So I asked for Good News to be sent to me so I could share it with everyone, and make all your teeth hurt with the sticky sweetness of it all! And although pickings were slim, and some of you are really strange, here is your DAILY TREACLE!

HEADLINES:

* Eyeball eating birds ATTACK!
* Baby Born without 3 eyeballs on forehead
* Midget saves herd of sheep from Crazed South African

Eyeball eating birds ATTACK!

The world was saved today by a good Samaritan, who put himself in the face of danger to save us whilst we unknowingly went on with our daily business. Reports confirm that at approximately 2:36pm, 3 (highly trained ninja) birds were spotted singing sweetly on a window sill (bystanders confirmed koomba-yaaa was being sung) when the aforementioned good Samaritan decided to put us all out of our misery and slam the window shut ending the lives of the 3 singing torturers and bringing to an end an attack which could have led to many tears and much camp fire singing.

Reports stated (After PETA complained) that autopsies confirmed that the 3 singing birds were of the hillbilly inbred make and model and would definitely have eaten our eyeballs if the good Samaritan had not saved us.

Baby born without 3 eyeballs on forehead

A healthy baby was born in South Africa recently despite reports by the British media, slamming ALL South African babies as being savages and barbarians, born for the sole purpose of making bad political decisions and having an almost psychic knowledge of what tourists look like, for the day when they can take part in “Kill a tourist day”.

This miracle is two-fold, because not only was this South African baby not born wearing a loin cloth and waving a panga, but has 10 fingers, 10 toes and only 2 eyes in it’s head. Rubbishing previous claims that there was enough oestrogen / raw sewage / Jik household cleaner being pumped into South Africa’s drinking water, that no babies born to South Africans would ever look like normal babies ever again.

Midget Saves flock of sheep from crazed South African

A Midget came to the rescue of a flock of sheep today when he noticed a naked crazed-looking South African chasing after them in a field yelling “But I love youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu, please stand stilllll…”

“I was just shocked… I didn’t know what to do, but then my circus training kicked in and I rushed the perp. Kicked him right on his shin and bit the first thing that I saw infront of me, sending him yowling away in tears…”

A Representative of Sheep Shaggers Anonymous had the following to say: “We have this problem on a regular basis, sheep buggery has been around for a long time. The real problem however, is that when the sheep light up their cigarettes afterwards, you can never really get that smell out of their wool. Who wants to buy a jersey that smells like Malboro’s. So (Anonymous) has done us a great favour in chasing away this offender, and we will be keeping him in willy warmers for the rest of his life.”

Damn that was hard. You hate me!

Definitely making shit up tomorrow!

I really should have had Cheerios for breakfast this morning. It would be an understatement to say that I am thoroughly depressed after reading the news today. A feeling I am sad to say I have after reading the news everyday!

Today would also not be the first time I have said that I am going to stop reading the damn news because it makes me want to hang myself from the rafters by fish hooks up my nostrils!!

· Kids killed by celeb while drag racing
· Farm murders
· Earthquakes
· Rapes

Are we honestly saying that there is absolutely NO good news anywhere? Why are we only being bombarded with the awful, the sad, the horrific! I want that warm and squishy feeling in my stomach for a change dammit!

NO, I am not blind, or hiding, or in denial. I don’t think I am alone in that I am sick to death of just seeing the bad.

Where are the puppies, and the balloons, and the stories about a child being given a loving home. Instead of just always being bombarded with stories like “2 Men stab each other to death with HB pencils after fighting over who gets to shag their mothers goat first”.

So I went in search of some good news. Sadly, not much to be found. I DID find a site called “South Africa – The Good News” (www.sagoodnews.co.za) which is great if you’re looking for that feel good feeling being generated by your country! But no happy bunnies running in a forest here.

I want personal stuff! Stuff that’s going to tickle me pink and make me laugh out loud and make me feel that we still have good people out there, that good things still happen! So I am going to make it my personal vendetta, a mission so to speak, to make everyone smile, to laugh out loud till your coffee comes out of your nose with all the fecking good news I am going to find for you!

And if I don’t find any, I am going to make it UPPPPPP!

So if you have any good news, I want it. If you found a lint covered jellytot in your pocket that’s been in there for 6 months but it still smacked of that nyom nyom strawberry flavour, I want that story!

If you were NOT killed by a frozen chunk of wee expelled by a plane on it’s way to Uzbekhistan today and you feel damn grateful for that, I want to know!

Stupid, warm, heartfelt or funny, please send me your good news and stories, so I can embellish the hell out of it, and make someone feel warm and squishy today.

Yes, this is a challenge. Yes, send this to everyone you know.

Please send your stories to cheerynews@gmail.com (Do not make me have spent the last 20 minutes registering this name on gmail for nothing, cause it was a pain in the arse I assure you. You have no idea how many people out there have named themselves: “happbunny”)

So I nearly lost an eye this weekend! There I am… sleeping sweetly like a princess (hand on forehead, lips slightly parted looking all vulnerable like – as opposed to my usual ogre look with the drewl coming down my chin) when I decide to turn over (to be fair my turn over was less princess-like and more jump around and twist in the air like a Cirque du Soleil acrobat) and THWACK! I get a slap right in the eyeball!

Ooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww, my eyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyye! (Cue vigorous drama queen wailing and hand slapped over eye as if I am literally having to hold my eyeball inside it’s socket).

Dalekins looking horrified!

Tash (looking horrified): You slapped me!!!

Dalekins (WAS looking horrified – now that he sees my eyeball is infact NOT hanging by a vein or muscle or whatever the feck holds them in there, is now starting to piss himself laughing)

*narfy face*

Dalekins: I did NOT! You were turning around, AS I was about to put my arm around you!

Tash: But… but… you slapped me!

Dalekins: I DIDN’T!! You… face-fived me!

…. I face-fived him. *shakes head* too funny

Anyhoo onto another topic! I am one of those women who can handle herself in the kitchen (I don’t set shit on fire) but am very much an average student!

No, contrary to popular belief when girls are born we do NOT come out of the womb holding a spatula ready to scramble and frik-a-zee shit!

Boil eggs, spag-bol, frozen fish… now THAT I can handle. Crème Brulee’s and souffle’s are born in the Woolies factory, not in my kitchen! (God Bless your cotton socks Woolworths). So no, Dalekins is not dying of malnutrition and rickets just yet! But do not expect me to know how to “fold” stuff… and what’s that other stupid term smartarse cooks like to use..? Ah yes… blanch! Blanch. What the fuck is that supposed to meeeeeeeean! Why don’t they just say boil quickly and then put in cold water!! (I only know that now because I farking GOOGLED it!!)

Keep it simple stupids!!! Easy terms are manageable like “stir-fry”. Look, I am stirring. And it’s Frying. No brainer there, just the way I like it

But I did something this weekend that smacks of smartarseyness and would make Martha Stewart want to kiss me right on my BOTTOM! *smug smile* And I am going to share it with you because I do believe that there are more people like me out there, men and women who when hearing the term “Blanch” think of that slutty old bird from the Golden Girls and NOT of boiling things quickly pfffft!

So the next time you’re having a braai, here is an awesome Braai desert! And it’s feck easy to make! Men, if you are usually only in charge of throwing the chops on the braai and then covering it in beer throughout the process (they say to marinate, I say they misjudged the flame size and people are starting to complain about the burnt-hair-smell) then this is for you too! If you go into the kitchen and tell wifey “Oh honey, I’ll handle desert today” I reckon you may just get lucky later! (Don’t say I never do anything for you!)

So anyways, get some bananas, and a slab of wholenut chocolate. Peel one piece of the peel off (leave the rest on). Make a slit down the middle of the banana, and fill with the chocolate blocks (be generous – chicks love chocolate *wiggles eyebrows*) wrap up in foil till it looks like a shiny willy and tadaaaa, put on the braai for 10 minutes, turn once and serve!

Nyom nyom! (Um, don’t eat the peel)

See now… the only issue I had making this was the farking FOIL!

Foil perturbs me.

How can I know words like “perturbs” and yet not know which side of the effing foil is the shiny side! I HATE YOU FOIL!! And why God whyyyy does it matterrrr! “For roasting ensure shiny side UP”

Oh poke it up your bum!

I always cheer for the underdog, and both sides are silver, and shinyyyyyy!!!! I can check my make-up in BOTH sides! Am I meant to choose one above the other!!

Oh I am thoroughly amused.

I decided to gander over to Google Analytics to have a bit of a looksey at my blogs stats. (I like looking at graphs and pie charts and making comments like “there’s been hike in the stats” well, because it makes me sound feck clever, and is a vast improvement on my usual “look that big colored circle thing looks like a cheesecake with slices out of it” …. hmmm… cheesecakkkkke.

Anyhoo, so I happened to notice that one of my posts was getting quite a few clicks, and here’s why:

Keywords typed into search engine: “THREESOME” blog

Now this I find freaking heee-larious because if you’ve read my posts, erm, you’ll know my threesome post was not exactly about 3 people bumping uglies in the moonlight. No, no, alas, the pussy featuring in my story, was of the actual “feline” variety, and was about how Dalekins and I have to share our bed with him or he shreds us to bits!

How sad those people must have been, using all that energy to search for threesome stories.. finding my blog. Success! Putting on some soft music (or that cheesy 80’s porno base guitar kinda music “bow chicka bow bow”) Getting the tissues and hand lotion ready next to their computers and settling in for a nice long … um. Read.

And then desperately trying to MAKE my post be about an actual threesome when they start to cotton on to the fact that I am actually talking about our cat.

So by cat she definitely must be talking about va-jay-jay, and by “snoring” she must be meaning “grunting with pleasure”! Hey… they have to trrrrrry, they’ve wasted atleast R10 worth of vaseline lotion on their hands already!

God in heaven! That kind of stuff will get you locked up by the po-po and get you a hefty fine with the SPCA you dirty dirty fiends!

Soooo I thought I would be a smart arse and add lots of porn titles to my blog and see HOW MANY OF YOU PORN lovers HAVE GOTTEN THIS FAR IN TO MY BLOG by now thinking I’m about to talk all hot and heavy like *snicker*

Oh no no I really am about to.. please stay *flutters lashes*

I found some very provocative titles for your perusal *wiggles eyebrows*:

Gangbangs of New York
On Golden Blonde
How Stella Got Her Tube Packed
In Diana Jones and the Temple Poon
Saturday Night Beaver
Sick Degrees of Penetration
Legally Boned
Throbin Hood (Prince of Beaves)
When Harry Ate Sally
Romancing The Bone
Lord Of The G-Strings
White Men Can’t Hump
Ocean’s 11 inches
Edward Penishands

Bye now, I’m off to go watch “Free my Willy”…

*wipes a tear* that Willy gets me everytime….

It’s Friday.

There’s only one thing for us to do.

I am 33 years old. Turty Tree and a Turd.

Yes, I regularly bathe in Llama placenta and L’Oreal anti-wrinkle cream.

However, I don’t think I have felt more immature in my whole life. Maybe immature is not the right word. Lets make it… playful.

Do you remember how we used to play when we were 10 years old? I would love to do that again! Things are just way too serious now. And no, I cannot live vicariously through my children because I don’t have any anklebiters! (Can you grow them in a Petri dish yet? Not? Ok, still not interested!)

We used to play Red Light/Green Light! Baha what a daft game… I tried this the other day. I yelled “RED LIGHT!” *points at feet* at someone randomly walking down the passage, at first they looked alarmed like a deer in the headlights, then they just looked at me like I was retarded and kept walking… well they did a funny walk / run thing! “Oiiiiiii I said that was a red light you eeeeejit!!” *walks off shaking head disgusted like*

And kissing touches, remember that! Chasing each other around trying to avoid the dreaded smooch! And when the boy you liked was “on” you’d run a bit slower like an injured giraffe (just as graceful – see previous post if you don’t belieffffff!). See now, you couldn’t play that with random people now without:

a) Being at a party where you have to put your car keys in a hat
b) Landing your arse in divorce court! Or,
c) Ending up with a serious case of herpes

Cops and Robbers! Lurrrrved it! Upon hindsight now though, I would definitely change the noise my gun used to make. Mine was a real pissy “peeuw peeuw” … now after being FORCED at gun point by Dalekins to play Call of Duty, I reckon I would do a bit of a mix-up “dadadadada-da-da-da” *tosses grenade* dadadadadadada…. *blows down barrel* (Tough being a cop these days – apparently grenades are needed?)

I remember how my friend David and I used to play. We used to climb on the roof all the time and “spy” on people. We were sure the neighbour was a dodgy murderer! As you do. Now…? You’d get up there, after much grunting (and inwardly thinking that you are almost 100% sure you have arthritis in your bum) and say “God in heaven when last were these gutters cleaned!” and that’s just before you’d fall straight through your roof tiles and break your head!

I remember us painting something once, can’t imagine what though seen as we were like erm 8 (who would put 8 year olds in charge of painting anything I ask you! So we either FOUND something random to paint, think it was a drawer, ORRRRR I am starting to have flashbacks of being sold into slavery by my parents to the Dulux factory!! (remind me to investigate that!).

Anyhoo, I delicately touched the tip of my small paintbrush that was now full of white sticky paint onto Davids arm and thought this was hee-larious. David then promptly took the big roller HE had been using and rolled it right down my face.

*blink*

*blink*

Now let me give you a tip here: Paint + Face + Turpentine = MY FACE IS ON FIRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRE!!!!!

Now if you did that today, with the paint we have now, your face probably WOULD catch fire!

Hide-and-Seek! Maaaan we used to play that ALL the time, and in one small little bedroom, 5 kids could easily evade being spotted. Now I can’t even pretend to hide behind a curtain without Dalekins saying “your bum cheeks sticking outtttttttt!” Pffffft.

I want to play in the mud again.

Let’s get back to that…

So apparently if you want to make money from your blog, you must blog about something you’re good at. Something other people will find helpful. Like em, tips maybe? (Never bath with a plugged in toaster)… that, or I fear I may have to flash my bits.

Um that may have come out wrong. I don’t mean that if you bath with a plugged in toaster THAT I am going to show you my bits. I mean, that was a tip… or another way of making money would be to flash my bits… there was a pause. Ohhhh what would it matter if I did flash anyway, you would have popped your clogs if you were jacuuzing with a squillion volts and wouldn’t see anything anyways so I digresssssss!

God I’m screwed.

I’m not good at anythinggggggggggggggg *stomps feet*

I don’t even have a hobby! No really.

I saw a psychologist years back, who asked me to list all the hobbies that I have. I smiled like a loon and thought “Oh Gods out of all the psychologists I could have picked, I had to pick the one with a scrapbooking business on the side!! I don’t want to buy a pop out sticky thing that spells out my name!! I want to know why I sometimes have this compulsion to push people down the escalatorssssssssssss!” (Ok not really – You’re perfectly safe in my company *twitch*)

So anyhoo, what am I good at. Zippo. Niks. Nada.

Balls! I am doomed to mediocrity!

Lets try make a list shall I:

· I can do this really funny trick with my baby toes, I can wiggle them about independently (I reckon I could be a foot pianist!) – So maybe a youtube video!? Pay me R500 and I’ll wiggle my little toe, just for you *wiggles eyebrows* (I feel dirty all of a sudden and I don’t know why!)
· I can make farty noises with my armpits (this took serious bath time to learn I’ll have you know!) There MUST be a market for this, it’s a classic! Lessons perhaps?
· I have a very expressive face? (No this is not a nice way of saying I look like Frankenstein) But what use, what use is this I ask!!! Pffft. Facial Muscle yoga?
· IcantypewithoutputtinginspacesandstillreadwhatIwrote (You know what I just noticed! When you are taught punctuation in school, our teacher always taught us that a “comma” is a pause, so “hold your breathe”. Fook me, this explains why I nearly always pass out when reading badly written stuff…! And maybe also why I’m a bit slow?)
· I can ALMOST Hulla Hoop … well I’ve managed to keep it up… once. WHY IS IT SO HARD!!!! I will OWN you you stupid hulla-hoop!
· I do a fantastic impression of a giraffe walk (only when I wear high heels though – Ye, no ramp modelling for me. And that’s the ONLY reason ofcourse) So tips on how to walk gracefully? Shurrup… I love giraffe. I reckon they look graceful as all feck!
· I do an AWESOME evil demonic girly voice (always gives Dalekins the ubercreeps and gives him goosebumps *evil snicker*) Not very useful though is it… unless you want to scare the be-jay-zuz out of someone.

I still have 3 fingers left to count on!!! What the hell!

See what I mean. I am screwed. *sighs*

Oh my word, I just did it again. I held my breath while reading that sentence!

I’m tired.

Its 3:06am and I wish I could say that it was the loud bang outside that woke me up, but the truth is is that it’s the noise in my head thats had me awake since 2am. Lucky me eh?

What am I lying awake thinking about this morning? Sadly for me this time, not cheese.

I’m thinking, when is enough… enough?

Heavy for so early. Isn’t that when we all do most of our thinking about the crap though? No? Just me? Surely not.

I was talking to a friend the other day and he told me about a movie he had watched where everyone HAD to be honest with eachother…all of a sudden. Tell the truth, in EVERY sitution, no matter what.

Yes, you would really have to tell your girlfriend that her bum DOES look big in those jeans and she should lay off the chocolate.

God. Can you imagine how awful that would really be? Now, none of us likes being lied to. As a matter of fact, it’s a pet peeve of mine. But, we all lie, every single day, because we’re nice that way. We lie to save feelings. We lie because to tell the truth would be too much for some people and situations to handle. So we sway what we say to keep the flow smooth. And yes I mean… within reason.

That’s tiring as all fuck and I can honestly say I am bone weary for doing this on a daily basis.

So when do we ever get to that point where we say, “you know what, not today. No more”.

We’re very strong. It takes a lot.

Is it when you want to just put your head down on your desk at work, and cry, because to have to do this one thing that you hate so much for another minute will make you want to lose your mind. That you have to literally put your hand over your mouth to stop the words from spilling out. Is it enough then? No. I’ll come in tomorrow and do the voodoo that I do and I’ll do it well. Why? Because I need the money and the job, and thats life. I have bills to pay and I don’t know what else to do. No Dr Phil moment there. It just is what it is.

So I’ll plaster a smile on my face and carry on because God forbid should any of us voice the frustration, because to do that will be frowned upon because “we’re meant to be grateful for everything we have” remember? Remember that there are people out there who are so much more worse off than you are and who would kill to have what you have. Remember.

Well sometimes I don’t feel like being grateful. Today I feel like being a selfish and crying foul for me!

Pain is pain. Frustration is frustration, it does’t matter what the degree is and what it took for us to get there. It’s how we feel and I wish we could be honest about it for once without having to think of the 500 consequences that will follow.

I have so much to be grateful for. But something, someone has sucked the joy. And I don’t know where it went. And clearly it’s keeping me up at night.

I’m not even going to read what I just wrote. It’s probably just a lot of bullshit anyway, and I’ll probably feel great shame and remorse for writing this just now when the sun is up, and feel bad for not writing something funny.

So maybe I’ll delete you. Maybe I won’t.

So Dalekins and I introduced his friends (a lovely couple who came to visit from Holland Jaaaa) to South Africa’s National Treasure: The Pothole.

We drove to Graskop before going to Kruger Park and man oh man did these two NOT take a liking to our roads.

I must point out here, they are both doctors, so are usually elbow deep in spleen and arteries most of their days, and yet, our teensy weensy potholes struck terror in their hearts!

It got so bad that eventually the poor girl (they were following in the car behind us) was almost in tears after slamming on breaks to avoid each and every little pothole they came across. Dalekins and I were shlaloming around them like pro’s ofcourse! (Maybe SA should try “potholing” as an Olympic sport? )

Granted, sometimes the potholes were SO big that Dalekins had to stop the car, we both had to jump out, run into the bushes, come out with a few logs and swiftly rope them together to make a bridge using only dental floss and bubblegum (I watched a lot of McGyver as a kid! Although I don’t really like using that red knife he always had on him. It breaks my nails when I try to open it. So I just throw it at people when I need to).

Anyhoo, they found this whole pothole nonsense to be very stressful. You can imagine their distress when we took them to a place called “Burke’s Luck Potholes” the next day! “They have a whole Park for POTHOLES!! What kind of a country is this!!”

Bleh so they didn’t like our roads. But also didn’t take a liking to our Coke Floats. What the hell! Who doesn’t like coke floats! They said it was “strange”. They also said that drinking milk and sugar in your tea was “strange”. Biltong “Strange”.

Mannnnnnnnn, you guys run around in clogs all day! (Amsterdam must be very loud?)

So off to Kruger we went

Accommodation – fantastic! Right in the bush I tell ya! A Bed so big we could BOTH do bed angels and not even touch each other! Downside though was that we weren’t allowed to walk around at night without calling a porter to come and accompany us, for “safety”.

Um… to protect us from what!? Annnnnnnd he wasn’t even a ninja or anything, it was just a dude! What would he have done if a leopard had pounced from the shadows and eaten my face off!!? Thrown a shoe at it??

God in heaven, anyhoo!

Animals! Score!

All the animals were sweet enough to time their shtooping so when we got there,
everything had babies!

Animal Count:

Elephants X LOTS: The day we were leaving, Dalekins mentions that it would be cool if we could see an elephant family (we had only seen the bachelor loner types) and what happens! The words aren’t even out of his mouth and to our left comes a mom, and her 2 babies!! (Well the one was more like a teenager – I knew this because he looked all narfy and was wearing his skin lower on his bum) *awed look at Dalekins* Quickly Dale ask to see a tree full of leopards and some hyena playing cards – Oh and for us to win the Powerball!!

Lions X LOTS: Our first night game drive, we’re driving along all slow-like having a looksey for you know…. ANYTHING (pickings were slim!) when the ranger gets a call on his radio (some loud shouting in Shangaan – everything sounds so angry) anyhoo, he says “I am going to drive a beeet faster now to see if we can maybe “find” somethinggg”

We’re thinking Yayyyy! Shortly after thinking yay, I was thinking: should have worn a sports braaaaaaa! There we were flying over the gravel, snotcicles hanging off our noses, bugs in our teeth, and I’m praying, Please God let this be worth it, and not just some game ranger who absolutely LOVES dung beetles and has just been alerted to one found in an elephant poo somewhere!

But no, 3 Male Lions… just walking along the side of the road – tres cool!

Funny little birds that look like Grouse X Lots: These guys are really stupid! They kept running in FRONT of the jeep, they had a death wish!! And then just when you think they were going to get hit, they fly up and shriek really loudly, and you just know they’re letting us have it: “Hey assss-holllllle I’m walkinnnnnnn eeeeere!!!” (and if they had hands they would definitely be flipping us the bird! – can birds flip the bird?)

Jackals
Zebra X 1
Owl X 1
Eagles munching a Monitor Lizard
Rhino family WITH a baby!
Impalas: Game Ranger said they’re the “peanuts” for lions…. Not very nice of him pffft!
Honey Badgers X2: Rarer than chickens teeth I tell ya!
Water Buck: They kind of come with a target already painted on their butts – very cruel!
Buffalo: Talk about a close encounter! We’re stopped for drinks on the gravel road (as you do) Dalekins and I with our gin & tonics and snacks trying to ogle the Buffalo that are over theerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrre (needed Binocs).

Game Ranger: So if I get us closer, and we get stuck, will you help us get the jeep out?

Dalekins and Ollykins: Absolutely!

I’m thinking: Are you high?

There I am about to delicately sip my G&T and the ranger FLOORS it, balls to wall off the roads *bump bump bump* and gets us to within about 5 meters to these Buffalo. They were not impressed. We. Were very impressed. There we were sipping our sundowners amongst the Buffalos!

*munches biltong*
*looks at Buffalo*
*Buffalo looks at me, looks at biltong, looks back at me*
*looks at biltong*
*looks at Buffalo*

Buffalo looks mad.

*puts biltong down*
*picks up dried apricot*

*smiles sweetly* “Sorry! Cheers!” *lifts G&T*

Funniest moment of trip?

I wake up in the early hours on Saturday morning to go for a wee, walk into the bathroom, and see a mouse. Well, it’s kind of a mouse mixed with a chipmunk! Very cute, sitting right in my shoe. So I ignore it, thinking it’ll go away.

Dalekins wakes up the next morning, walks to the loo scratching his butt, yawning, you know how it goes…

I follow and start brushing my teeth.

Mouse / chipmunky thing forgotten!

It bites me right on my toe! (Wonder if I’ll turn into anything?)

“Ouch” *monotone voice*

Dalekins: Whatsittt?

Tashkins: I just got bit by a mouse *monotone voice*

Mouse runs into loo with Dalekins

Dalekins: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO Mother of GODDDDDDDD aaaaaaaaaaaaa

Soooo I’m back from holiday! I’m happy about that, can you tell? *stabs stapler in eye*

Kruger Park was the dogs bollocks! (that means “awesome” to those of you who don’t have disgusting filthy potty mouths like me – you can blame my mom for my sailors mouth because thaaaaat’s what happens when you would rather use your bar of Lux to wash your botty instead of sticking it in your child mouth!)

I digress though – All my limbs are attached! No Rabid zebras attacked… although I do have a narfy looking bite on my bum… They always go for the bum.

“Ooooh I’ll bite HERE becauze it’zz going to be funny az all poopzz vatching her trying to put zome zort of cream on zhe bite, and also I will cauze zhe maximum amount of dizcomfort as she zeems to spend a large amount of time zitting on it!” (no, the “s” isn’t broken on my keyboard, all mozzies talk like nazi’s!) – HATE mozzies, they are from the devils bum. Their sole purpose in life is to suck you up through that stupid little nozzle! It’s not very neighbourly.

Well I can see the bite! (I think the farking space station can see it) I can manoeuvre my bum cheek around to have a good look actually. (I feel like this is one of those things that I should have kept to myself). Which just means I have to a) lay off the cheesecake and b) stop… sleeping with my nude bum in the air….?

Anyhoo.

I have picked up about 20 kilos because all our resort did was feed us. All the time. Mid-game drive morning snack. Breakfast. Mid-morning after breakfast snack. Lunch. High tea (which by the way doesn’t mean you have to sit all snooty like with your pinky in the air sipping tea like a dame and saying things like “jolly good show chap”. Well I tried that, but Dalekins kept asking me what the hell was in my scones! Nor does it mean you get served “happy cakes”). Mid-game drive snack. Dinner. Then they roll you to your room where it can start all over the next day.

Terrible life. God in heaven please stop feeding me! *Whisper*

So anyhoo, must run, will tell all gory details about our lion attack tomorrow (ok that’s a lie – but I’m just trying to keep you interested in my story here!)

Must go work now, or atleast highlight my 400 unread emails, click “mark all as read” and then randomly tick a few flags to make it look as if I’ve worked on them.

Em *cough* If someone from work reads this… you really must stop drinking from the water fountain in the kitchen, I heard a rumour someone diddled it with vodka and it makes you hallucinate…