Verbal Diarrhoea

Busy. Always …

Quote from the movie, “Invention of Lying”.

Jennifer: No. But I enjoy the end result of the job which is money. And the hours are pretty good for the amount of money I make, which I spend on things I like, such as clothes, hiking, drinking – even though I know it’s bad for me. (PAUSE) But I’d rather just get all the money and not work for the results.

This is the quote that popped into my head as I thought of travel destinations. Right now the list of cities/countries that I’d like to explore has grown exponentially.

The original desire to explore one city/country in each continent BEFORE revisiting a continent has waned. I guess I’d always assumed that I’d only ever have money to travel to five destinations and that I’d better make those good choices. But with two promotions in as many years, there is no pressing need. There’s suddenly this belief that there’ll always be time … there’ll always be money.

(Of course there’s also the fear that I’ll spend so much time vacillating over a destination that I’ll never travel).

After seeing this picture I’m currently in love with Amsterdam. More pictures of awesome European destinations available HERE.

*You can find the script for the Invention of Lying here. And yes, occasionally I read the sections of TV/movie scripts even AFTER I’ve already watched the movie.  Sometimes the dialogue is just too good not to indulge.

I’m busy updating our spatial biodiversity DVD. This requires some knowledge of Javascript and programming. (Turns out this shit is easy to figure out). Anyway, while furiously tapping away at my keyboard, I somehow managed to get distracted by Stella McCartney’s designs for Adidas.  Can you imagine golfing in this?

Or running a marathon in this?

The daily journey to work should have taken me no longer than ten minutes. But I’d left the house late and now I found myself sitting in traffic.

Sitting there, hands clenching the steering wheel, lips chapped and attempting to sing along to The Postal Service, I noticed her running by. And instantly I hated her. I hated her and everything she represented. I hated her freedom. I hated the fact that it was nearly 8 in the morning and she wasn’t rushing off to an office with fluorescent lighting. Her fingers would not be gliding effortlessly across a keyboard, in an effort to update the latest database. I hated the fact that she had the luxury of spending her mornings exercising, her legs pounding away rhythmically. I imagined experiencing the exertion of my lungs, the cold air on my face and I hated her. I hated her pert ass and blonde ponytail swinging to and fro.

And as sat there thinking up a list of imaginary wrongs incurred by the young woman, I had what others would refer to as an “epiphany”. I realized that a few months ago my opinion of the woman would have been different. I would have looked at her in complete and utter awe. I would have admired her willpower. The discipline that it took to wake up at the crack of dawn and run anything further than a block, was beyond my comprehension. And this feeling of awe would soon be followed by one of dejection. I’d never be capable of any of this.

And now … Now all those things I’ve admired in other runners; all those things that I always I assumed I was incapable of doing, are easy. I’ve finally reached a place where I can run 8km comfortably. I’ve finally reached a place where running is actually enjoyable. I’ve finally reached the point where I can bite down and tell myself, “You’re not done yet. Dig deep. Find your inner strength.”

And as this realization hit me, I couldn’t help but smile.

As if there isn’t enough embarassing information of me out there on the interwebs, I bring you photos.

Ignore the fact that I’m wearing takkies to a party and that my fat stomach is showing. The bigger question is what am I doing and why? And if you thought THIS is bad, you should see me at En-dee!’s wedding.

This chick in front, with the grey T-shirt, is one of the coolest chick ever. How can I not love a girl who tries to embody the spirit of Britney Spears on the dancefloor?

Watching soccer.

EDIT: Just got the following gchat message from Dizzy.

Dizzy*: Your blog post today … I laughed so hard and it reminded me of the following pic …

A month or two ago, Barry and I attended a farewell party for his American friend.

The setting for the party was one of the most palatial houses I’ve ever been to. Seriously! With the house situated on the mountain and overlooking the ocean, the view was spectacular. And if this wasn’t enough the house contained a pool, two huge TVs (at least) and a projector. The whole time I was there I couldn’t help thinking, “Is this, what American dollars gets you?”

At some point during the party, someone brought out an American board game. The name of the board game escapes me, but I do remember that it was similar to 30 Seconds in that each person had to describe a term on a card and his/her team members had to guess the word.

Me: It’s something that you blow up. You can use your mouth or …

American man: Inflatable mattress?

Another American man: Penis?

Me: Erm … inflatable mattress is correct …

Looking back at the whole thing, maybe I shouldn’t have said, “You can use your mouth”.

 Zooey Deschanel & M. Ward from the band She & Him. Some of you might recognise her from the movie 500 Days of Summer (awesome movie).

Anyway, I’ve been spending an inordinate amount of time “reading” through the archives of THIS blog (Dance to the Radio). It’s a music blog, with Liz providing readers with free downloads to Monday Mixtapes. Since Liz is a huge fan of the following bands: No Doubt, Florence and the Machine, Phoenix, Jimmy Eat World and Feist, I’m sure to enjoy any artists/bands that she introduces me to.  

*

So yeah, something weird/embarrassing/comical happened yesterday but before I give you the nitty gritty details on my latest moment of dipshittery, let me give you the back story.

A few weeks ago I went on a date. Yes, *shock, shudder, gasp* an actual man wanted spend time with me and I DIDN’T share all the intimate details with you. I know, you’re absolutely hurt by my lack of trust in you but honestly I’m never going to be THAT girl. I’m never going to the girl repeats every cute little conversation had; I’m never going to be the girl who describes how his smile sets my heart a flutter; or how 15 minutes after meeting him you were already creating a mental inventory of all the people you’ll invite to your wedding. In my head I’d like to be that girl but I’m afraid that by splattering my potential relationship status and happiness all over the web I will inevitably jinx it. Plus there’s that whole “Oh Shit” factor when things don’t work out. I just can’t (won’t allow myself to?) publish intimate details of all my hopes and dreams only to look back 6 months later and state to a bunch of strangers that I was a complete idiot for trusting him.   

Anyway, the guy was perfect on paper … Good looking, employed, Muslim, blah blah blah.

And as we all know, perfect on paper is one thing. Making me laugh so hard I have trouble breathing, is a completely different thing. So when he didn’t call me immediately I wasn’t too crushed and deleted his number.

Let’s flash forward to last night. Imagine a girl wearing absolutely no make-up and dressed in track pants,* searching the aisles of Pick ‘n Pay (a local grocery store) for essentials (read: chocolate). Now imagine if you will, this girl spotting the guy. Now what would the normal response to this situation be? Oh wait, that’s right, this girl isn’t normal. So when the girl spots the guy instead of saying hello, she ducks left so fast you’d think she’d spent her formative years learning kung fu from Buddhist monks. Not only does this girl avoid speaking to the guy, but she also leaves behind all her groceries and hightails it right out of there.

Who does THAT??? Hell, I can’t even believe I did that! I keep replaying the incident in my head and thinking, “What the fuck?”

*Note: I was only wearing track pants because I was planning to run 6km immediately after doing some shopping.

Yesterday I went to bed at around 5:30 and didn’t wake up until 6:45 this morning. That’s more than 12 hours sleep. Hell, I didn’t even get to eat supper. I got home, ate a handful of Cheerios and then went to bed.

Anyway, by now you’ve probably all heard that Paris Hilton was arrested for allegedly smoking pot in Port Elizabeth. Not to left an opportunity to mock a celebrity go by, Nandos came up with THIS brilliant ad:

And in other awesome things I’ve discovered:

• THIS blog allows readers to freely download mixed tapes created by the blogger himself and his friend, Liz. Some of the songs on offer are Sunny Afternoon by The Kinks, Cap Cod Kwassa Kwassa by Vampire Weekend and Lasso by Phoenix.
• And then there’s Peter Callesen, a Danish contemporary artists. Peter has this amazing talent of turning boring, flat pieces of A4 paper into stunning 3D installations. Here’s an example of some of his work.

This is called “In the Shadow of an Orchid”, 2005.

Found anything interesting on the web lately?

Fifty imaginary points if you can correctly identify this building.

*

It was her eyes that drew my attention. There was nothing spectacular about them. It wasn’t their shape or colour that startled me but rather their vacant expression – as if they’d seen it all and nothing would surprise her.

Drug addict!

Even to my ears the words sounded harsh and final. Those two words, that simple, singular thought, expressed something about me that I couldn’t quite accept. I’d judged her and written her off as a worthless fraction of society. Determined to change my impression of her, I scrutinized her. If she noticed my staring, she didn’t show it.

Maybe she’s just tired? Look, she has bags under her eyes. Her clothes are clean and there are no smudges of dirt on her face.  

Quickly my eyes darted to her arms in search of needle tracks or better yet, a collapsed vein. The long sleeved jacket she was wearing and the fact that I hadn’t been blessed with x-ray vision prevented me from getting a good look at her arms. Not willing to give up at playing Columbo just yet, I tried to look at her groceries. She didn’t have any but I watched the guy standing beside her, the guy I assumed was her boyfriend, slowly sign a cash slip and handing her a packet of Pampers.

See? She just had a baby. She’s probably had countless sleepless nights. She’s not a drug addict. She’s just tired. Her boyfriend doesn’t really look like her type though. He just looks too … vibrant.              

Once they’d left, I looked over at my friend and asked, “Did you notice the girl standing in front of you at the checkout till?”

“The one with the brown jacket?”

I was taken aback by his reply. Of all the things I’d noted, the colour of her jacket wasn’t one of them.

“I don’t know. Blonde hair. Was there something weird about her?”

“Drug addict. I’ve seen her before. She asks people to buy her things – baby food, porridge,* nappies** … and then she returns the items for cash.”

 * Porridge – cereal.  

**Nappies – I think Americans refer to them as diapers.

The following photographs taken by Gottography are currently doing the email rounds. These photpgraphs are of Cape Town’s very own version of the “London Eye”. The Big Wheel is situated at the V&A Waterfront and is open to the public on Wednesday, 09 June 2010. Prices for the a ticket are R70. To find out more on the big wheel, click here.

I don’t feel like entertaining the masses today so I thought I’d participate in Where in the World Wednesday. What’s that? It’s not Wednesday? Yeah, well I’m uploading pictures of Venice either way, so suck it up Sherlock.

To participate in WITWW all you need to do is upload some pics, upload the WITWW button and post a comment on Classy in Philadelphia stating that you’ve decided to participate.   

I loved the look and feel of the old buildings.

I was completely amazed at the size of the seafood in Venice. Click on photo to enlarge.

Sitting on the banks of the river (?) I watched the sun set. Personally I think Venice has Paris beat when it comes to being the most romantic city.

I actually met the funniest Canadian chicks while sitting on the river banks. We just sat there talking and laughing for hours. The one taught be about Indian history and the war for independence and the other talked about her Irish grandmother. It was one of my all time favourite moments in Italy.   

Play ground – so different to the ones I see in Cape Town everyday.