dipshittery

Someone needs her own blog

Posted in Dizzy*, adventure, awkward conversation, bitching, dipshittery on July 19th, 2010 by admin – 6 Comments

The following story told by Dizzy*

Where you at??? I just have to share this with you. It’s too funny, and gross, not to.

So I haven’t had coffee in a while, right? I mean a really good, not-self-labour cappuccino (and with all the references to the good Italian cappuccinos in Eat, Love Pray, I’ve been a-craving) so I head on over to our local eatery in the business park here, meet up with Adrian for a lovely cuppa and catchup. And the coffee is soo good. Totally worth it and I get to the bottom of the cup and notice this odd cube-like thing the size of a 10 cent sweet at the bottom of my cup. I stop smaking my lips and start poking the bugger. And it has this firm, spongy consistency and Adrian takes is out of the cup and starts poking it, both of us trying to figure out what the hell it is while I try not to gag.

So then he cuts it in two and it has this weird off white, almost beige, stringy centre.

So I head on over to the counter and tell the two ladies, “Excuse me, but I found this, this THING in my coffee cup”. And they start poking it as well and then the one picks it up with her fingers, squashes it and says, “Oh, it’s a piece of chicken!”

And I’m like, “Ewww what?”

And cover my mouth as I feel myself grilling*!

And she responds saying, “What? Don’t you eat meat??”

WTF??! Clearly missing the point entirely!!

* Editor – Yeah, I’m not entirely sure what “grilling” means either.

Estate Agency & dark coloured babies

Posted in Bullshit, awkward conversation, classic Sid, dipshittery, fear factor, feelings, good times, gran on July 7th, 2010 by admin – 3 Comments

Two blog posts in a day. Damn, I’m on fire!

Back when I was young and beautiful and had millions of suitors who loved me not for my body but for my intelligence, I worked as a receptionist at an Estate Agency. I hated that job. I hated every minute of it. And every time I consider leaving my current job I remind myself of how much worse life can be. That’s right bitches, fear is holding me back.

But THIS story isn’t about how much I hated my old job and former boss. What I’d like to talk about today is a conversation I overheard while working in THAT hellhole for R2 000 a month. That right, R2 000 a month! I had an honors degree in Science, no less, and I was working as a receptionist at a shitty ass agency for R2 000 a month. AND I worked Saturdays as well!!! Do you have any idea how little R2 000 is??? Fuck, my current monthly payments on my car is double that.

Struggling to find a job in the environmental field, I eventually settled for a job answering phones and contemplating suicide. This mind you, was not a permanent position. I was simply a stand-in for a woman who was on the verge of ejecting a kid from her vagina.

After two months of utter boredom, the new mother arrived back at work to show off her baby. Since I’ve never been the type of woman to fawn over another woman’s kid* I remained firmly behind my desk. All the other office women however scrambled towards the rugrat and cooed over it.

Female colleague: Oh your coloured baby is so dark.

Mother: Yes but it is okay. It’s a boy. Boys are allowed to be tall dark and handsome.

To me this remark sounded strange and I couldn’t help wonder if she had a dark, little girl would she love her less?

*The only kids I’m willing to dote over are my cousins and future nephews and nieces. Oh right and if I ever have my own kids, I’ll probably love them too. Probably.

Tale of dipshittery brought to you by Sid Kane

Posted in classic Sid, dipshittery on February 26th, 2010 by admin – 12 Comments

Before I start today’s tale of dipshittery there are two things that you, the reader should note:

1)      I don’t parallel park

2)      My driving skill is inversely proportional to how nervous I am. The more nervous I am the worse my driving gets.

So … yesterday, I attended the annual Maynardville Carnival. I left the house a confident woman, all strong and independent. 10 minutes later I was a nervous wreck. You see my dear darlings, when I arrived at the carnival I spent an entire 15 minutes driving up and down the exact same roads looking for parking. Eventually I managed to meander into side road only to be met by the gleaming smile of a parking attendant. He had the perfect parking spot me, right on the curb. Sounds easy enough, right? Wrong!

I jump the curb easily enough but the ass of my car is still sticking out. This starts an interesting dance of back and forth as I try to align my car just perfectly. And the longer I play this game of back and forth, the more nervous I get. Eventually the car guard decides he’d be better off directing me into this “parking space” by standing between my car and the one in front of me.

And this is the point where things go slightly awry.

“Reverse and turn your wheel this way.”

And as I try to do as instructed my car stalls, jerking forward ever so slightly and pinning the car guard between the cars.

“Ouch!”

“You’re joking right?”

Car guard shakes his head.

“Oh fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m so sorry.”

Once again I put my car in reverse. Once again I stall my car, pinning the car guard for a second.

“Fuck!”  

“Woman you’re DEFINITELY going to have to give me some money for this,” he says as he manages to wiggle free.  

Not one to argue with sound logic (and only too happy to be getting away with this without a criminal charge) I dig around my purse for some form of monetary compensation. Handing the guy a R10 note I place my index finger before my mouth and say, “Shhhhh.”

Now if this were any other person they’d be indignant at the fact that I thought a mere R10 would solve the problem, but this parking attendant … Well this parking attendant seems more than happy with our little arrangement because before I know it he’s actually hobbling around and assisting me in finding a new parking spot.

And THAT my friends, is just a typical day in the life of Sid.

GI Jane – Plan of Action

Posted in En-dee, Fahiema, classic Sid, dipshittery on October 28th, 2009 by admin – 6 Comments

(I wrote this piece 4 years ago, before the inception of this blog … Fuck it! Do you have any idea how amazed I am that I’ve with this writing thing for 4 years? Seriously, I’ve never put this much effort any anything EVER. Hell, I put in less thought and consideration into choosing my university courses.)

Okay so yesterday I started sharing one of our three-way conversations with you guys. In our conversation we were discussing the obvious lack of hot guys in our lives. En-dee!, ever the logic one pointed out that although our standards seemed high right now this could simply be a result of our lack of options. If we were to increase our options we might discover that our standards were way below par. She then went on to say, “Increase the sample number for better, more accurate results.”

To which Fahiema replied with a, “True. The thing is where do we sample? Where do we start setting up our experimental design and doing trial runs? We need some sort of game plan here.”

Me: “Hey, remember my survey plan? My plan is that we set up a fake survey and then ask hot guys we see passing by to fill them in. And while they’re answering the surveys we could hit on them.”

En-dee!: “We also need to cover a lot of ground, to get a good representative answer of the hot guy situation in Cape Town. Perhaps if we find that they may be concentrated in a certain area, we could reduce time consumption and go straight to the source, thus discovering where the prime location for foraging is. There are hot guys out there people, we need to tag em, and bag em. Sorry had to add that bit. I was having visions of us out in the field dressed in army uniforms, standing around a table with a huge plan on it, with helicopters making a noise in the background, bygones.”

Fahiema: “We might not be in the field with the helicopters and army equipment, but the situation is just as serious. It’s kind of like a state of our future security, which is important. We definitely have to cover the ground. I suspect they must be concentrated in a certain area, and it’s this area that we’re just not getting into. They certainly weren’t at university with us. Most hot guys are dumb are therefore unable to make the entrance requirements for UCT. We need to infiltrate the masses and execute a plan of action!”

Me: “Okay, that’s a very important issue that Fahiema has raised. We should ask ourselves whether the intelligence of the guy will affect our test results. Does intelligence make a guy more or less attractive to us?”

En-dee!: “More attractive. Not nerdy intelligent but someone who is capable of having a decent conversation.”

Me: “Okay, the first thing we need to do is draw up a survey. I think we should all write down a couple of questions we could like to have answered. Things like highest level of education (since intelligence is important to En-dee!) should be included in the survey. We’re also going to need a line for what the survey is going to be used for. I figure we can tell the guys we’re doing a survey on the attitudes of young men in South Africa for Men’s Health. When all that is sorted out we will need is a time and place to carry out our sampling. That leads me to my next question: when is the best time to carry out our field work. When do the hot guys come out to the watering hole, before or after sunset? Personally I think we should start our sampling at the beach. That way we get to see their bodies and their faces. And we’ll know whether or not we’re wasting out time. I also think we should start our field work early when the light is still good. That way we can accurately discern how hot the guys are. Anything after sunset has to be done where there is additional lighting, like a mall or something.”

TO BE CONTINUED

Et tu, Brute

Posted in Dizzy*, Juan, Mad Phoenix, Picture, books, classic Sid, dipshittery, movies on October 27th, 2009 by admin – 6 Comments
With regard to Mad Phoenix’s comment that I have NO self control, I’d just like to say that it’s not true …

Okay so I tend to read the last page of a book before I even finish the second chapter but that’s because I suffer from a severe medical disorder. It’s called impatience. Symptoms include:
· Inability to wait
· Getting seriously frustrated when forced to wait
· Screaming like a half-crazed harpie when stuck in traffic

Some of you might be REAL familiar with these symptoms. If so you’re a fellow sufferer. As yet there is no cure for the disease.

Anyway, I have a perfectly reasonable reason for rushing towards the end of a book. If after 2 chapters I can correctly predict the ending then the book is a complete waste of time. Books and movies should NEVER be predictable.

*

Do you guys know my former friends, Juan and Dizzy*? I’ve been nothing but good to them. I’ve inserted numerous links to their co-owned blog, sending more visitors their way than Google. Well no more! Gravy train is over biatches.

Do you guys want to know what they’ve done to displease me?

They’ve stopped inviting me to go rock climbing or join them at beer gardens. Okay, so I don’t drink and fuck alone knows I can’t stand rock climbing and I probably would have turned them down because I’m STILL busy with my thesis. But an invite would have been … nice.

If you could see me now you’d know that I was pouting. (Why is there no emotiocon to indicate a pout??? Or is there one, and I just wasn’t paying attention in CEM100? That is what you learn in first year chemistry, right? The bigger mystery is why I even did chemistry in university.)

Juan and Dizzy*, you’re so not invited to my birthday party. And it’s going to be an awesome birthday party. There will be a jumping castle, laughter AND people who appreciate me.

*

How awesome aren’t I? 15 shades of awesome, that’s how!


Anyway, I’m not sure how many of you have watched “Dan, in Real Life”. In the movie the female lead is introduced to his family and there’s this scene where she sits around a table and entertains her future in-laws with tales of her adventures. That’s exactly the type of chick I want to be. One day, one day, I hope to not only have a fiancé but be able to blow his family away with kickass stories.

Ghana is a REAL country

Posted in Dizzy*, Mad Phoenix, Sarika, dipshittery, web developer, white zimbabwean on October 26th, 2009 by admin – 11 Comments
Me: Sarika, you know you just sent me a job advert to work with KIDS for FREE in GHANA. You know that’s something I’d never be interested in applying for, right?
Sarika: Sid, where’s your sense of altruism? Little kids need sarcasm too.

Anyway I was relating the above tale to Mad Phoenix and was using my fingers to create air quotes for the words job and Ghana. After Mad Phoenix raised a quizzical eyebrow upon my decision to wrap Ghana in air quotes, I had to relent that, “Yes, Ghana is a REAL country.”

*
Web developer: Interesting poncho.
White Zimbabwean: Yeah, I know. I left my jersey is Don’s car.
Naturally I couldn’t stop myself from chirping up: That’s what happens when you climb into the backseat of a car with boys.
White Zimbabwean: Bet you’d know all about that.
That pretty much shut me up.

*
Dizzy* has found the perfect way to torture me. By simply mentioning the words “I have a surprise for you” she sends me in a complete frenzy. Within 30 minutes her mailbox is inundated with emails speculating at the surprises. Guesses range from the ridiculous (“You’re pregnant and would like me to be the Godmother to your child?”) to the mundane (“Juan finally gave you my Coupling DVDs?”).

Anna Karenina, wardrobe malfunction and continued dipshittery – Part II

Posted in dipshittery on March 2nd, 2009 by admin – 6 Comments
Before I start today’s tale let me just say that I absolutely love Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy. There are very few books that I have managed to capture my heart within the first sentence. “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” I can’t tell you how much delight I derive with each turn of the page. To download a free copy of the book, click here.

Okay so a few days ago I began a tale which I belief delighted and amused you to no end. I believe that tears of joy were shed at the mentioning of yet another wardrobe malfunction. I think that since the inception of this blog I have already written about two such cases and that’s not even including that time I voluntarily flashed my friends in a club. What? I had a pretty neon bra on and felt that everyone deserved the opportunity to see it. I’m just a really charitable soul.

Anyway, so I accidentally flashed a prepubescent boy my puppies, yet there was more humiliation to come. You see after En-dee! and I were done boogie boarding we decided to sit on the beach and perv over my 20 year old neighbour. After it became blatantly apparent to us that he would not be taking it all off we decided to make our way to our cars.

Now this is where I should probably mention that it was an extremely windy day and that I probably should have been holding on more tightly to my board. But I didn’t and therefore no one could honestly be surprised by what happened next.

While walking to my car a wind whipped the board out of my hands and into the face of a woman. Now I think that there’s absolutely no need for me to describe either the sound the board made as it whooshed through the air and bitch slapped that woman, or the loud howling noise three coloured boys made as they witnessed the before mentioned event, because right now I bet you cringing in your seat. Worse than all of this however was En-dee!’s reaction to the whole thing. The biatch just stood there, covering her mouth with her towel, trying her utmost not to laugh. I would have appreciated some loyalty here!

Navigating my through a shopping mall is hard enough

Posted in classic Sid, dipshittery, reality on December 6th, 2008 by admin – 8 Comments
I woke up from such a lovely dream (not that kind of dream) this morning about Hottie McNaughty. As you can tell I don’t actually know Hottie McNaughty’s real name.

Hottie McNaughty is this guy I keep running into at all these really big parties. I had first laid eyes at him on the night before I left for Italy. My friends and I were at the Cape Town International Convention Centre’s tenth year anniversary. I had mistaken him for my sister’s ex-boyfriend and had given him this big ole how you doing grin.

Me: “Hey, look it’s your ex-boyfriend.”
Sister: “What, the guy with the blue eyes? Erm, no. That guy’s hot!”

Anyway, there’s not much else to report on the Hottie McNaughty situation – other than the fact that he’s really, really tall. The guy actually has to stoop down to whisper sweet nothings into my ears. And I’m 1.71m mofos.

Okay let’s see what do I have for you guys today? How about the shopping mall incident?

I’m one of those people who don’t like to be cooped up. I will go anywhere with anyone just to avoid sitting at home. So a few months ago (almost a year I think) when I my parents informed me that they were going to the shopping mall to buy some groceries I jumped at the opportunity to join then.

Upon reaching Pick ‘n Pay (think Walmart, my American fans) we immediately split up. I was on a mission of deadly importance. I needed to track down my specific shower gel, the one that makes me smell like happiness. After accruing all my toiletries I did what anyone who has been giving a lift to a shopping mall would do, I searched for my lifts. Up and down the aisles I search for momma and poppa but they are nowhere to be found. I try calling them. They have yet again left those useful little devices us kids call mobiles, at home. No problem right? I have money. I’ll just pay for my purchases and then head over to the car. So I find myself a checkout line and wait my turn. It’s only as I wait that I realise that I have no idea where we parked. As usual I have not paid attention to my surroundings. I just walked and hoped that someone else would take responsibility for the minor details.

Panic starts to well up; the type of panic that has you hyperventilating. There are a million ideas rushing through my mind but none of them seems an appropriate solution to my problem. It’s just then that I hear a voice over the intercom, calling out my name. Apparently my parents are waiting for me at the front desk.

Yip, just another typical moment of dipshittery by yours truly.

Anyway, hopefully by the end of this week I’ll get round to telling you about the collectively dipshittery that took place in the CTICC parking lot.

Don’t forget

Posted in ME, Picture, dipshittery, invites, love on December 3rd, 2008 by admin – 4 Comments

It’s my birthday on the 8th of December. Don’t forget to wish me (and tell me how pretty I am) on the day . Of course I will post constant reminders about the day my mom ejected me from her vagina. Or you can write a lovely post all about me, me and ME.