Men and apples

I have just been whinging in the office about the lads that sit opposite me and eat apples. Men eating apples just doesn't seem right.  And these are young men, not old ones that are being forced to do so for the sake of their colons or something.  AND one of them is a rock star while the other makes movies - surely they are supposed to be delving into their drawer for the hip flask containing Jack Daniels?  So I told them that in 10 years time it will be proven that apples give you cancer and that McDonalds was the way to go all along. Whilst delving into my drawer for my hip flask. 

But the apple thing reminded me of a conversation that was had with the Lesbian Friends the other night. According to the one, men treat women like a monkey treats an apple.  He takes an apple off the tree and takes a bite out of it.  If he doesn't like it, he tosses it and gets another one.  Women, however, will take a bite and if it's not quite right we will try polish it. We take another bite and if that still doesn't taste quite right but we still kinda enjoy the apple we will carry on trying to perfect it. And therein lies the lesson.  Women need to stop trying to perfect the apple. If it ain't a good one, just toss it and get another one.

Simple eh?  I'm gonna give this a try.  And make a note on my Man List that I don't want any more monkeys.

The man list...

I got thrown an interesting question by Brainy Friend on the weekend.  “What do you look for in a man?”   This question came after an equally uncomfortable “How long have you been single”.  I couldn’t come up with an answer. Not a single smidgen of ideas on what I thought I would want in a man.  I think I was still trying to work out how long I had been single for and was starting to feel sorry for myself.  So I just gulped and felt stupid.

Let’s face it, I barely manage to make a shopping list, let alone a man wanted list. Which upon reflection, is probably why I haven’t  found one yet.  OK, I have met plenty, but they either start boring me or just want to be friends or turn out to be lunatics with commitment issues.

After a bit of prodding and suggestions from Brainy Friend (who incidentally is a man, which makes it even more sad that he came up with some pointers before me) we came up with a few “must haves”.  I have since spoken to others about this and it seems that this “list” is actually very important!  You have to “put it out there” apparently. What happened to the good old days where you met a guy, thought he was fab, he constantly fantasised about what you would look like naked and you ended up getting together until either party got tired of the other one or the sex got boring?  Why does it now have to start with a list?

Finally, talking of how we have complicated things (like making “man wanted lists”)  read the latest blog from  The Monster From The Blog on how we are Facebooking and blogging ourselves to death – and making people feel uncomfortable with our dirty laundry. Will give you something to think about, while I start on my list…

Pear-shaped pay day weekends

It seems the weekend was quite an eventful one for everyone.  Whilst I lost a night’s sleep somewhere the following went down…

1. A workmate left our usual Friday night drinks session, went home and fell down the stairs. She now has stitches in her head and a damaged coxis – and is walking like Frankenstein.
2. Goth Friend had 3 glasses of champagne, totaled her car and spent Friday night in jail.  She is about to sue the police for her bad treatment (it was bad) and is hoping like hell that insurance pays out.  It’s the company that promises you ALWAYS get something out so hopefully they mean it. 
3. Party Partner got kicked out of a club we were at after having a bit of a showdown with somebody who apparently works for ETV.  There were no cameras present (pity) but we are still trying to figure out if the bouncers really were talking to management through their mouthpieces or if that was just a headset from a non-existent mobile phone. Looked impressive though.
4. The Springboks lost the rugby.  Which was pitiful.  Especially as (a) they were playing Australia for God’s sake and (b) I was supporting them for that match.  I have decided that whilst I may have had a few loser men along the way, I will be damned if I am going to support a losing team.  They had their chance and blew it.  Just like the men.

As for me … I almost outdid myself.  Payday Friday is always going to be a rocker and it was.  Reality set in on Saturday morning when the maid arrived at the door.  After 2 hours sleep she looked as shocked to see me as I did her.


After getting poofta woofta off to the parlour, I spent most of the morning at the tyre place getting two new tyres.  In that time I managed to drink a steri stumpi, swallow 4 headache tablets and send smses to find out if everyone else felt like they had an octopus stuck to their head trying to suck out their brain.

Then it was the rugby where I consoled myself by eating a pizza that set my mouth on fire and had me reeking of garlic for the rest of the weekend. 2 beers and an afternoon nap set me straight and it was off to Decodance with Party Partner for a friend’s birthday party.  Turns out there were so many damn birthday parties that night that the requests for bad songs just kept coming.  Not one to be outdone I requested a song and they played it after shouting over the microphone “This song is for Tequila Tart and it’s not even her bloody birthday” .  I rule ...

7 days = a week = lots of stuff to talk about

This blogging stuff is hard work!  Apparently I am supposed to update it every day.  So that’s another thing to remember to do – and for someone with a small brain this is going to be tough. I can barely remember my name half the time!  And now as punishment for being slack I am going to have to remember what the hell happened over the past few days.  Er, week.  7 days…  yikes!

So I have loaded them all separately – then it looks good.  Just pretend my computer died or the internet went down or something.  After all, it is going to crash.  The internet, not the computer.  Although that is likely too.  And now I am waffling.  But seriously … the internet is going to crash.  Probably in 2012.  Then we can all go grow vegetables and take up yoga.  Because we going to run out of food too. But that’s a whole different story .

And talking of stories, I am off to hear a really interesting one tonight.  I might be a changed person tomorrow…

Free meal Sunday

Sunday, unlike Saturday, did not start off well.  Took one of my dogs to an adoption day and left in tears.  Despite the fact that the little bastard had systematically destroyed my home and my sanity, used my poofta-woofta as furry chew toy and ate poo on my bed on a regular basis, I realized that I was quite fond of him.  So leaving him there broke my heart.  It didn’t help that they told me he cried for the whole day.  So there’s my punishment for telling Sick Friend that her hair looked like matted poodle.  Karma will get you.

The evening however was much better – stunning dinner at friends down the road.  Plus a few beers and a box of fags which were needed after my traumatic morning.  They, also knowing about my broke status, gave me more food!!  I could seriously start getting used to this.  So not only did I go home with a bulging stomach, I had food for the fridge too. My friends rock!

And now when someone comes over I can offer them chicken or beef.  In an air hostess outfit…

Beer shandy’s , bad hairdo’s and half naked vampires

Saturday morning started fabulously.  Men in the house, beer shandy’s and breakfast. It doesn’t get much better than that.  Really.  Plus my rugby team won!  Except I couldn’t really cheer as said men are all bok supporters.  So I had to sit on the couch with my mouth shut every time they scored a try in case I got a plate thrown at me.  Apparently shouting instructions at the Springboks doesn’t help them win – probably because they can’t hear you. But a silent victory on my behalf was had.

Visited Sick Friend who had not had such a good day.  The morphine was gone (gasp!) and they made her walk.  I added to her day by telling her that her hair looked like a matted poodle.

Saturday night was spent eating Thai curry and watching Vampire Diaries with Goth Friend. A wonderful girly night eating hot food and perving over hot men.  Make that hot man.  Damon is welcome to come scratching at my window any time. Good God, can one man be so damn good looking, have a perfect body and a perfect smirk?  Yoh … I wasn’t sure if it was the curry making me sweat or the eye candy on the telly.  Sad really, considering both of us are single and should be out on a Saturday night looking for men.  But let’s face it, men like that cannot possibly exist in real life.  Much like vampires …

Fantastic Friday

Friday was one of my least productive days in the office to date. Who works on a Friday anyway? I think I spent most of it admiring my blog and checking up to see who had signed up and what rude comments were made.  10 followers and 3 comments is a fairly good start me thinks.  “High Five” as my Goth Friend would say.

Free drinks on a Friday is always a winner.  How else are you going give your Friday night the kick-start it needs?  I think if our company ever stopped drinks on a Friday there would be mutiny.

Except my kick-start this Friday ended up with me leaving after 8pm.  I popped by the hospital to check on Sick Friend and we had the best conversation ever – she was zonked on morphine and I was slightly pissed.

Sugar highs and chocolate hangovers

So I went off to the hospital on the Thursday and was shamefully defeated in trying to siphon any drugs from my friend’s drip. Too many wires, pipes and beeping things. The beeping thing might have been the friend bed telling me to shut up whilst I went on about how lucky she was to be having such a cool time on morphine.  Noticeably the nurse never left the vicinity of the bed. 

Then it was off to Rehab Boy for dinner.  Arrived at the same time as New Dad, which was lucky otherwise I probably wouldn’t have found the flat. Directions are not a strong point.  New Dad was on the phone at the time telling Wine Farmer that bringing a bottle of his own wine would not be good advertising at this point.  I agreed, but now disagree. 

By the end of the evening I had finished an entire litre of coke and half a chocolate slab.  When I got home I felt like the Duracell bunny. And felt slightly crap the next day.  Which goes to prove that too much sugar is just as bad, if not worse, as too much booze. 

But dinner was good (I have only seen Rehab Boy at bars, never realized he could actually put a meal together) and I scored a pack of chicken breasts, some cheese, a CD and two books.  Being broke has its benefits.  Oh, and I learnt a new game … Rummycup or something.  Lots of numbers involved.  Which is probably why I ate too much chocolate, the concentration was killing me.   And the fact that for some reason I really wanted a drink.

You really should start a blog they said...

... so here it is. The beginnings of many tales about my chaotic life, my insane (but fantastic) friends, my lunatic menagerie, my long-suffering colleagues and my gradual rise to stardom.

Not to mention bar brawls, attempts at stage diving, roadtripping in a seriously unroadworthy car and upsetting the neighbours.

Some topics likely to be covered at length are:

• why having a hangover in winter is better than in summer
• why going to a nightclub with a crash helmet is sometimes a good idea
• ways to get away with arriving late at work on a constant basis
  
• how to drive when your cat has escaped from the cat basket and is clutching the steering wheel
• how a can of baked beans can, in fact, last a week
• how to find your tent in the dark without a torch at an outdoor festival
  
• why hiding dirty dishes in the oven when the landlady visits is not a good idea
• how to remove soil from your bed when your puppy decides to bring the garden indoors
• finding your way to the nearest party without GPS
• what every bachelorette's fridge should contain
  
• how to successfully gatecrash a party
• how to tweet, have a shot and a cigarette all at the same time
  
• why tequila is in fact, good for you
  
  

... as well as all sorts of other silly, but apparently amusing, stuff.

In this process I am likely to lose my friends, my job and any time I thought I had to myself. And possibly disowned by my family. But perhaps I will manage to get some money from advertising, food vouchers and free drinks from barmen across the country. In no particular order of priority.

Goody, almost time to go home. Going to visit my friend in hospital and try figure out how to siphon the morphine from her drip without getting caught by the nursing staff. After that I am off to dinner being held by a previous party partner who has just got out of rehab. Go figure ...