Ostriches: Criminals of the Savannah

Here is rare footage of me being attacked by a vicious male ostrich. Let it be known that a male ostrich can slice you open with their big toe, and often do. Without provocation.

PS. Dave says that the ostrich was not “attacking” me. I lured it closer with a bag of dried corn to “see what would happen”. And that there was a giant fence separating us. And that all of this took place at a petting zoo.

I'd like to add that he didn't exactly rush to my aid either.  He claims he was “too busy laughing” at me screaming and throwing corn at the ostrich. But he did acknowledge that if he hadn’t warned me, the ostrich would have pickpocketed my handbag. I looked up just in time to see it’s ridiculous little head examining my new cell phone. Motherfucker.

Hey it looks like I'm holding my boob in this one. I got your corn right here, asshole!

Strangely, it did not "go" for my boob.

Check out Dave's ass.

Since they are both killing-machines, the ostrich gives Dave "five" as a sign of respect

What unfortunate Christmas lights...

Do I look like I cook dinner?

Totally random day. A door-to-door pot salesman found his way into our office. And not the “fun” kind of pot. The kind I cook Dave cooks my dinner in. He interrupted our meeting and starting giving us a sales pitch for his R8500 set of pots (that’s roughly 1000 USD for those of you who earn real money and don’t have to live off gruel and Mopani worms, like me).

SALESPERSON: “These pots cannot break. If you drop them on the tiles, the tile will break, but not the pot.”

ESSIE: “I don’t want my tiles to break.”

SALESPERSON: “Yes, but the pot...”

ESSIE: “No, seriously. Retiling a kitchen floor is like ten times more expensive than buying a new pot. If I had to choose between the tiles, and your pot, I want the pot to lose.”

SALESPERSON: “Well, it won’t really shatter your tiles...”

ESSIE: “How does it hold up against gunfire? Because I mainly use my pots to fashion makeshift armour for myself. Or to use as drums, as a means of communication. And sometimes for curry."

SALESPERSON: “Um. The pots aren’t really...that...”

ESSIE: “So, basically...you lied to me.”

SALESPERSON: “No, it’s just a figure of speech.”

ESSIE: “I’ve never heard that figure of speech. And I have, like, a Masters’ Degree in Language.”

SALESPERSON: “Linguistics?”

ESSIE: “Whatever. I don’t want your pots.”

SALESPERSON: “You can stack the pots in a tower and cook meat, rice and vegetables all at once.”

ESSIE (thinking): “OK. That’s pretty badass.”

I didn't buy them though. I lost all my money buying magic beans furniture and now am trying to save for a teacup pig that I saw on TV and immediatly and without forethought decided I MUST purchase.

Does anyone know the number of a cryptzoological exterminator? No? Didn't think so.

There are weird markings in the ceiling above the shower of my new place.

My old neighbor, Marius, who used to live there never mentioned it. I can only assume this is what happened:

It also explains why he left so suddenly, and without warning.

How to tell if your colleagues are demotivated

We wanted to design a banner ad for our new company website.

Here's what I requested:

Here's what I got:

I think it gets the point across, but I'm somewhat hesitant to upload it.

Happy Birthday SUPERDAVE

It's very rare that you get to say thank you to someone in a public forum, so here goes: Happy 35th Birthday SuperDave! I've counted all the ways you rock below, because your ego is not nearly big enough sometimes...You are awesome! Have a great day!

I've got a LOT on my plate right now...

Remember when Superdave said he’d come over to fix up my place in what *may* have been an elaborate ruse to get me into bed and I was all like, “No - my place is unfixable” and he scoffed at the idea and eventually I gave in and allowed him to see the place and then he was all like, “OMG, this place IS unfixable” and then I said, “It’s not so bad” and then he said, “This place should be condemned” and then I was like “that’s really offensive” and then he was like, “Wtf is up with all these zombie survival guides?” and I was like, “You gotta be prepared” and he was like, “What about vampires?” and I was like, “I think we’ve established that I can take a vampire in a fight, you moron” and then he had that look of dread he always gets when he realizes I’m not trying to be funny and now we’re moved into the stable next door? Remember? Ok good.

SD: “This is the perfect use of space. And it looks classy, clean and upmarket.”

ESSIE: “You know what we should get though?”

SD: “A Plasma screen tv?”

ESSIE: “A goat.”

SD: “This isn’t going to work out, is it?”

I’m enjoying it because on the one hand I have furniture - which is good - but on the other hand SuperDave is the neatest human being on the planet whereas I am somewhat like a hurricane that wears jeans and has a 9 to 5. I'm trying not to get too comfortable in the house. It’s like when you are little and your mom has bought you a really cool new dress but she won’t let you play in it because you’ll just get it dirty. The new house is my dress. Playing in it is a metaphor for playing in it, because I still have all those old water pistols left over from last year when I tried to "shoo" the owls off my roof.

However, we’ve decided to divide the chores in a way that plays on our individuals strengths to keep the house orderly.

DAVE:

All home repairs
Furniture assembly
Put up pictures
Driving
Shopping
Cooking
Dishes
Cleaning (general)
Laundry
Vacuuming
Dusting
Folding
Feeding the cat
Washing the car
Remembering birthdays and appointments
Stocktake of groceries
Keeping fridge clean and defrosted
Sweeping, mopping, waxing
Arranging CDs and DVDs in alphabetical order
Bug control
Filling documents
Window washing
Entertaining guests and organizing parties

ME:

Being Awesome

Really, I think he got a good deal.

Um...no, just no.

So I was trying to figure out what this rash is  doing medical research for my job and found this "yahoo answers" site for people who want medical advice. Oh...my...GOD. These people DESPERATELY need to go to the doctor, but they just don't. Instead they ask advice from The Internet, which is never a good idea and also exactly how I ended up throwing hot olive oil down my ear last year when I had mono and why my friend Dee ended up washing her hair with mayonaise before her prom. (Conclusion: an evil salad dressing conglomorate is behind WebMD.)

Some of the stuff on there is pretty wicked.

Dear Schwinn Bike,

No, you cannot get sick from doing this. But the rest of us just did.