When I’m home alone and there’s no one around to see me do it… I watch Egoli. That’s my dirty little secret. And lately, I’ve taken to watching Temptation SA as well. I’m hooked. It might actually be more unhealthy than just hooked, because I talk to, nay I coach, the contestants.
“Ernie Els… say it… Ernie Els! You know the answer… coooome ooooon!” I encourage, knowing full well that not only can’t they hear me, but it’s also pre-recorded. I can’t help it. I’m a trivia junkie. I’m hooked.
Wednesday evenings rock: (Egoli), Temptation SA, War at home (okayish – has moments), My Name is Earl (reminds me so much of two ‘special’ friends) and Scrubs. Now that’s some funny shit.
What is NOT funny is Laugh Out Loud. Please tell me no one out there who has access to M-Net watches it. If you do, stop reading. I’m sorry, but this relationship is not going to work. Jeremy Mansfield is vaguely funny on the Rude Awakening, largely due to the spontaneity and the group interaction. But making celebrities so upset that they are - most times - almost reduced to tears is not funny.
‘We made you believe your proud acquisition of a lovely new car was mangled underneath a ton of bricks before you had a chance to insure it! SUCKER!’ How is that funny? Am I missing something?
Back to today: as I opened the door to leave the house this morning, the neighbour’s cat came scurrying in. So I had to dump all the stuff I was carrying (handbag, cellphone, keys, lunch and hockey kit) and chase cat out from under couch. Then cat climbed into car with me. Dump stuff, chase cat out from behind driver’s seat…
Finally on my way to work when the Highveld DJ chose to play a song with these lyrics:
“You’re turning more than… my radio on.
You’re turning more than… my radio on.
You’re turning more than… my radio on.
My radio… my radio… my radio… my radio on.”
I shit you not. Word for word. I know cos I made a point of memorising the catchy and witty lyrics. By the M Fame People, or something. I think those words deserve a great big WTF?
Then Mlo and I decided to go to Fournos for an early morning cholesterol run. This entailed turning our quiet, productive open-plan office into a fish market.
“Okay, who wants what from Fournos? Choc croissant… how many? Who else? What muffins? Okay… money up front, peeps. Right… something creamy and pastry… got it… No raisins. Cool…”
On the way to Fournos, Mlo and I separated to draw money, but still managed to both step in the same puddle of sticky something. And I almost got taken out by a boom – and when I recounted my story to Mlo, her nonchalant reply was, “Oh that happened to me yesterday.”
We are one and the same.
At Fournos we managed to piss off about 7 different patrons, as we held up the bakery queue with calls back to the office: “Hi Bongi, I was trying to get through to Kerry, ja, just stand up and shout this message to her won’t you? No blueberry muffins. There’s banana, walnut, poppyseed and… what’s the one with the green bits in it? Spinach. Poppyseed? Okay.”
Then again at the check out till: “Okay, this order is on its own. But the choc croissant goes with the bran muffin. No, that change goes with the chocolate coated crunchie… wait, wait, that’s gotta be paid with this R10. And the R8 is for the chelsea bun…”
They hate us.
And then we got to sit in almost three hours of training for a new computer system that’s not quite finished but that we’re expected to grasp and be competently using by about 3pm this afternoon.
And yet I still have time to post. Priorities are sorted.
Ps. I hope Boyfriend finally finds it in him to wash the dishes I asked him to do last night, and then again this morning. 5am-ish is a good time to pounce on him, because I could ask him pretty much anything and he would agree, hug me, roll over and go straight back to sleep. Must keep that in mind…