tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33905787610249505732010-02-09T14:50:06.146+02:00Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.comBlogger65125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-28246418763509780372009-09-29T09:04:00.000+02:002009-09-29T09:07:56.093+02:00

"You're like a completely different person!" she blurted.And I laughed."This is who I normally am, you just haven't seen it for a while."Or ever. Or ever? Thought thought. You've known each other for 6 years, has it really been that long or is something new brewing, boiling, rising, ready to spill over? Which do you see more clearly, the red, or the green? Red, green? Red ... green ....- i'm

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-60839278563877994862009-08-19T16:37:00.000+02:002009-08-19T16:41:57.598+02:00

When smoking white-tipped cigarettes. Always, and I mean ALWAYS, check which end you're putting in your mouth.

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-70910268077682133382009-08-18T08:37:00.000+02:002009-08-18T08:45:01.589+02:00

I saw two guys wearing the same hoodie. It had broad white and dove-gray stripes. They were on opposite sides of the road, they walked in opposite directions, they were pretty much the same height too. One had his hood up (it's raining here and cold).The other spotted him as they reach the same median and turned to look back at his counterpart. I wondered what he was thinking:1/ Damn that guy's

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-1261611718264753992009-08-17T13:50:00.000+02:002009-08-17T14:01:57.988+02:00

I shower, make tea, feed the cats and shuffle back to my room to make my bed.The covers are still warm. And I resist the urge to dive back in.Then I pull open my curtains ... 08h04. July 31, 2009.

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-55123554628242449032009-07-22T15:36:00.000+02:002009-07-22T15:49:26.941+02:00

I finally watched “He’s just not that into you” last night. I I’ve seen the Sex and the City episode that kicked off the phenomenon. I think the book came out when I was mid breakup. Natch, the last thing I wanted to hear was that he just wasn’t that into me. Sadly, my mom had picked it up (the phrase, not the book) and in trying to consol me blurted it down the phone. Ah, tough love. Needless to

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-54930996968343699842009-06-25T10:11:00.000+02:002009-06-25T10:27:54.252+02:00

After a week of arguing about compound adjectives, hyphens, upper case vs. lower case and ellipsis, I'm frustrated, tired and seriously considering becoming a receptionist. So, I immersed myself in my favourite design blogs and stumbled upon a new one after following a link posted at Hot Buttered Toast and found these two Absolutely Beautiful Things:I wish I could see more of this dress. I love

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-39910937536304199062009-06-10T12:21:00.000+02:002009-06-12T08:36:08.067+02:00

Every now and then I get to travel for business. It’s not as glamorous as it sounds, mostly because I don’t actually go anywhere glamorous or vaguely exotic. People I know jetset off to distant lands like Morocco, unheard off countries in South America, Europe; per diem in hand. When I travel on the company, I’m never asked to take my passport. One day I’ll be asked to go somewhere exciting,

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-15560751667908814872009-06-03T09:28:00.000+02:002009-06-10T12:39:46.069+02:00

Every so often, I arrive at work to find my telephone blinking at me. Innocent enough, but it becomes infuriating when, after frantic button pushing, it. doesn’t. stop.I. WANT. IT. TO. STOP. Pleeeeeease. Make. It. Stop.I know what you’re thinking – technophobe. (Is it because I’m a girl? Would you like to meet the soul of my fabulous new boots?) I’m NOT a technophobe. I pour over website after

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-2246766521756440672009-06-02T16:10:00.000+02:002009-06-02T16:12:37.174+02:00

I got sucked in AGAIN. And got a headache for my trouble. The trouble is I love cute alicebands. And trouble doubled when I popped into Woolies recently to buy a hen party present and walked out with six alicebands. I couldn’t resist. Even though that little voice in my head was shrieking: don’t do it. You know they hurt you. You know you only wear them for 10mins before you pull them off and

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-7593190869343333892009-05-21T15:07:00.000+02:002009-05-22T09:17:18.093+02:00

It's May. I've shaken out my feather duvet and mohair blanket. I've dusted off my oil heater. Slippers don't get put away and Oscar has started sleeping on my head and wakes me up in the morning by scratching to get under the covers and curl up in my stomach/groin/thigh crook. It's cold and it's getting colder.Yesterday was a freakishly warm, almost tropical, day. The prom in Sea Point buzzed

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-33985006010553090532009-05-15T13:38:00.000+02:002009-05-15T14:07:22.189+02:00

This weekend, I need to have one of my tyres repaired/replaced because at some point before last weekend, I drove over something (it's looking like a nail) and by Sunday afternoon my back passenger tyre was pap.I KNEW something was wrong with my car.I heard a weird noise, coming from what sounded like my back passenger tyre. I actually stopped the car to check it out. Couldn't see anything, so

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-15061329227148924302009-05-14T10:08:00.000+02:002009-05-14T16:46:03.823+02:00

I finally saw the new VW Golf ad last night, after hearing friends and breakfast show DJs talking about it. There are few ads out there that I'm happy to watch over and over and over again. This one is one, and another stellar from O&M. We played it in the office, not a dry eye in the house!Great work O&M and well done to the VW client for buying into an ad that is at the opposite end of the

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-37511653962281915482009-05-13T11:32:00.000+02:002009-05-14T16:25:02.750+02:00

I desperately want to get a new couch, but can’t bare the thought of Oscar scratching it to bits. Yes, he has a scratching post. Yes, I should’ve been a lot tougher on him when he was a kitten. Anyway… I started taking him to the vet to have his nails clipped. It had reached the stage when it wasn’t just my furniture that was bearing the brunt of his sharp claws, but my arms and legs too. You

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-57200468696683992272009-05-11T12:14:00.000+02:002009-05-11T14:07:19.802+02:00

It's been a crazy few weeks in my world, between work, a wedding, birthday and birth days, a christening and everything in-between, I’ve had no time to potter at home and find my zen.After 3 days of intense, eerie, thrilling, midweek mist, I woke on Saturday morning to startlingly clear skies, warm-hot sun and a beautiful day. So after schloefing around in my jammies, a couple of cups of tea and

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-17835459153892034902009-05-08T13:23:00.000+02:002009-05-08T14:57:40.284+02:00

A friend of mine got married recently and, for the first time in my life, I was asked to be a bridesmaid! So in the run-up to the wedding (she had only 10 weeks to plan it, and no, she isn’t knocked-up) I immersed myself in Google Image searches (from bridesmaids to dress and all the variants in-between), Vera Wang On Weddings and as many wedding blogs I could find!My bride had a vision and a

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-72172424316429955502009-05-07T12:08:00.000+02:002009-05-14T10:21:23.875+02:00

I recently did one of those personality profiles at work (you know the ones). I was impressed with the results, it was pretty accurate (ha! the details go with me to my cremation) except one: Roles that require empathy or sympathy may not suit her. My knee jerk reaction to this was: WTF?! I have empathy and sympathy (cue indignant glare and pursed lips).BUT in observing my interactions with

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-83636206231509488772009-05-05T17:32:00.000+02:002009-05-05T17:48:33.468+02:00

I don't really have anything important to say other than it's T minus 30 before I kick back and enjoy the sweet taste of a strawberry margarita, a plate of nachos and the company of great gals I used to work with. We try and get together once a month. (I think we're averaging once every 6 months, on account of working in advertising, The Amazing Race and Cath's Italian classes.)Outside, the sun

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-45883663055252160942009-04-23T12:31:00.008+02:002009-04-23T13:16:53.471+02:00

Ally and I have voted together for the last couple of elections because we vote at the same spot. So this year, we agreed to meet at 7 at Vida for a takeaway latte and walk up to Laerskool Jan van Riebeeck. Voting stations opened at 7am so we thought we’d get there, get in, make our marks and be out of there in about 30 min!So I woke up in the dark and debated whether to have a shower or just

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-25813229366975515202009-04-16T17:09:00.002+02:002009-04-16T17:18:12.518+02:00

ff After a brief respite, 503 was at it again. And this time, they were not alone. As a rule, I don’t believe in god. But there are some nights where I’m convinced that the god-I-don’t-believe-in really does exist and is furiously conducting his latest work just to teach me a lesson.So, I’m in bed. It’s 11pm. Wa-hay past my bedtime and as I nestle into the warmth of my duvet and hide my toes

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-80522221079082769562009-04-09T10:46:00.002+02:002009-04-09T10:48:52.641+02:00

But shitnuts, I wish I was sometimes. It helps that I live alone so I can go home and not have to talk to anyone. This week has been exceptionally crazy. Working late. Full-focus mode at work. Not enough hours in the day. Playing Creative Director-Creative Director. Did I really sign up for this? The only thing that's holding me together is the long weekend ahead and getting away to

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-80279553457492855412009-04-07T08:47:00.001+02:002009-04-07T08:47:58.569+02:00

Cars that cut me offIn morning rush hour trafficMake me want to kill

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-71848827440384145812009-04-06T15:38:00.003+02:002009-04-06T15:42:29.529+02:00

I'm fascinated by signage in public toilets. I'm not talking about advertising on the back of toilet doors, I'm talking about signs that the establishment types up in word, prints and prestics to the back of the door. I'm horrified that people need to be reminded to flush! There's a certain amount of irony that this is needed in a Ladies loo!This one I found in the Ladies toilet at Oblivion, a

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-32441693231695315632009-03-31T09:22:00.002+02:002009-03-31T09:23:42.047+02:00

right-hand lane hoggersespecially on de waalmake me want to kill

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-5516627709339824172009-03-27T13:22:00.002+02:002009-04-06T08:32:27.165+02:00

Last night I went to watch Dear Reader (formally Harris Tweed) at The Assembly for the launch of their new album. It was with much anticipation and excitement that I bought the tickets weeks ago – I’ve been waiting for their new album for months. I wasn’t disappointed. The evening kicked off late, but anyone from Cape Town will shrug and disclaim: it’s Cape Town. (Something I’ve never really got

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3390578761024950573.post-72759383016250924592009-03-23T16:03:00.003+02:002009-03-31T15:49:38.097+02:00

It doesn't happen often. In fact, I can't remember the last time it did - but then, why would I? Firmly in my 30s, there's a lot I don't remember. It used to only happen to people my parents' ages: you know, walking into another room to get/do something, only to completely forget as soon as you step over the threshold. It's a mystery. And, to my horror, it's happening to me more and more.There's

Wenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05335901916154785244noreply@blogger.com0