East is East...

People have lots to say about THE EAST (being the east of JHB). As View united are born and bred in the east, we find ourselves defending the east on many occasions. Now the members of View united (and others obviously) have much to say about Boksburg, the Far East really. (Before I continue I have a confession to make. I grew up in the Burg – hence the mocking from View united and the lucky few who are privy to this information).

Now I moved out of the Burg at the tender age of 10, so I have in fact spent most of my life in the View, most people do not care though. I lived in Sunward Park, went to the all-girls Catholic school and contended with the nuns there for many years. Our neighbors were a special lot. They did not have missing teeth or combs in their socks but they came out with guns when we played tok-tokkie and enjoyed Eugene Tereblanch’s manifesto on more the than one occasion. Living in fairly predominant AWB territory provided much interesting happenings, but that is for another post.

Now the reason I have given this little backdrop is because when I moved to Bedfordview, I came across some very interesting neighbors and so the next time people mock the Burg or in fact the East, just remember this post and that no area is free of smut.

Kelly road could not really be called a road. It looked like someone had stood at the top of a hill and poured tar down to create a “road’. On the left side of the road was a large unkept piece of land that become a quasi-forest. This forest invited many visitors, like cat-sized rats. (This is not an exaggeration. If you think you have seen cat-sized rats, you haven’t ok.). This piece of land was owned by an old couple who lived in a derelict house opposite ours. There was another neighbor who we never saw or heard from. The house next to Silent Bob was occupied by a man whose wife had left him and flown off to Europe. He spent most of his life looking for her because at the time of her disappearance she didn’t know who she was. (These aren’t even the interesting neighbors). In the middle of all this was our house. An oasis. It was a huge mod-style home with a large driveway, 2 granny flats, a single story house with 5 bedrooms, a huge front garden and divine patio. There was nothing small or derelict about our house; it looked like it belonged there like an SLK outside a tin shack. It was past our house that things got very interesting.

The house next door to ours was abandoned, expect for about 20 squatters who lived there. On the left hand side, next to the elderly couple, was a house that was well hidden. This house was the local shebeen, and was exceptionally busy but not as busy as the house a little further up the road. This house was visited by the wealthy men of the View on regular occasions. Yes, the Whore House on the Hill attracted those men who behaved as though they defined the word class. The ladies were often outside sunning themselves by the pool, wearing their lingerie and sheer gowns so people driving up to the house could get a good look at the merchandise.

Yes this was Kelly road, in the middle of Bedforview, in the East, where there is a fair influence of the north and people enjoy a good venture to because essentially it’s not really the East…

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The difference between cats and dogs.

Why I like being a woman.

1. We have an excuse for driving badly.
2. We can talk our way out of almost any form of trouble.
3. We get to wear stilettos.
4. We don’t have to take our shirts off to have our chests admired.
5. When we wakeup we can still improve what we see in the mirror with makeup and not just hair gel.
6. We don’t go bald.
7. We can shave under our arms without being ridiculed.
8. We don’t show that we are attracted to someone just by standing sideways.
9. Women’s beauty has launched a thousand ships, what has men’s looks done?
10. We are the first off sinking ships.
11. We can wear skirts in extremely hot clubs.
12. We get jewelry as a present.
13. We get a diamond ring when we are to get married.
14. We can kiss our friends and it is seen as a turn.
15. Our mornings are glorious for different reasons.
16. We can get away with acting dumb.
17. We can wear lots and lots of pink, not just have one shirt that some will still mock us for wearing.
18. Our formal wear varies hugely.
19. We can get away with being bad at pool.
20. We pull off long hair better.
21. We don’t sweat, we glow.
22. If our arms are skinny and underdeveloped it is not the end of the world.
23. Our underwear is pretty.
24. So are our sacred areas.
25. We can put all our shit in handbags.
26. Entrance fee is cheaper.
27. It is easier to get free drinks.
28. The world doesn’t end when we are sick.
29. We don't have to take off our pants to show we are cold. And the indication is quite sexy.
    
    To mention a few.
    

Why I don't like being a woman...

1. Handbags
2. Standing while peeing can be extremely advantageous.
3. There are always queues at bathrooms.
4. Man gave us a rib and we pay them back in monthly installments.
   
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Breakfast with the Girls.....

Tit decided last week that us girls had not seen each other in too long and she decided to organise a breakfast at her place for a couple of us. My first initial thought was "Say no, going for meals where Cuteness and Tit all wind up being BAD NEWS" but obviously I say yes straight away!

So I arrive at Tit's place half an hour late, my bad, to a flat full of hung over ladies. Now I can definitely not say that I wasn't feeling hung over from a dinner and the maneater the night before and besides that I was also supposed to bring 2 bottles of champers but couldn't stomach the thought of 2 at the shop on my way. Anyway, there is Doc, Delicious, Cuteness, Tit and another 3 ladies there. I must just mention at this point that Durban and Von Dutch were evicted from the flat, so thanks guys!

I enter the door to Doc standing behind the stove making "scones" with a very pale skin tone, Tit doing something behind her (same pale skin tone), Delicious having a ciggie outside (not as pale skin tone) and Cuteness in all her glory on the couch (VERY pale skin tone!!!). The other 3 ladies looked perfect and I knew straight away that I was not alone in the hung over department, albeit that mine was pretty minor.

Tit says that we are all being pathetic and its time for the champers, so the first bottle is opened, time being 11:30 ish. Doc and I battle with 3 bottles and out of NO where, left field (well the couch), Cuteness comes out on the balcony (not looking very well) and opens the bottles no problem at all! So the champers is now flowing like the Orange River in full flood and the girls start to chat about the night before! Now I was only at the maneater for about 2 hours and the girls only arrived about an hour after me so when I left they were all still fine!!

The proceedings take place between the hours of 02:30 and 04:45:

• Cuteness in true Cuteness form manages to spend a good portion of that time in the ladies, don't worry Cuteness will stop there. Well drunk my girl, those Millers did not know what hit them!!!
• Doc manages to try and explain what "Love Me" at the end of an sms from a girl means to a random named Chris, don't think he got it though, mind you I didn't really understand the explination either
• Delicious did what Delicious does best...DANCE and run back and forth to check on Cuteness
• Durban was around, not too sure what he was up to
• Tit didn't make it out as she had a "work" lunch, dinner at her mom and drinks at Frankies

Anyway so all these details were discussed over a fantastic breakfast with "scones" that tasted like little bread rolls and a whole LOT of champers, mainly drunk by Tit and myself (something new and unusual). One thing that I must add is that us girls really do know how to laugh!!

This breakfast turned into afternoon drinks and then dinner and more drinks. Total time spent at Tit's house - almost 12 hours!!! One road trip was included during the day and I officially can't listen to Just Jack - Stars in Their Eyes anymore because of it!

Thank you Tit for hosting such an awesome day, we definitely need to make these Girl's "breakfasts" a much more regular thing. But always always make sure that it is after a bender of an evening out in town!

For friendship purposes many of the evenings details were left out. I would hate to dig a big hole I cannot get out of!

Love you too much all my girls!

Have a PMS/CBS free day now

Sweet Pea

P.S. Rodger the dodger is still alive and happily swimming around in his little glass home!

Here comes the bride...

From the time girls know the word marriage, they are planning theirs. We walk around with pillow cases on our heads, clutching a bunch of flowers and wearing a make-shift wedding dress. If we are very lucky our mothers keep their wedding dresses and so you are pretty close to the real thing. We know the correct speed and timing that we must walk down the isle to the famous wedding march. We all dream of our prince charming and know what colour tie he will be wearing and how his hair will be done. This is all before the age of 7.

When we hit our teens, this dream of perfect marriage is still there but no pillow cases are in sight. The dress, groom and colour scheme has (hopefully) changed but what hasn’t is the fact that we know exactly how things will be. We have a little more information on the wedding night and depending on the age, dream of being the virgin bride in some seductive little number. (This too changes with time). We do not wish for our wedding day but know it will be in the far future, when you are quite old (bout 24, I mean that ancient. Have to be married by then).

As we get closer to a fairly decent marriage age, we realize there is no such thing as a virgin bride and the seductive little number consists of less satin and more lace (or leather, depending what blows your hair back). Not only do we know what size our engagement ring will be, but we know the cut, setting and various styles that we like. In fact we have researched this. Stopping at jewelry ads and looking and deciding what you like, walking past the jewelry store and gazing at the large sparkly diamonds with wide excited eyes. We have discussed who our bridesmaids are and what type of style dress they will be wearing. Of course this has also been researched and discussed with the ladies concerned in great detail. We know which one will want a long dress because she doesn’t like her calves, which one wants a flowy skirt because her hips look big in tight things and we know if our hair is going to be in a simple up style or left down. We have a selection of songs which could be used as the ‘first dance’ song. Our colour scheme, dress and groom have once again changed. We have discussed with our proposed bridesmaids that we are to be dressed to kill, looking very sexy at our bachelorettes and NOT like that chick we saw on the weekend. At this stage 24 is far too bloody young to be getting married (it’s really not that old you know!) and the concept of marriage terrifies us hugely (but still the day is planned or being planned to perfection). In fact at this time in our lives we are more excited about the prospect of being a bridesmaid and all the perks that go along with that!!! We take bets as to who is going to be the first down the isle in that beautiful white dress (ahem).

And, before I forget, the honeymoon. Where it doesn’t matter if there lots of things to see and do, (as long as it’s a fairly exotic place) as we will be seeing and doing only ONE thing.

Funny how with all the wedding day preparation, we don’t seem to give much thought to the marriage itself and the fact that planning the wedding is just a scratch on the scratch of the surface of work to be done in order to have a successful life with the man you love. After all that’s the easy part right? As long as you look absolutely gorgeous on your day and it is in fact, the perfect wedding!

Remain infinitely cute

Text to know you

Beers and my sissy are particularly hard on their cell phones. So recently they decided it was completely pointless to get the top of the range, shiny and sparkly little phone because in a weeks time the screen would be cracked, the body of the cell phone chipped and scratched and the buttons would no longer work. My brother ventured to a shop that sold new phones that instead of saying “Nokia 350” would say “NNokia 350” or along those lines… He bought 2 of those indestructible type guys, the ones with rubber round the edges to protect it when you drop it and everything is waterproofed for when you drop it in your beer. He paid a whole 700 ZA Rant each for these new phones.

Once they were fully charged as per instructed, my sissy put her sim card in and switched it on only to discover that she had in fact received a second hand “new” phone. There was a whole list of phone numbers, texts and photos all on the phone. We were tempted to phone up the previous owner and ask if they had their phone stolen from them recently.

We learnt from the various text messages that the girls name is Fiona, and her close friends called her Fi. She lives in England and is single but most of her friends are in fact married. One of them was pretty preggies round the end of last year, while another had given birth to a little baby boy. Another friend had had twins (seriously what are they putting in the water with all these preggy people) a few months prior and another’s move into their new home went rather well. (this is a very busy group of people) a friend of hers wished our dear Fi a happy New year pretty early as she was prone to get very drunk and lose her cell phone. Mike Ordus was very excited for their date on Saturday, which judging by the follow up text went very well and he hoped to see her again soon. One of her friends had been terrible and hadn’t contacted her in a while and they should meet up at the pub soon to catch up. She had met the most wonderful man and wished to tell her all about him (no wonder the contact had been bad!)

Once we had read all the texts in the inbox, I felt myself slightly disappointed. I wanted to carry on my little soirée into this woman’s life, I felt like I knew her. I wanted to text Shanna and ask her how little Richard was doing; last I had heard he had just popped out the womb. And the twins? Are they talking yet? Causing the young parents to pull out their hair yet? And Fi? How did things go with Mike, are they still together, is he the ONE? I feel like I know you so well and have so much in common with you. How do you deal with being one of the last single people in your group of friends? And the friend that dumped you for her new man? Was he that wonderful, or did he leave her broken hearted and alone? And why do YOU think some girls do that, find a man and you never see them? Or have I got it wrong, is that how it works? Is there no balance between the 2?

It is truly amazing what you can learn about a person from a few lines of text. How you can get to know them through their mates’ reactions and words used when ‘speaking to them’

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Talking while saying Nothing.

Recently I was chatting to a good mate of mine. A friend of his had broken up with his long-term girlfriend who he seemed to absolutely adore. I didn’t quite understand what had happened because, as an outsider, they had seemed like the perfect couple who would go the distance. He explained things from the guy’s perspective. The girl, who had come from a very well-known and wealthy family, was studying a particularly tedious degree that would result in her being a much respected professional. This from the boyfriend’s perspective was intimidating as he was from a rather humble background and his degree, while not simple, would not result in a specific profession. The fact that this girl was definitely going places eventually took its toll on the boyfriend and he ended it. This statement led me down a path of thought that took me from Paris Hilton to Simone de Beauvoir and even the French porn movie Emmanuelle.

It is said that girls perform better in single sex schools. One imagines that in the 21st century that females are no longer ‘dumbing themselves down’ in the presence of men so to come across as a less intimidating and more appealing. If one had to picture an intellectual female she would be wearing a long neutral colour skirt below the knees a white blouse, drab mousy hair in a ponytail, flat sensible shoes and tortoise-shell glasses. She would be clutching a book to her chest. A regular ‘plain Jane.’ One imagines a sexy woman; she is blonde, tall, slim, barely clothed, large breasteses, big red lips and a bimbo. (Of course I am generalizing here). Why is this? Can a woman not be beautiful and intelligent? Can her intelligence not make her beautiful as apposed to plain? And why is an intelligent woman so intimidating, not only to men, but to other woman?

Simone de Beauvoir is a French female icon. Why? She was not a model or designer or actress but an intellectual. She was born in 1908 and at 21 moved to Paris to study philosophy at the Sorbonne. She then was one of the first women to be accepted to the Ecole Normale Superieure, the French answer to Oxford. In 1928 she met her life partner, the philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre and remained with him till his death. She is most famous for her book The second sex, published in 1949, a ground-breaking feminist work. For some she is seen as the initiator of real female emancipation. Now try and picture this woman? Someone who was an outspoken feminist, involved to a serial cheating philosopher. I’m sure (maybe) she is no Angelina Jolie and (he is no Brad Pitt.) However, recently this intellectual pair was compared to this glamorous Hollywood couple. Not for any other reason but to turn them into glamorous sex symbols. And why? Because the French VALUE intellect. They find intelligent women to be sexy and appealing. For the French, a part of a woman’s sexual animalistic appeal is her strong and clever mind. And so French women spend their time stimulating their minds by attending art galleries, reading meaningful literature and having heated, complex intellectual discussions. There is no ‘dumbing themselves down’ to come across as less intimidating and more appealing. After discovering this attitude toward intellect, Simone de Beauvoir is no longer the mousy-haired plain Jane but a tall, slender, glamorous seductress who teased men with her intellect and seduced them with her body and mind.
Emmanuelle (basically Emmanuelle went to Thailand and had a lot of sex, as one does) the famous French porn movie based on the book written by Emmanuelle Arsan (pseudonym) is full of philosophy. The French find it difficult to separate body, mind and soul and even this character finds this a difficult task ‘When I have an orgasm, it’s my spirit having an orgasm in my body; it’s not my body returning to some earlier bestial state! You want the spirit to take only pleasure in itself. Why? Life is wonderful throughout, in flesh as well as the spirit.’

Now on the other end of the spectrum, Paris Hilton. She is by no means an intellectual icon. In fact many would argue that she could not pronounce the word intellectual and define the word icon. Now I happen to think, although some don’t agree, that she is a stunning woman. (A man once told me he believes I am hotter than she, and should the opportunity arise I shall show this man exactly how much I appreciated the compliment, continuously for 2 weeks and then everyday after that, for the rest of our lives). But one thing that most people strongly disagree with me about is that Paris Hilton is in fact, quite an intelligent individual (and no it’s not because she is also of Scandinavian decent). What exactly is this annoying blonde famous for? Nothing. People cannot stand her, what she stands for or her various antics and yet they cannot get enough of her. If we look at her less famous sister, she has displayed a keen business sense and intelligence and how did I initially refer to her? The less famous sister. No dumb blonde turns around when her sex tape comes out and says go ahead and sell it, people are going to see it, they have seen it, there is very little I can do BUT I want a percentage of the profits. Dumb hey?
Paris Hilton has made millions of her own and remains famous despite doing very little worthy of her notoriety. People say it is because of her last name. But her sister shares this name and her looks, but is not as famous or as talked about. Part of Paris Hilton’s appeal is her stupidity. Which is, to a large extent, in my opinion, an act. I wonder where Paris would be if she didn’t dumb herself down? Famous in France only perhaps?

While most women seem to be behaving as though they are silly, stupid and simple, young girls with role models like Paris Hilton, French women are seducing men with their incredible sex appeal which in part if formed by their proud display of their keen intellect and strong knowledge. There is a fascination was with French women, their flawless style, fabulous figures, sophistication and the ability to tie a scarf in a hundred and one different ways. All of this seems innate and books have been written about French women and their amazing secrets. Think I will have to read some more on the French women to understand this fascination and maybe pick up a few tips.


Luckily not all men appreciate the silliness and like their women with a brain and a good pair of legs.

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High Maintenance

Well hair is not a girl’s friend. We spend our time plucking, shaving, waxing, trimming and dying. One can eliminate the hair removal problem with permanent laser hair removal. Although there is nothing like sitting in a disposable g-string with an ice-pack giving you frost-bite on your va-jay-jay with your legs spread and twisting in unnatural ways while a woman sits there wearing protective eyewear zapping away your hairs. There is less dignity in that then having it waxed, if one can believe it. Luckily underarms aren’t so intrusive so every second month I get a reprieve. Shaving is also no fun and I cannot wait until I'm big to have my leg-hairs lasered let me tell you. Every time I shave my legs I need a blood transfusion, shaving something I just haven’t mastered. Plucking isn’t painful literally but it is a pain in the ass.
And then there is the hair on the head. Hair that is my length is very very high maintenance! At least I no longer spend 3 and a half hours (yes 3 and a half) in the hairdresser since I returned to my brunette roots. Being blonde is just ridiculous to keep looking decent and not like someone dropped shoe-polish on my roots.

So today I headed off to the hairdresser for my monthly trim. An hour later I come out looking like an Elvive model, there is a gust of wind and my hair wushes up making me look just worth it.
Now I love it when people play gently with my hair, gives me such nice goosies! And never mind the head massage you get while having your hair washed. Its complete bliss. Then this woman walks in with this nasal voice that goes straight through my head. I look up and see a +/- 70 year old woman with a huge blonde quaff and so much makeup I can hardly believe there is any left in the world. Her eyeliner is similar to what I imagine Tutankhamen would wear. Thick solid black lines just above and below the lash line, extending to her mid-temple. She was wearing a little brown lace cammy (70years) and no bra (70). The dart-things that are usually just below the bust line were sitting above her breasteses. TOOO MUCH

Now this completely pointless and unrelated semi-rant results on 2 toasts….
To permanent hair removal which I will use everywhere possible!
And to growing old gracefully.

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Idle Hands

They say idle hands are the Devil’s tools. This weekend I found myself in a rather pensive state where it occurred to me that the in fact, idle hands is the Devil’s playground. When you are busy, your mind is occupied, focusing on the task at hand. When there is little occupying one’s mind, we find a way to occupy it. This is where the Devil begins to play, making your best asset an enemy, stirring up feelings of self-loathing and doubt. He creates a strong dislike for not only yourself but all people, slowly picking away at your faith in human kind. Your mind wonders to a place that is dark, filled with the wrongs that have left permanent aching sores on your soul.

There is the usual things that play on my mind, the ones I try not to think too much about otherwise my little perfectly controlled world will fall apart. But they are always there, when I’m studying, working or laughing and having fun with my friends, they never leave me. They are so intrinsically apart of you that even though you wish to exorcise yourself of these demons, you never will. They are part of you, like your eyelashes and lips. This weekend, this is not where my mind ventured, I wonder when it will because this is a place I need to visit and haven’t.

With my mind wondering, I tried to busy myself but this did not work. It has been playing on me and so I thought perhaps to write it, it would finally leave me, offer me some resolve on this issue. I stood looking at my reflection for a while, knowing how I see myself and wondering how others see me. I focus on the reactions and behaviours of men, as this is what has sent me to this place. I look at myself and see someone who has thoughts and feelings, opinions and reasons. But clearly men do not see this. They see a thing, something that is there for their enjoyment. I have no worth or value. No input. When they hear stories of men and their disregard for females, they act shocked and say they hate such men, women are there to be adored and treated with respect. I have yet to meet these men.

Perhaps it is my fault, because not all women are treated like I am and the treatment seems to follow me, remaining the same, only the men are different and my life stages. Do I encourage the disrespect, the treatment that’s upsets me and makes me feel vile. I look around and see some women being treated like princesses and I am nothing but a piece of meat, meaningless and unworthy. And yet I am tired of being treated like meat, something to be toyed with, regardless of my wishes, and then tossed. I look at my friends and try emulating their behaviour, the behaviour that seems to avoid such treatment, but mostly unsuccessfully.
So clearly the problem is with me, I encourage it. Maybe it doesn’t follow me but I seek it, ask for it, deserve it.

And so the Devil played well, despite my efforts to remain out of this place.

Meet Beers..

Meet Beers.

On Friday, after a little family dinner for the pair of runts, we headed off to Frankie Bananas. Doc, Durban, Delicious and Token were all there and my brother and his mate joined us. Was a fairly good evening but having my brother there made things very interesting, simply because of who he is….

Beers, which he will now be known as, is called this for two reasons. Firstly when he introduces himself people often think he is saying I’m Beers, it’s very similar to his name and secondly because he can drink like no one I have ever seen, it is ridiculous.

Beers is the kind of man that every other man should fear and every mother and female loves. He just has to look at a female and she is ready to bear his children. He, essentially, is a womanizing superhero with powers rendering the opposite sex defenseless. (I have to wonder why some of this magic was not passed onto me, the injustice I tell you) We cannot have dinner in a restaurant without the waitress hitting on him. My mother is a teacher at his old high school and when he goes there the female teachers, even the ones that taught him, look at him so that he (and I quote) “feel like I need a shower afterwards.” He has had women ready to leave their fiancés after spending just a few hours with him. He has had a few crazy girlfriends who ended up stalking him along with their mothers!!!

He was a national cyclist (with lots of toned cyclist friends in lycra mmmmm.) until a car accident prevented him from competing at a professional level and so he started to work like most of the population before going into semi-retirement a year and a half ago.

A few weeks after my twenty-first I discovered that he had successfully felt up every single one of my female friends. I suspect this could have been the case on Friday (apologies friends) and he gave every male mate a hard time whilst plying them with alcohol. He did however, find a long lost brother in Durban.
His friend, an actor on Egoli, met a few fans, which was hysterical. Nothing like a bunch of huge Greek type guys acting like giddy little school-girls over some EGOLI ACTOR. There was a rather inappropriate comment from him, which luckily Beers dealt with (he has his uses).

Meet Beers. My crazy, supremely intelligent (no really), womanizing elder brother.

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