Monday, May 31, 2010

Spoiler Alert (sort of)

DW and I just got all the seasons of 24. I've watched a few of them. Allow me to spoil the next 10 seasons for you all:
1) They don't listen to Jack Bauer. But they really should. And they decide to. And it all works out.
2) There is a double agent working for CTU.
3) Jack goes back to CTU FOR THE LAST TIME.
4) They catch the double agent but he/she negotiates for immunity.
5) Probably some "major character" will die
6) And there is an explosion/systems failure/deadly plague at the CTU head office
Happy watching

New Zombie-battling equipment

In my constant struggle against the scourge of the undead, I'm always looking for new tools and training tips. This nifty invention is relatively low-cost and low-maintenance, but my main concern is that DW is shorter than the rake - if he got turned into a zombie BEFORE me (and lets face it - he's not nearly as well-prepared as I am), he'd be totally immune to the rake-trap AND he totally has the keys to the house. I'll stick to the turret gun on the roof, thanks.

Friday, May 28, 2010

Flappophobia and other made up diseases

My friend Kat has a weird phobia. She is terrified of "flapping things". I found out about it when we were taking a smoke break at the office, and she threw a cigarette in my face, ran inside screaming and locked the door. She was fleeing from a butterfly that had made it's merry way to the balcony. She is also afraid of fish, because "they flap underwater".
Our colleague Bianca took her to a petting zoo and when the chickens descended on her, she climbed up on the monkey bars and wouldn't come down, swearing and cussing while disgusted parents looked on.
The picture of me on the left? That was from our camping trip. A bat had flown into the cabin and I had to catch in with a tea towel.
Here's the funny thing - I can't find the name for Kat's phobia. I'm beginning to think she's the only sufferer. We should start a foundation. I did however find about a million other weird things people are phobic about:

Ablutophobia- Fear of washing or bathing
Aerophobia- Fear of swallowing air
Ambulophobia- Fear of walking
Anablephobia- Fear of looking up
Anemophobia- Fear of wind
Anthrophobia- Fear of flowers
Arachibutyrophobia- Fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof ofthe mouth.
Arithmophobia- Fear of numbers
Aulophobia- Fear of flutes
Auroraphobia- Fear of Northern Lights

Barophobia- Fear of gravity
Basophobia- Fear of walking
Batophobia- Fear of being close to high buildings
Bibliophobia- Fear of books
Blennophobia- Fear of slime
Bogyphobia- Fear of the bogeyman

Cathisophobia- Fear of sitting
Catoptrophobia- Fear of mirrors
Chaetophobia- Fear of hair
Chionophobia- Fear of snow
Chromatophobia- Fear of colors
Chronophobia- Fear of time
Chronomentrophobia- Fear of clocks
Cibophobia- Fear of food
Clinophobia- Fear of going to bed
Cnidophobia- Fear of string

Deciophobia- Fear of making decisions
Dendrophobia- Fear of trees
Dextrophobia- Fear of objects at the right side of the body
Didaskaleinophobia- Fear of school

Eisoptrophobia- Fear of mirrors
Eleutherophobia- Fear of freedom
Eosophobia- Fear of daylight
Epistemophobia- Fear of knowledge
Ergophobia- Fear of work
Ereuthophobia- Fear of the color red

Geliophobia- Fear of laughter
Geniophobia- Fear of chins
Genuphobia- Fear of knees
Geumaphobia- Fear of taste
Gnosiophobia- Fear of knowledge
Graphophobia- Fear of writing

Heliophobia- Fear of the sun
Helmintophobia- Fear of being infested with worms
Hemophobia- Fear of blood
Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia- Fear of long words
Homichlophobia- Fear of fog
Hypnophobia- Fear of sleep

Ichthyophobia- Fear of fish
Ideophobia- Fear of ideas

Kainophobia- Fear of anything new
Kathisophobia- Fear of sitting down

Lachanophobia- Fear of vegetables
Leukophobia- Fear of the color white
Levophobia- Fear of objects to the left side of the body
Linonophobia- Fear of string
Logophobia- Fear of words

Melanophobia- Fear of the color black
Melophobia- Fear of music
Metrophobia- Fear of poetry
Mnemophobia- Fear of memories
Mottephobia- Fear of moths

Nebulaphobia- Fear of fog
Neophobia- Fear of anything new
Nephophobia- Fear of clouds
Nomatophobia- Fear of names

Octophobia- Fear of the number 8
Ommetaphobia- Fear of eyes
Oneirophobia- Fear of dreams
Ophthalmophobia- Fear of opening one’s eyes
Ostraconophobia- Fear of shellfish

Panophobia- Fear of everything
Papyrophobia- Fear of paper
Paraskavedekatriaphobia- Fear of Friday the 13th
Peladophobia- Fear of bald people
Phengophobia- Fear of daylight
Phobophobia- Fear of fear
Photophobia- Fear of light
Phronemophobia- Fear of thinking
Pogonophobia- Fear of beards

Sciophobia- Fear of shadows
Scolionophobia- Fear of school
Selenophobia- Fear of the moon
Siderophobia- Fear of stars
Sitophobia- Fear of food
Sophophobia- Fear of learning
Stasibasiphobia- Fear of walking

Thaasophobia- Fear of sitting
Trichopathophobia- Fear of hair
Triskadekaphobia- Fear of the number 13

Verbophobia- Fear of words

Xanthophobia- Fear of the color yellow

Sexual Dysfunction 101

I only blogged about it yesterday, but I'm already getting flack because I said I'd do Robert Redford. The only person who remotely sees what I'm on about is my friend Annie, who is 65 and would do William Shatner. But even she doesn't see why I would go for RR, just because he's a celebrity, when I have a "lovely boy like DW at home". Pfft. Here is my full list of weird celebrities I'm secretly into:

  • The New Spock

  • Dr House

  • Sean Connery in James Bond

  • Sean Connery in Entrapment

  • Sean Connery 10 years from now in the nursing home, totally decrepit

  • Gordon Ramsay

  • Tony Soprano

  • Kermit the Frog if he was a real live person and on crack cause he hates his job

  • Bill Clinton

  • The Queer eye for the straight guy-guys

  • All of the Jonas Brothers (and yes - I'd totally tape that, sell that, make millions and go on Oprah about that)

  • Sir Anthony Hopkins

  • Tommy Lee Jones

  • Young MacGuyver sans hair

  • Jeff Probst

  • Hellboy

The list goes on. And don't pretend like I'm weird. I recently did a drunken poll with some friends and we came up with the weirdest places they've ever had sex:

  • the movie theatre

  • alley behind a dumpster

  • the balcony of their apartment

  • the bathroom at Spartacus (yeah that's right, DW, that guy who sat behind you at the Elton John concert? Totally did that)

  • Ratanga Junction Theme park

  • Johannesburg


Thursday, May 27, 2010

10 Things more disturbing than clown sex

I actually stayed in a guesthouse last year where the owner was married to a Russian mail order bride. At first, I was disgusted and appalled at the practice - which is barbaric and demeaning and reduces women to mere possessions. After only one night of home cooking and spotless cleaning, friendly greetings and good company, I was convinced that the practice was harmless. By night number 3, I was browsing the web for a bride of my own. (She wouldn't have to do me, just my windows.)

During my frantic googling (my husband DW has a cold, and is too weak to feed himself or bathe, yet miraculously strong enough to haul the couch across the room so he can play Playstation), I came across this headline from the Fair Motherland: The World's Strongest Vagina Breaks new record. I kid you not. Apparenlty Tatiata Kozhevnikova just broke her previous record by lifting a 14-kg glass ball with her vajay-jay. She trains for this feat with custom-made training balls. (Hey, remember back when Guiness World Records celebrated human achievement, talent, determination?) Within seconds of sharing this fact with my weird friend Fran, I got IM'd a list of even more disturbing sex records:

1. Moulay Ismail Ibn Sharif holds the record for most children - he fathered 1042 with his 500 wives.

2. In 1765, a peasant woman from Shuya (Moscow again!) gave birth to her 27th child. That included 16 pairs of twins, 7 pairs of triplets and 4 sets of quadruplets. And between you and me, I think she should at least be a runner-up for "World's Strongest Vagina".

3. The world's biggest penis was 13.5 inches (34 cm) long and 6.25 inches (16cm) wide. The owner of aforementioned dong was Dr RL Dickenson (hahahhaahaha). The world's smallest penis was 0.39 inches long (1 cm). No one knows his real name but apparently the condition is called "congenital hypoplasia" and it affects about 0.7% of the ladies. Be grateful for what you have. In the animal kingdom the crown goes to the humble barnacle, who's penis is 42 times the lenght of its own body, and to Rorqual whales that have 10-foot schlongs, 1 foot in diameter.

4. The whole's biggest vagina record goes to Anna Swan from Scotland. She was a giantess. She gave birth to a baby whose head was 19 inches (48 cm) in circumfence.

5. The farthest male ejaculation ever recorded was 18 feet (6 m) and was achieved by Horst Schultz. The farthest a woman was recorded to ejaculate was 10 feet (3 m). The most ejaculations for a man in one hour is 16.

6. A porn star recently set the record for most sexual partners in one day - a whole 620 of men in 24 hours.

7. Those horndogs in Japan hold the record for the world's biggest orgy - 250 couples. Ogenki desu ka?

8. The youngest girl to ever give birth was 5-yeard old Lina Medina, 1933.

9. In 1300 BC King Menephta defeated the Libyan hordes and collected 13 000 chopped-off penises to take home in celebration. What ever happened to flowers?

10. Michelle Monahan of L.A., swallowed 1.7 pints (almost 1 liter) of semen and had to get her stomach pumped, but she made her way into the record books.

Shoes make killing orphans in China so totally worth it

I just got these great new zippy shoes from a cheap chinese import store but then I saw Oprah and she said you shouldn't buy them because they are made in sweatshops and the chinese people tie little orphans up and break their legs and made them sew my shoes, so I felt bad wearing them, but then my friend Matt pointed out "zips are fun" so I wore them all day today. They are exceptionally painful to walk in but I still love them.
Apparently, scientists have found that women are genetically engineered to get high off of buying shoes. We reason that we will be able to wear the shoes over and over again, so collecting them creates an adrelin rush and releases dopamine - we get this from our berry-collecting cave woman ancestors. Also, as mammals, we are wired biologically to associate height with power, says professor Helen Fisher, from the Rutgers University. Therefore we "heighten our status" when we put on high heels. Stilettos, Fisher says, makes women assume the "primal mating position" which is (apparently) popping out your butt and arching your back.
I don't know about the rest of you, but the position I assume when wearing stilettos does not resemble anything you might call a "primal mating position". I assume a position best described as the "drunken cross country hunchback skier" position. The "newborn giraffe position". The "bravely learning to walk again after a lengthy coma position". But nothing about that is sexy. Nor are the blisters, backaches, painful bitching sessions.

Another whackjob/expert Dr Daniel Amen says that our minds are wired to assocaite feet with sex. I quote: "The area of the brain that communicates with the genitals is right next to the area that deals with the feet. These regions share neural crosstalk, which is why shoes are erotic." It's eerie because I never pictured my feet as having much to say to my bajingo. I don't really like to have them talking about me behind my back.

Enough said

After much discussion, my girlfriends and I have decided that DW is - if not gay - at least looking for the closet door knob.
Exhibit A: the attached photo is of DW with white hair. He modeled the hair style off of the Cat Walk Trainer from America's Next Top Model.
Exhibit B: He watches America's Next Top Model.
The suspicions started when DW paid blood money so that he could watch the Elton John concert. In the botanical gardens. With his best friend. Lance. He not only packed a picnic basket with salad and juice boxes, he also packed a blankie. And knew all the words. That's got to be on the top 10 gayest things to do list. Right between Bedazzling your yoga shoes and having anonymous gay sex in the bathroom at Spartacus. Can you picture Clint Eastwood or John Wayne sitting on a blankie in the Valley of Ferns humming along to "Don't Go Breaking my Heart"? No.
What put the final pink nail in his little homosexual coffin though was this conversation:

DW: "Honey, honey, you missed out!!! You should have gone to JP's birthday."
Essie: "Why?"
DW: "Because it wasn't just his birthday was his coming out party!"
Essie: "Well, kudos. What happened?"
DW (high-pitched girly voice): "It was soooo cool...we had burgers...Dominic and I were the only straight guys there...!"
Essie: "Yeah...riiiiiight..."
DW: "They had bets as to whether or not Dom was straight!"
Essie: "What were the odds against you?"
DW: "There were no bets that I was gay!"
Essie: "Ten bucks says you are wrong about that too."
DW: "And then....we went to a gay club."
Essie (evil laughter)
DW: "Oh c'mon, straight guys go all the time."
Essie: "I'm calling my bookie..."
DW: "No, really. I met like...3 girls there."
Essie: "Yeah...those are called "trannies"."
DW: "No, they were real girls!"
Essie: "Fine. 2 trannies and a beard."
DW: "What's a beard?"
Essie: "That's what I do for you. Read up about it on It's my other site."
DW: "You better not blog about this."
Essie: "Try to stop me."
DW (hangs up)

Getting Indecently Proposed to

I watched this old movie on TV the other night - Indecent Proposal. It's about a couple who gets offered like a million dollars by Robert Redford if he could have sex with the guy's wife. This of course led to a discussion between me and my husband as to whether or not we would accept such a proposal. DW was keen on it, but then again I would probably have sex with Robert Redford for free. I think because his face reminds me of dried peaches. This was the discussion.

DW: "I'd say go for it. It's a million dollars. We could split it 50/50."
Essie: "That's unfair. I'd have to do all the hard work."
DW: "How is it hard work?"
Essie: "He's paying a million dollars. I can't just lie there and flip through a magazine like I do at home. He's going to want his money's worth."

But I suppose it doesn't matter. I'm not exactly sure who would pay for the privilege. The only remotely rich person in this country is Raymond Ackermann, but I'm sure he doesn't troll for booty anymore and there is nothing peachy about his face. And I would probably have sex with him for free, too, because let's face it: millions and millions of dollars tends to do that. Gerri Hall said she married Mick Jagger because he was the sexiest man on the planet, and his face has actually been surgically assembled from peaches. And heroin.

My spouse is Weirder than Yours...I've lost count

I walked in on DW wrapping the cat in toilet paper this morning. I have nothing to say about it.

Friday, May 14, 2010

Kudos of the Day: My friend Dan

Kudos of the Day goes to my good friend Dan who has taught me everything I know about fishing...i.e. buggerall. He gets the kudos for catching really big fish in dirty ponds and sleeping in a wet tent all weekend whilst we're all warm inside (that's how ya earn your man card, boys!). And also I asked him to name the big fish after me, and he wouldn't because it's too ugly, so he gets double kudos points for being a kissass. Kudos, Danny :)

My Spouse is Weirder than Yours Part III

DW stormed off in a huff yesterday, over a minor altercation. To be fair, the minor altercation ended with me stabbing him with a bread knife. I'm sorry - but there is not a jury in the world that will convict me. Let me list the stupid, stab-worthy acts he's done over the last two years:

* Painting the cat's nails

* Breaking the window when he locked himself out of the house, then tacking cardboard over the gaping hole

* Having to go to the ER because his boxers melted into his ass because he sat on the Playstation wires for 18 hours straight

* Getting seasickness pills so that he can play Playstation 18 hours straight after getting severe motion-sickness from a first person shooter game

* Puking in the cinema after watching Cloverfield due to motion sickness...and then buying the Cloverfield movie when it came out on DVD

* Failing to unplug a live electrical wire before attempting to saw it in half with a steak knife

* "Building" me an extra kitchen counter by balancing a slab of wood on two smaller slabs of wood balancing precariously on the other kitchen counters

* Superglueing vampire teeth over his real teeth for a halloween party

I'd also like to bring up Exhibit B. This is an ACTUAL CONVERSATION WE HAD.

DW: Are you going to use that gym bottle?

ESSIE: Maybe, why?

DW: I want to put liquid nitrogen in it.

ESSIE: (pauses) Where are you going to get it?

DW: From that farmer across the road.

ESSIE: Why does he have it?

DW: He freezes bull semen with it.

ESSIE (pauses): Do you have bull semen that needs freezing?

DW: No.

ESSIE: What kind of semen do you have?!!!

DW: I want to freeze a little flower with it.


DW: It will look cool.

Essie...walks away.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

On the phone to Telkom

I hate phoning the phone company but it is inevitable. Here was my full hour long conversation, broken down.

ME: "Hi, I'm moving offices, I want to migrate my service package to the new building." (gives the company details and address)

TELKOM GUY: "Your new address does not exist. Do you have a phone number for the office?"

ME: (pause) " That's why I'm calling. To get a new line installed."

TELKOM GUY: "Please hold."

10 minutes later

TELKOM GUY: "The address is 33 Main Road?"

ME: "Yes."

TELKOM GUY: "It doesn't exist."

ME: "I just signed a lease for it...I'm pretty sure it exists."

TELKOM GUY: "Please hold"

10 minutes later

ME: "Any luck?"

TELKOM GUY: " seems to be that the correct address is 33 Main STREET."

ME: "Fine. It's 33 Main Street."
TELKOM GUY: (typing) "Ooooh, sorry, no that doesn't exist either."

ME: "Yes it does. I've been there. I put down a deposit. I have eyewitnesses."

TELKOM GUY: "Well, according to system, it doesn't. We can't find it."

ME: "I'm not a GPS. Look for it."

TELKOM GUY: (typing) "I'm going to put down that the address does not exist yet."

ME: "But it does! I've been there!"

10 minutes later

TELKOM GUY: "M'am, I must at this stage inform you that prank calls will be prosecuted."

ME: "Yes, I am making the world's lamest prank call. Do you have a manager?"

TELKOM GUY: "Please hold."

10 minutes later

TELKOM GUY: "Hi, m'am. I've spoken to our location team. They are going to look for your building."


TELKOM GUY: "Thank you for calling Telkom. We'll call you as soon as we locate the building."

Bizarre Muppets

Remember when the Bert and Ernie Gay Scandal shocked us all? American parents were not happy that the characters were being labelled as homosexual, even though the evidence is overwhelming. (They've lived together for 25 years, bathe together and sleep in the same bed. They also like musicals and sweater vests). Well, South Africa has got them beat. We got Kami - the HIV positive muppet. The Muppet back story is her mother died of AIDS.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Commemorating Auntie Ada

Today is the 8th anniversary of my "aunt" Ada's death. She lived next door to us when I was a child. I remember her spoiling me so much - I used to bring her flowers (stolen from her own yard) and she'd give me cookies. She baked me the best chocolate cake I ever remember eating and used to tape The Smurfs on TV for me, because we didn't have cable TV. She was also married to a cruel man who didn't deserve her, smelt like hair spray and cigarettes and had the kindest smile of any woman I had ever met.
RIP Auntie Ada. I love you still and will never forget you.


Ok here’s the deal. Calories taste good. I’m sorry, that’s a fact. This is steak you cook when you want to indulge. Not indulge like...when you are depressed and eat KFC dipped in mayonnaise by yourself. Indulge in the sense that you feel you deserve to eat something truly delicious.
Buy instant cheddar sauce gravy (2 x packets – the really cheap MSG laden kind), and 1 packet mushroom sauce gravy. Mix them in 750 ml fresh cream. Yes that’s right. 750 ml. 3 x cups of full fat cream. Now grate extra cheese in there, toss in garlic and fried mushrooms, and top it with loads of salt and freshly milled black pepper. (for those of you ARE on diet, you can use Bulgarian yoghurt instead of the cream. Save your calories for the liquor).
Fry up a rare fillet steak and deep-fry potatoes in oil. Cut lines into the potatoes so it really soaks up the fat in the oil. Put the fillet steak and potatoes in a plate and drown in the sauce.
Pour a giant glass of wine. (I went with the Dutoitskloof Hangover Blend a.k.a. Pinotage/Merlot & Ruby Cabernet mix. Because I share an office building with them, and their boss told me I'm the sexiest girl on the planet, and I'm easy like that). Use the biggest glass you have. DRINK UP, EAT UP and don’t obsess about it. That skinny girl at the gym? Lousy in bed. Totally has daddy issues. A nightmare. You don’t want to be her. Men prefer meat on the bones. This is your mantra. Recite it as your jaws move.

New Artwork by talentless people

This is my newest painting I'm working on. As you can see it's almost done. I've improved my brush technique but I suck at naming things. So far this is called, "Girl with Wet Hair".

You know you have a drinking problem when...

Ok, so I went to the liquor store and realized I have a problem. The owner gave me a complimentary bag of ice because I "buy so much brandy, you nice girl, you party-hardy". (That's verbatim, I don't speak Greek cafe owner well, but that's the gist of the conversation.) Also, when I lifted my bag of liquor groceries out of the car, the car visibly raised about 10 cm higher than it was.)
I feel bad but that should go away when I finish this bottle.

My Ouma (gran)

My grandma just turned 85. I gave her a call to see how she's doing and if there are any words of wisdom she has for me.

Essie: "Hey Ouma."

Ouma: "Hallo, how are you?"

Essie: "Good good."

Ouma: "Who's dead?"

Essie: "What?"

Ouma: "You never call and I don't have any money. Who kicked the bucket?"

Essie: "No one."

Ouma: "Are you pregnant?"

Essie: "NO!"

Ouma: "You should think about it. Every child is a gift from God, a little angel."

Essie: "I know, Ouma."

Ouma: "Except the little black ones, they steal."

Essie: "I'm hanging up now."

Ghost Whisperer

DW tried to be nice so he brought home a DVD, but it backfired because the DVD was called Pananormal Activity and now I don't go to the bathroom by myself anymore. I've also become convinced that the stable is haunted and the movie is concerning me because the demon in the movie wanted the woman's soul, and the boyfriend tried to stop it, but DW would throw me to the demon tied up no question. He'd probably draw the chalk pentagram on the floor and everything.

I've researched the problem by watching this other show called Ghost Whisperer that is about a woman who has big boobs and can also see dead people.

I wouldn't want to see dead people because they'd watch you in the shower. And they are gross. And now I don't want to shower either or go to the bathroom alone. Life was less complicated before TV.

Thursday, May 6, 2010

How am I not a widow yet?

My father-in-law Gert works for Yokohama tyres. As a token of respect, his Japanese clients gave him a box of unidentifiable pancakey treats. My father-in-law who is not at all stupid did not eat the pancakes but gave it to DW, who is stupid. DW immediatly proceeded to open the box, which had NO ENGLISH WRITING ON IT whatsoever. (I should explain that DW and I took Japanese lessons for a few months. I quit after a while because I'm lazy and also because I kept embaressing myself by mixing up the words for "city map" and "vagina"). He tore open the little blue packet of seasoning and sprinkled it over the pancakes and dug in.
Turns out that the little blue packet of seasoning wasn't seasoning.
You know those little packets of toxic balls that come in your shoeboxes to keep them smelling fresh. Yup.

Traditional South African Pannekoek

Week 3 and I still have no hot water. I was sitting in front of the wonky heater that DW-real-men-don't-need-instructions-Nagel assembled when I got a sudden craving for real pannekoek. Now this is not American flapjacks or pancakes. It's a thin rolled dough sprinkled liberally with cinnamon sugar and devoured with plenty of Irish coffee on the side. My friend Allen who is from Canada says this is the French method of cooking pancakes and it's called crepes, but I think he is full of crepe. This is pannekoek. I got this recipe from my second mother Annie Pannie. It's my ultimate comfort food. Nothing is better than coming home in the rain to the smell of this delicious doughy goodness. Enjoy!
Mix 3 cups of flour, 1 tspn of salt and 1/2 tspoon baking powder in a mixing bowl. Then beat 3 eggs and 2 cups of water in a separate bowl before combining the two mixtures. If it's too thick, add some water. Then add 2 tablespoons of oil and 2 tablespoons of vinegar.
You have to bake this in a very very warm pan. The first one, traditionally, is a major disaster and gets fed to the dog.

Martha Stewart it up with BBQ Chicken

When it's winter, I like to chuck my dinner into a pot and sit down with some red wine and not think about it.


Make your fave bbq sauce (I like mixing ketchup, soy, honey and a wee bit of Worcestershire sauce but it's up to you), coat a butterflied chicken, cut up some potatoes and simmer while you watch Oprah. Meanwhile, cut up tiny bits of butternut and halve a gemsquash. Cook in boiled water, then scoop out seeds of gemsquash, scoop in butternut and coat with honey or cinnamon sugar.

I polished off some Chateau Libertas with this one, but a white wine is better :)

Breaking news?

Is it just me or has newspapers drastically changed what it is considered "breaking news"? I'd like to quote an article from the Huffintonpost. The title of the article is: Kim Kardashian's Ex Damon Thomas: She Is A Plastic Surgery-Loving 'Fame Whore'.

The article quotes an "exclusive interview" with In Touch magazine: "She can't write or sing or dance, so she does harmful things in order to validate herself in the media," Kim's ex-husband, Damon Thomas tells In Touch exclusively. "That's a fame-whore to me. It's just not cool at all."

I can't believe that In Touch magazine would pay a shitload of money just to hear someone call Kim Kardashian a "talentless plastic surgery-loving fame whore". Isn't that common knowledge??

Kudos of the Day: Honest Beggars

And the nr 1 zombie is...Jesus of Nazareth!!!

The people have spoken! It's official! Jesus of Nazareth is your favourite zombie! And why wouldn't he be!

1) He died for our sins

2) He can walk on water

3) He turned water into wine

4) He pissed off religious leaders

5) He wore cool hippie clothes and hung around in the desert telling us all to be nice to each other. He's like the Biblical Willie Nelson.

Also, there will be two queues in the afterlife. One for those who voted for Jesus in this poll, and one for those who didn't. (Bet you're sorry you voted for "The Rob" now...)

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

You know you are South African when...

You know you're South African if..

1) you can sing your national anthem in four languages, and you have no idea what it means in any of them. Same goes for "Shosholoza".

2) you call a traffic light a "robot", a pickup a "bakkie" and everything remotely fun/enjoyable/tasty as "lekker"

3) your employees dance in front of the building to show how unhappy they are

4) you get cold easily. Anything below 16 degrees Celsius is Arctic weather

5) you know what Rooibos Tea is.

6) you know someone who knows someone who has met Nelson Mandela

7) you go to "braais" not barbeques.

8) you know that there's nothing to do in the Free State

9) you can do your monthly shopping on the pavement

10) you consider hijacking cars as a profession

11) you reckon that the petrol in your tank may be worth more than your car

12) People have the most wonderful names: Christmas, Goodwill, Pretty, Wednesday, Blessing, Brilliant, Gift, Precious, Innocence and Given

13) "Now now" can mean anything from a minute to a month

14) you continue to wait after a traffic light has turned to green to make way for taxis travelling in the opposite direction

15) your travelling at 120 km/h and you're the slowest vehicle on the highway

16) you know that a bullet train is being introduced, yet we can't fix potholes

17) you know that you have to take your own linen with you if you are admitted to a government hospital

18) you have to prove that you don't need a loan to get one

19) you know that prisoners go on strike

20) you consider it a good month if you only get mugged once

21) you take lunch with you when go to the Post Office/Bank/Municipality

22) you love biltong and droëwors.

23) you pay with Bucks, not Rands

24) you don't worry if you don't have a drivers license or registration disc, as long as you have a hundred bucks.

25) you consider a bakkie being a vehicle, not a bowl...

26) you can never find the street your looking for, because the street sign is always missing or unreadable.

27) Cricket and/or Rugby is all the sport you need.

28) you perfectly understand the term "Bring a chop, dop en n pop"

29) the word "Eish" makes you worry horrifically, the word "Sharp" makes you worry somewhat less..

30) the police advise you not to stop if they wave you down in the middle of the night, but rather speed past them and drive to your nearest police station.

31) you continuously vote until the right party wins.

32) your insurance is higher than the repayments on your car.

33) you start joking about the crime rate.

34) Christmas is about watermelon, beach holidays and swimming. Even though we hand out Christmas cards with snowmen on them.

35) Aussies are usually considered nice people until we play them in cricket/rugby, after which they turn into the scum of the earth

36) You know and use the term 'die ref is blind'.

37) You have no idea how to calculate miles, gallons, yards or pints. Or the Farenheit scale.

38) You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other friends from South Africa

How to lose a man card in 10 days

There has been some criticism sent to me by gentlemen who think I take man cards away with no system in place, so I thought I should at least highlight the sure-fire ways that guarantee the revoking of the aforementioned man card.

PLEASE NOTE: Gay men do not have man cards. They have man-tastic cards. It doesn't mean gay men aren't men. It means they are men...and fabulous.


* wearing mascara if you aren’t a rock star (and that means YOU, DW)
* if you have owned a Bedazzler or have been bedazzled
* ordering Bacardi in a bar
* wearing fake tan
* going to see anything peformed "on ice"
* ordering salad in a restaurant
* reading the instructions before attempting to (and breaking) something you are assembling
* waxing ANY part of your body unless you are a porn star or professional cyclist
* doing Yoga, reiki or anything that has been on Oprah
* watching chick flick without a chick
* using/owning an olive oil atomiser
* watching anything with Rosie O'Donell starring in or directing it
* taking longer than 20 minutes to get ready for anything
* using the Internet for research and meaning actual valid research, not boobs
* being a member of the studio audience of The View
* purchasing a Smart Car
* voting for anyone on Idols
* owning a Miley Cyrus CD
* for that matter - owning a Billy Ray Cyrus CD AFTER 1993
* being able to name all 3 Jonas Brothers
* being on a polo team and you are not a member of the Royal Family
* knowing how to make a "white wine reduction"
* if you have ever in an argument as to whether or not the thing you are carrying is a "man-bag"

You get the idea.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Steak so good, he’ll watch a chick flick with you...

...unless he already watches them, like DW. But I gave this to my friend and she swore her husband watched “The Notebook” with her. At least halfway. * Don't worry I took his man card away.


Melt 2 x spoons of butter, add a teaspoon crushed garlic and sauté. Stir in quarter cup of dry red wine (I used the 2008 Baronne Cabernet Sauvignon Shiraz from Nederburg). Add either ½ hot beef stock or ½ cup fresh cream, depending on how rich you want it. Stir in salt and pepper and 1 tbspn of fresh rosemary or 1 tspoon dried rosemary. I prefer fresh, but then I saw my cat peeing in that part of the garden, so I gave up the whole herb garden thing. Add in cooked sliced mushrooms and heat it up.
Steak should be fried SIMPLY with fresh black pepper, salt , soy or Worcestershire sauce and a dash of vinegar to soften it. Seal it quickly by turning it over in a very warm skillet, then fry it quickly. I love mine rare, but it’s up to you.
Fry up some potato wedges and onion rings and drizzle it with a combo of olive oil, sundried tomatoes, chilli and peppers for added zing or serve it plain with barbecue salt if you sampled too much red wine.


*TIP FOR GENTLEMEN: Spoil your woman. Rent an art movie. It’ll make her cry and you will look sophisticated. And there is a good chance you’ll see boobs 15 minutes into the thing.

Being married is like being single only worse because YOU ARE NEVER ALONE...and other fun facts about being married

Marriage surprised me. As I look back on it, there are so many things I wish I had known about it. So here's my wisdom for all you single people who are dreaming about walking the neverending red mile down the aisle.

1. Marriage can be really lonely

Yes, marriage can be lonely. Only YOU ARE NEVER ALONE. And you will LONG TO BE ALONE. Because despite what you may think right now, your loved one is really really annoying. You don't see it but he/she is. His hobbies are stupid. His friends will come over and wreck your shit. He will stop being cute when he is drunk and just be gross and drunk and a bad dancer. He will smell, eat too loudly, critisize your driving and YOU - YOU WILL NAG THE SHIT OUT OF HIM UNTIL YOU CAN BARELY STAND YOURSELF but don't worry oh because YOU LOVE HIM and you are COMMITTED and it's just like The Notebook only you WANT to forget him!!! Other than that, marriage is great. No, really.

2. Marriage can be sexless

Who knew that watching your partner scratching his private parts or puking at 5 am will reduce his sex appeal? And YOU - YOU won't be a sex goddess either. YOU will fail to shave your legs, brush your teeth, you will get sick, you will stop dyeing your roots or going to the gym, you will read about sex in Cosmo and roll your eyes and go, "yep yep I'm not doing that anymore" and you will have weeks where you rub up against your washing machine so much you will start to bond with the thing, give it name (mine is called "Charlie") and get seriously jealous over it. And when you EVENTUALLY do break the dry spell you will call out "Charlie, Charlie" in bed and he won't believe your explanation and then you will have to go for marriage counselling. And it will suck.

3. Marriage means you have to go to a buttload of boring family events

It also means you don't have to sit at the "kiddie table" at Christmas, but for the most part - now you will be expected to attend christenings, bar mitzvahs, barbecues, reunions and 50th, 80th and 100th birthday parties for relatives you don't know or like. And you have to buy a present each time.

4. Your feelings towards your mother will shift inexplicably and drastically

Back when she was "against your love" she was wrong. She was the bad guy. You used to cry on your guy's shoulder and tell him fiercely how she only says she hates his haircut because she is old and dried up and cannot bear to look at two star-crossed lovers brimming with Eastern promise. After marriage, she becomes your number one ally. He becomes the dick. I don't know why the shift happens, but it does.

5. You will discover that you, too, are a bitch

I've beaten my husband over the head with a remote because he kept flipping the channels. I've yelled, screamed and used swear words I didn't even know I knew. When he yelled "OMG, it's Deadpool!" as he was watching X-men cartoons and went into a long description of who Deadpool was, I made a serious and graphic threat on his life. I even paced the yard visualizing where I would toss the corpse.

6. Housework will not double but quadruple

It makes sense that adding 1 more person to your household will add the mess of 1 more person. That's science. NO MY FRIENDS. Your mate will QUADRUPLE the amount of domestic crap you have to do. I no longer have to just wash socks, I have to locate them behind and UNDER the dryer. There are stains that exist in underwear I cannot identify under a microscope. And once when I left on a business trip I came home to discover a pool of dried cat vomit that had gone off in the heat. I didn't think vomit could GO off. But it does. And you will have clean it.

7. Men never change...anything

Not toilet paper rolls. Not your flat tire. Not lightbulbs. Not themselves. He will remain the exact same man he was when you got married, except the two of you now own a set of china together.

8. You will understand why Lorena Bobbitt did it

That woman gets flowers from women in prison. Every day.

9. Men cannot do anything

They think they can. But they can't. They stand around the car, with one foot on the hood, looking at the engine, going "Mmmmmm...." but they don't know what they are looking at. Remember when you told him you knew how to make apple pie? It's like that. It's a lie. They don't know how to fix anything. Put a plumber on speed dial.

10. A successful marriage is not what you think it is

Marriage is not happiness. It's not romance. In the words of my mother-in-law, "You know your marriage is working when you contemplate murder but not divorce."

What is the good news? I believe that when (and if) you do find that special someone, you will be able to handle all of the above. If you have someone you can look at, and honestly say: this person respects me, knows who I am (and still loves me), looks at me like I'm a hero, whistles when I get dressed up, talks to me for hours, doesn't try to bully, manipulate or change me, teaches me how to poke fun at myself, lives to please me and lights up when I walk in the will be able to keep it together. And I believe that you will find the experience of marriage highly, HIGHLY rewarding.

Think before you cheat

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Chinese food you don't have to leave your house for (sort of)

I love Chinese food but ever since I saw a small dog running from a kitchen in a Chinese place in Main Road, Observatory, I don't like to eat there. So I discovered this recipe which is totally awesome.

*3 chicken breasts, cut into VERY small strips (I'm not saying this to mess with you. It tastes better the smaller it is)
* 2 teaspoons light soy sauce

* 1 tbsp cooking wine or white wine vinegar

* 1 tbsp sesame oil

* salt and pepper

Mix it all up and marinate it, then coat it with a thick layer of flour and a wee bit of cornstarch. If you pop it in the fridge for 15 mins the flour will stick better. Meantime, heat a lot of oil on the stovetop for deepfrying.

Mix together:

* 4 tbsp of sweet chilli sauce

* 2-3 tbsp of ketchup (tomato sauce)

* 2 tbsp of honey

* 1 tbsp oyster sauce/fish sauce

* 1/4 cup of water

* sesame seeds (toasted)

...and then boil it on the stove to let it thicken. To toast sesame seeds, just put in a skillet with a little bit of oil - gives it a nice flavor.

Put the flour-coated chicken pieces in the oil and fry it until golden brown and crispy. To really bring out the taste, I like add some cracked black pepper, salt and even a bit of cayenne pepper to the flour before frying it. Drain the chicken on paper towels and mix it with the sauce. Sprinkle with toasted sesame seeds and serve with lightly fried noodles or warm rice. You can also use whole chicken wings or pork ribs for this one.

What Women Want - to my male friends

Ok, I was reading this article entitled "10 Simple Things Women Want" and it reminded me of a book my favourite South African author Darrel Bristow-Bovey wrote. It was so good I have to quote the whole thing right here, word for word, and dedicate to my male friends.


When it comes to finding a mate, there has been much advice bandied about over the years, some of it useful.

"Get yourself a good club and interesting wall paintings, and for God's sake move out of your parent's cave, already," they told Australopithecus man.

"Get yourself a feudal balcony and a village full of loyal peasants who have sworn an oath of vassalge and whose brides you can sleep with on their wedding nights," they told medieval man.

"Get yourself a job, a car and a dark-blue suit," they told men in the 1950s.

"Get yourself some long hair and drugs," they told men in the 1960s.

"Get yourself some dance moves, some dangling neck-jewellery, some assorted varieties of facial hair including sideburns, and a shirt made from a flammable synthetic material," they told men in the 1970s. "Oh, they added, "and forget about the drugs."

"Get yourself a fax machine, a cordless telephone, a gym membership, a job you can't really explain to anyone in a way that would make sense, a car you can't afford and of course - some drugs," they told men in the 1980s. In fact, let's just take that "car you can't afford" as read from now on as well.

"Get yourself a subscription to a glossy women's magazine, your own reflexologist, a private gym instructor, a set of face-care products, a privaste gym instructor, a set of face-care products created especially for men, a career that fulfills you, a creative outlet, a cellphone you don't always feel the need to answer, the ability to cook at least three dishes that don't involve pasta or toast, one or more experiments in quirky facial hair and a drug dealer that delivers to you," they told men in the 1990s.

You will notice that the must-have lists have steadily increased over the years. This is not because women have become more noticably demanding of their men. Indeed, when you look at some of the villains and rotters and generally misshapen detrimentals you see walking with beautiful women in their arms, you will share my suspicions that women demand almost no standards at all of the men they inexplicably select. No, the list of demands has grown because these are the demands we are putting on ourselves!

We are the ones who started saying, "Ooh, you've been right all these years! We are shallow, simple, one-dimensional beings. We do need to add colour to our wardrobe and depth to our lifestyles, in order to best bring out the goddess that is you. Look at me! I'm cooking with capers and something that involves the word "balsamic" in its name, and yet I am still earning a good salary and going to the gym to make my stomach flat! Check it out, I can discuss feng shui, and almost pronounce it correctly! Love me, for I have opinions about interior decoration! See how multidimensional I am! Plus, can I read your copy of Conversations with God when you're finished?"

And women went: "Golly." Because they never expected us to believe all that. They didn't even really believe it themselves. It was just an age-old ritual that we all followed, the same way men don't always mind stopping and asking for directions - we just feel we have to pretend we do. But of course when confronted with this sudden mass offer to unilaterally disarm, women said, "Okay, dandy."

They would have been fools if they hadn't, and of the vast number of things that women are not, fools is right at the top of the list.

So you can't blame them for accepting the offer, but it has resulted in no good for any of us. Because here's the thing: it doesn't work. It certainly doesn't work for men: it is too much effort to improve yourself, especially when deep down your every Y chromosome is yelling out: "This is not an improvement! You were a better man when you had never used an olive oil atomiser! You were a better man when you thought reiki was an oriental technique for gathering up loose leaves!"

It is too much effort and you generally fail at it, which leaves you feeling like a failure, which is never good for your sex life.

And the women aren't happier either. Women, God help them, like men. They have liked us for years, for centuries, forever - just as we were. I can't understand it any more than you can. It's one of those facts of life. If we stop to question it, chaos ensues. And that is what we have done: we have questioned it. We have set out to be better.

And now we are not the men that women have learned to resentfully love and lovingly resent, and that means women are as confused and listless as we are. It is even worse for them, because they have finally got what they want, and it isn't what they want!!! They are sitting there thinking: do I really, in the deepest part of me, want to share my life with someone who cares so much about whether Ally McBeal could ever find true love with Robert Downey Jr? Sure, he takes a lot of drugs and he'd never be home much, but in a weird sort of way - that's kinda sexy.

(Darrel then goes into a long spiel about how men should embrace their "inner ostrich egg" and their "inner Oprah"...but i won't copy that in! Rather he teaches men to be simple creatures...and that most women will be happier if you just SHUT UP)


Play it smart. When she says, "What are you thinking about?" - and you know she will - consider your response.

Don't say: "I was wondering what you were thinking about." That is sad, and not at all mysterious.

Don't say: "I was thinking about how much I love you", because this is not only untrue but it devalues one of the last cards you have left to play. One day you will need that card to get out of a mess of sticky trouble, my friend, and you will be grateful you still have it up your sleeve.

I would also counsel against honesty here. "I was thinking about what time the game starts on Saturday" is simply giving away too much of yourself. Keep it cagey. Don't answer directly. Instead look out of the window and say: "Isn't it odd to think that Mozart/Noah/Golda Meir looked up the very same moon?"

Do not misunderstand: this is not going to fool her into thinking that you really were musing on the vagaries of time, the flesh and the ever-changing world. It doesn't matter. Understand clearly: she doesn't want to know what you're really thinking. She wants you to provide a blank canvas on which she can paint her deepest dreams of what you might be like. Embrace it!*

* As a woman I must vouch that every single word is true!

10 Reasons why I hate Oprah

I know, I one will agree with this post, but it needs to be said.

1. Oprah is more powerful than the Pope, the American President and our own common sense.

I don't know why or how it happened. But it did. And we need to think about whether we really want to grant absolute power to a woman who regularly sings the names of her guests and cannot apply her own lipliner. Also, a small part of me is terrified that she's going to see this and have me killed.

2. Oprah has got me in her power

When Oprah tells me to buy a book, I buy the book. When Oprah asks me about my financial status, I take out a pension plan. When Oprah buys flannel pajamas, I buy flannel pajamas. If Oprah were to tell me to become a Communist, I would be erecting the Karl Marx statue along with the rest of my flannel pajamas.

3. Oprah is the reason why Dr Phil, Dr Oz, Gail King and many other really crap TV personalities got their shows

And you know you have to watch them. She told us to.

4. Oprah is the reason George Bush got elected

Before George Bush went on that show, everyone thought he was a retard. Oprah - at the very least - made him look...mildly less retarded.

5. Oprah is the reason why I've spent an hour listening to Gary Zukov

And that is 55 minutes too long.

6. Oprah is the reason we all sort of know what it means to "remember your spirit"
Remember that segment? How do you "forget your spirit"? It's not like you'd go on Who wants to be a Millionaire, and have Regis ask you, "Ok, for a hundred thousand dollars, can you tell us what the immortal part of you that will live after your death is?" and afterwards you'll be all like, "I can't believe i forgot my spirit...I should have remembered my spirit..."

7. Oprah keeps forgetting that she just acted in an Alice Walker movie, she didn't actually live in one

Oprah grew up poor. I also grew up poor. But if you listen to her "I grew up poor" stories you'd swear she had to steal a tub of butter from the Massah's kitchen, lard up her wrists to slip off the manacles and run from the plantation with Simon Legree cracking a bullwhip over her bloodied back.

8. Oprah's show is a blog

Oprah's show does not inform, teach or inspire. Oprah's show is bullshit. Much like this blog, Oprah spends all her time speaking about Oprah and Oprah's opinions. It is sad that I can't identify 95% of world leaders or remember the periodic table, but I can tell you the names of Oprah's dogs.

9. Oprah doesn't need an Angel network

Oprah keeps begging us for money. She cries. She campaigns. Why does she need money from the public for her charity projects? Sure, Oprah has good days and bad days like the rest of us. But on Oprah's bad day, she still has enough money to buy Thailand.

10. O magazine, O clothing, and O movies

and everything else that is O so bad.

Never pretend you know anything about cars and this is how i know

Like all women, I have 3 great hobbies: shopping, watching romantic comedies and being right about everything. So, after my good friend Matt explained to me what the probable causes to my car trouble was (he claims this is due to his years as a biker, but I'm pretty sure he googled it to get his man card back), I went down to the gas station to rectify the problem. This is how it went down.

Me (nonchalant): "Hi, yeah. My oil level is low and when I put the brakes on there is not enough left to register at the pump sender, and then when I am in park it is not creating enough pressure at the pump and the light comes on. So I need some oil. Like, now."

Amused Gas Station Man: "Ok, yeah, that sounds right. Must say we don't get a lot of women who know their cars in here."

Me: "Oh, really? Well, it is the twentieth century...feminism did happen, y'know."

Amused Gas Station Man: "Don't I know it. Just pop the front and we'll take a look."

Me (blank face)

Amused Gas Station Man: "Pop the hood, miss."

Me: "Um..."

Amused Gas Station Man (gesturing): "There should be a lever..."

Me (pops open gas cap)

Amused Gas Station Man: "Not that lever, miss."

Me (pops open trunk of car)

Amused Gas Station Man (leans into window and pops the hood underneath the steering wheel)

Me (still acting cool and authoritative, frantically starts playing with glove box)

Amused Gas Station Man (shows me the dipstick): "Yeah, here you go. How much do you want?"

Me: "Ummm..."

Amused Gas Sation Man: "I think you need about 2 cans."

Me: "Yeah..yeah...I think so too."

Amused Gas Station Man: "What kind do you want?"

Me (blank face): "There are different kinds?"

Amused Gas Station Man: "Yes, miss."

Me: "Which one does Tyra Banks use?"*

Amused Gas Station Man (thinking): "I think she'd go for the Helix."

Me: "Gimme 2 of that then." (whips out 400 bucks in small bills)

Amused Gas Station Man: "'ll be 26.50, Miss."


* She was right about tissue oil. I figured if anyone should know its her.

Saturday, May 1, 2010

DW's blog ideas and other disasters

My husband DW stumbled upon my blog. (OK, not stumbled upon. I went, Hey DW, check it out I got a blog and he looked). Surprisingly he was not offended by it and has instead been harassing me with new blog topics.
* Did Jesus invent the toilet seat? His Dad invented pooping so we don’t know.
* Before and after shots of food
* Guest blog by DW Nagel: I am not an idiot, even though she says so, she’s actually a very unreliable person and not at all funny in real life
I don’t think there’s anything in here worth publishing but I can’t risk offending him. He’s my biggest source of material.


So there is this twitter guy who got a book deal and a TV show just writing about stuff his dad says. I thought it was worth a shot. And my dad is pretty funny, regardless.

Me: Hey Dad.

Dad: Your mother isn't home.

Me: Oh, no, I'm looking for you.

Dad: (pause) Why?

Me: I got car trouble I think.

Dad: Didn't I give you away at the altar?

Me: (pause) Um...yeah...?

Dad: I GAVE YOU AWAY. You should be his problem.

Me: The oil light keeps going on when I step on the brake.

Dad: Don't step on the brake anymore.

Me: Um. I don't think I can avoid it.

Dad: So...tape something over it if the light bothers you.

Me: Wait, so my car is NOT broken?

Dad: It probably is, knowing you.

Me: Are you still upset over that CD player? I was 14.

Dad: That doesn't make it any less broken.

Me: (sigh) Give my love to Grandma.

Dad: You do the same with whatsisname.

Me: Bye Dad.

Dad: Your mom will be here at 7.


Dad: Okay.