I have discovered, by flicking onto whoknowswhat radio station, that a person can actually THOROUGHLY enjoy herself through the chaos that is an Empire/ Jan Smuts intersection at peak hour, during the country’s worst loadshedding moment:
When Bonnie Tyler’s I NEED A HERO is bleating its double cheese tunes out.
La la LAAAAAAAA HERRROOOOOO, sorry, excuse me, my turn, wait wait, I NEED AAAAA…..ok let me edge through this way, WAIT!, bitch!, HERRRRRROOOOOOOOOOO…….
My office mate says my outfit today makes me look like some sort of activist. She’s asked if I am going to leave the office at 5pm to go and protest outside some government building for Animal Rights. I need to start learning to leave the placard at home.
And most glaringly in my life right now: The good old defeatist subconscious is screeching fish-wife murder in my head about wat die fokkin hell do I think I am up to??! This guy is full of kak, né! His charming words are just to get his HOT (HOT HOT!) body laid. He doesn’t really mean that I am completely & ridiculously gorgeous, that my petite intelligent fun-loving self is just overwhelming in hotness. Ja ja, suuuuure he has suggested a “relationship” but what does that mean. Well, let me tell jyou girlie, all that means is that I will be gooi’ing away all that lekker freedom. Shag him silly, and then get the hell out of this maddening situation. Ignore all signs that this is going so well & he is just too gorgeous in too many ways. OUT OUT OUT! Run already, you silly romantic bitch! Fokking lift those dik bene, en hardloop!
Nothing like an occasional bout of psychological hyperventilation to keep the serial single chick on her toes!