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!

A letter to 13 year old MsMozi

I've been inspired by the work of Lordwiggly, Sweetass and Living Bridget, so here goes...

First of all, you need to tell your mom that it’s time for her to stop cutting your hair and go to a real hairdresser. The skew curtain of a fringe isn’t working and this may be the reason you haven’t managed to kiss, sorry I mean ‘grab’ a boy yet.

You’ve just arrived at your uptight all-girls’ school and you’re worried about not fitting in. The strange goth girls have befriended you and all the other girls are telling you to stay away from them. Although you’re probably going to listen to them, you’d be much better off if you didn’t because you end up befriending this bunch again in Std 9. You’re still hanging onto your two primary school friends and think that they’ll be your best friends for ever and ever. Well, here’s some news for you – by the time you’re 21 you’re not friends with either of them anymore. They’re both really bad for you and the sooner you get them out of your life the better.

You’re probably going to completely ignore Kay throughout your entire high school experience but she ends up being one of the greatest people in your life as you get older, so maybe you should start spending some more time with her now.

I know you’re spending hours in your room, longingly starting at your posters of Take That (actually, perhaps you should take those off the walls) dreaming about meeting a wonderful boy and wondering what’s wrong with you – but you’re wasting your time. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you and you are going to be pursued by many wonderful boys later on, so just enjoy being young!

Now I’m going to tell you something a little scary – but try and remember that your 26 year old self is still around to write this so it doesn’t turn out too badly. In two years time a doctor is going to discover that you’re really really sick. Now don’t panic…. But what’s going to follow is months of surgery, radiation and hospital time. Your parents are going to completely fall apart and you’re going to feel like you have to put on a brave face for them – but don’t. This is half the reason you got sick in the first place – you need to start talking about your problems instead of just pretending everything is okay all the time. Your friends and family will love you anyway and it’ll be much better if you learn this before you turn 21 and have to write off an entire year to learn how you should really be living your life.

After you get out of hospital – boys are finally going to start taking notice of you. You’re going to meet your first boyfriend and you are a complete bitch to him. This behaviour is completely unnecessary - I know this dating thing is all new to you, but you should really try and treat him with a bit more kindness during the course of your epic three week relationship. Before the end of Std 8 you’re going to have your first kiss in a movie theatre while watching Independence Day and you’re going to hate it (the kiss, not the movie). Don’t worry – it really does get much better than that.

At the end of Std 9 you’re going to fall in love for the first time. You’re going to date this boy for two years and a year of this will be long distance. You’re going to experience highs and lows like never before and even 13 years later you’ll still look back on the relationship and smile. He’s going to be your first for a lot of things and he’s just the right candidate. Enjoy it!

After you finish matric, you start being a real pain in the ass and drive our parents crazy. Try and be a little more considerate to mom and dad. They’re the best parents in the world and you know it… and besides, for the rest of your life they bring up this ‘problem year’ and make you feel guilty about it – so rather save us the complaining and just be nicer to them – okay?

And also try and put a little more work in when it comes to your relationship with your brother. By the time’s you’re 26 you have almost no relationship with him at all. Perhaps if you put more effort in earlier on it won’t get to this point.

You’re going to go on to travel, study and eventually work – and you have a pretty good attitude when it comes to balancing all of these elements. Don’t ever feel like you’re not doing enough – your priorities are just different to everyone else’s and you don’t need to make excuses for this. In fact, stop comparing yourself with others and don’t ever feel like you need to live up to someone else’s expectations. You’ll eventually learn that people’s motives aren’t always good, and although it’s a hard lesson, you’ll find it very liberating.

Stop worrying - you turn out pretty good later on – healthy, happy with strong relationships, mostly with people you don’t even know exist right now. You’re going to get intense joy out of life and walk around smiling most of the time. Don’t sweat the small stuff – things tend to always go your way at the end of the day.