Waaaaay too much info

Happy New Year everyone!

Whoohooooo!
weeeeeeeeee!
wooooooo!
Yeah!
Okay i'm done.

Vac’s over.
Hello mind-numbing daily grind.

Grad
Was exactly as I thought it would be: Zzzzzzzzzzz.
I heard some varsities have choirs and performances and stuff. Nope. Not mine. Just an endless string of names periodically interrupted by the shrieking of a neurotic-but-proud mom because apparently cheering loudly just doesn’t cut it. You’ll find it’s not uncommon during grads in SA. Don’t ask - it’s a cultural thing. My dad even signed up one of ‘em moms to screech when my name was called.

Christmas
Spent Christmas with the family (dad and both brothers) at a friend of my dad’s. Turned out to be even more tedious than grad. I ended up watching soccer on TV the whole time which considerably brightened up my day until one nut job decided the time was ripe to interrupt my viewing in order to show off his musician-wannabe nephew’s homemade music video. At that point I thought maybe I could drink the day into oblivion but my dad made sure I knew he was counting and felt 2 drinks was already 1 too many.

Seems the days when merely mentioning the word ‘Christmas’ around me would erect the tiny hairs on the back of my neck are long gone. The prospect of a mysterious present under my bed hand-delivered by Santa himself and more presents under the Christmas tree from my parents and every one of their friends would unfailingly sprout goose bumps on my arms….ahhh the good ol’ days when Christmas was magical and gifts aplenty. I’m not asking for much, I’d settle for a home cooked family lunch with the entire family playing games and cracking jokes like when we were kids. But I can’t remember the last time the whole family was together for Christmas, and these days even if we are, things are just not the same. Over the last couple of years it has lost its appeal and become a drab affair I have to be subjected to every year.

New Years
Well, judge for yourselves.
On that Eve I was home alone with a bottle of Amarula (SA version of Bailey’s) and a bucket full of weed. I’ve already established I’m a loner but even for me that was a whole new level of lonesomeness. With no friends around and my sortof-girlfriend unreachable, I could either tag along with my dad or hang out with the teenage brothers. Both options were completely unacceptable to I opted to stay in an entertain myself.

However, something quite peculiar did happen earlier that afternoon. Take a seat and lean back coz this one’s a biggie. Before I confess allow me to set the stage to soften the blow in a desperate attempt to regain what was once my dignity:

I was bored.
I had gone through every readable material in the house including the shampoo bottle ingredient label and 'Pippi goes to school' in my little sister's collection. My mind was desperate for some stimulation - any sign that it still had the capacity for activity.
That’s when I decided to touch it - the only book left unread in the entire house. My dad had bought it for my 14-year-old sister a couple months back when she was in SA for holidays. I glanced around furtively to make sure no one was looking before tentatively picking it up and quickly retreating to the depths of my room, bolting the door to conceal my crime.

I confess that from page 2 (after my first audible giggle) I was hooked, and I knew there was no putting it down.
I confess that I now will have to re-watch the flick (which I initially thought was a waste of money even though it was from a cheap video store).
I confess that I will now have to 'accidentally purchase' the others in the series.

Its no use trying.
I have lost all self respect and become one those people I love to hate - Harry Potties.
1 down (Chamber of Secrets). 5 to go.

So my new years eve was spent getting stoned, wasted, reading Harry Potter in the garden while fireworks lit up the sky around me. Alone, while my bros got their freak on in town and my dad and a buddy of his decided to hit an underground club. Rock on daddy! My dad is one those stereotypically British-y formal types, always suited up. The kind of guy you can’t help but call 'Sir' or ‘Mr’. Well I shouldn’t be surprised. I suppose even the pope jams to a little Linkin Park on New Year’s Eve right after his evening Hail Mary recital.

Inbetween

I did get some on my trip though. Got quite a lot of some actually.
She asked me not to blog about her (she's been reading this blog for a while now) but I can't help it. Liv, I’m sorry but you will just have to sue me. We have one of those ‘open’ relationships because I don’t feel the need to commit. We used fight a lot about all kinds of little irrelevant things but I think we really connected on this trip and reached a point where I’m beginning to reconsider our non-exclusivity clause. But even if I decided to go full throttle there's always the distance - Cameroon isn’t exactly a bus ride from SA. Unless I relocate?
Dear Dr Ruth,
How do you know when you are in love? I miss her. I enjoy her company. She makes me laugh. She makes me happy. But the thought of her with someone else does not make me jealous.
So how do you know?
Do you just ‘know’?
Grrrrrr.

Ok nuff of that

In other news

Spent the morning appreciating the ‘new and improved’ Acrobat Reader 7.0. It kicks major butt. No more 5-minute waits for the app to load like in the 5.0 series while every person who has ever contributed to any aspect of the project has their name displayed.

I need to quit smoking man. Really. I just cannot have it on next year’s resolution list.

Got to lose the love handles. I swear I will impale the next fucker who talks about my waistline. Fuck off already.

And that concludes my litany.
Au revoir.