P-p-p-p-p-p-pandas p-p-p-p-ponderings on an icy afternoon

I have invested in fingerless gloves to enable me to carry on with my typing love affair this winter. I have managed to tear myself away from the happy furnace that is my bedroom, pulled out my VERY last season boots with a hole in the toe (they are my favourite don’t judge) and drag myself to the nearest coffee shop for rooibos cappuccinos.

Here are some of my frozen thoughts melting quick enough to get onto my laptop now that I have some caffeine in my system.

·         Beijing. Yes. I am putting on my hypothetical blue suede shoes (I would never be caught in real life blue suede) and boarding SAA flight whatever to China on Friday. I think I may pee myself.  I am making a trip to the Great Wall of China and when I set foot up on there I am going to yell through the mist  “quick Mushu, the Huns are here!!” and grab hold of a Chinese lantern and pretend to slide down the side of the wall just like Mulan did. And then I will probably be arrested and thrown into a slimy prison and have to hand over my Wonderbra in exchange for a cigarette.

·         It is strange that in all fairytales, the happy ending involves finding true love and marrying a prince. Not Mulan. She saved China, got a medal and brought honour to her family. I think this black sheep will stick with finding true love; I am not exactly equipped to save my country. Unless I marry Zuma. I’ll be his fifth wife and the wife that can change the course of the future. Oh but I’ll have to wear orange ethnic dresses by Amanda Laird Cherry or some shit. Never mind. I’ll stick to what I know and fashionably find a boyfriend rather.

·         Applying for jobs is a lot more intense than I thought. I had to write an entry piece on gambling to submit after an interview so I decided to take myself along to Monte Casino and be a keen observer. It got me thinking how life is exactly like a casino. Especially in a game of hearts. I always take a gamble on my heart, and I will always choose risk over regret. I am very drawn to the sexy seduction of the slot machines – I can never decide if I am playing them or if they are playing me. And in my opinion, this is just like love. Large payouts and dates tempt me through a dry spell and next thing I know, I am caught up in the most pleasurable frenzy of risk. Sometimes I win and get the guy, sometimes I loose. But I never regret. Except when I drink too many free drinks at the Roulette table. Then I do regret it the next day.

·         Apparently a woman who was trying to commit suicide flung herself off the Eiffel Tower, landed on a car and then married the man whose car she fell on. I’m just saying that this is the most fucked up but possible most romantic love story of our day and age. She literally fell in love. Or on love.

·         I think the sign of true love is if you have a sickly cute love story to tell your grandchildren one day. Thinking back on my past I am beginning to see a disheartening pattern that doesn’t bode well for my future story-telling. “So kids, this one time I was very drunk and I kissed this guy and he introduced me to this other guy I kissed who then introduced me to another guy I also kissed who introduced me to your father.” My “How I met your mother” is dismally short and blurry.

·         On the weekend my friend asked me to do a fashion shoot for her end of year range in town. Yes! At first I thought that this could be my break. It was finally here. Someone would discover me and I would be that shmodel who was found in Africa and signed at a matured fine wine age. However, trudging down the Newtown streets in fishnets, giggling like a child and attempting a pout with a nervous lip twitch, I realized the BIG reality of the situation – I am no model. Sure I had a cigarette in my mouth and was demanding wine so I had that part down, but compared to the other girls, I had eaten one too many cotton wool balls that day.  I think this winter I’ll stick with my MacDonald’s junior chicken burger with extra mayo meal. Large please. Oh and with extra MacFeast sauce. Thank you.

·         The medical term for brain freeze is “sphenopalatine ganglioneuralgia”. Try saying that with a mouthful of bubblegum ice cream.

So now that it is winter it is officially ok to wear fleece and wear cute, warm and fuzzy panda things. So here are some of the things on my shopping list that I am going to buy in China this weekend and i'll come back a real panda yay.

This panda is saying goodbye. Or rather 再见 Zàijiàn

 



Pre-weekend Panda ponderings

My alter ego is panda is still alive. She has not been swallowed by the Joburgian monster called stress. In actual fact, rather than being consumed, this panda has been consuming. Lindt Lindt Lindt Lindt Lindt! I fear that I haven’t had anything to say of late because I can’t talk with my mouth so full of chocolate. But nevertheless, here are a few of my pre-weekend thoughts that have come to light now that I can think clearly once the sugar cloud in my brain has subsided.

·         I don’t like Zooey Deschanel. Bite me. At first glance I can see the appeal. Thick waterfall fringe covering mysterious fairy pool eyes. Monotone voice that is seemingly emotionless but conceals apparent depth. Cute bows in hair – any girl who wears bows in her hair gives off that cute, ditsy, arty, freak in the bed vibe. Trail of men after her because she won’t run after them. Oh and she never cries. Guys dig that. At second glance all I see is a girl that can’t see out of her eyes, who has no vocal variety, who feels nothing and who mysteriously avoids commitment. Conclusion – she is a man.

·         I love the fact that my friends know me so well. And I hate it equally. When someone knows your expressions, different laughs, different smiles and social responses as well as they know their own, it is hard to put on a masquerade. And sometimes a masquerade is all your want.

·         On the other hand, when that same friend who knows you so well, picks you up before you even get chance to fall, you realize how grateful you are to have found the one person who can see into your soul because it is the other half of theirs.

·         Friday the 13^th. I’m flying under the radar so far. Please see Post-weekend Panda ponderings entry to see if I managed to avoid being a target.

·         I have officially declared that my dad is the strangest but most exceptional man that I have ever known. At 65, he embraced the family karaoke evening by lying down on stage singing “Chasing cars” by Snow Patrol re-enacting the music video, while my brother played and acoustic drum solo in the background. Can I highlight the fact that he was wearing Steve Maddon shoes and a Forever 21 shirt? He is a cool dad Regina.

·         I am rather obsessed with Greg Laswell “The one I love” at the moment. It is a long car drive, sun beating down on my head, what am I doing with my life, sing a long and feel eerily lost but at peace kind of song. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VagADNMyJuk

·         I plan to go watch Henry Ate at Tanz café tonight - http://www.henryate.com/. They are a nostalgic connection to my past when I used to listen to them with my first young love, Michael Erasmus, a brilliant artist and heart capturer with a pony tail and phenomal eyebrows.  I plan to pop open the wine, sit in solitude listening to the mind-blowingly sad song “Just” as I wallow in self pity and then try find someone to kiss.

·         I always wonder at the term “Rose tinted glasses.” I don’t like roses very much– I think a rose is a rather ominously sad flower. If a rose was a person I imagine her have raven hair, pale skin, red, wet lips and black eyes. A beautiful disaster. A rose scares me. Give me Barberton daisies. A daisy is the girl next door. I want daisy tinted glasses.

·         I now have my first follower on my bog – Carly Barnes – writer of the epically rad blog http://heelzandhangovers.blogspot.com/. I am a baby blogger and get inspiration from people like her J

4 coffee's down, looming wee pressing - literally pressing please no one push my stomach.

This panda is going to stop pondering and put on her peep toes to join the social Joburg nightlife parade.

Panda ponderings

• If only life was as simple as putting paint on yourself and recreating your entire existance. I feel like someone rather magic on the inside but, i can't seem to be that on the outside. Everything that I want and am passionate about seems to be on the verge of a sort of big bang inside my brain. And i hope that when the big bang inside me does happen that it will be beautiful. And I hope that then I can look at myself and say what I feel is what I am... and then i will be my favourite thing.

• I am absolutely in love with the band “Gypsy and the cat”. Love love love! I love beautifully strange lyrics that don’t make much sense. Their music makes me want to lie naked on a slowly spinning bed and look up at a limitless black sky.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1XOWSfj-mtA

• I love and loathe the internet equally. I love the absolutely mindblowing ideas you see from people all around the world... and loathe it because I didn't think of them first. I love the vast array of amazing "take my money!" things you can buy... and I loathe the fact that I am reminded of how broke I am when i see these things. I love the places I see - the soft white stretches of beach, the playful cocktails, the happy swaying palms - and i loathe the fact that I am cooped up in an office like a budgie.

• If Hello's are hard, and goodbye's even harder then when is it ever easy

• I saw a girl today and she reminded me of a unicorns and bubblegum. Her hair was baby pink and wild like a mane down her back. She was wearing turquoise high waisted bubble shorts paired with a plain tee with a rainbow on it. I wanted to throw my magical styling lasso around her, drag her to Elle magazine and shout and scream at them until they do a feature on her.

• I have realized that no matter how much passion and drive you may have for something; at the end of the day “flair” is what makes you good in a creative career. You either have it or you don’t. Simple.

Panda's don't like red

I was luckily enough to be celebrating national sex and rose’s day (Valentines day) with my best friend Sarah (@soapy_soul)– the trending hashtag between us being #foreveralonetogether.

Our merlot stained lips were never silent for more than a minute –love, exes, relationships, jobs, family, heels, and life. And I can honestly say it was the best valentines night I could have asked for. There is nothing better than the person you care bout more than anything in this world sitting with you on a day that celebrates love.

Here are some of my panda ponderings this valentines day:

•  I am sure there were high numbers of people having sex to Whitney Houston’s “I will always love you” – why not celebrate death and love together – killing two love birds with one stone.

• ·         I think that people in relationships actually enjoy valentines a lot less than single people. Singletons expect nothing and therefore cannot be disappointed. Although I still can’t believe that Dean from accounts didn’t at least wish me a happy valentines day. I will not smile enticingly at him next time he walks past my desk

• ·         My mom is magic. She knows that the perfect way to my heart is not through heart shaped chocolates with red shiny foil. It is through red coloured denim skinnies. I was a vision in skin-tight red yesterday, thank you mom.

• ·         I actually don’t like dates. I don’t like pre-date shaving, I don’t like the fact that I always show up late for dates, I don’t like the do-I-hug-him-or-kiss-him hello, I don’t like wandering if my meal is too expensive, I don’t like worrying about salad/spinach in my teeth and I especially don’t like the fact that I don’t get asked out on dates to worry about these things. 

• ·         Everydate I am bill shuffling. After taking a poll amongst my friends I found out that I am the only one that still bill shuffles. Maybe I am amongst the rare few but I think it is a sweet gesture to offer. Heaven help me if he really takes me up on it because my bank balance by this time is usually R0.23 and then I naturally wouldn’t have had prawns. But of course this only happens when I am asked out on a date. That is why maybe I am not up to date on bill etiquette.

·          My best friend dropped a dumpling in her lap when taken to a fancy restaurant - The Orient in Rosebank – on a date. The guy never called again. I don’t understand that. If a lap dumpling isn’t enough to break the tension then I don’t know what is.

·         One thing I learnt yesterday – even if you think it is cute tying a red bow around your cats neck and tweeting it… it is not. Dear future catwoman spinster (ie me)- Refrain from doing this next year if you want to keep your followers

• ·         I think valentines day presents are boring. Maybe I am geeky but get me the below instead and I will sex you madly all night:

Realistic Gummy hearts - because valentine heart jellies are too mainstream

In fashion i feel like my tape measure is the noose I wear around my neck every day. But for this amazing necklace shucks I would wear my noose proudly. If you want to measure up to my standars of gift giving - buy me this!!

Please, for Heavens sake don't set the mood with candles. I am clumsy and therefore it is a fire hazard. Get me a gummy night light. It sets the mood and is teddy bear shaped. Plus i am afraid of the dark slightly so get me this and I won't spoon you so tightly. Win-win for you.

I am a girl. I love chocolate but I don't want to pick up extra kilos because then I won't want to get naked. This will effect you negatively. So rather just get me chocolate spray.

However. If you do get me chocolate - get me this. Oh please oh please oh pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease

Panda Ponderings

“We spent our whole lives being told that blanket forts are only for special occasions, like sleepovers, or when uncles die. But that’s a lie, Annie. You can live in a fort of blankets all day every night.” -Troy (Community)

·          Snooze is the worst invention ever. Snooze is the lover in your bed that cuddles you closer and says “just a few more minutes”

• ·         The favourite time is tea time with my best friend –Sometimes the thing I enjoy most is talking about the same old thing with the same old person. There is certainly a calming beauty in boredom

• ·         I think the reason I am still single is because I draw dogs on my boobs in marker. Woof.

• ·         The best part of a kiss is the split second before it happens

• ·         When there is a red sunrise I hope I am not the only one to say “blood has been spilt this night”

• ·         There is nothing sweeter than splattered speckles on a girl’s nose.

• ·         There’s only so long you can get by unnoticed in a group political conversation without exposing yourself. Apparently a caucus is not a plant or a food group.

• ·         My idea of a perfect date is talking for hours in a blanket and duvet fort equipped with wine and sweets.

• ·         Daniel Radcliffe is dead sexy. And I say dead sexy because he defied death. Twice. That’s how sexy!

• ·         Sometimes I think Fairytales were written when drunk – I also kiss strangers at midnight, loose shoes and use forks to brush my hair when I have had a few too many

Yes please I’ll have another glass of Wine and whine

As another Monday comes to an end, I find my mind is once again racing with thoughts from the day:

·         Monday – a word that evokes fear and loathing all over world, and in all languages. One seventh of our life is spent surviving Mondays and the other 6 spent dreading its return. I sometimes wonder why there was no villain created in comics and movies called “Mean Monday” or something– probably because he would have won in any battle.  Sadly there is no cure, but there is a way to diminish Monday symptoms – wine. The sweet smoothness of wine passing through the body, numbing all the corporate aches in the mind and in the typing-at-my-desk-all-day-elbows.

• ·        The Superbowl is silly. I say that because everyone keeps talking about guacamole statistics and Im ravenous. Admittedly though, this is probably the one time I wish I was American. I would love to be sitting in a bar in downtown New York, pouring rivers of Budweiser over myself and everyone in celebration, singing songs with friends and shouting hysterically in jubilation over a win. There is something beautiful about mass hype. And then I remember one very important thing: with mass hype, comes mass(ive) hangover. And then I am suddenly grateful that I did not have to experience an American Monday.

Superbowl food stadium

• ·         I am tired of cunctators. For those of you who don’t know what it means, clearly tells me that you do not listen to Gareth Cliff. In which case dishonour on you. I dislike Gareth haters more than I dislike cunctators.  

• ·         I don’t understand why everyone hates rain. I like the eerie calm that settles over Joburg after the rain – the thick fog that blankets the high-rise buildings, the dim flashing red of traffic light that are out with the faint sound of car hooters breaking the silence. However I only want to be an innocent observer. The only time I want to be in the middle of the rain is if someone is kissing me… any takers? No? ok.

• ·          Joburg people are too angry. If only there was an iphone game for “angry joburgians” - I would especially like to swing Hadida Birds at Joburg driver. “Killing 2 joburgians with one bird?” One can only dream.

• ·         I want to invent a contraption that prevents bruising on one’s elbows when one has a desk job. Currently my elbows are showing signs of wear and tear - I like to tell people it’s from floor sex but unfortunately I am branded by a corporate symbol of hard work and a God awful lot of daily typing. So far my quick fix solution has been to sit with dishcloths tied with elastic bands to my elbows. Very effective albeit highly unfashionable considering I work in fashion.

Bottle of wine is finished therefore my whine too must come to an end.

Goodnight Moody Monday!