how old are you really?

ok, so i was reading this random nonsense on a news site. i'm not so sure how and why its meant to work or what all it means, but in the name of random i decided to post it. according to this "test" my "body age" is 32. that's 2 years than i am.

"London - You don’t need to wait for the £400 (about R4 500) telomere test - just take our eight-point quiz to work out how well your body is ageing.
To do the calculation, start with your actual age now and add or subtract years for every “yes” answer.

If you score “younger” than your real age, that means your telomeres are in good shape for a long and healthy life.

1: Do you exercise for at least 45 minutes three or more times a week? Subtract five years.

2: Do you smoke? Add ten.

3: Do you drink four or more units of alcohol (two glasses) a day. Add seven.

4: Do you sleep for between seven and nine hours most nights? Subtract five.

5: Does your waist measure less than 91cm (male) or less than 81cm (female)? Subtract five.

6: Do you take a daily supplement of 3,000mg or more of omega 3 fish oil? Subtract five.

7: Generally speaking, are you happy? Subtract seven.

8: Do you eat fried foods more than twice a week? Add three. - Daily Mail"

ROAD TO RECOVERY

I have been so quiet on blogs of late. Of course there are reasons for it all. I dont want to go too much into it, but here I'm posting a poem written by a lady I know. I think she is an awesome writer and beautiful person and this poem really brings it all together.

For the heartbroken kids out there, it will get better.

ROAD TO RECOVERY

The vehicle is not destroyed, sweet child,
your view has simply been distorted;
it is a small crack,
like a hairline in the windshield glass.

Drive slowly,
stop often to rest and look around you.

Breathe, refuel.

The journey will take its own twists,
make yourself supple for the winding road.

If you get lost I will come for you,
no matter the height of the moon,
nor the nearness of morning.

I promise you this.

©Cindy Taylor 2008

a few pictures

I really could not have been arsed to try get these photos in to any sort of order. They are just random pictures I took on my cell phone over the weekend. And what an awesome weekend it was. Debauchery on Friday evening. Friends, fund and sun on Saturday and ended the weekend off with a comedy show at the Catalina Theater. Good times I tell you… good times.

And now, it’s back to the grindstone as to say… happy Monday everybuddy.

Don’t let me fall.

I sit here on this cold, dark and rainy morning barely hanging on for dear life.

Satan manifested himself last night. In the form of merlot.

3 bottles to be exact.

And although I’m usually quite strong and handle hangovers well, this can not even be called a hangover. Fallen RIGHT over is how I’m feeling right now.

If there is any justice in this world, the work day will swallow up huge chunks of itself and release me kindly back to the comfort of my oversized lounge suit where I want to curl up under a blanket and not have to move until at least 11:30 am tomorrow morning.

This is however all my own fault and so do not expect any sympathy from you lot.

It sure would be nice though :)

perfect picture

Just recieved this picture and almost died from laughter... have a little pun wont you?

This is exactly what I would like to say to about 98% of the people I work with today.
hehe.

thursday shmursday

Urgh.
Moan.
Groan.
Sob.
Weep.
Grr.
Bite.
Gnashing of teeth.
Bawl.
Crawl.
Bash my head in on desk.
Ja.
Another day in the office…
Ja.
Baaa!

SCREAM!

BUT - in 20minutes time I'm leaving the office. And i will get over myself. My irritation. My frustration.

AND THEN - I get to see my friend :) Who I've not seen in tooooo long. Us busy people who work too much...



I foresee an evening of debauchery – much wine, the occasional joint and pizza!

Yes. The day is starting looking better already.

of peas

I just had a nice chat with my brother, we took a little trip down memory lane. He reminded me of something that happened when we lived with our grandparents for a little while. When he was five years old, my brother ran away from home because we were having peas. My gran put the plate down in front of him and David slammed his fists on the table.

"That's it! I have had it!" he muttered.He stomped over to the door, pulled on his shoes and left.

My gran and I watched him from the lounge window of the house as he set out across the yard between the house and the road, where there was a bus stop, his presumed destination.It had been raining for a few days so David only got a few meters away before his shoes were covered in mud and he started getting tired.

I remember seeing him fall and he did his best to hold his long pants up to keep it dry and tried to pull out of the sucking mud, but only succeeded in removing one of his feet from its shoe. He stood there for a moment, holding his leg up, teetering on it, aimlessly flailing his blue-socked foot in mid-air.My gran and I were in hysterics, and David must have sensed us watching because he looked over his shoulder at us. That caused him to lose his balance and he slammed his shoeless foot down into the mud. Then he pulled his other foot out of its shoe and repeated the previous teetering, dangling, flailing motions.

My gran looked at me, "We shouldn't be laugh....oooh ha ha ha ha ha."I couldn't answer because I was rolling on the floor in the joy that only an older brother could experience in this moment. When I got up and looked again, David was knee-deep with both legs, still trying to hold his pants up. And he started to cry. And then it started to rain. Hard.

My gran grabbed an umbrella and sloshed out to get him. I could hear David's wailing get louder as she carried him back to the house, the way an ambulance siren gets louder as it comes down the street towards you. Of course, I took every opportunity to mock him and make it worse.

The next day, my grandfather took him into the yard with a spade and made him dig up his shoes. Then he made sure my gran served us peas again.