Verbal Diarrhoea

I, Sid Kane, the girl whose OWN mother doesn’t trust her to make the salad, volunteered to bake a cake. It is well known that my culinary skills leave much to be desired.

Take for instance the following interaction:

Me: Is that garlic sitting on MFH desk?

Boys in the lab: Erm … that’s ginger ….

And yes, sure I recently made Fettuccine for my friends. And yeah, sure they complimented my pasta, but my friends are the type of people who would tell a white lie in order to spare your feelings. *Bastards*

Anyway, the baking endeavour will take place on Saturday. Reviews and pictures to follow on Monday. (Or at least I hope to have some hilarious pics to share with you guys.)

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On Saturday, 25th of September 2010, Fahiema, Cougar and I will be going shark cage diving. Woohoo! There will be pictures, there will be stories and there will be lots of freaking out.

Thanks to Cougar for making this happen.

I realize now that writing my number with the words “For a good time call Sid”, in an attempt to get a boyfriend, was not the brightest idea. In fact it ranks right up there with the incidence of 1997, where I ground up laxatives into a can of coke and offered it to a classmate. High school: where your parents are under the misguided impressed that you’re just learning about academically relevant topics.

Anyway, yesterday I found the following text message on my phone: “Hi. I came across yr number on my phn bt iv no clue who u r.”

Now most people would have provided the interrogator with a simple explanation of who they are. I of course am not most people. As Michelle Branch so wisely sung, “I’m a little left of centre, I’m a little out of tune, Some say I’m paranormal, So I just bend their spoon, Who wants to be ordinary.” So I took the question and decided to use it to reflect on who I really am? Would I describe myself by the work I do? Is my job really a good reflection of who I am? Yeah, sure I spend 8 hours of my day here, but can I really say that I am my job? Do I state that I’m a surfer with a possible coffee addiction? Do I tell him about all my hopes and dreams?  

Ten minutes later, I decided I was a Meredith Brooks’ song and quoted the lyrics Bitch. Thirty minutes later and he came back with a similar reply (I’m guessing he didn’t recognize the “angry woman” anthem).

Anyway, here’s part of his reply, “Can’t remember who u r but can sense that you have gd karma. Stay as u r.”

And that ladies and gentlemen, was the highlight of my day.       

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Anyway, my bucket list is over at Brazen’s. You should check it out.

My friend Dizzy*, who until recently has never left South Africa’s shores, was recently posted to Dubai on a reconnaissance mission. Dizzy* who was raised to believe in Jesus Christ, was sent to a predominately Muslim country during the month of Ramadaan. Read: The poor girl is forbidden to eat or drink anything in public from sunrise to sunset, in a country where the average temperature is 40 degree Celsius.

According to her recent gchat status she hasn’t eaten solid food in over a week. And by solid food she means bacon.

Of course, Dizzy* is a trooper and wouldn’t allow something as trivial as dietary restrictions halt her from having fun and she sent us a number of superb pictures.

Picture of pretty lamp taken by Dizzy*.

Anyway, before the girl left she had a going away dinner. At the little soiree one of the topics of conversation was sexual harassment, of course.

L: So the gay guy decided to offer his “services” to the straight guy.

Dizzy*: Who in their right mind sends nude pictures of themselves to the IT guy?

Me: Wait. What? You didn’t mention any nude pictures. You just said he offered his “services”.

Dizzy*: Of course there were nude pictures!

L: Erm, no. There weren’t any nude pictures.

Dizzy*: Hmmm, I wonder why I just assumed there were nude pictures?

Me: Because that’s how you offer your “services” …

The self confessed music aficionado: Yeah, I also assumed there were nude pictures. I mean how else are you to offer your “services”? Do you use a different font? Is Comic Sans flirtier than Arial? Do you use a size 12 font instead of 11?

The Cougar: It’s all in the dot dot dot …

For those of you who aren’t aware of who the MFH is, here’s the back story:

We met five years ago. It was NOT love at first sight. He’d whisked into the office and I in my usual chevalier fashion dismissed him, as just another white boy. Five minutes later and I was selecting the names for our future progeny. I’m nothing if not a dreamer.   

This one sided love affair only intensified when he said those 6 magic words, “I want to write a book.” Insert the lyrics to Dave Matthews Band’s, You and Me.

Anyway, if the Oracle had presented me with this opportunity 4 years ago I’d have jumped at the opportunity to put the moves on MFH. Now that I’m older and wiser (and inherently afraid of being slapped with a sexual harassment suit), I know that I have absolutely no moves to speak of.

No but seriously. Even though our relationship has now evolved from silent adoration (from my side) to constant taunts and hair pulling (from his side)*, I know that no amount of prayer or cleavage will change the status quo from colleague to girlfriend.

*Here’s an example of the type of “conversations” that MFH and I indulge in.

Me noticing him munching on a piece of ginger: Are you really going to eat that piece of ginger just like that.

Him: No.

Ten seconds of silence pass before he eventually states, “You ask a lot of stupid questions.”

Yep, ladies and gentlemen, THAT’S what I find attractive. Those of you who are planning on setting me up on blind dates should please take note.

Whenever I have a nightmare (which is often enough) and I want to tell someone about it, I’m reminded of the following quote in Sue Townsend’s latest novel, Adrian Mole: The Prostate Years.

Adrian Mole’s wife to him, “When we first married, we made a promise that we would never talk about our dreams. I expect you to honour that agreement.”

Anyway, I was planning to on writing a book review on the novel but realised that I have nothing to say other than, “I loved this book. You should buy it. These are my favourite lines from the book.” What? I’m just not that great at heaping praise on things I love. I’m way better at finding and articulating what I think are imperfections.

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And in other things that made me smile:

• Barry’s recent gchat status: Twilight – The story of a young woman’s choice to practice either bestiality or necrophilia.
• In a wonderful effort to mock Rupert Murdoch’s claim that he owns the “Sky” in “Skype”, Kulula came up with this brilliant advertising campaign.  

Isn’t this just the cutest puppy ever? Seriously? You have no idea how happy this picture made me.

You can find more adorable pics of puppies at The Daily Puppy.

In this month’s Runner’s World there were three articles that attracted my attention: Marathon Des Sables, It’s About Time and Human Race.

According to the contents page Human Race is about a teen who “defies epilepsy and dramatically improves his health through running.” According to the article Jaundré (our teen hero in this tale) used to suffer up to 14 epileptic fits a day, “despite heavy doses of anti-convulsive medication”. Since taking up running, he can go weeks without experiencing a seizure. “At most he has four seizures over a period of three months”.

Enter a heavy dose of cynicism from my side. I won’t deny that there are health benefits to exercise; I just need a little more than the anecdotal evidence of parents to believe that running decreases the number of seizures to such a degree. I want the opinion of five qualified medical doctors. I want to know if his diet has changed in anyway. I want to know if he’s switched drugs. I want bar graphs!  

Anyway, at least the parents aren’t advocating that others swap epileptic drugs for exercise. That my friends, smells a little too much like a certain Scientologist mocking a celebrity for “indulging” in anti-depressants. Postnatal depression is real, you fucktard!

What did however impress me about Jaundré Niemandt was the fact that he managed to complete a 10km race in 68 minutes. 68 minutes! Do you know how incredible that is? Seriously? Do you have any idea how hard I have to push myself in order to beat a time like that? Do you have any idea how many pep talks I have to give myself? It takes a lot of mental energy to force myself to continue at such a speed and here’s this boy who needs two people to hold his hands while running, and his kicking my ass. If that’s not inspiring, I’m not sure what is.

Overheard in Cape Town

Friend 1: I can’t wait for the weekend. Some R&R is definitely needed.

Friend 2: What’s R&R? Rohypnol and rape?

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I’m not sure how many of you have received the memo but today’s Friday. And in my world that means looking fabulous and goofing off with my colleagues.

Wanting to appear ultra feminine this morning, I settled on a cute, floral dress. Or at least I thought the dress was cute, until a few months ago when a female colleague commented on my appearance. If memory serves me correctly, I think her exact words were, “Holy crap! Are you boobs real? What does your boss say about you walking around like this?” (He says nothing. It seems that women are the only ones who have something to say.)  

Not wanting a reoccurrence of snide comments, I decided to tame down the sexy and add a camisole and pair of tights beneath the dress (and a jersey above, just for good measure.) Upon noticing my “I not here to be leered at, I’m an educated woman” approach to dressing, Fahiema couldn’t help but ask, “Feeling a little self-conscious after Lilly’s remark?”        

Anyway … so far today’s been good with my colleagues serving up delicious cakes and witty banter.

Me: Halle Berry is in Cape Town for a movie shoot.

Web Developer, who’s gay: Now THAT’S one woman who’s worth batting for the other team for.

Anyway … hope you guys enjoy the long weekend.

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.