So my sister started a book club.

No it’s a real book club. Ok well, we drink a lot of wine, talk a lot of rubbish, eat waffles and pork sausages and right at the end when we’re lying on the couches a bit pickled with our big paunchies protruding out in front of us (and after a good burp) we do eventually discuss books.

Now I only felt the need to point this out because for some bizarre reason, whenever you mention the term “book club” men always seem to get this gleamy look in their eyes. Which is swiftly followed by an evil looking grin. “So em… is it a book club (bored face), or a “boooook clubbb”? (this one is said while doing the quotey finger things and a bizarre wiggling of their eyebrows).

Ummmm, what?

You see, men separate this little get together into two categories:

The Boring book club: This is where they imagine us ladies to be getting together in a church hall to read excerpts of the bible. We’re all wearing brown ankle length dresses (something their grannies wore to bed in the 1920’s) we have loose fitting brown stockings on, the ones that pool around the ankles, those funny black shoes that librarians always wear and we’re always drinking tea. A little bit of sherry would only be had on special occasions like Christmas.

OR

The book club they WISH we were going to: This book club entails us being in someone’s mansion, there’s a sleek Aston Martin parked outside and giggling can be heard from inside the house. And there we are ladies, all laying on our own individual chaise lounger, wearing our sexiest lingerie and either our highest Jimmy Choo’s or (and this one’s always a toss up) our thigh high leather boots! Each clutching a glass of champagne and looking at each other suggestively. On the table, next to the one copy of the Kama Sutra (our book of choice) is a whole host of sex toys for us to play with… This ofcourse will only happen after our slow sexy pillow fight (and yes, our hair will be billowing around us as if there’s a fan in the room).

Ok see, now I only know that this kind of party would never happen with chicks. Get women in the same room, add champagne and attempt to have a “slow sexy pillow fight”?? That shit will NEVER happen. You touch me with that pillow and fuck up my freshly applied lipgloss and you’re going down biaaaatch!

So no, the truth of the matter is, is that we get together, chat about random books, but then always end up talking about your penis sizes. But, there is always a bit of girly giggling if that makes you feel any better? *flutter lashes*

So anyways, I digress. My sister calls me the other day and says “So I think we are shallow people and should really focus on buying the Classics for our book club” (This way we can come across looking cool and smartarsey like infront of the other girls!) Ok cool, lets do it, I shout with enthusiasm! “What classics have you got?”

“None… what classics have you got?”

*looks in cupboard* “Emm… I have a really old Mills & Boon at the back there… it’ll have a lot of “throbbing members and flower petals” in it?”

God. We’re screwed!

So off we toodle to “Click click ding dong” to order us some Classics (Yes we googled “classic books to buy to make us look smartarsey”). We came up with my sister ordering War & Peace, and me ordering Gone with the Wind (If you knew me, this book would make perfect sense – I have been told I am a dramaqueen of note, but I do declare this to be BULLSHIT *hand on forehead*)

My sister calls, whispering frantically “Oh my God Oh my God what have we donnnnnnnne!!!”… I’m thinking, what the feck has happened, is there a dead prozzie in your hotel room?? what whattttttttttttttt?

“My book arrived!” (War & Peace)

So?

It weighs almost a kilogram!!! (she starts to cry softly at this stage) and the words… God in heaven the words are tinyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!! It’s carrying on about some Russion aristocrats, and they’re all bonking their own families! 1400 pages…. I’m not gonna make ittttttttttttttt!!!

(This is where I am starting to giggle my arse off – albeit quietly!)

“Oh it can’t be that badddddddd, you’ll be okayyyyyy!” (smug look)

It was all fun and games, until my book arrived.

Gone with the Wind

Dimensions: 649grams, 1448 pages

Intimidation factor: WHAT WAS I THINKING!!! *hand on forehead*

(Calling my sister) “So… my books arrived….”

“Oh awesome… and… what’s it look like?”

“It looks…. like… a burnt up crispy thing right now. I accidentally tripped while carrying it around outside, my wrist just couldn’t support the weight and it went flying right into the braai fire!”

I do declare… what a terrible tragedy.

So after many Coffee Tequila’s, whiiiine and Jaegerbombs last night, you can imagine that I wasn’t feeling too frisky today. As a matter of fact the words “kill me, kill me now before my stomach tries to climb out of my body on it’s own” entered my mind… a few times. It only entered my mind though because I was way too scared to open my mouth!

I have a tequila allergy. Pukealoto-litis. I developed it after copious amounts of tequila found it’s way into my system throughout my 20’s (oh my blessed youth), and then my liver got gatvol and declared “I SAY NO! Thou shalt not passssssss”.

(Who made my liver boss anyway?) *narfy face*

Anyhoo, it was all my fathers fault. He likes Phuza Thursday. And he likes his tipple. He also likes to call me a pissy if I don’t imbibe. So who am I to deny him his wishes. (I will remember all this bullying though when he gets older and needs me to help feed him. So pops, what’s it gonna be today? Epol or Whiskas? Baha don’t feel sorry for him, we talk about this all the time. I usually say these kinds of things after he snaps his fingers at me and says “whats your name again?”)

He forced me to drink all this booze (not really, incase he reads this *whisper*) and then tied me down and made me watch Tom Jones (in a fetching green sequinced jacket I might add) singing “Why Why Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy Delilaaaaaaaaaaaaa”

 Orrrrsome. 

So imagine my horror of all horrors this morning when I remember “Gods you have 2 meetings today!!” which loosely translates into “Oh fuck-knuckle! Now I have to get dressed up into something that looks like the colours match (and not like a bag lady) and I s’pose I can’t go to work in my slippers today” *sad face* (I think any person who sets meetings for a Friday should be covered in honey and thrown on an ant hill – You HATE me).

Anyhoo, so I had to work today. Imagine that. I had to CONCENTRATE… 

…on a Friday!

But now, I am going to sloth it on the couch, and ring my little bell! “Dalekinssssssssssssss… wine pleaseeeeeeeeee!” (Hair of the dog). ting-a-ling-aling!

 … “I can hear you mumbling under your breathe you knowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww, and no I can’t fit this wine glass up my hoofnannyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy”

 ”….You’re just gonna have to get that bell off the rooooof tomorrow you knowwwwwww!”

Some people, I tell you…

Have a good one!

Here are some lists that you COULD have been reading on my blog right now:

10 Things you didn’t know about me (I like pinna colladas, and getting caught in the rain)

10 Things you would never do (Swim in my money like Scrooge McDuck – I’d spend that shit)

10 Shapes you’ve made with your Boogas (A bust of Dalekins – it fell apart – I had flu, it was of substandard consistency, I cannot be blamed)

Etc etc.

BUT nooooo, I’mmmmmmm going to do a different list, because I’m smartarsey like that

10 things you wish you had NEVER read on this here incredibly smartarsey blog:

1) If you eat take-aways often, you will swallow about 12 pubic hairs a year. (Says Who?)

Um, what are people doing behind that drive-thru window before they give you your food should concern you more?! (one for youuuuu *yank*) Hair nets people, hair nets… or upon hindsight, maybe a cricket box!

2) Elephantitis is caused by mosquitos

Now listen up men, if you’re flagging in the um size department (just saying) you mayyyyy want to hang your pecker out around dusk, without mozzie spray, and without your willy warmer on. Use it. Don’t use it.

3) In one year you will have shaken hands with 6 men who masturbated and didn’t wash their hands before shaking yours.

*blink* I feel dirty and I don’t know why.

4) Every year 14 bugs will find their way into your mouth, yes, you will swallow them without even knowing.

Bugs will “FIND” their way into my mouth! What did I ever do to youuuu?

5) Farts are created mostly by Ecoli and other bacteria that are microfarting in you.

They’re doing what? (It’s not me Dalekinsssssssssssssss *fweep* *flutter lashes* the bacteria’s been on the beans agaaaaaain)

6) Cockroaches have teeth in the stomachs.

Awesome. So just make sure you never end up in a cockroaches tummy.

 7) In one day you will enhale 1 liter of other peoples anal gasses

Get away from meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!! All of youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!!

 8) Women fart 3 times more often than men

We do not! We talk way too much to ever build up that amount of air. Besides, we’d blame the dog anyway.

 9) Germs found in human poo can pass through up to 10 layers of toilet paper

Annnnnd thattttts why I’m a scruncher!!!

 10) The longest tapeworm ever found in a human was 35 meters long

I’m curious. Did he expel that the normal way? By having a number 2, annnnnnnd who I ask, unfolded it to MEASURE IT! (“Mommmmmmmmmmm can you bring me your sewing tapppppppppppppppppe!”)

That’s 3 minutes of your life you’ll never get back…

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…