Fucqing Spookasem!

Friday night, Mel and I realize that it is one week to Beltaine and that there is a shit load of things that we still need to buy. So we, well I arrange that Paul goes to Mirelle to play games and Mel and I go shopping after work. So we get the boys McDonalds and we decide to grab a bite to eat while at Canal Walk.

Well we started off by having to turn back home twice. Once for the Beltaine monies and second time for my wallet.

On the way to Canal Walk. We HAVE to remember that Mirelle asked us for 6 bags of Spookasem (Candy Floss). Besides for all the shopping we need to do, We HAVE to remember the 6 bags.

At Canal Walk we first go to Pick and Pay to get Mel some rolley papers for her tobacco and we walk right past the Spookasem. We see a Bargain Books sale in the Centre Court and we have a look-see. Good thing we did, cuz we got a very nice colouring in book. Then we  decide to go to Spur and we sit on the balcony. The VIP as we called it, since ours was the only table there. Sitting at this lovely scenic table, overlooking the river without gondolas, we realize that neither of us brought a copy of the Beltaine shopping list with. Now we have to attempt to reconstruct a shopping list. I have to tell you that both Mel and I have really terrible memories. That’s why we make lists, to remember stuff. We however neglected to remember the list. I don’t know how long we were at the spur but when we got out of there we only had an hour left before the shops would close. This however didn’t make us loose focus at all. The jewellery shops and Book shops, did however break our focus and before we knew it we were just about ushered out of Exclusive books!

So we walk to where you pay your parking ticket, outside, and as we stand in the queue, both of us at the same time say loudly “Spookasem!!” The shops are closed and we forgot the Spookasem. The one important thing that we had to get, we are now without. So one the way walking to the car, we try to figure out where on the Goddesses green Earth can we find Spookasem at this time of night. We plan a route home that could include 24 hour garage shops.

Three garage shops later, we had gotten them free Wimpy balloons and a bought them slush puppies, but still no Spookasem for Mirelle.  We are so in the kak, or as Mel puts it, poopoo. At this point we are contemplating buying sugar and trying to make it ourselves. How hard can it be right? But we decided against it, due to Mel’s baking skills and my Milktart episode. Then we considered taking sugar to Andre but didn’t think that he would be impressed with us. But he can bake and cook, so he must know. We also contemplated going to Tulbagh for the remainder of the weekend, in an attempt to run away.  Hoping that they miss us so much that they forget about the damn Spookasem. Fat chance of that happening. I have a more likely chance to become pregnant.

At the BP where we got the Slushies the cashier, a blond guy named Leon, tells us that the Minimart in Milnerton closes in the next 15 minutes! So in the car we go off to Milnerton Minimart. We storm in there, bags flying and Slushies in hand, only to be told that they do not have any Spookasem. We go back to the car and I see two South Afican Flags. So Mel goes in and while this woman is counting her tills money, she tells her that because they don’t have Spookasem she wants a Flag and if they wont give her one, then she will hold them Ransom for one. Her eyes stretch and she just about dies. The other cashier is now doubled over with laughing at us that keeps on telling them “we are in the kak because you don’t sell Spookasem”. From there Mel remembers about a shop in Bothasig next to pub called cheers.

At this point we have contemplated giving them a shooter and telling them it’s called Spookasem, running away, sneaking back into the house and pretending we were there all along, cutting up KFC into very thin strips and tell them it’s new chicken flavoured Spookasem, making it ourselves, get Andre to make it, get Nina to make it, going to the Waterfront and running away to Tulbagh.  We reach the new store and there is also no Spookasem. We decide one more shop. Some small dodge shop in Bothasig. This is the last one. If this one doesn’t have it, then we know the Goddess has forsaken us and we will soon meet her again. Accepting our impending doom, we find in the shop 6 bags of Spookasem.

We ask them to look for more, but they only have 6. But 6 is good. We are cheering and going bos! People are looking at us, as if they never had a need to buy something for their spouses.

Two Wimpy Balloons, Three Sluchies, 6 Bags of Spookasem, Four Books and two stolen hangers (it was lying in a trolley) later we arrive home.

"Before all you self-rightous people freak out about the stolen hangers, they were in a trolley at Canal Walk, which was threatening to crash into the car. I always need hangers so I took them"

As we stop the car, Mirelle knocks on Mel’s window and says “See I can read minds”. Mel looks at me and quietly say “Well then we’re fuced!”. That was it, for the rest of the night we could not stop laughing.

Now as we drive past that little dodge shop in Bothasig, we comment “Our Salvation”!

Mwah!!

Lazy Cape Townians.

We are currently in the process of organizing this years Beltaine event. We are bending backward and stretching ourselves to pieces to make this event happen. In the beginning of the year when we started talking about this event Pagans from all over Cape Town were so excited to make this happen. Now the time is here and people have have 3million excuses and reasons as to why they cannot make this happen.

I find that the most common excuse is that people say it is too far to drive. I have to admit that this is a Cape Town thing that has ALWAYS annoyed the living shit out of me. I am a Cape Townian and proudly so. I love this city and I am so happy to be from here instead of from anywhere else in South Africa. This year we were voted the 23 best city in the world to visit. We have also been nominated for the Wall Street Journal's Most Innovative City of the Year award. I truly do love this city.

The one thing that I hate is not the city itself but the sleg vokken hang gat attitude of people. Getting anyone to do anything is a fucqing mission of note. And Goddess forbid you have to drive anywhere and it takes you 20 minutes. Then you have to hear them bitch and fucqing moan that it is such a far drive. I hate that about Cape Townians. No let me reiterate that that. I HATE!!!! that about Cape Townians. Yes I get that Gas/Petrol is expensive and that a liter of it costs more than a liter of Coke n Cola. But then say you have a petrol problem. Then there are people that I know can afford petrol but they are too kak sleg to drive for 30 minutes to get anywhere.

“I don’t like driving so far”

That is the one thing that I respect about Johannesburg. There you have to drive for an hour to fucqing get anywhere and the people do it. They are committed to what they want to do.

I have people who live in Bellville that do not want to come to classes cuz its two far. It is literally ten minutes. Parow and Bellville are right next to each other. A road seperates the two.  They want someone in Bellville to go to for teacings and if they cannot find such a person then they are not gonna do it. I have the answer for you. Jy is vokken kak sleg  and you are not serious about your teachings at all.

I travelled to moer and gone for my teachings. Had to arrange lift clubs, extra train tickets and and and, but I fucqing did it because it was important for me. It is something that I really wanted to do. It was important to me. I didn’t bitch that I lived in Avondale and classes where in Pinelands and Tableview.

The problem is that people just want things to be made comfortable for them so that they do the minimal work. Especially these fucqing Cape Townians.

I have students that travel from Kraaifontein and Kuilsriver and Blouberg. I have people that come from Fishhoek for Rituals, and then you wanna bitch and moan about travelling back at night or travelling too far.

Then people said that it would be different if they could stay over for the night. A lot people spoke about camping. So what do I do? I get a venue for Beltaine where people can camp over for the night. With a bonfire and a Maypole and everything that everyone has been asking for so that no one can complain. So what happens then? People bitch that they don’t want to drive to Worcester and that they don’t want to camp for the night. So far I don’t know who is coming and who is not, and frankly I am don’t fucking care anymore. I am done stressing over it. I am going to host a Beltaine. I don’t know if it will be a success or not. I just know that NPT will be there and we wil have a fucqing blast and enjoy every moment of it.  Fucqing Cape Townians and their fucqing lazyness ana dspoon feed attitudes.

For those of you that are supporting this event, Thank you so much!!! You are the best people alive!!! Thank you!! I love you so much!!!

Mwah !!

You can support Beltaine here on our Facebook Page

https://www.facebook.com/groups/395762593823182/

Turning 30

Before I start, let me just say that this is not a Jab at anyone’s age. This is an article about me and the fact that I am facing 30. If you have insecurities about your age and take this personally, well tough shit, as you have been warned.

I know that in the bigger scheme of things 30 is not old. Most of my friends are like 40 and up.  Not all, but most. I know that compared to them I am still n laaitie, nat agter die ore. But here is the thing. I am turning 30 in less than a month. The big 3-0. Slowly surrendering the things of youth and walking into an adult life that is meaningful. Or so they say. The other thing they say is that it is the start of my dirty 30’s. Really? Can it get any dirtier. I am already into all the BDSM things. I already tie him down and we already do things that will make most people run for hills and makes us 50 shades of very fucking exciting and dirty.  Secret Garden se moer.

But I am freaking out just a little bit about this 30 thing.  According to case studies done this year the average male life expectancy in this country is 48 and in the world is 67. Yes I know that 90% of stats are bullshit, hehehehehe, thanks Frankie. But even if we say that I will live to 90, which I highly fucking doubt, it still means that a third of my life is over. Gone. So weg soos laas maand se pay.  I will never get it back. I will never be able to redo it, I will never be able to change what I have done. It’s not that I have regrets. Not at all. Well I do have one, but that is personal. But OMG I am almost 30. Gravity is really doing a number on me lately and my damn metabolism is about as useful as a  man at a lesbian feminist group sex session.

I am coming to grips with the fact that I will never again be that young skinny sexy little boy that Paul first met. I realize that I should however embrace the more distinguished look the more gentleman like qualities and the lets say sophistication of age. ………………..yea you all also so the problem there didn’t you?

Firstly I still dress like I am part of some weird experiment that went horribly wrong in the 80’s and the only reason it is continuing is because people are curious to know what the fucq is gonna happen next. Believe me, so am I. I dont dress like this because I seek attention, as some people suggest. I dress like ths cuz I truly am cumfy in what I wear. I truly do like what I wear and feel. Planning what I will be wearing for the mourning of my youth (otherwise known as a birthday party) is killing me, all I have left to work with is legs. My waist might be big enough to feed a small country but my legs are still good. So I will be wearing something Lady Gaga, meets Cher, meets Winehouse, meets Fucqup Fairy, meets Bjork.

Lets face it, I wont have to look at me during the night. All of you do however. Sucks being you, hehehehehehe

But also this 30 thing has got me thinking on my achievements and what I have done and children. And let me tell you about all of this. Firstly, what I have done is amazing. Spiritually I have done quite a bit, not enough and not on Ghandi's level but a bit. I look at my portfolio and sometimes can’t believe that, that is me. On a fashion level, I have opened the door for circus freaks everywhere to just wear whatever makes them feel comfortable and makes them feel good about themselves. I am a God amongst insects hehehehehe oh and circus freaks. Another thing that I have done is to be a medical miracle. I have very recently been for a check up and my liver is in perfect shape. I nearly dropped my drink when the doc said that. I couldn’t believe it. As in not that it is doing ok and I should drink less or that it’s coping. No it is in 100% perfect shape. Fucqing unreal I tell you.

As for children, I still don’t want any. Every time I think I am getting a little broody then I just spend 5 minutes in the company of one of my plethora of nephews and I am cured. Teenagers especially drive me fucqing insane and it’s a good thing I don’t have any cuz I would be in jail and I would probably be BIG Bubba. 

So putting things down on paper, or rather screen (as my life coach would suggest, this is a nice word for Psychologist), makes me get some perspective about this 30 thing. And I realize that if I am gonna die at 48, then so be it, it’s a fucqing miracle I am still alive in anyway.

So bring the bollie and the fags (both kinds) bring the fabulous and the entertaining, gay and queer, the drag queens and the dikes. Bring the circus freaks and my ringmaster hat. Bring your wigs and your strapons, your garters and your g-strings. Bring everything that makes you so fucqink fabulous and lets kick the shit out of this birthday together!!!

Mwah!!

Fairytale Land Rolemodels.......?

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Not the Pagan Yellow Pages

I have to just say that I realize that I was the one to open the door for advertising to happen on this page. This has however been completely ripped out of proportion. 

Its not really that I opened the door as such. I write about the things that happen in my life. Good or bad. The Bad things, like the hate mail, seemed to get a lot of peoples attention and it was great for ratings, so please send me more!! The good is entertaining but people don’t like to read about the good things only. They want to laugh and cry and go bos bevok. The story about how Paul came into my life was a also a huge success.And people are still asking for more installments of it.

I write about my experiences at certain places that I advertised for as well. Not because those places asked me, but because I felt that the service was spectacular and wanted to tell people about it. There are also horrible places that I have been to.  Like Madam Taitou in Cape Town Long Street. 

The most awesome looking place. It has this New Orleans Voodoo vibe going there. The ambiance is really awesome. The look is so damn brilliant, with the upstairs and downstairs alcove's. 

The service is up to shit. Every single thing on the menu that we ordered was out of stock. They didn’t have anything we tried to order. The waitress had a “if I really have to help you” attitude and the owner who was there as well couldn’t care less. I would not recommend anyone go there. Unless its just to see what it looks like. The worst part almost is that the wiatress didt even know if they were out of something. Everything we ordered, she would come back 5 minutes later and very pathetically apologize that they don't have it. We didnt stay there. We didnt eat or drink anything there in the end, we just left. 

The reason also why I mention it here is so that you can get the idea that I write about my experiences. I cannot suck shit out of my ass and write about that. If you want me to write about you well then at least meet me or give me the opportunity to experience your services.

Now I will admit that I had no idea that this blog is as popular as what it apparently is among people. People from all over the world read this little blog. Who knew? Even one of my celebrity boyfriends on the side column of this blog (whom by the way no one has ever commented on except for Dieter) reads this blog. Now even though I had no idea how popular this damn blog is, apparently y’all did. Let me explain everything that I have been rambling about until now.

I am getting emails from people that I have never met in my entire fucking life, asking me to mention them in this blog. I am getting people who are trying to get their businesses off the ground to write reviews for them .

So for these people that have been hounding me to write either for or about them, let me just explain a few things.

1.     I don’t think that many people read this blog.

2.     Even if a million people read my blog, I am not Jesus or Ghandi or some or other fucking miracle worker. People don’t read what I have had to say and then follow it to the letter.

3.     I am not even famous. How do you think that mention of you in my blog will make you famous when I am not famous, and it’s my fucking blog.

4.     Lastly and most importantly, do I look like a fucking Yellow Pages for Pagans?

I don’t mind helping people where I can. When I decide to help, I really help. I do all I can. Sometimes people throw my offer to help, right back in my face, as a certain organization recently did, and sometimes my help goes a long way to getting that person or group started.  But I surely DO NOT hold the monopoly on Pagan advertising.  Go to places like witchvox and advertise there.

I am not sure why people think that by mentioning them in the blog they will become famous as if by osmosis. As a matter of fact, I am not all that much loved in the community. Largely due to the fact that I call a spade a fucking shovel. So people don’t tend to listen to me. You would be better off advertising yourself.

Some one told me that I am famous and that, that’s why they asked me. My darling as I have already said, NO..... I am sure as shit not famous. Not by the longest shot.  I cannot be famous as there is no Fake Porn of me on the Internet……None. Bwhahahahahahahaha.

So in conclusion. Please stop asking me to advertise things for you. And if you really believe that advertising by me can make a difference, then at least invite me over. Introduce yourself. Let me experience the service that you want to have advertised. But if you just send me a random mail asking me to write about you………you can go fuck yourself.

Have a nice day!

Mwah!!

Bestuurs Bom!!

Laas Donderdag aand oppad na Cecilia se huis toe, om haar af te drop, besluit ek mos toe dat ek het nou 'n by in my gat en wil leer hoe om te bestuur. Ja ek het ook drie glase wyn in my gat gehad maar ek doen enige iets beter met 'n bietjie motiveering van my friend Namaqua.

Ek vra vir Paul of ek kan bestuur, dis net soos twee draaie en ses blokke na Cecilia se huis toe. Hy vra toe hoeveel wyn het ek al gehad? Ek se: “Net drie glase”. 

Stilte........ 

Ek vra weer en hy se nee. Ek draai om na Cecilia en se haar “Nou sien, hoe moet ek leer as niemand my wil leer nie?”

Volgende oomblik stop die kar en toe ek weer kyk staan Paul lanks my en se: “Nou toe kom, bestuur.” Ek is oor die die wolke, maar my bene is swaar en soos ek uit die passesiers kant klim bewe my kniee so erg dat dit smaak my ek gaan enige oomblik neer bliksem. Maar met een of ander God se genade maak ek dit tot binne die bestuur stoel en daar sak my suiker.

Skielik is dit of ek agter die stuur van n viegtuig sit. 'n Miljoen knoppies en dials en goetters en as ek die verkeerde een druk of draai of trek dan kak al drie van ons die kar. Nou daar sit ek en vir daai oomblik weet ek nie waar die petrol is nie, ek weet vokkol van vokkol af nie. My hart klop in my gat en ek voel so effe swak.

Paul verduidelik mooi van wat is wat maar my kop hoor niks. Ek probeer net kalm bly anders weet ek gaan hy my nooit weer agter die stuur toelaat nie. Cecilia maak nie n piep agter in die kar nie. Shame arme vrou dink nou seker terug aan haar lewe en begin bid vir al haar sondes, net incase die man op die hout kruis regrig was.

Reg sit die ding in neutral. Draai die sleutel en trap die petrol net so effe. Wroem wroem, maak die kar en tiekkie wa wiel maak my poepol. Nou moet ek glo die clutch in trap en dan in eerste sit. Ok dit gedoen. Nou kom die kak. Nou se Paul, ek moet dat die counter net so op 1.5 laat bly en dan moet clutch los, stadig terwyl ek petrol trap. Klink maklik. Wel dis toe nou glad nie so vokken maklik soos wat dit klink nie. Eerstens om daai vokken naald op 1.5 te hou is 'n nagmerrie. Ek hou so die naald dop, dat ek van alles rondom my vergeet en as ek dit reg kry dan juig en laat los alles, dan vrek die kar. Right nou kry ek die clutch trap storie in my kop. Niemand se my hoe mens trap nie. Volgende oomblik spring daai kar voorentoe, hy ruk so 4 keer 'n moerse hou en staan stil.

In my denke sien ek nou al dra arme Cecilia n nek stut en sy bid harder. Reg ons gaan weer probeer. Naald is op 1.5, probeer nou die peddles trap, maar die keer sagter. Vokkol gebeur en die kar vrek net. Soos n sagte poep wat net stilletjies uit kruip en niemand weet van niks nie. So staan die ding net.  Cecilia “klink verlig”.

Right ons probeer weer en ek maak dit tot net so voor die stop sign, want toe ek moes briek trap, toe trap ek. Mos nie geweet die donerse goed is so sensitief nie. Wel die kar het gestop, dis wat blangrik is. Cecilia dra nou ook n oog patch want sy het haar kop fucked up gestamp in die stop, wel in my denke. Sy begin ook saggies te hummm, highlights van “Sound of Music”. 

Reg nou is ek voor die stop en ek moet regs draai. Nou vir die mense wat my nie ken nie, ek kan op n goeie dag nie onthou wat links of regs is nie. Hier sit ek nou agter die stuur van S.A.L. se grootste boeing, sweet tap my af asof ek onder Victoria Falls staan en saggies in die agtergrond hoor ek “The hills are alive!”, maar ek moet regs draai. 

Op een of ander vokken manier kry ek die tuig om te start en ek vrek hom nie weer maar die stop is op my so ek moet draai. Ek raak mos natuurlik bietjie angstig, bietjie excited en bietjie vreesbevange so dus het ek nie beheer oor petrol nie. Ek trap net Pappa. Van ‘n indicator is daar nie eers denke nie. Ek weet in daai oomblik nie wat die ding is of waar hy sit nie. Ek vokken draai net en hoop tot een of ander God wat 'n sin vir humor het, dat iemand nie nou in my gaan vas ry nie. Cecilia se klou merke sit nou nog teen die vensters agter die drywer stoel. 

Maar ek is om die draai en so excited dat ek dit eintlik gemaak het, dat ek laat los alles weer en juig! Da vrek die bliksem weer. Paul is heel kalm. Hy is so geduldig met my, maar van agter my hoor ek so n nervous giggle wat nou al “nearer my God to thee” begin sing. Want sien, daar is nog een links draai oor dan is ons so te se daar. So met crash helmit op die kop, sit Cecilia nou maar en wag rustig vir haar dood.

Na so twee keer se ruk ruk en petrol floor is ek weer om daai draai teen n stink spoed maar ek kry nie die vokken ding reguit nie en die sypaaidjie kom nader.  Ek laat los alles en trap die briek met alle mag. Ons is so twee huise weg van Cecilia sin af mar sy se dis ok, sy sal loop. En so toe doen sy sommer dit ook. Paul neem toe oor en bestuur huis toe. Ek het wel vir Cecilia dankie gese dat sy die experience met my gedeel het maar ek dink nie sy het rerig n vok omgegee oor enige iets op daai punt nie. Paul aan die ander kant was sy normale kalm self gewees die heel tyd. En so begin ek nou leer om te bestuur!

Mwah!

Universal Child

Annie Lennox wrote and sang this song for the Children that she is helping. But this song can just as easily be used for HIV and Cancer Children. I listen to this song and think about the children and I cannot help but cry my eyes out.  So here is the song and underneath you can find the lyrics.

Universal Child - Annie Lennox

How many mountains must you face before you learn to climb?
I'm gonna give you what it takes, my universal child.

I'm gonna try to find a way to keep you safe from harm.
I'm gonna build a special place, a shelter from the storm.
And I can see you, you're ev'rywhere, your portrait fills the sky.
I'm gonna wrap my arms 'round you, my universal child.

And when I look into your eyes, so innocent and pure,
I see the shadows of the things that you've had to endure.
I see the tracks of ev'ry tear that ran right down your face.
I see the hurt, I see the pain, I see the human race.
And I can feel you, you're ev'rywhere, shining like the sun.
I wish to God that kids like you could be like ev'ryone.

How many tumbles must it take before you learn to fly?
I'm going to help you spread your wings, my universal child.

I'm gonna help you to find a way to keep you safe from harm.
We're gonna build a special place, a shelter from the storm.
I can feel you, you're ev'rywhere, shining like the sun.
I wish to God that kids like you could be like ev'ryone.
And I wish to God that kids like you could be like ev'ryone.

Taking Care of Our Children!!

The last month or so I am really starting to get involved in the crisis that face our children.  This crisis I of course the danger of being born with the HIV virus or with Cancer I cannot say much about it as I do not have the qualifications to talk about this. But I know people that do know. All that I can say is that I have been crying my heart out. 1 In every 3 children that are born in this country are born with the HIV virus. Everyday 7 children day due to Cancer.

 So I beg everyone, have a look at these websites and see what you can do. Look at these videos and try to understand how lucky you are if you have a healthy child or grew up as a healthy child. Not everyone is that fortunate.

Childhood Cancer

Childhood cancer is not all smiles and bald heads like you may think.

For information on Childhood Cancer please see the link below

http://www.littlefighters.org.za/index.html

Childhood HIV

One in three children are born with this virus

For more information on Childhood HIV please see link below

http://www.annielennoxsing.com/

Let us see what we can do to help. And if you think you are too small to make a difference, try sleeping with a mosquito in the room. 

Mwah!!