Sunday, December 13
following key words that land people on my page i collect invaluable info such as when you porn suddenly enjoys a surge in interest and recently, that clone a willy is one of this season's hot christmas items.
this one made me uncomfortable:
nerves make me poo? why is this necessary to google?
Monday, December 7
shock! horror! plums! THEY are making a remake of the crow.
in our ADD culture it seems 15 years is too long for a cult movie to quietly enjoy its status as such.
you'd think the producers would've given it a rest after a string of lame and failed retakes, the last of which was a mere four years ago. let's quickly review these gems:
1994 - the crow. the original
1996 - the crow: city of
2000 - the crow: salvation (yeah, it wished for it)
2005 - the crow: wicked prayer (in which the crow begins to look like chucky)
if there was ever a time to cash in on the dark, brooding hormonal teen thing that's going on with tweelight, true crap and new goon, it's now.
except the crow is, like, way edgier – it's dark, deep, dangerous love WITH A ZOMBIE!! and really, eric draven is like the only shagable zombie in the multiverse.
besides. fuck vampires. they're so last month. these producers are looking ahead. they're forward-thinking sonsabitches ... they're looking ahead to where the next (teen)scream is going to aim its megadecibles at.
you've gotta give them some credit. i just shudder to think who they're going to cast as eric. cos, for really reals now, if those assy retakes taught us anything, it was that THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE ERIC DRAVEN. and that was brandon lee, son of BRUCE LEE for godssakes. AND he died on the set of the movie. you can't get no more street cred than that.
as all the emo kids have been used up in the vamp movies/serials i've given it some thought as to who they could cast as The Draven. And these are my edgier than edgy possibilities.
boy is DARK. he's DARKER THAN DARK. he's practically donnie for crying out loud. all those years as harry have taught dancliffe a thing or four about being broody and thinky and fightful against the powers of evil. and he got naked for equus which was cool cos they could totally put a peen shot in the poster now and get away with it. what the last crow lacked was sex. dancliffe will bring it.
anyway. that's me for monday plums. over and OUT.
Wednesday, December 2
Tuesday, December 1
Monday, November 30
after the post about stupid poople that like to opine about something they're completely ignorant about, i thought this week's pspoftw would be appropriate.
it took a friend of mine 11 years in and 1 year out of an abusive relationship to realise she wasn't to blame for the broken bones.
in lyall watson's dark nature, he has this fabulous quote:
Nemo repente fuit turpissimus - Juvenal (Decimus Junius Juvenal)
Nobody ever became depraved all at once.
It's the same with being abused. It is a slow process of manipulation and emotional blackmail that eventually becomes violence supported by manipulation and emotional blackmail.
anyway. happy monday morning poppits. thanks for all your emails. you be rocking as always.
Wednesday, November 25
I spent the better half of Saturday afternoon on the floor of my bedroom. I’d created a makeshift studio of bedspread and mirrors for a little project I’d been challenged to take on by one of my readers:
Hey dorothy, thought you might like this site: http://gonewild.reddit.com. Take a look, maybe take part. I'm on there...
sadly no comments to laugh by in this column - unless you consider anne S, some weird little poopl that rants and raves and gives her/himself an ulcer on every 24 column.
where i did find a disturbing comment was on sam's column regarding abuse against women and children, 16 days of activism and what men are doing to start the discussion among themselves.
as usual there was the regular BS where readers aren't actually READING as much as they are picking up key words and personalising the issue beyond measure...
the point of concern was THIS comment (there might've been others but i gave up following the convo).
Dear stupid person no.56 700 000
If woman A is pro porn, pro exhibitionism, pro BDSM, pro prostitution and just generally pro sex in general it does not mean she is pro violence. It does not mean she is open to being emotionally abused, beaten, raped or murdered.
But a more interesting fact for you might be that there is no precedent or reason needed for an abuser to abuse or violate. In this case, the woman doesn't have to 'wear a short skirt' or 'act like a slut'. The child doesn't have to be naughty or 'suggestive'.
Victims or survivors are not asking for it. Abusers just like to dish it out anyway.
fuck man. oao plums. this shit pisses me off.
this is from rageagainstthemanchine (thanks lili):
Sexual Assault Prevention Tips Guaranteed to Work!
1. Don’t put drugs in people’s drinks in order to control their behavior.
2. When you see someone walking by themselves, leave them alone!
3. If you pull over to help someone with car problems, remember not to assault them!
4. NEVER open an unlocked door or window uninvited.
5. If you are in an elevator and someone else gets in, DON’T ASSAULT THEM!
6. Remember, people go to laundry to do their laundry, do not attempt to molest someone who is alone in a laundry room.
7. USE THE BUDDY SYSTEM! If you are not able to stop yourself from assaulting people, ask a friend to stay with you while you are in public.
8. Always be honest with people! Don’t pretend to be a caring friend in order to gain the trust of someone you want to assault. Consider telling them you plan to assault them. If you don’t communicate your intentions, the other person may take that as a sign that you do not plan to rape them.
9. Don’t forget: you can’t have sex with someone unless they are awake!
10. Carry a whistle! If you are worried you might assault someone “on accident” you can hand it to the person you are with, so they can blow it if you do.
And, ALWAYS REMEMBER: if you didn’t ask permission and then respect the answer the first time, you are commiting a crime — no matter how “into it” others appear to be.
Monday, November 23
plums. the fob has passed. i honestly don't know what came over me.
i was blogging from an igoogle widget – that's how much i couldn't bring myself to be here.
what happened? i do not know. BUT, hurrah for me my lovelies, i am feeling better.
this is my favourite postsecret this week. i love it because apart from loving song and dance musicals i also love love LOVE christmas carols. they make me happy. especially the nat king cole and bing crosby ones. don't judge me. it's better than having a fetish for poking dead puppies with screwdrivers.
i totally bought into the hollywood christmas. but sort of new york style. like woody allen houses and barbra streisand grandeur with a little bit of billy joel blues for the cool people.
like a norman rockwell painting for the 50s inspired by the 80s sense of romance.
with a touch of enchantment courtesy of the nutcracker imagery and music.
i should leave this alone hey? oh well, here's a parting shot...
Friday, November 20
Thursday, November 19
Friday, November 13
now i've had my little squeal about how tired some writers can be when it comes to sucking a story out of the ether, but. my. fuck.
how easy is it to get the jizz on with a few choice topics that no one in SA seems to get tired of?
it was confirmed again today that to get people to click click click and spout spout spout completely unrelated bile, writers don't have to say anything particularly interesting or in any particularly well-written way.
you just have to pick the right topic.
me: just a little rant. why o WHY WHY WHY is this airhead - who get's paid for her shitty columns on XXXXX - writing this drivel about sex and getting news24 exposure??
cm: that was WAY too short!
me: and way too stupid no? and XXXXX person at least TRY and make it applicable to your 'oeuvre'
cm: yes, extremely coy, too - but still the morons respond anyway - as if it had been a proper column...
me: exactly - which makes me totally feel like it doesn't matter WHAT you write. in fact, next blog post on that...
cm: you may have a point. I wonder how they'd respond if I wrote a column that just said:
There is no God. Go.
Would probably get hundreds of comments
me: WHAHAHA - that's exactly what i mean. all columns could just read:
god is a woman. GO!
homos are better than heteros. GO!
Allah took it up the arse. GO!
Afrikaaners should leave the country. GO!
Black people can't swim (or drive). GO!
women belong in the kitchen. GO! ... oh wait, actually that one might get the least comments as that is the least contested across all cultures in SA.
cm: yup - now if only we could get the editors to do it. Maybe sign up for a user account, do something like that and see what happens...
so. for my next column, i shall simply write: white christian south african men like to take it up the arse (and black people can't drive).
and i'll get a million million comments and hits.
me bitter? never.
oao plums. it's weekend. i'm deflated. when will i be famous? where is my grouse? why do fairies die? AND WILL SOMEONE PLEASE STOP THAT FUCKING BANGING.
it's my blog and i'll rant if i want to.
Tuesday, November 10
About two years ago Miss K was propositioned by a fine German gentleman to be his girlfriend for the duration of his stay in South Africa. I say ‘propositioned’ because he would pay her for the pleasure. She would live in an apartment he rented and drive a car he provided. She would get R25 000 tax-free cash a month to spend as she pleased.
He suggested it over a light snack of oysters and Bollinger on the second date. Read more...
the whole sex worker debacle is just getting so freakin tired. Enough already. Can we just legalise it and move on to more pressing issues? why are we all so concerned with what other people do with their genitals?!
sex workers who are abused, raped and maltreated, sex workers who are underage and coerced into the profession - THOSE are crimes. but the transaction that takes place between two consenting adults? what the fuck is that? nobody else's business is what it is.
i'll share with you the most interesting piece i've read on this whole selling sex issue. it's an article that appeared in the guardian earlier this year and comes from that whore mongering self-proclaimed dandy, sebastian horsley (just bril don't you think?) - the brothel creeper. (pity about the little woody allen lift, but hey...).
horsley claims to have slept with over a thousand hookers and believes that prostitution should remain illegal. here's my favourite bit:
Of course, the general feeling in this country is that the man is somehow exploiting the woman, but I don't believe this. In fact, the prostitute and the client, like the addict and the dealer, is the most successfully exploitative relationship of all. And the most pure. It is free of ulterior motives. There is no squalid power game. The man is not taking and the woman is not giving. The whore fuck is the purest fuck of all.
ha. akso, check out chris mac's take on it in his column, hookers and crookers.
Thursday, November 5
So. thinking some terrible thoughts the other day, it occurred to me that if there were a sookie (sookeh is mah human) around, i'd be fucked. (Yes. I have started watching True Blood. And weirdly, apart from Lafayette, I'm just not that into it.)
and then i thought, just as well no one can hear what we think but if they could would be more careful about what we let moosh about in the grey?
the christians did that whole what would jesus do (WWJD) wristband thing in the 1990s, but i figure, as the rest of us only have TV, social networking and advertising to tell us whether we're being good or bad, a new icon of conscience should be born, and as true blood and vampires are now all the rage, we could have What Would Sookie Hear WWSH (TM) wristbands to help us micro-micromanage our bad thoughts.
it's sort of like 1984 but for the post-MTV generation - more sparkly and less intimidating and kind of sexy, but still very, very creepy.
Wednesday, November 4
There are three things that should never be considered fair game when one is drunk. The first is your body, the second is every number on your mobile phone and the third is column space. Messing with any of these three things will give you a belly ache. Read more...
So, this is what came from that vom fest of a friday that i blogged about a few weeks ago.
I know know know the whole sex/food thing can be cool in some weird way, but seriously, EVERY time i think of it i just think skat and feeder fetish. and then i'm just too grossed out for words.
and then you get reader shit like this:
i love to eat nandos sauce during Cunnilingus ,it spice thing up
Monday, November 2
it's all so tragic sometimes. i don't like sad endings. but sometimes i think i feel like that's all i ever think is going to happen. or something like that.
but i don't really though.
just sometimes i think the thought sits deep in my brain, hiding like a nasty little troll just waiting to scramble out at the best of times and make a poop of everything.
i blame it on one particular thing adults love telling children to warn them about the harsh 'reality' that life is a living hell of fear and regret.
fuckit. i so hate that phrase. all 'bad' things 'come to an end' also. so why pick on the good things? if you ever say this shit to children you should stab yourself in the neck with a blunt object. if you ever say this shit to yourself you should OD on some arb OTC drugs.
Wednesday, October 28
Erzsébet Báthory, by the by, was a serial killer.
Maybe this is like The Ring. But instead of watching an old video and being hunted by a freaky ghost with a bad haircut, the spirit of Erzsébet will weave its way into your brain through this weird little non-ditty and kill you with boredom or a splitting headache or both.
or maybe it's just a bunch of weird little poopl running around in capes being dark. and evil. dark and evil.
thanks chris mac. now i remember why we're friends.
Monday, October 26
she was hardcore in the way that only people who've lived through two world wars can be. she didn't take shit and didn't mollycoddle. not until recently at least.
some of my characteristics that i am most happy with are from her. she taught me how to be strong when i didn't want to be. she taught me how to grow things and do needlework. she taught me how to laugh at silly things. she showed me the value of one's hands. she made the best curried fish and apple tart and christmas pies in the world.
i love her and appreciated her existence in this world in a way that is very difficult for me to express.
i am deeply deeply saddened that she is no longer here. that her smell of face powder and hairspray will fade. that our very small family is now even smaller.
Thursday, October 22
The Anti-Homosexuality Bill 2009 has been passed in uganda and states that anyone who commits the offence of homosexuality will be liable to life imprisonment. Read more about it here.
totally makes sense. because if what you do with your willy is a concern of the great almighty god, it's definitely a matter of government importance.
SA GLAAD is trying to create awareness about it. Check them out here.
Tuesday, October 20
it's not a debate.
here, everyone is too politically correct to be otherwise or to say something contrary. so they all just agree in different words. it's enough to make me appreciate fred khumalo.
maybe it's because everyone knows that the SA audience is just so fucking lame it still gets a rise out of reading and commenting on the same bs over and over again.
this week's theme includes the rietz trials, and an amusing if not totally yawnsome wank job over which city is better - cape town or durban. of the latter, the best post came from david j smith. a piece of writing you'll only really get if you've actually been to durban and have spoken to a local.
i'll keep you posted about what else the online media clique tries to outdo eachother on in the next few weeks.
Monday, October 19
turns out they have a claim on a shipment of crayfish that could feed africa for about a decade. so to celebrate they called over the media peeps and stuffed us with salmon and foam canapes and oysters and crayfish and champagne.
it seemed the ideal opportunity for me to sate my curiousity with regards to crayfish. you see, i've been vegetarian for 12 years now and bar a flirtation with calamari and mussels over a year ago and a taster of yellowtail and tuna this year i've not had anything with a face or anus pass my lips the entire time.
(i think at least. i did a few years in asia, and god knows what you're eating there. but hey, ignorance and bliss and all that.)
i was having a fine old time. the food was flowing, the wine was plenty, the waiters were almost as drunk as we were. I met the lovely catherine shone, editor of food24, (horses don't like her, but that's a story for another day) and some peeps from top billing magazine (no judgies.) and then a lovely lady from elle decoration who reminds me so much of Anna Levine i want to hug her.
but you see, readers, my dear plums, there is something not ok with eating that much shellfish in one sitting. this something not ok looks like this:
lots of booze (see the foreshadowing here? see it? huh? huh?)
one good thing did arise from the vom fest that was my evening, and that was the idea for my next column...
oh. wait. that doesn't sound right does it?
nevermind. it'll be fun. promise.
(hey sparks: don't get your hopes up - it's not about vomit and sex - that's for another time.)
Sunday, October 18
Friday, October 16
Wednesday, October 14
i love being prayed for. hey, it's a shitty job, but someone's got to do it. i'm happy that 'Appalled from Overseas' gets to do that job for me. Keep up the good work.
nurse: so how many partners have you been with since october last year?
nurse: for the year? how many new partners have you been with?
me: umm... well... let me see... (shuffling around in bag) i wrote them all down the other day so that i could remember their names... ummm
so all came up daisies. this is good. no matter how positive a spin everyone would like to put on being HIV positive i'd much rather i didn't get it. you know. like genital warts. or herpes. which, if my gynae is to be believed cape town is riddled with.
if you would like to go for your HIV/Aids test (they do couples testing as well) i totally recommend the New Start centres. the counsellors are amazing, the nurses efficient, helpful and reassuring and the whole schpeel lasts 45 minutes for which you pay 25 ZAR rond (about $3) and you can go back for as many times as you like for four months without paying another brass farthing. or cent even.
go. be brave.
Tuesday, October 13
When a significant new boy comes on to the scene, it's imperative that you ask yourself a few pertinent questions.
Is he lovely? Is he kind? Does he have a penis you could live with for the rest of your life?
The last is important, see, because I don't pick out crockery for a future with a small penis. I have found that a diminutive member is riddled with issues and the harbinger of dismal sex. In addition, it’s simply dangerous. Read more...
Friday, October 9
this is pretty much how my friday ends. like a hard, uncomfortable piece of shit. not because the day is inherently shit mind. but because i'm forced to deal with people that, in the social sphere of human dynamics, operate like little pieces of shit - making a big stink because they can't do anything else but lie around and get under everyone's feet.
fortunately. this does remind me of something that brings a big old smile to be face:
yes. it is a turd. a dog turd, to be specific. covered in snow and looking disturbingly cute.
only the koreans.
doggy poo (the movie) is a 30-minute rush of cinematic daring; a heady mix of cute and weird; a wild cocktail of mind-numbing boredom and jaw-dropping aghastness (if that is not a word a should be).
here's the write up:
After being "created" by a dog, Doggy (Peter Farrow) meets various living and inanimate things. No one wants to be his friend, and Doggy Poo becomes sad because he believes he is worthless and has no purpose. Eventually, a plant grows out of the ground and tells Doggy Poo that she needs him to grow into a flower. Doggy Poo discovers his life purpose and he becomes absorbed by the flower. After being absorbed by the flower, Doggy Poo lives "a happy life".
let's just read that over again: doggy poo discovers his life's purpose.
hm. maybe i should get some of the people i'm dealing with to watch this. do you think they'll get the message?
I AM THE FLOWER AND YOU ARE THE POO.
i'm sorry. does that sound egotistical? does it sound mean and belittling? good. it's meant to.
anyway, here's a preview in case you wanted to enthrall yourself with the existential crisis of a shit.
only in korea.
Tuesday, October 6
clarence and alabama. totally rocking. up there with peanut (lula) and sailor.
alabama's "you're so cool" line in her last speech in true romance has always sort of been my little measure of whether i want to play with someone.
i'm starting to think that it's also the only thing that matters if you want to make them a part of your life.
[ TRUE ROMANCE: Alabama Narrating ]
Amid the chaos of that day, when all I could hear was the thunder of gunshots and all I could smell was the violence in the air, I look back and am amazed that my thoughts were so clear and true...that three words went through my mind endlessly, repeating themselves like a broken record.
"You're so cool. You're so cool. You're so cool."
Monday, October 5
ah. i could go into why i find this postsecret postcard amusing, but i won't cos the ex story this reminds me of just isn't worth the time it would take to type it out. needless to say, it's amusing.
happy monday morning poppits!
Friday, October 2
new boy wants exclusivity. it is worrying somewhat. i've been single for so long i'm not entirely sure how NOT to be anymore. agreeing to date exclusively feels like a commitment of magnificent proportions.
he might as well have asked for my hand in marraige. and children. and a house in the country with a dog and 2 children and a bond and life insurance and nights infront of the tv with a libido that's been shot to shit by too much carte blanche and sundays with the folks and early bedtimes and sex only in the bed...
i was expressing this worry while making tea for blood cookies this morning. jade was like, dude, he just asked you to be his girlfriend. you could break up with him in a week. it's not your soul.
but what if it turns out that i don't want to break up with him in a week? and then we become a 'we' when we're invited out. and the then i misplace my sense of self somewhere between his life and my life and then there's marraige. and children. and a house in the country with a dog and 2 children and a bond and life insurance and nights infront of the tv with a libido that's been shot to shit by too much carte blanche and sundays with the folks and early bedtimes and sex only in the bed...
so why am i so freaked out by it? i do like him. a lot. so much so that might have to find a more suitable reference than 'new boy' soon.
met labushka for drinks on wednesday at the meat market on derry (which really should become something like, 'place where broken drunk divorced men hang out') and came to the conclusion that there's always one big problem with exclusivity: whether you mean to or not, when you start contemplating the idea, there's always that one question floating around in the back of your head - will that penis be it for the rest of my life and will it be enough?
hence the new column: size does matter. whoohoo, can't wait.
Wednesday, September 30
Insert cool intro here because young, stupid interns can't get their shit together, don't know fuck-all about fuck all and should all be shot in the face...In the wise words of Neil Sedaka, breaking up is hard to do. There are hearts to tend to, bruised egos to soothe and livers to abuse with copious amounts of pity party drinking. There are photos to burn and revenges to plot (incidentally, did you know that in Hong Kong a wife may legally murder her cheating husband as long as she does it by her own hand? Just a by-the-by…), but the most awkward and unsettling matter is that of returning personal items. Especially if it’s your sex toy goodie box you have to consider. Read on...
not such a happy camper my poppits. not such a happy camper at all. but enough of the moan. onward and forward with this week's column.
here are some links that go into some of the sweet toys i mention and some i don't:
clone-a-willy. nuff said.
the tenga flip hole. penis envy courtesy of japan
the fleshlight. yuck in a can.
the delight. my preciousssss
over and out plums. i'll blog more once this spate of deadlines is over. keep cookin' with gas.
Tuesday, September 22
Now it takes a LOT for me to start on a series. the reason i try to stay away from them is because i generally become ADDICTED.
the last time i watched a series was a millennium ago when 24 first came out on DVD. we sat watching episode after episode, up to our eyeballs in caffienne and pumped with adrenalin.
i think i only recovered from that like the other day or something.
so now my FRIEND, wants to peddle me her drug of choice so that i can spend another month of my life holed up at home, spurning the sun and fun and the people that love me so that i can get my fix off my 10 cm x 10 cm tv screen.
i'd be totally up for it.
except that i've just been introduced to battlestar galactica! a programme where humans run around and fuck a lot. but in SPACE.
totally trumps the vamps on EARTH. yawn. (sorry Bushka, you know i want to try your gear also...)
WHOHOOO! The new boy introduced it to me this weekend. and i'm smitten... it gave me everything i could want in a good series - wonder and awe, cries and freak out... so like this:
though i'm considering just watching an episode at the new boy's house every time i go over. not that i'd be using him for his big screen or anything. not like that freak postcard about True Blood at all.
using people for their tv and