EM&CT has a meme going on and invited us to do the same, if we feel like it. So, here goes with my list of things that speaks volumes about my tastes.
I got this little table in 2006, at a “junk store” in Kloof Street. Yes, that one, the one that closed down. 😦 Very, very sad. Toby hates it. I absolutely adore it.
I love tea. Guess which ones resulted from a splendid pilfering experiment?
As an aspirant alcoholic, I need to have wine available to me at all times. I got the 1.5litre bottle for mahala at my local bottle store. It was advertised at the ridiculous price of R1, so I advised the store manager that I want it at that price. She agreed – after a slight fight – and I walked out with a free bottle of vino. Toby bought me the bottle of vino with the bottle stopper inside. It’s the most expensive bottle of wine he’s ever bought. And damn delicious, too.
It is a Fleur Du Cap Merlot Unfiltered 2004. It is divine. Trust me. I’m having my second half glass for the evening.
I’ve had this little skull for as long as I can remember. It was my mom’s. My grandpa gave it to her when she was a little girl. Call me sentimental.
Some fridge magnets, and more. I bought a yearly ticket to the Aquarium and that’s the sticker that came in my welcome pack. The fridge magnets I got from Evolvefish.
As I’m writing this, I have someone standing outside my door, banging to get in, trying to “evict” me. LOL. They’ve been at it for half an hour or so. I called the police, and they’re sending someone out.
Actually, I haven’t heard anything much from them now for a full minute. I saw a shadow a minute ago, but that’s been it. That, and the normal noises of people opening their doors to get outside. The funniest thing is that they got here just as I was about to leave the flat! I heard some noises, and closed the door just in time. I am dying for a cuppa, and to return the videos I rented. Argh.
Let’s see what’s gonna happen. Victor offered his help, should anything happen. Leigh-Anne tried to help, too. Thanks, honey. You’re a darling.
Well, that was a rather interesting two hours. I learned that there are some very cute Afrikaans constables out there. Some of them do have a rather wicked sense of humour, and I didn’t receive the second season of Sopranos. I’ve got seasons 1, 3-6, but not season 2. I wonder…
This was just what I needed. Some excitement. Wow. I feel alive again. Argh. Anyway. That was completely random. I’m no longer under house-arrest. The landlady threatened to evict me, even though the cops told her she’s not allowed to. The cops were excellent, especially my Afrikaans boy.
Let me know when you want to move the couch.
That’s from Cute Afrikaans boytjie. LOL. I think he really liked me!
Anyway. I’m in desperate need of a coffee. Especially now that the landlady’s daughter threatens to move in here. We’ll see about that. I doubt she will, though. Well, it’s nice to know the law is on my side. And thank Jebus for stupid landladies.
Please introduce yourself. I’d love to know who you are, what makes you tick, how much you weigh, why you read my stupid blog (fishing for a compliment here, as you can imagine…), if you’re certifiable, what you’re wearing right now and what you think of my sparkly smile.
Fine, you need not answer all those questions. One or two of them will suffice. The craziest (I don’t do “nice”; it’s such a fucking “nice” word) reply gets a little prize. I still need to decide on the prize. It might not be anything monetary, though. *She sobs*
But. It’ll put a smile on (or is it upon?) my dial, and that should make you happy, right?
I discovered a cute new blog today: SleepyJane’s. The name sounds familiar; it’s possible she may have posted a comment on here before, or something like that. Perhaps I saw her commenting on one of the many other blogs I frequent. Who knows?
But she had a cute little meme going on and I decided to steal the idea. Besides, she gave us free reign! So here goes on the Picture Meme, though I changed it slightly.
My first car:
I’ve never had a car; I have a scooter…
Where I grew up … and where I still live:
Ek’s ‘n Kapenaar, jong! (I’m a Capetonian!)
My grandma’s first name:
I can make the meanest spaghetti bolognaise!
Tough one, this. I can’t decide between a nice Merlot or an Espresso Martini…
Current favourite song:
I’m not your superwoman – Karyn White
Current favourite smell:
I’d love to post a picture of my red shoes, but I’m afraid you’ll recognise me when I traipse down the road. Or, those of you who stay in Cape Town, at any rate. 😉
Favourite Winter Shoes:
Aren’t these pwetty? Once again, my Wellington’s (aka Gumboots) are very distinctive; such a pity, actually. But these ones are as cute!
Cause I’m a dreamer…
This is a movie about me and my crazy love life. Or rather, this is a movie about what my love life used to be like.
This blog is my haven. I rant, I vent and I talk kak. If you don’t like cussing, stay away. If you can’t deal with writing on sex, stay far, far, far away. If you’re a guy, you could do with reading some of my stuff; it might just change your opinion on things. Though, truthfully, most men might not be comfortable with my very frank utterings. Be warned, also: since I am almost in a relationship, I might become boring, and write about cats, instead of hot, passionate sexual explorings. It’s possible, but not likely. 😉
Because I am South African, I write from a South African standpoint. This includes the use of some Afrikaans every so often. But not much, I promise.
I do not attempt to be an intellectual; I reserve that for the men/man I shag. That is not to say that I am not an intellectual in my own right. My writing is not amazing, please do not expect too much. I am Afrikaans. And coloured. And a girl. And a heathen. So prepare yourself for a heathen’s feminist perspective on love, race, religion, sex and language. It could get slightly messy… And damn it, there’s nothing wrong with being a feminist!
If you’re Victor, do not read this blog, it will fuck with your mind.
Because I’m a paranoid woman, I went to Clicks to get a pregnancy test. A small part (fine, a rather big part) of me wanted to be preggies. I think I’m just slightly jealous over The Kid. He’s adorable!
So of course I want my own little Kiddie. Never mind that we’ve been very careful when we’re having sex, there’s this little voice in my head that tells me it might be possible. My breasts were sore and very sensitive for a couple of days; I was insanely tired since Wednesday; I’ve been very broody for the last couple of months…
So I decide to give it a shot. I go to the pharmacist and ask for a pregnancy test. He tells me where to find one, and I walk to that particular aisle, trying to locate the pregnancy tests. It takes me a while, but eventually I succeed, by which time I find him standing next to me. He asks: “Do you know Victor?”
Fark. I freaked out, just so very lightly, very slightly. “Excuse me?” I ask him. He repeats his question. My mind is racing, I wonder if he reads my blog, and somehow managed to find out who I am. Did he Google my blog’s URL and find my picture when he clicked on images? I look nothing like my avatar… Did he trace my IP? Is this just a coincidence? Fark. Of course, I am mistaken. Right? He couldn’t possibly be one of my readers. He’s a very old man, for fark sake!! Eeew.
It turns out that this Victor is a colleague of his. Well, actually, I wasn’t really listening to his explanation, so I could be wrong. And of course I look like his girlfriend. Now, as far as I know, Victor’s dad is a part-time lecturer. Not a pharmacist, and especially not in my small town!
I think I need to be more careful regardless. This is a small place. I’m sure there aren’t too many bloggers out there who fit my description. I should also just chillax. Eish, this is a recurring theme in my posts!!
So I went home with the pregnancy test, and I actually paid for it! Lol. I even bought myself a little treat, just in case I was not pregnant and needed something to stifle the tears.
I tested myself just before I left for work yesterday. I’m not preggies. Darn.
I love to write, though I find it easier to write when it is not work-related, but please let’s keep this a secret? This blog is meant to cure me of many ills, some of which would cost me R450 for a 45-minute couch stint at a shrink.
Through this blog, I can come to terms with many things, including my very shady past, even though you don’t even know (or care to know) the half of it. I’ve done things I’m ashamed of, and I’m even more ashamed to admit that I still feel very, very, tres tempted to do them again.
My grammar is not immaculate, so please bear with me. I do have a spelling fetish, and hate to misspell words. If you’re reading this blog, expecting me to have perfect grammar and hoping to find exquisite imagery, I would suggest you go elsewhere. Sowwy.
Me being pre-orgasmic, as opposed to anorgasmic as posted on Amatomu, is another big concern. I’m working like a slave towards resolution, but it might not happen anytime soon.It’s not the raison d’etre for my blog’s existence; there are other, more pressing thoughts I would like to explore when they pop into my head (or the notebook I pilfered from EB .. sorry, Victor!).
Victor is another reason why I blog. This relationship is still so … young, so … fresh, so … delightful, I really don’t want him to know just what a great, fat, brown bitch I am. But I’m sure he knows a bit. So I’d rather blog here, for all and sundry (that’ll be you, Richard!) to read.
Another reason why I do this is to benefit from the great sense of community (I was trying to think of a better word than that) I find in blogging, whether it is from Amatomu users or from WordPress users, it’s all the same to me.
Finally, I’d like to give this URL to Victor someday so that he can read everything about me in a couple of posts. Fine, I’m not that simplistic but I think it’d give him a very good idea of who I am. Of course, that will not happen tomorrow, though he begs for it daily! It might never happen, and I’m sure he’d love me still. Eeek. Love? Oy. Let’s not go there. Although he did actually write me an sms some days back saying “Ngiyakuthanda”, I remain unconvinced that he loves me already.
So, in conclusion, let me point out that I will mostly be responsible for a load of bad writing about a load of irrelevant subjects, some of which may be even more irrelevant to my very white audience. But let that not be a deterrent to Tarah! She shall be a brave trooper, only occasionally indulging in some sob-related topics and regaling you with a hard-hitting account of her (now) almost perfect life!!
This is my first post on my new blog. My previous blog became a bit stilted, especially as my ex-boyfriend’s mother was one of my frequent readers. Not that I really minded much. The problem came in when I wanted to blog about the trauma of our break-up… I wasn’t allowed to, as he didn’t want her to know about it.
What’s more, it took her a very long time to get to know me, and to get to like me. Why did I want to throw that hollow victory away? I didn’t. But I also want my blog to be a place where I can vent, rant, rave, cry, sob, smile with glee, and just be myself. Having my ex-boyfriend’s mother read the blog was a bit weird, though she was my biggest and most lojal fan.
This is a shout-out to…
Why the title, then, you ask? Well, I chucked him out just yesterday. This is what it comes down to, folks. After almost 5 years (March 2008) we split up (yet again). I’m hoping this time will be the last. It might not be, though and that is what keeps me awake at night. That, and how I’ll survive on my own in this fancy little apartment smack bang in the centre of town. Well, semi-smack bang in the centre of town.
But, I’ll be fine. With a lot of hard work, which is not something I’m well-known for, I’ll make it.