That’s my question, folks. Lee told me I should never show him (you know who) this blog. Richard reckons that he’d be damn stupid to dump me if he does ever read it. Mwah @ Richard.

What should I tell him? Should I tell him that I got fired from my job at a big retail company for stealing? It was, admittedly, a very grey area: virtual money. And it wasn’t even a lot. Should he know that my local Woolies banned me from “shopping” there? That is, until they got a new store manager and a new security guard. Should Dubbeld know how worried I am that the old manager or security guard will show up there, see me and tell me to get lost?

Just how much does my “Facebook complicated” need to know?

How to survive – Apetown style

Many, many of my friends and acquaintances have told me over the years they admire me; I can hustle when I’m really pushed into a corner. At some stage I thought of hosting a monthly class, aka Carrie from SATC, but on how to get men to fund your admittedly-not-so-lavish-lifestyle.

What I have learnt over the years (really only since 2006, if I have to be honest) is that men will give anything for a really good blowjob. Even more if you swallow their stuff. Don’t get me wrong: I love swallowing the right guy’s stuff. And that’ll be Victor, as I did on Saturday. It wasn’t bad, actually… Anyway. Anyone else, well, it’s kinda eeew. But I’ll do it if the money/reward/spank is good enough.

So how did I survive being fired three times in 2006-7? Oh, it was easy.

I pilfered a lot last year. For some strange reason, I pilfered a ton of books! That didn’t really help me to keep my tummy full; it was an attempt to distract me from my poor surroundings. Sometimes I would return the pilfered item to a different store and receive a refund. Depending on which store it is I could then buy something else with that money/credit note. That is how I managed to buy a kettle early last year.

On another occasion, I pilfered a really cute clock. The price: R199. I’m not entirely sure what I did with the credit I received from the store. I think I bought another towel; I was gatvol of Toby using my damn towels. On another occasion, I pilfered some really fancy perfume. I managed it with a horde of sales assistants crowding around me.

The men in my life also helped me a lot. I think I’ve already written about Muhannad and how he used to give me money. R2000 here, R3000 there, it doesn’t matter; he’s got more money than Allah. Uri also helped me a bit. I once placed an ad – I placed many, many ads – on Gumtree, to which many guys responded. One of them contacted me and made the mistake of constantly calling me. Once, he called me a couple of minutes after Muhannad cancelled on me. So I was teary and not in a good mood. I then told him I’m upset because I’m getting evicted from my flat. Well, it was true!

The very next day, he drove from wherever he was staying and gave me R800 to help me. Yes, he wanted to shag me, but it didn’t happen. Remember I said I don’t do coloured guys? I never heard from him again.

So when I didn’t receive money from random Gumtree men, I would receive it from Uri or Toby or even from Anton.

Anton’s a character and a third. He started out very nice, and then turned progressively bad, then good, then bad. Anton is a character for another blog post on another day after I had had two or more glasses of red wine and I’m listening to angry chick music.

Another survival tactic was my Virgin Credit Card. Wow. What an amazing contraption. I don’t know if I’ll ever pay what I owe to Mr Branson, I think I’ll just worship his card thrice daily. It kept me from starving at the end of 2006. Unfortunately, when I thought I needed it most, Mr Price picked up that it is a Hot Card and alerted Virgin Money. At that stage I was already 7k over my limit of only 5k. Well, it was my fault: I asked them to lower the limit, thinking I won’t really need a 7k credit card limit. So silly of me, I know.

So I knew what it feels like when I wanted you to imagine you’re at the till and you want the card to go through and not be declined.

Oh. I also did a tiny bit of freelancing. Not much. Not enough. But I did it, and it somehow got me a job at my present company. God knows what will happen if they find my blog.

So, kids. Do not think I’m nice. I’m not. I know how to take care of myself. I might never become the bergie with Swarovski earrings, but I will always have street smarts. If Uri decides my blowjobs are kak, I’ll find some other sugar daddy in a beat. Trust Craigslist/Gumtree/(insert random, dodgy bar’s name here) for that.

Hmmm. Methinks I may need to ingest something not liquid. So, cheers vir eers! – Ant Stienie van Agter Elke Man. (The trippy writing style I attribute to my boobs being as big as they are today and also to a rather nice 2007 Robertson Winery Sauvignon Blanc. It looks cheap, and it is – only R24 at Pick n Pay – but it’s damn nice!