Sandy does not equal surfing.

Yes, Americans of the east, please do not use this hurricane as an opportunity to catch some big surf. There was actually a warning on one of the weather channels urging peeps not to try and catch a wave in these weather conditions. I kid you not.

But then, in America. anything is possible – as long as it is bigger and better.

Doing the channel flick – quite exciting to see which TV presenter is bolder and more balls to the wall – who can stand the rain, who is wearing the coolest storm gear and who will be washed out to sea first, as they teeter off some fragile-looking pier.


Green eggs and Spam.

“This product is really amazing, fits your mind nicely, comfortable, it doesn’t provide headache since the device squeezes your mind too tight.”

This little gem popped up in my spam queue. Talk about ‘Eloquently Wasted!’

10 000 Cupcake sprinkles to the first one who guesses what product was being punted ..

Is it:

1) A mind-altering drug;

2) Headache tablets;

3) A wig;

4) An Aerobics sweatband (think ‘Fame’);

5) A swimming cap;

6) A condom;

7) An eight-year-old’s Alice band;

8) sunglasses or bi-focals;

9) A turkey – with all the trimmings;

10) A mullet (from Boksburg or Virginia – depending on what side of the pond you stay…);

11) One of those fishing headlight thingies;

12) A beret (Juju – or Querva-style, once again depending on which side of the pond you stay…);

13) A bridal veil or Burka (once again … the whole pond thing …);

14) Rambo’s red headband;

15) A Princess crown from Toddlers ‘n Tiara’s;

16) A pet Boa constrictor;

17) Your underpants – depending on your age and sobrierty;

18) Anti inflammatories;

19) Hello Kitty hairclips; or ….

20) Headphones. (Hint, hint.)

Ah, the mystery and promiscuity of the Engrish tongue.



One Award down … hundreds to go.

Received a delightful little notice in my mailbox just now.

It reads as follows: “Congratulations! We loved your great and yummy posts, so we’ve decided to give you a Grade 4 BlOgcean Award! If you want to know more about your award or nominate someone else, then visit:
Our aim is to spread the love of Blogging and encourage achieving Bloggers to do their best, so keep up the brill work!

(I just hope that there is some merit to this, and that I did not just get it because I went onto their site and pleaded and begged. I may also be guilty of some zealous re-blogging….)

You decide ….


If, between all the insanity, profanity and baking that is … you find a little something to smile about, please give me a nod at
I will be the first to admit that I need the boost right now, or at the very least, a Franschoek Fantasy.

I am the champion … right till the end!!!

3008 hits.

Thank God. Have recently consumed my Zolpidom with my Chardonnay, and am ready to retire for the evening.

S, stop making the kids’ school lunches and draw my bath. I command you! (I think he was hit no. 3001, after I forced him to log on and hit me, one more time. Yes, I am really that shallow, goal-orientated and materialistic.)

For a later post: I have a bone to pick with WordPress. They are running ads on my blog. (I spied this via S’s hit on my blog … the buggers!!) Apparently, according to an admin post by ‘Matt’ , the friendly face of WordPress, because I am part of some Ad programme? Oh, and I can opt out of this for 0.008c per hit?!?!

Listen, I don’t care what WordPress is advertising on my blog, as long as they give me the heads up and they reward me handsomely!! (Reward = Franschoek.)

Tomorrow, or the next day, when I am slightly more sober, I shall be taking this up with the authorities….

Who, where or what is Franschoek?


It just occurred to me that many of the bloggers that have a squizz at my posts, most probably do not have the slightest inkling of whom, or where, or what, ‘Franschoek‘ is. (As mentioned in previous blogs, people in South Africa do not seem to like me as much as the people in USA, UK and Montenegro – or however you spell that little country – hence my ‘really large’ and exotic foreign following…)

Well, to put you in the know, it is an absolutely fab little place just outside Cape Town. I have visited it on many occasions, and obviously, have a desire to get there again, and soon.

It is where many French Hugenot Settlers came to land once upon a time, and is is world-renowned for it’s super, fantastic wine; good food and laid back vibe.

Obviously, people like myself will never be able to afford real estate in this little corner of the world – but, hey, are we not allowed to visit once in a while and dream big ‘what if’s?’

Racing towards 3000 hits.

My palms are getting sweaty. My nails have been gnawed down to their quick (is that a word?).

I have been hit, by mildly interested readers, at a reasonably acceptable pace for the past week, hence the big 3-0-0-0 is on the radar; within my crazed blog-brain sight.

It always gets me a bit excited, when I start working towards a goal…

I even did a bit of networking duty, as suggested by popular bloggers like About Lady
or Not…Here I Come
 and Texana’s Kitchen   I just hope I did it right? And I tried to include meaningful and thoughtful comments regarding blogposts I thought were worthy.

I’ve also been visiting my fave local S.A. bloggers, like the 2 very famous mommy-bloggers, reluctantmom and The fat diaries, trying to pick up tips and hot topics. Although I must say that these two aunties are so very much on the opposite ends of the personality spectrum – each with their own set of morals, parenting styles, social class, confidence indicators, delusions of grandeur and mental wellness factors. I am hoping I slot in, somewhere between the two – in a piece of the normal-pie?

But back to the 3 and 3 zero’s. That offer of a Freebie Franschoek trippie is getting closer and closer … I can smell it in the glass of unwooded Chardonnay, here next to me.

Aaah … it would be blog-bliss.


Where’s the Tiara, Toddler?

Oooh … I smell a pageant prep …

I cannot really comment further, on the whole bad parenting thing, since you, as my avid followers, will know that in a previous post, I sort of erred on the side of said bad parenting, by posting a similar pic of my darling ‘Sissy’. For this I apologise profusely, although, in my defence, our make-up was more subdued and, let’s just say, tasteful.



I feel you, cousin!

Damn, I wish I had thought up this word! So rich and descriptive. Really says it all. Combining the best and worst of both crap and mental exhaustion. It is me, today. (Actually, ‘Exhaustipated’ is the badge I have been wearing around on my boob for quite a few days this past year.)

On the home front and a brighter note – took the pool cover off, because the sun was actually shining this morning. And damn, it was a really brighter note … in fact, the pool was luminous yellow. It’s glowing and eery translucence was only marred somewhat by the 15cm black, HAIRY worms floating around just below the surface. At least they were dead. Although, I am rather concerned about where these little fiends would have come from, and where then, were their buddies? This is the same pool that is 3m away from my front door which stands open on an all too regular basis? And judging by the size of the critters, I expect that they can cover an expansive area, in a short time, with just a few squiggles.

As I watched the pool boys (in this case – the work for free variety – S and J) stirring up the pea soup with the scoops and brushes and what-not, I must admit, the evil little voice in my head urged me to: “Go ahead, sneak up behind one of the pasty slave labourers, and give a little push. C’mon – it will be fun!” I think this mean impulse was fuelled by my enquiring mind, which was working overtime – trying to figure out whether the volatile pool liquid could make a human glow in the dark? I would have a long wait to sunset, before I could prove my theory. But, I am sure, well worth the wait …

Luckily for the boys (and C), the Granster pitched up, and whisked the kids off for a walk on the beach. So, distracted from my evil plans to light up someone’s life, I went back to watched the crime channels …

And I can only conclude that Americans are either way stupid, when it comes to killing off their countrymen, stealing and performing other crude crimes … or they really don’t give a f$%k about being caught? And oh, the evil web they weave, when start to realize they have screwed up … squirming like the worms in my pool.


Mmm, Felines, flap jacks and Chicken Pox

Today, I was super-busy with my other past-time … that of job procurement. So, it was off to another town, to chat to an individual whom I had never met before. And, of course, everyone I have met since then only had one thing to say to me: “How did it go?”

And, as usual, I thought is went well. Super awesome. Really productive. Exceptionally positive. But, then again, as with previous experiences, I may be mistaken. So, before I jinx this, let me just SHUT UP. Until further notice.

Picked up J from hostel today. Was thrilled to read an e-mail this afternoon, from said hostel, in which they bragged about the fact that they had a kid that had tested positive for, you guessed it, Chicken Pox!’ Oh, please. The last thing that this anti-mommy blogger desires right now. Have felt son’s forehead for fever at least 12 times since I read bad-news mail. No luck, yet.

Am hoping that there is no development of severe childhood disease, since said child has History, Natural Science, Maths and a two-to-three-minute debate-type-speech-oral-thingy to prepare. And there is no way this momma is getting involved – in any of this. Been there, done that and passed Grade 7.

This weekend, I plan to cuddle my cats, catch a mild, yet attractive tan and read the latest magazine I aquired with my Clicks cash back vouchers.

Ideally, I will not be involved in schoolwork of any variety, whatsoever. I shall only contribute to the educational cause in the next 2 days by sewing on yet another shirt button that, somehow, magically popped off during the quiet time, before prep? (For the record, I have lost count of the amount of buttons that I have sewn on this year.)

Have given the only Gr 7 in the house a brief synopsis of how I feel he should spend his time this weekend, if he is to complete tasks, as required. Whether he follows his mother’s sage advice, is to be witnessed from mother’s parental throne of the warm, cosy queen-sized bed in the main homestead’s boudiour.

Just keep telling myself: ” Children must learn the consequences of their actions.” Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Snuggle with assortment of feline companions. Repeat. Elicit coffee from youngest minion. Repeat and doze off, while beautifully drapped across cotton embroidered linen. Stroke feline head nearest to manicured left hand. And demand flap jacks at noon, with maple syrup and real butter.