How to Ruin a Good Vacation .............

.........Vacation with my mother!!! There I said it and I'm not taking it back. (unless my mama reads this statement,then this blog will have to come down with the speed of light. I might be an independent strong black blah blah blah woman but my mama is even stronger and even at twenty seven I still meet the criteria for being walloped to death lol). Okay so I'm back, scarred, bruised and heavily traumatised but back all the same. Who wouldn't be(scarred,bruised and heavily traumatised)after spending four weeks in the captivity of my mother? (disclaimer: this statement might have to be deleted at the speed of light lol)Seriously my mother has the energy, the intelligence and superhuman five senses that are sharp enough to sap the joy out of any good vacation. By 'joy' I mean men,nightlife and more men.

But having said that I had an amazing holiday. So much to tell and so very little time, but if one word sums up my SA holiday it would be SEX or lack of it but wait 'lack of it' is actually 3 words so SEX it is. Not that I'm confessing to having had any, how could I? My mother not only preaches abstinence but she damn well insures it is practiced with the ruthlessness of an African dictator. My mother is up there with the Hitchcock's or Mafia of the abstinence world. I swear she can detect the tiniest threat of sexual activity before you can even say the words bum skimming shorts or micro mini. Which is a shame, there is no point to having sexy legs if you cant put said sexy legs on display. My mother hypocritically states that thighs should be reserved for the eyes of a husband, but with the same mouth she tells my sister 'what kind of married woman wears such a thing' (thing in this instance standing for very tight micro shorts which ironically she was wearing for a night out with her husband at some random beach party. Clearly there is no pleasing some people ('some people' here completely refers to my mother lol).

Speaking of husbands, my mother hijacked my brand new sinfully expensive (according to my ever expanding overdraft lol) Christian Lacroix nightie (if you could call the flimsy material that). She claims I don't need any sexy nightwear, I don't have a husband. (*deep sigh* 'mum I do have sex you know', ) (Disclaimer: I did not say this out loud to my mothers face, I'm still young, I do not want to die, in fact I would rather let you cut me up into a million pieces or skin me to death than die at the hands of my mother). Apparently I'm not deserving of any sexy lingerie but she is, she did not have the decency to refund me my money, I did not have the suicidal nerve to ask for it. I refuse to imagine what she possibly got up to, or is getting up to in it. I do not want to be permanently emotionally scarred, but i am boycotting Christian L for life, I could never wear it again without having mental images I don't want to ever have, so future potential boyfriends please take notes.

Its a truth universally acknowledged that the sole purpose of going on a foreign holiday is to have sex with a foreign man (or depending on how adventurous you feeling, have sex with foreign men plural) . A safari or two might also be on the agenda, you might be suicidal enough to try bungee jumping or sky diving but ultimately nothing beats having sex with said foreign man. Okay i made that up, but whats the point of going on holiday if sex is not on your 'To do List' ? Speaking of sex, i dont normally kiss and tell but the most important lesson i learnt whilst in Mzansi (SA) was that if you intend on having 'sex on the beach' for maximum comfort buy a beach house, or more practicably have sex with a rich foreign man who already owns a beach house unless you want to spend the rest of your holiday removing sand from your down belows lol.

So I'm not sure if I managed to meet Buttercup(big sigh). I met a street hawker called Mercy (originally from Zimbabwe,but not a relation or acquaintance of Shona's lol) selling vhuka vhuka which she informed me is some kind of p*nis enlargement herbal sh*t, but she denied being responsible for those thoroughly annoying spam emails that fill up my junk folder stating 'Dear Miss DM would you like to enlarge your penis blah blah blah...' Coincidentally I also met a street hooker called Obianujuaku (yes I did ask her to write down the spelling). Apparently her name means 'born to plenty' or 'born to a rich family'. (obviously not that rich if she is plying her feminine wares in the dark alleys of Cape Town). Speaking of Obi I've just has a thought...buttercup I hope that wasn't you lol.

Speaking of hookers I also met a money guzzling, fame hungry,man eating gold digga who was heavily disguised as my brother's girlfriend (lol my mother's words not mine). She loves my mother with the passion of a girl who fears she might be left off the shelf and knows that the way to my brothers heart is through my mother and of course his wallet. My mother in turn treats her with so much contempt, I cant remember my mother disliking anyone so intensely or with so much passion....actually I do, my brother's previously girlfriend who foolishly informed my mother she was 'a non believer'. My mother was incredulous I think little miss non believer holds the Guinness world book record for being thrown out of a house at the speed of lightning.

I've been blubbering non stop, you see I missed you guys,its certainly good to be back to civilisation (by civilisation I mean any place away from my mother lol....you know I love you mama.)

The Cow jumped over the moon.............

in the words of R Kelly.....

My mind....my mind is telling me NO!!!!!!

But my body..my Body is screaming yes yessss yesssssss yes oh yesssss!!!!!!!!

So I'm off to the sunny sometimes cloudy skies of Cape Town and Joburg for a fortnight

to clear the cloudy seeds of doubt.

And when im back, maybe that cow would have jumped over the moon and became a dog,

but if it insists on being called a cow, you might as well line up with your buckets for free semi skimmed milk, coz we gonna milk this cow dry lol!!!!

Buttercup if you meet any drop dead gorgeous sexy intelligent, hot fabalous ******insert any other discription for a bombshell***** skinny bitch, ask for her autograph coz that could definitely be your very own Miss DM. lol

9 Days Celibate and still Counting.........

My celibacy count is back down to a mere 9 days. Don't even know if that still counts as being 'celibate' I miss being celibate (insert big sigh)I miss feeling so self righteous amongst my rampant friends like i belonged to some elite stuffy boring uppity club, wish I had made him just put the 'head' in lol so i could technically still be a celibate non condom buying so and so.

Speaking of condoms God are they so dear.....hmmmmm there is something oddly unsettling about mentioning God and condoms in the same sentence, but seriously last time i bought condoms they cost 20 cents came in one shape, one colour and had the same latex taste lol. I bought my first condoms at 11.....from my brother aged 6 who had stolen them from my mother aged...... well dunno how old she was but my behind was certainly a few years older than me when she was done with it. She kept shouting 'show me where it goes!!!' whilst beating the living daylights out of me. I become permanently scarred, whenever I'm buying condoms my heart is always almost about to leap out of my chest, like she will suddenly leap out from the checkout counter shouting 'show me where it goes!!!' if you know my mama please advise her not to try it though coz i might just.......just...just be brave enough to lift up my skirts and defiantly shout, 'it goes in here mum, its definitely been in here!!!'.

So me and him are having 'a thing'. I hate having 'a thing' with a dude. You know that indescribable confusing stage where you have moved past the point of being casual lays, (we speak on the phone all the time for hours on end, he is the only person I can bare my soul to, and he tells me he loves me and wants to be only with me ) but for reasons best known to myself I absolutely refuse to classify what we 'have' as a relationship so ' a thing' it is. 'Things ' are supposed to be less complicated, I used the word supposed coz they are in reality a whole lot complicated and messy. What is 'a thing?'. Does it give you a licence to diversify your man portfolio? legitimately I can always do another thingy on the side after all ' we are just having a thing' right? Is a relationship a relationship because you have that conversation where you agree to be exclusive and actually say yeah we are now in a relationship, or is it the case of if it looks like a dog, barks like a dog and lives in a Kennel then it is a dog even if it calls itself a cow? if I'm to keep my sanity 'we' can not be in a dog, I insist that what we have is a cow, a non milk producing, barking, kennel sleeping, dog look alike but I insist its a cow nonetheless.

Sexclaus is coming to town .............

Just so you know

Sexclaus is coming to town

and when he does,

he is soooooooo going down my chimney

not once, not thrice, but over and over again

'Sexclaus'

lets do the maths........

fcuking my brains out = Sex

going down my 'chimney', deliverin' my goodies and making my christmas come early = Claus

so Sexclaus

Johhny Teabag upstairs aint got shit on you.

so bye bye Pink Rabbit

The End of 389 days of celibacy.

Free Noodles, Skinny B*tches & Money Induced Orgasms

I nearly had a multiple orgasm whilst standing in line to get free noodles and rice crackers at the newly opened Shimla Pink (Chinese restaurant) just down my street. No i wasn't having sex with some random stranger in the queue jus to pass the time, it was because I Miss Definitely Maybe saw my very first Bugatti Veyron in the flesh, I mean on the road kind of in the flesh and not in some swanky showroom, car show or front pages of Motoring Today. I swear my knees buckled, my stomach did funny little flips and i felt waves of pleasure, that was my first money induced orgasm there and then.

I have never been aggressive when it comes to man hunting, but i nearly whipped off my panties, pushed up my boobs and swore under my breath 'n*gga if you so much as look my way I'm soooooooo gonna do you tonight'......and I was gonna...do him..... like my life depended on it. I haven't been laid in a loooong time and what better way to bring my sexy back than at the back seat of an £800 000 motor f*cking a man who is probably worth 100 times the cost of the said motor. I mean I ain't no gold digga (if my dating record is anything to go by) in fact I love my broke brothers but hey 1998 Honda Accord versus 2007 Bugatti Veyron that's definitely a no brain-er, never mind that said owner of both Bugatti and restaurant was a 40 something, probably midlife crisis undergoing, pot belled dude(he looked like he was hiding more noodles under his sweater than they were giving free at the counter)......I was still going to do him.

So there i was standing in queue, revising my game plan, no longer salivating at the prospect of free noodles and prawn crackers but the chance to tattoo my bottom on those heated leather seats, having hot steamy sex against some classical music background (rich people listen to such nonsense right???), when some skinny bitch appears out of nowhere. Don't get me wrong I have nothing but respect for them skinny bitches, I mean anyone who can live on a diet of Evian water, lettuce leaves and oxygen deserves nothing but respect. I used to think my game was tight, I mean I'm a healthy UK size 10/12 (emphasis on healthy) who has tried all fad diets under the sun to become a slightly skeletal more defined cheekbones and slightly protruding ribcage size 8 and failed miserably so you can understand what i mean when I say i have nothing but respect for those size zero skinny bitches.

Anyway so said skinny bitch walks right up to the door spends 3 or 6 minutes chit chatting with pot belled dude, about the restaurant/free noodles (as if she has ever in her 30 or so years passed a calorie of carbohydrates between those size zero lips of hers), then said skinny bitch brazenly asks to see the motor and before you could say 'hot steamy sex with size zero skinny bitch' pot belled dude was giving his stack of promotional leaflets and instructions to lock up to a probably Honda 1997 driving minion and leading said skinny bitch to the front passenger heated leather seats, and zooming off into the sunset with classical music probably playing in the background. Okay it was 2pm on a cold and frosty afternoon so that sunset was probably a figment of my imagination but damn those skinny bitches sure got game, and she didn't have to whip off her panties, suck in her stomach or push up her boobs, that's why I have nothing but respect for those size zero, Evian water drinking, lettuce nibbling, oxygen sucking skinny bitches.

The Morning After, the Night Before .........

Damn,I woke up with the mother of all hangovers, it was like a terrible untalented loud ass rock band was practising in my head. The 21st birthday party was on Christmas eve, technically I went, but i didn't attend (confusing I know, but that's a story for another day). I stayed up all night waiting for Santa with my bottles of Asti (note the plural) and got sloshed, I mean stone drunk. Its a good thing my two 'audiences' were asleep.

I ended up doing what I always do when I'm drunk........ (which I'm not going to tell you coz you would probably kill me (for throwing my sanity outta the window in an 'i know I'm going to regret this in the morning but what the heck' kind of way)trust me I'm equally mortified, but do i regret it?....Not yet (coz I'm still not clear what actually happened). Which is why I think i need to stop drinking c.o.m.p.l.e.t.e.l.y coz clearly even having a drink once every six months is not working. So i decided to take an 'are you an alcaholic quiz lol' all i will say is "interesting results" will probably post my answers up when i get writers block.

Now that confession time is over, can I make an announcement to all those who buy;
a)knitwear,
b)cheap ass beauty stuff like bath salts, lotions, gels, which are more likely than not to give you rashes and pimples,
c)anything out of the pound shop or anything that looks as if is from the pound shop
d) food in isolation(this includes chocolates, sweets, fruit baskets)
e) outdated electrical stuff such as a play station 1, cameras that still take film, video players etc
f) anything else that ought to make this list but I didn't think about
when it comes to buying Christmas presents...newsflash... "its not only the thought that counts!!!"

My secret Santa at work bought me a cheap ass prezzie I think Santa went to pound-land, i am so disgruntled, I put so much effort in what i bought, I'm glad Santa was anonymous otherwise ....lets just say this would have been his last winter lol yeah am that pissed off about it!!!!!!!!. Personally (i don't know about any one else) I would rather have an expensive Balenciaga bag (Santa hint hint) which has been totally bought on the spur of the moment without any real 'thought' than two plastic plates that have been bought after careful consideration.... that's just me unfortunately I'm shallow like that.

My aunt wins a mini hoover at a Christmas party, so she phones me up and asks if i would like a hoover for my car, so me not being able to pass on freebies was like 'yes please', she says 'cool that is what is your Christmas prezzie,' at this point i do a double take, I will be damned if i accept a mini vacuum cleaner for Christmas. I wait the whole year for Santa only for him to come thru my chimney trudging a hoover? WTF!!!!! I said 'eeerrrr no thanks I will be honoured if thy shalt not give me thy hoover for Christmas,' so she's promised me something else, but she huffed and puffed (in a harmless way lol) that I, like Scrooge lacked a bit of Christmas spirit coz its the thought that counts. I mean don't give me all that bull about the thought counting (absolutely no thought what so ever went into this, she won it in a lucky dip remember), so what if that particular one was expensive, a hoover is always a hoover, damn even my mama still gets lingerie for Christmas lol.

Some people should just know when to shut the F up!!!!. Take my boss for instance, on Wednesday we happened to meet in the corridor just as I'm about to enter into the 'ladies/ lavatory/ the bathroom/ the toilet/ the powder room/ the washroom (delete as appropriate depending in which country you are in lol). Anyway he says 'do you have a minute?' (now what kind of question is that to ask someone standing at the door of a lavatory?) so I'm like 'not really, give me a minute' (coz i needed to 'go' I have one of the weakest bladders on planet earth) but he says 'oh this will only be a minute,' so i say 'sure'(and he rattles on and on about a case I'm currently working on) and this point im crossing my legs (coz its THATS bad) but he doesn't stop, I'm tryna interrupt but the fool keeps talking, so i put my hand on the door handle thinking he would get the hint but does he stop? No, the minute he said he was going to take becomes five, ten or 3 hours (according to my bladder anyway), so i open the main door into the ladies and kinda put one foot in (so that he could pointedly see that i now had to go) but he drones on and on, he just has no clue (the same goes for his managerial skills) and this point I'm just about to pee in my pants, so i say look i will speak to you later okay, and he has the nerve to say I'm nearly done jus gimme a second, i just make a dash for the nearest cubicle and even as i closed the door i heard him yell something else which sounded like 'Do you want me to leave the file on your desk so you can check the scro paperwork before we shut down for Christmas?' I'm like, wtf does this fool expect to carry on with this conversation whilst I'm peeing too????

On a totally random but randy note, am watching this movie where they are making Johnny upstairs seem like an amateur ....I s.e.r.i.o.u.s.l.y need air, its not easy trying to be celibate, 'if true love waits' then true love needs to get its behind here asap lol. Most of the times I'm kinda into 'not getting any' but on nights like this......sweet Jesus....its just temptation, temptation, temptation. So Santa if you are reading this please hurry up with those giant ear muffs AND true love...in fact if you are going to deliver the true love in time for this Christmas season you might as well forget those giant ear muffs cause i plan to give Johnny and his girl upstairs a ride for their money coz they sure ain't the only ones with vocal chords lol.

Im not the mushy type but to all my blogville family, happy holidays and a big thank you for keeping me sane even when my world felt like a sanitorium. Love you all.......thats enough mushiness, lemme get back to my movie.........

No Sex in this City ................

There should be a law against having wall shaking, floor thudding, window rattling, bed breaking, mind blowing sex (yes Sho' am talking to you lol), particularly if you live in an apartment above someone who isn't getting any, or hasn't been getting any for a while. Surely its just good neighbourliness, it makes sense, in the same way as you wouldn't eat your KFC bucket with extra large fries and two large sides in front of starving kids at a refugee camp in Somalia.

Okay bad analogy cause I'm not starving, 'starving' would mean that I am hungry yet no 'food' is available, which is not true coz the 'food' can be made available yet I'm choosing not to eat lol maybe I'm becoming sexnorexic. But seriously its been exactly 9 months since I last got laid. The first 4 of those were hell, mainly because I was still in a long distance relationship and I missed my man so much going to bed alone was intolerable, so to make me feel better we had more phone sex during those 4 months than the rest of Holland put together, I use Holland as an example coz the rest of Europe is ultra conservative. The last 5 months have been completely erotic free, meaning no sex, no alternatives to sex, no plans to get sex and very little thoughts about sex lol. Its kinda like being on a diet, the first 3 weeks are hard work (apparently it takes that long for your pallet to change)and then afterwards you get used to the 'diet' it becomes a routine, second nature, you wonder how a few months back you could possibly eat cream cakes 3 times a day, or wake up in the middle of the night for a banana or two?

So having successfully managed to keep my apartment a 'sex free zone' for 5 months running, you can imagine my frustration of having to endure night after night of 'oh Johnny oh Johnny ha ha ha oh Johnny Johnny ha ha ha Johnny oh Johnny ohhh ha ha ha johnny Johnny oh oh ha ha ha....... seriously how many times can one say Johnny in a minute followed by laughter then thuds, rattling more ha ha has a few Johnny's' a couple of oohs more rattling or ha ha has then a few high pitched Johnny's' then comes my favourite part of the evening.....silence, total silence. Five months is a long time in Sex-land so maybe am a bit out of touch but since when has sex become so funny that one has to say an average of 20 ha ha Ha's a minute? I know for definite that Johnny upstairs ain't no Chris Rock, he's an Electrician by trade lol so naturally i'm curious as to the cause /source of those ha ha Ha's......anyone with a hyperactive imagination to help me out?

So when was the last time you had noisy, wall shaking, floor thudding, window rattling, bed breaking, mind-blowing sex? (and please no answers on postcards, keep it to yourselves thank you!). But seriously who ever told people that making more noise or making the apartment expierence a mini earthquake(all the rattling and shaking) means you are enjoying it a whole lot? Once upon a time, in an era long gone, the most I could manage if i was really enjoying myself were one syllable words, anything longer meant my mind wasn't yet blown away lol.I'm not hating on my horny neighbours upstairs, or cussing the building company for making low quality apartments with paper thin walls, all i'm saying is.....Santa for Christmas please bring me one gaint pair of ear muffs , or better still wave your magic wand so that jus for a day, today, there is no noisy, wall shaking, floor thudding, window rattling, bed breaking, mind-blowing sex in this city!!!!