Ho Ho Ho and a Bucket of ...

Growing up I always imagined what it would be like to have a white Christmas. Now 26 years later, my imagination is complete. The snow covers the rooftops, friends turn into bears and shopping malls become your only life line. I'm not so sure the idea of being snowed in is what it's made out to be. Call me a cynic but a beach, cold bruskie and my mates seems a lot more appealing than chapped lips, no power and schools closed. One thing about the States, the weather and special occasions leading to Winter is dramatic.

Fall isn't called Autumn and I'll tell you why. It's called Fall because there's Sh(*)* literally falling everywhere. Oath you could have a flying pig land on your head and it wouldn't surprise me. I once went for a walk and came home sporting a habitat for a hairdo. Leaves, twigs and tiny mice. Even more scary though is Halloween. Celebrated in true fashion of pumpkins and skeletons, no one trusted this African with a knife so instead of carving my own I simply observed and here is what I saw. For the young it's cool to walk around your hood scoring some sweets but for ladies 19 to 35 it's time to wear your sexiest porniest (that words exists as of now) lingerie and score a little more than a sweetie. I went out to a club that night and had 5 ghosts, the wrong kind of Superman and a giant banana asking for my African digits. Needless to say I found neither attractive.

And then there's Thanksgiving. No doubt it's a time to eat but for a change it's not Mac Donalds. I'm talking a green bean and onion dish, Mamma's mash potatoes and some big 'ol bird whose probably been injected with hormones that would make a 5yr old hit puberty. Nevertheless I chose to spend this day working for the dollar. I cycled 45 minutes to wash 36 dishes for A Greek American Caucasian whatever family and scored 100 bucks. Can you imagine telling a South African you'd make R800.00 to wash a couple dishes... You'll agree with me when I said "Sure Bru!" No doubt I put my pride in my pocket because let's face it, being a dishwasher is not the ideal job madam.

So it's a week until Christmas, and I'm dating several men pretty seriously. My morning boyfriend Spongebob makes me giggle and sharing my Frosties has never felt fuzzier. After lunch I turn to re-runs of Mac Dreamy to check on my heart beat and at night I fancy a bit of One Tree Hill with Chad Michael Hurry On Over!

Considering we live in a cyber world these days, here's my Christmas wish to you all

To the Waka Waka Africans: Walk outside and bask in that glorious sun. Become the lounging lizard, sink your teeth into that choppie and say Lekker soos n Krismis Krekker!

To the Bustling Londoners: I bet it's gloomy, dull and wet so best you walk around with mistletoe 24/7 and entertain your long johns.

To anyone, everyone and those in between:

Experiencing cabin fever and loving you from afar...
Have a Merry Lil Christmas and a better brighter 2011!

xoxox

It's my Party and I'll cry if I want to!

Birthdays older than 25, are poep scary!

Number 1)
Living in an age of cyber space, you'll wonder "Who is going to wish me?"
Gone are the days where you receive cards in the post, or a sticky jam note from your school buds. Nope. It’s all over now. Instead switch on your computer and see who sent you a “secret gift”, flashing cake or skype “bear hug”. Yes Jesus Facebook has taken over.

Number 2)
You’re no longer in your early twenties. It’s time now to get a damn job and...
“For heavens sake Stacey, stop dancing on bar counters!”
(by that I mean not every Friday night).

Number 3)
It’s time as a tick tocking woman to ponder on the idea of settling: And by ‘settling’ I mean the scary words, “P”, “M” ‘n “J”. Screw P.M.S because Pregnancy Marriage and Job are stifling. I get hives just putting them together in one sentence.

Number 4)
Nobody wants to play with me. I want to play the sack race, balance an egg on a spoon and put my face into a bucket of icy water to pick out the apples. Only difference is now I want the flour to be replaced with red red red wine! (Give me horns I don’t care)

Number 5)
Yes it’s true, the mirror has changed. Somehow my usually well tanned smooth skin resembles the myth of a crocodile. He’s not completely there, but the sneaky buggers got his tail slightly out the water. Kind of waving at me going….

“Hellllloooooo… yes it’s me Mr Crocodile. And soon I’ll be all over your face like a ripple in a tide wave!”

Number 6)
I’m on a self journey away from home. Missing a smooth Savannah, a munchable bag of Niknaks, a warm cuppa Milo, sweet Rooibos, dunkable Ouma, spicy Mrs Balls… oh yes and of course my family and dearest friends! You know… the ones who will sing the ‘Bee Gee Sus’ with you until 3am blind drunk contesting to see whose got the tightest undies.

Number 7)
What’s love gotta do with it? Please ask Tina Turner and get back to me. I’m very confused as to why I feel the need to hear from lovers lost. The one I was meant to marry… not a word. The one who said he loved me before I left, not a squeak. And the one who I met here…..a wall post?! Come on Tina, surely I’m simply the best right?

At the end of this day and for all those 7 superficial reasons, it comes down to one. One comforting reason I hold onto: 26 years ago... My Mother became my Hero! Flying out of that warm place, weighing 1kg and a couple of smarties, I was born with water on my lungs and dubbed E.T for my beauty. So stuff thinking “who/what/where/when” just being here, wherever… is enough.

Let's raise our glasses for a toast...

To the mothers : Your baby will always see You as their Hero.
To the single ladies: Your P,M 'n J will happen, give it time.
To the married, settled and pregnant: You're on the right track but slow down, you're making me feel old!

xoxo

Don't text me fool! Tie a ribbon to my door...

I watched Spanish theatre last and thank God there were subtitles otherwise I would have sat there like a banana waiting to be peeled! The story was tragic, sweet and went something like this:

Boy sees girl at fair and falls in love. Girl sends messenger to tell boy that she will tie a ribbon to her door so that he can woo her. Some douche bag comes and takes the ribbon and when boy gets there he sees random dude with ribbon and feels set up. In the end they still don't end up together. He dies and she cries. Sad, very sad and the whole way through I kept thinking "If they just had cellphones this could have been prevented!?" He would have texted, "Hey Babe" she would have replied, "What's up" and they would have met up for a KFC rounder and lived happily ever after. I say this so matter of fact because the honest simple thing in their story was their love.

Nowadays communication is made possible in every form yet love is the confusing and misleading factor. And on that note, here is some wasted poetry I feel compelled to share... .

Turning from the sound
And getting closer to yours
I saw you standing there
Holding the key to my doors

Grinning cheek to cheek
Getting lost in banter
I'm slowly mesmerized now
Turning even faster

You looked at me
Made your way to the door
But that's OK now
Guess I knew you'd be back for more

Coz it's a moment in time
A place I'd like to rest
The reasoning in all the madness
The heart still beating in my chest

So turn me on
And treat me right
Be the one I hold tonight
Coz tonight is forever
Our place called Never

You're never alone and never without
Don't let me be or become your doubt
We're here today, gone tomorrow
I'm turning in circles
With you babe I'll follow

But hold back now leave me behind
Fake the truth
And rewind my mind

So go ahead and be the man
Be the plan I understand
I wave good-bye and wish you well
Too bad I'm sad
And sorry I fell...

Bonk me Now!

It's been a long time since I had a bonk! And by bonk I mean to sit down and make love, caress and tantalise the keys of my laptop.

Since stepping foot in the United States, my life has gone up and down. I came here to follow the dream- to further my studies in the Artsy Farts and to travel far and wide before I'm old, barefoot and pregnant in sombody's kitchen.

But please! Call me your toe-curling roller-coaster because nothing has gone accordingly. Landing in San Francisco, I moved in with a family who insisted I medicate their eldest child. When I say 'medicate' I actually mean sedate. Imagine a little girl, not even a teen, drooling at the mouth from side effects and suffering from permanent constipation. Not even Brooklax could save this child.

Anyway point being she was taking anti pshycotics and other prescribed meds for autism, bipolar and tourettes. Scarily so I was being held liable for this. Tip for aliens living in the US: Don't hold yourself liable for somebody else other than your ex boyfriend. So you ask, what's a girl like me to do? Get the FU)*! out? Yes of course that's what I did. I ended up, as some of you know, living with friends I made in a bar, and had two weeks to find a different American home to become apart of.

I found one. Yes I did. And oh boy, it has been from one extreme to the next. I am no longer living with the Bride of Chucky, but I am living in disarray. These families are supposed to feed you. Mind don't. They are supposed to be pay for you to go with them on their vacation. They didn't. I live in a cave and the only way to see my toes at night is to try and stumble on my flashlight. Whilst writing this, I'm lying on a hard floor, thinking of a cold Savannah and missing MY people. To all you South Africans back home, sometimes the grass can be avo-poo green. I have had a sock slapped through my face. Not only have I've been threatened to leave "because I know where the door is" but most recently I have been accused of stealing vodka?! As If! I'm so Clueless to the point where this has all become hilariously funny.

I went to New York, ate my Italian pasta. I went to New Jersey and swam in the sea. I cycled across the Golden Gate Bridge and I watched the fireworks outside the White House on July 4th. But I still haven't been to Vegas.

Most memorable moment of late? Watching the Parlotones in a little club in D.C. There were about twenty South Africans, singing, laughing and chatting about how nothing and or nobody compares to the beauty we own. Our sense of humour is contagious, our accents are fokkin duidelik and we know how to chug on a beer. We don't care for processed cheese and unruly kids. We hate 10 lanes of traffic. We despise people who think they are the next Obama and we really would fancy a cup of gooooooooood English Breakfast Tea.

Since coming here I see my computer as my lover. Let's call him Bruce. Bruce is my connection to you back home and to those who are on similar missions. He's my friend anytime of the day. When I wake up in the morning I switch ol Brucey boy on, pour some coffee (sometimes on him, grrr...) and I touch bases wherever I can.

When I come home late at night after drinking lots and lots of red wine, I switch Bruce on and feel at peace. Although Bruce offers little warmth, there is nothing a hot water bottle cannot do. And with the colder season on its way perhaps I've just decided on my next buy! Don't get me wrong, I am making the most of this experience. So I'm hanging in, with my mate Bruce and a couple others I've been lucky enough to meet.

I may be moving again for the third time in 6 months. You would SWEAR I was an actress with all this 'drama drama' going on?! Yes blondie, that was rhetorical...

So on that note, I'm loving you from here, missing your voice and thinking how good a boerie roll would be right about NOW.

Peace, Love and FU&^^* ing Mac Donald's, here's wishing you a great week-end!

xoxo

P.S I hope you like my bonkable image coz Bruce loves it!

Two sides to every pancake, place and person!

Close your eyes and picture the word Philly . (And not just the oh-so yummy cheese shown in pic)

Besides for this glorious creation that tastes better with after-work-wine and Wellingon's Sweet Thai Chilli Sauce it's also what the locals and everybody else in the USA refers to as the city of Philadelphia. Except for Bruce Springsteen that is, who sang about the 'streets of Phillllllll....a...delphia'. It actually got me thinking. Why would my man Bruce choose to sing this song?

To understand Bruce's inspired reasoning for this, all you have to do is head straight down to South Street. Bustling with skinny jean boys, blue-haired girls and tattooed unique people, I can now wondrously tap to his rhythmic blues.

Best way to decribe it would be walking into a time warp of punk-rock, infused with bolts and spiky gaydom! For most part I ,wearing shorts and a T-Shirt felt very out of place. For a while I even contemplated walking into a hairdresser and insisting on a green mo-hawk. Conservative does not play a part with three sex shops right next door to each other and with names like Condom Kingdom and Spermy Sperm, the competition is rife. I'm convinced every punk rocking dude and dudette were planning a lubed evening with straps, vibrating bits, bobs and beads only the Devil In Disguise would know where they fit!

Truth be told, if I ever had a child, there would have to be a determined age restriction to walk down South Street. Not only are there influential shops to contend with but if Junior were anything like me, the crazy euphoria would be chocolate-cake tempting. (evil grin)

On the contrary head north toward the main part of town and the transformation would hit you in the face like a cold chunk of seabass! After all citizens, this is where the Liberty Bell sleeps at night and symbolises all that America stands for- freedom of choice and more chunky seabass!

Feeling "liberated" and walking into a replica of a mid 1900's church hall I still couldn't stop thinking about those damn beads! Furiously switching my focus and trying hard to concentrate on 'The Now' I came across a glass-eyed bearded man in a suit. Wearing an even funnier shaped hat and neat bow-tie, he looked like a character from Doctor Quinn Does Dallas! Nodding dutifully and looking down like a dutiful dairy maid, this man began to explain his religion of Quakerism. He started off slowly in a very monotone voice and soon after I felt hypnotised, traumatised and intrigued!

And so the quirkiest man from 19 - footsak began ...

" 'Quakerism' (clears throat) stands for 'equality' in humankind, 'peace' for the nation and 'simplicity' in one's lifestyle."

Yes Dr Quin of Quakerism as far as I'm concerned, it also depicts women who wore aprons and bonnets All DAY LONG! Furthermore (clearing my throat) it also stands for boring men who saw expression as a weakness. Let's be serious boys and girls, if we look really closely at this era and belief all I see are barefoot women milking 'em cows and making mamma's butter ya 'all!

Indulging in the word "liberated" even further I ran up the same steps as legend Rocky Balboa. Side stepping and punching jabs, I was finally in tune with Stallone and just thankful that those beads were no longer on my mind! And when I reached the top of those famous steps, I even raised my arms in triumph like a true F.T.

The day came to an end with a famous Philly Cheese Steak. It took over an hour to reach the 'sailor hat cheesy grin' and best part was, it was over 35 degrees- more humid than the hottest Durban curry your Aunty Miriam could EVER muster.

Philly, Philadelphia, Phillaaaaaa...delphiaaaa, whichever your preference is one peculiar 'ghetto/historic/punk-rocking' place.

All this in a cookie jar supports the fact that there are always two sides to every pancake, place and person. Don't be fooled, after much thought on the word "liberation" I believe the quirky Quakerers had something (if not everything) to do with the variety of those damn South Street beads!

abbreviation for F.T? Fu*&(&^! Tourist... !

Monologues- the one's I like!

I slept in a hammock on Friday night. Sounds perfect right? It would have been if I was on a beach in Costa Rica sipping on a sultry Sex On The Beach. Except I had been locked out of my apartment, it was 15 degrees and my Friday night 'tight-ass' jeans proved to be less than comfy sleeping material.

I did try break into my place for about an hour. I stuck my arm through the mail slot and now have blue-green bruises to show for it. I don't know if this has ever happened to you but being locked out of your familiar environment can prove to be very stressful. At one stage my arm even got stuck in the slat and I cried out of desparate frustration!

Waking up with tear-filled eyes and sporting a small hangover, I finally made it indoors and slept for a solid 5 hours. After rising from this nightmare I realised the importance of a well deserved laugh. And boy, did I find it!

Marijuana-logues (click on link to watch a clip from The Bill Maher Show) was written and first performed on Broadway in 2004. This ridiculously humorous show discusses the rites and rituals of the good 'ol herb. It starts off the same way Vagina-monologues does and so by repeating the word "marijuana" three times to bring their subject into the forefront, you know these guys are going to be a good laugh. Well that and the fact they chose to perform a block away from the White House and in the Shakespeare Theatre Company's Auditorium?!

These impressive artists start off by saying how people in society worry about Marijuana just like them, except for different reasons. These guys worry about finding more Marijuana. They worry if they can't get hold of their "Marijuana guy" and especially if their "Marijuana guy's" mom doesn't know where he is?

The performers I got to see in action are all stand up comedians, television producers and have been hot on the market in NYC and LA. By the 10th minute, I'm crying I'm laughing so much. The cannabis culture is prevalent here, even sitting in Obama's back yard! According to this bunch, Thomas Edison must have been high as a kite to come up with electricity, buzzing from highness to think something so electrifying. And here's a "fun fact", without raisins Ladies and Gentlemen, the Gingerbread Man would indeed be blind.

Although my evening ended off a sober one, I went home thinking how lucky I am to be watching talented folk talking openly about something illegaly hilarious. And then it got me thinking, if I'd had some of this cannabis they're talking about maybe just maybe, my hammock adventure on Friday night would have been alot more enduring!

I dont' know, legalise it or not, it would be pretty damn funny seeing our principals, presidents and librarians toking it up. The only time I've come across it very openly in the States was during my brief stay in California. One quiet Tuesday evening I was out at a local bar and some dread-locked smelly dude lead me to a mysterious bench (he quited liked the fact I was African).
Anyway arriving at this irie bench, he told me to lean in real close and check it out properly. Little did I know, this bench I'd been sitting on for the past two weeks had a built-in-bong! With a hole in the top slat and a pipe leading to the outside edge, many a Californian hippie passing by, fill up this bench and suck in the earthly silence around them.

Did I try the bench you ask? Well they do say when in Jamaica um I mean Rome... yeah whatever... besides for that random ocassion, I'd say Obama is sleeping with one eye open on such tranquil paraphenalia and I'm observing honourably!

Peace to my 'Route' readers nothing like the BTG. For those against munchies, the giggles and extreme paranoia that's fine too, aint nobody judging!

P.S Damn I miss Nik Naks!

xoxox

There is a Man upstairs and He controls everything!

Sitting in a pretty little park, my plan on Sunday was to vegetate and listen to nifty dudes banging on a couple bongo drums- unfortunately they looked nothing like Mathew Mcconaughey! Anyway whilst dreaming about shirtless 'Mat and staring into the sky I noticed the angry clouds gathering and forming a picture nothing like the one in my fantastical head.

Mind you I was relieved with the idea of it raining as before this surprising event took place it was about 42 degrees celcius and I had just experienced that your eye-balls really do sweat! Luckily I'm not a man because I'd hate to think what their kind of balls were doing. Quickly to change the subject and your pattern of thought, I then got a text message from the National Weather Service that read the following:

"WARNING: An expected Tornado in the Montgomery County
(yes, me!) and any person outdoors (yes, me again!) should seek cover. This is a life threatening situation that may lead to cause of death."

Oh fantastic! I'm stuck in a park dreaming about my future lover and this happens? I had two options: run like Forest to the nearest coffee shop or to someone's apartment. Everyone I was with was from Spain and naturally they were rambling in Spanish- sadly my Buenos Dias, Buenos Tardes and Buenos Noches was not good enough in this critical conversation. Following their lead and saying a quick confession we reached someone's apartment drenched to our knickers featuring Dracula-mascara. It turns out "someone's" apartment, was a beautiful Spanish man with smiling eyes and for a split moment there was a connection between us and I thanked God for the tornado!

Maybe the Man upstairs had to lead me there as part of my journey or alternatively one can look at the geographical causes and believe that tornadoes deveop due to warm, moist air in advance of eastward-moving cold fronts. Either way it's a force of nature and I'll settle for that :) Like a couple of homeless drowned rats, I batted my Dracula eyes and waited ever-so-patiently for the storm to pass.

At last when it was safe to go out, we said our "Gracias and Muy Bien's" and I blushed into the quietness after a perfect storm... .

Yes I live my life like a movie and maybe our paths will never cross again but there's a little thing called Hope and if you have Faith in that mysterious Man upstairs, time will only tell.

Getting back to these incredible forces of nature, just less than a month ago there was an Earthquake in the area?! True story. It reached a magnitude of 3.6 being the heaviest and highest record since 1976. This time instead of sitting in a park dreaming about Mat, it was 5am during the week and I was dreaming about Ducky Waddles.

In fact I never felt a thing and ironically so being in a basement is the worst place to be. Maybe the Man upstairs is trying to wake me up? Who knows, rhetorical or not- I'll be waiting for my next sign. Perhaps a Tsunami will do the trick!

With regards to last weeks story, Lindsay is reportedly being sent to rehab after her jail stint. Although she was to serve 90 days behind bars, they're now reducing her sentence to this Sunday because of 'jail over-crowding.'

I wonder when she will begin to listen to the Man upstairs?

Have a great week and be on alert to underlying signs in the forces of nature!

*For topical reference, watch "The Invention of Lying"- great movie showing Ricky Jarvais as a witty and incredibly honest man!

Sipping Gin and Juice

Here's a story about music in the land of repitition!

Everytime I get into my car, I do the following: Adjust thy hoodie, fasten seatbelt, apply sunglasses, lean back and head pop- just like my friend Lindsay!

Now usually I'd have to say I was never into the whole 'gangsta' way of driving but in the US it's kind of fun. Tuning into the sterio and saying Good Morning Vietnam to HOT 99.5 Washington DC's hottest music I can safely sing the lyrics to every pop song off the market! Why? Because they play the same songs day in and day out. Forget thinking that 5fm overplays your favourite banging hit- in fact I miss waking up to Gareth being anal and offensive!

Now if you're anything like me with my music, you're going to switch between two or three radio stations depending on your mood. Back home I often bounce between 5, for when I'm feeling frisky and Kfm, when I'm in an 'emo/ Dutch' state of mind. (no idea what that means) Anyway point being I now found myself bouncing between commercial pop, 99.5 and heavy rock 101 "point" eat your dog and $%# your mother! It's ridiculous. Not only am I a vision to look at but consequentially I've formed a split driving personality.

Picture this:

Listening to 99.5 I look like Ben Stillers wife in Heartbreak Kid- he finally gets hitched to a blonde babe and whilst road-tripping to a romantic Hawaiian honeymoon, she sings NON-STOP with an imaginative bugle in hand!(Yeah, that'd be me!)

Contrastingly so, like a needle to an obese porcupine, the moment I switch over to 101 "point" eat your dog and %^%&^ your mother, I end up right up on my dashboard, ready to bang my head against the steering wheel- just like my friend Lindsay?!

As of recent it's best to call me your 'teen-bopping psychomatic, addict insane.' (Still love my Prodigy)

But here's to you... Dave Matthews, Colbie Calait, Ben Harper, my good 'ol drinking buddie Jackie Johnson and of course Mrs Robinson for that matter- please know I'll be seeing you soon and I apologise for my latest musical antics!

For my fellow musicians and all those who dig to know what's happening on the forefront, I created a list for you to check out. Let me know how similar the world in music really is- I'm intrigued to know!

So without further a-hippity-hop, here is a list of the top ten hits being played over and over and over and.... and.... you guessed it, OVER again!

Top Ten Hits (commercial pop/rock)

- California Gurls by Katy Perry
comment: I'll keeping sipping the gin and juice! Just beware for the annoying Jeep "hoot" in the song, I keep thinking somebody is up in my grill getting nasty.

- Airplanes by B.o.B
comment: yes yes I really could use a wish right now, a wish right now!

- Un- thinkable by Alicia Keys
comment: All the men in my life, except my Father, have truly proven to be 'Un-thinkable' species known to man-kind.

- Cuando Me Enamoro by Enrique Inglesias and Juan Luis Guerra
comment: makes me want to drink tequila, dance on a bar counter and be with my girls. Bless Enrique, even he too is a collaborating artist.

- Alejandro by Lady Gaga
comment: it's catchy and gets stuck in your head even when you reach your nightly bubble bath but other than that I have nothing more to say to this pantless creature who is taking over Oprah's space on the Forbes list.

- Break Your Heart by Taio Cruz
Chorus: "I'm only going to break break, break break break your heart."
comment: No Comment!

- Haven't Met You Yet by Michael Buble
Comment: My brother's favourite! Oath he would assasinate ol Bubble Boy if he could!

- Billionare by Travie Mccoy and Bruno Mars
Comment: blah blah blah, although I wouldn't mind smiling next to Oprah and the Queen.

- Omg by Usher/ Will.i.am
comment: I'd be digging this tune in a club :P

- Not Afraid by Eminem
comment: Even Eminem pulled his Sh^$* together so why can't Lindsay or Britney?

Give them a listen, tell me what you think and if you get sick of these tunes too and you're feeling like my friend Lindsay and I, let me know. If anything I'll go knock on Obama's door to confront this important head-banging matter- especially considering he lives 20 km's away!

Keep rocking with a splash of peace, love and Mac Donalds

xoxox

P.S True story: Lindsay's in jail thinking of how to "come-back and be Not Afraid" just like Eminem!

I'm a legal Alien... I'm an international U.W.O!

Explosions everywhere, an array of colours filling the sky and Americans skoffing hotdogs and ice-cream- this is how I will remember the 4th of July 2010.

Celebrating Independence Day whilst watching fireworks with the White House to my right and National Monument in the foreground, made it a super surreal and unforgettable evening. This annual celebration and national holiday marks the time where America broke free from the United Kingdom, delcared their supreme individuality and therefore making it perfectly clear that any person, other than a U.S citizen is an alien and U.W.O aka unidentified walking object.

Understandbly so, we all know the reasons for their tight security, paranoia and alienation qualities but for those still wishing to experience what a true U.W.O feels like I encourage you to visit the United States of Be Afraid!

Whether you're flying to NYC for business, Miami for a hot date or San Fran for a baby shower, the officers insist on seeing you traipse through the checkpoints naked. Yes, I mean take off your shoes, socks, belt, jacket, earrings and get rid of lighters, pens, small change, tweezers and anything in your pockets. Please make sure your lap top is out of its case, open it, smile and proceed to the arch. But beware- if you are female and wearing a pretty floral dress for the baby shower or a leopard micro-mini for your man(grrrr) keep your arms by your side and your legs closed. The wind blowing device, or whatever it's called, will only satisfy those sweaty lapdogs waiting behind you. On the contrary if the man behind you is cute and looks like Orlando Bloom, then I say "Keep your arms above your head, turn and pout!"

It is an absolute mission to fly however this mandatory task has proven to be good exercise for us girls. I've been told by fellow U.W.O's to imagine clenching a quarter between your butt cheeks whilst holding your breath and sucking in your tummy for 30 seconds. If that doesn't tickle your fancy, you can opt for the 'constipation-carrot- up- bum look!' The latter I don't recommend as the officials will believe you are hiding something inside of you, resulting in a thorough body check with the nasty white glove!

Another act you dare not do in the U.S is 'drink and drive' (except Pepsi to go along with your Mac Donald's diet). Now I know nobody should 'drink and drive' but if you are South African... I rest my case. I will even be brave enough to admit that back home I've driven when I shouldn't have. For example at many a religious book club, I would giggly klap a glass or three, eat an Engen 24 pie on the way home and be in bed by 12pm whereas here I wouldn't dare to lick a drop, even if it were the last drop known to alien man-kind.

Just the other night, I decided to go out to a bar in San Fran on my bicycle. This way I imagined being 'out-of-sight'. I drank 3 drinks, indulged in a shot and proceeded to dance just like my BFF, Britney Spears.(I do love a pole!) Walking out of the club feeling tipsy yet vigilant, I waved a 'cheerio' to a bunch of admirers, put on my helmet like a good little alien and headed home.

A couple of minutes later I encountered not one but two cop cars blearing their sirens and pulling me off the road with a loudspeaker. Having a panic attack with a heart rate of a hummingbird, I got off my bike removed my geeky helmet and introduced myself like the Queen of England- being British seemed alot safer than South African? After showing my passport and then having to explain my British heritage, I was asked to hand over my social security number, drivers license, physical address and reason for being in the States and finally whether or not I should be 'operating' a moving device. "Yes Sir! No Sir! Three Bags Full Sir!" And thankfully I was sent home.

Don't be fooled by the word 'crime' in the U.S, it is serious and will not be laughed off in court. Jay-walking is a crime even if you are in a hurry and there are no cars. Smoking in most public areas is a crime and the penalty fine is $10 000 or jail. Having an open beer or passenger drinking in your car is a crime with a fine and/or loss of your license. So before putting foot on American soil, here are just a few small points I'd like to share with my fellow aliens.

"No person on or in any facility or conveyance shall:

*litter, dump garbage, liquids or other matter, create a nuisance, hazard or unsanitary condition (including, but not limited to, spitting, or urinating, except in facilities provided).
*sleep or doze where such activity may be hazardous to such person
engage in any form of gambling
*create any sound through the use of any sound production device."

In lamens terms- you're not allowed to have a little dos, play Texis Holdem Poker or gooi your banana peel! And so help you God, if you do choose to participate in these misdemeanors, get a lawyer and prepare for your own exclusive episode of CSI.

I'll end off by highlighting how great I felt on the 5th of July when reading a news article that went something like this...
"Paris Hilton- arrested in a place called Port Elizabeth, South Africa, for posession of marijuana".

And then sadly my smile dissipated as a I read the following day,
"Paris Hilton, let off for smoking Marijuana in a place commonly known as P.E."

P.S How I wish I had a vuvuzela!

Sea Sick for You

For those who have been reading my blogs, thank you! Some of you, being my best mates in the world will also know that I've been quiet lately. I've put it down to the fact that falling off the planet seems a lot easier than treading lightly.

Through all this ridiculous mahem of uncertain change, family heart-break, loss and organised chaos I have maintained one feeling through it all, sea-sickness. And no! To all of my theatrical beings out there, it was never pregnancy as that would indicate Mary and I have way too much in common! So if I can really put you into my picture, place yourself slap bang in the middle of the sea (choose ur spot in piccie!) There's not much ahead and very little behind. It's just you, unfortunately Leo didn't make it for this ship, and worst of all you can't find any crackers to distract the upset. Apparently ginger bread biscuits help too but I'm not really into ginger, if you know what I mean:)

Anyway for those wondering, how is lil Stace? I'm temporarily unavailable, on a boat experiencing intermittant waves of salty sea-sick nausea- yes, a traffic light not turning green is as if a 10ft wave is heading for my floating device! Although it sounds strangely dismal, I will also say that every now and then I have come across something pleasantly surprising in this murky water and have even met a random bird who 'stopped by just to say hello'.

So just give me some time and I'll steer my way to land again.
God knows I'll make it home for Macaroni and Cheese and Carte Blanche (either that or I'll Eat Pray Love my way to the end!)

For those sitting there thinking, "What the carrots is she talking about?"

If I love you, and you're happy
I'll smile.
If you're sad, and you're upset
I'll cry.

It's in my nature
to feel what you're feeling too
And if anything
I'm sea-sick for you...

Another 'West End' story

It was your average Monday morning, I'd just finished observing my pearly whites when suddenly I was asked to "step into the office" *Please note* this bitter confrontation took place very shortly after my honest concern for a very a concerning matter!

Walking into it blindly like a race-horse still needing to pee, I assumed it was my normal routine check up where the dentist usually just probes and plucks. This however was not the case so you can imagine the heat rising in my ear, throat and nasal cavaties when acknowledging I was about to have root canal treatment on all four molars without the essential numbing brilliance of anaesthesia.

With my new found knowledge of Rihanna's "Disturbia," I had my bags packed within 47 minutes and am now minus some of my favourite shoes (including my peep-toes) I can still visualise rolling out of that toxic situation therefore with or without my shoes, there will no doubt be everlasting footprints in a Californian malfunctioning home. Call it whatever you will but when things go bad and it tastes like a sweating donkey just off-loaded in your mouth, I say "release, reverse, divert and run!"

Yes the "West End" came to my surprise too and for the past 3 weeks I have been wrestling for an answer as to why it all happened. The only understanding I have is that sometimes expressing yourself and searching for honesty in people can often lead to a downward-tunnel of comforting ice-cream and sad love songs.

The people who smile at you, are not always smiling beneath. The ones you think will be there for you when your life turns upside down, are not always the ones that pull you out of the dumpster. Unfolding the truth may bite you where it hurts and for your protection the less you express yourself can save you from feeling rejected, unloved and mistreated. As women we feel it is in our nature and purpose to give, speak, help, nurture, share and survive but quite honestly it can also leave you feeling misunderstood and broken-hearted.

For example the last time I told someone "I Love you," I chose to do it while he was lurching off the side of the boat- (you gotta love being sea-sick) Anyways I chose this moment because he was undoubtedly vulnerable and let's face it, if someone "loved" you while you were lurching off a boat, wouldn't hearing those 3 words for the 1st time be soothing?

Point being, be careful when you express anything until such a time you are prepared to fall 100 stories without a comforting trampoline to cushion your sexy ass. Think before you speak, trust your instincts and sometimes it really is best to say nothing at all!

Call me a cynic, I don't care- when it comes down to it, it's the one's who are always there, come rain or shine that will persist lovingly in your future.

And like with every end in every story comes a new beginning, so from the West to the East, I say a silent hello... .

The Fruit in You

The year of 2010 is all about being organised. For some a simple phrase "being organised" may come naturally but I'll admit it's a an on-going battle of self destruction and denial.

Here's a definition of one word that gives me re-occurring nightmares: (think Bride of Chucky)

rou·tine
1. A prescribed, detailed course of action to be followed regularly; a standard procedure. ie in my terms: brushing your teeth, making money, running a household and maintaining relationships.

Being a performing artist, free-lance writer and free-spirited travelling soul just made this pre-requisite a whole lot harder! In fact I find the word and definition of routine similar to having root canal treatment. (Bless my dentist- he now pleads that I listen to my I-pod during consultations to avoid a look of rigamortis!)

Now I'm sure you've established gym is part of a healthy routine but how many of us hate the thought of it, eventually get there and see how quickly we can get through our routine only to make it home in time for Oprah and a religious 6pm glass of wine? I'll put my hand up because I am the Queen of this exercise as well as thinking highly intellectual thoughts whilst attempting to work out a sweat.

Yesterday I was running diligently on the treadmill, and my mind wandered with the idea of people who attend this man-made place of boredom. Dreaming of lunch I began to see other gym rats as slivers of sterotypical fruit.

Carrots are the annoying girls with high pony-tails, usually on a stepper machine bobbing their head side-to-side. Attempting solitary existence however extremely aware of bulging boy on the "Look at Me" spinning bike. These girls, are larger on the top and smaller on the bottom. (most other female fruits don't like carrots)

Pine-Apples are men on the "Look at Me" spinning bikes, sporting a wad of Revlon 'out of bed' wax. Spiky around the edges, they're sometimes sweet yet sometimes bitter- here's a man that's hard on the outside and usually a little juicy too. Not always easy to cut up and get to know, he'll be a mystery and it can get messy.

Banana's on the other hand need no description however when I see one, I blush like a cherry and run in the opposite direction. These dudes wear Spandex, and pack extra socks in their gym bag.

Watermelon's are my favourite. Yes they're big and they tend to roll and cause vibration, but they're fun, larger than life and loyal. You can always count on them. The only downside are the pips, but it's fine because spitting them out can be fun too. (know idea where that one was going)

Apples are reliable- the one's that are always there, doing their thing. They're old, young, bruised and come with different shades of personality. There's nothing like a crispy, juicy mouth-watering apple but then again you never know until you get your teeth really stuck in. Somtimes apples are disappointing, although you think it's going to be a good one, often it never is. Apples are everywhere and probably the most common.

Mangoes come and go, they're good to some and slimy to others whilst litchi's are exotic, great for going on road-trips with and fun to peel and get to know.

I could go on but thank goodness my 20 minutes are up on the treadmill and there's a scary banana looking at me with haste! Sit-up here, sit-up there... 1kg weight...up down 1,2,3... phew! Whatever, I'm over it- yes routine is my on-going battle.

Leaving gym in a hurry I've decided baking is an important step in accomplishing order- it requires the exact amount of ingredients and careful preparation for a successful and tasty outcome. Surfing the net, I find a lovely recipe on " Chocolate Zucchini Bread" and I'd recommend you all put your aprons on for this one!

2 squares unsweetened chocolate
3 eggs
2 cups sugar
1 cup vegetable oil
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 cups flour
1tsp baking soda
1tsp salt
1tsp ground cinnamon
handful of choc chips

Preheat oven to 180 degrees and grease 2 loaf pans. (9X5 inches)
Melt choc squares in the microwave and stir occasionally until smooth.
Grab a big mixing bowl and gooi in your eggs, sugar, oil, grated zucchini, vanilla and chocolate. Fold in the choc chips and pour batter into loaf pans.
Bake in oven for 60/70 minutes and "Wallah!"--- baie maklik meisies :)

Here's my tip:

Whilst bread is baking, stare into fruit bowl/fridge and decipher 'the fruit in you'- if you cannot decide, pour a glass of red wine (or shot of tequila) and think further whilst sipping furiously.

Before you know it, you'll smell the delicious bread wafting through your home and suddenly, a word like routine rewards you with multiple forks of healthy sweetness!

So you ask, what fruit am I? I'll settle with being a tomato- neither a fruit nor a veggie. We're down-to-earth, served with any dish and bursting with the colour of love... .



xoxo

"This one goes out to the one I love"

I heard something last night that made me sit up and think. A man spoke and he said, "Keep in mind, when you travel most things will end and something new will begin."

Ok that's quite an obvious statement because you're leaving people behind and entering a new chapter in your book of life. But what he was trying to get at is that people like you and me have to see situations and relationships for what they are. Alot of us including myself, hang on to the negative ones. For whatever reason we do this, it makes no sense at the end of the day because let's be blatantly truthful- at the end of the day, we all get put into a little box and our souls fly away to a place where we hopefully get given a mansion!

I recently said Good Bye to my dear Grandad. I also said the Eulogy at his funeral and sat right next to his box with my Gran infront of me trembling like a leaf. When someone dies at a ripe old age (think of the perfect avo), many people will tell you that it was their "time". Quite true, but really it's not what you want to hear. It's sad, tragic and knowing that we're here today and gone tomorrow is one hell of an acceptance speech we need to give ourselves at some point.

Yesterday it was Mothers Day and it got me thinking about 'my mommy'. My mom is not your typical mom. She doesn't bake, never has plasters or tissues in her handbag and during my school years, she used to request a cup of tea in order for me to be driven to school!

People will always say "mothers know best" and I've always giggled at that statement because my mom and I are splitting images of one another. We're irrational, usually never think of consequences and always cook too little- everyone in my family has to share their roast potato around the Christmas table! And when we go for a 3 week holiday, you can guarantee we'll forget to pack the bare essentials of a toothbrush and then find it absolutely hilarious that together we can be so identically daft! In fact, when it does come to advice, especially about boys, my mom gets me so fired up I end up plotting the ultimate and most extreme step of victory or revenge.(Usually the latter I may add!)

Together we're like Pinky and the Brain and I wouldn't swap her for the world. She's my right-hand man, always listens with an open heart and folds down my duvet like a pretty serviette. Although she's never on time, I know I can still count on her no matter what. My mom cooks a mean curry and roast chicken and if I were to choose my last meal on this Earth, I'd get my mom to serve me up her speciality- with an extra order of roast potatoes!

My mom has managed to live with my legendary but often difficult Father- aka Pappa Bear or Pop. She has nursed him through 10 serious ICU hernia operations, and several other bed-ridden injuries.

What can I say? She's a nurse, she's a friend and she's my Mother till the end.

There really is no end with my Mom. So yes that man who spoke was true, I've said Good-Bye to my Grandad and God knows I am still learning to "Just let it Go" with the heartfelt love in my soul, but never have/will I say farewell to my mum.

I hope you all picked your mom a flower, made her some tea and told her that you love her- because one day,(if you're not a mom already)it will be the best reward having someone love you no matter what, unconditionally and forever ever Amen.

xoxo

Come on, pedal faster!

As usual I had planned to take the reliable 80 bus to San Francisco, but that plan changed all too quickly when my Spanish speaking friend missed a turn-off to the Bus Station and ended up on her first "U.S High Way" experience.

After much deliberation and acknowledgement of no turning back, we drove into The City in a snazzy car with some Latino music blearing and her singing- no wonder I went to bed singing about someone called "Alle, Alle... Allejandro!"

An hour later, after nearly having several head-on collisions and me swearing in Afrikaans, we decided it was best to park, hire some bikes and cycle across the Golden Gate Bridge! However not realising it was the Alcatraz Escape Triathlon, it meant serious cyclists in serious get-up, seriously cycling on a, did I mention, very 'serious' mission? As I pride myself in being competitive I found myself trying to compete with some muscular looking women, looking for the odd wink from a bulging boy but instead I'm now left with a very sore rear end and stiff neck from approaching competitors!

I could really tell you what was going through my mind after 3 hours of constant pedalling in a 50 knot wind, but it's probably better I share some interesting facts of of the Golden Gate Bridge I learnt along the way:

It turns out only 12 people died during construction which took place in The Great Depression (1933). Designed by bridge-builder Jospeh Strauss, it was made with over a whopping 75 000 000kg's of steel, 2000m of cable and has an average of 40 million cars crossing annually. The toll now costs $6, the paint colour, Orange Vermillion was chosen to blend in with the setting and before the Bridge, people had to use a ferry to get across San Francisco Bay.

Other than that, I'd say it's a very impressive and overwhelming sight nevermind choosing to bike it. The eye-balling gothic lady hiring out the bikes mentioned I was the first South African she had signed in, and by the look of her 20 piercings I'd say she's been there for a while.

So let this be a little motivation to you at some point, to come to San Francisco and be the next Suid-Afrikaner to do it also too! (incorrect use of speech horribly deliberate)

Here's wishing you all a fantastic week!

xoxo

"Looking at the Box"

A week goes by and the Californian sun is beginning to show it's pretty face! Much to my delight because an American Spring on the West Coast is similar to the freezing chill of a Cape-Town Winter. You know the one where your bones rattle and your teeth chatter, resulting in an aching jaw, frosting nose and blue chapped lips? (Plus the odd spot or two just so you know your African skin is despising you!)

Not looking or feeling like my usual self I chose to stay indoors this week, spending my free time "Looking at the Box". So here are two of the latest movies I've seen- I hope you have your tea and rusks ready!

The first one, "The Last Song" is aimed at girls going through the beginnings of PMS and liking boys (yuck!) Miley Cyres plays the lead and before you all think I've turned into a crazed teeny bopper, she was actually pretty good. There were moments where the "American Cheese" was unbearable and I bowed my head in shame for supporting such romantic antics but nevertheless Greg Kinnear ("As Good as it Gets" and "Little Miss Sunshine") plays the role of Miley's Dad and is fantastic. He always seems to choose these vulnerable roles where your heart pours out to him and you find yourself sitting in the back row sobbing. Try watching "Feast of Love" and get back to me on that one! Anyway overall it's sad, uplifting and reminds us all to keep the one's we love as close to our hearts as possible. (Love you Dad!) I'd say, it's an easy 6/10, pushing for a 7.

The second delectable flick of choice was "Up in the Air" with gorgeous George Clooney. Similar to "Alfie" with Jude Law, both movies take a fine look at men who choose very little,if any commitment in their lifestyles. Whether they regret it or not, it remains an often dismal choice. Although they may catch a glimpse of themselves adding something/someone into their lives, it still ends without the cliche of a happy ending. I can appreciate these movies because they are realistic and for any woman watching it, she'll know a guy whom she once loved, who lived "Up in the Air" ie: with a carrot stuck up his arse and fearing commitment like the black plague. The movie is clever, and Clooney is always lovely to watch. Once again the message should read that you appreciate who or what is in your life and make the most of sharing your time on this Earth with love and companionship. It's an 8/10, fair and square!

Ending off, I'll say I cried a good bucket or two yesterday, feeling sorry for both George and Greg, however there is no doubt that they are both now, if not together, sitting in the Bahama's sipping on a frozen Margarita! But still it is important to look deeper and relate to these characters as they're just catalysts in bringing out our own personal trials and tribulations.

I hope you enjoyed "Looking at the box" with me, next time I promise it will be a little more cheery and action-packed!

Living on the West Coast

Welcome to a world where your neighbours wave in a furious and friendly manner and even our infamous Rooibos tea has made it on more than one menu!

Smiling moms spend their mornings taking their off-spring for a brisk walk and cyclists meet every week-end to energise their bodies after a week in the office. Dogs are most definitely humans and are treated better than the average Blue Collar worker!

Life is simple- getting a library card and being able to choose 50 books is perfectly normal. Dealing with "home affairs" is a breeze and the employees who work for the Government don't take lunch breaks, just to make sure they are attending to your important needs of administration.

Yes, being an admitted TV addict, I'll also highlight that HBO offers you an array of channels where spending five hours straight in front of the box is part and parcel. True enough, it may not be the healthiest option, but on a rainy day it's a "hot chocolate and Club Duvet life-saver."

This is life on the West Coast of the United States of America. San Francisco, enforced with socialites, hippie's and career-driven professionals who balance between hard work and outdoor activities. I've fallen in love in two weeks and this time it's thankfully not with a man who can't express himself but with 'The City', who's prettier and quieter than New York but still full of bustle and on-going life.

It may not be home, but it sure is great being here right now, today.