Drunk dialling and other interesting stories ….

You know how you get people who talk in their sleep and people who walk in their sleep…

There are also people … or just one person …. who SMS’s in her sleep.  That would appear to be me.

Drinking not necessary.  It doesn’t help, but it is not necessary.

I have done it before, but usually it is harmless and usually just an SMS’s that make no sense because the spelling is so bad.

No harm done.

Except that once where I took photographs of Dexter (my boston terrier) and posted them on Facebook and told the entire world of social media who follow me —- which is about 12 people —- that I am going to marry Dexter.  It was a very passionate Facebook status update, and I was feeling particularly close to him that day.

Back to last Thursday.

I was not drunk.  I decided I needed an early night, and I went to sleep at 21h15.  I recalled the time distinctly, as I looked at the time on my phone and thought, wow that is early, but dang I am so tired.

Then I went to sleep.

Then I woke up at 21h30 and proceeded to pick up my phone and merrily engage with the universe.

How did I know?

When I woke up on Thursday morning all bright and bushy tailed and glanced at my phone, there seemed to have been a lot of activity on my phone.

I was a bit perplexed by the amount of messages popping up, and also I could not understand that  context.

I thought someone had died, or the sky was falling and Chicken Little had been right all along.

It took me a few moments of rubbing sleep out of my eyes, and trying to punch in my password to understand what all the fluffle was about ….. then I went to read the history of the messages, and realised …..

Er — what? Or as said WHAT THE FUCK!!! ….. WHAT THE FUCK??? ………..nooooooooooooooooooooooooo?

It was so bad, so very bad, and so …. just bad, that I first had to do an audit of how many people this affected.  Fortunately the total count was two, which is far better than five or what ever it could have been.

Two is not a good number in itself, but it is better than a number say bigger than two.

Both people I did not know terribly well.  Both people would not be people I would engage in this sort of banter with.  And definitely not when I was fast a freaking sleep.

Can you spell “please let the earth swallow me up now, and the VODACOM network go first and take all these messages with them….”

I seldom use the term “mortified” but hell’s bells I was mortified.

I walked around last Thursday a very deep shade of cerise, and I spent what ever time I had trying to apologise and explain, and really try to extricate myself from the situation(s) that I had managed to create.

Of course when I read the messages “sleeping me” had written, I saw that they sort of started off sounding a bit like me, but the grammar, spelling and sentence structure was so bad, that there is just no way I would send an sms like that.

But short of telling people I had been kidnapped and forced at gunpoint to continue this bizarre cell phone discussion with them, there was nothing else further to do than apologise, apologise again, and then apologise the third time …. and for me to quietly just slink away.

Since Thursday, I realised that a really good tactic would be to toss my phone into the back of my cupboard, on my way to bed.

Ivedal it seems is to blame — it causes a bit of amnesia at a certain point. There is no guarantee that at that point your brain has told your body to lie down and stay down.

I have done a few other bizarre things in my I-thought-I-was-sleeping past, but this was the final straw.  Got a new script, trying out something else to help me sleep, and maybe SMS a bit less.

More crazy I can’t do.



It’s not you … it’s me …..

Dear Blog Land

I must apologise to not writing to you more often.

I have missed you – desperately.  It’s not you, it’s me.

I know the excuse of the “busy season” is a good one, but I am not really that bus.  I would be less than truthful if I used that as a “get out of jail free” card.

I have dozens of  “draft” posts I just can’t publish, and there they sit in limbo, a bit like me.

I have a few things going on that have well and truly been a case of someone walking over and driving a construction nail through my ear, and then asking if we could chat about the fit, and whether it can be hammered in a bit more every other day.

I am strangely not depressed.  I know the denial is a sign of depression.  I am fine in that arena.  I think.

I am even more strangely not in a case of high anxiety or stress.

I just have some things going on in my personal life that give the phrase “total and absolute mind fuck” a really bad name.

I am not at liberty at this stage to blog about it, but it is an issue that has well and truly taken over every thought and every breathe, and I feel blogging without being able to share what is really going on makes me feel like I am being “less than” and I am not a fan of being “less than.”

I beg your indulgence for a little while.  I can’t blog about the stuff that is actually going on, and the result is that I feel unable to blog about anything else.

I will really appreciate you not, at any stage, telling me “things happen for a reason” and more importantly to “everything will be okay in the end ….” promise me, we will never say those things to each other!

Okay, so this note is to tell you that I am still alive. I have not quite run off to Mexico with my takealot R600.00 voucher …. I tried, but it seems that shall not be.

I am still very much here – but not actually “here” if you take my meaning.

Okay peeps, unicorns, rainbows and happiness to you for 2014 – alternatively a good after school care system, and daily wine deliveries.

Who else in the world is counting the days until they can drop their children off with alternate child care workers and scream “hiddy ho mother f#ckers” as they burn rubber exiting the parking area?

Or is it just me?

newyears resolution