untill next time!

Today is the last day I will work for the year 2009.

It is also the last day I will work in the department I’m in because I’ve got a bit of a promotion and commence when I’m back in January.

I won’t be gone for too long. Just until the 4th of January – but I’m looking forward to getting away from the city for a few days.
Peace and quiet.
Game reserves, trips out on the boat.
Breakfast on the beach.
Lunch on the beach.
Dinner on the beach – heck, even sex on the beach.

Private, secluded – time out of time.

I can not wait. I’m already wishing the hours away because that’s all I need to wish away.

Be good, be merry. Be safe! Enjoy the holidays… Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Catch you all in 2010.

And to my love… happy anniversary babe :)

~Wozzel~

Oh my godsiens! I made the most wonderful discovery today. I’m so excited I want to pee in my pant.

I had to share this with you.

The local Spar (by that I mean the Spar down the road from where I work) is selling wine in a can!

A can!

A frikking can!

And it’s so pretty.

It’s pretty and it’s blue and it looks like a chickified energy drink.

So I bought the “4” pack, at R60.00 – because I had to.

So I’m a little bit tipsy at my desk pretending I’m drinking an energy drink.

Sublime.

I have a new best friend and her name is “Eve Brut” and she contains 12% alcohol.

I love Eve.

promise we'll speak at least once a week k?

The first thing I did when I got home last night was pour myself a glass of wine. I love my wine. And my wine glasses. They are beautiful. They are special. Not many people are allowed to touch them.

They are of bucket proportions and I love them dearly.

I was loving my wine glass when the cell phone rang. It was mumsy.

Mother -: sweetie? (I hate that)
Me -: Scharlotte? (she hates that)
Mother -: don’t be so rude. What ever happened to mum? Really now, I am your mother!
Me -: yes. I know. You are. Isn’t it bliss?
Mother -: are you drunk? You are being very rude. You have bad hair.

Now this is a biggie for me dear friends. A biggie. See, I know I have odd hair. It’s falling out, greying and growing in places I would rather it not. So for mumsy to say that just hurts. She know’s what buttons to push.

We spoke for about an hour. We laughed and we cried and made jokes about things. It was a good chat. The reason for this long, good chat was that my mum was calling to let me know she was on her way to her new home. She is moving away from Durban to some little town in the bundu’s a good few hours away from Durban. And I’m quite sad.

No more Saturday morning breakfasts at Beach café.
No more random brunches when she pops past work during the day.
Gone are Wednesday afternoon Merlot sessions at Cubana.

I’m really quite bleak. We have a very special relationship that old bat and I and we are very close. We spend loads of time together in gossip, discussion, debate – with wine.

She is so excited though. Like a little girl who just received the new Malibu Barbie :) so I’m quite pleased for her. And, I guess this just all means I have a new coastal holiday destination.

wine, a public holiday, visitors and that bloody bird!

The problem with having a public holiday in the middle of the week is that it kind of means you have two Mondays. I did say kind of means. It’s all the same really. As it stands, I do not have a very good relationship with Mondays. I find them mean, evil spirited creatures who have little or no regard for anything or anyone and Mondays just keeps messing with my hair.

What I do like about a public holiday in the middle of the week though is that I don’t have to go to work and I can lie around by the pool all day drinking beer and smoking a joint with my mates (it was very windy in Durban yesterday – that’s why I was by the pool and not on the beach).

Only, I’m a bit tired now because I’ve been busy since Tuesday evening when it all started with a bottle (read two) of wine.

Downfall. Moving on.

My room mate has friends over. They hail from Pretoria. Yes, I do feel sorry for them. Nice kids though. Strange thing, I can hardly follow any conversation with them. And it’s not only me! Boyfriend agrees to the same. I don’t quite get it though. I’m only 4 years older than them (room mate and her friends) making boyfriend only 6 years older than them, yet I find I really don’t quite “get” them.

Conversations ranged from talks of partying all night and taking pills to drinking all day and going to the mall. And they seem to speak a completely different language from anyone I’ve ever met.

The mall?

What is so special about a mall?

Firstly, lets just get this out of the way, I’ve had my hooligan days. Oh believe me I did. I hooliganned well I might add. I danced on all the dance floors at Truth and tramped it up at Bitch when I lived in Jozi. I put strange little pills and other things in my mouth and thought I was too cool. I shook all I have at Bronx, and was subsequently shaken right back by some cute European sounding boy and danced with fairies on the mountains while holidaying (for three months, oh I miss it) in Cape Town. And now? Its over. It’s done. I stay home and I bake cake and make yummy dinners and I smile because I’m happy and not because the medication makes me do it and I go home to the man I love and we talk about things like buying a house and whether or not we should get a dog.

So it’s strange to see these younger beings who have made home on an inflatable mattress on the floor of my living room for the next few days while they are here on holiday talking about all night parties and giving us strange looks when we say we are not joining them at the 330 party at Traxx on Friday night.

Don’t let me forget that other part. The part about the mall. Ok, so Durban has a one / two pretty cool malls, but when you are in Durban, why the heckles do you want to spend your time in a mall? This is Durban dammit, South Africa’s playground. Why not hit the beach? go run and slip and slide in uShaka Marine World? Go for a picnic at the Botanical Gardens, explore the Japanese Gardens – get lots in the Valley of a Thousand Hills?

That’s all I’m saying. Coz that’s how I roll.

As for that parrot. That parrot! I don’t know how much more I can actually take. Thankfully it is leaving. Room mate is giving the bloody thing back to her ex-boyfriend / boyfriend / ex-boyfriend currently known as new boyfriend / we actually don’t even know anymore. So on the 24th December 2009 – room mate, her parrot and her two friends from Pretoria are driving back up together and the parrot is not coming back.

Hallelujia!

Rude ass bird! Tuesday night she was hanging upside down in the cage screaming and squarking like a deranged possessed child so I shouted “shut up you spawn of satan” it looked at me and said “bitch please!”

such an arse

Last night I was such an arse! Really.
One day I will figure out how to use the washing machine.. sigh.

If it’s not flooding the entire apartment (which I have now done 3 times in the last month) It’s striking and not working.
Then there was the time I had done a large load, and when the machine sang his little song, announcing his job done, I went to unpack the machine, only to find that I had not put the clothes in (someone pass me my “you are an arse” sign)

I had 2 loads of laundry to do last night and started as soon as I got home. The first load went smoothly and I took all the clothes out, threw them in the tub and started the second. I was then distracted. A friend came over with a music DVD that I had to see. Anyway – the familiar “I’m done washing your clothes” jingle started and off I went to empty the machine so I could start getting the clothes into the drier…

See – I had put the clothes into the bath while I was watching the music videos, and forgotten that the water outlet runs into the bath. Resulting in dirty wash water gushing all over the freshly washed clothes… resulting in me doing a 3rd unnecessary load. Now I’m personally responsible for water wastage. Sigh. (Where is my “you are an arse” sign?)

Moving right along…

– I have officially received the “your internet usage is too high” lecture at work. Oops. I need to spend more time on work and not on line. I knew it would come to this.

I’m smiling today… my medication makes me do it.

Houston, we have lift off

I’ve been sick for the last 3 days and I expect sympathy.
I had the shits see.
Like really.

I was doing something rather turbo (and impressive in a “Jackass” movie kinda way) at one stage and almost levitated right into space. B.O.N.U.S! I’m better now, but that does not mean you can not stop and say something supportive like “glad your rash has healed” or “hope it is not still raw”

I get back to work today and I’ve been in and out of meetings non-stop. I’m rather tired now so I think I will go home in a minute. I’ve got a year end function to get ready for.

Oh, about the meetings. Well, first I was asked to MC at out function tonight. Which I don’t mind doing. It will be the 3rd year I’ve done it. What I do mind though is the fact that they asked me today – leaving me only 9 hours to prepare anything and get familiar with all our “special” (sic) guests. The other meeting was about my change of job description as of January 2010. Yeah, well, I’m getting a nicer sounding title and some extra moola (and loads more work) and I think I’m looking forward to it.

Boring post uh?

Oh shuttup I don’t care.

today

This was a morning of stillness and quiet.
A fresh day, waking up.
And there, dancing –
Little twirls of soft breath –
To the rhythm of my heart beating.

Gold, the colour of the sun rising,
And my arms: bathed in the reflection…
As I sit and watch the birth of a new day.

This is a new day. A new beginning, a new road.



And if life is a highway -
I’m driving a Porsche!


© wozzel 2009

sangria

Sangria. yip. Sangria.

It’s why I look the way I do today.

Sangria.

It all started innocently enough on Saturday morning after spring cleaning the house and fighting with the parrot, who I am still convinced, is Satan’s spawn. We were invited to a birthday party. Up in the mountains. That means in Hillcrest if you are a Durbanite. We call them strange folk from up there the mountain people. Beautiful area. Absolutely stunning, lushness like you have never seen before. But I digress.

So off we went, 12:30pm up the hill.

Someone made Sangria.

It was lovely Sangria.

I poured a glass for myself and one for boyfriend. He took a sip and looked at me and said “you just be careful, you know you are a half pint” I said do not fret my pet, I have this under control.

The next minute it was 11:00pm and I woke up in bed and boyfriend was watching a DVD in the lounge and the parrot was saying “bitch please – bitch please”.

those mountain people know how to make Sangira!

geckos. eek!

The thing that freaks me out the most about geckos is their rubbery tails, and their often translucent skin. And also how they have sticky little spongy feet. And they love to hang upside down from ceilings.

They gross me out.

Of course, they always fall on you. When you’re in the tub or in the kitchen opening up another bottle of wine - or while you are reading in bed - because this is obviously their primary function on earth.

To traumatise people.

I’ve heard it all. How they catch the moths and flies and roaches killing them off (which is all good in my books, eat them buggers)

But this does not give them the right to fall on me.

I shall be seeking legal advice in this regard.

The only geckos I like are those pretty ones they make from colourful beads which you can then stick on the wall or garden to pretty things up.

I’m clearly not having a gecko friendly day, but I am still smiling because I think that the bloody gecko hanging out in the bathroom got more of a fright than I did when I got out the shower and first noticed it chilling on the windowsill. His little gecko (sic) eyes almost popped out his little gecko (sic) head.

Bwahahaha!!! Screw you gecko!!!

queen of the world

I’ve been skipping (merrily) along the path known as memory lane today. Going through photographs and such. I came across this beautiful family picture. You can tell it was a long time ago. This is my grandmother's mother.


So classy and elegant. All those layers of lace and see the gloves? Such a regal expression on her face that you would be forgiven for wanting to ask if she had thrillingly improbable ancestry. She looked like the queen of the world that day.

I bet she felt that way too.

google hurt my feelings

It makes me very sad when I can’t sign into google.
We have a thing. Google and I.
A long standing relationship of sorts.

And gmail decides to crash (or as they like to say “experience technical difficulties”).

Last night, it decides to be an arse. Or I was having problems with our home internet connection but I’m blaming google.

At work, I've not been able to sign in all day untill just a little while ago.

Fuckyou google! There. I said it. Coz that’s how I roll!

I needed to vent. I’m better now.

Sorry google. I still love you.

And now, here is a list of new things. I’ve decided to call it “Wozzel’s list of new things.” It’s not a very long list. Yet. But I will keep looking for new things to add to it. I’m going to be like, the “Oprah” of blogs. And every now and again I will update you all.

Wozzel’s list of new things

My new word is uBani. You have to say it really loud and insert as squeaky a voice as humanely possible. Like that chick from the Polka advert. You remember right? You say it like this -

“uBaaaaaani?” and you can use it where ever and whenever you want really. It’s a lot of fun. I can’t get it too high though. And anyway, people might think I was gay if I did… oh, wait a minute…

My new fun way with words is to play with syllables. These are fun to add at any time. I learnt this from my nephew today while chatting to him on the phone this afternoon. At almost 3 years old, he is the only person who is able to call me “Un-ca-el Woz-a-el”

I think it’s some kind of Cantonese baby slang. I’m reading into it. While I do my research, you might find it great fun to randomly add syllables to words. Make it up as you go.

My new yummy (but not very healthy) snack. Stir-fried popcorn.

Wozzel?!?!?! What the hell is stir-fried popcorn?

I’ll tell you. No wait. I’ll teach you how to make it.

In a wok (coz wok’s rock) and add just a teeny bit of butter, a teaspoon brown sugar, 2 teaspoons honey. Melt it. Watch it go sticky and goldenly brown… mmmm…Take a cup of popped corn, and throw into said wok and sugary-honey mixture, stir-fry very quickly. Let it cool down. It turns nice and crunchy-hard. VOILA!!! Stir-fried popcorn. Who woulda thunk it? (No, this was not a “munchies” concoction. I was just feeling a tad adventurous last night.)

And that’s it.

Have an awesome day and smile dammit!

The end.

how the cockroach died

Last night I was attacked by a vicious cockroach. The boyfriend and I had just returned from playing tennis, and were getting ready to eat KFC (we figure that if we exercise, then eat junk food, it can’t be all that bad) and watch a DVD when through the door, into my face (I was in the passage) this motherfucker (sorry) (actually I’m not really) charges in!

I ask you, with tears in my eyes. WHY? Why me?

boyfriend, moving as swiftly as a Gazelle in the veld (and screaming like a hyena) jumps up, grabs a “Runners Guide” and proceeds to smack me in the face. There I am writhing in pain, with a fat red welt on my face. So I grabbed the magazine and smacked him back! Now he is convinced that he will die of a brain tumour or aneurysm caused by me smacking him upside the head.

The roach scurried away and we decided it would be better to rather go visit a friend (lest the roach call his buddies). Off to friends place and I’m still a bit traumatised so we opened the bourbon. One comedy later and some random freestyle dancing, my cell phone rings. It’s roommate and she is on her way home wanting to know if we are there and she is bringing wine. Yay! So off we go and as we get home, there’s the wine. I mean, there she is.

We get inside and we are in the house, there, in the lounge, sitting on my moose (another story that’s too complicated to explain if you’re a first time reader) is the cockroach the size of a 3 year old human child. It jumps. I scream. Boyfriend backs out the front door; roommate walks over and squashes the roach under her sexy black shoes.

Grabs the monster by a twitching leg and flushes it down the loo.

And that is how the cockroach died.