The burning loins book

Hello dear followers!
Wow, it's been long since I've blogged. It feels good to feel the keyboard under my fingers and my mind starting to be creative again. And what's even better is blogging with Frank Sinatra blaring in the background and a glass of wine next to me.

And wow, such a wonderful way to come back to blogging with a BANG.......

.....50 SHADES OF GREY BABY!

Yes, I am sure you all know of this book already. The sex scenes..... Mr Grey. (I can feel my loins starting to heat up already.)
YES, I most certainly recommend this book. It is my new favourite book to read. My new favourite 'sex toy' if you will - I mean come on, who reads this book and doesn't get horny and jump their husbands?

Wow I can remember the first time my eyes met with the words... how the pages seduced me into a addicted focus. How the words would go into my mind, my eyes filling with gloried visions and my loins starting to heat up. (Seriously, at some point, you could cook a steak on them.)

With turning up everyone's sex life, I think this book has replaced many a flavoured condom, dildo and wierd looking sex toy that lines any porno shop. Even the conservative few sneak a read under their sheets. It certainly perked up mine and I am ever so thankful to E.L.James for that. Noddy badge, or free dildo, for her!

So next time you either lacking in the sex department or looking for a good read - 50 Shades baby! And at least when the electricity is out, you'll be amused for hours with reading this book and hey... you can cook your meal on those burning loins!

Sausage-Watching

I worked at an triathlon event the other day. My work was distracted by all the sausage watching (not intentional that is, but when something is right in your face how can you not see?)

Now I know athletes wear tight pants to help with movement and to increase speed, but come on people - use your TIGHT pants D.U.R.I.N.G the event, not before and after!

The amount of sausages that were on display was sickening. And the funny thing is, is that men don't care. It's like they love to showcase their trophy to the world. Regardless if it's teeny tiny or big-and-in-your-face.

There was this one guy who was wearing the tightest pants ever and they were white. With his knob and shaft clearly illuminated...he was better off standing there naked.

I think the designer of those pants is one sexually deprived lady. She's probably obese, covered in zits and has never been with a man. She probably made these pants so that she could always view the male form - or though never be intimate with it.

These pants certainly reveal EVERYTHING. Shame, some were small and others were big. But what they all had in common was the fact that they were all pulled to the left.

For all those men who continue to wear those pants:
1. Tuck it in
2. Wear pants over your 'tighties'
3. Wear a cup

I mean seriously now... there are children at these events!

The less in the fridge, the better the chef

This is not my fridge. I don't know what Mott's is, nor Krema nor Silk Light. And, my containers aren't see-through as depicted in the picture, nor do they have red lids. My containers are more like ice cream containers washed and reused (so I can never see what's in them, but it makes for a great guess-whats-in-it game.)

This fridge is just there to prove my point. This is a bare fridge. I stared in my own (similarly bare) fridge tonight.

Due to some arsehole not paying me, I have no money and no food in my fridge. Have no worry, spare no pity. When is comes to cooking - the less in the fridge, the better the chef I become.

I have a knack for creating a delicious - although wierd - meal from basically nothing. Using 'logical' ingredients in place of others I can still cook up a storm.

Good tips I've learnt
1. Use sugar when you don't have chutney
2. Use milk when you don't have cream (with a touch of flour to thicken)
3. Use spit instead of salt... only kidding
4. Use burger patties when you have no mince (I did that tonight. Not an optimal choice but it does work. Who said a 'burgery' taste isn't nice in a pasta?

Yes, it's always the case when you have a lack of ingredients and food supply, that you become really creative in cooking.

The one time I used fish and tomato puree when trying to make lasangue. IT DID NOT TASTE NICE (and my husband will agree) but it's only once in a while that you would make a disaster of a meal and rather eat pickles (that have been fermenting in your fridge for a year.)

Case in point, the less in the fridge, the better the chef and tonight I proved that yet again.
................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................ Sorry, had to pardon myself for 10 minutes

Throwing different ingredients into a bowl and making it taste great is beneficial, however too many ingredients can play havok on the stomach.

Laytop losers and coffee convicts

Walking into News Cafe, is like walking into a portable office.

I don't know what it is about coffee shops, but they've become the newest work office location.

There's something nice however about getting out your laptop at a coffee shop, with a cuppa' coffee by your side.

I'm sitting at News Cafe and all I can see is laptop losers all around me. Most of them are in suits and look smart, and here's Stacey in her ug boots looking like she just rolled outta bed.

I wonder what those people are doing on their laptops? I bet some of them are just posing.

Nevertheless it beats working from home infront of the TV. Working here gives you some sort of pride. So even if you are just posing, you feel like you are doing something worthwhile.

Gotta love those laptop losers and coffee convicts.

Big fat question mark

I'm in one of the stages of life where everything seems to be a question mark.
My hubi, wrote off his car. The arsehole assessor came round, manipulated the fuck out of us and now there is a big fat question mark as to whether or not insurance will pay out.
I resigned from my job - although the status of the company is questionable (I may as well have been retrenched) - and now I am still waiting for my salary. Will my salary be paid in? This is questionable.
Career path. Big fat question mark. Where am I going? What do I want to do with my life? Question mark, question mark, question mark.
I need answers to these damn questions marks.
I'm not in a good place. Emotions are questionable.

Tree of Knowledge

We all get 'above' ourselves thinking that we know everything. As a 25 year old, I used to think I was 'above' my age. 'Used to' being the important word here.

I sat with a friend the other day over a glass of wine and I was humbled. Very humbled. A few years older then me, she is way above me on the career ladder and her expertise and knowledge showed. I admire her for that.

Although humbled and made to feel like I knew nothing (self-inflicted), it was a good humbling. It was like I was hit with the clarity stick. Something in me clicked. I felt like I knew the basics but needed to learn more. I needed to climb up the knowledge tree.

I've been unfocused lately, doing many things at once and wondering why I couldn't pin down what I wanted to do - what inspired me. But how can you really know what you want to do, when you have no idea or have no in-depth knowledge of the thing you think you want to do? I needed to target my interests and learn about them. The two main areas of career I am involved in are events and journalism. The key area I want to get involved in is copywriting.

So out comes the laptop and research begins. No wonder my brain has been bored stiff and stagnate. It's been subconsciously yearning to learn. And to learn something that I am interested in. So research begins on the short courses. I am going to sign up and do a short course. Wow, my brain feels energised already!

Thinking broader, I then sign up to branding/advertising/copywriting newsletters and websites to keep me up-to-date on what's happening. Then I sign up to freelance websites and sign up to receive work shop updates.

So climbing up the tree of knowledge will entail:
Reading through ENTIRE newsletters - from top to bottom - and following links
Attending work shops
Doing a short course
Being mentored by those more in-the-know

As I climb, I become more focused and gain knowledge. From humble roots come branches of knowledge. "I can see clearly now the rain has gone."

This is all so exciting... I can feel my brain growing already!

Labraboxer

You know the movie 'Marley and me' - where they own Marley the 'worst' (but best) dog in the world.

Well we have Dontay - I'm sure he is a replica of the labrador in the movie, although is of Boxer breed. With the way he is... we should have our own movie "Dontay and me".

Although we love him to death and our lives and home would never be the same without him, he really is a naughty fella'.

Jumping over 20 foot high fences (and having to repeatedly make them higher); doing his overly energetic springbuck jump in the back yard; jumping on me in the garden (I feel like he's attacking me, but he's not); never coming inside when called and having to drap him indoors constantly; not being able to walk on a lead, resisting always; and just being overly active. Yes, he's a marley in real life.

We got him neutered today. So this blog is dedicated to his balls. Let's hope they make him more calmer.

He is a great dog and is so loving, just want him to be calmer. So without his balls, let's see if he remains a Marley dog.

Wanderlust: A true reflection

I watched Wanderlust last night. Although a comedy, to me, it symbolised more than that.

It reflected the 2 ways people live in our society currently - the materialistic rich folk and the spiritual, unmaterialistic people. Today, some people are so driven by materialistic things and their lives so full with technology, technological devices and boring jobs. It becomes a 'show' to them... "look at how much money I have!" and "...this big house defines who I am." Where others, live a more simple life (yet society labels them hippies - a bad stereotype.)

I would say I am more on the hippie side of things. Material things aren't everything to me and having the simple things is just fine.

If we all lived a more 'Wanderlust' lifestyle, the world would be a better place. I wouldn't have to exhaust myself hearing your bullshit stories about your new material devices or how much money you make. And you wouldn't have to babbler on so much, and waste your breath, about how successful you are - whilst inside I know you're still unhappy.
Wow, if I could live off the land and enjoy the simpler things in life, I'd do it in a flash. Not that I'd drink that halucinating tea or have sex with numerous people as they did in the movie, but I'd not be bombarding my technology or live a fast-paced life like other people in the rate race. Although the movie depicts polar opposite lifestyles, there needs to be a balance between the two.

This movie really confirmed that being who I am, and having the bare essentials, is perfectly fine. I realised that I am living the better lifestyle, and it's comforting.
What a WANDERful movie to watch - definitely goes amongst the top of my favourite movies to watch.

Caffeine Conversion

I used to L.O.V.E Coke. Now I L.O.V.E Coffee.

Both equally tasty, both bad for you.

As I long time addict to Coca-Cola, I finally weened myself off and got onto coffee - not thinking that they both had caffeine in it (DUH!). I can't go a day without my coffee fix. Yup, in the morning - straight to the kitchen to make my coffee. (And can you believe I used to be a tea-lover!)

I have undergone a caffeine conversion.

Did you know that 335ml coke contains about 30-35mg of caffeine; whilst a generic instant coffee contains 240ml about 27-173mg of caffeine? Best be getting back to coke, although with Coca-Cola comes rotten teeth, sugar-sugar-sugar and if it can clean blood off tar roads, then imagine what it does to your body! But in the same breath (a coffee breath I might add) - with coffee comes 2 and half spoons of sugar per cup for me and if you're having at least 2 cups a day then that equates to 7 and a half sugars. That still beats a can of coke that has about 10 spoons of sugar in it. So when it comes to either coke or coffee - it's a no win situation.

I've GOT To give up coffee and caffeine and leave conversions to game of Rugby.

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree

I have a problem and it's officially become bad.. bad to the point that I have to blog about it and confess my illness.

I am sick in the head.

I am that little boy in the movie, the 6th Sense.

You know that part in the movie where he stands in the kitchen and all the cupboard doors are open. Well, that's me everytime I am in the kitchen.
I have an illness, a sickness that makes me leave every cupboard door open. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me. I cook a meal, turn around and find that all cupboards stand open or ajar. Chris, just raises his eyebrows.

I need to take control of this. I need to take control of this situation. It's actually scarying the living day lights out of me.
I wonder where I get this from?

Well, I think it's from my dad. Upon closer inspection when he came to visit, he too left the cupboard doors open.

The apple must not fall far from the tree then hey?

There... I confess.. it's off my chest now.

Maybe I should go see a psychologist for this?

Damn you cupboard doors and the fact that you don't have the ability to close yourself!

Ambulance virgin and finger fun

I've never been in the back of an ambulance vehicle before. But after Saturday, thoust t'ist no longer an ambulance virgin. Stopped under the bridge on the highway, there sat Stacey in a flat panic, hands starting to cripple and limbs going numb, not forgetting the lower left crotch pain.

To cut a carrot short (aka in a nutshell) I was rushed to hospital.

Why is it that you are most unprepared when a gyny or doctor as to inspect your vag?

Male doctor: "I am going to have to look into your vagina to see if something is wrong."

Horrified Stacey: "ummm... excuse me. NO!"

Male doctor: "We have to."
Mored horrified Stacey: "No. Umm... you won't be looking at it - GET ME A FEMALE DOCTOR!"

I haven't shaved since the wedding and my bush is unkept to say the least. It's also been a long day.... (who knows what sweat has collected there.)

This is my nightmare materialising.
I quickly run, carrying the drip and all, to the bathroom for a freshening up.
Then it's back to the bed and time to spread them wide. C.R.I.N.G.E. Then she has a bit of the finger fun and has a good feel (I prefer a touch, then a stare to be honest... rather touch my fanny, then look deep into it)

HOW EMBARRASING!
Then after numerous scans etc, and about R12 000 later I have a severe bladder infection. I'm on a hospital plan - which doesn't cover it as I was not admitted. Fuck. Stupid hospital plan wankers.

Time to be a'changing to medical aid, where they can exploit me even more and steal all my money.

Oh well, at the end of it all - I am on the mend and have forgotten the embarrasing incident - although I am sure the image of my hairy bush is still affecting that female doctor.

Death by dust

This is what happens when I drive on the dirt road. Although, I have a kia picanto and get fucked up by the billowing smoke that these big cars and fast drivers leave behind when passing me. ... Did I ask for a McDonald dust meal whilst driving?

Living on a farm, I drive everyday on a dirt road. It's starting to really piss me off.

You should see my dash board - well it's so laden with dust you can't even see it. My car is like an incubator for dust. Driving now is like being force fed dust. My teeth become covered in the stuff and to swallow feels like I am licking chalk.
With Winter just about here, the dust is really bad. It's in my nose and my lungs are so badly congested. It's like the world has turned to brown and I'm swamped in dust. All I see is damn dust! Winter is causing death by dust.

So, tonight it's a herbal bath with aromatheraphy oils to try and cleanse the nasal passage ways. Then I'll place my head under steam and inhale the moist air. Then it's a healthy salad to cleanse the inside.

From now on, I'm driving with one of those masks around my mouth - do as the Chinese do!

Can you say MRS?

I'm married. I am a wife.

My wedding was a fairy tale... I wish it could be my wedding every day.

I'm in this state of euphoric; this happiness and I don't want to be brought down to earth, or reality yet. I want to float on cloud 9 forever.

I am so happy to call Chris my husband.

I am now a MRS! Mrs Woensdregt.

12h00-12th May-2012: my fairy tale.

And let the demons come out...

It was Chris's bachelor party. And yet again - alcohol proved itself as the medium to allow the demons to come out.
I got drunk - missing Chris meant I needed to drink.
He got drunk - being HIS bachelor party meant he was 'forced' tots and copious amounts of booze from the guys.
Both our demons came out.

I'm quitting drinking. I hate the demons when they come out.

Some of the many demons I have noticed are:

Bad verbal diarrhea: One can say the most horrible things to your partner when drunk. Like a sword in the heart.
Verbal forgettness: Talking shit to people and not remembering what you spoke about. Or, speaking about personal issues that you'll regret mentioning in the morning.

Dancing sexy and in a flirtous way (not that you're wanting to hook up) - more in a 'if guys look at me, then I'm still attractive; flattery sort of way'
All females do this. But I noticed I did and had a big conversation with Chris about it. You don't realise when you're drunk how much of a prostitute you look like. I mean I'm getting married for crap sake. I will never ever do this again. Although my intentions are pure and I'm dedicated to Chris for life, I didn't realise my waist movements would hurt him. So now it's just back to sexy dancing for Chris in the bedroom.

All men become the hulk. "Look at me, I can fuck up anyone. I am mean and aggressive. Let me rip off my clothes and show you my muscles. Let me rip off my pants and show you how big my penis is." The hulk demon is always present in men when they drink. But it's also present in Stacey when she drinks. I become this AGRO scary bitch - I get embarrased by this demon.

So it's not only the hangover that makes me want to stop drinking - it's also the accompaning demons.
Booze is like demons in a can - just with a flick on the lid, we let the demons come out!

NEW BLOG TO FOLLOW!

http://www.playboysexyrecipes.blogspot.com/ That's all I'm going to reveal. Follow the blog, click the Facebook link on top right. Do it, do it NOW.

Willy central

Dear blog,

Sorry I have not written for a while - I've been too busy playing with sexy lingerie, dildo straws, willy biscuits, penis covered cups, willy cake and my big knob head-band. On Saturday it was willy central.

Yes - it was my bachelorette party.

Dressed to impress in my blonde wig, apron, bride sash, penis head band and 'tranny' make up I was good to go!

Wow did my friends and mother make an effort - I was well impressed.

Night antics included squatting over a man's urinal, kissing 2 bald man's heads and asking for condoms (as part of the list I had to complete by the end of the night) and dancing on the bar. With the amount of alcohol I consumed I'm surprised I didnt pass out or cotch. Good going Stacey!

I woke up with such gratitude and happiness for my friends and family who did this for me (including a dry mouth and hangover)
Best night out yet!

Chris's bachelor party is this weekend (...and you know how men get)

Well I'll have to seduce him with the many sexy lingerie outfits I got from my party - every day leading up to his bachelor party. And before he leaves for his gig I'll wear my one piece and he'll leave with a good memory in his head, and one that wont be quickly forgotten.

Thanks Ladies, loved it.

(When can we do it again...naughty laugh. There's still two weeks to my wedding so it can be my bacholette party every second night! Pick a date.)

Counting down the days

Can you believe its less then 3 weeks and it'll be my wedding day.

Talk about stress. Even weed-head-Bob Marley, with his chilled-doped-up attitude, would see his balls shrivel with anxiety.
Most of the big things are done, it's just the little things that slip your mind, that cause you to almost pull your hair out.
EEEekkkkkkkk.....

I am excited though and the hit of marrying Chris - this huge commitment - has come and gone. I'm not refering to cold feet, mine are as 'warm' as ever. It's just the thought of 'Holy crap, I'm getting married!!!"

And it's now that we begin counting down the days.

Stacey Rowan, filled with stress, will not become Bridezilla. By the last week, I would have been all stressed out, that no longer will I worry or feel anxious. Maybe I'll adopt Bob Marley's attitude (without the weed of course)

Everything will fall into place.

I need one final organising day today - just to get all my ducks in a row and finish up on those last errans and things to do. Thank Goodness for my mother, without her I'd be Bridezilla from the moment I'd gotten engaged. Bridezilla that would have killed Bob Marley!

3 weeks baby - 3 weeks.

It is as good as they say it is...

Making love by the fireplace is as good as they say it is (or as shown in movies) I finally did it and can now put having sex in the lounge, as one of my places I have done it in. Unless you're a prune, we all have those little lists. Although, it wasn't in an isolated wooden cabin out in the Andes, with snow and polar bears peering through the window... I had 7 dogs watching instead. And instead of being surrounded with snow, I had smoke billowing in from the chimney (our chimney doesn't work to well) - so although I couldn't really breath and my eyes were burning, the smoke created a 'sexy' haze. But hey... there's nothing like the warm heat and the sound of the wood crackling to set any 'occasion' on fire. Besides the 7 onlookers, it was still very romantic. Yup, it is as good as they say it is!

A new blog to follow

I have another blog for you all to follow, and this one is EXTRA special as it's my fiance.

My addiction to blog writing has now rubbed off onto Chris... and hard. His blog, so cleverly written (he should be a journalist... shit, this boy is talented!), is as follows:

http://chris-tal-clear-photography.blogspot.com/2012/04/so-it-begins.html?spref=fb

Go check it out and follow! It showcases his beautiful photography. I get so happy seeing him being all proud of himself and it's so nice to see him with firecrackers up his bum and doing something with his talent. It's nice to see him ambitious! Hopefully this blog will take him places - with his talent I am sure it will.

Go babe Go - blog away!

Pushing trollies through sex stores

I have a food fetish at the moment.

Pushing my trolley around the grocery store is like walking through a sex store. I love food and lately it's about what 'excites' me.

I've just baked scones, laced them with cream and strawberry jam and enjoyed every tantalising mouthful. Every taste heightened, every note of sweetness hitting the the tip of my tongue.

The kitchen is like a sexual act. You have your cooking utensils (aka sex toys); the ingredients (your bodies) and the heat of the oven (the sexual chemistry). Every meal you make is a different experience; and every final dish is the end result, the ultimate orgasm.

I've been having quite a few orgasms lately.

Salad, sweet chilli and avo
As a newly introduced virgin to salad, I just can't get enough now. It's like once you pop, you can't stop. It's as if I have found a good sex book and am not able to put it down. Eating this salad is like having sex with an unexperienced person (although not a virgin) - it's refreshing, clean with a hint of kinkiness. Even an unexperienced person has a little 'sweet-chilli' side to them; a whip inside their Victorian closet.

Chicken, coriander, tomato and Thai pesto.
Now this is when it starts to get interesting. With all these tastes it's busy in your mouth; like a very busy rumble in the sack. Pesto, which hits all corners of your mouth - the sweet, sour, salty and bitter, can be compared to a very sexual man - and one who knows what he's doing. A peck on the lips, a lick on the hips and a smothering all over. There's nothing 'local' about this meal, it's foreign - like an Italian man. And yes, in this case when it comes to foreign - the grass is most certainly greener on the other side. And like those many occasions when you wake up next to a man you didn't recogise and have remorse and guilt written all over your face - this meal is healthy and guilt free.

Tomato and onion
Raw onion. This is the best orgasm for me. Raw onion and tomato is the perfect combination. It's like Angelina and Brad Pitt doing it. Pure perfection.

Chilli poppers (Jalapeno's stuffed with feta and crumbed)
Chilli to me is like using Durex 'heat' lubrication - uncomfortable, with a severe burning. Having said that though - bit by bit, I'm starting to like the chilli. There's something about that sudden instant burn. It's like having sex with a man who is like the rabbit - goes hard and fast for a minute and almost breaks you in the act. Then just as one suffers from ring sting; the encounter with the 'rabbit-man' leaves you painful and sore the next morning. So this meal is good on the day, but bad in the morning.

Pork and butter beans
An old family favourite which I have recently acquired the recipe for, and of which will now cook on a regurlar basis. This meal - creamy, filling and rich - is like making love with your husband or wife. It's familiar and satisfying and always leaves a good taste in your mouth, and one that lingers.

Pancakes with oriental veg and tomato relish
Pancakes are local; oriental veg is international. This meal is about having two polar opposite tastes, but two different tastes that mesh, and mesh well. It's like a midget and a very tall person doing the dirty deed. You think 'how on earth do they do it'... but they just do, and it's amazeballs.

I can't wait for my next shopping trip. Looking at the fresh produce, the tinned foods and consumables is like looking at the array of dildo's on display. Which one of these food products is going to set my mouth on fire and leave me salivating for more? With good food, as with great sex, always leave one wanting more.

Self-discovery

The time is now.

After many incidences with people, I have now realised that I am portraying what I don't want to portray; I am expressing what I don't want to express and am I the very person I don't want to be.

I have issues. Everyone does. I have been aware of them for as long as I can remember. I seek psycologists or physics to give me direction, but have only just reminded myself to look within.

The more I try and hide my issues or avoid them, the more they are right in my face; the more I try not speak about them, the more that's all I speak about. I don't understand why this is, but it just is. And these issues are becoming more and more prevalent in my life, and more noticable to others.

So I have made a decision to start on a journey of self-discovery. I am going to look within; I am going to seek the child within and lay all my issues on the table. I am actually quite excited to get out my old files, old photo's and old memories. Bring out the cardboard and pens - it's time to ask those questions and write down those mind maps. It's all about 'me-time'.

I must not seek others to find clarity, it will come from within.

Let this journey of self-discovery begin.

What goes in, must come out

I am not a fan of chilli, spices, curry and anything hot.

To me, the idea of removing any form of taste in your mouth with the over powering taste of heat, is a waste of time.

But went to a friends house last night for supper and decided to brave the heat and eat some 'chilli poppers' (jalapeno chilli stuffed with feta, crumbed and then fried).

Into the mouth... wait... slight burn... burn... quite nice. I surpassed my expectations and ate about 8.

But what goes in, must come out. And this morning, my braveness is being rewarded with ring-sting. I have the chilli bum. For the life of me, I can't understand how these Indians do it. No wonder they so thin - their whole body weight is pood out the next morning, after a day of the curry. I mean, have you ever seen an obsese Indian? And if so, he's probably allergic to the hot stuff.

Having fun whilst saving

After mindless tv watching, I came across the most bing boggling show.

EXTREME COUPONING.

It's my new hobbie. My new favourite thing, along with salad and Drostohof wine.

These people buy BULK and with copious amounts of coupons, they end up saving 97% or more on their purchase. One lady bought products for about 800 dollars and only paid 40 dollars. Better yet, this other woman bought products for 3000 dollars and only paid 87 dollars.

Mind boggling. I think yes.

Going through these people's houses is like walking through their very own Pick n Pay? Rows and rows of products. ROOMS of products.

I wish South Africa was like the USA. Bet the only coupons we probaby get are saving 50c on R27.00 (no value there); coupons are also very few and far between. And to put another damper on my hope, SA coupons have expiry dates - lasting about a week (or if you're really lucky, about a week and a day.)

So how can I, living in SA, be an extreme couponer with there is this drought of coupons? And with food prices icreasing at the speed balls shrink in cold water, these coupons are needed. And needed bad. We're having to resort to beans on toast.

Best me putting my investigator hat on and being Sherlock Holmes. Need to research this. Maybe their are free coupon sites? I don't think it's worthwhile if I have to BUY a newpaper to get a coupon from it. It equals itself out.

But seriously, if I can become an OCD extreme couponer and save bucks, then hell's yes.. pass me the reigns! Better yet, if I get bucket loads of products and have my own Pick n Pay in my home, I'll ge family and friends to come and buy products from me (of course at a cheaper rate then the actual store prices) and then make some money.

This could actually become a business!

I could also donate to charities. Everyone wins! Besides those big food conglomerates - but hey, they rip us off anyway.

This is all just too exciting. I'm off to check the sites!
Call me - Stacey: South African -extremecouponerwannabe-Sherlock Holmes.

Down and out

I'm in a dark place.

As I write this ball of water is rising out of my stomach, up my throat and is about to burst out of my eyes in a million tears.

For the past few days it's the usual:

Cry. Mood swing. Cry. Mood swing.

I seriously think I am battling depression. This dark cloud keeps hovering over me like a bad smell.

I feel lost. With no direction one doesn't want to put a step forward. So they just stand. In the same spot. For a long period of time.

There is no black or white in this hole. It's just grey.

I am lost in my life. I don't feel me.

I'm stressed as hell; sad as ever and feel like a drifting soul... a zombie that just walks.

I keep praying. I think of a positive thought and immediately it's murdered by a negative one.

I want to feel normal again.

Pick me, pick me

Tanya and Charl,

Pick me, pick me to be one of your columnists or writers.

It's not every day you have someone who has the big enough balls to phone you up - on your cell 'nog al - and say the words 'penis', 'orgasm' and 'shit', whilst asking to be one of your writers. But hey, in the same breath, it's not every day you find editors of a top magazine returning your call. Pretty impressive I'd say. Noddy badges all round.

This is my blog. As Google sent me an email a while back stating that my blog was too much of a 'sexual' nature, I had to remove all content that was rude, explicit or ones that resembled the slight notion of explaining a ball hair - and now there are no longer sexual blogs. So I regretfully have to tell you that you won't be able to read about the 'Attack of the hairy vag' - one of my top viewing blogs.

But here are some blogs which might arouse you. Google has not seemed to track these ones down as yet.

http://thisismetakeitorleaveitlessonslearnt.blogspot.com/2010/12/turkey-skin.html

http://thisismetakeitorleaveitlessonslearnt.blogspot.com/2010/10/meeting-charlie-sexpo.html

http://thisismetakeitorleaveitlessonslearnt.blogspot.com/2010/06/men-irrational-apes.html

http://thisismetakeitorleaveitlessonslearnt.blogspot.com/2010/08/chicken-bjs.html

http://thisismetakeitorleaveitlessonslearnt.blogspot.com/2010/08/wheat-grass.html

http://thisismetakeitorleaveitlessonslearnt.blogspot.com/2011/08/feminity-in-nature.html

As discussed on the telephone, I am very blunt, open-minded, masculine brained and to the point. I like to write about the things that are publically shunned, although house wives and proud dads like to read secretly in the bathroom whilst pretending to poo.

I speak from personal experience when it comes to gender, sex, men, women, genitalia, relationships and other tantalising topics. This is then layered with humour, sarcasism, wit, locality and rhetorical questions. My writing style is like the perfect penis - long and flowing; neat and trimmed from far observation and detailed upon closer inspection. And when writing about conservative matters, the style is like an uncircumsised penis - noticably 'covered'.

I am looking for the perfect platform to write. As Carrie from 'Sex and the City' writes a column, so do I - but a better one. Give me a shot. Take a chance.

And if you do decide to take me on board, 'The best is yet to cum.'

Welcome to the world Riley!

My sister gave birth to the most amazing miracle on 18 March 2012, Riley.

Her baby boy, my nephew, is beautiful beyond words.

Pinch me, it's still so surreal.

I could sit and stare at him for hours.

As the newest addition to the family, he has so much support and love already.

Thank you Lord for bringing him into this world; thank you for his safe arrival and may he always be loved and cared for.

Farming is hard

There are pro's and con's to every lifestyle.
Pro's and con's of living in the city; and pro's and con's to living on a farm.

You do have hard days on the farm. With having many animals on the farm, there will be many deaths.

Another chicken of ours, Herbert the rooster, was killed today by our dogs. So that brings the number of chicken's down to ONE.

It's another hard day on the farm. Funny how it's raining too.

And sad how he was just beginning to crow.

RIP herbert - we love you.

Do I look like a criminal to you?

Dealing with insurance is like speaking to a police man.

They make you feel bad,as if you in the wrong and therefore should go to jail.

Being robbed, we had to go through the insurance company and the assessors. They came, they saw, they questioned.

When I first signed up they asked me questions like:
"Is there a security watch group in your area?"
"Do you have burglar bars on all non-opening windows?"
"Are you home all the time?"

I answered as best as I could.

But with these insurance companies, there is no grey. It's either black or white; its either a yes or a no - which is bull.

I have 70% burgular bars on non-opening windows.

Assessor: "NOT ON ALL WINDOWS, so we will just have to tell the insurance company that what you first stated is wrong."
Stacey: "But I have on MOST windows, so can't you add that in."
Assessor: "But not on ALLLLLL windows."

I am mostly at home.

Assessor: "But you say you sometimes have to go out. So we will just have to tell the insurance company that you are only at home at night."
Stacey: "But I am here every morning and most of the time."
Assessor: "But unless you're a house wife or have a full time made then that doesn't count."
STacey: "So what - I must be home every minute of every day, and can't even step outside to go take the garbage out?"

We have a security watch group in the area.

Assessor: "So you say you have a watch group, but you don't belong to security group?"
Stacey: "There is a security company opposite the road from us. There is a security guard who walks around the farm and there is a watch group called Skeerpoort watch. And I never said I BELONG to anyone."
Assessor: "Well we are going to have to tell the insurance company then as you say you belong to someone but you don't."

Yes, I believe this woman was doing her job and it's good to know she was so efficient, but I have a problem when it comes to you questioning me and not understanding what I was saying. YOU ARE MAKING ME OUT TO BE A CRIMINAL, LIAR AND FRAUDSTER.

I am paying for this service, so dammit treat me like a normal human being, and not question me as if I am a criminal.

The thing I have come to realise with these people is that they don't like to insure those who have a bigger risk. So the less security you have, the more you pay per month.

But seriously, if I lived in a fort and had the lochness monster swimming in my river that surrounds my house - do you honestly think I would get insurance. Hell to the no.

Back to the stoneage

So since the robbery, I haven't had my own laptop, or my personal stuff which was on it, for 7 days. It sucks ostrich poo balls.

I have resorted to paper. I am working on paper, drawing calenders on paper and no longer working on technological devices. Feels like I am in the stoneage.

I feel lost without it, but having my A4 exercise book to write in actually doesn't make the wound to bad.

Can't wait to be in the 21st century again when I get my new laptop. The stoneage is boring. Although it's nice to know that I don't need my laptop for everything and that my book won't be stolen. I mean, who steals paper?

At least I'll be used to having no technology when Dec 21 hits and all technology is destoyed and it's the end of the world as we know it. Then I'll welcome the stone age and all it's paper.

Can you say itchy?

Now how do I put this so it is approriate and in no way rude? How do I speak of this so that it's not totally directed at me or socially unacceptable? How do I say this without being a 'man' and avoiding any feminity. How do I write this without devulging every bit about my vulva or my vaginal problems? I can't... this is my blog and I'll write as I normally do. Every female has a vagina problem... I am just open to talk about it. Now, I don't want to discuss this problem in detail... it's not the problem that's the point - it's the funny affects it has. I always look at the humourous side of things.

Thursh.

THE ITCH!

Now if you're a woman, you're probably having a slight giggle now. You're all had it... you've all had the itch.

SCRATCH THE ITCH and it's 'aaaahhhhhhhhhhhh'

Wow wee, the itch can be bad sometimes. What's even worse is when you need a good damn scratch and you're surrounded by people or you're in a place or situation where you can't scratch.

Why is it that when men have an itchy ball, they openly move their hands down and have a good scratch, in view of everyone to see. It's socially accepted.

Now us woman have to secretly move our bum cheeks and legs to try and ease the itch or secretly bend down to 'pick up a pen' and as we rise quickly move our hand there and slightly scratch; or remove ourselves politely from the office meeting... run to the bathroom and have a case of 'mad-scratching'. But in our own 'space' (like driving a car) we have a quick scratch whilst staring at the person in the next car and smile, secretly thinking "If only you knew what I was doing."

Wish we, as woman, were like men. When there's an itch.. we just scratch. At least we don't then have to go through hours of the itch - to get to a a point of screaming - which leaves us resorting to rough scratching. Poor vagina.

The itch is a real bitch.

A new blog to follow

Once in a life time you come across an extraordinary person - a person who has overcome things you would never think you could.

A 3x cancer survivor, Eunice is a benchmark for strength and faith.

I recently met her and welcomed her to the world of blogging by helping her start her own blog - a blog where she could share her stories and help those going through the same thing.

I believe fate had something to do with our meeting. Currently my dad is also going through Cancer treatment. I took it hard, but through hearing her story I know all things are possible and that my dad has the strength to overcome his cancer.

To all my readers, go visit her blog http://3bsurvivor.blogspot.com/ - it is nothing less than inspring. Share her link with friends, spread the word of strength.

Bullshit sayings

As the saying goes 'things come in threes" - well being on my number 7, I'd pretty much say this statement is bullshit.

The saying "when it rains it pours' is not bullshit, it's true. When it rains, it fucken pours. In my situation, it 'snowed' even.

Chris and I have possibly had one of the worst weeks (7 days) ever, well since a long time. Let me list how many things have happened and how my strength has been tested. Bare in mind, this is over ONE WEEK.

NUMBER 1: Chris bumps his car into a small pole - aka - DENT
NUMBER 2: Chris's new phone breaks so had to take it in to be fixed and only God knows how long these slow pokes will take to fix it. Stupid cell phone shops.
NUMBER 3: Dontay, my puppy boxer and Sally, our sausage dog, attacks Betsie our pet chicken. Feathers everywhere. There I am trying to pull 2 dogs off this poor chicken. Needless to say, she lost many feathers and has a broken leg. We took her to the vet (NO - we did not kill and cook her) and she spent most of the week in the shower trying to heal. Poor thing.
NUMBER 4: House gets robbed and my laptop stolen. Put simply, FUCK. Our house will never feel safe again.
NUMBER 5: Giant tree 'somehow' falls down (with no wind and no storm) and breaks a large hole in the fence. "Come robbers, you now can walk freely onto our farm and carry the tv out."
NUMBER 6: Betsie dies. She got a respiratory illness. Didn't want to her suffer so we sadly put her down. Our farm will never be the same again.
NUMBER 7: Chris falls and breaks his perfect teeth. He now has a hole in the front, where the front tooth has been broken off. Poor babe, he hates looking like a hillbillie.

I just pray, on my knees, that God blesses us with a better week next week. May He keep us safe, may He protect all my animals, may He heal Chris's tooth and may He help with the insurance so that I can get my new laptop and can get back on track with work.

In God I trust.

Amen.

We got robbed

Fuck.

We got robbed.

I was out for an hour - the fuckers must have been watching me. Chris came home early, scared them and they fled - unable to finish us off.

My laptop was stolen. It is the worst thing you could steal from me. All my personal stuff, my Stace-Face business stuff, my work emails - EVERYTHING FUCK'EN GONE.

Thank God, I took a universal sign and got house hold insurance a month ago. How's that for listening to your gut!

Although I care about my stuff - what bothers me and scares the living crap out of me is that I don't want them to hurt my dogs or Chris and I.

Now I live in fear. When will this fear go away? When will I feel safe again?

What if they come back to finish us off? I keep watching the windows to see if they coming.

Fuck I hate not having a lap top. Can't work. Can't do general things.

Karma is a bitch.

Big ego's need big cars

Now I have nothing against house wives or soccer moms, I'm only against the choice of cars that they drive.

I have noticed on numerous occasions, the type of cars that these mom's drive. The AUDI 4 x 4's; BMW 4 x 4's; Range Drover Sport (the worst of the lot) - these big ass cars that are supposed to be off-road/ dirt road/ 4 x 4 type cars but they fail to fit this bill.

Definition of 4 x 4 vehicle: a vehicle that has power supplied by the engine to all four wheels so that it can travel easily over difficult ground

Travelling from your house to the school ( a 5 min drive on tar road) does not classify as difficult ground. I mean seriously, have you ever seen a BMW/AUDI/RANGE ROVER SPORT been taking into the mountains and driving in hard terrain. NO! Even the adverts that showcase these cars, illustrate the cars driving on tar roads in the city, or on exception - driving on a dirt road with LIMITED tiny rocks and stones. AUDI and BMW in particular should not be making these cars.

I see alot of these cars.....



...and everytime I see them I want to use my tiny Kia Picanto car, ramm them up the back end of the car and push them into a wall. Hard. The sad thing is, is that these cars are everywhere and they are all driven my soccer moms.



Seriously, does this Audi look like a 4x4, heavy duty; can-withstand-bushy-landscape-and-go-half-way-into-a-dam-and-come-out-safely car? No, and the funny thing is - is that when buying this type of car one 'supposedly' wants to use it for off roading. But do you ever see these cars dirty, or scratched or covered in mud? No. They are always pristine and clean. This proves my point that these cars are bought for egos and not for its true purpose.



Yes, I understand that these soccer mom's transport a million kids around, but why can't they buy something more economically friendly and cheaper? Like this:



or this....

But no, you'd rather have something that has a nice pretty brand name. These average cars do the EXACT same thing as your ego-enhancing cars do.

Some of these mom's only have one or two children. So, they buy these cars as they rich 'yummy' moms and need the extra space for their enlarged heads that carry their large ego's. I mean, these petite woman look stupid in these big cars. Shouldn't the men be driving these cars?

What got me even more irritated is that one day I was waiting in a public parking lot and this soccer mom came and parked next to me. It was a very hot day, and because I'm not rolling in the bucks (like most people) I leave my windows and doors slightly open to get a breeze to try and cool off. There she was parked with her windows up and her air con on.

Air on = engine on = hot air going into my car as well as NOISE from the engine.
This went on for like half an hour. I was fuming.

I wanted to get out of my car and tell this woman:

"Listen here, just because you have the money to pay for the petrol you are wasting by leaving your engine running so you can have your air con on, doesn't mean I have to sit hear and listen to your 'truck' roaring and get more hot by the heat coming off the front of your car. Also, Miss I-have-too-much-money-to-sit-and-worry-about-the-environment, just because you want to be aircon-cool doesn't mean the ozone has to suffer from the constant fumes that your car is blowing out, you inconsiderable bitch."

Point: I hate AUDI/BMW/RANGE ROVER SPORT cars. With the passion.

Jack of all trades

When it comes to career, I wear many hats. I do many things.

I am a jack of all trades. I am like margarine, spread thinly. The problem with Jack, because he is spread thinly, is that Jack does a half arsed job.
Now I am not one to be half-arsed or do things without doing it to the best of my ability, but what happens when you are required to do a job but are not given the correct supplies or means to do it? It's like you're trying to build a wall without cement? Then it's the question of karma. I am getting paid to do these things, but feel as if I shouldn't get paid as I am not doing my best (although this is not a fault on my behalf). Will Karma kick Jack in the butt?

It's like some people sit at a desk job and do nothing. It is not their fault as the company is going down and there is not much work. Will karma come round to bite them in the arse?

First it's the issue of I want to do my best. I want to feel pride in what I do and leave the tasks knowing that I did a good job and that the remuneration is deserved.

Secondly, I'm tried of wearing a thousand hats. They're getting too heavy. I don't want to be a jack of all trades, I want to be a Jill. Jill does one job and is happy with it. It also provides her with enough remuration for the expensive world she lives in. You see, us jacks, we wear many hats because one hat doesn't give us enough remuneration.

I want one hat. One size, one colour, one design! Or if I am too remain a jack, I want to get the right supplies and tools, and do my jobs properly.

Love is in the air... or the tv set!

Happy Valentines Day to all those love obsessed, can't-get-enough-of-each-other couples and to those who are single and went on blind dates.

And to you my gorgeous fiance, happy valentines day. (Although everyday with us is Valentines day. )

So I didn't get any flowers, or cards or teddy bears (that gather dust after a week) - or any other gifts that show our love, but we got a gift that we love.

DSTV BABY!

Gee whiskers - watching reruns of friends to the point of knowing each individual episode and every word said can make one go mad. I was on the brink of insanity.

I am so excited - normal TV! There's so much to watch that I end up clicking, in rapid speed, through the channels. It's like a fat person at a cake store.. too many decisions. It's like you don't want to eat one piece at a time, you'd rather smash the whole cake in your face.

This is the best valentines day ever - thank you DSTV.

Let's celebrate Valentines day my babe and watch porn (a slight form of love in a weird way) - KIDDING!

Butternuts and kidney stones

Hell's bells we have our first butternut. (the image is not ours, but it's sure like it)

Yes it's a baby one - the size of a male testicle - and yes it's only one, but hell's bell's we have one. Hey... maybe that's why it's called a butter...nut - because it looks slightly like a ball, a testicle.

It takes a true 'farmer' to really appreciate this moment, to really be grateful for the growth on his or her farm. Our butternut is fast growing - it's reached puberty even before our tomatoes (which we planted ages ago). Yup, our tomatoes are slow bloomers.

What makes this moment even more special is that a butternut is one of the hardest plants to grow and we did it! It's like giving birth to kidney stones in a hospital bed, when your friend next to you is giving birth to a human baby. It's small but you're still filled with pride(watch the Friends episode with Joey)

Wow, our farm is definately growing (lil' butternut at a time) and country living is getting better each day.

Thumbs up, Thumbs down

Okay no need to hold your horses anymore - I feel inspired to write. Lots going on, so am categorising them in thumbs up; thumbs down!

More "what if's?" = Thumbs down
The other night our electricity went off, taking all the workings of the appliances and gadgets with it. Then the lights came back on, but all the appliances; tv; computers and plug points stayed off. I didn't sleep that night. Oh shit, what if they don't come back on and we're left with nothing? Oh shit. It got me thinking - what if everything is blown; or we get robbed; or the house gets flooded? What if? I took this as a sign. GET HOUSE INSURANCE. Luckily, everything worked the next day but I took this as a universal sign and got me some house insurance. Thumbs up for now being insured but thumbs down for this insurance now creating an even bigger hole in my every light pocket. All these what if's - like funeral policies; retirement; insurance for all assets (and the list goes on) - are making me broke. How on earth is anyone supposed to save money with all this paying for what ifs? We are like chicken licken who thinks the sky is going to fall on our heads.

Wedding plans = Thumbs up
Wedding plans are going well. Invites our out. We have signed the wedding contract and just have to hand it in. Chris has signed his life to me (evil laugh). Going wedding dress patterns and fabric shopping tomorrow. All is looking good. I'm the luckiest girl in the world, having the love of my life.

Jobs = Thumbs done
Still doing a job I hate. Every day I think to myself "Why, everyday, do I do something I am not passionate about?" Thumbs done, point blank.

Drinking = Thumbs down
The other night I got drunk off wine and vomited. Shit I hate a hang over. I hate drinking and doing silly shit and then waking up feeling embarrassed, trying to remember the antics I got up to. I think the older one gets, the longer the hangover lasts. I swear, the next day I slept most of the day and still felt like I was shot with a tranquilizer gun. I hate drinking. Even when you're drunk, thinking all 'lekker', it's still a big thumbs down. What's the point of drinking...seriously?

Bladder infection = Thumbs down
Been suffering with this for almost two weeks. Need I say more. Pee. Burn. Pee. Burn. Citris Soda. Burn. Irritable bladder prevention medication. Burn.

Broke ass = Thumbs down
I'm sick of being broke and counting my pennies. Bills, bills, bills, bills, bills, bills. Debt and more debt. Big thumbs down.

Look at this list. I need more thumbs up. My thumb is getting sore from pushing down so much.

Hold your horses

Hi. It's been so long that I forgot who you are.

Dear blog, I am sorry. I have neglected you.

I have been busy. Uninspired to write really, not wanting to actually sit down and type.

So hold your horses, when I am inspired to write - I will.

Patience is a virtue, virtue is a grace and grace was a fat girl who never washed her face. Poor dirty grace.

Food Orgasm

Isn't this the most appropriate picture for a food orgasm?

Definition:
A climax of food excitement, characterised by pleasure centered in the mouth and accompanied by an 'mmmmmmmmm' sound.

I had multiple food orgasms last night.

Living in Hartees, I have yet to still dine at all the restaurants. Chris and I went for a romantic dinner last night at Siesta's - a Spanish restaurant. Now we have never been there, but after all my food orgasms - I'll be back there very very soon.

Being Spanish, the menu's consists of different tapas.

We ordered:

Spanish omelette... mmmmmmmmmmm
Paella.... food orgasm no 1.
Butterfish ..... bigger mmmmmmmmmmmm
Melon, Rocket, Balsamic vinegar and prosciutto - food orgasm no.2
Chorizo with fresh tomato sauce - THE BIG BANG

Seriously - that is the BEST restaurant I have ever been to, and the food.... MMMmmmmm! This morning I am having food withdraws.

Not only was the food to die for, but the ambiance was lovely - it's just so romantic and intimate.

It comes seriously HIGHLY recommended in my books!

Can't wait to go there again for more food orgasms.

Heartburn in a bowl

Now I can't take credit for this title - it was my hubi Chris who thought it up. (He's such a clever man)

Last night, Chris decides to make a quick meal. Now men (generalising) and kitchens should not mix. I mean, for men, making the simplest thing is the biggest thing.

Chris: "Where's the margarine?" "Where is the forks?"

He wanted to make those - cook-in-12-minutes-pasta-in-a-bag thingies. Now I had tried it a while back and it almost blew my head off being 'Spicy Tomato with Chilli'. It was disgusting.

I warned him about the heat. But men, having 'mentally-enlarged balls' think they can handle it and never admit that something is to hot for them.

Chris starts to eat it.

Stacey: "Is it hot?"

Chris: "No."

Sweat starts to form on his forehead. He SECRETLY tries to wipe it off.

Stacey: "Is it hot now?"

Chris (who smiles and starts to breath air in and out): "A little bit."

A while passes and Chris's nose begins to run. (A sure sign of something being chilli-fied)

Chris: "This doesn't taste of anything. It's disgusting. All it's doing is killing my taste buds. It's burning in my throat."

Now at this point I'm hosing myself with laughter.

Chris: "This is like heartburn in a bowl!"

Chris then runs to the kitchen tap and drinks water. Bet you he'll be having the ring-sting in the morning. Where there's heat - there's ring-sting.

Bloodpaths

Do you see the huge amount of dead bodies in the back ground. I think that is what every human leaves behind when they die... a mere bloodpath in their wake.

People will always say...

"Live your life for you. Make yourself happy. Don't worry about making others upset or worry about what they think."

Now I have always been a people pleaser, never one to enjoy hurting others or neglecting to consider their feelings when making my own decisions.

But I think it's impossible to make yourself happy without leaving a blood trail behind. Cynical as it may sound, I think life is all about disappointing people. Once again I think it's impossible to please every SINGLE person when making a decision that affects others around you.

A double edge sword: Make a decision that makes you happy. Hurt someone. Feel upset for hurting them and then your happiness is depleted.

Or maybe it's not about hurting someone. If they really knew you and would revel in your happiness with you they would see the bigger picture and be happy for you and not be hurt. OR, make others happy by doing decisions that make them happy, and their happiness will make you happy.

I don't know.

Bloodpaths or not, I've made my decisions and the blood stains are starting to appear on my trail.

Car wash, spit style

This happened to me a while ago. I forgot to write about it.

I was instantly reminded today, upon being run after by a car wash lady asking if I wanted my car cleaned.

Now - this is not one of those car wash places, where you drive in and wait 15 minutes to get your car soaked with water, soap and cleaned thoroughly. This is that stupid car wash company where washers wait in the parking lot at shopping centres - ready to pounce on you once you have parked your car and step one foot out of the door. I swear they sit there waiting. And waiting. And waiting until you get out and look at them. I feel like I am being harassed the minute I drive into the parking lot.

With a very dirty car the one day, I allowed them to wash it.

Came back and after driving home - I noticed how unclean it was. In the light you could see the wipe marks still with dirt. I then recalled their cleaning equipment. A bucket, cleaning wipe and little water spray bottle. Generally, with car washing you use a LOT of water to really remove the dirt. What they did was obviously use a little spray of water and wiped the dirt around. Seriously now - how do you expect to clean a car with one bottle of spray water!?

I was angry. That day I vowed to never let those car washers clean my car again. And especially with the cost they charged.

I may as well have cleaned the car with my spit and I would have had a better result.

TIPS FOR CAR WASHERS:

- Have a hose pipe
- Use lots of water and soap
- Cleaning does not mean smooshing the dirt around
- A small spray bottle is used to water plants, not to clean cars.

I should actually write a letter to that company and complain. Or better yet, file a case of harassment against them.

Sanitizer please!

After creating an office in the back room of my house, my hubi-to-be moved in his computer.

There it was.

Staring at me.

It's dirt and germ-layered surface, silently shouting at me "touch me... I'm germ infested. You know you want to. Touch my germs."

His key board.

Now Chris is not a dirty person, but his keyboard sure was. I guess that's what happens when you don't clean it.

I had to clean it.

Bring on the washing. But wait, let's get out the microscope. I had always thought that the keyboard was old - hence the non-visibility of the letters on the key board. But wait. The germs and dirt has actually layered itself on some of the letters (funnily enough it's always the letters that you use the most). I like to call this "Gunge" or "Gunk". It's almost as bad as when someone has white gunk on the sides of their mouths - a mere sign of dehydration. Puck.

Now, don't judge. Have a look at your keyboard and see that gunk staring at you. I'm sure 99% of the population have dirty keyboards - so don't be pointing your germ-infested finger at Chris.

Did you know that computer keyboards may have nearly seventy times as many germs as the average toilet seat. So hey - working off the loo might be better, despite the stench that lingers up from the toilet bowl.

At least he has a sparkling clean key board now.

But then it make me think about the germs in other areas. Now I am not talking about the common areas like the tiolet or the telephone or your bed (hate to see the germs that climb up your genitalia when you've having the sex) - I am talking about other areas where you don't think of.

One of my favourite is the light switch especially when the surface becomes covered in finger marks and eventually forms a layer of gunk. See picture below. I need to paint mine black as the white shows this gunge even more. (The image below is not of mine)



This goes hand in hand with gunk on the cupboard doors. It sometimes is so hard it's like cement. Hey - that's a cheap form of cement one can use to build houses. Use dirty fingers constantly on cupboards, watch the gunge grow, then scrape off and use.

Another place is the car steering wheel.

Researchers at Queen Mary University in London have discovered there are almost nine times as many bacteria on a steering wheel than on a toilet seat. It's like smeering your bum hole on it 9 times and driving the wheel.

Fuck my car is so dirty it's like a germ incubator. I am actually surprised I am still alive.

Oh well at the end of the day - with one wipe with Sanitizer the germs will be gone.

And if not - there's always working on a toilet seat.

Family favourites

We all have those meals which our moms and dads used to cook. Those meals which were our favourites as children. Those meals, that even as a grown up, we smell and taste and it brings us back to our childhood; back to good memories... back to home.

I've just made one of those. Ginger beer chicken and mushrooms.

Passed down from my Grandfather Naas, down to Rosie, down to me. Although it was Rosie's recipe, my mom used to cook it. I had forgotten about this particular meal for some time, but with a wiff from the kitchen (when my mom was cooking it) I knew that smell. I knew that taste. I knew that memory. I was brought back to home.

Now I'm not going to share this recipe - it's a family favourite. It is to belong in the family treasure chest, just for our mouths to taste. But don't dispair, I am sure you have your own family meals. In this case, sharing is not caring.

Now I've just made it. Although, when you make it, it never tastes as good as your moms or dads cooking. But hey, it still brings back those memories.

This comes second in the list of family favourites.

The first (applause please) which goes to THE SAUSAGE AND SPAGHETTI. (Another recipe from Grandpa Naas... thank you Granddad). Now, no one is a better maker of this then Rosie. But I am a close second. This surely brings back memories of when I was a young'in.

Thank you Rosie for passing down your family favourites. I'll be sure to pass them onto my kids. From generation to generation, the SAUSAGE AND SPAGHETTI and Ginger Beer Chicken shall prevail.

It's nice to know that even though some of your family may not be around, that with a single meal, you can bring them into your home.

Can we call ourselves human?

Did you watch this or did you turn a blind eye?

Humans who stand by and watch this happen without doing anything about it are as bad as the poachers who do this. You may as well shoot the rhino yourself.

Don't give me that bullshit "It's to sad to watch, so I don't."
We'll it'll be damn sad for you when you child asks you to go to the game reserve to see a rhino and you have to witness their sad faces when you tell them they can't, as they are extinct.

"Don't worry my child, you can see them in the book."

I can't wait for 2012 to come and wash us all away. Can we really call ourselves humans?

To those overseas who read this, spread the word. Tell those heartless fuckers to stop with the demand of rhino horns. "Yes you fat fuck who sits behind your big mahogany desk and gets African poachers to do your dirty work for you - yes I am speaking to you - I'm better then you and won't curse you a thousand horrible deaths, I'll just let karma do it's work."

Please, who ever reads this and is brave enough to watch those videos - please do something. Donate something, inquire with rhino-saving organisations about what you can do.

Be human, save a rhino.

Go to www.savingprivaterhino.org or to contribute to the "SAVING PRIVATE RHINO" FUND, or for more information go to: http://www.aquilasafari.com/node/235

Suffocation by cell phone

Grateful as I am to the new technology of today - providing me with applications on my phone that allow me to sms others free of charge. But is anything free? Everything comes with a price.

Yes, it's free but I'm paying the price of suffocation... death by cell phone.

I've just discovered the new 'Whatsapp' application - used for any phones. Unlike Blackberry's which only allow you to send bbms to other Blackberry holders.

Let me put you in the picture...

I have a Blackberry. So I have BBM's. Suffocation phase 1.
I have 2 email inboxes connected to my Blackberry. Suffocation phase 2 and 3.
I have people phoning me on my Blackberry. Suffocation phase 4.
I now have Whatsapp. Suffocation phase 5.

So that's 5 different beeps and rings. 5 different beeps and rings that go off constantly.

Cooking dinner. Beep. Check phone.
Sleeping at 3am. Beep. Check phone.
Watching TV. Beep. Check phone.
On the loo. Beep. Check phone.
Driving. Beep. Check phone.

My phone is suffocating my life. I have to constantly check it, write emails and smses and answer calls. I mean, with 24 hours in a day, I spend 23 hours on my phone. It's getting beyond annoying. I'm sick to death of hearing it go off.

This doesn't even include the suffocation of phones, whereby people update their whatsapp and bbm status's and display their entire lives on their phone, even to the extent of them taking a dump. This is called Invasive Suffocation. It's a disease.

Oh wait... what luck.. my phone has just beeped whilst writing this. Wait. Check phone. ..... ..... ..... ...... Okay back on. Oh shit, there it goes again... hold on.....
...
...
okay back again.

Do you see how these stupid things called cell phones - stop you from doing what you have to do. I may as well tape this phone to my head. It'll be a new trend!

USEFUL IDEA: Count how many times your phone rings or beeps in one day. This will indicate your level of suffocation.