Flu: It finally found me

Crap. It's finally found me. I feel like dog balls.

When I get flu, I get it bad... and I get it quickly. In one day, like today, my nose is red, I'm tired as hell, I have phlegm, my muscles ache, I am weak - I have flu. Full blown flu. I'm surrounded by millions of white tissues, it's a germ barrier to 'subconsciously' tell everyone to fuck off.... "don't be invading my space. Stay away." I'm a vessel for a viral infection. "If you irritate me, I'll cough in your face!"

I can't even type properly. With my brain not functioning properly, I can barely spell. hsdgfidhgfhifhdihfdfdfhbdfkn mvfkmfpogiiuieiurytr86reru90reojdiodjier39i09ri49uruhrhg kjfuigfdiufgdyfgydfgdfyugdhfbkewru984ry498y084u89u]t498t. You have no idea how many times have had to edit this bloody post in order for it to make some sense.

I need bed. And bad.

I'm the man in the picture. I feel so sick that yes, I've transformed into him.

I've been taking vitamins and vitamin shots constantly, but still - the flu still manages to find me.

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skjfgdfinoru498y72e0.

Tonight - it's tomato soup and early bed. I was going to work but no ways! No cleaning, no painting, no working - just beddy-byes.

OK, so I've pumped my body with ClorenzaC and vitamin drinks - lets hope for the best.

I'm entering Survivor!

When most people enter Survivor - they're fit, a nature-enthusiast and they have the appropriate qualities that make them the perfect survivor candidate. When considering the perfect candidate, I'm probably on the bottom of the list - rock bottom.

But it's these imperfect qualities that make me the perfect survivor! You see, survivor is actually not about how a boer can maak a vuur, or how someone can catch 10 fishes in one go, or how one wins all the challenges - it's about the cranky ones that sit in the corner, complain and become the hated ones in the group. Now, my intention is not to be the hated one - but I'll most certainly be the loud-mouthed, extroverted, lazy, fun-filled one, that gets on everyone's tits.

Yup - I'll make for great tv!

Minus nivea cream, cigarettes, food = Cranky bitch.

Remember now that not only do I have OCD when it comes to dry hands, but if I am hungry or craving a smoke - I get ratty. If I have to do any other exercise, besides walking to the fridge and back, I complain and start pretending that I am having an asma attack. (I did that in primary school when we we having a school competition against another school, and I was coming last) So why the hell would I want to put myself in this situation then? Put simply - I want to test myself. I want to see how far I can push myself.

Not only will there be no cigs, or nivea, or food, or my family/boyfriend for that matter - but I'll be faced with another problem!

I hate salad - or should I say rabbit food. Anthing that tastes of nothing, or that is healthy, makes me yak. Although I am a great lover of vegetables, I hate fruit. The only fruit I can manage is apples, banana's, and oranges - but it's not like there is a multitude of these fruits on the island. You're basically stuck with coconuts, weird-ass berries, and some other fruits I have never heard of. So, yes I am pretty much screwed in this area. I'm also not a great lover of fish - although Salmon is yummy. "Yes, I'll have one salmon with hollandaise sauce please, with a chocolate milkshake." That should be easy enough to order on an island that is miles away from anything, isn't it?

I also hate the sun. I am not one of the chickies who sit in the sun for hours, burning themselves. I'll lie in the sun for 5 minutes and start to feel claustrophobic. And on the odd occasion that I fall a sleep in the sun, I wake up in pain with the site of my fucken red legs. Then I peel. I don't tan - I fucken burn. But you know what, I also never ever ever ever ever get into a costume. I hate when fat people walk around in bikinis, with their fat rolls hanging everywhere. Now, I am not huge but I know that I can't wear a bikini. So I'll be the one in the corner, wearing a snow man's outfit (covered head to toe), sweating in the scorching sun.

Then there's bugs. Yuck! I have the paranoia of bugs flying in my ears or vagina, laying eggs. Best be sleeping in the trees then hey. Oh, but that reminds me that there are no beds there. Shit, I thought I would be staying a luxury hotel on survivor - damn. Then there's the issue of razor blades. My bodily hair grows like weeds. So I''ll be the 'red' one complaining about my hunger pains, cigs cravings, whilst waving my arms around, revealing my hairy armpits and exposing my pubic hair that has made its way out of my panties. Wow, that sounds damn attractive.

OK - so this all looks very promising... Yup, I am going to win this. I may not be great at the man-work nature stuff, but hey - I'll make for fab TV.

I'll apply in September.

PS: Those are pictures of me. Don't I look so survivor-like. If only I had a gun on survivor to kill the fish, instead of standing for hours trying to catch them with a spear. But actually, I won't be doing that, the men will. And I'll just lie back, sipping on dirty water (cocktail 'ala-poo), watching them slave away.

Yes, this will definately be interesting!

Can you see I'm in pain?

So I went to the dentist today. My worst nightmare.

I first had the 'pleasure' of going to the oral hygienist and then to the dentist.

I experienced an oral hygienist about a year ago. The lady was terrible. When upon booking the appointment this time round, I made damn sure I didn't book with the same lady. But sure enough and just my luck, I was shown to the same women. Oh shit I thought.

Now, anyone in the 'helping' industry like doctors, gyny's and dentists, should not only have the skill to do a good job, but they should have tact and human interaction capabilities. Even if it is just a level up from apes.

This women, and I shit you not, had no tact. Not only did she handle my head like a soccer ball but she shoved my head left and right with such force. Yes, I understand that plague does require some force in order to remove it, but come on, I could feel my teeth cracking.

Now, I have very sensitive teeth. Chocolate makes them pain, I can't brush my teeth with cold water and any tapping or scrapping makes them ache. But this was ignored by this 'lady'. I lay in the chair, in such agony, with my limbs moving at the touch of every nerve. Could she not see I was in pain? No.

Then my mouth was engulfed with a bucket of water and I couched it up, half choking, when she touched a nerve. Then I had the spraying water thingy-my-bob spraying water all over my face. This was a cleaning teeth appointment, not a fucking facial. I had water dripping down my neck at rapid speeds. This was truly awful.

She then touched on a very delicate nerve, which in turn made me ball into tears. The whole experience was just whelming up in my eyes. She then brushed it off, with no tact or comfort. There were no emotions.

She was not nice to me, nor did she display any comforting emotions, nor did she care. People in this profession need to interact with their patients in a comforting way. When you see your patient in pain, fuck'en do something about it. And especially, with a patient like me who is paranoid, stressed out and anxious at the thought of going to the dentist.

Needless to say, after my encounter with the devil dentist - I am all fixed up and no longer have the dreaded 'hole in one' looming.

Thank fuck that's over!

Living in my lounge - The before steps before moving house

So, this weekend was a great success.

I needed a cleaning miracle, and I got one. I was hit, well my flat was in fact hit, with the cleaning wand.

The bathroom is tiled and looks fabulous. The weed plantation growing in the front entrance of my house has now turned into a neat and tidy entrance, covered by aesthetically pleasing wood bark chips.

I couldn't sleep on Friday night - the nervousness of waiting to see how my carpets would turn out, after the cleaning guys came around, was on my mind. But hey, it worked. My carpets are as crisp and clean as ever, and there is no longer a smell of stench in the flat. I live in a now, germ-free; ecoli-free flat. From paranoia of the carpets getting dirty, I have covered the entire carpet with sheets and have blocked off the staircase so that my dogs cannot get up stairs.

I am officially living in the lounge. But weirdly, it's great.

I can eat dinner in bed, watch TV until I fall asleep - and it's cosy.

I still have quite a bit to do with the fixing up of the flat, before the property agents come on Saturday, but its nice to know that I am half way there. So bring on the paint tonight!

I'm looking forward to moving. I can finally write a blog about moving, about having a change in my life. I am scared, nervous, excited, happy. Whether or not it is the best move or the right or wrong thing to do, I don't know. All I know is that I need a change in my life. I am becoming stagnate.

The universe rewards decisions made and changes done. I know this change will bring me new opportunities. After living in the same place for 5 years, its time for something new. The world will bring me, what the world will bring me now. No need for over thinking - it's just a case of doing.

I'M MOVING!!!

I'M MOVING!!!

I'M MOVING!!!

It's finally here.

I'll be sure to update my blog on the moving process.

A lil' bit of elbow grease

It's going to be a busy weekend. Extremely busy.

I'm feeling nervous, anxious, stressed out.

I have a tiler coming tomorrow, together with a cleaner and a carpet cleaning service. Combine that, with painting and gardening - and you have a full blown cleaning expedition.

I started to paint my room white, trying to clean the poo-colour brown off the wall. I did this at night, listening to the sound track of Coyoti Ugly - I know, I know. I also have to paint the bottom floor, one-toilet, room blue - to cover the primer that has been sitting there for a few years (...after my sister and her friends did a make over to the place, but never seemed to finish). Then there's tiling in the bathroom and a new door that needs to be fitted. (The door had to be taken off when Chris got locked in the bathroom with the key breaking inside the lock, and I had to break through it will a hammer.)

Then there's the gardening. Our front entrance garden has turned into a weed field, since our neighbours persisted that we cut down the tree. The tree went, then the weeds grew. The outside garden also needs a fix up. We have the unfortunate pleasure of having the shit clay soil, prohibiting any form of plant life to be sustained. It's fill of dog shit, dead herbs - the cooking ones - and a few tiles.

The kitchen needs a paint too. All the splatters from the stove have flown onto the white primed tiles, to make it looked speckled - its quite gross.

Then we get onto the mother of all fix ups.

The dreaded carpet.

My sister chose a cream colour carpet, and no, I had no say in the matter. It was a stupid decision because now our carpet looks like someone smeared their ass on it. Cream - blink - brown. Being a high traffic zone, and having dogs, this was not the optimal chose of flooring. I protested that the flooring being tile - but that was flatly ignored. Now I'm sitting with the fucked up - and yes its fucked - carpet. So the cleaning carpet guys are coming tomorrow. I have no hope that they'll be able to restore the carpets to their former glory. But it's better than nothing. It's worth a try. I'm just severely embarrassed, it makes me cringe. It's like when I go to the dentist or gyny. I don't want anyone to see my vagina, or mouth, or carpet for that matter.

So it's going to be a non-stop weekend, full of elbow grease.

I best be getting some wine and nice tracks on the sound system, to help me through.

I need a cleaning miracle.

Highway tolls - Am I shitting money?

Okay ... so does it look like I am shitting money? Not only are we, as South African citizens, already forking out money to pay for tax levies, pikitup services and TV licenses - but now we need to suck money out of thin air to pay for highway tolls.

I've just seen the rates. *Gulp*

I'm taking back roads from now on. This is extortion.

Let me give you a rough idea, if you do not know by now:

Johannesburg CBD to Pretoria CBD - R1020.00 estimated cost per working month
Glenvista to Woodmead - R676.00 estimated cost per working month
Randburg to Sunninghill - R566.00 estimated cost per working month

This is only some of the overly hiked prices.

That's it - I am going on strike!

How do they expect highway drivers to pay this, on top of all their costs. We pay for petrol, is that not enough?

I was driving on the road when I saw on of these tolls and said to Chris "What's that?" Well, now I know. They'll click my license plate every time I go on the highway or pass a toll booth, and I'll receive a hefty bill at the end of every month.

In fact, maybe I should just ride to work on a bicycle or walk. But wait, maybe they'll soon start charging you for riding bicycles, or even walking on the pavement. This is to be expected.

I'm actually shocked at these rates and this procedure - this is out right ridiculous. Soon I might not be able to blog anymore because I had to sell my laptop to pay for the highway toll charges.

*Yikes*

A new found respect for soccer

With newspapers, blogs, websites, television and other mediums covering this event in full swing, I thought it was only appropriate for me to do the same.

Yes, the World Cup is over, unfortunately so, but I am sure it is still in the minds of many tourists and South Africans.

Sad to say, I was unable to go to any of the stadiums to watch the games as I had no money to fork out. But I was hooked to the television.

Before the World Cup, honestly, I was not all that excited but on one particular day, upon driving to an exhibition, people were hooting, blowing their vuvuzela's and employees were standing out side of their offices. It was the day that Bafana Bafana were doing their tour around Sandton. This day brought the energy for me, and so my excitement began.

I was, of course, supporting our team - Bafana Bafana. I had a psychic prediction that Uruguay would take the cup or come close to it, and then.... there.... was..... Germany.

Chris, my boyfriend, was a massive supporter of Germany. He was their biggest fan. I was not supporting Germany at first, considering that there flag looked like the "devils flag." But once Bafana was kicked out the tournament, they became my no.1 team. You see, I wanted Uruguay to win so that I could finally know myself as a psychic, but I was in no way supporting those pansies.

By midway of the World Cup- I was "GO GERMANY" - "VIVA THE GERMANS"




Mr Mesut Özil, Mr boggle eyes - you became my favourite. I had quite a few favourite players. Mr Siphwe Tshabala, who also played the No. 8 position, the same as Ozil, was the No.1 player in Bafana Bafana, with the goalie, Khune, coming a close second. In the German team, Boateng (known by myself as BOOOOOOOOOOOOTANG) and Klose, you were also tops on my list. Chris would say to me "Oh, you like him", "you think he's hot". Sure, the guys were attractive, but they were good/skilled players. I'm sure that men were watching for the game and women were watching for the players. (wink wink) But as for me, I watched for the teams, skills and the game - the attractive players were just a bonus. (But no one is as beautiful as Chis). I miss watching the Germans, and Ozil, already...




So although I didn't watch at the stadiums, I contributed to the World Cup in my own little ways:

* My blackberry became the commentator - posting comments about the games.
* I bought myself a South African flag, which fell off the next day
* I bought Chris a funnel vuvuzela, a Germany scarf, a Germany flag and the FIFA Xbox game
* I interviewed most of the architects on the stadiums and wrote articles on them
* My TV was continually tuned to the soccer channel
* My car hooter was used a noise vessel constantly, joining in with the vibe and SA energy

Things that I learnt from the World Cup:

*Soccer is a better game than rugby (no offense to rugby players)
*The number 8 position on the field is the best
* GO GERMANY - Even though they didn't win, they were the favourites!

So overall, a big congratulations to SA for putting on a great World Cup. I was lucky to say that I was there.

Bundesliga and the UEFA Cup - I'll be watching. GO GERMANY!

Hole in One

Okay - so I'd admit, this is not the most pleasurable picture to place on my blog ... actually it's making me a bit nauseous. But it's the perfect picture to serve my point.

It's funny how 'if it's not one thing, it's another.' With money, in the event that ones obtains more money than expected, it is always the case that something comes up. Either, the washing machine breaks and needs to be fixed, or you receive an unexpected bill or you have to go for a medical emergency - like the dentist.

This is my scenario. I need to go to the dentist, and pronto!

As in the picture, there's a hole in the front tooth. I'd like to call it, a hole in one. I am on the verge of getting a hole in one - not to the extent of the picture, but it still feels like it's the end of the world.

So, I've booked an appointment with the oral hygienist and dentist in a weeks time. But, yet again I have to fork out money out of my ass - it's actually quite unfair how the world works sometimes.

But for those who don't me, I have three fears in life:

One - Being alone
Two - The dentist
Three - The gynacaologist

Anything where I have to spread my legs or open my mouth in front of strangers, terrifies the living shit out of me. But, hey, I remember that I have anxiety pills. You should see me when I walk in the room. On my first visit to the gyny I said "Please don't judge me" and "Do you see ugly vagina's?" When in the dentist room, I pass up and done, in hysterics, telling the dentist to not judge me.

And now, the dentist - who I might add was my favourite (it takes a long time for me to find someone who I am comfortable with) - has LEFT my dentist rooms. Now what the fuck am I going to do? I am devastated.

Well, we'll just have to wait until the 22 July and hope and pray that my front tooth doesn't form a hole in the interim - or else I'll walk around with the new nickname of 'hole in one' - something I dread. I swear to you, I wouldn't even step outside of my room if I have a whole in my front tooth - full stop.

Other than that - I'm not in the work mood today. I'm too concerned about my teeth. I seem to be in a negative space too.

I watched '17 again' last night, where the man transforms back into his 17 year body. He wants to see how his life would have been if he had made different decisions. Imagine that. What would you do differently in your life? How would your life be now if you had taken a different path or made different choices? Watching those movies make me thing of things like that, not that I, for one second, regret the path and choices I choose. But it's an interesting thought nevertheless...

Oh and I might add that I have exciting news. But that will be told in another blog. I'll finally have a blog that says something like 'I'm moving to Bangkok' - as in the previous blog I wrote that I had no exciting news. But the good news is finally here!

PS: I can't stop fiddling with this damn tooth, it's like my tongue is magnetized to the tooth. Argg ...I'm making it worse!

PPS: The picture above is NOT of my teeth!

Technologically F**ked

I got my phone bill this morning. Yikes!!!!

I'm technologically f**ked.

Okay - so I didn't expect it to be that much, but at least I over budgeted to allow for excess billing.

Not only do I have (and need) a budget for my groceries, monthly bills etc, but now I need one for my phone.

I need a phone diary.

"Dear diary.... how many calls did you make today?"

No. Seriously. I need to document every single phone call I make, not forgetting every single sms. There needs to be control here. (Not that I over did it, I mean I can't remember phoning alot of people.)

Fuck. Why is it so expensive? The only reason I went on contract is so that I have money to phone if my car breaks down and I am stranded on a desert island, or to phone clients for my business, or to receive emails.

Oh. Not forgetting to be able to have my b-a-you-ti-ful Blackberry. Yes, she's a beauty. And BBM works like a bomb. Although, can be a bit irritating when there's a hundred and one thousand million beeps going off signifying an email, or bbm, or sms. Yup, she's (the BB is a female)is always there to wake me up with a beep from a spam email. Nothing like a broken sleep hey.

But anyway. All in all, I am going to start a phone diary.

Starting right now.

Espresso anyone?

I'm fuck'en tired. I haven't felt this tired for ages - it's like your bottom eyelids are being pulled to the ground by chains. There's tired... and then there's t.i.r.e.d.
Mentally and physically I'm tired. My brain is not functioning, nor is my body - which feels like falling asleep, actually collapsing. Even my work desk looks comfortable at this stage. I can't seem to focus or concentrate.

Maybe I need a vitamin B shot in my bum to wake me up.

I can't understand where this tiredness is coming from... It could be induced by being overworked. It could be induced by non-enthusiasm. Actually, it's funny how people are always tired during the week, but on weekends they can wake up and feel as perky as ever.

It could be from unhealthy eating? It could be that I am heading towards a burn out? It feels like I am carrying a 100 ton load on my back.

Well, I am overworked. It's not even funny how much I am swamped under. Fuck me, I even came to work an hour and a half early this morning to get a head start. With so much work I don't even feel like I am making a dent in this huge pile.

And today I realised that we are more than half way through the year.

Yup, it must be a mid - year crisis.

Where everyone is tired, looking for direction in their life and just plain miserable.

Can you believe how fast this year has gone? Blink -oops - you missed it - its passed already. Scary.

Maybe I'll just have to try and bullshit myself into thinking that "I'm awake, I'm happy, I'm feeling vitality, I'm energetic."

"Hi, I'd like to make an order for delivery please - one strong ass expresso please - no sugar, just 20 spoons of coffee please." .... "Actually make it two espresso's."