Elizabeth, one of my sisters phoned me about an hour ago. Ever since she started working, she has been keeping in regular contact with me. Sometimes it’s a tad irritating, but mostly, it gives me that wonderful fuzzy feeling inside. We’re not terribly close, so this comes as a bit of a surprise to me.
She wants to spend tomorrow with me. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw. I guess she wants an escape from my mom and her twin sister. I don’t blame her. When I was Elizabeth’s age, and still living at home, I used to do the same. Only, I used to spend my time with friends who were staying in town.
I’m not sure where I’ll get the time to see everyone whom I’ve been meaning to see, but my sister is more important. Right? I’m already thinking of what we can do tomorrow; how I can keep her entertained. She’s the one with the 6-month-old baby. I love the baby, but I wish she could have opted for adoption or abortion when she had the chance. It would’ve been better. I mean, some moms become psycho. I don’t want her to get like that. She’s too young.
Anywho. I’m looking forward to seeing her tomorrow. Wish me luck trying to convince her that opening clothing accounts would not be the clever thing to do. And how I wish I can convince her that spending anything over R1000 on a new cellphone, is plain madness. She’s earning a pittance and I wish I were able to help her financially. Right now, though, I want to extend my parents’ house. They could certainly do with a bathroom… So buying her a new cellphone is not what I want to spend my money on. I’d much rather buy the baby some clothing, toys and books.
Well, I hope we’ll have a good time tomorrow. I’ll take her to some of my hangouts and spoil her a little with good food and let her download some music, etc.
What should I do with 1Gig? I have until tomorrow night to use it.
There’s a new boy whom I like. Argh. He’s cute (even though Leigh-Anne thinks his nose is too broad), intelligent, has unorthodox views on just about anything and has a sense of humour.
Problem is just that I have never met him. He’s the editor of a well-known South African website. He’s also Afrikaans. Well, he can only be Afrikaans, wif his name.
Oh, and he thinks I would make an excellent sub-editor. That’s sub-editor, not copy editor. Argh. I only learned the difference last week. *Slaps forehead*
So anyway. I’d love to meet him, but I’m afraid of ‘asking him out’. I need help!
I’ve seen her around town. She’s almost always alone, and very nicely dressed. She speaks beautiful English, you know, Leigh-Anne type of English. The English I can only dream of speaking.
I admire everything about her. Well, perhaps not everything; I’m lighter in complexion than she is, so that makes me happy. And my hair isn’t as nappy as hers.
But otherwise, I’m sure, she’s living la dolce vita. Or so it seems. Even if she isn’t a high-powered executive (who just happens to prefer taking taxis to get from A to B), she’s got great style and knows how to put a look together. Who knows, perhaps she bought that black dress at a store in the Golden Acre (I highly doubt it), and perhaps that light blue cardi is from Mr Price. Hmm. Perhaps not.
Thing is, somehow, I pitied this woman. She looked out of place in a taxi. Yes, even more out of place than some of the white ladies, only because she was so well-dressed. I don’t imagine her taking a taxi, train or bus anywhere; I see her driving a Smart Car and partying at fancy ‘la-di-da’ restaurants and bars.
So I wonder: do people see me at times, and think I am out of place when I take a taxi?
- I have a new book
- I have some work to do at work
- I saw Uri, if only for two minutes
- I spoke to my gran tonight
- I browsed in Exclusive Books
- I’m planning a romantic get-away with my lydi friend
- I watched an episode of The West Wing
- I’m having a glass of vino
- I’m listening to Laurika Rauch (sad addict, me)
- I realised that sometimes, we don’t always get what we want, and that’s fine.
I’m ashamed to admit that I act like this around cats.
I need a raise. It’s pathetic that I, a 25-year-old is still earning peanuts. There are some of my friends who earn much more than me. Some of them are *gasp* younger. See, when I interviewed for this position, the big boss wanted to know how much I want to earn. The problem was that just two or three weeks prior to that, I had interviewed for a similar position at a different company, and didn’t get the job. I was positive it is because I asked for too much money, so when Michael asked me how much I want, I just blurted out a random amount.
And I got the job. I’m not sure how, or why, or what’s the big purpose and where it fits into the grand scheme of things, but here I am. Only, I’m not very happy. About a number of things, and money is one of them. My rent used to be half my nett pay. That’s ouch. That means I am not coping financially.
Even now that I have moved to a cheaper apartment (sharing with two others in a flat without a shower), I am still not in the black because I was forced to take a company loan of 6.4k Ouch.
The worst thing is that, when I started here, I thought that I would impress them by submitting only the very best work. I honestly thought I was doing that. But why then did I only receive a R500 Xmas bonus? When almost everyone else (I’m sure) received upwards of 1k? Does this mean I’m a bad employee? Or does it mean that I need to become Michael’s new BFF? I don’t really want to though. I’m just not like that, you see?
So anyway. I held high hopes of being inundated with work and showing them that I am a diligent worker who can crack the odd joke. Alas, my workload has been declining steadily since December and then they had the audacity of hiring a second copywriter. Who isn’t nearly as bad a writer as I thought. 😦 And yes, it does pain me to say that. It pains me to read through her stuff and having to admire it. It pains me that she might just be *gasp* better than me.
Do I have enough reason to ask for a raise? Yes, I could mention that I am underpaid by ‘industry standards’, but then, I’m in the SEO Industry, which is a different kettle of fish. And then what? He might point out that there isn’t much work to be done, and what’s more, I’m not really that good. This sms reveals that fact:
Good lord. I really hope you dont write for any publication of substance. With you pompous attitude and less than perfect command of the English language, you would destroy any readable ‘rag’.
That stung. But. That’s just one person’s opinion. Someone who does not matter. Someone who might have been angry with me so he decided to hurl a cheap insult at me. Ouch.
So, yeah. I can’t promise, but I’ll try to brainstorm ways to ask Michael for a raise. And reasons why I deserve it.
Moving into a new flat calls for a celebration, so my flatmate and I had a housewarming (I never know if it’s ‘house warm in’, or ‘housewarming’) on Saturday night. Well, it was supposed to be all three of us, but the third girl went home to visit her family. Pity, she’s quite a sweet girl. At first I didn’t think I would enjoy the party; my flatmates are very religious, and I was expecting their friends to be as religious and very racist. Don’t ask me why.
So I spent the first half an hour chatting to my friend on Skype, and arranged to meet her for lunch at her new flat the next day. I then moaned to her about this housewarming party, and told her that I should go to mingle with the guests.
I reluctantly joined the people on the balcony and started to talk to them. Quite nice people, I had to admit. Eventually, I noticed an attractive bald guy who seemed quite intelligent, and fun to talk to. At some point in the conversation he asked me who my favourite male actors were. I told him that, actually, I don’t watch television, so I don’t have any. And then some other guy said, “Ag, I’m sure she likes Maguyver”. I said, “Yes, I do! And I also like whatshisname, um, Bruce Willis.”
Pieter (the attractive bald guy) wanted to know why I like him and I said, “Cause I like bald men”. He seemed pleased with that and said “Thank god, there’s hope for us bald men”.
Throughout the evening, I kept thinking that he’s cute and I’d like to kiss him. I undressed him with my eyes. We had this delightful banter and it was just such fun to flirt with a handsome guy.
So by the time people started leaving, I got nervous, thinking he might also on his way. But then I realised that he stays in Paarl, so it’ll be a very far drive at 2am. Of course he stayed the night.
At 2:30 my flatmate decided she’s going to bed, and I also went to my room. He was supposed to sleep in the lounge but then he saw my light’s still on and peeked inside. “You’re genuinely addicted to the internet, hey?”, he asked. If only he knew I was busy writing this post about him! I said nothing, only because I was wondering whether to jump him right there. He then went downstairs, to check on his bakkie (Yum, I love guys who drive bakkies) and I went to the balcony for ‘some fresh air’.
He noticed (when he returned) that the door leading to the balcony is open and joined me there. It was classic: he saw me standing there, waiting on him to ‘make the first move’, which he did. I was so relieved! I am not used to this, not anymore. Haven’t happened to me in ages. So it was refreshing to kiss someone (he’s a good kisser!) new. And the ‘bumpin and grindin’ was fabulous. It made me feel like a naughty 15-year-old. I acted all coy for all of half an hour. I then kissed him and told him to have a good night’s sleep and went to my room.
Ten minutes later, in just my bra and slip, I went to the lounge and joined him. He stripped down to only his boxers. Yummy. We kissed for a bit and I then led him to my room.
The sex wasn’t that amazing. At all. He got soft before I could even put the condom on. Stage fright, perhaps? It was, however, pleasant waking up next to someone who then showers you with kisses all over. Hmm. Haven’t had that in a while. I swear, I would pay for that to happen every day. Never mind that I’m not particularly keen on sharing a flat with my next boyfriend.
I haven’t heard anything from Pieter. I guess my flatmate told him I have a boyfriend ‘of sorts’, because that’s what I’m telling everyone. Argh. But. He stays in Paarl, which is too far away from me, so even if he’s interested, it wouldn’t work.
Should I send him a message on Facebook? What do you think? It’ll just be a ‘Sat was great. LOL.’ type of message, nothing hectic. Or should I just leave it?
Today was the day that I finally bought the SATC boxset. I have been putting it off for months. So tonight at 19:45 I walked into Look & Listen at the Waterfront and made up my mind: I will not leave the store without this sexy boxset. And I didn’t.