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.