When someone catches you sniffing a book, and looks at you like you are insane …

Totally relatable quotes about books, reading and book obsession ….









We lose ourselves in books... quote books world imagination reading read real life


Story of my life..there aren't enough hours in the day..


"Some books you read. Some books you enjoy. But some books just swallow you up, heart and soul." #Books #Quote


Never Judge a Book by It's Movie - so many that I could apply this to ... Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, Lovely Bones come immediately to mind.

YES! WE SHALL! After I finish just ONE more chapter... ok, maybe two... or maybe another book... xD


One must be careful of books and what is inside them, for words have the power to change us. - Cassandra Clare


No known cure. Many remedies are out there, but all met with mixed results.

Exclusive Books are giving books away …..



Okay, they are not actually giving them away for nothing, but they are giving them away for a lot less money that you would spend under normal circumstance.

I went along last year to the Exclusive Books sale, and I can tell you without any hesitation, that it was the best freaking SALE ever.

I do love books, and all things book related, so the idea of walking into a warehouse arrangement with trestle tables piled high with books was a bit on the orgasmic side for me.

I love to smell books, I love to touch books, books tick nearly all the things I need to get my senses running on an all time high.

This year the EXCLUSIVE BOOKS SALE is running at Canal Walk  —- I am imagining rows and rows of table of pure deliciousness.

The SALE OF THE FREAKING YEAR runs from 28 August – 14 September, 09h00 – 21h00 and is going to be situated opposite Entrance 8, which is near Game and they are using the store that was used by Khoki before.

Here are some tips for preparing for the sale – I want to pass on my wisdom to you:

1.  Have a good breakfast.  Keep the liquids to a minimum, you do not want to have to drop your stash to go for a urine break.  Alternatively fit a catheter.  You can get the basics from your local hardware store.

2.  Do some basic stretches — it may come down to speed and you grabbing something before someone else does.  Focus on upper body and arm work — legs aren’t going to be that important.

I do suggest doing these stretched before you get to the sale, but I guess if you have a leotard and want to do it there, no one will object, but you are losing valuable shopping time whilst you show us how you can bend it like Beckham … but to each his own.  However with some of these stretches your very relaxed vagina muscles might squeeze out a bit of urine, so I think add some dry wipes to your bag just in case.

Page9 700

3.  Try not to have any hand luggage – this will include your bag, young children, your husband or a cup of anything from Vida Cafe.  The longer you hold something, the more chance you have of missing out on all the good stuff.

4.  This is one of the few times where you will be permitted and encouraged to wear a fanny pack.  Keep some lip moisturizer stick (not the tub kind) available, your credit card — you may want to sort out your credit limit or an extension before you get there.  I am going to put a few high protein snacks in as well — I don’t want to get dizzy like the last time.

5. Test your clothing before you leave home.  Check you can walk really fast — no running involved, but there are going to be moments when you spy a book on a table, and  it is the last one, and then you notice some other shopper who has also seen the book.

Having clothing that you can move fast in is going to come in helpful.  If you have to the lip moisturizer stick you can also use it to strike her to distract her, she will then drop the book and the “finder’s keepers loses weepers rule kicks in”.  No one ever expects to be stabbed or struck with a chapstick, so it is a useful tool in your arsenal.

Okay this is a shank used in prison, but it is nearly the same thing.

6.  Leave children at home — trust me on this, you want to stay focussed and dedicated.  Kids are really of no use to you on this outing.  Leave them at home, lock them in the car, or tie them to a bench outside, but do not bring them to this sale.

7.  Ditto for husbands, partners, sperm donors –— you may want to match kids up with their respective fathers on this day and get them to go somewhere.  Else.  Together.  But not here.  With you.

baby daddy

8.  What ever plans you have made for “after the sale” — cancel them.  Chick, there is no time after the sale.  The sale is an all day affair.  And you are going to be exhausted afterwards — and also you are going to want to unpack all your books and look at them.


9.  Think strategy —- how much can you reasonably carry?  If it is not a lot, then you need to be doing some “jerk and lift” exercises now already.


10. Take along some heavy duty canvas bags, because you will not be able to carry it all in your hands.  Your shoulders may get sore with the weight of the bags, so I suggest grabbing some of those heavy duty Kotex sanitary pads, and just wedging a few under the bag strap.  Sure people are going to snigger, but you will be respected when their bag straps are cutting in to their shoulders and you stand their with your gloriously relaxed shoulders with no big red welts on them.  Winning at this, you will be.

11.  Think Xmas — you can purchase so many of your gifts right there and then, so go along with loose list in your head of who you can buy books for.

This is also a fantastic defense when you get home with a trunk load full of books — if anyone judges you and says “well, fuck how are you going to pay water and electricity now??” then you can just say: “These are Christmas gifts … for the CHILDREN, for gd sake have a heart —– its Christmas!!!”  You may need to practice that line a bit to make it sound like it is actually Xmas, because in reality it is August, and well, no one is thinking Christmas right now.

But points to you for thinking and planning ahead.


12.  Invest in a camelbak — these things are great for EXCLUSIVE BOOKS SALES and when you are finished using them to drink from, they can double as a catheter bag.



12.  Amateur Hour is having your partner/husband drop you off and he will come back later to collect you.  This is a SALE people, not a freaking play date.  Drop yourself off and leave when you are ready, or out of money — which ever arrives first.

I hope this handy little guide helps you, and you have an awesome EXCLUSIVE BOOKS SALE EXPERIENCE!!


5 Finger shoes —- those shoes make me want to punch a baby …..

This made me snort with laughter today … much needed.


5 fingered shoes




These by the way are five finger shoes ..


Vibram FiveFingers Signa Water Shoes

When the wheels fall off …..

Jeremy Lipking

I get really frayed around the edges when things do not go to plan.

I am not suggesting I am someone who is unable to adjust to the things that life throws at me, or that I am unable to adapt when the situation calls for it.

I can adjust my sails and pick a new course without too much ado.  I am pretty flexible, and though I might first stand there like a deer in the headlights, I make decision and remain flexible in most situations.

I will confess that the last month has had one too many whoppers for me to deal with.  This last week I have felt exhausted, and very sleepy, and by the time Friday rolled by I was already feeling like I was stretched that little bit too thin.

Then VODACOM came along and by the second hour of being bounced from one department to another, I think I lost the last remnants of my mind.

I could feel a full scale panic attack coming on whilst I was standing at the NOT ACTUALLY A VODACOM, BUT LOOKS LIKE A VODACOM store at Century City.

My heart rate was up, I could feel that breathing was starting to feel a bit laboured.

I was sweating up a storm, and I think I stopped blinking.  I really was not having a fun time, and the fact that it was allowed to escalate, really felt like a donkey had kicked me in the nuts. Or if I had nuts where they might be.

I was actually unable to think clearly after that point and the balance of the day was spent in full scale panic and anxiety melt down.

Kennith came over to do dinner with the kids, and he made a suggestion about my phone which was quite obvious, but in my now panicked situation, I just could not get to myself.

On reflection, this has been a bit of a month:

1.  I resigned, and left a structured employment arrangement for a wide open risk situation.

2.  A friend died in a car accident.

3.  I had a very surreal phone call from a friend about that friend, and how that friend felt about me – which made me ask all sorts of questions about myself.  Life and stuff.

4. I had a car accident – which scared the living bejesus out of me.

5.  I had to deal with insurance brokers (who were more than organised, and pleasant to deal with), arrange to get a rental, and then of course there is the assessor queries and all of that – and feeling constantly that I had done something wrong, or how I could have done this much damage to my car.

6.  Kennith dropped off the final papers to submit to High Court.  I had seen them before, so there was no surprise there — but the fact that I was holding a set of papers that was our divorce papers.  Reality, set in here.  In spades.

7.  I worry that I have bills to pay and shit to do, and do not have a pay check that is going to be clearing in the next two days.  <add increased heart rate and sweaty palms here>

There are of course a few other things that are happening in my life — no big deal stuff, but it does sometimes feel like I am a bit frazzled.  Friday was the moment when my little train going up the hill going I think I can- I think I can …. just said, fck this shit, I am going off road.

Just going off the edge of reality.  Don’t worry, I will send you a postcard.  I can’t call you … because well you know, but I will send carrier pigeon or soemething.

I know I had a bit of a shit fit about my phone — but it seriously was the last straw.

I really started to have some real concerns about my welfare on Friday night —–

On Saturday night I still had NO SERVICE on my phone.  I did call VODACOM again, and pretty much had written my life off at that point, because I could not face being bounced around by them.

I spoke to Kendric in Data – Technical or something of that nature.

He was pleasant and helpful, and resolved the issue quickly.  He did try to end the call with a little add on sale ….. I didn’t hold it against him.  Thanks Kendric, you have not quite restored my faith in VODACOM, but you have managed to assist me having a slightly saner evening.

And for that I am thankful.

I hope your week is a good one —– where ever you are …. and how ever you are spending it.


Image sourced:  Contemporary Artist Jeremy Lipking – his work can be viewed here.

Mommy doesn’t have a favourite child …

favourite child

Today is my rant — VODACOM YOU SUCK in large chunks …..


I have been with Vodacom for the entire existence of my time of owning a cell phone.

I have always had one number – I have always been a client of VODACOM.


I hate upgrading.  I hate anything that puts me in a position where I feel I will lose information or the usability of my phone.

I do everything through my phone.

I run my business.  I run my life.  Everyone I have ever spoken to is a contact on my phone.

I am really attached to a sense of order, control over my information and that it all remains accessible.  This is how I function.

I struggle to function — so it is really important that I have lists, I have order and I have control.

I upgraded a few months ago — because I was meant to upgrade in April, and just ignored it.

Vodacom sent me several emails and and and ….. then I upgraded. I had a iphone 4S and I upgraded to an iphone 5S.

It came with a new SIM card and that made me nervous.  It would be a SIM swap, and I was fearful of losing any information and putting my life into chaos.  {I am not being overly melodramatic – I know how I function, and I function well as long as I keep a firm eye on where things are and that things run a certain way.}

I left the phone in my cupboard unopened for about three months.

Today I thought I need to stop being a TJOP and get the phone out and just do the SIM swap.  I called VODACOM and spoke to a call operator called Lucky at 12h37.

He was pleasant, efficient and reassured me that it was quite easy.  I had all the numbers and in a few moments he had arranged the SIM swap.  He made it clear I should not put the new SIM into the new phone until I had notification that the SIM on the original was cancelled.  And I would see this as it would who NO SERVICE or similar.

Cool!  Yay I thought. Look at me all brave and shit.

About an hour later it had occurred to me I have never actually put a SIM into an iphone.  Kennith had always sorted this out for me. that I should figure how to get the SIM in the phone in the interim.

I worked it out, but the SIM did not fit.  Long story short, VODAOM have supplied the incorrect sized SIM for the iphone 5S.

To clarify. Vodacom had contacted me for the upgrade.  They had sent the phone and the SIM. I had not gone to a retailer, or picked it off the shelf.  VODACOM had kindly done all of this for me.

I thought, this is a bit irritating, but these things happen – I will pop down to VODACOM at Canal Walk and sort this out before my phone and my existing number stopped working.

Just to recap — I run my business, my only source of income off my phone, so it working is sort of really important to me.

I pop along to a VODACOM store.  My sense/assumption is if I explain my little issue, someone will go “hells bells, that is terrible, we are very sorry, no worries, let’s sort that out for you in a jiffy – here is the right SIM card …. again we are sorry, but hey have a good day.”

That is sort of what I was hoping for.

It seems VODACOM stores are not actually VODACOM. They appear to be stores owned by people who are not VODACOM …. it took me a bit to get my head around as it looked like VODACOM.

The short of it was they could not sort out my problem — because the store emblazoned with VODACOM is not actually VODACOM.

At this point I was starting to sweat, my heart rate was increasing and I felt a definite panic attack coming on.

The guy at the sort of VODACOM store,which is not actually VODACOM, was really helpful.  He explained he could sell me a SIM card, and he would have to send an email to VODACOM who in turn would then do the SIM swap.  (Second one)

He could not guarantee whether that would be in 4 hours of 48 hours because he was not VODACOM.  And it was Friday afternoon.

I had no issue paying for a new card — I did sort of start to hyperventilate that I might be without my phone for 48 hours, because remember I had already done  SIM swap, and I had limited time on the SIM I presently had.

I figured no problem.  I will phone really efficient Lucky, explain my predicament and he would make this problem go away.

Then we laughed and laughed.  And laughed.  I also cried a little.  Or that could have just been me.

I called VODACOM – same number I had called earlier, Customer Service I believe (111 …. I think).

The person I spoke to could not transfer me within the department to another operator, but explained that I should actually call Sales on 082 1950 because THEY were the people who would sort it out.

I called Sales.  Explained my entire story – politely.  Oh no Sales said they could not help me – I needed to call After Sales – I could call them on 082 1945.

I explained — with a tetchy tone to my voice that I had already been bounced — the guy just spoke louder to make it clear that he could not assist me and if I called After Sales they would sort it out.

After Sales told me to call Retention.  Denzil in Retention explained that no, he could not help, I was at the wrong place I would need to call Upgrades.

At this point I was starting to lose my mind.  I had now been on the phone for an hour or two  — and not one person had apologised or taken responsibility or tried to assist.

This continued to the 8th department — I started to lose consciousness at this point.

Lerato was the person I was chatting to — she told me that I should call After Sales or Customer Service or GO FK yourself or Actually we do not give a Damn, but call them Department, and wanted to give me the number.

I had been patient, I had been polite I had wished them all a good day.

This woman was the final point of where I lost my mind. I said NO I actually was not going to call ANOTHER FERKING DEPARTMENT, I wanted to talk to her Team Leader.

She said that her team leader could not assist me — I figured, sure, probably not but surely a Team Leader, who may lead a team is going to have slightly more investment in not having a customer lose her sh*t and come through and just beat them all to death with a lamp shade.


Lerato explained to me that I needed to call …… another department and speak to that Department’s Team Leader.  She actually said that.

I thought okay. I am done. “Lerato, I want to speak to your Team Leader, call your Team Leader. I demand you put me in direct contact with your Team Leader.  No I insist that you escalate this problem to your Team Leader!”

I was pretty vexed at this point.

There might have been saliva collecting on my chin, and I had stopped blinking —- I was trying to conserve energy, because I felt a full sh*t fit coming on.

She humphed, put her head set on the desk and walked off.

How do I know this?  Because I heard the clunk. I could hear her foot falls as she walked off and there I sat.  And sat and sat.

I am not sure if Lerato just thought, fK it I am not paid enough for this crap, and went out for a donut and a beer.

I have no idea, as I continued to sit there and eventually ——— I kid you not, my call ended up at one of those automated ‘On a scale of 0 – 10, with 0 being hell no, and 10 being yes, definitely — would you refer our service to a friend….” or something of that nature.

Lose my sh&t I did.  Right there.

I had been on the phone for more than an hour hedging close to two.  Every department had purely wanted me to call another department.  Which I had done. I had obeyed the instructions.

Even though they made absolutely no sense to me what so ever.

The only departments I had NOT spoken to was HR, Events and Organising and possibly Call us if your Testicles are sore, because we have a cream for that Department at VODACOM.

Eventually I decided to acknowledge that VODACOM had actually just beaten the will to live out of me.

Me with my can-do attitude.  Me with my professional telephone voice.  VODACOM had just beaten me down and shown they were the big boys and a client really was not going to slow them down.

Also they had a really nice shiny logo and spend a great deal of money on advertising — maybe some can be diverted to customer service.

Customer service where you deal with one person and THAT person takes full responsibility for the call and the problem.  I know it is an off the wall idea — but hey let me just put it out there for you.

VODACOM store which is not actually VODACOM-guy was really helpful.  I bought a SIM card, he said he would send an email to SIM swap and and and …..

Now bearing in mind I have now lost three hours of my day — I then had to do the usual rushing and I am stressed, anxious and well truly *****  OFF at this point.


Oh mother.

The time I would have spent making sure I had moved all my data to a safe spot, had all my passwords and user ID’s sorted and well you know the stuff you need to do a move from one phone to another, did not get done, as I WAS BEING BOUNCED FROM ONE INEPT DEPARTMENT TO ANOTHER.

By the time I got home — the first SIM swap had been made. I sat and moved the new SIM in, and then I had to run around a bit because I was late for kids.  I was frayed and stressed and looked like I had taken a few beatings by that point.

I kept forgetting my name.  And to breath.

Then the next  SIM swap happened.

I now had to move to the iphone 5S — because that had just happened.

I had done none of the preparation.  I am a super organised person. I keep all my stuff in organised lists, and in diaries.

Unfortunately as my entire day had taken a turn for the frustrating, I had not prepared any of my stuff to be able to move information from one phone to another.

I was so buoyed by Lucky and his confidence that I did not run around and go bezerk, because he had smiled and assured me this would be fine.

By this evening I have had to start my new iphone with no ability to move the data or contacts or history from my previous iphone.

My fault – I did not have my stuff organised, and at this stage I can barely think — I cannot NOT have access to my number for any longer whilst I go and find the information.

Right now I am sitting with an empty iphone 5S – my contact lists, my history, my information that I have accumulated over the years is no longer accessible to me.

Keeping all my user names and passwords in one place and accessible was my responsibility.

Screwing me over as a client and single-handedly managing to destroy my day was yours VODACOM.

You assisted in making me so stressed that at a point in this evening I was SCREAMING AT MY CHILDREN because I just needed a few moments to think.  My phone not working correctly is not just because I think phones are cool — it is sort of vital to my income.

You know the income that I use to pay VODACOM amongst other things.

You guys are totally tossers — you have destroyed my day, probably impacted on my weekend, and in end this will take me several weeks of sorting out to get my new phone sorted like my old phone.

I am so angry —- I am so ANGRY WITH VODACOM that I am spewing.

Everything that I was scared of with a SIM swap happened and then more — BECAUSE your inability to assist a client who was desperate, and tried to call your company fell on deaf ears.

Your staff are POORLY trained —- you have absolutely no interest in the knock on effects of today on to me, on to my business.

Your total disregard for me as a client has impacted on me today in a profound level.  When did I as a client get this irrelevant to you?  What did I need to do today differently to get someone, anyone to actually assist me to avert the disaster.

For VODACOM to listen to me — talking. On a phone.  Asking for assistance.  When did I get this invisible to you?




I would change service providers in a heart beat if I did not have to go through a SIM swap and what ever else may sit before me, because I sure as hell know that as a service provider I can pretty much expect you to give me the middle finger as you did all day today.


Well done VODACOM, well done.

I do hope at your next conference where you pat your staff on the back for being so brilliant, so damn good — you possibly give some thought to that fact that: you do NOT train your staff well, do not oversee your call center sufficiently, and do not have built in facilities to escalate a problem, when the same client has called consistently with no results.

My number should have been RED FLAGGED by the third time I called in and escalated to someone who could assist me.

Logic tells me if a client has called you in a space of 24 hours, then something needs to be looked at.  Maybe you need to call the customer then to see if you can assist.  Again, I am looking at this as a client.


Before starting each conversation I stated my number and name — I must assume that my records appear on the screen in front of the customer services person?


{yes I know I am swearing like a drunk pirate, but I am so angry, I am so frustrated, and I am stressed …. maybe tomorrow I will regret this post.  Then I will look at my data and my chat history and my client contacts and all the other stuff that I will need to sort out …. and then I will think again how much I really really hate VODACOM}


For a moment I was rethinking whether saying you SUCK is possibly a bit of a rash thing to say, and I should calm down.

Glanced at my phone, it has now reads NO SERVICE —- which means that something is either wrong with the new SIM ….. and I will need to call your very efficient CUSTOMER SERVICE DEPARTMENT AGAIN – or I will actually just need to go and get a lampshade and walk into one of your call centres and make it very clear that you guys do in fact SUCK.

But I am one client, and what do I matter when you have a shiny logo and all your ads tell us how fantastic you are?

No points for guessing how that is going to go.





Guardians of the Galaxy …. best freaking movie of the year!!

I went to see Guardians of the Galaxy last night.  Not my genre of movie, I was fairly sure I was going to doze off before the opening credits ended.

I had a really late night the night before, and I was feeling rather buggered.  I usually struggle to stay lucid throughout a movie, and I had not really put much stock in to Guardians of the Galaxy.

And.  Like so many things.  I was so very wrong.

Guardians of the Galaxy was fucking amazeballs.

It was so damn good — I have an urge to go and buy another ticket and watch it again, just so I can laugh at the parts where I laughing so hard I missed the other bits.




I was deeply suspicious when I saw the raccoon character. I got that sinking feeling not dissimilar from the floppy eared guy in Star Wars that single-handedly managed to destroy that entire franchise for me.


Guardians of the Galaxy 2014

But Raccoon guy – Rocket is so absolutely brilliant.  You forget he is a raccoon until someone calls him a hamster – then you want to jump to his defense with a “He is a fucking raccoon hybrid re-engineered guy, cut him some slack, because shortly he is going to be kicking your arse all over this screen!!! Motherf*cker!”

No really that is how you start talking fairly early on into this movie.

There is a Jackson Pollock line that is delivered by Chris Pratt …. that is so priceless, and will have you snorting your Large Coke, and spitting popcorn over the seats in front of you.  I won’t spoil it for you.

Take the kids – or don’t.  Really this is a movie you want to savour without any “I need to go to the bathroom ….. now” interruptions.

I wasn’t too sure who Chris Pratt was —- but now I have been firmly emblazoned on my eyeballs.


Really really an outstanding movie!!  The story is clever.  The dialogue is brilliant — the characters are outstanding.  There is nothing I would change.

Gamora: I’m a warrior, an assassin. I don’t dance.

Peter Quill: Really? Well, on my planet, we have a legend about people like you. It’s called Footloose. And in it, a great hero, named Kevin Bacon, teaches an entire city full of people with sticks up their butts that, dancing, well, is the greatest thing there is.

Gamora: …Who put the sticks up their butts?

Oh the fun you will have.

Rocket Raccoon: [about Drax] Metaphors go over his head.

Drax the Destroyer: NOTHING goes over my head!… My reflexes are too fast, I would catch it.



Go and see this movie.  Now.


{in no way was this a sponsored movie review — no tree folk or small animals were harmed in this review — I paid for my one popcorn and large coke zero — and I then ate the large box of Smarties when I got home.  What you look like when you have eaten too many blue smarties ……}


Legalising Marijuana …. no this is actually my question to you….

I am not sure where I sit on this subject.

If I was fighting Stage 4 Lung Cancer and my doctor leaned over and told me that my pain and life would be easier if I went along and used cannabis on a daily basis, I don’t think I would care too much about what the law said.

I am probably still quite conservative when it comes to drugs —- I am a bit of the rules are the rules sort of person, and I struggle to weigh responsible drug use against say drug abuse and wearing hemp and shitting in a forest.  And moving from one drug into stealing your mother’s door knobs for TIK.

That being said I seem to have no issue with my pharmacist handing me a Pick ‘n Pay bag of medication marked anything from S4 to S6 that I take on a daily basis.

I tend to believe a man/woman in a white coat – with or without the stethoscope.  If he happened to hand me a baggy with a bank logo on it, I would be equally inclined to nod and say thank you very much ma’am.

I really am trying to work through the various avenues of the benefits and possible insanity of legalising cannabis.

I do recognise that I self medicate with wine — often, and well that no doubt is doing more damage than cannabis could ever do.

I was sent this link — I believe it is not the most “balanced” interview and debate, so let’s not take too much of this as gospel – William Wallace from Below the Lion and Mamazane Maphanga speaking on behalf of ….. fuck I don’t know where …..  she is having a very irrational debate about Dagga Legalisation on the SABC Newsroom.

Mamazane Maphanga is probably not a great person to bring to this sort of a debate.  She might not be a good representative to take to anything actually.

Who cancelled, so they brought her on?  Wow!  I have heard my son debate better about an extra half an hour of computer time. And he often pulls out a pie chart and sometimes a laser pointer.  She just keeps saying she strongly disagrees.

Okay, got that. Do you have anything else in your arsenal?  No.  Okay, then keep saying “I strongly disagree” —– was it only me who thought that whilst she was making a point, she always looked like she was holding a little roach there ….. it might just be me.

Even if she was arguing venomently against introducing saber toothed tigers selling crack on the local school playgrounds, a quarter way through her rant I would be for it — what ever it is for it.

Just to make her stop.

She needs some sort of medication or at the very least a little afternoon sleep to calm the hang down.  Or to have spent just a bit of time on google.

She has managed to not use ONE fact or statistic in her entire debate …… to be honest after listening to her for a few minutes I am feeling an overriding urge for cannabis myself or maybe just a hemp blanket to smother her with.

You know William Wallace is about to lose his shit when he takes his alice band off ….. this shit just got real.



My question is what are your thoughts around legalising cannabis — and what will you say to your children?

I am still working through my thoughts on this.

And in other impulse control news …..

too much

I resigned ….. because I am sucky


I really enjoy recruitment.  I love finding out about people, and I love finding out what companies do and how they function.  Though not a great people person, I like the mix of people and administration that is recruitment.

I unfortunately am unable to sell.  Cold calling is more painful to me than that time I lost a tampon and had to go to my male GP to retrieve it.

I would rather do that every day than pick up a phone and try to convince someone to use my services.

I misjudged how uncomfortable cold calling would be, and how much of a loathing I would feel for it.

I would spend hours staring at the phone.  Just staring at it.  I was physically unable to pick it up and call someone to try to convince them to use me as a recruiter.

I tried various techniques.  I contacted a trainer who had worked as a recruiter, and asked her to do a one on one training programme with me. I figured, this was a skill I could learn.  Right?

It appears no.  I am not comfortable in social situations with new people.  I have severe issues when it comes to trying to sell anyone anything.

Which I may possibly overcome if it is a small part of my day.

Starting a new desk, with no history, unfortunately means that selling is a large part of my day.  Every day was painful and made me feel physically sick.

I was forcing myself to do something I hated doing, that I could not do, that used to make me feel sick — I would freeze and do nothing, because I was so scared.

This had gone on for a while, and it was not getting better.  My boss and I had spoken about “my alarming inability to make cold calls” and time was not making it any better.

I believed in the beginning I could do it.  I was wrong.  I can’t.

I am fantastic as an account manager – I am great with clients. I am efficient, organised, and anal retentive about detail.  Great account manager material.

Shitty/Hopeless/really should be doing something else sales person.

My boss spoke to me and said that he would need to give me a “poor performance letter” which I understood.  I got this letter.

There was nothing in it that was not true, or inaccurate.  It was however quite alarming to see it in black and white on 80grm bond.

He set some targets and gave me four more months to get myself organised.

I was stunned he was giving me another four months.  I had been sitting at a desk that was not generating any money, and was costing him money each month.  If I was him, I would have escorted me to the door with a thank you note, and a swift kick.

When I read the letter again later in the day — after another painful day — I realised how much this “failing” was affecting me.  How much it was starting to erode my “sense of accomplishment” in all other things.

I had been making cold calls – I was forcing myself to make 10 each day come hell or high water.  I reflected on the day and how much I was hating it, and that tomorrow I would get to do it all over again.  And I was not going to hate it any less.


I thought about the situation and what the options were.

1.  Continue forcing myself to do something that I was physically unable to do.  I had a physical reaction to it and hated each day.

2.  Stop forcing myself to do something that I was not good at, hated, and was starting to flow over into other areas of my life and find something else to do.


I chose option two.

I received the letter on Monday morning.  By Monday evening I knew I needed to resign.  I did not want to do something rash.  I cannot afford to be unemployed.

I do not have a mystery benefactor who is funding my lavish lifestyle of white break and peanut butter.

Even with the fear of facing financial uncertainty could not deter me from the path of what was so obvious.  Necessary.  Vital.

I sat with it for a few days. By Wednesday afternoon I went along to my boss and explained I was going to resign.  He was pleasant and supportive.

I stayed for two weeks — but here was the twist.  I was given a project which required a lot of calling and sourcing people.  I was on the phone pretty much all day – but that did not scare me.  I wasn’t having to sell, and I actually really enjoyed the last two weeks, because this I could do, this I enjoyed.

My last day was Friday before last — I have opted to return to my little recruitment business which I started nearly four years ago, and which has been running really well.

I continued to run whilst I returned back to the formal recruitment position, and for that I am very thankful.

I have some ideas about how I am going to grow it and make it have some other revenue streams.

I am so glad to be back doing something that I enjoy, where I am not consumed by anxiety and fear of impending poor performance, and where every day hangs over me like a guillotine.

I know I made the right decision, but as with all things I am nervous, scared and panicky about how this is going to pan out.  And whether I can get and keep my shit together to do it.



Motherhood wouldn’t be so bad …..


The peaceful majority were irrelevant …..

I found this particularly good —–  

Brigitte Gabriel gives FANTASTIC answer to Muslim woman claiming all Muslims are portrayed badly »



Robin Williams and Why Funny People Kill Themselves ……

Hearing that Robin Williams lost his fight to depression came as a reminder that depression is not some nancy pansy little problem that goes away if you try to be happy.

When (ignorant) people discuss depression and refer to it as an “attitude” and a “choice” I really get all sorts of riled up.

This perception that you can “choose to be a happy person”, that you can “choose to wake up happy” is really tiresome, ignorant and life threatening.

I overheard a discussion yesterday on the radio and the DJ’s were talking about depression and how their respective families view it. 

The one DJ says that if she says she is depressed her family tell her to go for a run and get some fresh air.

There were other really “helpful” suggestions as well.

I agree that often some behaviour does assist you to feel a bit better when you are depressed. But much of this is going to be a thin layer of assistance to a tumor that is festering inside your head and your soul.

Depression as a disease —as diseases go it is a very committed disease.  It has a clear goal.

Depression wants you to kill yourself.  That is what it is planning and trying to do all the time. Simple.  It is a mental disease that is trying to find a way for you to end it all.  It never lets up.  

I cannot put it any simpler.  Yes it sounds harsh, but that is what it is doing, and working at tirelessly.

I have been very lucky that my depression has abated for the most part for the last two or three years.

I can feel him there, scratching at the door some days, but for the most part, I get to function and get through my day without having the oppressive thoughts and feelings following me around.

This does not mean that I still do not think that “all is in actual fact lost” that possibly it is a better option to “just end it all” and that “maybe my life is not worth living.  If I leave now, it will cause less damage than if I leave later and people get too attached to me….”

I have at least one suicidal thought a day.  But it is usually fleeting, and does not take over my entire being.

I am not depressed at the moment — but because it is a permanent part of my fabric, my being, the thoughts and feelings creep into each and every day.

I have sufficient emotional resources – at present – to not let the nagging thoughts, the destructive thoughts, and the darkness from taking firm root.

I am lucky.  At the moment.

Depression is a bit like HIV – once you have it you always have it.  

You can treat it, and you can keep it under control as long as you stick to the strict regime (everyone’s regime is different) – but do not think for a moment that it has gone away.

Depression is a sneaky little bitch and will hide and make you think you have beat that bitch at hide and seek.

You may feel so good some days, even for weeks and then you think “I have beat this thing….” You slowly stop what ever medication or assistance you had been receiving, and sooner or later — usually far sooner than later, you find that it has crept back and invaded your life.

Just as you think that you are sitting on top of the world, it will unfurl itself and wrap it’s arms around you and start to squeeze tight — to remind you that your black dog is always there, waiting, waiting.  Biding his time.  No rush.  He will always be there.  Ever faithful.

Robin Williams —- a man who suffered from depression.  He made it his life’s work to make you and me laugh, at ourselves, at him and situations.  

Robin Williams’ comedy always had that “edge” to it — even at his funniest, there was a sense that his humour was not the “clown humour of the circus” but there was indeed something deep, dark, and complex lurking behind the face paint and bright red nose.

Robin Williams losing his life to depression — is a lesson to me, that I am always at risk.  That I should never be complacent.   

Robin Williams losing his life to depression — reminds me that depression is not a fleeting bad moment, it is a life time of fighting and enduring.

Robin Williams losing his life to depression — saddens me to my core.

Robin Williams losing his life to depression — does not mean depression always wins, it just means that sometimes we lose that one battle.


I read this article, and it is so brilliantly written – I loved the way it shows how it describes so eloquently how people who are funny are often using a mask to protect themselves.  

Their humour is a way for them to cope, for them to connect and for them to feel like they are accepted.

Please pop along and read David Wong’s full article on CRACKED.  

You ever have that funny friend, the class-clown type, who one day just stopped being funny around you? Did it make you think they were depressed? Because it’s far more likely that, in reality, that was the first time they were comfortable enough around you to drop the act.

The ones who kill themselves, well, they’re funny right up to the end.


By now you know that Robin Williams has committed suicide, but I’m not here to talk about him. He’s gone, and you’re still here, and suicidal thoughts are so common among our readers and writers that our message board has a hidden section where moderators can coordinate responses to suicide threats. And in case you’re wondering, no, that’s not a joke — I remember the first time John tracked down a guy’s location and got an ambulance dispatched to his house. Then we all sat there, at 4 in the morning, waiting to hear if they got there in time (they did).


Because Cracked is driven by an army of aspiring comedy writer freelancers, the message boards are full of a certain personality type. And while I don’t know what percentage of funny people suffer from depression, from a rough survey of the ones I know and work with, I’d say it’s approximately “all of them.” So when I hear some naive soul say, “Wow, how could a wacky guy like [insert famous dead comedian here] just [insert method of early self-destruction here]? He was always joking around and having a great time!” my only response is a blank stare.

Read more: http://www.cracked.com/quick-fixes/robin-williams-why-funny-people-kill-themselves/#ixzz3AGAbNdxr


Plowing a field with a VW Caddy …. true story



This is possibly how you can plow a field….


This is not the right implements to use to plow a field ….


Last night I was driving in the Somerset West area.

In my usual way I had ignored my GPS thinking I knew better.

I didn’t – I ended up travelling a route I had not traveled before.  But it was fine, I wasn’t in a rush.  I stopped at a petrol station-come large shopping complex and bought jelly beans and some cooldrink — as you do.

It was around 20h30 or so.

Got back in my car and continued driving.  I knew sort of where I was. I wasn’t lost, so I wasn’t scared, but I was driving a route that I had not driven at night.

No worries.  I had jelly beans.  What could go wrong?

I took a slip way, that I assume like most slip ways, was a straight road that got me off a road and put me onto a national road.

I took the slip way, accelerated, glanced down at the holder in my door to grab my cooldrink, and when I looked up.

I realised I had been wrong about several things.

Jelly beans are not great driving snacks, they make you thirsty.  Glancing off the road for even a split second is less than ideal.

The road it seemed took a 90 degree bend to the left.

This I did not foresee.  It was dark, no street lights, and I thought it was a straight road.  There were no signs saying “hey lookie here this road just fucks off in the total other direction” ….. and no lights to make you realise where the road ended and the field of bad dreams began.

The part where I realised I had made an error was when I looked up and there was just no road.

I was on that gravel/loose tar pieces that usually sits at the end of non-existent roads.

I abandoned the cooldrink.  I slammed on brakes and my VW Caddy with all it’s weight and speed just continued forward.

It was that moment where my life flashed before your eyes.  And everything I have ever stored in any compartment in the vehicle was suddenly jettisoned and appears to fly through the air.

I remembered that for some reason there was a plastic brick under my seat and I wondered if I was going to get that in the head.

I knew there was a large tool kit in the overhead space, and if that hit me in the head, well that would pretty much be the end of where my head would continue to work in it’s present state.

It felt like I had an exhaustible long time to think about all the things in my car, as they sort of flew around the inner cabin.

Then the gravel/loose tar area ended and I found a grass embankment — I continued to brake, because well I had fuck all idea what else to do.

I just wanted to keep the car going straight —– I knew that if I lost control this mother of a car would roll, and well that would be bad for me and the plastic brick under my seat.

And the jelly beans.

I left the gravel area and then moved into a grass field.

No matter what they say about VW Caddies, they are NOT good for plowing fields.

It felt like I plowed that field for a kilometer, and then the grassy knowle kind of came up to meet me.  My car ended up ramping – a little bit {of course in my mind’s eye it was flying through the air for kilometers} – and sort of ending up firmly wedged in a ditch sort of number.

I will be honest.  I traveled through time and space. It lasted a split second.

The car eventually came to a shuddering stop.

Well abrupt halt.  As you do when the nose of your vehicle finds itself firmly embedded in a grass embankment.

I took stock.

What I mean is I said FUCK FUCK FUCK —– FUCK FUCK FUCK —— then took a breath and said FUCK FUCK FUCK — HOLY MOTHER FUCK. JESUS.  I may have named a few other deities, just to ensure I was working my way through every possibly religion.

Eventually I settled on FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME ….. which is not always the right thing to say.  When in a dark field.  By yourself.  In the middle of fuck knows where.

Once I realised I was still breathing, and had all my extremities sort of working.  I tried to start the car.  Fuck yes it started.  I then tried to move forward. Er, no, sorry you have used up all your points for this evening.

I stumbled out of the car — I actually stumbled. It was a muddy field. Dark. Like nothing.  No where.

I thought okay, find phone, stumble to road, phone for help — figure out where the hell you are.

In so doing a passing car nearly ran me over.  She also missed the turn.  She then got out of her car came over to me, and asked if I needed a hug.  Of course I do, strange person.  No I really did — we stood there and hugged each other like we had both just discovered the secret to how they get the chocolaty bits into Haagen Das ice-cream.

After we hugged.  I stumbled back to my car.  I am not sure why, I thought if I just went over there and stared at it, it would miraculously get out of the fucking ditch and I could carry on with my evening.

I seriously fucked up a really good pair of high heel shoes.

At this point two tow trucks arrived, an ambulance — I then told them about the jelly beans and the juice.

The ambulance personnel suggested I take a little walk with them — I reassured them I was fine. I was not hurt.  I was just totally fucking floored.  And maybe starting to toddle into the area of hysteria.

My friend arrived to help me.  My car was so firmly entrenched in that field, that nothing was going to get it out.  I was so relieved to have somewhere there to help me, because I needed all my energy to have a total breakdown.

Martin, the tow truck driver then set up a little pulley system and pulled my rather large car out of it’s position.  He was so brilliant.  I might have also told him the jelly bean story.

I think I was a little hysterical.  And obsessed about jelly beans.

Lady in the car said she would stand with me until my car was out.

Car eventually came out.  Body work was well a bit like you would expect it to be after plowing a field.

I got into the car to drive it to my friend’s house – which was pretty close to the now plowed field –  because there was no way I was going to get very far in it’s present state, or back home.

I have been driving for about 20 years. I have never been in an accident.   Not even a fender bender.  I was absolutely freaking my bean out there on the side of the road.

Last night shook me to my core. I feel petrified of how that could have gone. I feel relieved and thankful that it had gone so well. I feel an overriding urge to go to the bathroom and throw up.

I feel like I should say LUCKY ME.  Because fucking hell, LUCKY ME —- it could have been so much worse.  LUCKY LUCKY ME!


{if any part of this post sounds half baked, it is because I did not sleep on Monday night, I am over tired, over wired, I have just taken a handful of make me feel a bit less stressed, anxious and just over the top —- and my sleeping tablets are also kicking in —– so apologise if any of the above sounds like …… well like I have a concussion or an internal bleed …… or just need to sleep}

Are you brave enough to let me see your peacock?

I was reminded yesterday again of how innocent Georgia is …. and how her mind works on an entirely different channel to the rest of us.

Kennith had bought a Katy Perry CD.  Seemed like a good idea, I had never listened to the entire CD.  I do now.  I get to hear it 3 – 5 times per day.

Georgia and Isabelle both sing all the songs, and have various dance routines.

The song I found the most disturbing — lyrically — was this one:

Are you brave enough to let me see your peacock?
Don’t be a chicken boy, stop acting like a bitch
I’m a peace out if you don’t give me the pay off
Come on baby let me see
What you’re hidin’ underneath
Are you brave enough to let me see your peacock?
What you’re waiting for, it’s time for you to show it off
Don’t be a shy kinda guy I’ll bet it’s beautiful
Come on baby let me see
What you’re hidin’ underneath

I wanna see your peacock, cock, cock
Your peacock, cock
Your peacock, cock, cock
Your peacock, cock

The rest of the lyrics are here —— if you need them.

Any ho —- it is one of those that you do not really take cognisense of until your 5 and 9 year old are screaming “I want to see your cock” at full lung strength.

So yesterday we are driving home and I am using the time wisely to catch up on parenting things I might have missed.  You know just keep the Waltons Family experience going in our home.

Me:  So, Georgia, you know that Katy Perry song you sing —- the one about The Peacock …. do you not think it is a bit inappropriate?

Georgia: But peacocks are what they are called.  They are birds mom.

Me: Yes, I know Georgia, but in the song it does not use the whole word all the time ……. {I look at her knowingly} …… and do you not think that it is a bit rude …. or inappropriate?

Georgia: ……. {I can see her mind working}…….

Georgia: …… {like a light of understanding comes on}……….. oooohhhhhh you are right …. it is a bit rude.

Me: {Thinking wow this was easier and much less awkward than I had thought it was going to be —– this people is me winning at parenting}

Georgia:  If you say part of the word for peacock it is pea and that is a homonym for pee, like wee, and that is rude to ask to see someone’s wee … yuck ……and pea is also like the vegetable that you eat.  But it is rude to see someone’s pee and ask to see their pee, hey?

Me: {this has suddenly taken a turn that I had not expected}

Connor sitting in the back of the car is about to throw up he is laughing so hard ……. he keeps screaming AWKWARD …… as he gasps for air.

At that moment I sat and looked at Georgia with her large hazel eyes, and her face free of worry lines and creases.  Her expression that the worst thing she could get out of PEACOCK was pea.

I realised that she is just that.  An absolute innocent.

I decided to kiss her on the forehead, give her a squeeze and leave it.

I wasn’t going to spoil this song for her – and make her think of seedy things when she was happily singing about a bird.  Or urine.








I am such a cheap parent ….

I told the kids we are going to wash the car tomorrow.  But I made it sound like an adventure and a treat.

I really wanted to get at least one of them siked, so I focused on Isabelle.  She is tiny, she is toony,  she is a bit …. well you can finish that off yourself.

I told her I was going to give her the hose pipe responsibility.

It is like Xmas is August.  For Isabelle.  Not so much for the other two.  They are on to me and my child labour plan.

It’s fine, I will bribe them with something, or another.


Side bar story.  A few weeks back it was Kate’s birthday.  Priv had ordered a HUGE HUGE GI-NORMOUSLY HUGE cream cake for her birthday party.  After the party we got into the car to drive home, and at one point the only person who could hold it was Georgia.

I never give Georgia things to hold.  Because she forgets she is holding something, and then it falls.

But this is a huge white and pink cake, I figure she can’t forget.

I was wrong.

I slow down — and she forgets to hold the cake.  One cream cake gets launched across the inside of the car, and hits everything in it’s way.  Do you know how many crevices and tiny spaces cream cake can get itself into?  Surprisingly more than you would realise.



Everyone I know is brokenhearted

A link to this blog post popped up on my Facebook feed — it is a long post, but worth sitting down and reading.

The blogger is:

My name is Josh Ellis. I’m a writer, editor, former newspaper columnist, full stack web designer and developer (with a focus on PHP, JS, Node and the Meteor framework) and musician. I’ve traveled and lived all over the world, but I currently make my home in Yakima, WA, the “Palm Springs of Washington State”.


This is probably one of the truest, most profound, most painful, most concise, most clear, most what-the-fuck-is-happening here ones you are going to read in a long time.

Read it now, or bookmark to come back when you have some more time.


All the genuinely smart, talented, funny people I know seem to be miserable these days. You feel it on Twitter more than Facebook, because Facebook is where you go to do your performance art where you pretend to be a hip, urbane person with the most awesomest friends and the best relationships and the very best lunches ever. Facebook is surface; Twitter is subtext, and judging by what I’ve seen, the subtext is aching sadness.


I’m not immune to this. I don’t remember ever feeling this miserable and depressed in my life, this sense of futility that makes you wish you’d simply go numb and not care anymore. I think a lot about killing myself these days. Don’t worry, I’m not going to do it and this isn’t a cry for help. But I wake up and think: fuck, more of this? Really? How much more? And is it really worth it?


In my case, much of it stems from my divorce and the collapse of the next relationship I had. But that’s not really the cause. I think that those relationships were bulwarks, charms against the dark I’ve felt growing in this world for a long time now. When I was in love, the world outside didn’t matter so much. But without it, there is nothing keeping the wolf from the door.


It didn’t used to be like this when I was a kid. I’m not getting nostalgic here, or pretending that my adolescence and my twenties were some kind of soft-focused Golden Age. Life sucked when I was young. I was unhappy then too. But there was always the sense that it was just a temporary thing, that if I stuck it out eventually the world was going to get better — become awesome, in fact. –

See more at: http://zenarchery.com/2014/08/everyone-i-know-is-brokenhearted/#sthash.44zsdu2C.dpuf

Fixing the pool and wearing your underwear on the outside ….


Our house has a pool.

I am not sure if you have a pool, but we have been lucky enough to have a pool in the last two houses we have lived in.

I never had a pool growing up, so am still thankful that we get to have one.  I used to swim, but now that I feel like I could body double for Orca, I am less inclined to emerge myself in water with anyone watching.

The kids however love the pool – and get use out of it for a good 6 months of the year.

Pools are great.  For kids.

I have always avoided having anything to do with the maintenance of the pool.  I used the theory that I seemed to be involved in so much else, I would use the tactic of not “understanding” the way the pool worked to avoid it being my responsibility.

I know it is not helluva confusing or difficult, I just wanted it to remain Kennith’s responsibility.

When ever he spoke to me about the pool, I had that blank expression, like I was no longer understanding English and would mutter something like ¿No habla(s) inglés? while shrugging.

It seemed to work, and the reality is that I never had to touch the pool.

Kennith moved out on the 1 March, he has popped in now and then and has done something in the corner by the pool pump.  I decided – clearly rather short sightedly – to continue my absolute embargo on taking on any information regarding the pool.

The pool turned a pond green about three weeks ago, and I sort of figured if I ignored it, it would turn blue.

I was not going to stand for tantrums from this pool just for some attention. No sirree.

Pool got greener and greener.

On Friday I went along and stared at the pool pump. I took off the cover and stared at it some more.

It was not dissimilar from when your car does not work, and after turning the ignition key a few dozen times, swearing like a pirate, you go over pop the hood of the car, look at the engine. Sort of push on one or two things, and think somehow you are going to know how to fix the car.

I did pretty much the same thing.

I really was hoping for a button that said “push me and it will work again.”

No button like that.  I checked.

I switched things on, off, turned dials — no idea what I was doing.

Pool remained green, creepy lay there like a dead and lifeless non-sucking thing at the bottom of the green ooze.

Today I thought I would go and push buttons, but it rained a storm today.  So instead I stared at the pool through the window and thought “fuck, I will need to call in a pool guy…”

It stopped raining for a bit, and I went out to the pool pump.


To cut a long and wet story short, it turned out there was a plastic bag stuck in the creepy, I got that out, and then noticed that the pump sounded different, and the valve on the side of the pool suddenly had a bit more suck and spit to it.

It took a while, but creepy got a bit of a life and started sucking away.

I can’t recall the last time I was so proud.  Of my pool maintenance skills.

I have a feeling there are going to be many occassions like this where I stand and wonder if I should just call Kennith and he can come and fix this, or I should rather stand there for three days and curse it under my breath before I go and actually see if I can actually fix it.

I must say I felt quite invincible today.  Like I had a cape, some yellow tights and wore my underwear on the outside.

I am still looking at my creepy rather fondly, as if somehow it was because of me that he now lives.

Tomorrow it is leaping tall buildings in one bound.








What on line daters fear meeting the most ….



I went on a date recently with a really nice guy, he was really funny and had a few disaster dates before, which made for good stories.

The one he tells was that the person he met, neither of them recognised each other as the photographs she had used looked nothing like she did in real life.

He also said she had a “bit more girth” than her photo indicated.  I raised an eyebrow a bit at that description, then he said “it looked like she took her photo in her summer body, but she came to the date in her winter body….” which I thought was really funny.

This has got to be the funniest thing I have seen this week …

{wipes snot off cheek from laughing so hard}