And life can be renewed

You need to remember
That sunshine follows rain
That tears are prayers for laughter
And life can come again
You need to remember

Understanding heartache
It's hard just to trust
But you'll find things will work out
Just believe in His love

And don't give up, don't give in
Others have been where you've been
And just around the corner there's a smile

You need to remember
That someone cares for you
That summer follows winter
And life can be renewed

You need to remember
That sunshine follows rain
That tears are prayers for laughter
And life can come again
You need to remember

LAYOUT CHANGE

Sorry to confuse Peeps, but I had to make a change to give Peas her due... you like, you not like???

Man has it been a ball ache to do this... I think I better learn to become a computer nerd chop chop otherwise I might just go insane! Please say you likey, otherwise back to the drawing board, eish :-)

MY MONEY, OTHER PEOPLE'S HOLIDAYS

Okay, so usually in situations like this I am so super prepared I look like Bree Vandecamp’s year before schedule. This time however, I was completely blindsided and smashed in the face by the one thing I hate most in the world. Tax Season. And not only Tax Season, but the deadline submission date for my tax return so that I can get annihilated once again by a government department that has yet to prove to me it is more efficient than Jeremy Clarkson’s car/boat. Actually, wait a minute, I’m being cruel. SARS is actually the only efficient government body at all and do you know why, because money makes people do things quickly. Taking away people’s money for expensive jets, first class tickets overseas and exorbitant MP’s salaries is an obvious priority in this otherwise wonderful country of ours (barring crime, pollution, traffic jams etc, but that is for another day and post, possibly Pets Hates 2).

So anyway, here I am sitting at my desk on a Thursday morning, hyperventilating to such an extent that the poor secretary thinks I’m giving birth while I diligently log onto the SARS efiling website. Please submit login details and password. No problem. Punch in some number, letters and funny little symbols and wait for my brand spanking completely new and incomplete tax return to pop up... nope…! What does pop up in its place is a lovely little RED warming sign saying incorrect name and/or password. Well, which one is it! Name or password… bugger. So on my respective 2 turns later I change one or the other, oops! I am now completely blocked from the efiling website because of my too creative choice of login details, cannot submit my tax return today as I am banned for 24 hours and will now have to incur penalty fees for being a bloody tax payer in the first place! ;*^%@. Breathing becoming a challenge. Dots everywhere. Floor getting closer at rapid speed… (floor rather dirty and full of breadcrumbs, hmmm, maybe they’ll take me to a wonderful place full of fairies and little people who don’t pay tax…)

This bites...

RUNNING AGAIN

A recent conversation with The Cyclist kick started my running training again.

The Cyclist: When last did you run?
Me: I told you, the doctor put me off running for a while.
The Cyclist: Crazii, why on earth were you at the doctor and why would he have put you off running?
Me: My toenails were not happy and needed a bit of TLC.
The Cyclist: Crazii, that’s the pedicurist and how do your toenails stop you from running?
Me: Well they’re black and fugly looking…
The Cyclist: Again I ask, incapacitating you how?
Me: Okay, so they’re not actually hindering my running, I just don’t want them all to go black, so I took 1 weeks break.
The Cyclist: And when last did you run?
Me: 3 weeks ago.
The Cyclist: Exactly.
Me: Always take what the doctor/pedicurist says and multiply by seven.
The Cyclist: That’s dog years Crazii, not running years.

My first running session did not go well. I had the lung capacity of a 80 year old man with a penchant for Texan cigarettes and Stroh Rum . Not wanting to inflict my somewhat sluggish running style on people with eyes I stuck to the back of the group. After three terrible kms I noticed I was spending more time talking to the retired couple walking their 100year old poodle than doing any actual running. So I braved the middle of the pack and the main road.

There are certain tricks to use when running on a main road. I managed to use all of the below in one run.

1. For motivation, choose a road that has an average of ten cars a minute. The law of averages states that you will know at least one out of those ten cars. The next time you come face to face with the driver of that car, you do not want them to say, ‘Saw you walking the other day’.
2. Should you feel like your lungs have given up and you have a suspicion you’re breathing through your appendix (which is my case is an absolute miracle considering my appendix is sitting in some specimen jar on some laboratory shelf), turn down a side road and hide behind a tree for a couple of minutes. If anyone sees you, look up and start calling an imaginary dog (preferably the old couple’s poodle who you have just met). When the imaginary dog doesn’t come down, shrug your shoulders, sigh loudly and resume running.
3. If you’ve run out of side roads to hide down and your legs are now dragging five meters behind your body, rely on the old faithfuls:

• Stop to reset your ‘frozen’ iPod. If you are not wearing an iPod, tap your watch and sign loudly stating “damn, I think the battery has given up the ghost again”.
• Bend down to tie your loose shoelaces. Feel free to use this time to try our different ways of tying them.
• Stretch your muscles. This could take anything from one to five minutes. If no cars drive past, it doesn’t count. You’re allowed to stretch for at least ten cars.
• Stop to massage that old fake calf injury. Grimace while doing it and you will look hardcore. If you’re already crying from the lack of air feeding into your brain, it looks even better.
• Check your heart rate monitor and then look impressed. You don’t actually have to have a heart rate monitor, strap a compass to your wrist if you have to, just check it and pretend to press buttons while looking extremely chuffed with yourself.

 And if all the above fails, fake a heart attack, wip out your medical aid card and breathlessly call an ambulance for a quick and oxygen induced lift home.

(Thanks Baglett)

TIRED MONDAY

I feel like I have an entire clutch of sumo wrestlers each holding onto an individual eyelash and weighing it down so that it is physically impossible to open my eyelids larger than a fraction… That is how awesome the wedding and weekend was! I will write more when my brain finds it’s power button, my eye’s decide to join the human population and I have once again found my liver and coerced into returning to my body… Until then Peeps, Happy Monday!

MOTHER NATURE - A WEE PISSED OFF???

If feel an inherent need to apologise to The Foreigners for our miserable weather! I’m sorry ladies, but chin up, we’ll be at Borruso’s tonight for delicious food and great company!

Snuggle up warm CT, we’ve got a few days yet of Mother Nature’s wrath!

ALL NIGHTERS, HENS AND MEN'S DANGLY BITS

So after a number of weeks of serious preparation, 30 000 emails a day, numerous trips to PnP, Woolies and Adult World, the day had finally arrived… It was The Bride’s Hen Party Weekend in Hermanus! Woop Woop! The Bridesmaids set out after work together in an attempt to get there the day before in order to prepare everything for the following morning/afternoon/evening festivities. With the greatest intentions, we went out for dinner to the Local down the drag and started what turned into one of the awesomest all nighters ever! There was wine (obviously), lots and lots of silly girl talk and of course, penises. Lots and lots of penises… Now at this stage it’s only the day after the event and I’m still rather over them at the moment, so apologies for not breaking into the song “Big ones, small one’s and some as big as your head!”

Anyway, we talked and laughed, and cut up porn mags, and made 30 “SEXonds” and talk and laughed some more. We drank way too much wine, smoked way too many little cancer sticks and pretty much had a ball. We did however have one crises moment when it was suddenly discovered that there were no more cancer sticks left. Either they had grown little cancer stick people legs and taken off, or we in fact had done away with them ourselves. By the look of the ashtrays, my money was on the latter! So, crisis management Crazii kicked in, car keys were found and the petrol station (200m down the drag) was driven to. Cigarettes were bought, chips thrown in for good measure and a few stray chockies here and there for breakfast. Crises aborted, Hen’s happy… until we realized the time… 10am Saturday morning and we have done sweet frek all about food prep and the rest of the hen’s are arriving in 3 hours!!!

Back in the car and to Spar for numerous Redbulls, some odds and sods and booze.

Checkout Counter Lady: Good Morning, would you like a bag for these?
Crazii: Yes please, bags are gooooood…
Checkout Counter Lady (with strange look on her face): Right, okay, that’ll be R79.27.
Crazii: Okie Dokie, here's my card… hmmm, that’s weird, my card seems to have taken a leaf out of the cancer sticks books and scadaddled… bother!
Checkout Counter Lady: Is there a problem?
Crazii: Yes, my card has divorced me without a word. Note even a note or anything, I’m completely devastated.
Checkout Counter Lady: Lady, you’re holding up the queue, would you mind stepping to the side?
Crazii: My life is over, how could he be so cruel and do this to me. I thought we were best friends. I looked after his needs, made sure I always spent him on the good things in life. Nothing cheap and nasty, only the best for my little plastic Angel… The Traitor!
Checkout Counter Lady: Lady please, you’re causing a scene, please pay for your items or step away from the checkout counter.
Crazii: You’re right, I’m sorry, he’s not worth it… he’s my *choke* debit card (Silent pray, please don’t be declined, please do be declined)
Checkout Counter Lady: Sign here…
Crazii: Thank you Checkout Counter Lady, it’s always nice to know who your friends are in times like these!

Redbulls, some odds and sods and booze in the car and a fairly good idea of where that Traitor had gone, I set off, Redbull in hand and progressive hangover setting in, onwards and upwards back to, yes, you guessed it, The Petrol Station. But before I can get there, I get a call from one of the lovely Bridesmaids asking if I could please buy some paper cups for our delectable punch... Sure, no problem, back to Spar.  Paper cups in hand and at the till point again. Open wallet to find (again) no cash or credit card, bother.

Crazii: Excuse me?
Man standing next to me at till point: Yes?
Crazii: Would you like to buy my paper cups for me?
MSNTMATP: I'm sorry?
Crazii: You see I have no money and my credit card has left me for a cheaper model and these paper cups are the corner stone of our Hen Party!
MSNTMATP: Okay... well sure, how much?
Crazii: R14 and a smile!
MSNTMATP: No problem.
Crazii: Thank You! (Give him a big hug). I love you Hermanus folk!

Back into my little fast car and back to the Petrol Station

Setting Scene: Crazii walks in rather sheepishly to the petrol station hoping not to be noticed as the hangover eyes and Crazii hair have officially set in.

Petrol Station Attendant: YOU! (pointing directly at me, unless her and the confectionary section were on good terms)
Crazii: yes...
Petrol Station Attendant: You! Lady, your credit card had a nap over at our petrol station
Crazii: Well, yes, you see, I sort of… WHAT! That cheating bastard. So who was it, huh! Some little blue Std Bank Floozy… not wait, I bet you it was that little green number from Nedbank… that little skank!
Petrol Station Attendant: Right, okay, well would you like it back?
Crazii: Back! I’m not taking that cheating son of a gun back under my wing… well yes, alright, thanks very much, bye

Order restored and it was back to the house for the festivities! Some tame games while the “oldies were around” before changing into our Hells Angels kit and kicking it up a notch with 30 “SEXonds” and Sexy Charades! With the punch flowing and the feet starting to get itchy we headed out in our boom box taxi to Shimmi to dance into the early hours of the morning!

Thank you Hen's, Bride and Bridesmaids, it was awesome!

WHIPSKEY FESTIVAL

Hello Heaven! Or at least the closest I’ll ever get!

The annual visit to the Whiskey Festival is something The Cyclist and I look forward to with child-like excitement. This year we were so animated about our yearly voyage that we even got a Rikki’s to and from the CTICC in order to fully partake in our annual tradition of being Scottish (and Irish and sometimes American) with 110% enthusiasm! And we were certainly not disappointed!

1 x seriously large monster truck – Jack Daniels Stand, check!
1 x posh looking VIP black box – Johnny Walker Stand – check!
1 x proper Scotsman with sporran and bar rash – Macallum Stand – check!
1 x heaven on earth – Glenfiddich Stand – check!
1 x burn a whole in the wallet – Picardi Rebel Stand – check!

Right, so onto the purpose of the evening at hand, tasting! And taste we did! We also ate a number of strange tasting crackers, stole a few decorate nuts and dried fruits and owe a gratitude of thanks to Mr Jack Daniels for his delicious burgers! And when it was time to leave (boohoo) we even managed to still have 1 whole booklet entact (which considering we had about 50 tastes between us and a booklet only contains 12 vouchers, this was somewhat of a miracle); 3 bottles of Glenfiddich for the price of 2, some Jack Daniels merchandise and our taste buds singing praise to the glorious Scottish!

Slainte! Here's tae ye!

EVERYWHERE TODAY

Birthday’s always re-introduce you to people you haven’t necessarily spoken to in a while. For example, I got a FB message from The Globe Trotter who I haven’t seen or spoken to in ages. We dated for a number of years in high school and then he grew dreadlocks… Anywho, he’s currently living it up in NY (for which I am very jealous) and took a brief breather from his hectic schedule to wish me happy happy. It was great to hear from him and I was only the darkest shade of emerald green you’ve ever seen when I found out about his whereabouts. Nevertheless, I have recomposed myself and am stocked for the birthday wishes. It appears he had a bit of the “spew your guts to the whole world” flu as well and has started his very own blog, check it our here to increase you’re green-eyed monster meter :)

So anyway, while I was finding my way through The Globe Trotter’s blog, I bumped into the coolest little widget ever. Now my attention span when things are really really hectic hectic at the office leaves much to be desired when it comes to concentrating on anything other than work. So while I was paging through some posts the corner of my sneaky little eye got hold of the “People Counter”. It’s just the most awesome little widgety thinging-ma-bob ever! It counts the number of people who read your blob on a daily basis and tells you where they are from, how cool! I have a reader from Norway! Reader from Norway, you are awesome! As are all my readers from everywhere, I love you guys! I am so flushed with pride I could burst!

Shoo, I am like a little kid in a candy store today. I was actually going to dedicate this post to serious matters such a life’s trials and tests and how life is like a YoYo, it has it’s ups and downs (thank you My Cyclist :), but now I’ve just realized is 16:20, I’m going to the Whiskey Festival in 2 hours and I have another reader from Australia… Thank you Aussie reader too! Wow, someone stop me or I might just burst!

Okay Peeps, that’s enough excitement for one day… thank you ALL!

HMMMFT...

I am sad and grumpy... but not to make you all sad and grumpy, I was sent this... This is very funny!

Always remember to appreciate the simple things in life!

Just look at that face, can you put anymore cutness on one animal!!!

MATURED LIKE A GOOD CHEESE

Eventually one will reach a point when one stops lying about ones age and starts bragging about it. Hmmm… I do not think I will ever reach this point. I will forever lie about my age, always adding on (at this point in time, obviously around the 40 mark, I’ll be doing the opposite) at least one year. I am not sure why I do this, it’s like a built in mechanism that kicks in usually after the 6 month age mark. For example, someone asked me the other day how old I was, I said 26. Lie! Obviously my birth certificate and I have a differing opinion on the matter but truth be told I am still 25. I will be 25 for the next 36 hours and only THEN will I be 26. But as far as I am concerned, I was 26 on the day after the 6 months timeline from my 25th birthday. I think it has something to do with the way runners approach distances.

Me: So how far did we run today?
Fellow Runner: Garmin says 28.6kms.
Me: Great, so we ran 30kms, it feels wonderful!
Thunder: So Crazii, how far did you run today?
Me: We ran 30kms, isn't that awesome!

We like to round up; it makes us feels like we've achieved more! And really, who’s going to quibble over a measly 1.4kms anyway… pffft! Anyway, I disgress. Age is something that woman have spent many a sleepless night, age defying moisturizers and countless cosmopolitans talking over and trying to come to terms with. I for one am not afraid of ageing, I’m afraid that I will never be taken seriously and therefore tend to elaborate on my current tenure on this planet. Obviously, when I get MUCH older, people will of course take me seriously and then i'm sure at that point i'll be trying my darndest to be the funny/light-hearted/cool dude without a care in the world... ah, the joys of being female!

Anway, it has been awesome being 25. There were often moments when I actually shouted my CORRECT age from the rooftops. It was an age I had always wanted to be and I must say (excluding all the nasty things that have happened in 2009) being 25 has been great! I’ll be sad to say goodbye , but bring on being 26, a birthday lunch with champers, friends and family and being surrounded by the people that love you and you love in return!

Happy birthday to Me (And Crazii’’s Dad! Happy birthday to you too!)

PET HATES - PART 1

Before I even begin this post, I must give credit to Mabel for the idea and a fair amount of the structure surrounding today’s rant. Her clever large cosmic brain decided to create a virtual list of Pet Hates that could survive the test of time and make explaining to stupid people, why you’re face has screwed up into a bad Picasso painting, relatively simple. Hence the list. My list for today will consist of 10 Pet Hates that I have. This list will, without a doubt, in due course grow large and more elaborate as I can sense my irritability factor increasing exponentially in proportion with my age, my boss and stupid people. But for today, just 10.

1. Sunday drivers on every other day of the week. Seriously, I’m late for work already and now you’re taking a pre-pushing up daisies drive along my already congested work route, move!

2. Those tops that irritating little chicks girls wear that are tight at the bottom and loose elsewhere. Seriously, they make ALL woman look like tents, yes, even Kate Moss! Buy a mirror or acquire some fashion sense! (I know this is harsh and it purely comes from the fact that I can’t wear them… this is a personal reflection of my inability to like tents, tent top wearers, please do not take offence)

3. My Boss. In general, but especially when he blames me for his shoddy memory. Like it’s my job to remind you to remember the simple things like take your drivers licence when you go out driving you fool!, arg!

4. Taxi Drivers… enough said.

5. Pedestrians who think they are the Incredible Hulk. Seriously, I am in a moving piece of metal going 60kms an hour, I promise you I will win!

6. Little kick-me-rat-dogs. These little drain-cloggers always go, mincing along, to have a chat with the biggest dogs in the park. Seriously little mongrel, are you looking in the same mirror as the tent top chicks or the pedestrians… you will loose. That Alsatian could actually just sit down and you’d be but a memory. Wait, what am I saying, go ahead little rat, bark away!

7. Estate Agents. I think they all got a degree in stupidity and BS. Seriously, please do not try and convince me that the house faces north and the afternoon sun casts a warm light on the internal patio when it is blatantly obvious when the lounge looks at the mountain and the internal courtyard is dark and cold, that you are lying! I am not an idiot, unlike you!

8. My personal inability to tell someone when I don’t want to do something or don’t like something. Why am I not brave enough to just say something, fool! Put your big girl panties on Crazii and deal with it!

9. Woman with mascara that looks little caterpillars have started nesting in the eye lashes. Mirrors ladies, refer to point 2.

10. Getting into bed dirty. No matter what time of day it is, I will shower and clean myself before I get into bed. Dirty people in dirty beds freak me out. It just means the next time when you’re actually clean, you’re getting in a bed you dirtied last night! Yuk!

I’m sorry, but I’m having a seriously irritating day. Everything and everyone is getting on my nerves and I feel like I’m being pulled from pillar to post by everyone without an inch to move or breath. I promise I’ll be in a better mood tomorrow, hopefully! If you have the unfortunate chance of bumping into to me today, for your own safety, stay a good 50m away… I bite, hard!

THAT FEELING...

Nothing beats the sensation of falling in love. The continual butterflies doing little fluttery somersaults in your tummy. The silly smile plastered across your face when you think of them. The giggles to yourself when you remember that time when… It’s got to be the best feeling in the world. And what’s better, I get to do it a second time around with the same person. The Cyclist and I are falling in love again and what makes this time round even better is that there are no unexpected surprises, so the nervousness usually accompanied with the head over heals sensation is not there… just the wonderful wonderful fluttery little butterflies!

We were in The Big Smoke this weekend for a very long overdue wedding. The couple is question had known each other for 18 years and been together for 15 of those years. Wow! They were the first to meet of their friendship group and essentially the last couple to tie the knot. It was gorgeous. The groom’s face as she walked down the aisle was unforgettable. She was crying, he was barely keeping it together. It was one of the most romantic weddings I have been to purely because of the nature of the couple. You could see that even after 18 years, those butterflies were there and fluttering away as if they’d just downed a couple of redbulls!

The Cyclist and I sat together smiling and giggling to each other like teenagers. We even took pictures of ourselves smiling and giggling and kissing. It was magic! After spending almost 4 years together and then taking an unexpected and rather emotional 6 month sabbatical from each other (and ourselves I think), we’ve managed to find the best parts of each other again without forgetting the bad stuff, but rather with a better understanding of how to deal with and help each other through.

I’m beginning to be happy again. There are less days filled with tears and more days filled with smiles. I have more of a want to spend time with people rather than huddling under my duvet and sobbing myself to sleep. He reminds me what it feels like to be happy and how wonderful it can be spending time with family and friends making them happy. He smiles at me and his eyes sparkle and I love knowing that that is because of me. He is my Cyclist and I am his Crazii and we are happy.

I love being happy.

WHAT TIME OF YEAR IS IT?

There they were, glaring at me as if I was in the wrong. Me, driving patiently home after a hard days graft and they had the audacity to make me feel uncomfortable. I mean really, you wouldn’t believe it if I told, but not a word of a lie there they were bold as brass staring through the window of Tafelberg Furnishers on Somerset Rd looking as though they were meant to be there all year round! The nerve! What on earth are bloody neon, blinking, electricity power, cheeky plastic Christmas decorations doing in a shop window IN MID OCTOBER!

I was so shocked when I saw them I almost crashed. Not a joke and most certainly very traumatic for the poor learner driver that I almost plowed into while my chin was on the floor and I thought I was in another time zone! Christmas Decoration in October. Has the world gone mad!?! Or maybe it’s just a Cape Town thing. I know we have a tendency to do things slightly differently than the rest of the Continent/World, but seriously… Christmas Decoration in October???

I actually heard a story the other day about a British gentleman who sent notes around to the relevant shops to formally warm them that should they feel the need to elaborately decorate their shop windows with Christmas paraphernalia before the required (and most importantly) appropriate time of year, there would be trouble. They had been warned. They did not listen. So true to his word he went around to all the offending retailers and filled their key holes with glue… Genius! What better way to teach the ragamuffins a lesson than by making them stand outside their own shop windows experiencing the pain and agony they were inflicting on the general public! I think this man deserves an award! Or a least a plane ticket to Cape Town so he can teach our retailers a lesson too!

Having said all of this, I drove home last night along Adderley Street and they were putting up the wire templates for the Adderley Street Christmas lights… SO EXCITED! Does that make me a hypocrite, or just a fan of twinkling pretty lights that make people smile vs. evil plastic Christmas decorations in shop windows that make children cry… hmmmm, tough one?

OH TO BE A BLOND (for a day)

I have officially decided that when I do something wrong, or make a mistake of Michelin man size proportions I am going to blame it on my red hair. Yes, I know this is not an original idea and blonds have been doing it for centuries, but I do actually think they have something here. Think about, for eons they have perpetuated this fantasy that they are actually dumb and can therefore a) get away with making mistakes, b) get away with actually really being dumb and c) essentially have more fun because they can mess up for the fun of it and just shrug and say “blond moment”. I mean, it genius! Brunettes have always been totted as the more sensible hair group as they are essentially the ‘opposite’ of blonds. But us redheads, well we’ve never really be “intellectually grouped” so to speak; other than the ridiculous notion that we are bad tempered. I swear by the false teeth of my great grandmother than when I find that SOAB who first created that notion, I’m gonna… but I digress. I really think we should take a leaf out of the blond brigade’s teachings…

Me: Boss, I made a booboo
Boss: What kind of a booboo Crazii?
Me: An expensive Booboo Boss
Boss: How expensive Crazii?
Crazii: Give or take £200 and a villa in the South of France
Boss: OMG CRAZII, HOW DID THIS HAPPEN???
Me: Well you see Boss, it’s because I’m a redhead!
Boss: Excuse me???
Me: Yes, It’s because I was born with red hair and is therefore something out of my control.
Boss: You’re telling me you lost us £200 and a villa in the South of France because you’re genetic make-up is such that you were born with a recessive gene and therefore are a redhead.
Me: YES BOSS, YOU GOT IT!
Boss: Crazii, you’re fired!

Okay, so there appears to be a slight loophole in my hair colour escape trouble theory, but I will not surrender and will continue on my quest for justice (or just find a hole to hide in very quickly before my boss gets back and has time to read his emails!)

Ciao Peeps, it’s been real!

BRIDES AND BRIDESMAIDS

There are no words to describe the first moment when you see one of your best friends standing, glowing, in her wedding dress. As a bridesmaid I was completely speechless (and we all know how difficult that is to achieve), so I can only imagine how the Mother of the Bride and Bride herself must have been feeling. There we were; us 4 girls and The Mother of The Bride on a glorious Saturday afternoon in Langebaan, sipping champagne and basking in the sunlight of a beautiful summer-filled day talking about the times when we were young and carefree and before we knew it, we were all dressed to the nines standing together as the future bridal party of a wedding less than a month away! Her Wedding. My Best Friends Wedding. In a month’s time. HER WEDDING. OMG!!!

We are going to look like movie stars. Classic, Burlesque style, Gorgeous Goddesses that no camera could do justice to. And I’m not even talking about the Bride! By George she is going to look dazzling And that’s putting it mildly. There are no words to describe how beautiful, graceful and poised she is going to look at that moment when she walks down the aisle. And when she’s floating down that red carpet I’ll be looking to see her fiancé’s face, because I’ll put money on the fact that there will be tears.

I love weddings. There is always something magical about them. As cynical as I appear to be, I am a huge romantic at heart and am never able to get over the feeling of happiness so concentrated you just want to burst! That’s what weddings always feel like to me. A room filled with people, that for a specific amount in time, are all feeling the same thing. Happiness, joy and the confidence that love will actually conquer all.

Cheers to the Beautiful Blond Bride to be… xoxo

WEDDING WEEKEND!

I’m off to spend quality time with The Bride and the other Bridesmaids… We’re off for a wee 'Bridal Party Retreat' for dress fittings, girlie talk, cancer sticks and what can only be described as hours of fun and laugher! Oh, did I forget to mention the champers… tee hee!

IT’S THE WEEEEKKKKEEEENNNDDD BABY!

SWEAT AND SPANDEX

Two of my most hated words as well as individual items. And when you put them together Oh Heavens Above I basically faint! I mean really, who in their right mind would voluntarily put themselves in a position where they have to a) exercise b) wear something that is made out of nylon c) wear something that is usually too tight and brings to mind the concept of marshmallows stuffed into a condom and d) sweat.. for fun! Seriously Peeps, this is not normal. So you must understand my complete and utter shock at my surprise out of body experience I had last night.

As a runner, you become very fit in the cardio vascular area of yourself. This leaves the remaining areas, ie: weight training, stretching, suppleness, core stability a lot to be desired. I can run… that is about it. Put me in front of free weights or anything heavier than a bottle of Haute Cabriere and a Butlers pizza box and I cannot lift it. In my youth I used to be rather bendy and always swore that should the day arrive when I was unable to do the splits I would shoot myself. So it was with great pains and disappointment in myself for not buying the .32 special I saw at the Pawn Shop down the road, that not only could I NOT shoot myself but my brain (left to it’s own devices is a dangerous toy) decided that my body needed to sort it’s self out, chop chop! I fear that my brain and body have yet to make up after their last interesting decision (see I Told You So.)

Cue Bikram Yoga. Yoga, performed in gym gear (ie: the dreaded “s” word), in a relaxed and calm environment where your body and mind can release all negative energy into a communal tranquil space. Plenty of stretching is performed and core stability is paramount. Oh, and did I mention all this is done while voluntarily sitting in a STEAM ROOM! So not only are you wearing the word-that-shall-not-be-said, you are sweating before… yes before… you even start exercising, SERIOUSLY! Who does that???

(The next section of this entry is never to be repeated, I will deny it was ever written, call you crazii and get you committed)

It was AWESOME! Not only could I feel my hamstring re-introducing itself ever so gently to my butt check, but I was sweating. And when I say sweating I mean I looked like a pedophile on a playground I was so drenched. And loving it! My clothes, my hair, everything felt like I had just stepped out from under a waterfall. Even Thunder didn’t neglect to mention that “OMG, look Crazii, you’re sweating, it’s amazing!!!” Yes Peeps, the reality is this a) I was exercising, b) I was sweating, c) all of this was being done in gym gear (yes, I do actually own some, but don’t let that get out) with my free will intact and my brain and body chatting away as if they were best friends!

I’m hooked and will be back again for more on Monday!

THE THREE MUSKETEERS

So I got an email from Pop Tart today, so frikkin excited! She’s tucked away deep in the nether regions of Pleasantville Alabama living the suburban life with her not so Pop Tartish Fiancé  and is chugging through Harry Potter’s faster than we could get through a fish bowl. Crisis, I miss her. Thunder, Pop Tart and I used to paint the town a daringly gorgeous colour of scarlet when we were all living in the same city (as well as continent). We did some crazii stuff, danced the nights away and left without so much as a regret behind us! We also all at that stage of our carefree youth had what one might refer to as ‘dubious tastes in men’.

Yes, our first official boyfriends were most definitely dress rehearsals for the real thing! Cue stage lights dimming, curtains parting and 3 handsome youths standing on stage. Boyfriend 1 belongs to Pop Tart, no dialogue. Boyfriend 2 belongs to Thunder, no dialogue. Boyfriend three belongs to Crazii, no dialogue. Right, well at least they all had something in common… lack of scintillating conversation and lustre! Enough said! Needless to say Pop Tart found her Knight in Shining Armour and followed him across the globe to live in White Picket Fence bliss. Yes, they even have pets.

Thunder on the other hand is still searching for her respective armour clad hero. My journey seems to be going in the right direction and I feel the sensation of spinning around really really fast all the time. It feels like that moment when you’re just about to fall and you catch your breath with a “uh” before you tumble to the ground in a fit of giggles like you have absolutely no troubles in the world! Thunder has butterflies at the moment too due to a certain mystery man and is smiling a smile we’ve missed for a while! So all in all, the three musketeers are at least all smiling at the same time, albeit across time zones and continents :-)

HALF THE DISTANCE, TWICE THE COURAGE

It is very strange in life how things work out. Emotionally very often, things that are within our reach are the hardest to see or grasp. Although we know they are there, there seem to be more obstacles to get across to them than things that we seemingly think are further away. In the same way, physically when we prepare for something we have never done before (ie: running a full marathon), once this is achieved small things such as a half marathon are assumed to be easy. This past weekend has been a very difficult journey for me. It evolved letting go of an immediate happiness in favour of a future greater happiness while at the same time running half the distance but experiencing twice the pain and resistance.

The Chef and I parted ways this weekend in what can only be described as a first for me. I have never broken up with someone before and didn’t really have any idea of how the situation was going to play out. It started on very amusing ground...

Me: Hi Chef, we need to talk.
Chef: What do we need to talk about?
Me: We need to talk about you and me.
Chef: Okay, why don’t you come round in about an hour?
Me: Ok, see you then

Now, as mentioned, I have never broken up with anyone before and therefore cannot take responsibility for what happened next:

Me: *knock knock*
No answer…
Me: *knock knock* again
No answer…
Me (in my head): Maybe he’s making me wait because he knows…
My Phone: *Ring Ring*
Me: Hello Chef
Chef: Hello Crazii, I’m here.
Me: Huh, what do you mean you’re there, I’m here?
Chef: What? I said I’d come to you
Me: No, you said ‘why don’t you come round in about an hour?’
Chef: No, I said 'why don’t I come round in about an hour?'
Me: Oh…
Chef: Oh…
Me: Right, so…
Chef: Why don’t you come back here and we’ll talk
Me: Right, okay!

Seriously, who does that! Who cocks up a break-up talk so badly before you’ve even had it. I called Thunder to explain the situation to her and her words of wisdom sounded a bit like this “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, only you Crazii, only you!”

Needless to say we had the break-up talk and Chef was great. Although rather surprised at the conversation and resistant to the outcome I was going for, he understood the reasoning behind it and didn’t make me feel like a complete idiot and/or cow! I want to thank him for that as well as showing me that sometimes the things you want in life are right in front of you, they just take more courage to reach.

CONFUSION REIGNS SUPREME

5 days without a post, my most humble apologies. This week has been a creative disaster of cataclysmic proportions. I have, in the period of 96 hours managed to go through every range of emotion possible, seemingly settling on buckets of tears for the majority of time. My body seems to be comfortable in that state. I am Crazii’s over-excited tear duct. I am her inability to see through the confusion. I am here to dehydrate her over-worked and tired body and make sure I keep the tree felling tissue making business well and truly in the money stakes!

I am tired.

The Cyclist asked me why no posts, so I explained at this stage just the over-worked unpaid reasoning behind the lack of creative juices. And then he said something wonderful. He said he reads them everyday without fail. Everyday. It made me feel warm and fuzzy inside to know that I had a fan. A real, in the flesh, true life fan who actually wanted to read my crazii ramblings. (Thunder, of course I feel the same way about you!) So, I decided to write a letter to say thank you...

Dear Cyclist,

Thank you does not cover what you thought was a seemingly simple comment on something that means a lot to me. Having someone want to read the mindless ramblings in my muddled head is wonderful and makes me smile. So thank you for making me smile, it happens too few times these days.

It is Friday Peeps, it happily never disappoints and continually comes round once a week. So let’s make the best of it shall we!

HANGING LIKE A BAD PAINTING

Crisis I’m tired. No wait, that’s being too kind to the situation. Although being tired is part of my problem this morning, it pails in comparison to the sumo wrestlers on my eye lids, the jack hammer in my brain and my poor liver screaming it’s little heart out “Why Crazii, Why? And on a Sunday, what were you thinking!”. Now I can answer that question quite simply. I wasn’t! Thinking that is… I was however downing a number of beautiful little heaven in a glass blackcurrant bubbles and sucking oh so joyously on those little cancer sticks in a box.

I’ve decided the cigarette manufactures need to put appropriate warnings on their boxes. I am not pregnant or breastfeeding, therefore I am not concerned about the effect smoking will have on my baby. I am however young (and judging by how I feel this morning, stupid) and would like to know, that should in excess of 2 of these little suckers be consumed in one sitting, coupled with some liquid poison I will, without fail, wake up with the sensation that my mouth feels like the inside of Gandhi’s flip flop! Walking around the office trying to pull your tongue off the roof of your mouth while simultaneously trying to explain to your boss why your hair looks like you had a play date with a plug point and your make-up couldn’t have made an iota of effort in hiding last night remnants is just not a good look. Ever. On anyone. So while I try and make myself more presentable to the general human population, here’s wishing you all a good Monday. I hope it’s better than mine!

THE CRAZIINESS OF SUMMER!

Crisis Peeps, it’s Friday! Thank goodness! It’s only taken 5 days of crazy-mind-numbingly-tiring-work-hogwash to get here! And it’s summer! There is sun, there is wind and there are pasty white people everywhere! I think I even saw at least 3 wife beaters on my way to work today. Yes Peeps, burning to a crisp season is upon us and I intend to embrace it with 110% enthusiasm and sun cream!

My enthusiasm has reached such a fever pitch, that Thunder is even starting to get concerned. I am a winter baby. I love scarves, hats, coats and all things furry. I also only have 2 shades of skin colour, pale and a darker shade of pale. So when “OMG, look, the sun, let’s go to the beach” escapes my mouth, Thunder looks at me with such shock and concern that I’m pretty sure she’s ready to hit me over the head with a baseball bat and transport me to the trauma unit immediately for a frontal lobotomy!

Me: Dude, it’s gonna be hot this whole week, let’s go to the beach on Sat.
Thunder: Who are you and what have you done with Crazii?
Me: What are you talking about, I love the beach.
Thunder: Seriously, who are you and what have you done with her?
Me: What are you talking about?
Thunder: Sweetie, don’t you remember, you hate the beach.
Me: Pfft, NO I DO NOT! Who hates the beach?
Thunder: Crazii, you do!
Me: No Thunder, I don’t hate the beach, I hate sand.
Thunder: *Thwack*

Happy Friday Peeps, it gonna be a great weekend!

LOVE… WHAT KIND?

When someone you love is hurting and you are partly to blame for that hurt, what do you do? When being around them makes them hurt more but all you want to do is take away the pain, what do you do? When you can’t do what they ask you to do to take the pain away, what do you do? When they have made a decision to bare the pain alone, what do you do? How do you make someone you love see that doing it alone is not the best option? How do you make them see that what they are asking of you is not the right thing? How do you tell them you’ll always love them and make them believe you?

Love is a strange thing. Infuriating, wonderful, awe-inspiring and lethal. The Ancient Greeks had 4 different words for love: agape, eros, philia, and storgē.


• Agape: general affection, feeling of being content or holding one in high regard

• Eros: passionate love, with sensual desire and longing

• Philia: friendship, loyalty to friends, family, and community

• Storgē: natural affection, like that felt by parents for offspring

I think there should be more. More to describe situations where there is pain involved or situations where there is joy. Situations where there is surprise or situations where you need to say ‘love’ but differentiated depending on your relationship with that individual. I wish there was a way to describe the changes in love. How situations have caused that change, but by no means diminished it’s power. How you can feel one love for a person one day; and another form of love for that same person another day.

Love is not enough. It is often not enough to see a relationship through it’s ups and down, and the word itself just does not do emotions justice in difficult situations.

Love is a strange thing. Infuriating, wonderful, awe-inspiring and lethal.

UPGRADING IS NOT ALWAYS THE BEST OPTION.

With the total lack of creative inspiration circling my office this morning, I’m afraid today’s post is borrowed from the wonderful Chef. In true guy IT style, he sent through an email which can only be descried as hilarious and ever so perceptive for the male species.

Readers, please enjoy: Installing a Husband

Dear TECH SUPPORT

Last year I upgraded from Boyfriend 5.0 to Husband 1.0 and noticed a distinct slow down in overall system performance, particularly in the flower and jewellery applications, which operated flawlessly under Boyfriend 5.0.

In addition, Husband 1.0 uninstalled many other valuable programs, such as Romance 9.5 and Personal Attention 6.5, and then installed undesirable programs such as Cricket 5.0, AFL 3.0 and Golf Clubs 4.1.
Conversation 8.0 no longer runs, and Housecleaning 2.6 simply crashes the system.

Please note that I have tried running Nagging 5.3 to fix these problems, but to no avail.

What can I do?

Signed,
Desperate.



Dear DESPERATE,

First, keep in mind, Boyfriend 5.0 is an Entertainment Package, while Husband 1.0 is an operating system.

Please enter command: ithoughtyoulovedme.html and try to download Tears 6.2 and do not forget to install the Guilt 3.0 update. If that application works as designed, Husband 1.0 should then automatically run the applications Jewellery 2.0 and Flowers 3.5.

However, remember, overuse of the above application can cause Husband 1.0 to default to Grumpy Silence 2.5, Happy Hour 7.0 or Beer 6.1.

Please note that Beer 6.1 is a very bad program that will download the Snoring Loudly Beta.

Whatever you do, DO NOT under any circumstances install Mother-In-Law 1.0 (it runs a virus in the background that will eventually seize control of all your system resources.) In addition, please do not attempt to reinstall the Boyfriend 5.0 program. These are unsupported applications and will crash Husband 1.0.

In summary, Husband 1.0 is a great program, but it does have limited memory and cannot learn new applications quickly. You might consider buying additional software to improve memory and performance. We recommend Cooking 3.0 and Hot Lingerie 7.7.

Good Luck!
Tech Support

I know, I couldn’t help smiling either! So I sent it onto the wise Grandmother for comment. Here is what she had to say:

Grandmother: Loved this one, funny but very true!!
Me: Then in that case, remind me not to upgrade from Boyfriend 5.0 to Husband 1.0!
Grandmother: Husband 1.0 does have compensations though!! If it is a good system it will last for years, without too much in the way of up grades, and it is a comforting companion that one gets to know very well without too many undesirable programmes....However there will always be cricket, tennis or worse still RUGBY!! Or horrors of horrors...red wine and snoring!!! Husband 1.0 actually leaves Boy friend 0.5 way back in Windows 98.
Me: OMG Gran, you are amazing!

IN THE BEGINNING...

The past couple of weeks have been strange. Not strange in a bad way, just peculiar and maybe slightly out of the ordinary. Daily life has remained fairly the same, it’s just that the element of religion (so well ignored over the past few years) seems to have felt the need to make itself known. Now don’t get me wrong, I do believe in the fact that there is something bigger than us out there, I’m just not sure if it’s an old bearded man (be he in a Catholic Robe, Jewish kippah or Muslim jubba).

I do believe that any form of belief in any religion does give those believers a sense of community in what is often a very chaotic and terrifying world. I appreciate that and am more than happy to sit on the fence in any discussion surrounding the topic, or in fact play (a bad) Devils Advocate to the best of my ability (which is consciously limited lest I get trapped in a conversation with a fervent believer!). My general feeling towards religion is that it is a personal choice and as long as it is not pressed upon me, I’m happy as Larry. I have obvious concerns surrounding the more fervent believers and do think that religion in these kinds of circles causes more trouble in the world than in necessary; however we all have brains to think and mostly I believe that is what we should do.

The reason for these meanderings was initially triggered by The Chef (wonderfully religious in every sense and a joy to be around), re-iterated by The Grandmother (years of knowledge on the subject and forever committed) and finally pushed home by The Cyclist. The Cyclist’s religious beliefs run along the same lines as mine and have never had a hugely significant impact on his life… or so I thought. My mind was recently changed when I saw him with a book depicting the religious journey of a Jewish man. Now the fact that he was carrying a religious book was not what shocked me the most, it was the fact that he was returning said book to it’s original owner after having read it from cover to cover in 2 days! The Cyclist does not read books. Not because he is lazy, but purely because he enjoys the ramblings of magazines and online publications far more. Now I am an avid reader and go through books faster than I can eat a pizza (which is saying something) so I have always been an advocate for the wonderful gems of fiction that can take me away from reality for a long as I care to concentrate. Needless to say, he had finished this book, a religious book, and found it wonderful…

So maybe, just maybe, there might be a place for religion in this crazy world... it did get the Cyclist to read a book after all :-)

I TOLD YOU SO.

Dear Body,

While I appreciate your need to a) punish me for what I put you through yesterday by cutting off all natural endorphins to my now atrophied muscles and b) make me look like the hunchback of Notre Dame doing an Englishman’s version of the sokkie jol; do you think we could possibly call a truce? We are in fact part of the same team and although I understandably sense your current loathing for the part of my body comfortably housed above the neck line, you cannot in all fairness blame the entire situation on her. Yes, she is a brain housed in the head of a redhead, but that is not entirely her fault and therefore cannot be used as punishment against her. You may recall, when the discussion was tabled over a number of months (okay minutes, but who’s keeping track) there was a unanimous vote for Yes! Yes Patella, yes Ankle and yes, even you Hamstring decided that it was a challenge worth taking up. So while I so appreciated all the enthusiasm and gusto that you all managed to perfectly muster yesterday, could we all please get back on the same page and play nice with each other for today and maybe tomorrow… yes?? You see, we couldn’t have actually done it without each other and a pat on the back would be far more sensible than the current mind numbing sensation of having my knees trying so vigorously to disassociate themselves from my body! Any takers???

Oh who am I kidding… It was amazing and worth every single old granny hobble I’ll be doing until the next one! 1 down… and the world is my oyster/arena of blisters, energade and shortened calf muscles!

Thank you to all my wonderful supporters along the route, you guys were amazing and I can honestly say I would not have managed without you!

DR! DR! I THINK SHE NEEDS AN IV OF CHAMPAGNE! STAT!

Two posts in one day. Some would say I’m on a roll; other’s who know me are currently very concerned and think maybe tranquillizers and a straight jacket might be in order. I don’t think they are wrong!

In just under 48 hours (OMG when I put it like that I can barely breathe) I will be undertaking one of the craziest things I have ever done in my whole life, ever. Ever! And I say this as a woman who swims in Camps Bay, wears 12 inch heels on cobbled stones and goes to work with sumo wrestlers chilling on her eyelids. (Can you see where this is going...)

Two months ago it seemed like a fairly reasonable thing to do. I mean lots of people do it, so why can’t I? Word to the wise: DO NOT EVER ASK YOURSELF THAT QUESTION. Firstly, because it is not a question you should ever have to ask yourself. Secondly, if you have to ask it to yourself, it means you’re getting into some serious serious trouble! Trust me I know… I’m about neck deep in that trouble right now!

Spandex pants, a rainproof top, well wore takkies and 42.2kms of tar stretching far beyond this Redhead’s capacity to imagine… lies my Sunday morning! Seriously Peeps, did no-one think to inform me that this was NOT SANE!

Well, wish me luck (or the ability to grow wings, that seems more plausible at this stage) and join me hobbling my way to champagne heaven on Sunday!

WITH A SIDE ORDER OF SALAD

In the true spirit of all things male, The Boys (for another time and post) have jumped on the bandwagon and decided that we Woman cannot have all the fun. And by fun I mean being back-bitingly skeptical about 85% of the male population. So true to form, they have created what they feel swims in the Sea of Endless …………… (fill in appropriate word as necessary. Some suggestions: Heartache, Pain, Irritation… and for the more hardened stomach’s… Lurve).

The Boys take on “There are More Fish in The Sea”:

Ramouray: Good with housework but way too clingy.

Blow Fish: Puff themselves up with lots of make up, expensive clothes and a basic "look at me" attitude. They might stir your curiosity at first but when they run out of breath their true form shows and they fail to maintain your interest. Blow fish can often be seen idling in shopping malls and coffee shops. They generally have little or no personality and their interest only stretches as far as the latest Jimmy Choo's. They are nice to mess with but get tiring after while.

Lion Fish (aka Cougar Fish): These are special specimens. They are a rare breed but if you find them you are in heaven. They are an older breed that have been around the ocean. They know exactly what they want and have no qualms in taking it. If your are lucky to be snagged by one of these , sit back and enjoy. This is one of the few fish that comes with lots of benefits and little effort. But be careful, they can be poisonous if cornered or jealous!

Sea Horse: Ha ha self explanatory. Giddy up!!

Eels: These are some of the more dangerous specimens. They are generally attractive and grab your attention with their skinny, model like exteriors and sleek well-maintained bodies. They make good arm candy and would be great to show off to your friends if they didn't keep slipping out of your grasp. They're sneaky and untrustworthy but provide you with moments of electricity that keep you coming back for more.

Angel Fish: These are daddies little girls. At school they were focused and committed with lots of ambition and plenty of goals. These girls are hard work to say the least and don't respond well to crass jokes or toilet humour. Time consuming is putting it mildly, and because of their daddy complexes, they are barely able to make any decisions without conversing with at least 3 or more fish, namely the Eels and Blowfish.

Thank you Boys for that enlightening experience. Who says boys can't be bitchy too!

Happy Friday Peeps… to quote Gareth Cliff “It’s the WEEEEKKKKEEEEENNND BABY!”

WOULD YOU LIKE CHIPS WITH THAT?

It occurred to me last night that within my current circle of Wonderful Ladies, we have a very varied dynamic when it comes to men and relationships. Whilst we are all fiercely independent woman, we do in some way need and love the attention of the male species. The below adages were actually written a while back to make light of the frequently used phrase “There are more fish in the sea”. I’m not sure what other woman (or men) might think of the descriptions, but I don’t particularly mind as it achieved it's desired result of making one Wonderful Lady smile and forget her men troubles for a while!

In every woman’s quest to find TPM (The Perfect Man) it has been said to us (after tubs of ice-cream, boxes of tissues and piles of glossy mags later) that there are in fact “More Fish in the Sea”. Now my personal feelings towards this phrase cannot in fact be expressed in words for fear of internet indecency and the like; however, when the Giggle Queen (London based pal) shared her feelings with me regarding her most recent male experience I felt an inherent need to 1)make her laugh, and 2)actually analyze what in fact the sea bed has to offer.

So Ladies, please see below our current (albeit slightly jaded) feelings towards the sea-dwelling male population: (thanks Thunder Struck for the added entertainment value)

Sharks: womanizing pricks who are bad in bed because they only care about themselves. Also known as Jocks, Professional Sport Stars, Movie Stars, Men who think they look like movie stars, Men who think they may have been a movie star in a past life etc… They are however always hot, look great on your arm at a function and have the brain capacity of a goldfish on speed. This is good, easy to manipulate if you don’t mind the wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am type of seduction and need a quick fix!

Guppies: spineless whining wastes of space nerds who believe the idea of a date encompasses living vicariously through their avatar playing internet games and gaining more points and powers in the virtual world of cyber space. Their advantages do however included fixing your technological problems, making sure you feel amazing because you are the woman on the pedestal in their eyes, and cooking.
Stingrays: You wanna ride one of these puppies. But only long enough to save your sanity, dignity and possible death by Ben & Jerry’s Cookie Dough. These boys are great. They’re fun, spontaneous and don’t mind PDA’s (Public display’s of affection). They’ve even been known to start the PDA’s themselves. They cuddle, walk on the traffic side of the road and buy you flowers. They do however have a dark side, it hurts like shit and usually comes in the form of a late night sms from “The Other Woman”. Wow, where’s the freezer and that giant spoon when you need it…

Mantarays: Big cuddly teddy bears that would wrap you up in cotton wool if Johnson and Johnson hadn’t put out a restraining order on them. Will love you always (and I mean always), build shrines in your honour and carry your handbag in public without feeling emasculated. They’ll ask you how you like it, where you like it and if you like it the way they’re doing it. Downside: never really take the initiative and have most likely finished all the Ben and Jerry’s in the freezer for when you dump them for Mr Stingray!

Tropical/Exotic Fish: These are the foreign men that reel you in with their exotic accents and their easy going yet stylish look. They play it cool and laid back, they are guaranteed fun and will always show you a good time, dinner and dancing is always on the cards and picking up the tab for it all. This is simply because they have never had such a cheep date before, yet they are constantly reminding you of the exchange rate and just how much cheap you really are. They are great to look at and fun to be around; however beware, they will steal your heart and have the ability to turn into a shark if the situation calls for it.

Penguin: Best mate for life. Will even step out of the herd to save a rolling egg, or hold your handbag in public.

The Dolphin: This is the really cute guy you want to take home to your mother and father. You tell each other everything and have the most fantastic adventures together. The catch: you are his fag hag and he owns more shoes than you and takes you shopping and for a day at the spa when you’re feeling down.

Having said all of this Ladies, let’s not stop trying to find TPM… it can be rather fun sometimes!

THERE IS A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING

I have been threatening to do this for ages. And yes, true to form, it was the usual Crazii Redhead saying things like, “I think I should do this because… etc etc” which went on for ages, chewed many a friends ear off and still managed not to produce anything. So here it is Peeps, my first official blog entry. One of many to come I assure you… sometimes… when I have time… and am not reading other people’s blogs and doing that nasty bit of time-consuming malarkey called work. Don’t get me wrong, I am the poster child for someone who enjoys her job, but lets be honest here, it’s kind of extensive and nobody ever has a 100% enjoyment factor!

Talking about time consuming… I’ve been training for a marathon. I know, I know, crazy talk. But seriously, this running shit takes up time. And not the kind of time you would ordinarily be awake in either. I mean who in their right mind wakes up at 5am in the death of a Cape Town winter to don tight black spandex pants, a long sleeve water proof top (well that’s what the label says but it was obviously tested in a climate THAT DOES NOT RAIN!) and gloves only to vacate their beautifully under floor heated house to sweat!!!??? I ask you! And yes Thunder Struck (my bestest girl friend) I can hear you sniggering at the spandex and sweat comment! I have started to question my own sanity quite severely, but it is just too late to give up now. I’ll be damned if I don’t run this crazy thing on Sunday after putting myself through FOMO hell (fear of missing out). Yes, I’m telling you, the number of awesome parties/events/drunken piss ups I have had to give up for this insane cause are just too many to count and I will not have missed them for nothing!

So Peeps, as this Crazii Redhead heads for the blister filled arena of marathon runners, spare a thought for her lost sanity and please for the sake of all things bubbly, make sure you have a glass of champagne in hand come Sunday, 27th September 2009 at 11:30am!