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Showing posts from September, 2010

My husband the diplomat...

Hubby: "I''m soooo tired." Me: "Yip, I'm pretty tired too..." Hubby: *dead serious expression* "It's not the same, I'm MAN-tired. It's far worse." True story. That's a direct quote – 'straight from the horse's mouth' as my grandmother would say. My husband blurts out these little gems at least once a day and even though we've been man and wife for almost two years it never ceases to amaze me that there's never even the teeniest hint of irony in the sentences he states matter-of-factly. I've started to call it what it is: Man-quote of the day Yesterday, I took my almost-rid-of-the-nasty-flu body off of the couch and far away from E!News. I decided that my once beautiful little patio garden (refer to this post  ) needed to be restored to its former glory. You see, Winter has not been kind to my potted painting... gone are the pretty violets and baby blue hues that spilled over the rusted metal of my much l

If models are hangers for clothes

then I must be a walking hang up . For years, I have been the poster child for hang ups when it comes to my body and this week I had my annual post-Winter wardrobe meltdown. With the warmer weather comes the packing away of the bulky layers and the unpacking of the summer essentials that put every lily white dimple on display. It's an unavoidable opportunity to face the music and get very honest look at what the curries and Ouma's rusks did to your waistline between May and September. You can dodge the scale but you can't dodge last summer's wardrobe staple. Like most women I have a few items of clothing that haven't fitted me since I was closer to 20 than 30. Every Spring I pull the offensive pair of jeans and the designer cargo pants out from the bottom of the pile, brace myself, breathe in and try to wiggle my way into one or (if I'm feeling particularly brave) both. Neither pair every zips up with ease and I'm always left making bizarre promises to myse

Nothing quite like a great song

to get your mood from the basement to the ceiling . I have been so bogged down by deadlines and 'fat' days and generally feeling a little overwhelmed – from the moment Ellie wakes me up for her morning pee to the moment I hit Club Duvet – that I haven't wanted to blog.  Until I discovered (right in the middle of coming up with ad campaign concepts for a de-worming tablet – oh, the glamorous life of a freelancer!) that VH1 plays pretty fab music at sundown. And I'm not talking about the golden oldies, I'm talking about the brand spanking gotta get it as my blackberry ringtone new stuff that serves as the soundtrack to student nights all over Jozi mid-week.  Anyways, long story short I just spent the past 15 minutes bouncing around my living room singing along loudly (my poor neighbours were subjected to my ode to tone deaf-ness) to the new Flo-rida track 'The club can't even handle me right now' followed by that super cute 'I wanna be a billionaire s