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JAYNE WITH A WHY |
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Sunday, April 30, 2006TEN DAYS 
Only TEN days & just over 2hrs............but who's counting?  
Friday, April 28, 2006C & C AWARD TIMECACTUS AWARD  This goes to all the tenants who have moved out of apartments & left their filth behind. I have moved house some 34 times in my life & I have NEVER, repeat NEVER left dirt or filth behind me. I've been viewing apartments in & around Abu Dhabi this past week & some of the places I've seen have literally been digusting. I'm sorry, but I just cannot understand how a woman, whether she be a working woman or just a housewife, can't go around her place of abode with at least a broom & sweep up the mess from the actual removal of furniture etc. I've been told many times just recently "don't worry, we'll clean the place up". Sure, a new tenant will expect to move into a new apartment (in this case) with the knowledge that it has been made presentable, but to me, there is no excuse for bloody laziness & apathetic attitude from the vacating tenant. (arms crossed & quite "hmph!" - she climbs down off her soap box) CARNATION AWARD
This goes to the company that Hubs works for. He was given a very unexpected increase, which has been back-dated to the beginning of the year. And, he's been assured that he 'mustn't worry himself' about finding a new apartment. "Tell your wife to find a place that she likes & I'll make sure the lease is signed & you have the cheque on the same day". Companies (and their Directors) don't come along like this too often! Hubs works bloody hard & you have no idea how much it means to him (and me) that his knowledge & experience is not only appreciated, but also rewarded.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006THE CHIKKIN HAS LANDED! Mummy Shans & Chikkin arrived in SA safe & sound............whew, now I can relax a bit! I've yet to establish whether Shans is still sane, so stay tuned!
Tuesday, April 25, 2006TIME FLIES   Well, can you believe how the time flies...............only 15 days & 4hrs until we make the trek home to see this beautiful baby girl!   As I write, Mummy Shans & Chikkin are in the air, on their way from Dublin to Jo'burg & then down to the Eastern Cape. It's the first time for Chikkin on an airyplane & I can't help but wonder how Shans is coping. *sigh*
Stage 1 - CLEVER This is when you suddenly become an expert on every subject in the known universe. You know you know everything and you want to pass on your knowledge to anyone who will listen. At this stage you are always right. And, of course, the person you are talking to is very wrong. This makes for an interesting argument when both parties are CLEVER. Stage 2 - ATTRACTIVE This is when you realise that you are the most ATTRACTIVE person in the entire bar and that everyone fancies you. You can go up to a perfect stranger knowing that they fancy you and really want to talk to you. Bear in mind that you are still CLEVER, so you can talk to this person about any subject under the sun. Stage 3 - RICH This is when you suddenly become the RICHEST person in the room. You can buy drinks for the entire bar because you have a bottomless wallet. You can also make bets at this stage because of course you are still CLEVER so, naturally, you will always win. Anyway, it doesn't matter how much you bet because you are RICH. You will also buy drinks for everyone that you fancy, in the knowledge that you are clearly the most ATTRACTIVE person present. Stage 4 - INVINCIBLE You are now ready to pick fights with anyone and everyone, especially those with whom you have been betting or arguing. This is because you are now INVINCIBLE. At this point you can also go up to the partners of the people who you fancy and challenge them to a battle of wits or strength. You have no fear of losing this battle, because as well as being INVINCIBLE you are CLEVER, you're RICH and you're more ATTRACTIVE than them anyway. Stage 5 - INVISIBLE This is the final stage of drunkenness. At this point you can do anything, because you are now INVISIBLE. You can dance on a table to impress the people who you fancy because the rest of the people in the room cannot see you. You can also snog the face off them for the same reason. You are also INVISIBLE to the people who want to fight you. You can walk through the street singing at the top of your lungs because no one can see or hear you and because you're still CLEVER you know all the words. THE FIVE STAGES OF SOBERING UP Stage 1 - STUPID As you regain consciousness and begin to enjoy the headache, the churning stomach and the cold sweats, you realise that you have lost not only several hours of your life but also the ability to concentrate on anything whatsoever. You are now STUPID and will remain so for a minimum of 12 hours. Stage 2 - UGLY Never entirely happy with the effects of the bathroom mirror first thing you are horrified to discover that you have now become even UGLIER than you previously thought possible. Not only have you got bloodshot eyes and a glorious collection of spots but you are shaking so much that your grandfather probably looks healthier. Unfortunately you are still too STUPID to know better than to try and shave whilst shaking. Stage 3 - POOR Having crawled out of bed and got dressed you are about to shamble out the door when you discover that the money that was to last you the week is now missing from your wallet. Being STUPID, you have no idea what happened to it but the traces of curry on your clothes allow the possibility that you might have treated everyone to a takeaway at somepoint. Alternatively your pocket could have been picked or you might have given the taxi driver a fifty pound note by mistake. Rationalising that you couldn't possibly have been that STUPID and that you would remember being robbed, you come to believe that you were the only one who bought any food or drinks all night and start to loathe all your friends. Stage 4 - FRAGILE As you are now STUPID, UGLY and POOR, your consequently FRAGILE self-esteem plummets. Your already FRAGILE physical condition ensures that you feel liable to shatter if anyone even speaks to you. Stage 5 - CONSPICUOUS This is the final stage of sobering up. Unfortunately, everyone can spot this CONSPICUOUS condition and its cause from a great distance. Even worse, they know that they can complete your misery by making fun of you, and that you are too STUPID to retaliate, too FRAGILE to hit them, too POOR to bribe them and too UGLY to hide. HANGOVER RATING SYSTEM No pain. No real feeling of illness. You slept in your own bed and when you woke up there were no traffic cones in there with you. You are still able to function relatively well on the energy stored up from all those vodka Redbulls. However, you can drink 10 bottles of water and still feel as parched as the Sahara. Even vegetarians are craving a Cheeseburger and side of fries. 2 Star Hangover * * No pain, but something is definitely amiss. You may look okay but you have the attention span and mental capacity of a stapler. The coffee you hug to try and remain focused is only exacerbating your rumbling gut, which is craving a full English breakfast. Although you have a nice demeanour about the office, you are costing your employer valuable money because all you really can handle is some light filing, followed by aimlessly surfing the net and writing junk e-mails. 3 Star Hangover * * * Slight headache. Stomach feels crap. You are definitely a space cadet and not so productive. Anytime a girl or lad walks by you gag because her perfume / aftershave reminds you of the random gin shots you did with your alcoholic friends after the bouncer kicked you out at 3:45 a.m. Life would be better right now if you were in your bed with a dozen doughnuts and a litre of coke watching daytime TV. You've had 4 cups of coffee, a gallon of water, 2 Sausage Rolls and a litre of diet coke yet you haven't peed once. 4 Star Hangover * * * * You have lost the will to live. Your head is throbbing and you can't speak too quickly or else you might throw up. Your boss has already lambasted you for being late and has given you a lecture for reeking of booze. You wore nice clothes, but you smell of socks, and you can't hide the fact that you either missed an oh-so crucial spot shaving or it looks like you put your make-up on while riding the dodgems (depending on your gender). Your teeth have their own individual sweaters. Your eyes look like one big vein and your hairstyle makes you look like a reject from the second-grade class picture circa 1976. You would give a weeks pay for one of the following; Home time, a doughnut and somewhere to be alone or a time machine so you could go back and NOT have gone out the night before. You scare small children in the street just by walking past them. 5 Star Hangover * * * * * You have a second heartbeat in your head, which is actually annoying the employee who sits next to you. Vodka vapour is seeping out of every pore and making you dizzy. You still have toothpaste crust in the corners of your mouth from brushing your teeth. Your body has lost the ability to generate saliva, so your tongue is suffocating you. You'd cry but that would take the last of the moisture left in your body. Death seems pretty good right now. Your boss doesn't even get mad at you and your co-workers think that your dog just died because you look so pathetic. You should have called in sick because, let's face it, all you can manage to do is breathe......very gently. 6 Star Hangover * * * * * * You arrive home and climb into bed. Sleep comes instantly, as you were fighting it all the way home in the taxi. You get about 2 hours sleep until the noises inside your head wake you up. You notice that you bed has been cleared for take off and is flying relentlessly around the room. No matter what you do you now, you're going to chuck. You stumble out of bed and now find that your room is in a yacht under full sail. After walking along the skirting boards on alternating walls & knocking off all the pictures, you find the toilet. If you are lucky you will remember to lift the lid before you spontaneously explode and wake the whole house up with your impersonation of walrus mating calls. You sit there on the floor in your undies, cuddling the only friend in the world you have left (the toilet), randomly continuing to make the walrus noises, spitting, and farting. Help usually comes at this stage, even if it is short lived. Tears stream down your face and your abdomen hurts. Help now turns into abuse and he/she usually goes back to bed leaving you there in the dark. With your stomach totally empty, your spontaneous eruptions have died back to 15-minute intervals, but your body won't relent. You are convinced that you are starting to turn yourself inside out and swear that you saw your tonsils projectile out your mouth on the last occasion. It is now dawn and you pass your disgusted partner getting up for the day as you try to climb into bed. She /He abuses you again for trying to get into bed with lumpy bits of dried vomit in your hair. You reluctantly accept their advice and have a shower in exchange for them driving you to the hospital. Work is not an option. The whole day is spent trying to avoid anything that might make you sick again, like moving. You vow never to touch a drop again and who knows for the next two or three hours at least you might even succeed.
Saturday, April 22, 2006WHEN I WAS YOUNGI like to fall asleep at night thinking of nice things. This could mean anything from rekindling images of fish eagles swooping down to catch their supper in the Chobe river, to images of Grandma mixing up her words after a couple of glasses of wine..................(she's anybody's after 3 glasses!) Last night, for some unknown reason, I fell asleep thinking about things from my childhood. What was really very strange - weird even - was that for so long, I've been tormented by things from my days as a kid that have caused me a great deal of pain & anguish. I honestly cannot remember when I last thought of some of the following things, which are really happy memories ............... One of my earliest memories as a sprog was being in hospital to have my tonsils out. I was 4yrs old. I don't remember the actual operation or any of the pain associated with it, which is a good thing I s'pose. What I do remember tho' is sitting cross-legged on the hospital bed & trying to explain to a black nurse that I needed to go to the toilet. I remember her being black & I remember her not understanding neither me nor my request for a toilet. She brought some toys to my bed. I didn't want toys. I told her again - "toilet!" & I remember wondering why this black lady couldn't understand me? (Altho' I hail from a small Kentish village, this nurse wasn't the first black person I'd been in contact with.) I don't recall what the outcome of the situation was, but do remember crying............awwwww! My mum took me to Sevenoaks hospital on more than one occasion, for swallowing money. I have no idea why I chose to eat threepenny bits, but do remember thinking it was fun to have an x-ray taken of my tummy, cos it showed where the coin was! The doctor told mum to "just let nature take its course" & mum in turn told me to keep my eye out for anything that resembled a coin after I'd taken a dump! My best mate was called - nicknamed rather - Bumpscrub. She lived 2 doors down from me & we did a whole heap of things together as young 'uns. Sometimes it would involve pushing one another into Aunty Page's garden, which was full of stinging nettles. For whatever reason, sometimes me & Bumpscrub would fight. This would involve mighty wallops & kicks & the prized trophy of a chunk of hair that had been pulled out! There would be snot 'n tears, but within a day or two, all would be forgiven & we'd take off to create some serious mischief. In summer, we would go down to a nearby stream (the river Darenth) & catch stickleback fish with an old jam jar. If we felt really really brave, we would venture under the bridge, but I can't recall us doing that too often, cos it was pretty scary! I remember the unique sound of my Grandie's BSA 650cc Super Road Rocket. Within seconds of him leaving his home, which was just over a mile away, I could tell he was on his way to us. I knew that sound without a moments hesitation & I could tell how far along the road he was by his changing gears. He would pull up just outside our house & he'd have a bundle of fresh, home grown vegetables for us. After the normal cup of tea & chat with mum & dad, he would take me & my brother for a spin on the Beezer. There would always be an argument as to who would go first. No crash helmets, no 'safety gear', nothing, except the clothes I had on & sometimes that would still be my jarmies. I'd hold on to Grandie & have the absolute time of my life! I think my brother was 8yrs old when he was allowed to take the Beezer for a ride by himself, always under the instruction of "don't go too bloody fast either!". I don't actually remember my brother taking me as a passenger, but I'm sure he must have at some stage. I remember my primary school music teacher - Mrs Ward. She was such a lovely lady. She had a growth of some kind on her head & she would always ask us kids to please tell us when her 'bump' was showing, so that she could quickly rearrange her hair to cover it up. She taught English as well & I can remember asking her for homework, because I enjoyed her lessons so much! I think I was always last on the school register, cos my surname began with W. I remember playing leapfrog over the Keep Left sign on the roundabout outside our house. My dad made me stilts & I could stay on them for hours. Dad also made us taboggens which were the envy of many a kid in the village. I can remember the number plate of my dads car - TLP 51. I can remember the name of the neighbours dog that bit me - Casper. I can remember walking for hours along the old railway line, either picking blackberries, or primroses & bluebells - depending on the season. I can remember the smell of the polish I'd use for Grandies motorbike, the smell of his pipe tobacco, the smell of sweetpea flowers & the most amazing roses from his garden. I can remember waking up to the sound of Jim Reeves, Hank Williams or Engelbert Humperdink on a Sunday morning & toasting thick slices of bread, on a homemade fork from a coathanger at Uncle ben's house down the Weald................ It's been so nice for me to write this out.............if only I could remember who I was & where I am :-D
Thursday, April 20, 2006SOME FUNNY PICS I know I've got a warped sense of humour.............can you just imagine this minesweeper making a run for it after bursting the bag? :-)) So tell me................would you ring this doorbell?
The caption says it all!
Diving Instruction No. 1 : DO NOT FART IN WETSUIT!
As if an alligator is gonna be interested in you saying "Oooooh yeah baby"?
For all of you with teenagers or who have had teenagers, or are a teenager, you may want to know why they really have a lot in common with cats: 1. Neither teenagers nor cats turn their heads when you call them by name. 2. No matter what you do for them, it is not enough. Indeed, all humane efforts are barely adequate to compensate for the privilege of waiting on them hand and foot. 3. You rarely see a cat walking outside of the house with an adult human being, and it can be safely said that no teenager in his or her right mind wants to be seen in public with his or her parents. 4. Even if you tell jokes as well as Jay Leno, neither your cat nor your teen will ever crack a smile. 5. No cat or teenager shares you taste in music. 6. Cats and teenagers can lie on the living-room sofa for hours on end without moving, barely breathing. 7. Cats have nine lives. Teenagers carry on as if they did. 8. Cats and teenagers yawn in exactly the same manner, communicating that ultimate human ecstasy......a sense of complete and utter boredom. 9. Cats and teenagers do not improve anyone's furniture. 10. Cats that are free to roam outside sometimes have been known to return in the middle of the night to deposit a dead animal in your bedroom. Teenagers are not above that sort of behavior. Thus, if you must raise teenagers, the best sources of advice are not other parents, but veterinarians. It is also a good idea to keep a guidebook on cats at hand at all times. And remember, above all else, put out the food and do not make any sudden moves in their direction. When they make up their minds, they will finally come to you for some affection and comfort, and it will be a triumphant moment for all concerned.
Little Johnny came into the kitchen where his mother was making dinner. His birthday was coming up and he thought this was a good time to tell his mother what he wanted. "Mom, I want a bike for my birthday." Little Johnny was a bit of a troublemaker. He had gotten into trouble at school and at home. Johnny's mother asked him if he thought he deserved to get a bike for his birthday. Little Johnny, of course, thought he did. Johnny's mother wanted Johnny to reflect on his behaviour over the last year. "Go to your room, Johnny, and think about how you have behaved this year. Then write a letter to God and tell him why you deserve a bike for your birthday." Little Johnny stomped over to his room and sat down to write God a letter. Letter 1: Dear God,I have been a very good boy this year and I would like a bike for my birthday. I want a red one. Your friend, Johnny Johnny knew that this wasn't true. He had not been a very good boy this year, so he tore up the letter and started over. Letter 2: Dear God, This is your friend, Johnny. I have been a pretty good boy this year and would like a red bike for my birthday. Thank you. Your friend, Johnny Johnny knew that this wasn't true, either. So, he tore up the letter and started again. Letter 3: Dear God, I have been an "OK" boy this year. I still would really like a red bike for my birthday. Johnny Johnny knew he could not send this letter to God either. So, Johnny wrote another letter. Letter 4: Dear God, I know I haven't been a good boy this year. I am very sorry. I will be a good boy if you just send me a red bike for my birthday. Please! Thank you, Johnny Johnny knew this letter was not going to get him a bike. By now, Johnny was very upset. He went to the kitchen and told his mom that he wanted to go to church. "Just be home in time for dinner," Johnny's mother told him. Johnny walked down the street to the church on the corner. He went into the church and up to the altar. He looked around to see if anyone was there. Johnny bent down and picked up a statue of the Virgin Mary. He slipped it under his shirt and ran out of the church, down the street, into the house, and over to his room. He shut the door to his room and sat down with a piece of paper and a pen. Johnny began to write his letter to God. Letter 5: Dear God, I'VE GOT YOUR MOTHER. IF YOU WANT TO SEE HER AGAIN, SEND THE BIKE! Signed, YOU KNOW WHO
Monday, April 17, 2006COUNTDOWN 
The Countdown has begun! 23 Days until we leave to go home & Grandad gets to see Chikkin for the first time.........awwwww............... 
Sunday, April 16, 2006GIVING A CAT A BATH (part 2)1. Thoroughly clean the toilet. 2. Add the required amount of shampoo to the toilet water, and have both lids lifted. 3. Obtain the cat and soothe him while you carry him towards the bathroom. 4. In one smooth movement, put the cat in the toilet and close both lids (you may need to stand on the lid so that he cannot escape). CAUTION: Do not get any part of your body too close to the edge, as his paws will be reaching out for any thing they can find. 5. Flush the toilet three or four times. This provides a "power wash and rinse" which I have found to be quite effective. 6. Have someone open the door to the outside and ensure that there are no people between the toilet and the outside door. 7. Stand behind the toilet as far as you can, and quickly lift both lids. 8. The now clean cat will rocket out of the toilet, and run outside where he will dry himself. 
 Some people say cats never have to be bathed. They say cats lick themselves clean. They say cats have a special enzyme of some sort in their saliva that works like new, improved Wisk ---- dislodging the dirt where it hides and whisking it away. I've spent most of my life believing this folklore. Like most blind believers, I've been able to discount all the facts to the contrary, the kitty odors that lurk in the corners of the garage and dirt smudges that cling to the throw rug by the fireplace. The time comes, however, when a man must face reality: when he must look squarely in the face of massive public sentiment to the contrary and announce: This cat smells like a port-a-potty on a hot day in Juarez. When that day arrives at your house, as it has in mine, I have some advice you might consider as you place your feline friend under your arm and head for the bathtub. Know that although the cat has the advantage of quickness and lack of concern for human life, you have the advantage of strength. Capitalize on that advantage by selecting the battlefield. Don't try to bathe him in an open area where he can force you to chase him. Pick a very small bathroom. If your bathroom is more than four feet square, I recommend that you get in the tub with the cat and close the sliding-glass doors as if you were about to take a shower. (A simple shower curtain will not do. A berserk cat can shred a three-ply rubber shower curtain quicker than a politician can shift positions.) Know that a cat has claws and will not hesitate to remove all the skin from your body. Your advantage here is that you are smart and know how to dress to protect yourself. I recommend canvas overalls tucked into high-top construction boots, a pair of steel-mesh gloves, an army helmet, a hockey face mask, and a long-sleeved flak jacket. Prepare everything in advance. There is no time to go out for a towel when you have a cat digging a hole in your flak jacket. Draw the water. Make sure the bottle of kitty shampoo is inside the glass enclosure. Make sure the towel can be reached, even if you are lying on your back in the water. Use the element of surprise. Pick up your cat nonchalantly, as if to simply carry him to his supper dish. (Cats will not usually notice your strange attire. They have little or no interest in fashion as a rule. If he does notice your garb, calmly explain that you are taking part in a product testing experiment for J.C. Penney.) Once you are inside the bathroom, speed is essential to survival. In a single liquid motion, shut the bathroom door, step into the tub enclosure, slide the glass door shut, dip the cat in the water and squirt him with shampoo. You have begun one of the wildest 45 seconds of your life! Cats have no handles. Add the fact that he now has soapy fur, and the problem is radically compounded. Do not expect to hold on to him for more than two or three seconds at a time. When you have him, however, you must remember to give him another squirt of shampoo and rub like crazy. He'll then spring free and fall back into the water, thereby rinsing himself off. (The national record for cats is three latherings, so don't expect too much.) Next, the cat must be dried. Novice cat bathers always assume this part will be the most difficult, for humans generally are worn out at this point and the cat is just getting really determined. In fact, the drying is simple compared to what you have just been through. That's because by now the cat is semi-permanently affixed to your right leg. You simply pop the drain plug with you foot, reach for your towel and wait. (Occasionally, however, the cat will end up clinging to the top of your army helmet. If this happens, the best thing you can do is to shake him loose and to encourage him toward your leg.) After all the water is drained from the tub, it is a simple matter to just reach down and dry the cat. In a few days the cat will relax enough to be removed from your leg. He will usually have nothing to say for about three weeks and will spend a lot of time sitting with his back to you. He might even become psychoceramic and develop the fixed stare of a plaster figurine. You will be tempted to assume he is angry. This isn't usually the case. As a rule he is simply plotting ways to get through your defenses and injure you for life the next time you decide to give him a bath. But at least now he smells a lot better.
Thursday, April 13, 2006SUCK ON THAT! Coff................splutter....................need I say more?
Tuesday, April 11, 2006WHEN WE WERE KIDSThis morning, Hubs copied my blog on Common Sense & put it on a rugby chat forum that he visits daily..............(thanks babe!) This is one of the posts in reply & I have to say, some of the things mentioned brought back so many memories for me. For anyone of my generation that grew up - or was dragged up - in England, I'm sure you'll be able to relate to many of the points made :-D When we were kids..... According to today’s regulators and bureaucrats, those of us who were kids in the 50’s, 60’s, 70’s and early 80’s probably shouldn’t have survived, because...... Our baby cots were covered with brightly coloured lead-based paint, which was promptly chewed and licked. We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, or latches on doors or cabinets and it was fine to play with pans. When we rode our bikes, we wore no helmets, just flip flops and fluorescent ’clackers’ on our wheels. As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags. Riding in the passenger seat was a treat or even better was stood between the front seats. We drank water from the garden hose and not from a bottle - tasted the same. We ate dripping sandwiches, bread and butter pudding and drank fizzy pop with sugar in it, but we were never overweight because we were always outside playing. We shared one drink with four friends, from one bottle or can and no one actually died from this. We would spend hours building go-carts out of scraps and then went top speed down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes. After running into stinging nettles a few times, we learned to solve the problem. We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back before it got dark. No one was able to reach us all day and no one minded. We did not have Playstations or X-Boxes, no video games at all. No 99 channels on TV, no videotape movies, no surround sound, no mobile phones, no personal computers, no Internet chat rooms. We had friends - we went outside and found them. We played elastics and street rounders, and sometimes that ball really hurt. We fell out of trees, got cut and broke bones and teeth, and there were no lawsuits. They were accidents. We learnt not to do the same thing again. We had fights, punched each other hard and got black and blue - we learned to get over it. We walked to friend’s homes. We made up games with sticks and tennis balls and ate live stuff, and although we were told it would happen, we did not have very many eyes out, nor did the live stuff live inside us forever. We rode bikes in packs of 7 and wore our coats by only the hood. Our actions were our own. Consequences were expected. The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke a law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law. Imagine that! This generation has produced some of the best risk-takers and problem solvers and inventors, ever. The past 50 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas. We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned how to deal with it all.
Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was, as his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as knowing when to come in out of the rain, why the early bird gets the worm, life isn't always fair, and maybe it was my fault. Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you earn) and reliable parenting strategies (adults, not children, are in charge). His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a six-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition. Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job they failed to do in disciplining their unruly children. It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer Aspirin, sun lotion or a sticky plaster to a student, but could not inform the parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion. Common Sense lost the will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband; churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims. Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar can sue you for assault. Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to realise that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement. Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents, Truth and Trust, his wife, Discretion, his daughter, Responsibility; and his son, Reason. He is survived by three stepbrothers; I Know My Rights, Someone Else Is To Blame and I'm a Victim. Not many attended his funeral because so few realised he was gone. If You still remember him, pass this on. If not join the majority and do nothing. This came in the form of an email to me, from a good friend in Scotland. I will pass it on as an email to other friends, but I thought it cetainly deserved to be put on my blog.
Sunday, April 09, 2006AWARDS PART 2. The First Carnation Award goes to Friends Reunited. I recently sent them an email about the hassles that users in the Middle East have, regarding their site, due to the 'dating' content. Folks who read Keefieboy's blog, will know of the trouble we've all had accessing the 'friends' site. I got hold of a human voice within the confines of Etisalat & was told that the friendsreunited website had been blocked, as it was deemed a 'dating' site & was therefore 'forbidden' under Islamic law. At least we got an explanation, so thumbs up for Etisalat for explaining, but a hefty dollop of camel dung to them for blocking a great website! Anyway, I digress............ I wrote to friendsreunited & explained the situation regarding the blocking of their website & in all honesty, I can say I truly never expected a reply to my email. I recieved the following a couple of days ago; Thanks for your email. I am sorry for the problems you are experiencing. Unfortunately it is not possible to remove the links from the site. May I suggest that you access FriendsReunited using the Asia URL, this does not have any tabs to the Dating site etc. http://www.friendsreunitedasia.com/ I hope this helps. Regards Erica http://www.genesreunited.com It's so nice to get feedback really! So for anyone who's having trouble logging in, the above site is another alternative.  My Second Carnation Award goes to a small(ish) clothing company in the UK, called Box 2. As mentioned in my previous mumblings, I've described myself as never having been 'little'. I was born big & have stayed that way ever since *sigh*. Buying clothes here in Abu Dhabi is very limiting for me. Female clothes from sizes 10-16 are no problem. For the likes of me (well I am cuddly y'know!) at size 20 (or 22 depending on its origin) buying clothes has been reduced to Evans or the South African Woolworths in Marina Mall. Both shops are great for casual, or smart casual. But I wanted something special, something 'posh' for want of a better word. I ran a search & came across this company called Box 2. I saw a stunning (doll) outfit, which I thought would suit me. I showed the picture to Hubs & he agreed, so cringing at the cost, I went ahead & sent an order by email. That was on a Saturday. On the following Monday, I received a phone call, from Nicky, at Box 2. She just wanted to offer some advice regarding the cut of the jacket I'd ordered & told me the price of courier fees, which I'd enquired about. My order would be dispatched the following day & would arrive probably on Friday. Well, taking into consideration Friday is like Sunday here, I didn't really expect any couriers that day. Last Saturday morning, the doorbell rang & there was a UPS chap, with my parcel from Box 2. What a pleasure! But then, I had to pay Dhs233 in 'customs duty', which wasn't a pleasure! That evening, with some trepidation, I tried my new outfit on. It fits perfectly & I feel very bloody smart in it, thank you very much! So Nicky of Box 2, sincere thanks for the personal attention you gave to a customer so far away. I shall certainly be buying more from you......as soon as Hubs gets over the heart failure he had when he saw the price tag..........................
 There are 2 recipients for each award this week. I'll start the awards off with the CACTUS............... The first goes to Asian Garden Restaurant, which is situated just over the road from where I live. I normally order a take-out meal once a week & to date, have never had a bad meal. The exception is Item number 158 on their menu; Beef with green pepper & chilli. Hubs really likes this, but for the past few weeks, whenever he's ordered it, it has arrived minus the chilli. The first time it happened, we passed it off as a mistake. The second time it happened Hubs bitched, understandably. The third time it happened, Hubs phoned them & complained most vehemently. The offer was made for someone to come & collect the order & re-deliver, complete with chillies. Hubs declined the offer & we went a couple of weeks before ordering again. I was liss* for Thai food again on Thursday, so we agreed to give Asian Garden one more go. I phoned my order through & placed great emphasis on there being chillies - as per the menu - on item 158. The good news is it arrived promptly & dunked my finger in the sauce to taste it, just to make sure Hubs wouldn't be disappointed again. I shall be requesting compensation for the damage done to my dentures & the extra space I had to use by putting numerous toilet rolls in the fridge overnight. Hubs enjoyed his meal, but I did hear the occasional muttering of "bastard.........put extra chillies in I bet!" Despite great food, fast delivery & an otherwise faultless service, it shouldn't have to take a verbal battering (with the option of a physical battering if they stuffed up again) to get them to supply the correct ingredients in a dish time & time again. Nuff sed.
The Second Cactus Award goes to the majority of so-called 'Real Estate' agents in Abu Dhabi. In a nutshell, you people are as much use as a handbrake on a canoe. Our circumstances will be changing soon, as Grandma is coming to live with us.....awwww. That means we have to look for a 3 bedroom apartment, or if the budget stretches, a villa. Chestertons website is full of bling, but they don't like to answer their phones AT ALL, no matter what time of day or night I've tried ringing them. The link to their email is 'down' i.e. it goes straight to 'error' & they don't advertise their actual email address. Blinding. Sealandz Property have a website, which they actively encourage people to visit in their newspaper advertisments. I did. When I enquired about certain properties they were advertising, they'd all mysteriously 'gone', but they naturally had more to offer at twice our budget. Yeah right. The person I spoke to was obviously driving his car, or was a passenger in the car & had no intention of turning down the radio in order to listen to me. I was polite enough to say "thanks", but was sorely tempted to call the person a fuckwit, amongst other things. KN Property also advertise in the good 'ole Gulf News. They've got heaps of properties, supposedly. Getting someone to speak English, in a manner that does not involve rigorous head wobbling whilst trying to clutch the phone between shoulder & ear would be a great help. I can speak & understand Afrikaans, quite a bit of Zulu, Fanagalo, Chichewa, some Japanese & French, but I'll be buggered if I must speak like a retard in order to get some attention from someone with little or no knowledge of the English language. I want details on properties, not "how much?" followed by "how much?" followed by "how much?". If you'd have asked me in a polite manner as to how much my budget was you dipshit, I would have answered you accordingly. Instead, all you kept asking was "how much?" like a stuck record. I hung up, without a "thank you". Finally, a Mohammed from Future View Properties phoned me this morning & will (HOPEFULLY!) be taking me to view an apartment this afternoon. He is the only one so far - that I've come across telephonically - that speaks English clearly & is actually helpful. With a bit of luck, he'll maybe get the Carnation award next week.................stay tuned!
* Liss is an Afrikaans word but used extensively by English speakers in S'Efrica..........it sort of means 'fancy'.......as in "I really fancied Thai food".
Thursday, April 06, 2006ME, MYSELF, I (Tagged)OK Sky, you tagged me & this is what you've got! I AM NOT: As miserable as I look. I LOVE: Making my husband laugh. I HATE: Paedophiles. I FEAR: Snakes! I HOPE: I get to see Chikkin more than a coupla times a year. I HEAR: Music in my head. I CRAVE: South African Gauloises Blondes. I REGRET: If you’ve got a coupla months & a good shrink to spare, I’ll tell ya. I CRY: At Hubs thoughtfulness. I CARE: About everyone who is close to me. I ALWAYS: Take my medication at night. I FEEL ALONE: Sometimes. I LISTEN: Again & again, before it sinks in. I HIDE: New clothes I sneak in……… I DRIVE: Myself to distraction. I DANCE: Like someone with a serious medical affliction. I WRITE: What I feel, but always re-read it. I ACT: As if something doesn’t matter, when I know it does. I MISS: My coffee mornings in Mua, Malawi……chatting to a good friend. I LEARN: Something new every day……..I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed. I FEEL: Lucky to have seen so much in life so far. I KNOW: Death is the only certain thing in life. I SLEEP: Without a care in the world. I love my perch! I WONDER: How the snow-plough driver gets to work when everywhere is snowed in. I WANT: A Rolls Royce with a bumper sticker that says Fuck The Poor I WORRY: About everything. I HAVE: Blue eyes. I FIGHT: The battle against anorexia every day. I think I’ve won. I NEED: Coffee & Gauloises in order to survive. I AM: Me. I THINK: It’s time I was certified as being totally NUTS!
Tuesday, April 04, 2006THE FINAL FRONTIER............ Right, no one has successfully guessed where the previous 2 'where is it?' photos are, so I'll put you all out of your misery tomorrow, if no one guesses in the meantime that is! This photo is the last in the series & is taken from another angle - to the right of the 'middle' photo posted. It is Hubs, with some Dumb Blonde clinging on for dear life.........just in case he felt tempted to nudge her......just that bit closer.......to the edge of the.....................ooops..........'nuff sed!!
Monday, April 03, 2006CHIKKIN UPDATE Do I look like my dad?  Do I look like my Mum?Or am I just gorgeous? :-))
Our special baby granddaughter is now 5 months old! The countdown is on - only another 6 weeks until we see her :-)
Shanna, my daughter-in-law, recently sent me her completed version of the following list of Q&A, so I thought, what the hell, I'll do mine & stick 'em on here.................so here's another heap of useless information about moi :-) What time did you get up this morning? 7.30am, before the alarm went off, but only cos I was bustin' to squeeze a kidney.... Diamonds or pearls? Diamonds doll (sed in her best kugel* whine) altho' I might be lucky enuff to get a pearl for the 30th wedding anniversary in December. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? Ummm......that animated filum about the likkle pigeons during the war awwww.....bugger, can't remember the name of it! What is your favourite TV show? Hmmm........gotta be Desperate Housewives, with Dr Phil a close 2nd. What do you usually have for breakfast? Muesli mixed with yogourt.......then spend the next 10mins getting bits out from under my teeth...... What is your favourite cuisine? Don't have a favourite as such, but enjoy Thai, Chinese & some Arabic meals. What is your middle name? Sheree What food do you dislike? Anything that still has its eyes in & looks back at me, meat, olives, asparagus. Instant vomit foods include boerewors** & black pudding aaaaarrrggghhhh What is your favourite CD at the moment? Il Divo - Ancora What kind of car do you drive? Here in Sandlands, I try not to drive, but if I must, it's a Ford Explorer 4Times4. When I'm home it's a BMW 530d Favourite sandwich? Cheese & Branston Pickle What characteristic do you despise? Closet racism. Favourite item of clothing? Ghanaian kaftan. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation? Anywhere in the world where I haven't been before.........Oz, Japan, Russia etc. What colour is your bathroom? Here it's white, beige & green. At home it's all white. Favourite brand of clothing? The newly discovered (for me) Frank Usher Where would you retire to? Gonubie*** or some little seaside village nearby What was your most memorable birthday? I've had that many I've forgotten................ Favourite sport to watch? Springbok Rugby Test matches + Cricket ODI's featuring the Proteas Furthest place you are sending this? Souf Efrica, Ireland, Scotland & Thailand. When is your birthday? 4th February Are you a morning person or a night person? When someone wakes me up, I'll let you know........ What is your shoe size? The same as my IQ = 8 Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with us? I'm going to see my son, my daughter-in-law & my oh so special granddaughter, plus my parents & grandma & Mungo in about 6wks time yippeeeeee! Am also planning a special holiday in Eygypt at the end of the year.......First Class travel & accommodation dahhhling, because my husband loves me & has put up with 30 odd years of crap from yours truly :-) What did you want to be when you were little? I've never been little. How are you today? Give up, is this a quiz show? OK, OK, I'm quite fine............I'm always quite fine......I think.......don't quote me on it tho'........... What is your favourite Chocolate? Any..........she says, trying not to drool.....................but not too keen on white choblit cos its too sweeeeet & gives me toothache! What is your favourite flower? Hmmmm........roses, frangipani blossom, freesias & jasmine blossom. What date on the calendar are you looking forward to? 14th May 2006 & 18th December 2006 Are you married? You wouldn't chuckle.............. Do you enjoy your job? If being a housewife is defined as a job, then I s'pose so, cos I'm my own boss so I can't get fired! Favourite read? Just about anything by Terry Pratchett, Tom Sharpe & Barbara Kingsolver. * Kugel is a South African female who normally talks in a nasally whine with a gross exaggeration of the typical accent. She'll hail from the 'better' suburbs of the city, drive the latest Mercedes, wear designer clothes, perfumes, shoes etc & have 2.4 children who do extra ballet, horseriding, golf, tennis lessons etc. in order to keep up with the Bothas's next door. Hubby will be grey by the age of 30, smoke spliff on the quiet, frequent discreet brothels, max out every credit card possible & take out a 2nd bond (mortgage) to pay the 1st one. He will swear at the maid if she hasn't cleaned his golf shoes, but like his wife, expect the maid to raise his children, because after all, he's working so many long hours to pay for her.............blah blah blah ** Boerewors are beastly looking sausages, normally sold in a coiled fashion, of at least one metre in length. They contain ingredients such as bits of cow meat, pig meat, sheep meat, kudu meat, gemsbok meat, cat meat, the odd cockroach, several flies, spices to disguise, breadcrumbs, minced fat & sawdust. They are normally cooked on a braai, which in other languages is a barbeque/BBQ. Black pudding is congealed pigs blood, compacted into a black coloured skin (like a sausage skin) & is normally fried. It is utterly disgusting, altho Hubs likes it. There's mention of it somewhere in Keefieboy's blog as well. He eats the stuff as well, so his description is no doubt far more tasty than mine! ***Gonubie is a small town about 12km from East London/Buffalo City/WeHaven'tDecidedWhatTribalNameToGiveItYet in the Eastern Cape, South Africa. If you look at a map & see Cape Town, follow the coast down & the next town is Port Elizabeth, followed by East London & almost 700km further on, Durban.
Sunday, April 02, 2006COMPUTERS MADE EASY    Now if they labelled the bits like this, I could build my own computer!
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