2 Percherons Need Our Support

Hi there animal lovers,

Please consider helping out this worthwhile project on behalf of Laura McIlrath

NOT the actual percherons but an idea of how gorgeous they are

Her plea:

We are desperately trying to raise funds for the transport of 2 previously abused Percheron horses that are now in a loving home but the owner can no longer keep them. 1 is a mare and the other an 18 year old bay gelding.

They have not been backed so finding them a home has been difficult but here at the sanctuary we are more than happy to take them and care for them for the rest of their days!

the transport is R5700 for both of the horses and we are trying to raise money to help with this cost.

All donors will be acknowledged on my website and all donations however big or small will be greatly greatly appreciated not only by us but by the 2 Percheron’s also . All donors will be added as sponsors of the horses and receive regular updates of their progress and if possible can come and visit them at the sanctuary any time they like free of charge

If you can help in some way email Laura as soon as you can ikkos_equine_sanctuary@live.co.za

If you want to see what Laura does take a look at her collection of animal rescues and pets here:
http://ikkos-equine-sanctuary.weebly.com/

Thanks so much

Forget District 9 – Hok 11 is the place to be

CLICK ON PHOTOS TO ENLARGE

Well , this past Saturday was rather unusual to say the least .

Myself and 2 girlfriends were invited to a birthday party out past the boerewors curtain in Durbanville.We were up for the challenge of shimmying our Southern Suburb’s asses out into uncharted territory.

We set off in my trusty Palio imagining would reach our destination in approximately 40 minutes -we were very sadly mistaken .My passenger Claudia, armed with her freshly printed set of directions ,was my navigator for the journey. We successfully maneuvered our way through Durbanville and took a sharp but excitable turn into Wellington Road- these directions were faboosh! Our next landmark was the Model Airplane field which we would come across after 5 sets of robots . We were doing well . The next stop on our “map” was , according to Claudia’s writing, Coco-Bick. We knew we had about 3km of driving until we hit the mysterious Coco-bick signpost.

By now  (half an hour in ) it had become one of those frosty evenings in the Cape , slightly misty and very dark as we travelled along this freeway with angry motorists hurtling past. Finally Claire saw a sign approaching- alas it was not Coco-bick but in fact Corobrick! Thanks Clauds LOL. We all agreed this was most likely the spot we had to take a right down a dirt path.  Down the dusty path my little car trundled – it was a wee bit suspicious seeing as there were no signs indicating we were on our way to a restaurant. Anyhow we had followed the directions to the tee so figured we had to be on the right track.

The further along we drove the darker it got and the more fareeeked out us 3 girls became . I think it’s a pretty safe bet all of us were beginning to wonder if we were about to meet a grisly end with some deranged serial killer the further away we got from the main road. Meep…

As we were moving at a rather bumpy pace Clauds requested me to open the windows to reduce her car sickness in the back seat after which we all screamed as a massive stench of chicken shit wafted into my freshly vacuumed car. Whilst shrieking we realised we were now passing a chicken factory -where in God’s name are we ! As a recent PETA convert I was horrified .

Finally we saw some lights and thought HURRAH we have have arrived unfortunately as we moved closer we saw no signs of  a restaurant and realised we were probably trespassing on someone’s farm. EEK!

As we slowly crept past hoping no-one would hear us we spotted some lights coming from a building so we decided to be brave and stick around and ask for directions . I pulled my palio up towards a field to park and as my lights illuminated the area in front a bloody huge hog ran past . Fark – this could turn into a scene from “Deliverance”  gulp…

I decided to look at the funny side and demand shots of me were taken in front of the pig pen whilst avoiding pig shit in my new booties. After my impromptu photo shoot we then proceeded to enter this establishment which turned out to be a bush bar . A BUSH BAR in Cape Town – can you believe it ?

3 dolled up girlies trotted into a very low key police bar and began the embarrassing ordeal of explaning how they had ended up in this charming neck of the woods. We soon learnt we had in fact found the restuarant’s old location ( tis true ) and we were in fact at HOK 11. Thankfully though the locals were friendly and treated us to free drinks to make our trip worthwhile.

I had said when I got back from my travels I wanted to do more roadtrips in my own country – this wasn’t quite what I had in mind.However if we ever need a place to hire for a Texas Chain Saw themed party  HOK 11 is the first place I’ll call.

PS Claire just alerted me to this which she found on GOOGLE about HOK 11 – this place is famous

http://www.henry.co.za/articles.asp?ART_ID=300&Step=3

Today’s WTF?

Gumtree Cape Town > Community > pets Safety Tip:
Gumtree doesn’t offer any sort of buyer protection / payment programs.
Read safety tips

Invisible Sugar Fish

Ad ID: 128817991

Location: Cape Town Southern Suburbs Kenilworth
Date Listed: 19/05/2009

You will receive 10 Invisible Sugar Fish in a sealed glass jar. They only require feeding once a month of a tea spoon of sugar. Life expectancy of 10 years.

So basically in 10 years you have a heavily dilute mixture of SUGAR WATER !! WTF indeed

BEHOLD PONY MADNESS

Terminally Confused

Last week my friend finally arrived for her long awaited girl’s weekend in Barcelona (long awaited by moi even more so – a quiet life by the ocean can get tedious when you on your eis). Lee-Anne was here to inject some fun and excitement into my mellow existence. And by god did she ever!

Wednesday evening I head off by train to collect Lee who has arrived 30minutes early. As if this trip was getting a blessing from above I too am also early – what a great start to what’s sure to be a wicked weekend ( not too wicked mind you -she has a spouse  )
My friend calls to alert me that she is waiting at terminal A and not at Terminal C as I had mistakenly assured her she would be landing. NO ONE MOVE! We agree to meet outside a sweet shop in terminal A .Little do I know those sweet shops are littered throughout Barcelona International. First of a series of cellular calls begin .Lee-Anne “Where you?” I reply “I’m here – outside the sweet shop”. Lee “I am outside the sweet shop” A collective UHOH! I start panicking “oh my god she’s at the wrong airport”. Sweat starts to drip– shitballs it’s 9:15pm. Fuck fuck fuckitty fuck. I will have to head all the way back through Barcelona to the other side of the city to get to Girona Airport. The she calls again to inform me she is in Terminal A definitely BCN Airport. I stand in Terminal A and cannot for the life of me see a bloody sweet shop. Oh god! I am sure she’s at Girona and someone gave her faulty information. So I do a redundant walk all the way to Terminal B to feel as if I am accomplishing something…

Eventually I say “ok listen I am walking towards Terminal A again you leave Terminal A we are bound to see each other if you are in fact at the correct airport?” Lee-Anne shrieks “of course I am at right airport”. Lo and behold the two of us imbeciles talking on the phone, looking I imagine like special needs candidates, finally spot each other. Cue the romantic run through the airport music– must have looked like a lesbian romance movie come to life. Dumb and dumber- Out the closet and lost in an airport.

Turns out Terminal A was in fact much bigger than I remembered and Lee Anne had been there all along I had just forgotten to walk behind the elevators where indeed A extended into a world of sweet shops and the actual arrivals section. Whoops, my bad.

Train Rides & Toilets

Things have been happening on this side of the world-I have left the obscenely expensive room  in Barcelona for the quieter town of Masnou situated along the Mediterranean coast – horses in close proximity Yeehaaaa!  Of course in true me fashion, the journey was not without it’s obstacles .

My leaving was preceded by a raucous Saturday night that only ended Sunday 5-30am – a fitting farewell to the city I think you would agree. I managed 4 hours of sleep and then had to get ready for my departure from Barcelona. Suffering from a major case of babalaas and thinking I am only 30minutes away from my new bed  I set off for Masnou.

I have a lot of luggage – backpack on my back ( obviously) , laptop hoisted over my chest, handbag on arm and right hand pulling a case of about 23kgs. Not  to worry – I only have a short walk to the train station and then upon arrival in Masnou my new boss will be fetching me in her car- what’s ten minutes of lugging this stuff about hey?

After stumbling down the stairs  with my carry case bouncing down each step like an epileptic drill bit  I flung myself onto the train and settled in for the ride to my new home.  10 minutes in I realised I hadn’t yet seen the sea – I was moving to the coast after all ? I didn’t want to panic and thought maybe because I was tired the trip was taking longer in my mind . At about 30minutes in I accepted that I had clearly boarded the wrong train there were mountains all around me. Dammit!

Next stop I heaved my increasingly heavy  luggage onto the platform and decided I would sit around this station and await the next train returning from whence I came. I shuffled across a dodgy looking pathway over the train tracks praying I don’t get electrocuted. So here I am looking like a right knob sitting on the side of the railway tracks with all my worldly possessions dangling off  various limbs.

“promixa tren  a Barthelona blah blah Numero 1 “   My ears tweak -next train it is.  Every one runs across to the platform on the other side which is where the train dropped me off to begin with. Hell I ain’t getting on the wrong train again and travelling further into the interior. In a logical world I would assume that the opposite platform(numero 2) to the one that deposited me onto this railway abyss , would be the very one that would take me back to the city. That would have been too simple. I am standing on platform 2 thinking that the train will come opposite to the track that  I arrived on – I mean how can the one track have trains travelling in both directions?

I  go inside the station and see if I can figure out what time the next train heading back to Barna will arrive. I ask when the next train is and she points outside – there it is on the other side of the tracks on bloody platform 1 . With about 30kgs of luggage it’s safe to say I didn’t make that train.

Tick tock tick tock – I sat in this random station for forty minutes. My only entertainment being the endless stream of teenagers spitting on the tracks, sashaying past in pussy pelmets and doing bike tricks uncomfortably close to me on the steps whilst I was slowly passing out.

Another 40minutes pass. Kill me now. Eventually I hear “proxima tren a Barthelona blah blah blah numero 2″. OK I am on platform 2 I am not moving.Unfortunately just as the train arrives I start to feel the 2 litres of cranberry juice and water I drank before leaving Barcelona make their presence felt.

I hoist myself onto the train  surrounded by wife-beater clad teenage boys doing wheelies on their BMX’s up and down the train. For some reason these youths feel the need to walk up and down the train directly past where I am sitting forcing me to adjust my seating position every 2 minutes – all the while trying desperately not to pee my pants. You know that excruciating point where you think if you don’t pee your kidney will burst through you stomach – this was worse. I start debating to myself- it’s either pee on myself in a foreign country and explain I am from another culture and hope this flies or jump off at the next stop.

Next stop it  is – there must be a toilet somewhere , a cafe , a shop , a house anything! So I waddle, knees clamped together ,in search of ablutions in this very industrial looking pit stop.I see the familiar  Servioco sign ( toilets) and make my way only to discover urinals upon urinals- the girl’s toilet is shut F%&^ !

There must be a key . I scamper to the station house to find ….no one working  aaargh Dam these Spaniards and their effing siestas. I then notice a rundown yard where there seems to be a drinks party going on so I approach the locals who happen to be  surrounded by chickens. They seem to recognize the anguish all across my face and direct me back to the men’s toilet where they assure me there is a separate toilet inside. I venture into urinal central and hurrah there is a room with a normal toilet – fantastic! I get straight onto the business of ending my pain and suffering  only to discover with horror someone else had been here before . They had not bothered to use the toilet- it wasn’t pretty that’s as much as I will say.

PS as for getting to Masnou despite turning what was a 30minute trip into a 3 hour lost-a-thon , all’s well that ends well.

Just Because …

Her name is Shamrock - I think you can tell why

Whiskey, Nessie and Buddhists

Hurrah!  At long last I get to visit my brother “the monk” AKA Choden at his buddhist sanctuary in Scotland- http://www.holyisland.org/

This week as I make  preparations  to bid adios to Barcelona and move up the coast , I thought what better time to plan a little excursion to another destination I have always longed to visit.  So I booked myself a RyanAir flight to the land of the Loch Ness Monster- och ay!

After years of hearing about my brother’s adopted land I will finally make my way to his little buddhist warren amongst the Hebridean Islands. After flying into Glasgow I will be taking a ferry from the mainland at Ardrossan and then heading to the famous Isle of Arran (whiskey time!) whereupon I board a skip which will deliver me to the eponymous Holy Island. How very twee….

My brother , Sean McGovern, has been involved with the development of  Holy Island since it was bought in 1992 by the Rokpa Trust in association with Kagyu Samye Ling Monestary (which incidentally is  the largest Tibetan Monastery outside of Tibet as well as Europe’s oldest) .

The intention behind this center is that it acts as a spiritual retreat open to all faiths as a place where people can find a peaceful refuge in this hectic modern world and encourage inter-faith relations.

Aside from the spiritual benefits of this island I am most looking forward to chasing some wild ponies and hopefully avoiding any hind legs assaults as I try make friends . Apparently there are also herds of sheep and goats that wander about the island – so I am super excited at the prospect of frolicking in the wilderness .

I will be sure to post more news of my Highland Fling as it happens. Stay tuned.

SPCA HELPS WITH TABLE MOUNTAIN FIRES

Table Mountain fire:

SPCA rescues injured wildlife  COGH SPCA Chief Inspector Andries Venter carries the severly burnt grysbokkie to safety.

Andries Venter with injured bokkie

The greysbokkie when we found her.

Wildlife is the main casualty of the fires on Table Mountain – and the SPCA has had its hands full with urgent rescue and relief missions.Although numerous wild animals have been rescued, more casualties are expected while the fire still burns – and in its aftermath – and SPCA Inspectors remain on full alert. To date, no domestic animals appear to have been affected, but the SPCA urges pet owners to keep a close eye on their dogs and cats. One of the heartbreaking casualties of the fire was a grysbok, whose plight was brought to the attention of SPCA Chief Inspector Andries Venter by the City of Cape Town’s Disaster Management team. The grysbok was found in a quarry near Vredehoek, with severe burn wounds on its legs and face. It was unable to move because of its injuries. The animal was rushed to Dr George Coury at Citi Vet in Gardens, where it was put on a drip and given emergency treatment for its pain and injuries. Unfortunately it suffered internal injuries from smoke inhalation and passed away.

To report injured animals – or for more information about the SPCA’s rescue efforts – please call 021 700 4158/9 or contact the SPCA after hours emergency number: 083 326 1604.

THIS WAS COPIED FROM SPCA WEBSITE – LINK TO SPCA ON RIGHT HAND SIDE OF MY BLOG PLEASE SUPPORT

Spring Has Sprung & in Surprising Places I tell Ya!

Get a Room People!

Right now I’m in Spain just as the weather is beginning to herald the start of Spring. I am incredibly lucky to be here and witness the Mediterranean people start to break free from the shackles of winter ( which I do think gets them down ) and start displaying their Latin temperaments. And boy display them they do! In the most public of places. Now I am no prude and come from a warm, open country where PDA is not frowned upon too much.But there’s PDA and then there’s the George Micheal kind of PDA that could land you in the dock. That being said my eyes have been standing out on stalks over the last couple of weeks as people are definitely feeling the birds and the bees in the air.

Every which way I turn there are couples going at it. Against walls outside shops, clutching each other desperately on elevators , partaking in tonsil hockey on the metro – you get the picture . At first its cute and you feel all caught up in Spanish pasione, then you kinda of stop noticing it and then you get trapped on a metro at 3 am with a couple dry-humping on the seat next to you …good god people we are not animals!

I honestly  don’t mind all this love and pashing that much. Apart from  dry-hump couple where after I felt the need to douse myself in a vat of disinfectant. Love is in the air and the metros apparently  xoxo

JAMIE LYNN IS MINGING AKA work topics for the day :)

jon: wow – so holly split from hef

Tracy: yip scaaandaaaaaal

lol

jon: and jamie lynn is having another sprog

Tracy: noooooooo

sis

jon: all those spears’ should be sterilized

Tracy: egads

jon: perez

1st story

Tracy: thats repulsive

Sent at 3:46 PM on Wednesday

jon: mingen

Tracy: just read it how ridiculous

jon: i was quite entranced

Sent at 3:49 PM on Wednesday

jon: i had to tear myself away from the goolah

hahah

Sent at 3:50 PM on Wednesday

jon: yes, it is feral

clearly no freaking class those people

Tracy: eeeew you see the gay cannibal

horros

jon: total trailer park

yes – that was also appalling

Tracy: jeepers creepers

maybe he and jamie should start dating

Sent at 3:51 PM on Wednesday

jon: totally – she can make ‘em as quick as he can eat ‘em

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeew

Tray: hahahahahahha

or he can slowly devour the entire spears clan

save humanity

from spears sperminating the world

jon: totally

thank god they don’t have boys….

them oats would spread a lot quicker

at least with the girls there’s a nine month waiting period before the next spawn

MINGEN

Office Amy Lee discussion

In response to my Amy Lee posted item:

Jono: Wow, there are so many Goth girls on this hate amy lee site.

Rosie: Amy Lee is not Goth, she is the ‘self pitying alternative woman’.

Jono: So if I screamed “I’m going under!” you would die?

Rosie: Yes I would. And Goth girls don’t “go under”. They wear really high shoes so they don’t end up “going under”. *Cackles*

Tara: Is that really why they wear those high shoes?

Drunken Ponies

File this under: big beautiful ponies gone wild!

NO NO NO , rehab !!

Meet 12-year-old Fat Boy from England. Early Tuesday morning, Fat Boy escaped from his stable and broke into a nearby garden where he partied like a Wino by feasting on fermented apples. The rotting apples had begun to ferment and produce alcohol. Can I get the recipe?

Fat Boy must have boozed way too much, because as he made his way across the garden, he accidentally stumbled into the pool. Okay, that’s not really a pool. It’s more like a swamp ditch.

He was discovered a while later by Sarah Penhaligon who heard his drunk splashes from her bedroom. Sarah went to the pool to see if she could help him. He was splashing around, trying to get out. Sarah tried to calm him by giving him more booze apples. Enabler!

Sarah then figured she should call the po po for help. Police officer and firefighters quickly showed up. After two hours of work, they were finally able to pull the party pony out of the cesspool. Fat Boy was returned to his owner. He’s currently drying out at Promises rehab facility in Malibu, CA.

Once Fat Boy breaks out of rehab, I need to party with him. We’ll get some booze apples, a couple of hookers, a few grams of sugar cubes and just go wild.

Anyone seen my Bikini

Bubbles De Vere’s Message of the Day

Inspired by a colleague’s recent episode with a ghastly ex deluded to think she still cares for him , in the inimitable style of Bubbles De Vere I present her advice of the day:

” I am sooo over you it’s unbelieeevable“

My Love For Gael Is Tested

Ok people who know me are aware of my undying love for Gael Garcia Bernal…..unhealthy a love it may be but its a loyal undying love! However , when I came upon this clip my love was tested , albeit only for a few seconds until I regained my senses and pictured him in Motorcycle diaries, Y tu Mama Tambien etc. All is forgiven Gael I still love you LOL

Yes this video is cheese to the extreme but I’ve always been partial to a bit of Cheddar and when cheddar is this tasty I have to forgive any nausea it may induce

My Rant For The Day

PICK N PAY BOOOOOO!!

An ode to Pick n Pay

I went to the new Claremont on the 29th October for the first time . Parked my car and jogged inside and the very second my feet went from the parking garage floor onto the trolley/walkway into the center I slipped onto the tiled walkway injuring my face and my ribs. The Doctor who examined me say it’s likely I have a fractured rib and may have a fracture in my face thanks to you having slippery tiles in the walk way .Plus I was wearing flat shoes.

Do you really think I, a 27 year old healthy woman with good balance, will be the only person in Claremont’s history to run inside the shopping centre and fall? I think not.

Especially when you tile the inclined walkway that many shoppers and gym users will make use of. Do you not think an elderly person ( and many an elderly women likes to wear heels ) is not going to potentially slip and injure themselves far worse than I have? What do you suggest? Insist no women wear heels whilst shopping? I would suggest putting rubberised tiles down NOT ceramic tiles that could really hurt anyone , children , elderly and me!

Another factor that greatly annoys me is that while I was lying passed out on the walkway for 10 minutes and then crying in pain inside the coffee shop not one manager or employee of Pick n Pay bothered to check on my well-being.

So if Pick n Pay stands by their slogan of “inspired by you” I truly hope you look after your customers far better in future cause I am not inspired by YOU at all.

I am not impressed and really would appreciate Pick n Pay to make their centres places where people are safe from accidents like this. With people rushing in and out of shopping centres I don’t think I’ll be the last person to fall on your tiled walkways.

Little Old Ladies – I love ‘em

Old Biddies Not So Innocent Afterall

Today I met my future-self.

She was about 5.5ft, sporting blue rinsed hair and a little twin set.

Let us call her Shirley.

I first encountered Shirley this morning as I walked slowly (note my previous blog entry J ) into the Checkers in Meadowridge – a bustling hive of elderly shenanigans.

As we both happened to walk into the shop side by side, a middle aged woman (you know the type- slightly chubby, sporting a dodgy box dye and man’s haircut with Capri pants exposing thick ankles- lets call her Fran ) walked into poor old Shirley bashing her in the shoulder. Not an “oops ‘, “I’m sorry “or an “Excuse me “escaped Fran’s thin lips.

Now if there’s anything that sends me into wild, obscenity ridden outbursts in shopping centers all over the southern ‘burbs, it is when people walk into me or run their trolleys over my feet with not even a look in my direction let alone a sorry.

So when I saw poor little Shirley being “assaulted “in this manner I turned to her shaking my head and said: “I hate when people do that “only to have Shirley blurt out in a very modern manner “BITCH! I hate when people do that “. I had met my geriatric counterpart .A soul mate in the aisles of suburban shopping centers if you will.

I replied agreeing with Shirley what a rude sow Fran is only to have Shirley regale me her evil stories of revenge. Some of her ambushes were subtle. She proudly told me when people leave their shopping trolleys in the way of others, when the said trolley pusher isn’t looking she (Shirley) quickly snatches the offending transport and wheels it to the other side of the shop. This little gremlin of a gerry had me in stitches.

Her fait accompli though has to be the revenge she exacts on those Fran’s of the world who brazenly bash into her and don’t apologise. When they are not watching over their trolley Shirley grabs a large packet of Rough Rider prophylactics and hides it under their purchases only to watch with much pleasure when the women see the surprise addition to their groceries

So when next you accidentally knock someone in a shopping center I advise you to be polite and say sorry or else you might not like what you find when the cashier goes through your goods.

Shirley you rock!!

Schlock of the Day

Greetings my not so faithful followers ( I been checking my traffic it’s dismal people!) .

So today I confessed to a colleague that when he arrived for his interview at our offices I could n’t help myself and peeped through the glass window of my boss’s office to spy. I was entranced by what I thought was a rhinestone belt . Had we started recruiting to ex Village People crew?

Well today I told the aforementioned colleague about what I thought he was wearing only to have him assure me that the suspected rhinestones were in fact studs. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing but any how ….

He then proceeded to sing the lyrics to Rhinestone Cowboy by Glen Campbell.

For your viewing pleasure may I present “Like a rhinestone cowboy.”….

Scissor Happy

The other day I brought my bundle of fluffy love Chow Chow X back from the beach.

She spent most of the time getting frightened by horrid little screeching children and at the end of the outing her nerves were shattered

On arriving home I decided a little pamper session is just what Teddy (for she looks like a little teddy bear) needed to recover her senses.

Out came the grooming brushes and I start grooming her thick luscious coat. However on closer inspection I spotted some matted bits behind her neck.

So I whip out the scissors and I start channeling my inner dog groomer.

All going well so far – snipping little knots under her armpits, a little bit on her shoulders and now for those pesky strands on her neck.

Teddy is looking chilled, enjoying the love as I begin cutting through a thick piece of matted fur. As I snip my way through the fuzz all seems great until I see a little trickle of red winding its way down her neck. OMG!!!!! I release the scissors from their cutting position to hear teddy making the tiniest little cry as if to say “Thank God she stopped the torture I knew if I prayed long enough she’d stop “.

NOOooooooooo! (Screamed in best slow motion manner). I had sliced a piece of my precious child’s flesh off her neck. Panic stricken I sat there holding her wound while she trustingly looked up at me probably thinking to herself “ If I smile at her maybe she wont hurt me anymore “.

Sob sob how could I have confused fur with Teddy’s neck? Tears streaming down my face as I contemplate whether this is considered child abuse my mother calls a vet we know. The vet starts laughing as my mother continues to explain that I have passed out after machete-ing my pooch with a pair of scissors. Vet says not to worry if it’s stopped bleeding and is only a flesh wound. A pair of clean scissors would not do too much harm considering dogs usually have to contend with dog fights involving dirty teeth. Vet laughs and says she thinks I need more medical attention by the sounds of things.

So for the next hour as Teddy bounds past me with a smile on her face I randomly burst into tears wondering when Childline is gonna knock on the front door.

Thankfully all is well until a week later when we decide, seeing as the flap of skin on Teddy’s neck is still blowing in the wind, we should get our vet to remove it. Horrified he suggests surgery which sends me into torrents of tears. Shamefully this is the second time I’ve sent a family pet to surgery but I’m not going into details except to say the first time it involved a blind, geriatric pug and a boerbul.

So poor little Teddy is wheeled into surgery which Hurray is a success. She returned none the wiser, happier than ever my guilt slighty assuaged. All’s well that ends well.

Or so I thought….

An unfortunate side effect of painkillers and anesthetic is a touch of the runs in the canine nether regions.

Poor Teddy or should I say poor me. I approached her derriere with some toilet paper and began pulling off some dried dangle-berries which is a weekly event in itself.

Unfortunately as a result of aforementioned painkiller combo the final piece of dried turd was not in fact dry at all. Teddy had exacted her revenge! With a slightly doped-up look on her face I was forced to clean her noxious arse while she lay there smirking at me.

As much as I would like to have given Teddy the last laugh sadly she was forced to wear a pair of tailored undergarments to prevent any accidents in the night.

I know you’d think after injuring my dog I would have at least left Teddy her dignity, alas not on this occasion.

Why So Concerned About My Love Life or Lack there of ? AKA i’m sure I won’t get eaten alive by my alsations like Bridget Jones ….

Hiding from prospective blind dates

What is it with most people wanting to fix up their single friends ? Why does everyone at one time or another try to become a yenta? Do they want to be at the wedding and regale the guests with their match-making genius ? Is it hard to believe a single person may actually be enjoying his/her solitude … Why is it a partner in love is such a huge focus on everyone’s minds?

It’s enough to drive some people mad …in fact I think it already has. Here follows an alarming conversation between myself and a well meaning , if slightly off her rocker , friend and her efforts to get me to go on a blind date. Suffice to say she failed dismally but it makes for amusing reading.

C: ok ta

like i’m being serious

i’m setting you up on a blind date

me: noooo with who

C: he’s totally cute

me: who is he tell me

me: who is heeee

C: ok his name is “Bleep”

me: yes ooh irish nice name

what else

C: and like lololololol i was bored one day at the office and picked him up on…. lololol

GUMTREE

hahaha

me: what

C: okaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyy

me: omg

C: yes

bad bad bad

hahahaha

me: on gumtree

how did youmanage that

C: okay but wait he’s hahahahaha yes ok let’s move on from the gumtree bit

ok

so he’s like 29

he has irish roots

me: no but like how did you meet him on gumtree

C: in fact he has a british passport

me: tell me….

C: ok like can we just move on from there for like ONE second i’ll give you the details later on

me: ohahaha

C: okAY

me: yes so irish roots

C: so he’s like in design

me: are his teeth straight

i know those brits have dodgey gnashers

C: well check him out on my facebook profile

“Name hidden for privacy and dignity”

me: hmmm ok

no back to gumtree

C: ur of irish descent aren’t you?

me: yes “yawn”

yes

C: ta he’s got personality

me: gumtreeeee ( me thinking h god NOT personality!!we all know what that means)

how why

C: so are you looking?

lolololol

hahahahahahahaha

me: no just gimme a mo

i don’t see him anywhere

C: she repeats “Name hidden for privacy and dignity”

me: I am speechless (after just having found PEE WEE HERMAN”S doppleganger)

C: what are you speechless about?

me: ummmm have you seen this guy in real life

C: no

mmm

me: OH my god

C: but y’all can chat??

me: how  very dare you

C: to start off with

me: jeepers

you have nt even seen him in real life good gad woman

who are you bringing to the pot luck thing? Better not be this character….

C: not him don’t worry lolol

me: where did you find this guy ?on gumtree seriously be honest?

C: ok hold on i’m trying to talk to him now

C: ok so don’t judge me

here goes the story

i get bored at work every so often and then one day i thought hey – let’s check out the singles classifieds on gumtree – yes i could’ve chosen a better website but ya

ANYhoo

so i browsed through the ads and his ad was there

lol

just totally like – …cool

it was entitled “Serendipitous Serenade”

thought it was an interesting title and replied some smart comment and then we started chatting

first over email and then via google chat and we were supposed to meet but i didn’t want to

not for any other reason other than the fact that he’s a stranger and i just wanted to speak to someone new during the day u know

didnt’ really actually wanna meet

anyhoo – so anyway long story short – he’s funny and cool and irish

he loves animals and he thinks a fringe on a girl is cute

lol

ur the perfect candidate

TA

lol DON’T JUDGE ME

hahahahaha

oh gad I LOST A FRIEND COZ OF GUMTREE CLASSIFIEDS HAHAHAHAHAHA

shit ta… i really hope our friendship is based on more than this

me: hahahahah

omg

you better not have sent my pic

C: (nervous laughter) lol

me: what !

C: ok don’t get angry – he just saw ur facebook profile pic

that’s it

promise

me: oh my god

C: ur angry

i can tell

me: no man just freaked

C: WHY

like i’m friggin setting u up to go speed dating with me too – like you EVEN have a choice

it’s harmless fun

unless you have a BIG problem with it of course

naturally.

me: what speed dating

OMG have y signed me up on datng sites

me: C ( me shouting her name)

dont hide from me

C: ur not on dating sites!!!

lololololololol

i’m just getting a group of us to go speed dating

we’re not on a site

so don’t worry

okay i’ll be back in a bit okay

DON’T GO

lol don’t be mad at me PLEASE

hahaha

or hate me

or judge

YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE MY FRIEND!!:)

C is offline and can’t currently receive messages because this chat is off the record.

Laundry Horrors

My poor friend – never a day goes by when she doesn’t have some bizarre tale to tell regarding her new room mate .

After sharing her cottage with a girl and enduring the dramas and tribulations that naturally occur whilst living with another woman , she decided that the time had come to live with a guy.

A guy , she naively imagined, would bring about a sense of balance to her abode. No more PMS to contend with (apart from her own) or tense, bitchy moments when food went missing or bathrooms left messy. Aaaaah yes a male room-mate would be so great . A nice, laid back guy who doesn’t care if the dishes aren’t always cleaned right after being used or whether you smoke indoors. Yes life with a guy would be great!

However , as Murphy’s Law would have it, my friend was  not to end up with Cape Town’s most laid back roomie ( that would have been too easy) but Cape Town’s most peculiar.

Her new room-mate tends to walk into her room while she is relaxing and just stand there – mute. On other occasions when her friends come by to visit and greet this creature he doesn’t say anything in reply just gives them a dodgy ” why you looking at my woman ” kinda look. This odd look, although amusing to her friends , strikes fear into her heart so much so that she is now tempted to lock her bedroom door at night.

This following incident has , at the very least , encouraged my friend to hide away her underthingies in future after peculiar roomie had started getting a bit to familiar with them . After a particularly tiring day she arrived home to find that her roomie of only a week or so had folded her panties one by one and left them on her bed. Now FYI to anyone who’s not a girl —we don’t like our underwear being touched uninvited !!

Girl: I finally had the chat about my washing on Monday – that was a bit terrifying

co-worker: rofl
yes – he’s such a nerd he doesn’t understand that sniffing pantys after they’ve been laundered defeats the point
HAHAHAHAHAH
i am so funny

Girl: you speak from experience?
hahahahaha
joking

i’m bad at reading body language but his was like a nuclear explosion it was so clear – “homicidal anger at being told not to take down my clothes”

Co-worker:  LOL
yeah – although my panty sniffing days came to an end upon discovering a skid mark

LOL kidding

SteekNet – altyd beter met ‘n bietjie botter

El camino a España comienza AKA the journey to Spain begins

The Dangling object between his legs is a delicacy!!

So , all my faithful (few) followers, the time has at last come. This Monday I depart at long  last on my mini adventure for 2009 . Ariiiba! I have been scheming, plotting, stressing, laughing and looking forward to my first overseas trip for the last year and at last it begins.

I hope that this journey to the land of paella, bull fights and flamenco will inspire me to live a life full of excitement, love, gratitude and adventure. This past year ( I refer to 2008 ) had been one where I have at long last put my head down and focused on work , family and finding a side of me that sets my mind on something and achieves it . I’ve always struggled with finishing anything I’ve started but this year I grew up and started treating myself with more care and respect and hopefully that helped me treat others with the same consideration. However, in doing so, I also tended to focus too much on the responsible side and I think I forgot how to have fun.

I turned into a bit of a hermit. Worried now that as I have at last put away the irresponsible side of me, if  I now dared to do something a bit fun or crazy it might unleash that selfish person who does what she wants, when she wants to ( i.e. being involved with men I know are no good , driving in altered states and generally just getting caught up in my own wants and dramarama’s). I trust that 2008 has put paid to that reckless side of me that almost met a nasty end in December 2007. 2008 was the year I  finally grew up. Hooray!!

This year is allegedly the start of my Saturn Return and although I don’t buy into all that ‘new agey’ hullabaloo, I kind of  like the premise.

Saturn Return:

Astrologers call the period between ages twenty-eight and thirty “Saturn Return.” That’s because it’s the first time the planet Saturn completes its cycle through your birth chart and returns to the spot it occupied when you were born. Internationally respected astrologer Rob Hand calls Saturn Return “one of the most important times in your life. . . a time of endings and new beginnings.”

For most of us, ending a phase of life that is familiar and embarking on one that is new and untried is unsettling, even painful. Few people describe Saturn Return as a pleasant period. While undergoing your Saturn Return you may find yourself turning inward and reflecting on your individual destiny. You examine your true needs and desires and the role you want to play on the world’s stage. You may feel lonely and alienated from those around you, while family and friends think you are shutting them out. But this is a necessary period of consolidation, when you must retreat from the distractions of the outer world and focus on yourself at your most fundamental level. The Saturn Return is every individual’s search for the Holy Grail.

As I turn 28 the day after I arrive in Espanja I like the idea that I am entering a new phase in my life. I can definitely relate to the Saturn Return. Looking back on the past year (27 was after all the age I entered my 28th year on the planet) I said goodbye to bad habits, fair -weather friends, experienced a huge shift in my personal life and began focusing on what would really make me a whole, happy and useful human being whilst I take up space on this planet.

So enough of that deep, soul searching malarkey —— on to the fun things I hope to experience and report back to you whilst I wander about the city of Barthelonaaaa!!!  Bring on the Bull’s Testicles

En Route to Barna via Schippol

Hey there my friends So it’s been almost 2 weeks since I arrived in Barcelona,Spain and I am happy to report all is well. The first stage of my journey was flying from CT to Schippol,Holland. All aboard…toot toot!

Cape Town International: I shared a very composed and all together calm Bon Voyage with my Mom -  I was very proud how well mum kept it together no “snot and trane” in sight . I was also eerily calm and just kind of wandered off into the unknown of International Departures like something out of the Twilight Zone. I think the shock that fraidy-cat me  was actually going through with this adventure had me slighty concussed.

So I wandered up into the waiting area dazzled by duty free thinking to myself  “Oh my Fareeking hell what in the name of all that is holy am I thinking going to Spain by myself AAARGH” ( cue Celine Dion’s “All ByyyyyyMySeeeelllllffffff”).  In a panicky moment I turned to my left and asked “is this the terminal to Holland?”  only to have a very bubbly girl say “God I bloody hope so ” .  Tessa a bubbly South African living in Scotland began giving  me some tips and re-bolstered my enthusiasm about the journey to come. Namely ogling hot Spanish men. Ok breathe Tara this will all be ok …think of all the other Tessas and amazing people you will meet on your trip .  This is only the first hour and look how well it’s going.

Sitting in my first ever international window seat I eagerly await take off , always the best part of flying I think. Ridiculously friendly ( somewhat creepy) KLM staff strap us in  and right on time we have lift off. Good to go …

2 hours in dinner is served ( a dodgy tomato soup and waldorf salad – divine combo ) but on the plus side Tessa had given me sneaky insider tips that chocolates are stored at the back of plane ready to be consumed at anytime during the flight. I start settling in having watched some of the flight tracking over Namibia and decide in-flight movie time!

Yes and there it is “Vicky , Cristina Barcelona ” – as if to applaud my choice in destination – in all its 10 inch glory. So I’m nibbling my complimentary oat cookie  and watching the inane dialogue between old Scarjo and Javier Bardem when I swear I hear screaming . Is that screaming coming from the movie? Is it a child in the back of the plane? Is it my inner wuss freaking out? No it’s none of the above. I pull out my earphones to hear a most awful shouting sound. What is going on ?

The man ( who incidentally bares a striking resemblance to Dr Blofeld from the bond movies)  sitting in the row right in front of me is having some sort of episode. He’s shouting at the KLM staff . He won’t shut up . Screaming in Gallic tongues at the top of his lungs while most of the plane is sleeping. What a frigging nutcase! The poor air-hostess then starts trying to keep him quiet saying he’s scaring the other passengers. Once the geriatric frog is tamed  I settle back into my introduction to Barcelona courtesy of  Mr Woody Allen. Lo and behold not an hour later I suddenly smell the foulest odours wafting from the chair in front of me . You have got to be kidding me! Not only do I get to sit behind the crazy man I now get to experience his body’s reaction to the aforementioned tomato soup .  Fantastic . This is international travel . Smothering my face with a scarf at 3am so I can minimise the gaseous  exchanges eminating from Pepe le Pew.

I don’t like flying anymore

Seriously though flying is not as much fun as I had hoped. I don’t know what I was expecting. I mean I had flown beforehand nationally -it’s always been dull. Did I really think 14 hours could be any better especially in economy for pete’s sakes ? Was I secretly thinking there would be a cabaret show to entertain me through the dark , cold hours ? My word- the tiny seats, that food , those smells. Flying is soooo overrated . However if you have to travel economy class ( which lets face- it most of us do) you couldn’t do any  better than KLM. Between their cheesy grinned staff ( who I suspect are all  suffering from oxygen depletion ) and the chocolates and sweeties at the back of the cabin it was great to finally experience long distance air travel. If anything the knowledge that I have to board another plane will perhaps give me the strength to stick it out in Spain for a bit longer

I landed – so now what?

Ok. So from the last post you may have gathered I arrived in one piece to the land of flamenco, bull fights and paella. Only one problem – almost as soon as I landed I discovered this ain’t that land people !!

Barcelona, the capital of Catalonia, is by no means the Spain we or should rather say I had dreamed about of when drooling over Spanish heart throbs or picturing a steaming pan of prawn laden paella. No indeedy this is Northern Spain.  Cataluyna to be precise . Not to say that bullfights and paella are not Spanish – they are very much so -  but Southern Spanish. The North is the more conservative , colder more politically aware sibling next to the warmer , more carefree Southern Spain ( or so I am told).  Southern Spain is flamenco , bullfights and paella. Not to discount Barcelona’s party heart it is legendary and for good reason. But be warned, if you think you are going to find the heart of Spain in Cataluyna think again, this is not the Spain you imagine. This is Catalan country.

What is Catalan you may ask ? GOOGLE it for Pete’s sakes. I haven’t got time for an in depth history lesson. More important things to write about dammit!

I will touch on Catalan nuances that I come across in coming posts – I’ll say one thing though : Spain has el Toro. Cataluyna has  el Burro . Figure it out people….

So I landed and after making my way to baggage claims discovered I had no luggage to claim.  I may have made it to Barcelona in 1 piece but my luggage was still in Holland . So there I stood begging the security guard at the gate to baggage claims to let me back in after I ‘d taken a wrong turn in my panic, not knowing whether to cry or laugh. I had no luggage, no idea where my future roommate was to pick me up – I was hopeless at this travelling thing. So I just kind of shlumped to the ground with my back pack and decided it was time to pray and maybe the security will take pity when he sees me crumpled on the floor in a heap. He did no such thing but luckily a face that was sort of familiar to me via email approached – hooray it was the roommate . He had found me .

So very organised roommate (who I am loving at this moment) has organised the luggage fiasco , bought me a beer and sent me to baggage claims slightly drunk to collect my receipt for baggage due to arrive at 7pm that night . Gosh I am much better at this travelling lark slightly tipsy. The only tricky encounter was when I had to pass security gaurds pretending I wasn’t a flight risk and try remove my boots as I had to pass through a metal detector. At this point after 14 hours of travel , now intoxicated and ridiculously red faced a security gaurd tries to get my number – whooo hoooo score ! My first Spanish pick up – a dodgy security gaurd. Is this first introduction to Spanish men a sign of things to come?  I hope not . Any hoo luggage sorted and now off to the new flat to pass out. Will awake in the morrow to first day in Spain on my  28th birthday. Arribaaaa!!

Lets go on a wander shall we?

Day 3 in bartheeeelonaaaa- what shall I do today ? Hmmm I have no idea how far it is to walk to the beach . Lets  see shall I?

Armed with a metro T10 ticket to ride the underground do I take the easy route – H to the L no!!  I shall walk. I mean come on..how big can this city reaaaallly be?

I ‘ll tell you how long – it took me 3 effing hours to get to the beach – why did I not take a map for “bleep’s” sakes. I wandered and wandered through what I suspect are the ugliest neighbourhoods in Barna ( that’s short for Barcelona for those of us who reside here ). I stumbled past dodgy Chinese shops, schwarma cafes and people walking their dogs – always the people with their dogs.

Eventually I came across a very pretty plaza and thought OK I have made it through the ghetto to the touristy bit at last ! Wandering past this section (which I later discovered was  barrio Clot) I started to realise that I was doing it – exploring a country I haven’t much knowledge of  all by my lonesome – my cajones are slowly developing .

I found a beautiful little street and saw the first building that really seemed like Spain to me – right opposite the previously mentioned chinese shop. Nothing is ever as you expect it to be I guess LOL. Walking down this part of town I came to a little courtyard where I smiled at an old man and he smiled back. The first Spanish person in 2 days to return the gesture. I felt so happy I could have burst into song. For shizzle I kid you not. This sweet old gent then called to me and I asked him where I was . He spoke to me in Spanish and broken English and there I was …right in the middle of my first real “conversation” with a local. I could have died right then and there. Ok so admittedly I also realised with horror how heinous my Spanish is in real life  but to try and talk to this sweet old man made any embarrassment fade into the background. His name was Albert and the words that I will always remember and that I keep telling myself make this trip worthwhile were these   “I will keep you here , you  Tara” and he pointed to his heart . That moment has already made this whole adventure worthwhile. To you Albert I will keep you in mine forever.

PS I made it to the beach – it’s a sand pit  meh

Spanish Export Quality – we shall see

Now being a single lady (I think I hear Beyonce in the background) all my friends are only interested in one thing regarding my travels to Spain “what are the men like?” Are they dark, brooding and oozing Latino sex appeal? Well in a word – no .But I’m keeping the faith people. Maybe it‘s because its winter and they‘ve lost their sun kissed glow and the Spanish really hate winter.

I don’t know the reason but I swear the hottest men I’ve seen are dapper senior citizens. It’s tragic really I sit on the metro and rather than check out the young men (who are inevitably pierced in some orifice, skate-boarders or just plain hideous) I imagine how good looking some of these well kept gentlemen must have been in a bygone era. Time to get out and check out the night life I think once I start eyeing octogenarians.

On landing in Spain I mentioned in a previous post about being hit on by a security guard- dismal startJ. Then I was sitting in the Metro one evening waiting for the train home and I asked a guy what time it was. He proceeded to keep repeating “we go for coffee, we go for coffee?” This was no Mediterranean dream boat … he looked homeless and I think he had pink eye. Score!!

So after that my most exciting moment came when I was in the toiletry aisle at “Mercadona”of all places. There I was checking out the deodorant shelves , calculating the rate of exchange for a El Dove (extortion I tell you ) when I lost my footing , stumbled as I am known to do in shops and came face to face with Antonio ! Antonio Banderas Oh my God … but wait reality-check Tara “You are in a Mercadona (equivalent to Checkers in SA) I don’t think Mr Banderas shops in Mercadonas.” Double take in that 5 second conversation in my head…it’s a cardboard cut out of Antonio pimping his new fragrance .Tough times when you get a thrill from a card board cut out. Definitely time to hit a disco ….

My Other Husband to be ( sorry Gael)

It’s nothing personal Gael I assure you – you are my number 1 but right now you busy in Madrid with your newborn  and his mother *bitter jealous cough*

It’s just temporary while you’re changing nappies and dealing with your girlfriend complaining about stretch marks. I just need a bit of a distraction – you understand?

When you have realised I am your one true love then I’ll kick Henry to the kerb but for now he shall do nicely – very nicely indeed…

And an animal lover - what more could one ask for ?