Tuesday, September 08, 2009
breaking out the frocks
I start my Alliance Advanced French course tonight. Just crept up on me.
God, just when I was relearning Itye – Bedroom Itye – my head is going to fall off from the confusion.
Well. I hope it doesn’t actually fall off, because that would be well shameful, but either way, trying to be focused right now is a little bit of an effort.
Poen is coming home for a bit. Fuck yes. I’ve missed my friend – staying in Kenya and latching onto the Masai dream – and oh baby she’s coming home for a bit.
Hibernation is OVAH.
I’m making the strongest yukka EVAH this weekend.
Ant and I are having a joint birthday braai bash, and I’m going to get everyone within a 50 metre radius of that punch bowl, very very drunk.
Spring has fucking sprung. Who knew it ever would.
I can wear nothing to bed now and not discover frostbite on my protruding bits the next morning.
Music sounds better.
My dildo is magically and suddenly working again.
Birds chirp in the morning.
I’m going to fucking Rome baby.
They’re no longer stocking fucking croutons or large quantities of soups at Woollies. This is a complete mindfuck. Because that’s what I’ve been living on for 6 months.
And frankly, I wander the aisles wondering what the hell is going to suitably replace that. The conclusion I’ve come to is water and nuts.
Because if I ride a Vespa across Rome I’d better look like Audrey Hepburn.
Now. Can I wear the red beret to my first French lesson tonight, or will they throw artichokes at me?
God. I’m so culturally confused.