tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69409923702091253922024-03-14T02:15:46.893+02:00The thoughts and rantings of Mad PhoenixMad Phoenixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11638552632703040315noreply@blogger.comBlogger32125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6940992370209125392.post-86158928471502650372012-10-25T09:55:00.000+02:002012-10-25T09:55:51.610+02:00The controllable crush<span style="font-family: verdana;">I have a theory that if you like someone but know they are out of bounds, and can be around them without constantly making Freudian slips you have what I like to call a controllable crush. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: verdana;">Examples of controllable crushes include:</span></div>
<div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: verdana;">The hot guy at the coffee shop that makes your coffee just the way you like it. (Is it just right cos he made it, or is it made really well and that's why you like him? Cue Twilight Zone theme song)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: verdana;">your friend's hot brother who sees you as an extension of his sister, and so therefore treats you like a sister (this is the female equivalent to the male <a href="http://mad-phoenix.blogspot.com/2009/09/warning-friendship-zone-ahead.html">friend-zone trap</a>).</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: verdana;">your gym trainer because he is your trainer and obviously physically qualified to be one, but he sees and smells your sweat on a regular basis. Not a good look.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: verdana;">The hot but unemployed guy who either wants to start or manage a band, and he is 30. He is a beautiful dreamer, who is unemployed. This guy is not so much out of bounds as he is a waste of your child bearing years - but who cares, he is <i>fooiiine</i>. But still, unemployed.</span></li>
</ul>
</div>
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<span style="font-family: verdana;">All of them seem like bad ideas. Scratch that, you know they are bad ideas. But what are we sighted people to do?! Irrespective of a person's situation if they were hot enough you know, deep down inside, you would literally jump at the opportunity to do in-depth research on their tonsils.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: verdana;">One thing I think controllable crushes are good for is that they make you pay attention to how you look, all the time. Don't deny it. Going to see a crush makes you take that extra 5min to get dressed and put on eyeliner. Even if you are hellbent on never ever making a move, a little cleavage here and there doesn't hurt. You turn your controllable crush into a power game, by taking control of the game you tip the scales and thus turn yourself into someone else's controllable crush. This in turn creates a world filled with frustrated people all pretending that everything is all platonic and that they don't think Mad Phoenix is cute when you know you were checking out my ass dude!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: verdana;">All I'm saying is if you think I'm hot just say so. I promise not to get you fired.</span></div>
Mad Phoenixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11638552632703040315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6940992370209125392.post-78643778543839183622012-02-10T13:34:00.002+02:002012-02-10T13:52:57.191+02:00I wanna look shaxy<span >I've been eating "well" for the last 3 years. I have lost and gained 5 kg over and over again. This time its serious. Next year I am going to be 30, and I am going to go out of my 20's looking like a <b><i>sex goddess</i></b>. </span><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >No more half-ass <i style="font-weight: normal; ">attempts </i>at losing this fat suit, I am <b>doing it</b>. It has been written, and so it shall be done.</span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span >Right now I have 30-35kg to lose. Its going to take a lot of discipline and effort, but by God I am sick of being the fat one. I want to be the funny one, the smart one, even the bitchy one would be ok.</span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span >I've stopped recreational drinking. Unless its someone's birthday, you can get me a juice. (I'm committed, I tell you!) I also have a really hot trainer. He is nothing if not motivational. </span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; "><span >This is what I'm aiming for:</span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: center; "><span ><img src="https://encrypted-tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRc9HktElW6T2zMUy7u0A1mZ7Xts-Yvuvdc5U6IaSY7B2x3qQs2" /> </span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left; "><span >Healthy, but still curvy. Wish me luck. </span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left; "><span ><br /></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-align: left; "><span ><br /></span></div>Mad Phoenixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11638552632703040315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6940992370209125392.post-40299527968174456772012-02-02T10:56:00.002+02:002012-02-02T11:12:41.112+02:00Don't get too excited...this might not last that long<span >So I just had lus to write now. I'm supposed to be doing work but this is part of being a WABber. </span><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >(WAB: work avoidance behaviour. Now you can all put a name to the disease that you've had for years. You're welcome.)</span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span ><span >So this dude at a party on Saturday told me that when a man pulls up his pants he magically becomes a virgin again </span><span ><i>(read: you can tell when a woman has been around but not a man)</i></span><span >. Ja, I was surprised by this piece of news too. It would explain why most men, no matter how old they are, still don't know where the G-spot is. But let's cut them some slack ladies. I mean, if your memory of every sexual encounter was magically being erased every time you pulled up your pants, you'd struggle too I suppose. Oh wait, women would shower and change their outfit...nevermind.</span></span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >So its really disturbing when you see pics on FB of people you have not seen in FOREVER (eg high school, university) who were super skinny and now are super fat. And I know its mean but I always end up thinking "Who ate all the pies? YOU ate all the pies!" (Disclaimer: I have never been exactly skinny, but I'm one of those people that gained weight since high school, so I think I'm allowed to say whatever I want about <i>my people</i>.)</span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >So I want to buy property but not sure what to buy. Flat vs house. I want a dog, so there's that to consider. Also, I want it close enough to my work so that I can keep getting up at 7:30 without having to sacrifice my first born child to pay for it.</span></div><div><span ><br /></span></div><div><span >So all these thoughts have started with so....</span></div><div><span >That's it, was just saying.</span></div>Mad Phoenixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11638552632703040315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6940992370209125392.post-21113768448003180652010-11-25T12:08:00.002+02:002010-11-25T12:14:09.406+02:00Menopausium<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms'; ">Menopausium - pronounced men-o-paush-ee-um.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >I just got off the phone with my friend Jewels. She is not feeling so lekker and thinks its the AC in her building. Her boss is a renowned bitch with serious control issues.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >"Its on so high, but people going through menopausium mos don't care about anybody else."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >LOL.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >SUNDAY. 28 NOV 2010. STONES PAROW. 17:00. BE THERE.</span></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRXEuVTpdX-SdLYrCaY2a8FA11KlF1xprpQ4Pkx_9JGBnFZtc_Iw7r29A6p4aRJnLBwU8VU9lKmQY3X7qL8z1y5zYU16fjX_9W3N0WrGt6wnClkbkyVzuilT2a7pMXbj48zIDQdijG6eAc/s400/Renaissance+Nights+II.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 283px; height: 400px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543428303945765154" />Mad Phoenixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11638552632703040315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6940992370209125392.post-50754211900700861012010-11-10T16:40:00.004+02:002010-11-10T17:00:26.782+02:00What a great start!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Hey my blogger bunnies. </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Just thought you all should know that you missed the most awesome show on Sunday night. Only bad part was that I was working the door so couldn't really get the full impact of the performances. But it was extremely successful nonetheless.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Really hope to see all of you at the next one though, no excuses this time.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Today was actually a really good day, except for my thigh muscles being in permanent spasm from this new dance class that I go to. The moves are a little to advanced for me, but hey, I'm nothing if not stubborn. Really enjoying it, so why stop just because I've lost the use of my left leg?!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >But back to my story. So I get to work and my friend AntigenicDrift IM's me (instant message for the less tech savvy) about my gchat status "I love to love, but my baby just loves to dance..."</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >This of course is a reference to an old 70's song - and we all know I loves me some 70's music. Thus followed the most hilarious conversation. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >(If you don't know the song, its not gonna be funny, so click <a href="http://www.videoanni80.com/view/892/tina-charles-i-love-to-love-but-my-baby-loves-to-dance/"><span class="Apple-style-span" >here </span></a>to give it a listen.)</span></span></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >AntigenicDrift</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >: you know, that is a sad song</span></span></div><div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > <b>me</b>: why?</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></o:p><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >AntigenicDrift</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >: cos he cheats on her, you must read the lyrics</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > “dance" is a euphimism<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > she loves to love<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > but her baby just loves to "dance"<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></o:p><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >me</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >: er, no its not</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > she goes with to the club<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >AntigenicDrift</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >: er yes it is</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > <b>me</b>: "stop, I'm spinning like a top. WE"LL dance until we drop"</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >AntigenicDrift</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >: Oh I love to love</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"> <b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >But there's no time for our romance<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></o:p><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >me</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >: yes, because he is about the party life, and she wants to stay at home</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></o:p><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >AntigenicDrift</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >: we'll dance the night away BUT IF I HAD MY WAY we'll stay at home and get down</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></o:p><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >me</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >: now you are just proving my point</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></o:p><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >AntigenicDrift</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >: i think he's a joller lol im sorry</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > <b>me</b>: ja, like go to the jol joller</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > not other women joller<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >AntigenicDrift</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >: nai kyk hier</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > <b>me</b>: but that was an interesting take on it</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >AntigenicDrift</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >: in the future nir</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > you get gatvol of being dragged where you dont lus to go right<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > im looking into the future of the song here<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > <b>me</b>: LOL</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >AntigenicDrift</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >: so then she IS gonna stay at home right</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >and then who is he gonna dance with<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > while she is at home<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > <b>me</b>: LMAO</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > naai, I see your point ja<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >AntigenicDrift</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >: nai really lol dont laugh</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > <b>me</b>: <a href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=t&source=web&cd=1&ved=0CBUQtwIwAA&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DV4R97AeM6IE&ei=kbHaTL6fCsfusga97ImGAQ&usg=AFQjCNFdRhMf9IMFuH_POStnj6Q4sGz_Sg&sig2=l5cPv1umwDTltRyMiiCZ_g"><span class="Apple-style-span" >clouds across the moon</span></a> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >AntigenicDrift</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >: yor another sad song</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >why long distance dont work out, you might as well be on mars<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > <b>me</b>: The killer line</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > "is there someone there with you?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >AntigenicDrift</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >: hahahahaha!</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > shame thats a sad song<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >and she has laaities also "the kids say they love you"<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > <b>me</b>: "but I'm trying not to cry"</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > that is so not sexy<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >Tell him what you wearing!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >AntigenicDrift</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >: aweh</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >hi darling, how you doing? <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >hey baby, i got my 2 piece on, oh im sorry, <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >is that slut there with you? <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >oh since you went away that sluts had you in her sights, <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >i just cant sleep another night, <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >im not ashamed to say you need your head read, <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" >cos im the best in bed<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > or something like that</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > dont come mope here<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > </span></span></o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > <b>me</b>: LOL</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" > CLASSIC!!!</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height: normal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; "><span class="Apple-style-span" >PS: AD is in a band, so this is one of the many songs he has "remixed."</span></span></p></div></div>Mad Phoenixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11638552632703040315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6940992370209125392.post-59338616964443583862010-11-03T12:26:00.004+02:002010-11-03T12:45:48.794+02:00SUNDAY IS GONNA BE AWESOME!!!<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span">First of all, so sorry that this blog has been a dead zone. I've been working hard, and don't have internet at home.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span">"But you could write your posts offline and post them when you have a minute or during lunch.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span">" I hear you grumble.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span">Shh</span></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span">, no-one likes a smart ass.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span">This post is going to be short, or I plan to be brief but the way I feel right now I could spew all the pent up job frustration and stress all over this blog. I don't want to, but right now I don't really know what I'm feeling so everything could go haywire at any minute.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span">There is good news though. My BF is hosting his first event, Renaissance Nights this Sunday - 7 November 2010. So come by. R30 gets you 5 live acts and a DJ. Show starts at 17:30 so come early to get a seat, but there is lots of standing space so no one will be turned away.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(I would actually love to say "<i>Not tonight</i>" to somebody. Must be such a power trip.)</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span">There will be bar specials - I call them Soulful Sunday Sundowners (I really think I should trademark that phrase). Check out the flyer.</span></span></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRFw4c8doDKDDIL-0uP0aeq_BdEabbQDqAhgGip3hD6NgnyhKTB8pkv6Bw2YK_CG6ZPLZAnosW9YRttVIbtqrean6XvUu9ORHIXGhdsI4K0tX1TCrhMCPZ3L0lwvgUaj6LOUdXFLwHS0pT/s400/FLYER2.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 283px; height: 400px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535271094130795618" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">So hope to see you there. End the weekend on a good note <i>(ha ha,puns)</i> and start the week off right.</span></span></div>Mad Phoenixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11638552632703040315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6940992370209125392.post-73312832591049683912010-09-24T16:21:00.006+02:002010-09-24T16:34:42.225+02:00Shout out's on Heritage Day<span style="font-family:arial;">This week was extremely busy - what with having to cancel my leave (yes, insanity has taken hold of me), having to attend all day meetings the whole week and dealing with work financial crises. But its a public holiday and I'm finding myself rather... alone. The BF is going to his high school reunion and they are not allowing partners. (<em>Just lower that eyelid!) </em><br />And the BFF is at her mother-in-law's celebrating her sis-in-law making it to the Top 40 in Popstars - so go out and support Anray Amansure.<br /><br />Speaking of support, watch my BF's music video - </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ifX87a0ZwQ"><span style="font-family:arial;">I get down for Cape Town. </span></a><div><span style="font-family:arial;">He is so hot!!!</span></div><div><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></div><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">So since I'm all solo and stuff I'm considering going shopping, or making the first move and calling some girls to join me for sundowners. Either way, I'm going to make the most of being solo for today.<br /><br />Unless <strong><em>you</em></strong> wanna hang out? I'm just saying...if you wanna hang out I'm totally cool with that. Or <em>not</em>. Like whatever.<br /><br /></span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ifX87a0ZwQ"></a>Mad Phoenixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11638552632703040315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6940992370209125392.post-20159154103751755192010-09-16T11:08:00.004+02:002010-09-16T15:57:30.587+02:00"Is this my beginningggggg....or is this the eeeeeeeeeend"<span style="font-style:italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">"When will I see you agaaain. (when will i see you again)<br />Ha ha...ooooh ooo ooooh (precious moments)"</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />When will I see you again - The Three Degrees<br /><br />Who listens to music from the 1970's? Just me then? Hmmm k.<br /><br />So I are gymming in the am now ya'll! It is beginning to become a <b>need</b>. My alarm goes off at 6, and by 6:30 I am so awake my bed becomes annoying. So its either waste an hour laying there thinking about going to gym, or actually getting up and going. The getting up is easier to deal with than the guilt.<br /><br />Today I got up, but didn't go to gym. I thought I was being clever.<br />"Why don't I get up and clean my flat before work instead of going to gym? That way when I come home it will be clean."<br /><br />Brilliant right? WRONG. I'm so tired right now I could pass out on my keyboard and not be at all concerned that I will have <i>qwerty</i> inprinted backwards on my forehead. And I only got to do the bathroom! I guess it is either a sign of how dirty my bathroom actually was, or how I really hate cleaning. The latter I think, cos that is way less embarrassing.<br /><br />Food has become my new hobby. Like really, I'm becoming obsessed. I want to try all these different recipes and am looking to eat less animal products. It's cheaper and healthier and tastes good - but we all know way less delicious than meat or chicken. I know I'm not going to be fooling anybody whose had a juicy medium-rare steak prepared just right. <i>Oh god...</i><br /><br />So basically what I'm saying is that I'm bored and hungry at work and now I'm reading food blogs. I will peruse what is available and let you guys know next week if I have a favourite.<br /><br />Yes, you heard me, I'll try and post at least once a week so that Sid is not the only one in charge of wasting your bosses money. LOL.</span></span>Mad Phoenixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11638552632703040315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6940992370209125392.post-50665662991125109692010-09-03T09:44:00.004+02:002010-09-03T10:14:01.253+02:00I’m not into boobies...<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">So I’ve been very quiet lately. In three lines: I lost my lus to blog (basically my life became boring). The Ex is now The Boyfriend (hereafter referred to as the BF). And work got really busy. So there are my excuses – build a bridge and get over it. </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><br />So sometime in January I forgot something that was really important to the BF. Don’t ask me what it was because <em>I forgot</em>, so ja. As penance I offered to make it up to him, whatever he wanted. He wanted a striptease.<strong> From me.</strong><br />I was like “err...not so much”. So I offered to buy him one. Smart right? Again, err...not so much. As the day drew closer I imagined the strippers wanting to shove their boobs and butts in my face...ew. Imagine, vajay-jay all up in my space. <em><strong>Yuck</strong></em>. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">So after months of waiting, we finally went to <a href="http://www.mavericks.co.za/">Mavericks </a>the other day. I have to say that I have never felt so fat, nor so secure in my relationship. Strange no? The decor made me think of a Cuban bar, where all the rum and cigar plantations owners come to have a drink, a cigar, and pat a pretty girl’s behind. You know, just lam it uit.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><br />The women were absolutely gorgeous. Although I felt fat (they walk around in outfits that would make the Pussycat Dolls blush), I realised I had the biggest boobs in the house (oh yeah!). This would play a role later... </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><br />So we get in (R100 for guys, R50 for girls – I know, <em>ouch</em>) and sit down at a table. There is a beautiful woman dancing on a stage above the bar, doing the most amazing acrobatic things on a golden pole. I’m not bicurious, but damn they are mesmerising. The girls dance for two songs, first song is just hip-hip-turn-butt shake, and then second song is expose breasts-climb pole-slide upside down-back flip off. I say it again. DAMN! </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><br />“Cocktail, <strong><em>now</em></strong>!”<br /><br />So I’ve given the BF R250 to buy himself the attention of any girl he likes. Knowing firsthand what he likes, I’m looking for big boobies with nice butt (<em>ahem</em>). Unfortunately most of the girls are A/B cups with no booty, so it was slim pickings. All he wants is a table dance, which we are advised by our waitress would be better enjoyed in a booth. The booths are separated by glass and are at the back, which limits your view of the stage a bit. But we had still not seen the girl that was gonna make my BFs wish come true. The waitress explained that the girls are wary of couples. Apparently some women are not as cool and secure as I am (<em>ahem</em>). Or they just didn’t order a big enough cocktail.<br /><br />So she sends a bevy of Colombian beauties to our table. My man is in shock, visibly drooling and I am momentarily forgotten. The girls are beautiful, friendly and are visibly afraid that I am a bitch. I smile and try not to make any sudden movements. So the BF requests that one of the ladies sits and chats with him and that the others come back later. I am mildly taken aback by this. I am not paying for a “Let’s get to know each other – <strong>NO WAY</strong>! <em>I love that song too</em>!” session. But, being the cool and secure woman I am I give them some space and move to the next table and watch the other strippers wow me with their gravity-defying pole tricks. Don’t worry ladies, I let him know that homey don’t play dat. “You talk to them one more time, and you are going home single”, or something like that. The cocktail was very strong.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"><br />The club started to fill up so we moved to a booth in preparation for our table dance. The BF had seen the girl he liked and wanted to <em>place his order</em> with the waitress. While we waited for the waitress we were given a taste of what to expect, as in the next booth a blonde bombshell was giving this group of guys a table dance. There was the expected boobs and butt being rubbed in the face. But then it got too much for me. The glass has a pattern embossed that adds a smokey feel to being in the booth, and why I had not noticed that she was not wearing her g-string anymore. She gets on their laps and partially straddles their faces. Hmmm.<br /><br />Then she fingered herself.<br /><br />Removed the finger.<br /><br />And....<br /><em></em><br /><em></em><br /><em></em><br /><em></em><br /><em></em><br /><em>flick.</em><br /><br /><strong>IN THE DUDE’S FACE</strong>! What. The.<em> FUUUUUUCK! </em><br /><br />Of course the BF got even more excited for his dance... and I ordered another cocktail.<br /><br />We finally order with the waitress, “I want Catalina”, and wait for Catalina to appear. A cute Russian woman with a black bob, porcelain skin and bright red lips comes over and asks if she can borrow our booth, “I hev a group off guys thet vant table dens. Cen you moov for leetle beet?” all the while rubbing my thigh with the coldest hands I have ever felt – she could have been a vampire, and I would have let her turn me. We explain that we are also getting a dance and that our girl is on her way, so if they don’t mind waiting they can have the booth for the night when we are done. 5min later Catalina arrives, and she is not the girl he wanted. “You are so embarrassing baby! You can’t even get the names right.”<br /><br />He goes off and finds his girl, who is eating at the time, so we have to wait again. Russian cutie comes back, “Yoo arre still vaiting? I cen dens vor yoo. I know how to moov my body. I cen geev yoo goodt show ja.” And with that last sentence, she starts gently stroking my boobs.<br />Cue nervous laughter.<br />“<em>OMG she’s touching me! Ha ha ha. <strong>She’s touching mee</strong>!!! HA HA HA HA</em>!!”<br /><br />The BF: “That looks nice, but no.”<br /><br />Russian cutie says “Oh khay, why not get a privet dens then? It’s only R50 more end yoo enjoy it more.” This was enough to sell the BF, so we decide that he is going for a private dance by himself and I get to <strong><em>NOT</em></strong> see a girl flick her vagina juice into his face. Win-win.<br /><br />His girl has finished her supper, and we part ways. Him off to get his dance, and me to sit by myself like some lonely lesbian and watch strippers climb that pole baby. He came back, enjoyed the topless midnight parade (they do a mini parade at 12) and then we left. I asked him if he enjoyed himself and he said yes. Nuff said. I don’t need to hear more than that.<br /><br />Funny enough, I had a good time myself. And we both had a good time later.... if you know what I mean. ;-) </span>Mad Phoenixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11638552632703040315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6940992370209125392.post-49077723119182221752009-12-10T16:39:00.004+02:002009-12-10T16:53:09.495+02:00Back from my Sabbatical<span style="font-family:arial;">Hey everybody<br /><br />I know,I know. <strong>Where the hell have I been and how dare I think I can just come waltzing back in as if nothing has happened and I can just go back to that whore I was with because I've got another thing coming if I think you were sitting around waiting for me!</strong> </span><br /><br /><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;">That about it? Feel better now? Good.<br /><br />So I've been rather busy lately, well not really but let's just say I was. Me and the ex are..."hanging out". It's really nice. :-) I'm happy, can you tell?<br /><br />So let me tell you about Tuesday. I had a really nice day, which started the night before with me snuggling with The Ex. (<em>Sigh</em>. Shut up.) Tuesday was my good friend Sid's b-day so we had some awesome cake at work, and then I rushed off to have my hair done and then the evening was spent having cocktails with the girls. I was very Sex and the City. Minus the weird clothes, because seriously, who dresses like that?<br /><br />But then just as I thought karma was doing me a good turn BAM! They broke into my car. I say "they" because that's usually who you blame. You know, <strong>them!</strong> I came out of the restaurant to find my beautiful car defiled and raped. They did not just break into my car, they <strong><em>BROKE</em></strong> my car! The bent the door so that they could put their hand in from above and open the door. They opened her up like a two dollar whore.<br /><br />They stole my shades and an old jacket, but best of all, the remote control to my car frontloader. What. the. <strong>FUCK!!!</strong> Why take the remote?<strong><em> WHY?!!!!</em> </strong>I swear that is the thing that sent me over the edge, because before I found out about the remote I was relatively stable. But that was the last straw. So the next motherfucker is getting a butter knife in the neck. Yes, <strong><em>a butter knife</em></strong>. I am <strong>that</strong> pissed off. The cherry is that my excess on the insurance is 8 times the value of the things that were stolen!<br /><br />And that is how my day turned from a Sex and the City episode to a cheap version of Law & Order: Useless Crimes. The trip to the police station was hilarious at best, mildly annoying at worst. I got there at 11:40pm, only to be met by a half asleep detective, and then have my statement taken by a women that I saw sleeping in the corner when I came in. She continued to make spelling mistakes on my form, and at one point had to scrap the first draft because it would be easier to start over than grab some tippex. The latest is that I will have to replace the door. Fuck!<br /></span></div><span style="font-family:arial;"><br /><div align="center"><strong>New hairstyle = R150</strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;"><strong>Dinner with friends = R180</strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;"><strong>R200 of stuff stolen from car causing R1600 of damage = <span style="font-size:180%;">PRICELESS!</span></strong></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:arial;"></div></span><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;">To take my mind off above-mentioned breakage of car door, I have been indulging in only the fun parts of work, and reading lamebook.com<br /><br />It is seriously hilarious. This is my current favourite.</span></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 512px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 344px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413619667789014530" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglTi_C4NRU8q93BEbhAF5IgLFDFgsqSkrEH5_WHt6UKWED8HcOZ0N4x6Yh_9IcYbXhDaa-SPYHkihHp6evN1GiL-lDJ2YCNWmRbxCnwfFPSnD8IYJ_y2pvp7CwiRpMOQaQXYNgKSWUo1TE/s400/lost+in+translation+-+lamebook.JPG" /><br /><div align="left"></div>Mad Phoenixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11638552632703040315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6940992370209125392.post-52911239475512423222009-11-13T15:16:00.002+02:002009-11-13T15:38:21.981+02:00For the Grown Folks<span style="font-family:arial;"><strong>Mortality</strong>.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">The biggest and scariest word (to me anyways) in the English language. Today I am being faced with my own mortality. I am not She-Ra (shoutout to the 80's superhero comics.)</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">See? This is exactly what I am talking about. I'm getting old. I am now in the age bracket where I'm still young and hip enough (and can actually <em>afford</em>) to do stuff, but old enough to do them in moderation so that I don't feel like a zombie the next day and I still have money in my bank account. But I remember a time when all those things did not matter. I would go out and think "Fuck sleep, who needs that? I'm PARTYING! My last 20 bucks on a round of shooters? WHY NOT?!!" </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Now if I stay out past midnight on a weeknight the next day is one of sleep-deprived torture, constantly watching the minutes tick by as time crawls towards the hour of my freedom from corporate bondage.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><strong>Sid:</strong> It's like there's this limit of fun that my body can handle. If I go over that limit my body complains.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I couldn't have said it better myself. What happened to my staying power? Where did all that stamina go? Why is it now impossible for me to get by with 5 hrs sleep, when back in the day I stayed up once for <strong><span style="font-size:130%;">38 hrs straight</span></strong>. <strong>Partying</strong>! People went to bed, woke up in shifts to keep me company. I was on <strong><span style="color:#ff6600;">FIRE!</span></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">But all that is gone now, and I'm having a hard time accepting it.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">You see, last night I indulged in the Thursday night party at Galaxy. (<em>Why</em>? Because its Thursday, DUH!)</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Galaxy is the oldest club in Cape Town, and still the best ever. I was all responsible and everything. Left the club at 1, had a shower and went to bed. Today I feel like the walking dead. The worst is that I didn't even drink (had two ciders, no kak). </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I want my 18-22 yr old body back. <strong><em>She</em></strong> was a trooper. <strong><em>She</em></strong> could party. I don't like this 26 yr old wuss. She is a fader.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><em><span style="font-size:85%;">Bitch</span></em>.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I am totally aware that I'm getting older. That there are certain things that society is <em>politely</em> going to tell me to stop wearing, stop eating, stop saying, and places I'll have to stop going, just to make sure that I <strong><em>really</em></strong> <strong><em>enjoy</em></strong> the last few years before my inevitable death. (Thanks Society. You're so giving that way.) Unless I reach Madonna status (which if you knew me, you'd know is <strong><em>VERY</em></strong> likely), and then I just won't give a fuck.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span>Mad Phoenixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11638552632703040315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6940992370209125392.post-73238859981989016822009-11-06T11:14:00.003+02:002009-11-06T11:29:41.671+02:00I'm back...<span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">So once again I am denouncing alcohol. Don't look at me like that! I can stop whenever I want!!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Fuck you...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Alcohol has been fun, but now I'm trying to get serious. Serious about life, about me and the things I want. (Like I've already said for the hundredth time). It doesn't mean that I'm not going to miss that beautiful buzz you get after a few drinks, and then allowing myself to sink into that beautiful pool of "I don't give a fuck what you think cos I just came here to DANCE!"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Sigh...I'm really gonna miss that feeling the most. Don't get me wrong, drunk or sober I'm an AWESOME dancer. Like Fame, only better cos its unrehearsed. I am Mad "Freestyler" Phoenix yo.<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">And before you people think this is one of those "I'm never having a drink again", its just for a while.</span><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Think I might start smoking that tabasco again. Did that a lot with my ex, we kinda used it as a band aid to an its-ok-but-not-really relationship. Everyone who has been in a relationship knows exactly what I mean.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">But now we are friends so maybe we can use it to heal over any cracks that might hamper the lovers-to-friends transition.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">In unrelated news I lost a follower last week. I was all the way up to 5, and then the deserter decided that he/she didn't like checking up on an un-updated blog. So sorry to everybody else for being so quiet, and fuck you deserter!<br /><br />I was at a loss for what to say. What did The Don call it?</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Oh yeah, blogstipation. LOL, love that word.<br /><br /><br /></span></span>Mad Phoenixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11638552632703040315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6940992370209125392.post-51344663342627106642009-10-27T09:51:00.005+02:002009-10-27T10:05:57.068+02:00Halloween Post: I'm going as a black fairy<span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: arial;">"dressing up as lara croft this year and it was all mad phoenix's idea. AND SHE IS SO BRILLIANT!"</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> Sid Kane's gchat status.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">Now if this is not an indication that my plan to take over the world one brilliant blogger at a time is working beautifully, then I don't know what is.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">If you have a blog, be forewarned. I'm in your head. You don't know it, and you won't feel it. But I'm there. You will bow to me..<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">.one day!</span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhePA3FKjo6IND-v77ZUeLHFz6MbRi2zhrJHI4WAD_JdJOyQ_815NNa3iGwsaPMPrqPilYlqJrh6t0xhAQ3ojiQvxKPVbskKVyOcEtLewcC-iaOI8lG26X4VgO6mVvyAAMuaJlZ-WUAwBZJ/s1600-h/GatheringStormBlackFairyPoster.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 350px; height: 234px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhePA3FKjo6IND-v77ZUeLHFz6MbRi2zhrJHI4WAD_JdJOyQ_815NNa3iGwsaPMPrqPilYlqJrh6t0xhAQ3ojiQvxKPVbskKVyOcEtLewcC-iaOI8lG26X4VgO6mVvyAAMuaJlZ-WUAwBZJ/s400/GatheringStormBlackFairyPoster.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397187392518901378" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" >MWA HA HA HA HA!!!!</span><br /><br /></div>Mad Phoenixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11638552632703040315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6940992370209125392.post-19457927341961856342009-10-22T14:41:00.004+02:002009-10-22T15:18:45.751+02:00I'm getting old, but at least I have good hair.<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">My best friend is pregnant! </span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;"></span></span></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Very exciting news until I took a step back and really looked at the situation. I'm 26, single with no kids, and with no sign of either changing anytime soon. Hmmm. Took me back to my <a href="http://mad-phoenix.blogspot.com/2009/09/wait-for-meeee.html">mini freak</a> out I had a while back. Follow the link to bask in my pathetic-ness (I make up words, get over it.)<br /><br />I think the problem is that I've been comparing myself to other people. Take Jewels: happily married for 2 and half years and now having a baby. She is 28. The timetable is on track for her, in that respect. I on the other hand have lived on a Sub-Antarctic island for a year, been to Spain <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">by myself </span>and have a semi-successful-on-the-right-track career and have the financial freedom to do just about anything I want <span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">(except buy a house because let's just face it you need a double income for that shit)</span></span>. I'm 26. Who's life would you prefer?<br /><br />The answer: <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">the other person's.</span><br />It's the old cliche that the grass is always greener, and you never miss the water, blah blah blah.<br /><br />I'm so not falling for that crock of shit anymore. I'm in control. This didn't just happen to me, because <span style="font-weight: bold;">I am</span> The Architect. (For all those born in the 90's or who live under a rock, this is a reference to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Matrix">The Matrix</a>). I've decided that from now on I need to be the one making decisions, because going with the flow is just not working for me anymore. I need to be willing to take risks if I want rewards. And I need to acknowledge the good things in my life, before I go head-first trying to create a new one. Because its not all bad. I just need to start weeding out the shit that wastes my time, and refocus that time on something constructive. And I need to realise that great things are not achieved by great deeds, but by consistently doing the same little deed everyday.<br /><br />Geez, sorry guys. This has really turned into a pep-talk to myself instead of a deep and profound post. FAIL.<br /></span></span>Mad Phoenixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11638552632703040315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6940992370209125392.post-56813515510363525652009-10-16T14:30:00.002+02:002009-10-16T15:41:11.716+02:00Birthday Madness Weekend - free advertising<span style="font-family: arial;">So this weekend is exceptionally full for me. I've got three friends who are having birthdays in one week. Any coincidence that this week signifies the middle of spring, when food starts to become abundant again and the days become warmer? Hmm - biology is a beautiful thing.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">K, so back to my hectic weekend. Birthday one: after work drinks and snacks at <a href="http://jamaicamecrazy.co.za/jamaica/default.asp">Jamaica Me Crazy</a> (affectionately known as JMC). Really good food, great drinks, and Monday Madness means you get to enjoy both for half the price, whilst there is happy hour everyday with selected cocktails at half price from 5-6, so its the perfect hangout for an after-work destress session. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">Next Birthday: my cousin's gorgeous girlfriend (and I don't just say that because its her b-day, she is REALLY PRETTY...bitch) is having a party at a club in the Northern Suburbs of Cape Town, Living Room. (Stupid name, I know. Why don't they just call it The Lounge? But then it would probably get confused with the old Lounge that is now called Zula. Yes people, me and Town go way back). She has a guestlist, so entry is free for me! Oh yeah baby, me love me some<span style="font-weight: bold;"> free shit</span>. Living Room is a bit uppity, and the drinks are a tad more expensive but then you got a <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">DRANK! </span>and not some excuse for a shot.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">Then finally Saturday there are drinks at my place with some friends (as you can see, I have a <span style="font-style: italic;">liver of steel!</span>) Afterwards is a b-day party at <a href="http://www.stratalounge.co.za/">Strata Lounge</a> in the South. Lansdowne to be more precise. It's more of a little sister club to the very big @mosphere - which is a playground. If you are older than 22, don't bother. It's not for you. They should change the name to Jailbait. Once again I am on a guestlist, so more free shit for MP!! <span style="font-weight: bold;">Whoop whoop!!!</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">So guys please wish me luck as I set off at 5pm on my adventure. Did I mention that I'm on allergy meds which could have a nasty interactions with alcohol? I'm looking forward to see how nasty they can be. I'm nothing if not thorough. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: arial;">What are you up to? Going out or laying low this weekend? Either way, enjoy and pray no one let's me drive this weekend.</span>Mad Phoenixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11638552632703040315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6940992370209125392.post-43991167317745484902009-10-13T14:05:00.003+02:002009-10-13T15:25:23.274+02:00Whatever happened to Ralph Macchio? He was so cute!<span style="font-family:arial;">After my brilliant previous post (hey, I'm nothing if not modest) I've been suffering from writer's block. How do I top <a href="http://mad-phoenix.blogspot.com/2009/10/ive-lost-3kg-in-2-months.html"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">that</span></a>?!!!</span> <span style="font-family:arial;">But whatever. Next subject.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Muay thai!!!<br /><br /></span></span> </div><span style="font-family:arial;">I wanna learn <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">so badly</span>. This has been sitting in the back of mind for almost a year now. I particularly wanna join the <a href="http://www.dragonpower.co.za/">Dragon Power</a> gym. Is that the most awesome name for a gym or what?!!! AND the owner is a <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">world Muay Thai Champion</span>!</span> <span style="font-family:arial;">I will be his Daniel-san and he will be my Miyagi. Its gonna be so <span style="font-weight: bold;">AWESOME</span>!!!<br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Q9uNDa1rOt6tJMSL4TZMzxA37kFT7XULAdIB2hDNGKuItrft4FjVDfryBcuLk8Y5jT4T5ZHbPgsbSW2KxOkmbVRdzWzvxmXM-qWLwbxwgIqIQiAh3nZcNjndhaYmaSV4tlxk-TCsehvg/s1600-h/387px-Karate_kid.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 397px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Q9uNDa1rOt6tJMSL4TZMzxA37kFT7XULAdIB2hDNGKuItrft4FjVDfryBcuLk8Y5jT4T5ZHbPgsbSW2KxOkmbVRdzWzvxmXM-qWLwbxwgIqIQiAh3nZcNjndhaYmaSV4tlxk-TCsehvg/s400/387px-Karate_kid.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392056344423137410" border="0" /></a>Mad Phoenixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11638552632703040315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6940992370209125392.post-33794280100149975402009-10-08T15:56:00.002+02:002012-10-25T10:01:06.624+02:00Mini House episode: What's been up lately?<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've lost 3kg in 2 months. Not bad. Until I became premenstrual and my body retained so much water that I gained those 3kg back. Oh yeah, happy times.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As if my pms wasn't bad enough you wanna tell me I gained weight mother fucker?! That's right, I'm looking at you Mr Scale! You know what, FUCK YOU! All you ever do is look at me all judgementaly and call me fat, you insensitive jerk! I wish you would just fuck off and DIE! <i>(runs off crying)</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b face="arial">One week later:</b> Hey Mr Scale, I'm sorry about our fight. I know we both said some harsh things but I'm sure we can just put it all behind us and move forward. Together.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, would you look at that! Those 3kg are gone again. Well isn't that just the darndest thing...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So my life has been rather exciting lately, but first, let me put you in the scene. I am a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/House_%28TV_series%29">House MD</a> fanatic. <b>Best. Series. EVER!</b> However, this addiction has one rather nasty side effect. Every little thing I see on my body makes me believe I have an incredibly rare autoimmune disease, OR I need to go to the hospital so they can stick a huge needle in me before they can make a diagnosis. I freak myself out on a regular basis. Like the whole weight gain in the beginning of this blog. I was all, I have cushions! There is a tumour in my brain that is pushing down on my pituitary gland, which is causing all my hormones to go hay wire leading to this inexplicable weight gain, moodiness and lethargy! <b><i>OMG I'M GOING TO DIE!</i></b> usually follows one of these self-diagnoses. But then the "symptom" goes away and I realise for the hundredth time that maybe I should watch less House.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then came this weekend. I had a really good weekend. I went to visit my friend and watched The Proposal (super funny guys), went to a mad good braai and scored some wee...hey! Are you wearing a wire?!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So that was Friday and Saturday, totally awesome days. Sunday, not so much. Woke up with a cold sore between my chin and my bottom lip. I don't know what that area is called but it was not really on my chin, and it was not on my lip so that is the best I can do. But that was not the problem. Herpes simplex, relatively harmless virus that is forever in your spinal fluid and flares up when your immune system is a bit down from stress or fatigue. Easily explained away. (FYI: Herpes simplex is the good herpes, it keeps the bad genital herpes away. I am not ashamed. And no I did not make out with anyone that is not how you get it!)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So like I was saying, got a cold sore. No big deal. BUT THEN...DUN DUN DUNNNN!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I rested my head on my hand just under my chin and recoiled at my own touch. The area under my chin was swollen and painful to touch. Immediate thought: <span style="font-size: 130%;"><b><span lang="EN-ZA" style="line-height: 115%;">CANCER!</span></b></span><span lang="EN-ZA"> God, where is Wilson when you need him?! I spent all morning trying to calm myself down in the middle of my PMS-House paranoia. I saw the lumbar puncture tests, the biopsies, the failed chemo, the removal of my submandibular gland to find that its NOT CANCER! What's the differential?!!!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-ZA"><br /></span><span lang="EN-ZA">Now for the anti-climax. Went to the doc and he said it was an inflammation/infection of the ...come on, we did this just two seconds ago. That's right, the submandibular gland. This had been brought on by the cold sore, which as we know was set off by the immune system being down from the stress/fatigue. He gave me some antibiotics and pain meds.</span><span lang="EN-ZA"><br /></span><span lang="EN-ZA">I have finished the meds and feel a little better. Took two days off. Was beautiful man. I got to watch House all day!!!</span></span><br />
<br />
Mad Phoenixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11638552632703040315noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6940992370209125392.post-55556262442895775892009-09-25T15:30:00.002+02:002009-09-25T15:49:35.976+02:00I'm ok now. No, really. I SAID I'M OK DAMMIT!!!<span style="font-family: arial;">Sorry bout the last couple of posts, I've been going through some hormone issues. I suppose its only natural when you get injected with fertility drugs so you can sell you eggs on the internet. I did tell you about that right? <span style="font-style: italic;">No?</span> Ok then, forget I mentioned it.<br />Erm.... <span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" >(awkward).</span><br /><br />OK, so this weekend I am not planning anything. Well I definitely need to do some laundry (but don't worry, I'm masking the smell with free </span><span style="font-family: arial;">perfume </span><span style="font-family: arial;">samples so I'm still good until tomorrow.)<br />And as part of my new mission to accomplish... something (anything!), I've decided that I'm going back to salsa classes. I liked it, it liked me, so I really don't know what went wrong. I should have asked my belly dance class to ask him why he stopped talking to me but then I would've seemed so grade 8, and NO ONE wants to seem grade 8 (you know, clingy but in a non-commital sort of way). But that would also have led to another awkward conversation becos I stopped going to my belly </span><span style="font-family: arial;">dance </span><span style="font-family: arial;">class because I met a smarter and cuter belly </span><span style="font-family: arial;">dance </span><span style="font-family: arial;">class and was giving the old belly </span><span style="font-family: arial;">dance </span><span style="font-family: arial;">class the silent treatment and avoiding its calls so that it would get the hint (very grade 9, I know). <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Stop judging me!</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span>Mad Phoenixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11638552632703040315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6940992370209125392.post-54031834912138538822009-09-22T14:36:00.003+02:002009-09-22T15:09:23.863+02:00Wait for meeee...!!!<span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" >(I ignore you)<br />As I close my eyes,<br />I feel it all slipping away<br />(I come towards you)<br />We all got left behind,<br />We let it all slip away<br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" >Left Behind</span><span style="font-family:arial;"> by Slipknot</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I've been feeling really insecure lately. I don't know when I started feeling like this, but its been a niggling thing for a while. I'm feeling like life, </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >real life</span><span style="font-family:arial;">, is passing me by. I haven't done anything I've ever really wanted to do. Not really. I wanted to meet the love of my life, get married (tres cliche I know), </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >and </span><span style="font-family:arial;">have a bunch of kids while maintaining the inner </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" >tension </span><span style="font-family:arial;">of my va jay jay (don't pretend that you've never been worried about that decreasing after childbirth).</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I wanted to be settled. Have my house, building towards my old age, achieved all the little things... </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Play my guitar properly. Learn the drums, build the bookshelf I've always wanted, achieve that bikini body, </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" >RECYCLE</span><span style="font-family:arial;">!!!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I'm 26, and I haven't done any of it. Is it too late?</span>Mad Phoenixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11638552632703040315noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6940992370209125392.post-54357048473785588932009-09-21T15:11:00.003+02:002009-09-21T15:16:28.151+02:00Damn you hormones, damn you to heck!<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I'm not mad. I'm not even a little upset. I'm just really sad and disappointed right now. Whether it's in you or more in myself, I don't know. All I know is there is this heavy feeling in my chest that pulls my shoulders forward and makes me hang my head. I don't know where it came from, or even when it started. I just know that when I realised what was happening to me it was too late. All I want to do is climb into bed and pull the covers over my head. (Hey, that rhymes.)</span></span>Mad Phoenixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11638552632703040315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6940992370209125392.post-49540879688247265132009-09-18T15:52:00.002+02:002009-09-18T15:57:17.816+02:00A quick tirade<!--[endif]--> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-size:100%;">So this weekend was supposed to be a big girly fest celebrating the day one of my very dear girlfriends, Danny, was born. Unfortunately she has opted to spend it with the boyfriend. So now I and </span><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-size:100%;">Jewels, </span><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-size:100%;">my other dear girlfriend, are going to do the girly thing on our own. </span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-size:100%;">But it made me think about all the times women put other people’s needs and wants before their own. Why do we do that? WTF is wrong with us?! I admit I’ve done it too. It’s like having a (in the words of the Almighty Oprah) <i style="">va jay jay</i> is the underlying cause for being a people-pleasing pushover. I suffered from that complex and was harshly judged by my girlfriends for it, and rightly so. I deserved to me admonished. I had neglected them because I wanted to <span style="font-style: italic;">“nurture my relationship”</span>. What utter <span style="font-weight: bold;">BS</span>! </span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-size:100%;">Women start to neglect their friends and interests because they want their man to feel they are there for him and down for whatever <span style="font-weight: bold;">he </span>would like to do. Let’s just throw out the window the fact that who you <span style="font-weight: bold;">were </span>in the beginning is what got him all hot and bothered in <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">the first place</span>. No, let’s just become what <span style="font-weight: bold;">he </span>wants and needs because <span style="font-style: italic;">obviously </span>he is now the <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">alpha and omega</span> of your universe. <span style="font-style: italic;">Right</span>?! </span></p> <p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-size:100%;">Fuck this shit. I’m going to enjoy myself and not feel as though I’ve been thrown away for a human vibrator. Even though that’s exactly what it feels like.</span></p>Mad Phoenixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11638552632703040315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6940992370209125392.post-79195404738599921712009-09-17T16:52:00.004+02:002009-09-17T17:25:38.676+02:00Well slip into the velvet glove, And be jaded (Aerosmith)<span style="font-family:arial;">I’m one of those people who try to stay foolishly optimistic. I believe in the good in people, and <span style="font-weight: bold;">especially </span>hope for the best in men (being <span style="font-style: italic;">heterosexual </span>and all). So it doesn’t matter how many times I’ve fallen on my face when it comes to relationships, I’ve always been able to retain that “first love” excitement when it comes to relationships. (Naïve and dangerous, I know, <span style="font-weight: bold;">shut up!</span>)<br />But lately I’ve felt as though that chapter of my life has closed, the <span style="font-style: italic;">desire to be desired</span> has faded. I mean sure, we all want to be in a stable relationship so we can procreate more effectively right?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">See!</span> This is what is wrong with me. This is how I’ve been thinking lately.”I need someone who I can buy a house with, have babies with, save for retirement with.”<br /><br />I no longer long for romance. I would rather be in a relationship based on mutual respect than <span style="font-style: italic;">fall in love.</span> But then I wonder if I am doing this to myself in some subconsciously messed up way. Am I retreating from my emotions because the disappointment that follows another failed relationship is not worth the effort? Meaning: An accidental brush on my arm won’t give me gooseflesh. That when my eyes meet those of some handsome stranger there will be now butterflies in my tummy. That a first kiss will lose its electricity, a first time will lose its passion.<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">How fucking sad is that?!</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br />I need a vacation some where warm, with lots of hot, extremely tan men. Where Marcello or Vincenzo is an average name. Know what I mean?<br /></span></span></span>Mad Phoenixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11638552632703040315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6940992370209125392.post-79196883220323067832009-09-11T15:53:00.007+02:002009-09-11T18:14:30.578+02:00Warning: Friendship zone ahead!<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;font-size:100%;" >So Sid and I are at work, wasting time (obviously) by chatting up a storm, and somehow the conversation leads to the explanation of “The Friendship Box”. You see, I met a guy a few years ago who I immediately placed in the Friendship box. He was a little perturbed when he tried to ask me out and I was all "But we're friends!"<br />"How the hell did I become your friend? This is some bullshit. Don't I even have a say?"<br />I gave Sid the same explanation I gave him, and I thought by blogging about it this could be my good deed for the day.<br /></span><p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-size:100%;">Well fellas, there is good and bad news. You don’t</span><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-size:100%;"> have to do anything t</span><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-size:100%;">o be placed in the friendship box. Usually, it is completely NOT YOUR FAULT. Don’t let ladies fool you with that “I want someone with a nice personality” bullshit. Women decide within the first 5 seconds if they are going to sleep with you. Yes gentleman, FIVE! Five seconds is all you have. Hence the first 5 seconds can only be based on a physical attraction right? WRONG! I said I would explain, I never promised for it to make sense.<br /></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-ZA" >Sometimes it’s how someone has described you, the shirt you are wearing, your cologne, how you shook her hand, whether you said Hi or Hello, and a million other possible reasons that ultimately mean <i style="">you ain’t hittin’ that</i>. <span style="font-weight: bold;">EVER</span>.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHLfSgmzuI-k6maSk6qeOdcvlE61yHMddkzRgZvCysqw8lSQpzAG3zmiYjcWf8YC1gkKVqTdDCqNrouqOq8847tNOivTKzNmE497RqZOj8iy-XN5wE5z93SVzqziFCcvdbIeYEtKlIUuLB/s1600-h/9732eo141.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 270px; height: 202px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHLfSgmzuI-k6maSk6qeOdcvlE61yHMddkzRgZvCysqw8lSQpzAG3zmiYjcWf8YC1gkKVqTdDCqNrouqOq8847tNOivTKzNmE497RqZOj8iy-XN5wE5z93SVzqziFCcvdbIeYEtKlIUuLB/s400/9732eo141.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380212816475487298" border="0" /></a></span></p> <p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-size:100%;">Hence, I like to refer to the entrance of </span><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-size:100%;">the Friend</span><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-size:100%;">ship Zone as the Friendship Trapdoor. Once you have sprung the trapdoor there is a slide that leads down to </span><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-size:100%;">the Box. Once in the box it is virtually impossible to climb out. And yes, we are well aware that you poor schmucks try to crawl your way out of there. It’s just not happening dude.</span></p><p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-size:100%;">However, for a select few <span style="font-style: italic;">(and I’m talking to you hot boy that works in IT)</span> is a <span style="font-weight: bold;">Get-Out-of-Friendship-Box </span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Free Card.</span> But what about the 5 second rule, you say? You didn’t read the fine print, did you?<br />Yes, the first 5 seconds are where she decides if </span><span style="line-height: 115%; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-ZA" >she would or </span><span style="line-height: 115%; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;font-size:100%;" lang="EN-ZA" >wouldn't, but do not necessarily mean that you are Trapdoor approved. It just means that instead of having to climb up</span><span style="line-height: 115%; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" lang="EN-ZA" ><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" > a slide, you might just have some very steep stairs.</span><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt5zJyVazcXQcVvX59tbUdTe0YA8QeAVc8pIVm1O7uukTWDQvcX4uoK_v_etQVs_v17s2NdgjVg01twBh0QJEHHXyHvJw80eo8gc6Q6MrFSBM7spDXeMsRMTtw4ZKGuaRcg_gN8NdEFYzP/s1600-h/stair.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 269px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt5zJyVazcXQcVvX59tbUdTe0YA8QeAVc8pIVm1O7uukTWDQvcX4uoK_v_etQVs_v17s2NdgjVg01twBh0QJEHHXyHvJw80eo8gc6Q6MrFSBM7spDXeMsRMTtw4ZKGuaRcg_gN8NdEFYzP/s400/stair.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380212180896198578" border="0" /></a>I'm sure there are gonna people out there all indignant "the rules are not consistent!"<br />Hey, I never said this process was fair, or even well thought out. This is the process. Just like the modern day money system, it doesn't need to make logical sense to work.<br /></span><span style="line-height: 115%; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" lang="EN-ZA" ><br /></span></p>Mad Phoenixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11638552632703040315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6940992370209125392.post-83066184767320282162009-09-03T12:45:00.004+02:002009-09-03T12:57:16.693+02:00Warm daydream on a cold spring morning<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoUoc2dNVSNSdhyphenhyphenTCsqTumg7rul9gOJXTjcWSm_4hcm5yrGRs3qGR6gaLIiuEs-i94gYcK0JUX_NKcmg0c28bPPXYIvBkFRAYN7fQOTJnyXttWUUEM9o2r4u5W6lYHqa8EatOZ4n4legoV/s1600-h/sunset.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 125px; height: 94px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoUoc2dNVSNSdhyphenhyphenTCsqTumg7rul9gOJXTjcWSm_4hcm5yrGRs3qGR6gaLIiuEs-i94gYcK0JUX_NKcmg0c28bPPXYIvBkFRAYN7fQOTJnyXttWUUEM9o2r4u5W6lYHqa8EatOZ4n4legoV/s400/sunset.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377193256644264658" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" >It was a cool morning. The warm tropical breeze swept her hair into her face as she</span><span style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;font-size:85%;" lang="EN-ZA" > walked out onto the dark sand, relishing the cold coarse feeling between her newly woken toes. <span style=""> </span>She pinned her hair back with her hand and watched the red and yellow play on the clouds behind an indigo sky as the sun was making its way along the passage of twilight to dawn. </span> <p style="text-align: left; font-family: verdana; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-size:85%;">She smiled. The peace of the morning was enhanced by the sound of birds, unseen in the thick trees behind her, going about their business. Hurrying to catch the last meal before their prey would disperse from the magnification of the sun’s rays. She had not brushed her teeth, nor done her hair, put on make-up, or even dressed for that</span><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-size:85%;"> matter. The bed sheet that formed her makeshift dress reached out to the waves that lapped pleadingly towards her. </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd0wxVIPF2mNJxsLeqO7CLeLeEIYc_nbTZZivgC4wSXja1JafyqMMi5MJd85GnpZhRnwWJJdlknpbRTL7mpUg3STms9Lnydg8JPhzK0X0kbtD1B9yAY3p0wovKse7YgVmVFGQ7DduGYUK9/s1600-h/foot+in+sand.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 138px; height: 104px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd0wxVIPF2mNJxsLeqO7CLeLeEIYc_nbTZZivgC4wSXja1JafyqMMi5MJd85GnpZhRnwWJJdlknpbRTL7mpUg3STms9Lnydg8JPhzK0X0kbtD1B9yAY3p0wovKse7YgVmVFGQ7DduGYUK9/s400/foot+in+sand.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377191158014315682" border="0" /></a></span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-size:85%;">Abandoning her sheet to the wind, she stepped to the water’s edge. Its warmth enveloped her from feet to</span><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-size:85%;"> head as she stepped her naked form into it. Surrounded she surrendered her body to its sway a</span><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-size:85%;">nd ebb, </span><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-size:85%;">allowing herself to drift helplessly in tune with its rhythm. </span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-size:85%;">She felt the warm</span><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-size:85%;">th of the sun on her face as it broke through the barrier o</span><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-size:85%;">f the clouds, then plunged her head under the water. When she came back up, she laid her body flat on the water’s surface. Let it hold her, support her. Move her. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-ZA" style="font-size:85%;">She smiled.</span></p>Mad Phoenixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11638552632703040315noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6940992370209125392.post-87128883937226525872009-08-20T16:32:00.005+02:002009-08-23T21:41:42.081+02:00Bag Lady by Erikah Badu<span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >"Bag lady you gon hurt your back</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >Dragging all them bags like that</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >I guess nobody ever told you</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" >All you must hold on to</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Is you, is you, is you"</span><br /><br /></span><span id=":14" dir="ltr" style="font-family:verdana;">I love music ya'll. But this is somewhat of a generic expression. There is <span style="font-weight: bold;">no-one</span> in the world that can say they don't like music. It is one of those things that is in everyone's "Interests" box (and I checked yours and its so there).<br /><br />I am a fan of all genres, except seriously heavy metal and contemporary jazz. I can't stand the unmelodic shoop de boob boobity boob poop ba dow. It's apparenty called scat. It's sounds like a term that should be used to describe cat feaces. <span style="font-style: italic;">The cat scat on the mat</span>.<br />Seriously, buy a tune. </span><br /><br /><div style="font-family: verdana;">So the title of this blog is one of the songs that made me fall in love with Ms Erykah Badu. She are a badass! She is a cool, cultured, and educated female from "the streets". She dated the antithesis of an oil painting Andre 3000 way back and then upgraded to that delicious tall glass of chocolate milk Common. Hmmm...<br />But he is seeing Miss Serena W. now so ja... :-(<br /></div><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">But back to the song. Bag Lady is a catchy little ditty about how you need to let go of your issues because what happens to you, and specifically in a relationship does not have to define you. Having recently come out of a relationship I can relate on so many levels to the words. The lyrics are seemingly simple, yet the messages behind them are quite complex. I thought about this when I was recently chatting to my friend on gchat. We had made a date to talk on Skype (who sucks ass b.t.w. since it didn't want to work), and I told her that she may be a bit surprised by my appearance (understatement warning):</span><br /><br /><div style="font-family: arial;"> </div><span dir="ltr" style="font-family:arial;">"ja, but I picked up a lot of "relationship" </span><span style="font-family:arial;">weight</span><div style="font-family: arial;" class="kl" id=":4p" dir="ltr">LOL</div><div style="font-family: arial;" class="kl" id=":2r" dir="ltr">I have baggage</div><div style="font-family: arial;" class="kl" id=":20" dir="ltr">extra junk in my trunk</div><div class="kl" id=":4a" dir="ltr" style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:arial;">LOL"</span><br /><br />The LOLs were real then, now its like they are mocking me because when I wrote it I didn't realise how true they were on an emotional/psychological level and not just a physical one. It's weird how the most profound things come out of your mouth when your actually just trying to be funny or attempting to be a smart ass.<br /></div>Mad Phoenixhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11638552632703040315noreply@blogger.com1