Free Comic Book Day

Tomorrow is Free Comic Day. I have to make up a lie in advance to tell my husband, or else I have to join him in front of the store at 5 am so we can be the first in the queue. Last year I got squished between aggressive Japanese people rummaging through the 50% Manga bins and I'm pretty sure the 45-year old guy dressed up like Captain America fondled me just to make the overweight Catwoman jealous. The whole thing reeks of cheese puffs and despair.

5 Secrets Men Keep - reviewed

I was reading this online article entitled ">"5 Secrets Men Keep" alledgedly written by a man. Pfft.
I'm skeptical for two reasons:
1) Men don't share their secrets. It's in the bro code.
2) They are horribly inaccurate.
I insist that this man has his "man card" revoked. What kind of a man writes for "Glamor" magazine anyway? But here is, according to Glamor, the five secrets men keep, with my commentary:

Any feelings we harbor for an ex are eclipsed by the love for our first Playboy.

Men don't love their exes. Men hate their exes. When you dump a man you, as my friend Matt once put it to me, "step on their dick". And they don't like that. Not even in a playful way. There is no need to obsess over their exes. But by all means, sit outside her house and throw eggs on her car if it makes you feel better. I once had a bf's ex spread a rumor that I was lesbian. I started a rumor that she once stole a baby. At first it worked really well, but then people started asking me where the baby was and then I told them she ate it and the whole thing kinda backfired in a ugly scene. The lesson to be learnt is: spread malicious rumors but stick to believable ones. Cannibalism isn't as believable as you'd think. I don't know about the first Playboy either. But if I had one, I would have found it along with the pimpshoes.

We hear only the first half of what you say. It’s a medical condition.

Correction: they don't hear anything we say. When we speak they hear that "whop whrop waa waa" noise Charlie Brown characters hear when grownups speak. Unless you speak about boobs. In which case they hear "whrop whrop waa waa boobs whrop waa waa". In fact, studies show that using the word "boobs" regularly during conversation increases the amount a man hears by 43%.*

There’s no correlation between how happy our sex life is and how much we use the Western grip in private

This one took me aback. I've never heard of the "Western Grip"**. I've heard many cute masturbation catch phrases but not of this one. I can't vouch for it's authencity. In fact it threw me for so much of a loop that I completely forgot my point about this statement and started googling "Western Grip" and "masturbation phrases" and then I remembered my boss checks my search history and know I know she's going to get that look in her eye in a few minutes.

Sex and the City was a hit with men, too, because we saw it as a wildlife doc on how women behave.

Correction: Sex and the city was a hit with men, too. Because it had boobs.

Hooters’ wings stop tasting good when we have a daughter.

If nothing else, this statement should prove the invalidity of this article. Hooters' wings may be the best thing I've ever eaten. In fact, I googled the recipe and make it regularly at home. Even if your daughter is working at Hooters as a stepping stone to starting her own escort agency, Hooters' wings will still taste good to you. If it doesn't, I have nothing to say to you.

* I made this up.
**The Western Grip (tennis term): is obtained when placing the hand such that the base knuckle of the index finger is right on the 5th bevel. Compared to the Continental grip, the blade has rotated 135 degrees. This forces the wrist in an uncomfortable twist but allows for the greatest possible spin. This is basically equivalent to the Eastern Backhand grip, except that the SAME face of the racquet is used to strike the ball. The western grip generates maximum topspin and power. Because of the angle of your tennis racquet when you use the western forehand grip, you should make contact with the ball a bit earlier than you would with the eastern forehand grip.
That sounds about right.

Kudos of the Day: Cruz, the Facebook Dude

I keep getting weird facebook messages from a Phillipino militant. I've attached a picture. I'm not complaining, I'm bragging. I'll take my attention where I can get it. So kudos of the day goes to Cruz the Facebook Dude.

What's cookin' good-looking

My husband rented this movie called Julie & Julia (I told you he's a bit of a pansy). It's about how a blogger achieved fame and fortune by cooking her way through a French cookbook. Since I'm not sure you people want to read about reheated pizza, I've decided to actually cook something.

CHICKEN ESPENADA WITH CHEAT'S TSATSIKI

Prep time: 20 minutes

Served with: Fresh watermelon and cucumber

Vintage: A fine 201o Klipdrift brandy and Coke (what!)

Chop some chicken fillets into blocks and marinate in cayenne pepper, black pepper, crushed chillis, Worcestershire sauce, a bit of vinegar, garlic and onion. Picture your mother-in-law and say a little voodoo chant as you pierce the chicken with two skewers. Lightly fry in a pan with some water and oil until steamed and yummy.

For the tsatsiki, mix a carton of plain yoghurt, half a grated cucumber, salt and pepper, a spoon of vinegar and a spoon of garlic. It's not tsatsiki. But insist that it is. I also sliced a butternut into rings, steamed with a little water and then covered it with cinnamon sugar. It's yummy and also a vegetable so it made me feel good about myself. And as my friend indignantly said today, "It's not fattening. It has no fat, it's just sugar!"

I served it with some fresh watermelon for dessert. DW isn't home tonight so I made Sweeney Todd pose with the food. He liked it but he eats horsemeat for breakfast every day so what does he know? A nice sweet Port wine or a light Sauvignon Blanc would compliment the chillies but brandy and Coke tastes good with everything so there you go.

10 types of men you haven't dated and probably should

Had a chat with a single friend last night. Apparently it's becoming harder and harder to meet quality single men. I've thought a little bit about this, did some research and came up with a wealth of bachelor groups that you probably have not considered yet.

1. Evil clowns

Never underestimate a sense of humor. They are evil. But they are still clowns.

2. Ex-convicts

Ex-cons have a lot going for them. At least you know they'll be grateful to be with a real woman and not with a blubbery guy with nipples tattoo'd on his back fat. And they could totally shiv your ex-boyfriend. That'll show him.

3. The homeless

We know there is a lot of them, and they are easy to meet.

4. Coma patients

Can you think of a better listener? Who knows, he may even wake up and you can pull a While You Sleeping on him and his unsuspecting family.

5. 50-year old men who live with their mothers

I can't think of a perk but you shouldn't be so picky.

6. Polygamous Zulus

It's worked well for all 3 our First Ladies here in South Africa.

7. Yetis and other mythical creatures

They may be hard to spot but you can sell the rights to your children's baby pictures to OK! magazine. And probably appear on Oprah.

8. My husband De-Wet

He's not technically single (yet) but I'll be glad to get rid of him Mondays, Wednesdays and weekends. We can do "halfsies". He can be a epic jerk at times but he has his own car and a wealth of Playstation-related stories.

9. Cryogenically frozen rich dudes

He'll be there for you in the future, and he's loaded. Technically this is the dream guy.

10. Dead people

Remember Ghost? Apparently more people are seeing them, and making shows and movies about them. This is whole new dating market we have not yet begun to explore. But if you break up you stand the risk of being harassed by a poltergeist.

The Legend of the Loch Ness Worm: even less scary than the original AND the copy

Hi girls - remember why you didn't date science geeks in high school?

Apparently the same people you didn't invite to your sleepovers has now discovered a rare worm in the flatlands of Idaho.

I quote: "Scientists scouring prairie land in Idaho have discovered a white worm whose fabled existence had drawn comparisons with the Loch Ness Monster." (Yes, many a time when I was a child my father would regale me with tales of the fabled white worm whose birth would signify the dawn of a mystical era for mankind, bringing hope and laughter blah blah blah boring bullshit)

I've attached the article without witty commentary because I find it funny enough as it is.

Sighted only a handful of times in 30 years and feared to have become extinct since 2005, the Palouse earthworm was reputed to spit at predators, smell of lilies and grow up to three feet long.

Sadly, the specimens discovered by conservationists from the University of Idaho do none of these things.

"One of my colleagues suggested we rename it the 'larger than average Palouse earthworm'," said Prof Jodi Johnson-Maynard, whose team started hunting for the creatures last summer in the heavily farmed Palouse region on Idaho's border with Washington state.
The adult worm they have discovered measured no more than 12 inches fully extended while a younger one was six or seven inches. The worms have translucent bodies, pink heads and bulbous tails. The adult was killed for dissection. The elusive animals, also rumoured to live in 15ft-deep burrows, were discovered after the scientists developed high voltage electric shockers that were stuck in the ground to draw worms to the surface.
The giant Palouse earthworm was said to have been common in the 1890s but much of its natural prairie habitat of steep, silty dunes had since been turned into agricultural land, apparently causing numbers to dwindle.
Prof Johnson-Maynard said that stories about the worms' giant length may have started because a boy found one and swung it around so vigorously in the air that it stretched.
She said the discovery was a "good day" for the worm as many had previously believed it had never even existed. (www.telegraph.co.uk/science)

Well, I'm glad the worm is having a good day. I'm sure Prof Johnson-Maynard can die in peace now, having seen the "elusive Loch Ness worm". All I can add is that THAT thing in the photo is an earthworm. Don't try to convince me otherwise. We've already established that:

1) It looks like an earthworm

2) It doesn't spit fire or smell like lilies

3) It is NOT 3 feet long

What are they EXCITED about??? I found a field mouse in my trash yesterday, you don't see me on here claiming I found the yeti? Seriously, there are things living behind my sink more exciting than that thing. Good job, America. You have now wasted thousands of dollars of grant money and you discovered...earthworms. I already discovered those when I was like, five.

The first sign that your gene pool needs chlorine

I just got a frantic call at work from my husband, DW.

DW: Why the fuck isn't my computer working?

Essie: Oh, yeah, wait...remember when we had the power failure...?

DW: I don't want to know WHY it's not working, I want you to tell me how to switch it on!!

Essie: You don't have to yell at me. I was just telling you that last week when the power kept tripping...

DW (hysterical girly voice): This is exactly WHY I don't want you working on my stuff, you break everything...now how the hell am I supposed to fix this, I need...

Essie: I'm trying to explain to you...

DW: I have invoices! I have things to do! I've just wasted half an hour disassembling this thing because YOU have to...

Essie (screaming): IT'S UNPLUGGED MORON!!!

DW (hangs up)

How I love our little talks.

Sunset at my house

Some things too beautiful not to share even if it does not raise my self-esteem by belittling others.

Just snapped this picture of the sunset over the vineyards in my backyard.

Why men can't remember...anything

My husband woke me up this morning at 6 am looking for his "hair wax". I'm not sure what that even is, but I haven't seen it. I've said many a time that the man needs GPS coordinates to find the ketchup. Admittedly I'm not the tidiest housekeeper on the planet but we only have 2 rooms in our cottage and there are only so many places it could be.

I googled the problem and apparently it's not entirely his fault. Memory loss is a distinctly male problem. So when he's forgetting where he put his hair wax, his hair gel, his guyliner, his manbag (apparently he has also forgotten that he is male...let's face it I'm not the one who forked over 500 bucks to see a certain male pianist with large glasses perform in the Botanical gardens last month...I'm not naming names but it rhymes with "Belton John").

The American Academy of Neurology in Chicago calls it MCI or mild cognitive impairment which can lead to dementia and men are one-and-a-half times more likely to have it than women. They haven't found the reason for it. In a related study, men suffering from the condition are over 80% more likely to be strangled by angry spouses than those who do not.

Step away from my chest its about to burst open

Well, I’ve been impregnated by aliens. I can only assume that because:
1) I’ve been vomiting in the mornings and seem to be gaining weight (this has NOTHING to do with those 9 rum 'n cokes I had last weekend)
2) I haven’t been visited by an angel or had sex
3) There is a suspicious spot on my lawn that can only be described as “crop circle-esque”
4) The hot water in my shower doesn’t work and I haven’t been able to bathe probably in 3 days which has nothing to do with pregnancy but I've been trying to figure out a way to bitch about it

I spoke to my friend Thinus who is somewhat of an expert on these things and he does think I may have a case because of the crop circle whatzemedoozit on the lawn, but that the other 3 points are entirely coincidental. He did, being somewhat scientific minded (and also a dick) point out that points 1 and 4 are probably the reason why point 2 hasn’t happened and exactly how long HAS it been since I’ve last gotten laid but then I hung up and googled around until I found a picture of what my alien baby would probably look like.

My Spouse is weirder than yours Part II

Gentleman, you know that when you leave for work we women compulsively go through your shit right? I could try to give you the totally reasonable and justifiable reasons we use when we get caught but let's face it...it's because a) we don't trust you, and you know why and b) in order to be as exceedingly good as we are at winning argument, we need to gather intel. (Ever had one of those fights where you foolishly wave a credit bill in your wife's face, only to have her scream, "Oh yeah, well, I'm not the one who spent 350 bucks on a 1982 Spiderman action figure! Who's taking the food outta' the kids' mouths now, asshole!!!" Yup. That's how. You play video games you should understand this shit.) For those of you learning this for the first time, go home. Hide the Playboys. It's something you need to accept when you get married, along with the fact that you will suddenly and inexplicably lose your ability to ever be right ever again.

So anyway, I'm "cleaning the closet" and find what cannot be described as anything other than...pimp shoes. Yes, that's right. Pimp shoes.

I've been trying to come up for possible reasons WHY he would purchase and hide pimp shoes from me and the only plausible theories I've been able to come up with includes:

1. He's going to a costume party that I am not invited to (which has given me a complex already because I can't figure out which one of our mutual friends likes him more than me...I mean, come on, I don't have a lot going for me but I'm charming as hell)

2. He's a pimp

Now, theory 2 is not my favorite. It means that he is a) hiding brothel money from me, b) consorting with prostitutes (even if it IS for business reasons, that's just not cool) and c) he's hiding it all from me which DENIES me the opportunity to mock and berate the shit out of him.

Still I seriously doubt he's got the ability to run a brothel behind my back. If you can't remember to change the toilet paper roll, you lose credibility.

Anyway I've attached a picture. You be the judge.

Someone has to marry the serial killers

Most of you who know me know that I live on a run-down wine farm/hippie colony with two young guys (gay), our friend Marius (straight, single) and my cat Sweeney (bi-curious). Watching all this has equipped me with a wealth of relationship knowledge I'd like to share with you:

1. The pointier a women's shoes, the more high-maintenance she is.

2. It's Ok to have a special place for him/her in your heart. It's not Ok to have a special place in your basement for that person.

3. Men, never look at a woman and decide she's out of your league. Let her decide why she doesn't want to sleep with you, don't do it for her.

4. Ladies, men are easy to please. Feed them and tell them they are wonderful and you're pretty much set. Cancel the Cosmo subscription, you don't need it.

5. If you KNOW your man did something wrong, confront him on it. Don't "act suspicious", ask him questions and then beat him over the head with the answers.

6. Forgive easily. Forget easily. But first secretly tell all his friends he's fessed up to having gay fantasies. Unless you are two gay men. In which case, tell all his friends he's using fake tan or something. I dont' really know how you people think.

7. Go ahead, get fat. He loves you, he'll stay. If he tries to leave you, sit on him. Either way you get to eat chocolate.

8. Don't be too suspicious, but don't trust too easily either. Most serial killers are married. Someone has to marry the serial killers. Don't let it be you.

9. Listen to your mother's advice CAREFULLY before ignoring it. We both know you are going to do what you want to do anyway.

10. If your facebook status says "it's complicated", it's probably not a real relationship.

11. You know the truth about men with big feet? They wear big shoes. That's all you should expect, or you'll end up disappointed.

12. Pretend you didn't notice she has cellulite and everyone will be a lot happier.

13. A frying pan is never a good anniversary gift. Anything that doesn't sparkle and that she can use to kick your ass is not a good anniversary gift.

14. When you are single, people at weddings are bound to treat you like you have an expiry date. Come prepared with photoshopped pictures of you and Steve Hofmeyer/Jesse James/Donald Trump. They are going to want to challenge you, but let's face it...the odds are just as good that you are NOT making it up.

15. If all else fails, hug a statue. It makes you feel better.

My spouse is weirder than your spouse

My husband's got another movie coming up soon. Look for it in the "discount" bin at a DVD store near you. I'm not sure where the acting bug bit him...but ever since he portrayed that gay zombie in a student film, he's been quite keen on it.

Now – as thrilled as I was that he had gotten an acting gig, as ecstatic as I was that the armies of the undead are finally equal opportunity employers, as happy as I was to have the house to myself for an entire weekend during the film shoot…I was less than pleased being confronted with a pile of blood and viscera-soaked metrosexually appropriate clothing. (Almost as displeased as my Darling Other Half was when the producer saw his favourite silk Hawaiian shirt on set and whispered, "Oh my God, that's perfect! That's the gayest piece of clothing I've ever seen!" He was not in costume yet. He has had that shirt since Standard Six and wears it at least twice a week.)
A friend introduced us during some godawful church-sanctioned function. (For those of you who do not know, I work as a marketing manager for the Association of Dutch Reform churches. It's also not boring, but it's not easy either. How do you sell church in this day and age? "Do you like…sitting on hard benches? Drinking tea? Abstaining from sex? Well, then, have I got a deal for you!!!" I frequently wish I could get a job with the Islamists, dress like a ninja and campaign against the infidels, but they are not hiring.)
The meeting was pretty memorable for two reasons: a) he didn't have dress sense six years ago either, and b) I had that wonderful feeling you get when you meet someone special and you know – you just know – like some writer once said, that you will not get through this experience with your knees together.
The only minor hiccup was that we were both in relationships at the time, but we were so positively overwhelmed discovering each other that it didn't matter. (He was in a relationship where the other person threw things. I was in a relationship where I was doing the throwing. It was dysfunctional all around.)
We started out as friends, which is great, because you discover the other person's Crazy all at once. The Crazy, for those of you who aren't familiar with the term, is that part of your personality that you keep hidden in order to avoid the loonie bin. We all have the Crazy. Some less, some more. My husband and I both have it in bucketfuls. All his shirts have to be arranged according to color. And have to be folded EXACTLY the same size. Clothing in the closets arranged according to length. All the coat hangers must match (and can only be white). All CDs and Books must be kept alphabetically. All cereals and groceries must be categorized and stacked in rows. All toiletries – shampoo, toothpaste, toothbrushes – must be white and match. He will only wear white socks. . I can’t buy any other color, even though, as a fashion lover, I can’t tolerate white socks on anyone but tennis players and newborn babes. He takes photos with his phone of all the cars that park next to him when we go out to the mall, in case one of them accidentally scratches his car. He will only use brands that existed between 1985-1990 (his first five years of life). He will only use pristine wooden clothes pegs for hanging laundry (matching, of course). Dirty dishes must be piled in a certain order or he will not wash them. If this does not happen, he goes into a dormant, depressive state and cannot function like a normal human being. It's like kryptonite. This also proves that opposites attract because my approach to most household and laundry items involves buying things that do not wrinkle, bundling it up, chucking it inside the closet and closing the door very quickly.
I really enjoyed the friendship phase of our relationship. I never knew that so many awful movies existed. It become our ritual – picking me up from work, having a burger, and going to the Labia to see Kimura the Giant Fleshing-eating Turtle from Tokyo Part II (or something similar).
When I finally broke it off with my boyfriend, I told him the sad news and he immediately responded with a grin and, "I'm really sorry to hear that…what are you doing Friday night?"
Our first real date was a picnic halfway up Tygerberg hill. (It was going to be all the way on top of Tygerberg hill, but he was a heavy smoker at the time and collapsed after ten minutes' worth of climbing).

So this post is dedicated to my spouse. You might be a flaming weirdo. But life with you has not been boring.

People to kill 2010

1. People who do put their indicators on when turning until the very last minute, causing my shitty car to make a screeching noise that makes me feel like I'm minutes away from death

2. Justin Bieber (whoever that is)

3. Recyclists who look at me in judgment when I buy loads of new plastic bags with my groceries and then throw them away

4. Marketing managers who make up words like "ayoba" and "yebo yes" and make us use them

5. Whale killers

6. The Jews (kidding!)

7. The 2010 soccer world cup mascot

8. Oprah's biographer

9. The old man that messes up the weather forecast on the 8 o'clock news

10. People walk really slowly in front of me at the mall

11. People who wear crocs

12. The cocky private trainer at the gym who yells at you and struts around the machines whom i hate but secretly sort of want to sleep with

13. Whoever used up the ink cartridge in my printer

14. The technical support staff at Telkom (IF they even exist)

15. The man that mows his lawn really loudly at 5 am on a Saturday

CARRIED OVER FROM 2009:

1. Everyone who referred to 2007 as "double oh double ooh ta-da-da-daaaa" (james bond theme). I haven't found them all yet.

2. The people who kept clogging up my inbox with Viagra ads

3. Robert Mugabe (world class ratbag)

4. Sarah Palin

5. People who forward 5 MB powerpoint heavy emails and the people who make them

DISCLAIMER: I'm not saying I'm actively gunning for these people. But they walked in front of my car I won't overexert myself when hitting the brakes.
In a related note, it saddens me that adding Justin Bieber to my "tags" will increase the number of hits I get on this blog.

Spice up your dirty talk with pasta

My decidedly strange husband DW just called me ranting about 3 x packets of instant noodles that have gone missing.

DW: "Did you move my noodles?"
ME: "What are you talking about?"
DW: "My two minutes noodles...you moved them!"
ME: "Um...you move my noodles, too, baby..."
DW: "What are you talking about?"
ME: "Aren't we having phone sex?"
DW: (hangs up)

This is precisely why couples become estranged. I will no longer move his noodle in any way shape or form.

So...you think you can blog?

I've resisted the urge to blog for some time now, but seeing as how I have virtually no impulse control, it was bound to happen. Apparently you get blog consultants now, but you have to register your credit card to speak to them, and I can't remember the rand/dollar exchange rate so I figured I'd just ask a bunch of gay guys I met online and they asked me what a "Loch Ess Monster" was and I told them it's meant to be funny and they didn't get it because they go out and have fun on Saturdays and don't sit at home and compulsively look up weird shit on the internet.

Anyhow, I know the millions of you that follow my site will demand to see proof that the Loch Ess Monster does instead exist, so I've attempted to locate a grainy, out of focus picture as evidence. Google has not let me down and I discovered this thing online. It's either an odd-shaped cheeto or a weird Muppet vibrator of some kind.