I'm it!

I was tagged by Phillygirl to do a list of 50 things about myself, so here goes...

1. I’m a dog person – especially the tiny, fluffy rat-like kind. Not really the Tinkerbell sort – but my heart turns into warm gooey melted chocolate at the sight of a Yorkshire Terrier.

2. I adore reality television, especially Bachelor-esque ones, I get indescribable joy at watching the claws come out and the snot en trane that accompanies it.

3. Until recently I was a serial monogamist. I went straight from one long term relationship into another until Italian Ex Boyfriend and I broke up and I stayed single for over year before meeting FD.

4. I’ve got a recipe book addiction. I hardly ever cook anything out of them but I love flipping through the pages.

5. I have an extra rib. I didn’t know about it until I put my neck out from sleeping in awkward positions in the bus on a Contiki tour. We had a chiropractor on the tour with us (pretty good luck that was) and when she popped my vertebra back in she pointed out that I had an extra rib where my neck meets my shoulder – apparently it’s pretty common. I still think it sounds pretty weird.

6. I don’t like spa treatments. Yet people always seem to think a spa voucher is the perfect gift – when Italian Ex Boyfriend gave me one for my birthday I knew the relationship was over.

7. I’m not particularly keen on chocolate. Every once in a blue moon I’ll have a craving but a tiny piece is enough to satisfy me for ages after that.

8. I adore epic, fantasy movies… Lord of the Rings, 300 – totally my cup of tea.

9. I’m also a total sci-fi geek. I have Season 1 – 3 of Battlestar Galactica on DVD. I blame my brother – he’s 10 years older than me so I was watching Star Wars from birth.

10. There are certain childhood experiences I completely missed out on. I never watched Mary Poppins, and I’ve never eaten Jungle Oats or Pro Nutro.

11. I don’t like weddings. I like the idea of marriage – but if eventually I could totally skip the wedding part and go on a magical honeymoon instead I’d be a happy camper.

12. It takes a lot to stress me out… no matter how much work demands of me, I’ll usually just switch off before I get stressed. Only strained relationships between friends, family and lovers stress me out.

13. I hate fleamarkets. As soon as I set a foot in one I want to run screaming for the exit.

14. I love musical theatre – I was raised on The Rocky Horror Picture Show and I have a total weakness for Andrew Lloyd Webber productions like Cats, Phantom of the Opera and Jesus Christ Superstar.

15. My family are Jewish – my immediate family (with the exception of my brother) are all non-practicing. I have no interest in it whatsoever. I’ve also never dated a Jewish boy and have no Jewish friends. My mother still has the Jewish insatiable need to feed people though. FD digs it.

16. I could eat sushi every day of my life and never get bored of it.

17. The same goes for most Asian cuisine – especially Thai and Chinese.

18. I want to love scuba diving but I just don’t. I can’t understand it because I love the ocean and have always been a water baby but there’s something about scuba diving that freaks the crap out of me.

19. I used to believe that I should expect the worst and be pleasantly surprised when things go right. Now I always hope for the best and brave the disappointment when things don’t go as planned.

20. I adore making lists. I make lists for everything. It may be a way of procrastinating to avoid the actual task at hand, but it’s compulsive and out of my control.

21. If Ashton Kutcher lived in South Africa I would become a proper stalker – seriously, the restraining order kind.

22. I always reply to emails and hardly ever reply to smses.

23. I tend to forgive and forget far too easily.

24. I can spend vast amounts of time in my own company and never get bored. Having a much older brother meant that I needed to learn how to entertain myself as a child and I’m glad to have that skill later in life. Until I met FD I craved loads of alone time, but now I find I can still maintain my Zenlike-state with him around.
25. Along with rest of my generation as a result of the movie ‘It’ I have an irrational fear of clowns. I also have chiroptophobia, a fear of bats. I don’t understand their purpose in this world.

26. I’ve never bought lettuce from a green grocer in my entire life. The idea of picking it apart, washing it and possibly coming across a worm completely freaks me out. I will only buy it pre-washed in a packet from Woolworths.

27. I used to have a massive complex about my height – I’m about 5’3 which isn’t even excessively short compared with other women – but I used to refuse to wear flat shoes until about five years ago.

28. I can tap dance… I can also do modern and hip hop… pole dancing is next.

29. I have a small Taurus symbol tattooed onto my lower back.

30. My favourite indulgence has become freshly brewed imported coffee made with a plunger – usually brought to my bedside by FD.

31. I think I enjoy horror movies but I actually hate them. When ever I go and watch one I end up hiding behind my popcorn box the entire time.

32. I can’t have a room mate – when The Ron moved in for a couple of weeks I nearly killed him in cold blood.

33. I can play the guitar – an ex taught me the basics and after we broke up I carried on teaching myself. I can only play cheesy drunken sing along tunes but I love it.

34. I love watching rugby live or on TV. I don’t feel the same way about cricket.

35. I have a book where I write down all sentimental smses that I can’t bear to delete forever – I’ve been doing it for about five years now and its almost turned into a bit of a diary documenting relationships as they take their course.

36. I used to be a hoarder but now I’m a compulsive thrower-awayer… all sorts of vital documents have hit the bin since.

37. I don’t like cocktails. Except for mojitos. And pina coladas. And daquiris. And caparinhas. Okay, apparently I do like cocktails.

38. I think Elvis is fabulous. So is Oprah.

39. People used to say I spoke with a posh accent after I left high school as a result of my snooty private school education. Fortunately I now speak like the rest of the country.

40. I won’t eat game meat. I also won’t eat veal. I do, however, eat lamb. Apparently in my head baby cows don’t deserve to die but baby sheep do. I try not to think about it too much.

41. I haven’t smoked a cigarette in four and a half months. I still crave one every once in a while though.

42. I think gerbers are just the prettiest flowers in the world. And jasmine smells the best.

43. My maternal instinct hasn’t really kicked in yet. The only kid I really love is my nephew. I’m hoping when I eventually have my own something will kick into gear.

44. I think the Red Hot Chili Peppers are demi-gods.

45. I really wish I wasn’t fascinated by the Hollywood antics splashed across the pages of Heat magazine – but I am.

46. I can only read trashy novels when on holiday… either rubbishy chick lit or gruesome, nail biting crime thrillers.

47. I have two t-shirts with Madiba’s face on, another with a map of Africa and yet another with Jozi’s skyline – I wear my patriotism with pride.

48. I’m allergic to the nickel found in metal – which means I can’t wear jewellery unless it’s platinum or gold.

49. I’ll share anything, except popcorn in a movie.

50. I’m going to Mauritius next week – woohoo!

Money, money, money!

This subject is a bit taboo – but it’s something I’ve been noticing a little more prominently than ever before.

The media industry isn’t exactly known for its fat pay cheques – people do it because they enjoy it – and not for the bank balance it promises at the end of the working day. The majority of my friends are in similar industries and we’re all pretty much in the same tax bracket.

But recently The Fugitive was in town and on her final night her friends wanted to have dinner together to bid her farewell. One of her friends, who’s roughly my age but excessively wealthy with a vast array of political links, decided that a simple braai wouldn’t do – so he flicked out his Blackberry and speed dialled Pigalle Restaurant in Sandton and booked a table. And this irked me a little. Pigalle, with an average price of about R120 per main course, is completely beyond the budget of almost every single one of her friends. But with this being her farewell – we all wanted to go to say goodbye.

R300 and a barely full stomach later – I was definitely annoyed. And this was further exacerbated by the fact that the boy that made the booking ended up joining us only for coffee afterwards.

And this past weekend it almost happened again. It had been one of those weekends where FD and I kept on eating out and by Saturday evening we didn’t really feel like spending loads of cash all over again. We met up with The Ron and his girlfriend for drinks, which turned into dinner at another fairly expensive restaurant. FD and I weren’t that hungry, and didn’t feel like splashing out for a pricey meal, so we just went for some of the cheaper items on the menu, while the others went for seafood and steaks. A little later, when the bill came, they suggested we split it four ways. Now how on earth can a person broach the subject of not finding the suggestion fair without looking cheap?

Joburg is a pretty materialistic city – those with cash flaunt it and those without it try to do everything they can to keep up appearances. But I’m really not keen to play that game. In my case, and FDs, it doesn’t even really come down to not being able to afford expensive restaurants – as we both have minimal living expenses – so most of the cash we earn is for us to spend with free abandon – but I’m not that keen to blow it all on pretentious restaurants.

And on this subject – restaurants have officially gone bonkers – when did it become okay to charge, on average, between R70 and R90 for a really average main meal? A cocktail alone at Espressos in Parkhurst will set you back R35, and a glass of crappy house wine at Moyos around R40. It’s not a matter of being able to afford it - it’s an issue of not being okay with being blatantly ripped off.

Guess who's moving in!

Almost four years ago I fled the sanctuary of my parents home – and decided to make a go of it alone living in my own apartment. It’s been Blissful. Liberating. Fabulous.

While it lasted.

My parents, with chronic empty nest syndrome decided that since I wasn’t going to be moving back in with them – that they’d just move in with me instead.

So on Wednesday morning my parents moved into their newly purchased apartment – in the same complex as mine.

I’ve given this a lot of thought and devised a list of pros and cons.

Pros:

- Daily free laundry service.
- Daily free meals – whenever needed.
- Grocery shopping will no longer take place at Woolworths – it was take place simply by opening my parents’ refrigerator and pantry.
- 24 hour TLC when I’m sick.
- Not having to drive anywhere for a catch-up session with my folks.

Cons:

- My father learning that FD sleeps over on average 5 nights a week as he sees FD’s little car parked neatly next to his in the parking lot (even on school nights! Yikes!)
- Lying about not being able to see them on account of other plans will become impossible.
- So far the only people that have gotten a free meal out of the new living arrangements are my parents.
- They can now nag at any time, without even picking up a phone
- Having to make sure that my apartment is devoid of any signs of corruptness (condoms, empty wine bottles, underwear strewn across bedroom floor) at all times as they both have keys and around the clock access.

It’s going to be interesting.

Is the same old thing always a bad thing?

When FD stays over on a week night – certain events unfold every morning.

My alarm goes off at 06h30 – I let out a little groan of protest, roll over giving FD a quick kiss before climbing out of bed and hitting the shower. I then get dressed, collect my hairdryer and hair straightner from my room where FD is still blissfully snoozing and take it to the lounge where I can make noise with free abandon. By then it’s about 07h00 - I gently wake up FD and we both go to the kitchen where he makes us fancy coffee with one of those coffee plunger thingums, and I make us muesli and yoghurt. We then take everything through to the lounge where I glance through the headlines on News24 on DSTV, wishing for some natural disaster that will stop me from going to work, before switching between VH1 and MTV which FD and I watch while ripping apart all the cheesy music videos until we have to go to work.

I’ve never thought about it much… until this morning. I had just put FD’s bowl of muesli in front of him when he jokingly said: “We’re like an old married couple with our morning routine”.

My heart skipped a beat. If there’s one thing that makes me freak out – it’s falling into a rut. In my head – the next step is the loss of passion, complete boredom, taking each other for granted and so on…

But is there a difference between falling into a routine and falling into a rut? The more I think about it, the more I realise that it’s impossible to not fall into some kind of routine when you spend a lot of time with someone. Is there such a thing as a good routine or is it always a bad thing?

Perhaps a rut is an inescapable routine – something that you want to break but don’t feel like you can – while a good routine can leave people feeling loved and secure.

Any thoughts?

Warning – meltdown!!!

I am currently experiencing high levels of load shedding rage – be warned, this may lead to psychological meltdown during the hours of 06h30 – 23h00.

How can a country expect to function this way? The power was shut off to my suburb three times yesterday – is this not a little excessive?

My mom informed me that the first one happened from 10h00 until 12h00. When I got home from work yesterday I discovered the power was once again off, bringing all plans of going to a gym to a screaming halt. Then, I headed off to the Blues Room in Village Walk to watch some stand up comedy, when at 20h00, once again we were plunged into darkness. I live down the road from the venue so I knew this meant my area was powerless too.

And what really irks me beyond belief is that as I slowly (very slowly) drive home as a result of traffic build up around non-functional robots – everywhere I look I see massive hotel/residential/shopping/business developments going up. How on earth can these guys be awarded the rights to build huge scale developments when even the most basic infrastructure is falling apart around us? Perhaps it’s time we stop pretending we’re a first world country when businesses around South Africa are left, quite literally, in the dark, unable to produce anything and therefore drive our economy?

Apparently Eskom also supplies electricity to our neighbouring countries – Zimbabwe, Mozambique… are our neighbours also included in power cuts because I don’t see them listed anywhere in Eskom’s completely impossible to understand load shedding schedule up on its website.

If it’s like this in summer – what on earth is going to happen in winter?? And how can Eskom really expect the country to continue this way for the next 5 – 10 years?

A rant like this is extremely unusual from me – at the worst of times I’m usually the last bastion of optimism but lately I’m starting change my tune.

MsMozi in… Part II

The final day in Pringle Bay dawned on the 22nd and it was time to head to the Garden Route. Kay had kindly offered me a bed at the Plettenberg Bay holiday house her family was staying in.

About half way there, chilling out in the car, listening to some tunes and chatting about nonsense, we suddenly heard a loud ripping noise as I saw FD’s surfboard flying in the air behind us and miraculously dodging oncoming traffic. It managed to tear the roof rails right off the car – hectic! The surfboard amazingly survived the ordeal with only a few scratches and one broken fin.

So FD made a new plan to securely secure the surfboard to the roof of the car and we were back on the road. I’ve been going on family holidays to the Garden Route almost every December since birth so I was extremely excited at the prospect of showing FD all my favourite secret places (that sounded a little porno).

After a quick self-guided tour through Sedgefield and an even quicker swim in the sea at Swartvlei Beach, we set off for Plett – where we met up with Kay and her family in an incredibly enormous house close to Keurbooms. Her family kindly offered FD a bed for the night and we settled in for an evening of Gin & Tonics and an awesome braai.

Staying at Kay’s spot was endlessly entertaining – she has two older brothers, who both brought their girlfriends along for the holiday. Kay’s mom is rather protective of her kids and had decided that neither of these girls were really good enough for her boys and had no qualms about making her feelings known. It was hilarious to be on the other side of it watching the dramas play out.

The weather took a turn for the worse the next day – and that evening, it was time for FD to head off to Calitzdorp near Oudtshoorn to see his dad and pick up the tent he was being given as a Christmas present. I decided at the last minute to go with him so we set off at about 8pm in the pouring rain for the one and a half hour drive. I wolfed down a cheeseburger and chips right before the extremely bendy Outeniqua Mountain Pass – remembering only too late about my extreme motion sickness. Ended up throwing up on side of the road before passing out in the passenger seat all the way there – so I was really super company. But there’s something about that first vomit experience that bonds a couple – don’t ya think?

My first words to FD’s dad were also truly spectacular:

FD: Shame, Mozi is feeling a little sick – she got a bit of motion sickness on the way here
FD’s Dad: You barfed?
Mozi: Yep.

Not exactly the way I wanted things to go down.

Regardless, I spent the next two nights getting to know FD’s dad better and chilled out in the really remote and excessively quiet Calitzdorp (and sampling some of the Port the region is famous for – yum!)

Oh and that reminds me of another thing – FD and I were sharing a great room in his dad’s place – minus one small detail that I’ve noticed happening with increasing frequency all over the show – the en-suite bathroom had no door… not even an attempt at a door in the form of a curtain or those dangly bead thingies – nada. Do some people actually like this? How hard can it be to put a door up?

Anyway, we then headed back to Plett – FD’s best friend had arrived in town and the two of them found a backpackers to set up camp in while I got to stay in my nice comfy bed in the luxurious surroundings of Kay’s spot for the next three nights.

Highlights of the second phase of the road trip included:

*An amazing snorkel at Gerickes Point in Sedgefield , followed by the sun finally making an appearance!

*Take-away pizza eating while gazing out at the beautiful view from the Knysna Heads look out point

*A crazy night catching up with Kay, The Fugitive and Jop, involving about 11 bottles of wine and 6 people – wow.

*Great catch-up breakfasts with FD everyday

*FD finding me a giant pansy shell on one of his free dives in Plett

*Warm sea water…. So good.

Stay tuned for Part III!

MsMozi in.... Part I

I’m baaaack!!!

What an incredible December break… still battling the brain mush factor from being at the coast for too long, but starting to get my eye in at work, and will probably be a fully functional Joburger by the end of the week.

Ended up embarking on a road trip for the past three weeks, some of it spontaneous, some of it planned – almost all of it fabulous.

It kicked off at 3am with plans to reach Cape Town before sunset. I hopped into FD’s corsa with his surfboard strapped disturbingly unsecurely (insecurely?) to the roof.



By 4pm we were in the Mother City. With no where to stay. Now I’ve mentioned before that FD is the free-spirited type – and I adore this about him – but being over 1 000km away from home without anywhere to sleep that night makes me a little panicky. I think he sensed this and he called up his best buddy (who ironically is hottie in this post) who organised us a bed for the night at his girlfriend’s spot. This bed also happened to be her bed, so I felt quite dreadfully guilty for taking over this stranger’s home, but FD was completely happy with the situation. I started to panic – I was set to join Kay in Plett in about a week’s time – but what were we going to do until then? Surely we couldn’t possibly squat in this poor girl’s bedroom until then?

Thankfully my prayers were answered and the next day, while soaking up the sun in Hout Bay we got a phone call from FD’s mom to say that their family’s holiday home in Pringle Bay, about an hour out of Cape Town, was free and open.


So a few moments later we had packed up, picked up Aye, and were en route to beautiful Pringle Bay.



Upon arrival we cracked open a bottle of wine and realised it was too late for dinner so went into the tiny town to find a bar where we could continue drinking instead. Started polishing off shooters, which we affectionately named ‘Khayaletsha Toilets’ and ended up getting completely broken, while FD tried to fight off the advances of Minnie – the 40 year old owner of…. wait for it….Pringle Bay Mini Mart.

Highlights from the first leg of the road trip included:

- The sighting of a completely hairless dog, clad in a Brazil t-shirt frolicking owner-less on the beach – only to discover that Aye had spotted the same dog a few days before, except he was wearing a grey vest.

- FD’s freshly caught crayfish on the braai dripping in garlic butter…mmmmm

- Rock climbing my first ever 16 – ‘Fifth Element’ in Kleinmond

- Lazing in the hammock (yes, that’s a sneaky look at my sexy FD on the hammock) gazing out at the paradise of Pringle


Stay tuned for Part II of the December road trip!