Knock-knock, It’s Spring!

Shit!

No really, it’s a mix between “SHIT” and “YAY” for a girl, well for a girl like me. Honestly, I don’t have to be like,’SHHIIIT!’ but it’s fun.

It’s been a cold ass Winter, it freaking snowed in Johannesburg when we thought Winter was over. Winter was like, “Those shorts? Oh no you don’t”. Anyway, Winter doesn’t exactly have the best social etiquette, she’s the bitch that never wants to go out and wants you to wear your coat indoors. In fact, she wants you to wear your stockings under your high-waisted pants making it ever so hard to pee. And for a girl like me who must’ve descended from a strange breed of lizard-humans, having cold hands that need to be in pockets or gloves or something ALL THE FUCKING TIME. It’s that time that you cringe when you have to put ice in your drink but you know you can’t stand to have a luke warm (double,hehe) vodka and cranberry juice. She leaves us poor smokers outside (street side) of a restaurant, putting our hands over the candle on the table, shivering in a spot where it takes forever for the waitron to get to you because they’re all inside where it’s warm. Oh yeah and then there’s that long walk inside to the bathroom when I already have to tug on the million layers of my attire just to piss. Did I mention the long walk . . . With heels and buckling knees? Maybe that’s why Anna Wintour’s  last name rhymes with ‘WINTER’, because she’s a stocking-wearing-fur coat-wearing-acquired-social snob with a half-smile.

Then there’s the hobo-looking-hoodie-wearing-bunch of man-children and well, the occasional gorgeous coats. Gorgeous coats and cuddling with my lovely BF (can I show off here? No? Damn) are officially the best things about Winter.

Moving on >Spring is here . . . Oh wait hold on.

SPRING IS HERE! SPRING IS HERE! SPRING IS HERE! SPRING IS HERE! SPRING IS HERE!

I just feel like there’s way too much to say on my sort of ‘crushing on the new season in class’ that I actually have to send it a note to meet me at break time for an ice-cream chat. It’s like that new girl who you want to be friends with, she has great style and is so bubbly it’s ridiculous, and even though you might not have much in common, you know she’ll just brighten up your day. If you have no idea what I’m saying . . . I’m dedicating a whole other post to SPRING.

YAY SPRING, WELCOME TO MY CLIQUE, BETCH!

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Boys and their Toys?

 

Uhm okay, this is new?

I think I’m being excluded. Maybe I’m isolating myself from the many topics that come from a ‘man party’.

I’m not sure.

So today,actually while I type (as I decided to invade this male bubble) my lovelier than ever boyfriend (actually fiance) has a friend over.

Uh I must explain to you how exclusive this party is – it has to do with internet games, canned beer, girlfriend drama ( I’m cringing ), plugs, opening files, saving files, programming, ‘control click’, desktop, more beers, some vodka, hip hop music – I mean The Honorable Wu-Tang Clan, operating systems, backing up, firewalls, updates, connections . . . By the way, all this internet/computer lingo jargon is coming from the lovely above-mentioned man. It’s like when my friends invite me out shopping to style them or when my gay friends invite me to their parties because they want to know stylish hot girls and not just gay hot guys (who are also funny).

Anyway, I’m not sure, but I think they might be talking more right now. Earlier I couldn’t really hear them and I wasn’t even watching reruns of ‘Sex and the City’ or ‘Gossip Girl’ (which blocks out most of the suburban sounds for my fashion girl heaven ).

I find this weird because I’ve been the ‘guy-girl’ or as they say ‘one of the boys’ as well as one of the girly girls ( I don’t know how I managed ). I know that with girls, we have a very specific exclusivity social attitude about these kinda gatherings. If you’re not the right girl, you don’t fit in, if you’re a guy, surely you don’t fit in, unless you’re a GORGEOUS, FABULOUS, STYLISH, OPINIONATED GAY GUY! In my case, I was the sporty, opinionated, straight girl who was immune to dirty jokes and innuendoes and spoke frankly about everything and didn’t mind if their immature sexual comments were directed at me because I’d have a killer,totally belittling/embarrassing comeback for them. I do this ‘frank thing’ with my girl group but they probably think I’m a necessary bitch, which is what guys and girls have in common – The necessary bitch.

So here’s where it sucks – like how the fuck am I supposed to be that (necessary bitch) when I’m dealing with Macs and techno shit and poker, I guess?

Funny thing is I can’t complain because I get to watch my lovely above-mentioned man in all his social manliness. It’s fucking hot! It’s hot how he’s bobbing his head to The Honorable Wu-Tang Clan, asking serious questions every now and then, talking about cars and their sync (and it’s sorta comedy as well), and then I think about my friends and how they are so free and honest around me (they better be or I’ll call them out), how they deal with all my shit and how they are so willing to listen because they trust me and react maturely to what I tell them because they know it’s from someone who cares about them.

Our conversation just moved to our appreciation (not mine) of BEER, and then whiskey etc. Somehow, bricks and building worked its way into this modern man (and woMAN) conversation and so did alarms and neighbours. I’m waiting for fashion and haters ( apparent girl shit that guys talk about? ).

Other than the fact that I don’t have a penis, I actually like this company. My own friends don’t talk about the Kardashians. I sometimes find us having quite manly conversations, most of it though is some highly intelligent back-and forth about everyday experiences (lol,philosophies and shit) but we do talk about fashion ( I neeeeeeeed someone who I can talk about the Kardashians with!!!!!)

Anyway, their meeting is over and they’re like  ‘See you soon dude’ the same way I am with my girls, so hey IT’S ALL RELATIVE’. Ta-Da.

 

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At Which Point Can I Say “FUCK THIS”?

This a story about a girl, a girl who went on a tedious journey for blogger freedom!

Okay, no it isn’t really, but it sorta is, okay.

So two days ago I started this blog ( or however many days ago it was) but more specifically, I found out that I could import posts from my TUMBLR ( http://dollgritedgecb.tumblr.com )! Isn’t that SOOOOO cool? Isn’t it? Yes, the idea, as in the theory is fucking-blogger-freedom-rad. This is the part that annoys the shit out me though, it’s the big

BUT . . .

Yeah, you see it actually doesn’t/didn’t work. I searched this option all over the net like a fucking FBI agent looking for a fugitive-con artist/terrorist/sexual sadist/serial satanic ritual killer or in brighter terms (not so much brighter) like a crazy fashionista (hate that word) looking for the perfect shoes to match her outfit before an important event. Also I happened to fit into the generation that has been diagnosed by society (or whoever) with whatever they call it when you have a short attention span, like quick fixes and cheap thrills, have the focus of a toddler with a too many toys and ants in his/her pants and is a social media junkie. Speaking of which, I should probably get to the fun part because someone in this ‘poor little generation’ will go to their Tumblr to check out studded denim shorts.

I found a whole lot of applications that’ll apparently do this Tumblr to WordPress thing FOR YOU, and by that they meant that I’d have to fiddle with codes, fiddle with my Tumblr and possibly fuck up both my blogs. I love how these techno-geeks think it’s that easy. I know a little about codes but honestly I can’t imagine what a site would look like just by looking at a CODE! I’m a blogger, not a site technician. Oh and then there were people who had my problem (nothing was working), and people whose posts were all confuzzled after the switch, broken links, duplicates and also,apparently search engines could possibly remove both blogs because of duplicates because they think you’re copying someone’s blog, so I’d have to edit my whole Tumblr as ‘private’ (so then who’s going to see it? Huh?).

There were the lucky few who were like, “Oh my gosh, I LOVE IT, it totally works”.

Did I say LUCKY FEW?

Some part of me is glad that these developers (of the app) haven’t worked their shit out because I really love my Tumblr, it’s frustrating losing your followers even for the better

(and with hit counters views!!!!!!!)

I’d rather not part with my lovely blog. I discovered what the issue really was through this brain wrenching journey. It’s that primary writer’s block you know, when you’re dealing with a blank page and a lot of thoughts or no thoughts at all or too many thoughts that translate into nothing. The hardest part is starting. You want to have a fantastic blog like, right NOW, and it’s annoying that it isn’t that simple.

I’m glad I went through that shitty process, all my Tumblr followers are going to have to cut me some slack. I’m a writer too!

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Well then . . .

Okay, it’s Saturday afternoon and I took it upon myself to type this post outside in my ‘Zen garden‘.

I could get used to this and that’s because I feel like I have too much to do indoors-a desk,a sewing machine and the lovely things I think of making (NOW),my phone that flicks this mostly annoying red light ( I guess that’s what you’re meant to do-Blackberry), the thoughts- “Am I hungry? Nah I’m not . . . Am I thirsty? sigh yes. I’m going to get  a drink . . . just now. Fuck, when I’m done with this!”- which of course takes forever to get done,with all the distractions it takes (to ignore) to actually get this THING DONE!!!

Ahem.

Oh by the way, for some reason my eye just keeps watering! ONLY ONE! I’m like Brooke from Days of Our Lives who only cries from one eye, except that I’m not crying. So I look like an emotional rhe-tard who cries all the time for like everything and nothing. Like yesterday morning while watering the lawn, I’m like  ‘crying’ like some vegan-fucking hippy who loves nature. Don’t get me wrong- I love nature – but I like pretty gardens that I can ‘meditate’ and throw fancy hangouts in even more (shit. Maybe I am a hippy . . . deep deep deep deep deep deeep deeeeeep DEEEEEEP down inside? Did I say ‘meditate’)

Anyway, in the news today:

Lindsey Lohan tries her trademark ‘side boob’ look, only this time it doesn’t work. Like she totally needs a bra or a bikini or a breast lift or a jacket! I think I’m leaning towards go back home jacket. After all, she is my (and many other girls’) favourite bisexual drug slime girl!

Mmmmm what else? uhhhh I’m pretty sure there are things more important to tell – There is CNN for that, so you’ll probably be there next if you’re interested.

For now I’ going to go into deep thought about what colour I should paint my nails, debate the possible fact that Lindz has no bras left (stolen by druggie fans/friends to sell on ebay), check out some fashion theories and disprove them (Yes, it’s severe and also brilliant) and . . . Well I’ll be back later.

“Meow”

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