AWL
Hello lovely people. I’ll be away for about a week so expect to read some more from July again. Take care and be good…
RIP Insig
The last-ever issue of Insig landed in my mailbox today. I’ve only started on it but already I’m feeling sad. It’s true the magazine was struggling in it’s final months but I’m more sad about what it means for quality journalism in this country.
Don’t get me wrong, there’s a place for everyone but it seems anything with half an ounce of intelligence is simply fading into the background.
I know newspapers are filling some gaps – the M&G and BY are both excellent publications but there’s a big difference in them and the Insigs of the world: they’re not magazines.
I have a serious love affair with magazines and it always cuts me when one I enjoy reading closes. Towards the end of Insig’s lifespan I had stopped reading, I must admit, but it was still better quality than most.
What is out there for me to read? I don’t like business stuff so the finance mags are out. Noseweek is too annoying and the only women’s magazine I really enjoy is Marie Claire.
The others are either too old or too young or too much like a women’s magazine. Even those targeting my age group don’t get it right – too young, I think.
I wish we had a reading public like they do in the US, UK and France. Those readers ensure magazine journalism is of the highest quality – and people buy them for it.
So I’m saying goodbye to Insig now but I’m afraid I’m saying goodbye to so much more.
To be or to SABC
Does anyone really care about the PSL being on SABC or on SuperSport? Maybe it’s because I’m not a sports fan that I don’t really care.
Or maybe it’s because Dali Mpofu has proven again and again what a loser he is that I’m glad the SABC didn’t get it. Maybe it will cause such an outcry that he’ll be fired and there may be hope for the national broadcaster again.
Then again, with someone like Butana Khompela in his corner…
Growing, growing, grown
Aren’t they supposed to stop growing when you’re 18? Bras are expensive dammit!
I just can’t seem to control the girls – they’re growing in leaps and bounds. Someday, they’ll make a boob of themselves with all this growing.
Although I realise most men would salivate at the thought of their girlfriend’s bosoms expanding at the age of 24, I am not impressed. It’s just plain annoying.
I remember as a teen I had an intense fear of someone realising I was wearing a bra. I used to wear dark t-shirts under my white school lshirt and pester my mom to check if you could see the straps.
Until she screamed at me that it’s quite normal to have breasts and that I should be proud of them anyway. I wasn’t; they just got in the way.
I HATED bra shopping because my dad would eventually end up wearing it on his head (he thought it was funny because they looked like the things horses have on their eyes) and I’d have to fit them on (thereby acknowledging they exist). It was really, really crap.
Eventually I grew out of hating them and just kinda ignored them.
It’s weird but I’ve never been particularly proud of them even though many people have said I have nice cleavage. They’re just there. Appendages. Stuff. Things that get in the way of my clothes.
The only thing good about them is I get to buy beautiful underwear to cover them (but, of course, they want to be sheathed in only the finest and nicest which costs money.)
But what’s a girl to do? I’ve grown to live with them. Now if only they’d stop growing.
It’s not touched me
I don’t know about you but I can say, in all honesty, that the national strike has not made one iota of difference in my life. I don’t mean I haven’t been concerned but rather I mean directly: I haven’t been affected AT ALL.
Yes, my brother’s been home from school for two weeks but other than that nothing. I haven’t been stuck in traffic; been turned away from hospital, etc, etc. Even the mass strikes that occurred last week didn’t even blip on my radar.
I was wondering if that was weird or if it’s been that way for others too. I’m not saying I want something to happen to me, I’m just wondering how much it’s affected you.
Of virgins and burning eyes
Batman is a good person. He believes in religion and all that it offers. But that doesn’t mean he has to believe every nutjob that comes around claiming to have seen the Virgin Mary. And good on him for doing so.
I’ve been tempted to write about Francesca Zackey before but decided not to because she’s already had too much publicity and writing about religion always gets me into trouble.
But the latest bit is too much. A lady going blind because she looked into the sun? Oh what a shocker. Another stupid incident brought on by religion.
What amazes me is the fact that everyone is now slamming the seer of Her Lady. Of course she’s talking rubbish, I think, how could anyone be dumb enough to look into the sun???
Isn’t that one of the first things they teach you in Sub A – Grade one for those who don’t know about subs and standards?
I vaguely remember Miss Adams telling us how bad it is to look into the sun and us wanting to tempt fate but being way to scared. How is it then that a grown woman disregards every normal thought to look into the burning ball in the sky?
I want to just shake my head and write it off as another dumbass thing to do but this just completely reconfirms my belief that religion is a bad thing. It’s the root of wars and the corrupter of men. Opium of the masses and all that; instigator of all things stupid.
I’m probably going to get a lot of flack for writing this but come now people – this is 2007. You can’t in all honesty say it was normal for an adult to look into the sun because some unknown girl claims she’s seen a holy figure. How can you justify that?
All stitched up
Men, I’ve concluded, are useless with describing garments. If you really want to know what something looks like, don’t ask a guy. It’s a battle in which you’ll come a poor second.
For example, I’d forgotten a jacket at my partner’s brother’s house. My partner got it and wasn’t sure if it was mine.
His brother had originally told me it was a grey hoodie so I didn’t think it was mine but listened to my partner’s description (on the phone) nonetheless.
Me: Are you sure it’s mine? I don’t have a grey hoodie. What does it look like?
He: It’s a kind of green, grey, beige.
Me: Those are three very different colours.
He: It’s also blue.
Me: *Sigh* Um…is it thick?
He: It’s not very thick but it is thick.
Me: Does it have a hood?
He: It has a hood but you can take it off.
Me: So it has a hood but it can come off and is green, grey and beige?
He: Yes, and blue. Is it yours?
Me: I’ll have to see because I have no idea what the thing looks like based on what you just said.
He: Ag…ok.
Turns out the jacket (light rainjacket) was army-green with a blue interior. It is indeed my jacket and the name of the place I worked was stitched on the pocket. Neither of them had seen it and realised it must be mine. Go figure.
A Jitterbug phone
What is this? A phone that only, well, phones? How is it possible? Is it real? I mean, who only receives and makes calls? It can’t be true…
Oh but it is and I loved the way this writer spoke about the seduction of having a phone that only makes and receives calls. It’s called the Jitterbug and is designed mostly for older people intimidated by ‘new’ technology.
I don’t know if I could make it with one – but then again, why not. Maybe I should get one. Maybe I should have no phone…
From way back when
I saw the most beautiful pictures of Cape Town a while ago. I’ve been trying to find more but can’t so I’m sharing my favourite out of the lot. It is absolutely amazing how much has changed since then – but also, how little has changed since then.
I don’t know the year or much else about it except it’s Adderley Street. It looks incredibly romantic and serene and I wish I could be there for just one day to see what it was like.
Lotto grotto
Hey, does anyone know what’s happening with the National Lottery? I haven’t heard anything in a while and thought maybe my brain has shut out all reports of this provider of false hope and failed dreams.
TOBBHERHANK 
