A life time break

I turned on my laptop yesterday morning with the sole purpose of finishing up something I had been working on for a couple of weeks. So I did, and whilst waiting to hear from someone with some additional information, it slipped my mind to copy paste a part of my work on a word page document. Thats when my internet chose to screw me over by disconnecting on its own and leaving me bawling like a baby, when moments later I clicked submit and lost my work all together.

Now this morning the website simply won't open again, and I feel as if there is a force preventing me from doing this. I am a good person and God knows I don't deserve to be jinxed like this for the rest of my life. I am so tired of rolling downhill and not finding level ground too walk on. I want to cry all over again but its not good for my health because i'm still alive and nobody has died to warrant any tears.

I seriously need a break from all this bad karma or whatever and it would be nice if it started with the website I need to open up and for me to remember what I wrote yesterday........ I really need a break.

STATE OF MIND- BORED

Ugh,  I'm sitting behind my laptop once again, on a Saturday evening prowling the internet for anything exciting so that i don't go out of my mind with boredom. Yes, I'm staying in on a Saturday night, not because i choose to but because i actually have no-one and no where to go to. If i had a boyfriend I'm pretty certain i would be with him giving him some much deserved TLC, and if i had somewhere to go I'd probably be on my second round of cocktails which would undoubtedly take away my appetite for at least two days and make me loose two kilos of my hard-earned weight gain- yes i really struggled to get here, stuffed my face like no man's business.
But alas here i am, bored to the tenth degree, but delightfully curvy and voluptuous, wondering what colour to paint my nails next and why some-one won't phone me, so we have a totally meaningless conversation; but a conversation nonetheless.

Lets have a toast for the douchebags

Male-bashing has never been my forte but for once in a life time I'm going to dedicate this to the douche-bags who tormented my life this weekend! I've been man-handled, dry humped and had slurred drunken words whispered into my ear about indecent things no woman should ever have to listen to.

So if you are a douche bag who's let your words and actions cause a woman to dislike you, word of advice; get sobered-up and talk to the woman you are interested without being under the influence. And most importantly keep your hungry fingers off her pristine body and keep in mind that if you are truly a sweetheart, she'll make the first move by actually reaching out, and touching you lightly on the arm or thigh throughout your conversation.

ATTENTION: Wardrobe Mal-function

Once upon a time modern day Cinderella had a dress made for her out of a beautiful fabric....the dress turned out to be a disaster and now its only three days to the ball and Cinderella has absolutely nothing to wear. Where's the fairy god mother, that the ever popular children tale speaks of, who materializes out of thin air in a puffy dress - or in this case of the twenty first century,in a lady Gaga outfit with her purse made out of pork products as her magic wand? 

When you find her let me know, I desperately need her services.

Tales of the blog snob

I haven't blogged in the longest time, its been over a month, I think. it's not entirely my fault because I've been rather boring and nothing interesting has happened that is worthy of blogging...
Yes I know; I can be a little snobby about what I blog about. This is not entirely my fault because in the end I actually want people to laugh or cry about something super interesting or inspiring that I have blogged about instead of read the first two lines and loose interest because my literary skills - which personally I think are pretty clever and witty- suck to the highest degree.

So I discovered a new African writer called Ben Okri over the weekend whilst I was at the hair salon giving my lovely locks some well deserved pampering whilst sweating under the sweltering heat of a hair dryer set I am very sure, at about 45 degrees Celsius. Any way before I digress and go on and on about how hot and sweaty it was under that hair dryer, I must admit that I totally fell in love with Ben Okri and the beautiful way he wove his literary style into his short stories in the novel 'Incidents at the Shrine'. I found myself bursting into laughter with each line and at each turn of page and I was pretty sure the salon girls and other clients thought I was quite mad. If you aren't a bookworm like me, I doubt if you will ever understand what I mean about discovering a literary treasure.

It all started about sixteen years ago when I discovered a book entitled 'The Singing chameleon' hidden away under layers of dust amongst my grand-dad's mountainous collection of bookshelves in corridors in their house in Tema. The book was a children's book which originally belonged to my mother- a prize she won in primary school for best English student or should I say for being a know it all- and had long been forgotten to be lost amongst those other ancient books. I discovered it by a fluke accident whilst prowling the bookshelves for any books I had not yet read; because television was too boring with its myriad of local shows which did nothing to peak the interest of a twelve year old. It was like a god-send that book; and I gobbled it all up in about four days whilst laughing to the point of tears at the quirky characters and the unpredictable and intelligent harp playing chameleon. Reading 'Incidents at the Shrine' did the same thing for me, I relived that joy which comes from reading a novel which brings so much light into your life when you are going through some really dark times in life.

I'm not done reading my new found love yet, but tonight at 11pm, him and i have a one on one date whilst everyone in my house is sleeping. I've even got my outfit picked out already to entice my new love to come to bed with me; I'll be wearing my blue satin PJ's with my hair wrapped in my satin scarf and my spectacles perched on my nose, sweetly smelling of Idylle by Geurlain, whilst I open up my new found love to the page where we last left each other, and wait for him to enthrall me with his captivating tales...

Identification With-held

I received a call today from an unidentified number and totally regretted answering the call after-wards. Cause of regret? The caller basically refused to name whom they were because I simply asked the harmless question of who the caller was.
For the next five minutes this individual goaded me into a silly game of cat and mouse by refusing to identify themselves, but offering me information about myself i.e where i lived. Then he had the guts to ask me if I was home or at work. So I gave the cheekiest  answer I could muster at the moment, 'I am on mars' - just in case he was a psychotic serial killer who would come and murder me in the comfort of my own home if i revealed my whereabouts to him- and my caller burst into guffaws of laughter which further upset me although I kept my cool and forced myself to not hang up hoping the person would eventually identify themselves.

Moments after my cheeky comment he did give me his name; sadly I still had no clue who in the world he was...???? He said he'd call back after work, so if I'm still in a good mood by then, I'll answer my phone and try and figure out who this annoying stranger is and where in the world I made his acquaintance. Until then, I am sorely pissed off!

Brassiere - Weapon of destruction

I learned a new expression today  ' I no dey fear any bra',whilst chatting online with a friend and talking about the types of women he had met. Apparently it is the new pidgin English way of saying that he is not afraid of any woman...
Well that's too bad because as much as men like to say they are not afraid of any female, I know they are a little bit afraid of women partly because we are so beautifully complex, yet intriguing.

So don't mind any man who say's 'I no dey fear any bra' because trust me, the very minute you bite the corner of your lower lip with that sultry, innocent 'come hither' look in your eyes, whilst unsnapping your brassiere which supports your nubile loaded weapon, he'll be too whipped to keep rambling on about how fearless he is against 'bras' and you would be the triumphant victor of the battle he should have been afraid of in the first place. :D