I hate bush just as much as men do

I hate bush.

No, not President Bush
nor the bush found in the pubic area (I'm sure you were thinking that!)...
I hate rose bushes.

Just as a female's bush will be the suffocation of men, so will the rose bushes be the death of me.

I hate bush just as much as men do!

I live on a property where the landlords are rose-mad and God forbid if the line of white rose bushes in the front of my garden (which irritatingly block my beautiful view of the dam) die, or look odd.

They're looking odd. They're looking like someone's hair just after being electrocuted by a plug - the stalks (or properly named canes as I have learnt) are fuckén everywhere.

I have pruned (or in my mind cut with no logical direction) and hacked at these stupid plants and they're just becoming oddly shaped, crooked and bent. And no one likes anything crooked.

Now the landlords and property agent are bitching about the roses and the garden. Do I look like a 90 year old who is retired and spends her days fixing the garden and getting all wrinkled up in the sun? No. I have a life. I don't have time to be making sure that there are no leaves on the stoop, that this dead leaf is off this dying plant and that this plant is cut properly.

Do I look like fuck'en Edward Scissorhand!

Rose bushes are like high maintenance girlfriends... exhausting.

So I'll have to let the rose bushes do their own thing, let them grow and bloom and be unkempt. That's what people suggest. Sometimes its okay for things to be unkempt... well that's debatable!

If not, I'll put long blades on my hands and I'll try be Edward.. or I'll just have to get in a gardener (anyone know a gardener by the name of Edward?)

Balance

I have so much work to do... but got distracted by another blog... and decided to blog. That's what happens when you dabble in a bit of wine with the view of yachts and blogging. Damn you blogs and your stupid addiction!

In a nutshell, went to the doctor, was told I have tongue Leukoplakia (pre-cancerous cells) and have been riddled with anxiety and depression. Went to a PROPER dentist today (who didn't point a Jesus on a cross at me for being an ex-smoker) and he said I had neither. My tongue was fine, no cancer to report. Jumping around the dentist's room you would be sure that I have firecrackers up my butt. Hallelujah (As Mr Bean would sing it!).

The thing is, when someone tells you that you have a fatal disease or something that will kill you, it's like someone slapping their willy against your forehead without warning.. you become in total shock. Everything stands still and you become covered in a cloud of OH MY FUCK! It's this OH MY FUCK that turns your life around. Makes you stop doing certain things and doing others, or doing less of things and more of others. But when you're an ex-smoker, all you can think about is smoking. It's a habit and a delicious one at that. So if you don't smoke, your body is healthy but you brain is not. Who says being miserable can't affect your body? The body speaks the mind after all. So this got me thinking about balance. Balance in life is key. Too much of non-balance and you may as well fall off the cliff or the edge of the building you've been standing on for a while.

It's like too many strawberries and too little cream. It doesn't work. Too much sex will leave your vagina raw, too much drinking and you'll become the locally well-known leg spreader or drunken goose. Too much smoking and you'll get lung cancer. Too much over eating and you'll be able to hide things under your fat rolls. But people need to let go, have fun, have a juicy pastry now and then and a party here and there. We can't all live in a hole like those online gaming geeks now can we? No. That's not life and that's sure as fuck not living. Even Jesus drank wine and ate bread. And if he can do it, then so will I. But I will do it "within moderation". It's all about moderation in life, the key to life is balance.

With a scare, and a shock, I take what the Universe, or Jesus, showed me and will apply it to my life. May all of you have balance in your life. Have your custard Danish, but then have sex afterwards to burn off the calories. Have a drink now and again, but lace it with water. Mediate. Play. Work. Fuck around. But find balance in all that we do, think and say.

Here's to being the elephant that can balance on a small ball.

Driving in cars...

Lets apply the famous saying, "If a picture could paint a thousand words..." to your car.

Oh the devil beware.

My car has been around the block. She's nine years old, but has the grace and dignity of an 80 year covered in horse shit. I can not, in any means, try and excuse her outer and inner appearance on age alone. I am at fault.

Pulling out the magnifying glass...

Clue 1: It is clear by the cigarette burns on the seats of my car that she serves many a purpose. Not only as a form of transport, but also as an ash tray. The funny thing is, I am the driver of the car and there's cigarette burns on the back seat. So to those who smoke at the back of the vehicle, may I please so kindly sit in the back of your car and so carefully burn the seats WITH A BRANDING IRON!

Clue 2: Yes my car is dirty, mainly because of the dust (and because of the empty coffee cups that line the floor). But hey, I'd rather drive around in a dustbin then throw it out the car. You see... a dirty car means you are environmentally friendly. It is evident that with the tables and chairs in the back seat (even though it's a small car and it's like squeezing cheese through a keyhole) along with the laptops, books, face painting equipment and other items of different sizes that Stacey is a busy person, and one that partakes in many a things. She's also a good packer of things and could properly fit an obese person into XS spanks.

Clue 3: My car, my dear old second bedroom, has enjoyed many nights back in the day, with me passed out in it. I kept her company and she gave me a place to rest my drunken ass. Luckily there are no slobber patches or duvet covers, but the pictures of me in this comfy position will tell the tale.

Clue 4: Before I get into this clue, let me first tell you that A. I would never wear those shoes... we're not in the 1940's. 2. The chick wearing THOSE shoes would never be with a man in THOSE shoes. So, in this case... a picture tells a million lies. But back to the clue. Finger marks on the windows and a witness or two (mainly a car park guard) may tell of a few sexual actions being performed in this car, but lips are sealed. Shame, my car has played third wheel in these instances a few times. Shame, her poor eyes (or should I say head lights!)

Clue 5: Scratches against the side of the car and broken back light. This clue would naturally make one think that Stacey is a bad driver. Beep. W.r.o.n.g. This would mean that other people are bad drivers, either banging into my car and driving off, or that it was the STUPID POLES FAULT. But hey, a car always looks a bit better with a little bit of dents - it makes for uniqueness I think.

Clue 6: Broken/scratchy speakers. This would depict loud music playing, broken ear drums or heightened emotions. Yes, Stacey has partied hard in this car, listened to hard metal and hit the steering wheel when raged or deeply vexed and has sung loudly to depressing music when heart broken. My car and her once-working-properly speakers have in a sense been my therapist. Through the hard times, the good times and the fuck-off-and-die time, she's been there for me. And gratitude must also be paid to the steering wheel. I am sorry I have laid hands and fist on your, but you're resilient and can take it.

Clue 7: No treads on tyres and high km number. My car and I have travelled many a places, been through a lot, and even though you'd expect a car of her age and make - the wing wongs are known to make shit plastic cars - we're still going. Bumps and all, we're still driving on our paths creating memories.

So whilst you all are buying your zooped up new cars that are prestine inside and out, my Kia Picanto and I may not be driving in style, but we're driving with memories. And you can't put a price on that. Literally and metaphorically, she's priceless. And I love her.
So happy driving until next time, and don't forget to make memories in your car!