Recently in Red Whine Category

Turns out my face is too scary even for radio...

That's right. I got STOOD UP.

By a DJ.

I kept quiet all weekend (okay, okay... but I tried, honestly) and soothed my voice with honey and milk coffee in anticipation of my big radio interview on Monday afternoon. It turns out it was all for naught, because there WAS no call, no interview.

Normally a girl should at least get one complimentary dinner before the guy decides not to phone, no?

Remember my ratty, so enormous it swallowed up my entire room, has-been, executive office swivel chair (circa 1970's/1980's), covered in torn, grayish (but it's really an unidentifiable colour) pleather, purchased by me in April from a second-hand shop?

It is dead.

In pieces.

I am such a loser, even the furniture is breaking up with me...

Today I am older than I have EVER been before!

And yes, I know I said that last year, but this year it is really true, because last year I wasn't THIS old.

Luckily, to soften the blow a bit, I'm not the only one ageing today. Today is also the Ageing Day of an ex-boyfriend. (Happy birthday to us, Johnny Boy!) He is calling me from Mallorca later, the bum. Oh, well. At least he never forgets!

It is also Cameron Diaz's birthday.

And Mary Shelley, who scribbled Frankenstein. She created the monster when she was a mere 18 years old. In those moments when I suffer from delusions of grandeur, I pretend that I'm her reincarnation. WHADOYOUMEAN I'm more Frankenstein than Shelley?!?

My mom called me just after noon today to wish me. She waited to phone, she said, because I wasn't born until midday.

"What?" I asked. "You mean to tell me that there is actually a time of day before noon? I had no idea!"

Let it be known therefore that it is my birth right to sleep until noon. If only because I was such a considerate kid. You have to admit, it WAS rather nice of me to wait until the doctor was fully awake.

I had some more good news today. After some minor adjustments to it, the scale told me that I was 5 kilos lighter than I was yesterday!

They say with age comes wisdom. What about senility then? How do they (whoever THEY are) explain that then, huh? In my case, it's definitely more senility than wisdom. So I've decided to call it wisdumb.

Tomorrow I shall tell you about some of the wisdumb I've acquired through the years.

For now, my arthritic fingers need to rest.

Curled around the biggest cup of coffee it can find.

If your biggest fear on earth was, say, a fear of heights.

And then one day, someone - who knows full well what your fear is and how serious that fear is - misleads you and you end up on a 'plane and when you're 10,000 ft up there (or however high), they suddenly strap you into a parachute and say: "Surprise!" and push you out the door.

Should they really be taken aback if you are less than thrilled and never, EVER want to speak to them again? Would you also be so upset and distressed that you would sob?

And no, the above is all metaphorically speaking. I hate heights, yes, but love flying. Won't go skydiving though.

Can't cope. Hate my life. Wish I could just "Poof!" vanish...

I've always secretly hoped that she was "plump" like me.

I mean, for Heaven's sake, half of her blog's title consists of food!

But despite my fervent wishes, I knew that she wouldn't be fat. She attracts way too much male attention for that, and well, we can say what we want about South African men (or Earthling men, for that matter), but they prefer to bypass girls like me who have tonnes of... personality... to have slight, slinky things dangling from their arms. (Any man who wants to convince me otherwise, feel free to try and persuade me over a fully-expenses paid dinner. With desert.)

And the other day she confirmed my worst suspicions... she is thin. Not just thin, but, according to herself, bones-are-visible thin. And if you've been one of my imaginary readers for long enough, then you would know that, as the world's first and only blubbery, boneless woman, I have always fantasized about not only possessing bones, but actually being able to poke people's eyes out with 'em!

To add further insult to my injured and burdened-by-extra-lard soul: She says that when she stresses, she loses her appetite. Loses! Her appetite!!!

I would never be able to lose my appetite, even if I had wanted to. Wouldn't you know it, but my appetite and I were born joined at the lip. So no matter how hard I try, I could never ignore this enormous appetite clinging to my lip like a stubborn cold sore and glowering at me like a wild and ravenous animal. My appetite suffers from year-long PMS and low blood sugar, and if I don't constantly sate it, there is hell to pay.

So as you can see, stress has the opposite effect on me than it has on her. My heart only needs to speed up by one beat per hour, then every edible morsel within a 500 kilometre radius of me hurtles into the magnetic force field of my mouth and violently flings itself down my throat.

I really have very little say in the matter. And even if I had wanted to protest, I couldn't, because my mouth is full.

See why I write for a living? It's my only means of communication! (Yeah, yeah, I know... one would THINK that I would be better at it then...)

Anyway, back to Miss Mushy Peas on (thinly sliced) toast. I really want to hate her for being skinny and pretty and not eating when she is stressed, but by being charming and clever and oh-so-witty (as has been reinforced and affirmed by her being awarded the Most Humourous Blog Award at Friday's South African Blog Awards), she has made it nearly impossible to dislike her. Even though I still believe that it should be genetically impossible for thin, pretty girls to have brains, personality and talent. It's too unfair!

Yes, it was the South African Blog Awards on Friday night, and even though that other blog I write for lost, my brilliant boss/friend (bossy friend? Friendly boss!), whose blog title also mocks me by being edible, Cherryflava scooped up the award for Best Business Blog. I'm so proud of him!

The other big winner of the night is another skinny bitch - despite the fact that her slight frame has borne twins!! Mommy blogger Tertia strutted away with the major prize of the night for winning Blog of the Year AND for Best Writing!

Unfortunately they didn't win large food hampers... Although Tertia DID win an Apple.

Good thing I wasn't even nominated in that category, because in the highly unlikely event of me winning, I probably would've devoured the damn thing.

Last night I had the WORST nightmare.

No, it wasn't my usual "falling" dream where I have that roller-coaster feel on the pit of my stomach as I'm falling through space, and then I jolt awake just as I'm supposed to hit the ground... or in my case, the sharp rocks I am hurtling towards.

Analyse THAT!

Or don't.

Anyway, this nightmare also didn't contain monsters, bogeymen or ghosts.

It was worse. MUCH worse.

I was out in a shopping mall in the States, and I ran into my ex boyfriend and his current girlfriend.

Apart from the fact that the witch was blonde (of course! Grrr...), I don't remember any exact details.

Except... and this is the truly nightmarish part...

This is UNBELIEVABLE.

Exactly a year to the day of my arrival back in South Africa, where my welcome home present was the prompt theft of my precious laptop (let me just say, NEVER allow a South African Airways crewmember to assist you with your carry-on luggage aboard a flight, because you might never see your precious cargo ever again), the laptop I had been using since June died yesterday. Just like that. One minute we were still happily chained to one another, dreaming up blog posts and columns, and the next minute... kaput. No great explosion. The screen simply went black and the comforting whir of the machine simply grew silent.

I don't know what it is with Christmas and laptops and me.

So I'm typing this on my mom's ancient Dinosaur of a pc using D...I...A...L...U...P. And I have deadlines to meet and right now the only thing I want to do is curl up and die too.

Please send loads of sympathy my way?

Today marks the one year anniversary of the demise of my precious American Dream.

I think I'm still so heartbroken about it, because its two brutal murderers got off scot free.

If you happen to find yourself in my beloved United States (or any other country that serves Starbucks), please head on over and have a grande latte on my behalf? I still suffer withdrawal symptoms...

Also, if it's not too much trouble, pet a dog and think about me. A large yellow labrador retriever will be especially ideal, but I don't discriminate, so really, any dog will do.

In memory of Redsaid's American Dream: November 10, 1996 - December 24, 2005. Rest in pieces.

... set it free, and if, on its maiden flight to freedom, it is blown to pieces with a sawed off shotgun, then you'll have to live with the guilt for the rest of your life.

Don't ask.

How do I loathe thee*? Let me count the ways.
I loathe thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling bandwidth slight
For the lack of free local calls, such ideal Grace.
I loathe thee to the level of everyday’s
Most desperate need for unlimited surfing, by the monitor’s soft light.
I loathe thee intensely, as we strive for cheap, unthrottled broadband internet – our human Right;
I loathe thee completely, as thou turn further from reasons that would be worthy of Praise.
I loathe thee with the hatred thou use to aggrieve us, and cause our loss of faith.
I loathe thee with a loathing I seem to gain
With my lost Rand and Cents, - I loathe thee with the shallow, panicked breaths,
Sorrows, tears, of all my internet-less life! – and, if ICASA should at last choose a competitor,
I shall but rest better only after thine slow and painful death**.

* Yes, you’ve guessed it. Due to painfully slow dial-up and costly local calls – okay, yes, AND due to my lack of restraint and complete and utter need to be online a LOT – my mom’s phone/internet bill was really REALLY high. And my sister’s and bro-in-law’s as well. So if I get scarce(r than usual), just know that I’ll be offline somewhere, in the REAL world (*shudders at the thought*), where I’ll be doing something to try and pay off these debts I have all because our country has a manipulative, sadistic phone monopoly who hates South Africans and don’t believe that we should be allowed to have free local calls or inexpensive and unlimited broadband access.

** And upon Telkom’s demise, I shall gladly write an elegy.