Ok now that that is out of the way.

Make way for improvements! Things are much to stale around here! Let’s open a window! Let’s breathe in the fresh air of 2010! November 2009 was so last year and it’s time to let loose and let live!

My list of things to change around here



1. Get a new header
2. Sort out the mess that is my pages
3. Increase the level of awesome.



And maybe provide a few updates on the diy project that is my new house! What updates do you have? Any new news in the last three months?

Three Months later

Three months later, and I am happy to report back.


I am not dead yet. Just very very tired.


But, in my moments of solemn thought and introversion (which happens more than what is healthy) I realise how much I miss blogging. Seriously.



I think of the silliest things to report on, and fail.



But you know? This time I am not going to try and win. I am just going to post when I can. and what I can.


Because I am a happier, more balanced person when I can put my saddies, funnies and Oh-crapsies on the internet for the whole world to see. *even you Jimmy*.


So I am back. For now.



And I love you.

So Now I am so Broke I can’t even pay attention.

I signed my house papers today.

We move in at the end of December.

Hubs and I now own a 3 bedroom home.

I feel so incredibly blessed.

To God be the glory.

Shall we eat cake now?

Holding Grudges

I have a few people I wish to inveterate in fiction. Those people that I can expound on every blackhead, fat roll and brown mole.

Them with their stubborn elitism with distinguished ignorance.

Those who use words which stand for hate. And disrespect.

and hypocrisy.

She, who would read my words and think it were her sister. Or mother perhaps.

But would never think it were her.

Oh sweet! How sweet would it be to tear them apart for their soulful hatred of one.

one.


The one who would inveterate them in fiction.

and laugh as she mocked her own family

as she mocked me.

On writing poetry.

I think that this poem pretty much enuciates my whole life making anything I say in future so not worth it.

Robots kill. I need groceries.

Breaking the silence

There is nothing worse than admitting failure.

Obviously.

But this time it is really sucky. I just can’t manage to keep this blog going anymore. For no reason than pure and utter laziness I have reduced myself from living only in the physical world devoid of virtuality and anonymity.

How insane is that?

So, if you are reading this… if my broken promises haven’t forced you to delete me from your blogroll… join in the sickness.

That’s right.

Do something in the real world that totally rocks your boat. I ate half a tub of rice crispies treats for no reason other than that they tasted really good. So take that virtual simulation… I have lived.

and now I feel a little ill.

When it comes down to it…

Friendship, companionship and love are the reasons I wake up in the morning.

Funny Crap Hubs Says Version 3.1

*** I interuppt regular programming to once again apologise for bing such a baaad blogger. I have some time allotted to catch up both this blog and on your blogs. Promise. Remember forgiveness sets the heart free.***

Hubs and I are sitting on the couch watching Fall Out Boy LIVE.

I’ve always loved this band purely for the joy in their rock and the lack of seriousness in their lyrics. Hubs is not convinced.



Me: *mid defense about why FOB can’t actually suck as much as he thinks they do* I like the band- except that Pete Wentz bass guy. He’s annoying. And Stoned. Stoned people just aren’t as awesome as sober people.

Hubs: Yeah, I think the guitarists and the drummer can form their old band. They can call it “One Boy Falls Out”



One Boy Falls Oout. What do you think Mr. Drummer and Mr. Guitarists?

Catchy, No?

Keeping you up to date on the DL

Right, so I’ve been quiet. And cryptic. And I know you are dying to hear what I have been doing!

Here’s a few hints…

It’s a big change…

It’s totally new…

It’s super expensive…

And it’s not a baby (sorry grandma)

that’s right.

Hubs and I have been looking for a house. And we put an offer down yesterday. (Most stressful time of my entire life.)

South Africa does things a bit backward here and so after we put in the offer we have to get bank approval (weird I know). So offer down, acceptance from seller and… now we wait to make sure the bank likes us.

Hubs and I are very excited.

It’s a 3 bedroom, 2 lounge, 1.5 bath, massive garden beauty.

PS That reccession was our *female puppy*

Crossing fingers that all goes well!

Culturally Confused

From which culture are you? I know I have readers that are American. South African. Nigerian. Australian. British. And the list continues. Being an expat, I am surprised that there aren’t more expats who stop around here. Maybe it’s because few will leave America for a lousy place like South Africa or something… That’s what I hear when I complain to self.

Self, Bertha and I sit in common disarray and discuss my cultural ambiguity. There are a grand total of six people I know that live like I do. My father, mother, brother and two sisters. (Nice I know.) And even their cultures are more intimately defined as either American, Like my brother and mother, or South African, my father and sisters.

There I stand. 16 years in the States in the tightest little bubble completely unaffected by American culture and 5 years completely immersed in South African culture – and a South African husband to boot. So what am I?

Out the window flew my quick fast easy meals on weekends (because weekends are party time right?!) and in came ‘visiting the in-laws’ and roasts, rice, potatoes, gravy, roast veggies, mash squash (sounding a bit like Christmas no?) and a three course dessert.

I can’t remember what self checkouts were really like- I understand more about Apartheid than I do the American foreign policy. I can name for you the ANC deputy president, remind you who Fugard is and probably will swear in Afrikaans before muttering a word of Spanish (in which I once was nearly fluent).

I remember the constant pressure to perform, the common restlessness of my peers and the materialistic spree of the media. Those things I do not miss. There are certain things I can attribute solely to my upbringing within the American culture. I believe in freedom above almost anything. I believe that socialism and communism suck ass. And that pop tarts are the healthiest breakfast food in the world. I know my directness is attributed to my so –called Americanness. And yet, Hubs swears that I speak with a thick South African accent in my sleep. I am culturally confused.

I am stuck in the chasms of cultures- one that wishes to be and the one that is.

And I lament.