I want to come home. And I don’t say this lightly. 4 odd years of wandering around in the wilderness more commonly known as the diaspora has brought home the reality that really, there is no place like home.
In light of the recent price increases and promise I made to someone very important to me, I have decided to go frozen chicken.
So I am currently in the process of selling my soul to the devil, whose present physical form is the credit card companies. The price of souls is overrated anyway, what with trying to keep mind and body together, souls are just excess baggage. And hey, if the Messianic head is valued at 30 pieces of silver, I could do a lot worse.
Like, are there actually TWO of us from the same town with the same name?
We was robbed.
Let me get this clear from the start – I agree about the song sucking, and the video is pretty ordinary. Lax production values, lyrics are dumb, ass sells records etc. Right, disclaimer done.
Who’d have thunk it? A South African team is winning the Super 14 rugby crown, cos the Bulls and Sharks have just won, at home, in the Semis. Against New Zealand teams.
So, in one of my (rare but) more lucid moments, I got to thinking, how many is too many? Knocking boots partners I mean.
So isn’t we went to the Coca-Cola DJ Party at HIFA last night.
Being this far away from the motherland has not significantly altered my M.O with men, namely, love ’em (read f**k ’em) and leave ’em. I know this makes me kind of a slut.
No way, Jose!
You’re such a trip, man. You sit there, smug in your apartment, laughing at the world and mocking people you’ve never met.