After wrestling to open the box (just about gnawed it open with my teeth, I was so excited! Yes, indeed: You can take the girl out of Africa, but...) I carefully lifted out the contents. Wow! There was a LOT of stuff. I felt the same way that a magician probably feels when pulling an endless stream of coloured hankerchiefs from a hat, because just as I thought that I was done for sure, I uncovered something else!

I can't remember the order in which I found things, but here's the inventory of all the goodies. (Make yourself comfortable with your beverage of choice for this, because the list is loooooooooooong.)

No less than FOUR awesome movie soundtrack CDs: Cruel Intentions, Spider-Man, Dick (and they all rock!) and Random Hearts which is soothing jazz composed by Dave Grusin, whose movie scores I've always, always adored!

Then... TWO t-shirts (one black Spider-Man tee and one in a gorgeous light blue from the film Something's Gotta Give) and TWO stunning hooded Spider-Man sweat-shirts in a gorgeous rusty red.

AND a hard-cover book about the only mouse I've ever liked: Stuart Little. The book is amazing. It contains detailed information about how a handful of super talented folks used highly sophisticated techniques and managed to turn E.B. White's 1945 classic into the very sweet movie that we all fell in love with.

Eve, I don't know which Hollywood studio you robbed of all these lovely things (although I suspect that movie memorabilia is probably available in your line of work), but I just want to say that I ADORE all of it. The music is amazing, the tees and sweats are high quality and all in my favourite colours and I swear I squealed with delight when I saw the book because I've always been interested in animation (in fact, I've been attempting to learn MAYA on my own, but to no avail).

But wait... there's more. Turns out Emily added a personal touch.

So the whole day, as I was listening to all the CDs and dancing around (most exercise I've had in years!), I was wearing... thanks to Emily... my very own,

dazzling,

sparkling,

oh-so-dainty-that-I-could-almost-pass-for-a-lady:

TIARA!!!!!!!!!!

Thank you SOOOO much, Emily and Eve.

Aren't I just too spoiled?!?

(Update: 4 AM and I'm still wearing the tiara. The boy bowed down very deeply when he came home last night and saw me wearing it, so now I'm seriously considering never, ever taking it off again. Ever. I'll just have to figure out ways to sleep sitting up (without compromising any of my comfort, of course) and to wash and condition and style and tame my very wild mane around it.)

now that the shock has worn off a tiny bit and the coffee making and drinking dilemma have been sorted out (Quick hint though: never EVER chew coffee grinds. It's awful on the teeth and quite messy and just generally distasteful), I can proceed with the Blogging Acceptance Speech.

She fumbles with the microphone - producing an eardrum-splitting whistling sound in the process - coughs nervously and gracefully pulls the back of her gown out of her stockings.

In a small voice, she says: "Ladies and gentlemen..."

She squints into the dark auditorium, then continues to give the acceptance speech of a lifetime:

"Ladies and gentlemen... I would just like to say that I'm... speechless."

(I've always wanted to do that!)

But alas, dear readers (Wow... are you guys for REAL?!? I’m not used to having genuine readers – sad, I know, especially considering that I used to be a reporter and all – and I just hope that I can amuse you guys as much as I amuse myself. Ha ha ha. See?), you are not going to be let off that easily! So please brace yerselves darlings, because I’m now going to gush and be grateful and mushy and corny.
(*This means that I’ll probably continue to overindulge in my gross overuse of parentheses, exclamation points, asterisks, etc.)

You're REALLY in for it now, because apart from a "luxury" seaside vacation in an RV courtesy of a South African radio station (also during those infamous high school days!), I've never won anything.

So, cue Alanis Morissette’s Thank You song and let’s begin.

Firstly, I have to thank Emily yet AGAIN (I’ve promised her that I’ll stop, because I’ve already spammed her with all my thank you e-mails), because this contest was her brainchild after all! So, thank you again, dear, and thank you also for the domain name. I’m afraid that you’ve just created yourself a blog-O-monster! (Just call me Frankenstina!)

Also, thank you in ADVANCE for all the tech support I’m going to need from you. I’m convinced that I’m going to try and test your patience several times over the next few months with my web and tech stupidity. Here’s hoping that you never regret doing this though! One thing I know for sure is that I won’t easily commit blogicide ever again with you by my side! Oh, and thanks for the e-mail account that is a part of this! It’s soo coooool!

Then, Christine, my gracious hostess via Blogomania for the next year: thank you soooo much! May your wedding day tomorrow (! Wow!) be a blast, setting the tone for an amazing marriage.

Joelle and BlogMoxie… this design ROCKS! Thank you for staying up and burning the midnight oil to get this done. You are an artist and a genius! I can’t even begin to fathom having to do something like this myself.

Bob, thank you for the “additional script programming.” See, I’m so web savvy (NOT!) I don’t even have a clue what that means, only that it sounds really important and time-consuming and I appreciate it because I can hardly send and receive e-mails by myself (seriously, I’m unfortunately not kidding. See above-mentioned bit about forgetting to add water to coffee in case you’ve any doubts!).

And then (and I can’t believe this entails even MORE cool stuff!):

Thank you Eve (I really, really dig Spiderman! I actually went through a whole intense comic book reading and collecting phase in high school (before falling down the manhole. Oh, and no, Jennsabsent, I never did get that boy! Poor thing probably dislocated his arms when he had to hoist me out of that hole!). My wise-ass friend AirMatix wants to know if the gift includes some type of body suit. I told him that a SpiderMAN suit wasn’t designed to fit over boobs, big or small (and I’ll leave that bit to your (overactive, I'm sure)imaginations.). Thank you so much. I’m SOOO excited!

Then, Joz and Lomara, thank you VERY much for the generous Amazon gift certificates. You guys rock! I think I’ll use it to expand my ever-growing how-to collection!

To the honorable Judges (and I’m not even sure who all of you are yet!): Thank you very much for deeming me worthy of this honour (and it really is an honour!). I believe it when you say that this decision was a tough one to make and that it came down to a very close call!

Which brings me to the next thanks: To my fellow prize-winners Carmen and Kalisa. Congratulations to you both and I don’t doubt for a minute that you deserved this as much (or even more) than me! To you guys (and to everyone else who entered) keep on writing (Kalisa, get a blog!) and thank you.

And lastly (phew! Yes finally!)… To everyone who has already been kind enough to come by and read and comment (and who are STILL commenting! Wow, this is AMAZING!!! Is this what fame feels like?!? Hahahaha!) and congratulate me… THANK YOU! Having actual readers (yeah, I’m still not over that!) is a very novel concept. Maybe I should change the title of this blog to Redsaid and GASP… a few people actually listened! Ha ha. Naah, I think it’s perfect just as it is right now, don’t you?

Thanks again, everyone. I can't believe your generosity and I'm humbled by the talents of everyone who is making this possible.

I seriously hope that I can live up to this!

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! (More delayed reaction. Can you blame me though?)

Footnotes:

* – Hey, if time is money and I have lots of time… See my logic?

** , ***, and **** – I would never EVER suck up to the judges!

***** – I would never EVER try and win by disclosing all the hardships in my life (and oh, alas, alack, woe me, for there are many!) and get you to award the blog to me out of sheer pity.

****** – Except maybe occasionally. I only (over)used them here because this contest seemed solemn enough to require written pieces with footnotes. So rest assured, for the asterisks (and the annoying parentheses) are just a passing phase.

I’ve been the clumsy fool eating dirt more times than one can shake a stick at. And of course, this always happens in front of scores of onlookers. Ironically though, whenever I’m all by myself with no witnesses around for miles, I gracefully glide across the roughest terrain. In heels.

Then there was this rather mysterious and life threatening phase I went through during which I proceeded to choke on wine during first dates. (And there were many, because during that pitiful period I never scored a second date. Yes, alas, I was the original one date wonder!) Do you have any idea how difficult it is to try and look composed and appealing and understated and chic and together when you are desperately (but daintily!) wheezing while slowly turning various shades of first red, then white and then blue? After a while I even tried changing my choice of beverage. I started trading in the usual merlot for chardonnay. And nearly died.

And while we’re on the subject of food and beverage: On many of those same fateful-and-nearly-fatal dates I’ve flashed what I (mistakenly) thought to be my most perfect smile (and yes, this usually happened before the choking, when I still had some hope.). You know, that same toothpaste commercial grin girls reserve as a sexy accompaniment to the vigorous batting of their eyelashes? Only to come home to the mirror and finding that standard classic: various bits of food (usually something dark green but looking black and disgusting) dangling from between my two front teeth.

Not to mention all those many, many times when my mouth became an entity altogether separate from my brain, allowing me to say the MOST INAPPROPRIATE things at the most inopportune times. Like when I told a competitor in the high school beauty pageant how one of the judges had confided in me that he wasn’t at all happy with the outcome. And yes, you’ve guessed it: that same girl was crowned queen just a few minutes after I had given her all the juicy details about why this judge despised her…

How about leaving the restroom with the back of one’s dress tucked into one’s pantyhose? Why yes, of course that has happened to me. In hind sight (and yes, lame pun totally intended) I can’t believe how I could’ve ignored that sudden draft I felt on my rear!

I’ve also been caught in lies by the people I had lied to. Few experiences are as humiliating as those. And rightfully so.

But if you really, really insist, I’ll pick just one Most Embarrassing Moment.

I’ll base my selection on the following criteria:

It has to be something that happened in front of a lot of people. It has to be an event that occurred thanks to my own stupidity/clumsiness/lack of judgment and the way that my stars were aligned that day. So in other words I’m not counting any moments directly or intentionally caused by other people.

And this is my choice for My Most Embarrassing Moment (thus far, at least… but give me time. I’m sure I’ll eventually upstage it with something worse!):

It was 1992 and I was a senior in high school back in my native South Africa.

Every afternoon I had to catch one of two city buses to transport me home. As luck would have it, our school shared a bus stop with neighboring Pretoria Boys’ High School. This was very, very nice, especially since I went to a performing arts high school where we boy-crazy, hormone-driven teenage girls didn’t have too many heterosexual boys to choose from.

So, we used those afternoons at the bus stop to flirt and ogle and show off and bat our eyelashes in order to get noticed.

On that fateful afternoon, my girlfriends and I were intent on performing our usual ritual. I was particularly excited, because a handsome boy I had a crush on was also at the bus stop that day, instead of being at the afternoon rugby practice. That’s probably why I was particularly boisterous and giddy and barely able to keep my eyes off the object of my adoration.

So his handsome face was probably what I was seeing when the ground suddenly fell away underneath my patent leather school shoes…

The next thing I knew, I was eye-level with many, many pairs of shoes. Concerned voices were asking if I was okay.

I had fallen into a manhole.

Well, to be more precise, it was still being dug out (otherwise I probably would’ve emerged with more things crushed than just my fragile teenage ego). Apparently I had walked right past all the larger than life “beware” signs that were put up by the construction team, but because my head was buried in clouds, I never saw it…

To tell you the truth, I have no recollection about how I got out of the hole. Must’ve blocked it out due to the horror and trauma I was certainly experiencing right then.

From later accounts, delivered with great relish through hysterical fits of giggles by my friends who bore witness to my tumble, I gathered that my crush was among the boys who hoisted me back to Mother Earth’s upper crust. Apparently my rescue was quite an entertaining spectacle, involving lots of flailing limbs (mine), blushing, and a torn skirt offering a panoramic view of my underwear…

For the rest of that year, I volunteered at various after-school activities.

And from that day, whenever I walked to the bus stop to catch the later bus home, my eyes remained firmly and hypnotically fixed on the sidewalk.

The result is that I can fill a library with all the books I have on “How to speak French/Italian/Egyptian Arabic/Swahili/English (yes, it is my second “tongue!”);” “How to play the piano/guitar/organ/harmonica/saw;” “How to be succinct and to the point when you write.”

And of course I can’t do any of those things.

However, there’s one skill that I almost mastered in high school. A boyfriend’s ultra-cool mom taught me how to whistle with two fingers. Unfortunately that boyfriend was history before I was able to manage anything other than a pathetic little “pfffffffffft” sound that was more a whisper than anything else.

Without access to the ex’s mom, I kept on trying on my own for a while, but eventually gave up defeated when I lost all feeling in my lips and tongue.

Well, this desire to master the two-fingered whistle returned with a renewed vengeance recently.

My current beau is part of an a cappella group, and I’ve been their loyal “groadie” (that’s the term one uses for people like me who do double duty as groupies and roadies) for the past two years. Now I’ve reached the point where mere applause and yelling: “Whoo!” aren’t sufficient ways to express my appreciation as an audience member anymore.

So I’ve been practicing again. And I’m happy to report that I’m almost back to recreating my pathetic “pfffft” of ten years ago, numb lips and all.

And in my enthusiasm, I want to teach everyone around me, because I think a glass shattering, deafening two-finger whistle is one of the coolest and most impressive skills both guys and gals can possess.

Here’s how you get started. All you need is – and this is going to sound almost naughty - a pair of lips, a tongue (preferably your own!), most of your teeth and, from either hand, at least two (clean!) fingers (any two will do, although these pairs are recommended: index finger and thumb, or middle finger and thumb). If you have both hands to spare, then you can use your right and left index or middle fingers, or your right and left pinkies.

If you’re able to (and it’s okay if you can’t, it’s a genetic thing), roll your tongue into a u-shape. If you can’t, simply fold your tongue over so that the tip lies towards the back of your mouth. If you’re STILL unable to do that, then read on.

With your bottom and top rows of teeth slightly apart, place your chosen combination of fingers on opposite ends of your rolled up tongue. (Tip: your fingers should point towards each other. In fact, you can almost slightly pinch your tongue to define the tunnel a bit more. Also, your fingers go in about halfway between the corners and center of your lips, and are only inserted to the first knuckles. No need to shove it down your throat for this exercise!) If your tongue isn’t rolled but folded back, place your fingers inside the loop, pointed towards each other.

Now, we get to the potentially lip-numbing exercise. Tighten your lips and fold them into your mouth over your teeth. For most of us rather thin-lipped folk, your lips should be almost entirely invisible at this point. If you have trouble keeping your lips inside, change the order of events and fold your lips after you roll your tongue and before you put your fingers in, so that your fingers can help to keep your lips in place.

Now exhale and blow… and hope for the best. Don’t despair if you generate no sound at first. This is normal. Experiment with your tongue and finger placement until you hear something other than just air being blown out. If you are anything like me, this will take a while. You’d better pause periodically otherwise you may become light-headed and faint.

Okay, now, for those whose tongues are less agile, repeat the following really fast: “Rred Lorrry, Yellow Lorrry…” No, I’m just kidding.

Tighten and fold your lips as above.

Insert your chosen combination of fingers, using them to keep your lips in place over your teeth.

Now, simply pull back your tongue so that its front tip touches the bottom of your mouth just behind the lower gums.

Exhale and blow.

Continue experimenting with the position of the tongue and fingers until you make a sound.

And as soon as you do make a sound, start showing it off! Go ahead, summon packs of dogs from three counties over, hail cabs, impress your date, shatter glass, make your appreciation heard at concerts and sporting events, upstage construction workers…