30 Jan 2012

Wild Dogs


I
 owe the gardener’s wife three bucks and live in perpetual fear that she will ask me for the money. In three weeks, she has not but I have noticed the way she looks at me, as if she wants to come over and talk to me, and ask for her money or something.

The other day i was hooting the car trying to get N to get out of the house when I saw her coming.  The thoughts that raced through my head ranged from a panicked scramble to get out the car through other door when it dawned on me that the windows were not tinted. So instead, I grabbed my bag and fumbled through it, looking for... something. I figured that if she asked me about it she would think that i had thought to pay her back myself.

Instead, she stuck her head into the car through a tiny opening in the window.
“Are you hooting for me?”
“Ummm no,” I rattled my bag, held it to my ear put it on my lap and resumed my rifling.
When I looked up, she was gone. I suppose it was because of the rain pelting on her.

---------
   
CNN reported last night, that after the Fukushima disaster a lot of animals were left behind. Almost a year later, these animals roam wild and free. Especially the dogs, which seem to have been reproducing like rabbits on Viagra. Incensed by the sight of these free animals, the reporter started with an emotional tirade.

“These animals, left behind have nobody to fend for them,” she sobbed into the camera. The camera then pulled out for a view of the dogs which seemed to me to be quite content frolicking around the now deserted neighbourhood.

 She finally managed to corner some man into agreeing with her that it was unnatural for animals to roam wild and free.

---------- 
 
In other CNN story an Italian captain ran his ship aground and abandoned ship before the passengers. Asked how it happened he jumble through various explanations.

Even though the coast guard insisted the rocks he hit were on the map, the captain refuted this by saying they were not adding.

“ I realise now that hitting them was a mistake though at the time it felt like a good idea, even when the ship was capsizing.”

He also explained that he had moved closer to land in order to wave at his friend who was on the beach and in so doing fallen off the boat, and couldn’t get back aboard even when the coast guard had insisted he should. His reason for not getting back on board was that he was meeting a woman on shore for an on land tryst.

Ah the Italians, I say this with a glass of wine in one hand and the remote control in the other. Who would have thought the world was so full of loons and there I was thinking my countrymen were extreme.




29 Jan 2012

Snap Judgements

Last night, I met a guy who, in a space of two
sentences had labelled me
bitter, a further three sentences on after mentioning
that I blogged, he
said that I had a puffed out ego adding that I was an
attention whore who felt the need for people to agree with her.

His friend then added that it made me seem
insecure; as I seemed to need
validation form other people.

I agreed.

Understand that blogging is
vanity publishing, and the majority of people who do
it want to be heard.
Although, I hardly think they want to agreed with, at
least not all the time . What this fine gentleman- who after a couple of
more sentences I labelled a
neurotic pervert with borderline misogynistic
tendencies who felt the need
to put people down in order to hide his own
insecurities- failed to ask was why I blogged.

Sure, I like people to agree with me but at the core
of it all, I genuinely
love writing; lists, diary entries, doodles on paper and
more importantly
stuff on this blog. Granted I do not always have time
but I really enjoy writing. The interplay between fiction and non-fiction,
thought and
inspiration, seeing it all unfold. There is no bigger a
fan out there than
I. You would be correct in your assumption that I
blog more for me than anyone else.

I may not be as good as Dickens, but this is what I
like doing.

A hobby.

Here's an excerpt from our conversation.
"Don't you have anything you like doing?" I asked.

X turned his gaze on me, smirked took a drag from
the cigarette that was
dangling precariously from his fingers, smacked his
lips and retorted

"I love sex," he paused for effect, "and I love
masturbating."

Dear reader I should tell you that such brashness
makes me uncomfortable. I
also think it is inappropriate to discuss sex in such a
manner to one you
have just met. So I gulped looked away and then
turned my gaze slowly back on him, whilst he and his pal hi-fived each other and
smirked some more.

Which, for a split second made me think of small sized apes pounding
their chests to validate their maleness.

I regarded him for a while,

"Different strokes for different folk," I said sagely.

I wanted so badly to change the subject.

"What can I say, I am a thirsty guy,"

he was.

Moments later after noticing how I had interrupted N
as she went on about
her Shona heritage, I noticed him exchanging looks
with said pal,

"You have bi-sexual tendencies," he guffawed and
exchanged another hi-five
with his pal.

Thoroughly annoyed, I turned my back on him
and spent the rest of the
evening talking to a politician who had been sitting
quietly at our table.

I became oh so interested in why he had not yet built
a dam in his constituency, as had been promised almost a decade ago.

"What dam?"

"A couple of years ago you moved people out of that
area claiming that the
government planned on building a dam."

"What dam?"

"The dam that resulted in the displacement of
hundreds of families from the
catchment area."

He continued staring at me blankly.

X's friend who had been eyeing N for a while, took
this opportunity to grab
my arm and point to a video of two people having
sex on his phone. "That's what your friend should do," and then he let
out a loud bark and
pleased as punch he hi-fived X.
Disgusted, I left with N in tow. It dawned on me that a man that
constantly went on
about sex was just using
the talk to compensate for a lot of things, which
happen to be none of a my a
stranger's business.

--
Vulnavia T. Gura

vulnaviag.blogspot.com

26 Jan 2012

Things That Go Bump In The Night



Once, a local newspaper reported the bizarre story of an adulterous couple that got stuck together during sex. The husband had done that to them. I dint understand how but a nerd friend of mine informed me that if during sex a woman is stressed enough her vagina will close up.

Bollocks.
That was a simple case of witchcraft. The husband confirmed it by going to a witchdoctor (n’anga) and getting them unstuck.

 It worked.
My nerd friend whispered that the perceived danger had been removed and she had no reason to fear so her vagina had loosened and let her ‘lover’ go.
I love that word, lover... it seems so lovey dovey, so yours truly innit?

Bollocks.

I digress.

 Years later when I moved towns, I heard of a man who could let you see who had stolen from you. He would lead you into an ill lit room sit you in a chair and hand you a mirror. Then the rest was all you,

“Mirror mirror in my hand, show the fiend who stole my beast/bra/phone/money/shoes.”

Lo and behold, right before your very eyes, like in a badly scripted Disney movie, lights would shoot out of the mirror, and fireworks would go off. You would get sucked into the mirror and be pulled into the scene of the theft.  You can’t touch anything though, everything is 2D and lack lustre which  gives you the feeling that you are being ripped off. Nine time out of ten the thief would be your best friend.

Made me totally distrust my best friend. Until somebody told me that, he gave these people a drink before he made them sit.

So in essence, what you got was a hallucination.

The n’anga I went to the other day, tried to convince me that that was no hallucination, and that the picture was for real.

Made me think.

 A couple of years ago some thieving fiend made away with all my shoes, save for a royal blue pair that was peeling off at the sides  and a pair of silver heels  that was coming undone. I had many a sleepless night after that night. Imagining that the burglar had come back to finish me off, I still do. Most nights I lie awake imagining all sorts of horrors.


                                 


Why just the other night, I heard him. Jangling our French door trying to get into the lounge, (my love for TV is rivalled only by my love of shoes. As quick as a cat I slid out of bed. I, am no fool however, I went to wake up L.

I tiptoe quite dramatically to her bedside and stood there watching her for a minute, one hand on my hips and the other, poised to shake her.

I poked her instead, and arms held akimbo, I waited.

She did not stir, so I poked her again and resumed my stance, (in nothing but my knickers which had no doubt been skewed by my tossing and turning) she woke... slowly.

Peeling her eyes open slowly.

At this point, I should tell you dear reader that my family is endowed with quite large eyes, as big saucers, round as tiny moons in heads of all shapes and sizes. When we open them wide, they fill our faces.

L opened hers wide (she has the biggest you see), and I stood there in silence watching her, waiting for the shadow of sleep to drop from her eyes in phases. First came the confusion, then puzzlement, then fright, and for a second she looked quite petrified and finally the annoyance when she recognised. For such a smart girl I cannot believe it took her almost a minute to recognise me.
 
“Why on earth are you standing naked beside my bed?” she demanded sitting up straight

“Someone’s trying to get in,”
“Someone’s trying to get in?”
“Yes, now they’ve stopped, listen,”
“Listen.”
“Shhhhh stop parroting me, listen they’ve stopped lets go switch on the lights in the lounge so they know we are up.’
“Now?”
“Yes now, come on.”

It took another minute to get her out of bed.

“You go first, go on I’ll cover you.”
“From what? Why can’t you go first? You are older.”
“Because,”
“Because what?”
“I’m naked.”
“No way, I’m the youngest you go first.”
“Listen L I can’t go first if he sees me like this he will be filled with lust, break in and rape me.”
“No, no, no way, I am not going first what if he attacks.”
“He won’t”
I picked up a shoe and held it in front of me, waving it about to show what I meant.

We bickered about why I got to have a weapon and she didn’t. The right answer in all these instances was that I was older.
“Why are we tiptoeing, wouldn’t it be better if we made noise and let him know we were up?’

Because I’m older
Why are pushing me ahead, I can walk by myself,”
Because I’m older
 “Shouldn’t I be the one switching on the light since I am in front?”
Because I’m older
 “Why should I look outside? What if he sees me and punches the glass where my face is?”
Because I’m older
“Wait, why do I have to walk behind you, you said I should be in front.”
“I told you I am not dressed.”
“That’s not even a reason; you know you really need to learn to wear a nightie when you are going to bed, why do you sleep in the nude anyway?”
Because I’m older
“One of these days a thief is gonna walk in and mistake you for a witch.”
Because I’...

I was very offended, but it was true. African witches go about their business in the nude.

24 Jan 2012

Talentless Freaks of Nature





I have often wondered how the majority of people that enter talent shows convince themselves that they are talented. Most of them are not.

Note, the only talent shows that I watch are American ones.

Your wailing gay men, who think their singing is absolutely fabulous only to have Simon Cowell tell them they sound like two hippies in a bar.

A shrieking child, clutching her head and wailing like Mariah Carey on crack.  her mother  watching proudly(from behind the stage)  with tears streaming  down her cheeks,  and I sitting in my lounge wondering when the farce is going to end, inevitably it does, ten seconds into the torrid performance Piers Morgan sounds his buzzer and nonchalantly announces that not only does she indeed sound like Mariah on crack. You would also think that she was dueting with a dying dog.

The said mother rushes on stage, gives our hapless judge a withering look, and quickly bundles her now hysterical daughter away.

Now between American Idol, X Factor-USA and America’s got talent I am more than convinced that there is something wrong with the way Westerners raise their kids.

In my house when I so much as open my mouth to sing along/solo/duet with anyone, one of my sisters simultaneously drops to the floor, clutches her tummy, points and laughs hysterically.
Mind you, my singing is not so bad, I can hold my own in any crowd, but even though I sound good in the shower, I am not deluded.

The people on these shows are however quite deluded.
I am realistic, the people at home made sure of this. I imagine that three quarters of the contestants on these talent shows had a charmed musical childhood.

Scene 1.
Contestant (at age eight):  Pounds piano off key
Mum: Oh my, that is absolutely delightful
Contestant (at age ten): pounds piano off key, they still do it like when they eight.
(The dog whines and walks off)
Dad: Hearing you play brings tears to my eyes, your talent is unsurpassed, Mozart himself is smiling in his grave.
Mum: Dad I think she is ready, when America’s Got Talent next rolls into town we will take her to the auditions and they are going to love her.
They don’t.
Piers Morgan:  (with the crowd hysterically yelling “Boooooo!”) that was simply atrocious; even if you practised for a lifetime, I would still say no. Guards take her away.

Scene 2.
Son (age 14): Humming softly, saying a word or two out loud occasionally
Dad: Peter, what are you humming?
Son: Our war cry dad, I made the football team and I am trying to remember the words.
Dad: well, sing a little louder let’s hear it then
Son: Daaaaad (he whines) I am not even sure of the words
Dad: Don’t be silly, I wanna hear, now sing
Son: initially you cannot hear what he is singing but then the look of encouragement on his dads face eggs him on.  He yells a little louder, a bit more off key this time. By now, his dad is positively brimming.
He finally finishes with a flourish.
Dad: that was absolutely marvellous.
Dad makes a sudden U-Turn
Son: I thought we were going home (looks about him confusedly)
Dad: Not with all that talent we aren’t, I am taking you to the X-Factor auditions. Your voice takes me back to a better time in my life, like an angel singing solo it caresses my soul. You so are music personified.
Son: (he believes it and wracks his brain for his performance song)
On their way, they buy an Elvis costume for the son, (dad has always been a fan of Elvis and seeing, as his son is the next bad thing, he decides his boy should look like Elvis).
Son goes on stage.
He belts out a startling cacophony of sound. His voice is breaking, he cannot remember his lines and asks for a second chance. Dad’s encouragement has him pumped.
He starts again.
In one line, he has gone through soprano, alto, turner, bass and back again.


The judges are silent.
He carries on. Until the sound technician unable to take, it anymore turns off his mic.
Simon Cowell: (looking bored) Are your parent’s siblings? Because you sounded like you have a malformed voice box.

Dad is furious, all this time he had been sitting silently in the audience, tears streaming down his cheek. His son in his Elvis outfit has made him so proud.  If he were African, his ancestors would be so proud.



On hearing Simon’s words he jumps up and charges like a maddened bull, *insert expletives here*
Security tazers him and he still tries to tear himself away to get to Simon. They knock him unconscious.
-----------------
And that my friends is how no talent folk end up on talent shows.



20 Jan 2012

The Bone Thrower Saw Thigh and Got a Boner


Lately I have been neglecting my blog. This is entirely due to no fault of mine whatsoever. Nevertheless, I have reasons why and they are good ones.

First, I have been spending time looking for traditional healers. You would think that they would be easy to find, au contraire.

The first one I went to refused to see me because I was wearing a sleeveless dress with neon colours splashed across it. The explanation I got had something to do with the ancestors not being too pleased with my tempting of their medium by flaunting my skin.

The Headlines would have clearly read:

The Bone Thrower  Saw Thigh and Got a Boner
Man sees red after seeing flesh uncovered

The second n’anga I went to was a skinny light woman, who did not have te decency to at least dress up in her full regalia but instead carried on with her dusting and polishing whilst N and I began our consultation,


N: You have heard of those people going around the country eating peoples intestines?
[blank look from n’anga]

Here's a picture of a man with a blank look.

N: (moving her hands in wide circles) they give people lifts, stop at butcheries, go inside to buy inards and then eat them raw, by the time the drop off the person at their intended destination, their dead

.
V: (shaking fists in the air) on carrying out the post mortem the pathologist is surprised to learn that all the intestines are gone.
[blank look from n’anga]

Here's a picture of a blank look.



N: (takes a deep breath) I am doing a story on it would you like to be on t.v and tell us about it?
[n’anga starts moving her arms and shaking her fists violently]

Heres a picture of a Muslim flailing his arms


I am almost convinced that she is in a trance.
But then she speaks,


N’anga:  (still shaking her fists) no, no they will come after me and kill me. Just this morning i had to fight off one of them, they came just before dawn. We faught. She almost won but I managed to sit on her. No, no. You need to get out, they will know. You need to leave.

Here's a picture of Hansel shaking his fists.


Still gesturing violently she pushed us out, and banged the door in our faces.
(insert picture of violent gesture)


15 Jan 2012

Life Is Painted Noly Red Green




A shadow painted whereyes, a shadow must fall.
the cow's breath not forgotten...

  life is painted noly red, green, but also in grey and dard.

Let us welcome life with smiles whatever it is.

Green Dreams, gift of the gods, and in this achievement effort. both
inward and outward. must play a great part

Think me not unkind and rude, that I walk done in grove and glen; I go
to the god of the wood.

Best wishes for my Best friends and welcome To our little happy world.
When you have problem, Remember me.please.

Cool Dogs Welcome to Cool Dog's Happy little world BEST WISHES FOR YOU
I now dend you infinite blessing at every each other for youth and
joy! Drip such acrid fragrance.
Miffy 45th Anniversary in 2000 Skipper's Schedule Fishing the seas for
a fishy story for the fishmonger.

Child Wonder The only excercise I get is when I take the studs out of
one shirt and put them in another New Taste Many reason have been put
forward for napolean fame, apart from those put forward by napolean
himself.
Dear my friend, Bob. Hi! Bob, How are you? I'm in the pink of health
Do you know that plastic model car race is now very popular in our
school? My car is "BOB Special No. 2" which you gave me some time ago.
It's really the best one which has been never failed to keep first
place at all races.

Snoopy for PRESLDENT Weber for Lunch * Editor's note: The drawing on
this pencil box showed Snoopy and Woodstock. King of Line Wisdom is
better than Strength
---------
This is me talking now... none of this was made up. The Chinese said it.

11 Jan 2012

Guest Blogger 10: Bloggier Than Thou...



I do not know how I ended up doing this, but I know every time I thought about it I was filled with that type of dread that comes from knowing a lot is expected from you but you have absolutely nothing, zilch, nada to deliver.


Simply because the last time I composed anything I was proud to show to anyone was 8 years ago in English class – and boy, did I used to compose some mean pieces, if I say so myself.  

So for these two reasons, I dreaded sitting down to put words on paper again and secretly hoped Vulnavia would forget she commissioned me to write for her. Add the fact that I was not given a topic but merely told to write about ANYTHING...


[This was new ground for me because we always got topics to write about in High School, “What I did during the Holidays”, “A Day I will never forget” e.t.c.] …but I digress too much!

So after raking my brain for so long trying to get rid of my chronic writer’s blockthe epiphany I had been waiting for came. And so it goes...
,

We all know about the age old sayings that try to tell us to look for substance rather than the physical in a person right? That is, their personality as opposed to their looks, to look for all that is holy, all that is pure, all that is ever-lasting:


“All that glitters is not gold”,


“Never judge a book by its cover”... etc.


And let us be frank, if you do not know these sayings and what they mean, then either you must have been one of the few that skipped aforementioned English class, never owned a Student's Companion or perhaps you are just a girl X as blogged by Tariro not too long ago.


Yes, again I digress. 

When speaking to my friends, I have always preached about my disregard for looks and the physical and how much I always look for a star personality in a person before I engage in any form of relationship. And truth be told, after waxing lyrical, I always leave these conversations feeling the better, more mature person.

Fast forward to June 2011. In this age of social networks most of us have ended up in larger social circles than we ever fathomed we could handle.  All it takes is a recommendation on these sites and before long, you are friends with someone you have never met before.


Luckily for me, it was not as random as this – I promise I do not spend my days adding each and every recommended friend on my Facebook or Twitter profile, my friend lists are testament to this! 

Philippa had been a friend of my best friend – and as you do, she had come up in quite a few conversations between my friend and I. I am sure I had come up in conversations between my friend and her because some time during the British Summer of 2011 Philippa and I became friends on Facebook.


And from the get-go we got on like a house on fire – it was like we had known each other all our lives, bar the fact that we knew more about each other than the average two people that strike up a friendship. 


We chatted about everything from politics, religion, the arts, the future, the past and everything in between – and very soon Philippa and I were on that WhatsApp swag, daily, hourly! And don't you dare think I have forgotten to wax lyrical about how good looking Philippa was.


In her Facebook photos she looked simply divine, always fashionable in the right clothes, hair always looking right and by the looks of it always in the ‘bestest’ looking sunglasses money could buy. You can see where this is going can't you, that is, she was not someone you’d be embarrassed with in public...

Very soon summer became winter and the party season was upon us. And my friends and I had one helluva season planned ahead of us cuz sure we like to partaaaay – eh – eh - eh!


One weekend, we all descended on Birmingham for a close friend's Birthday party... and my best friend had brought Philippa along by surprise.


I just could not believe my eyes – there she was in person, looking tight as ever, in her latest Prada sunglasses, adding mystique... This party weekend had taken a different turn and I knew there and then that a man was about to enjoy himself ten-fold. 

 The morning after the night before, after everyone had left, our smaller group of friends woke up as early as we could manage, to have brunch... .i.e. not early at all! And as I sat in the kitchen munching away heartily at my food, I heard Philippa and my friend coming downstairs to join us.


I will never forget the moment I lifted my head to give the warm, boy-like smile I had on my face. My friend and Philippa were in clear view, about to walk into the kitchen.... only that it was Philippa, without her big designer sunglasses. Philippa as life had left her after a seriously disfiguring disease had left her with a drooping eye-lid and another that could not open at all.


It is amazing how much racing the mind can do in shock!! My heart went South and when it reached South, it went south of South... and the noticeable effects of this were the wide-open eyes and awry smile that now occupied my face. To avoid an awkward situation I quickly remembered to put my smile back on and reminded myself to say


“Good Morning.” in the most jovial way possible.... and so I did as they walked in. 

That is my story.

Now shall we make this a story for all of us?

I am sure when you finished reading most of y’all took the holier than thou stance as I used to before the Philippa situation but allow me to twist this on you please.


How many people have you disregarded based on their looks alone? How did you know if said persons wouldn’t have been the most compatible in any form of relationship if you did not look beyond their looks? We all want the best looking partners yes, the one that looks good on the arm but are we sacrificing the true traits that I believe make a good and sound relationship? What should really be important to us? And is this achievable in this visual world? 

10 Jan 2012

Versatile Blogger Award

I have been nominated for the VERSATILE BLOGGER AWARD, by    Sunshyne C.

I finally got the recognition that I knew I deserved. When I first started blogging I wrote and rewrote blog award acceptance speeches in the hope that someday somebody out there would recognise me for the new, improved, prettier and more creative version of Shakespeare that I am, well Sunshyne finally did! To see her stuff which really is also quite awesome, click on this linky thing here .

Now for the dreary red tape.

 The rules are as follows:
  1. Thank the award-giver and link back to them in your post
  2. Share 7 things about yourself
  3. Pass this award along to 15 recently discovered blogs you enjoy reading
  4. Contact your chosen bloggers to let them know about the award
Seven random things about myself;
  1. I am obsessed with yoghurt, of all type colour, flavour, I do not discriminate
  2. I would rather wear a dress then jeans, makes me feel so pretty.
  3. I will read anything as long as it has letters, no matter how boring I stick it out to the very end.
  4. I see things in the dark, a result of my overactive imagination, I do believe I once saw a ghost, no don't judge, strue.
  5. I am very shy, which is nothing to be proud of, instead of twiddling my thumbs around new people however, I come out swinging like Tiger Woods.
  6. I loathe people that talk a lot, especially since I never shut up... there can only be ONE.
  7. I am a total softy and will cry at the drop of a hat.
Now to nominate my top 15 favourite blogs *reaches for thinking cap*.
 Now I patiently await my next award :)

9 Jan 2012

Porky Mary vs Handsome John (Episode 1)


She is sitting on a sofa her skins glistens in the fading light he is sweating and her voice has a catch in it that could mean that they have been fighting for a while and she is near tears.

 He is sitting on the other end, a large man his bulging muscles quiver with restrained strength. His eyes bulbous globes chase the reflections o his TV flickering across his heavy railway slipper table.

She flails her arms in a dramatic fashion, “John, you don’t love me anymore I can feel it,”

He turns to her with a look of disgust on his face, “Feel what Mary? That you are not the woman I thought you were?”

“You don’t love me John I see it in your eyes,”

He reaches for her and changes his mind, “My eyes are as black as my soul you cannot see into them,”

A lone tear streaks down her cheek, “I have grown to know you John and you are not the man I thought you were,”

She hops up off the seat and stands before him, hands placed firmly on her ample hips. He eyes them from the corner of his eyes thinking to himself how they look so ready to bear him the sons he hopes to one day have.
Her eyes roam over his large muscled form, his arms as large as those of a coal miner are placed each on a knee, and she looks at them longingly thinking that if he would only wrap them around her all would be forgiven, for she loves him so.


Instead she lets out a birdlike protest, determined that he would treat her as an equal. John is annoyed. Mary should know her place and not question him so, be more like his mother who never once questioned his father, but instead bore him five sons with a bird like grace and the acquiescing nature of a mouse.


He shifts his buttocks on the hard sofa and thinks to himself that tomorrow he will change the padding on the seat. Mary is saying something again.

He sighs and reaches for her, Mary makes to move away but his reflexes are like those of the African hyena and he grabs her, pulling her onto his lap. Determined to silence her, he grasps her face and proceeds to kiss her with the fury of a teenage girl throwing a temper tantrum.

Mary fights him like a cockroach trapped under a shoe determined to get away, John oblivious to her feeble attempts continues mauling her mouth surprised at how much she tastes she tastes like his favourite fruit (mazhanje-sorry I don't know the English name). He shifts his position to get better entry, making the mistake of lifting his mouth from hers. Mary seeing her chance, head butts him. 

Stunned John lets go and clutches his head like a confused baby.

"You animal," 

Mary gasps, scrambling to her feet.

She grabs her purse from the table, gives John a look she hopes is scathing but sadly makes her look like a cross eyed pig- for her nose is large and porky. And with this last look she storms out.


-------

7 Jan 2012

Pardon???

 



My not so humble apologies for taking so long to get back to the blog. The holidays had me doing the weirdest things, stuff that was not so conducive to blogging and sharing thoughts with the public. But here goes.
After getting my driver’s license i figured that nobody would believe me if i told them that i had gotten it without having to bribe anyone, so i came up with a series of statements to explain how i got mine.
---------
1.       “So he asked me if i had brought the money, which of course I had not so I unbuttoned my shirt and stood there waiting, it didn’t take him long to figure out what to do, the man cleared his desk and was out of his pants before you could say jack-in-the-box.”

2.       “... and just as we neared the intersection with the examiner happily ticking away this naked boy came running from the bushes waving his arms maniacally, hot on his heels were three dwarves carrying machine guns, I didn’t think about it. I braked the car and took off in the opposite direction before the instructor could yell,
Stop!!! You are not allowed to do that,”
(Please understand that I am convinced that one day dwarves will take over the world.)

3.       “When he told me that I had failed my road test, I calmly took out my gun and advanced ever so slowly never taking my eyes off him and announced, in a dead pan voice that if he did not give me a license, I would shoot each one of his balls and feed him the shreds of each one whilst repeatedly punching his teeth in,”


4.       He told me I was beautiful and I told him that if he did not give me the license I would have him arrested for sexual harassment.

5.       So when I saw that things were not looking good for me, I killed him and stuffed his body in the trunk of the car. That explains why the license is in my handwriting.

6.       I snuck into the examiner’s office that night, urinated on his desk, stole his chair and all the papers, I left the blue licences that was the only stationery he had on him this morning.

-----
But then it cannot end there, here’s stuff you say when you are sure that your neighbour is eavesdropping,

“...I know he really loves me; the restraining order is just to keep up appearances with his wife.”

“Everytime he hit me, he bought me a new pair of shoes, so now I make him angry so he can beat me up, I mean look at these babies.”

“So after my seventh abortion the ghosts of all the babies I had killed started coming to me now they follow me everywhere, (looks at empty chair) Jeremy stop that (takes side swipe at empty chair).”

“So he gets up from his coffin, points at the pastor, and starts laughing hysterically...”

“... I simply put them on and walked out of the shop, the shop assistant didn’t even notice.”

“...I don’t care that he’s a male prostitute, now we can afford whatever we like, what bothers me is that he goes out dressed as a woman.”

“so when my herpes finally broke out, i didn’t think nothing of it, after all my gonorrhoea was more frightful and painful.”

NOW, anyone with any random statements for eavesdropping strangers please do share.