16 Sep 2011
09:02:00

WORLD CUP – I’M EXCITED

Yay for the World Cup!

I’m ‘sporting’ a pink rugby jersey. Yes, I bought it from the side of the road. And yes I spent half an hour trying different ones on and asking the audience of twenty guys on the side of the road which one I should go for.

Because not all my clients have the ‘No Work during World Cup’ policy that I have, I was forced to attend a meeting this morning. While I was the only person in a ten person meeting wearing a rugby jersey, I was not perturbed and went through the room introducing myself. Just as we were about to begin, a fellow Springbok supporter walked into the room.

Everyone went quiet, cellphones were immediately silenced, the plant moved itself closer against the wall. Even the aircon kicked in as if to cool down this God of Good Looks who had, in slow motion, entered the room with such grace, such confidence and such sexiness that the meeting, and now my life, had meaning.

God of Good Looks: I see we have at least one another supporter in the room.

Me: Hee hee hee

In my head: Ok. Giggling needs to stop.

Me: Hee hee hee

In my head: Stop the giggling. For the love of God Baglett stop giggling.

GOGL: I would like to keep this meeting short today people so let’s get moving. I’m wearing green and gold but I don’t want to be green and old.

Me: BWWWWWWWWWWWWWHAAAAHHHAAAAAAAAAAAA. HYSTERICAL!

In my head: Not that funny Baglett, calm yourself.

GOGL: So let’s strategise…

He leaned back and through his shirt I could see pecs of such precision, I assumed he was CEO by day and a member of the cast of Heroes at night. Once I had stared at his chest for what seemed like eternity, I did what all girls do, I moved down to his hands to see if he was in fact taken. And there it was, the band that crushed all women’s hopes of bagging this beauty. As I stared at his wedding ring, I began to wonder about his life, what his wedding was like and what he was like as a husband. I cannot explain why all these thoughts went through my head, but I was powerless to stop them.

GOGL: Baglett?

There I was, in a room of ten people, staring at a man’s wedding ring. I had no idea how long I had been staring for, but judging from the expressions on people's faces, and the way God of Good Looks was now hiding his hand under his jersey, it was considerable.

GOGL: Baglett, are you alright?

It was my moment to make up for such obvious stalking, my chance to redeem myself and come across as the professional I was supposed to be. It was a chance for me to stop turning the colour of my pink rugby jersey. I turned to him, smiled and then out came

Me: RUGBYYYYY WORLD CUUUPPP! WOOOOOOHOOOOOO!

Motto: If you’re going to embarrass yourself, do it properly.

This blog first published on www.baglett.co.za. Published with the permission of Baglett.

02 Aug 2011
09:16:00

TROLLIED

So in an effort to be more mature, more responsible, more like my mother, I decided to do a monthly shop last night to avoid the overpriced daily shop I do at the petrol station.

The chosen venue? The Pick n Pay off William Nicol with more aisles than Vegas. Parking my trolley neatly next to frozen foods section, I went in search of wine. With enough bottles to last me the night, I grabbed my trolley and pushed on. A few minutes later, while deciding if it was necessary to buy the latest Verimark product, I looked down at my trolley and saw cupcakes. I had no recollection of buying cupcakes and assumed my subconscious had a shopping list of its own. Next to the cupcakes were baby formula and nappies, and while trying not to freak out at the realisation I was suffering from severe memory loss, I started hysterically going through my trolley while shouting ‘What the f*ck is this? Herbs?! Soy milk?! Is this some sort of magic trolley?!’

Lady sweating: Excuse me; you’ve taken my trolley.

I looked around to see five people staring at me either because I was creating a scene by talking to a trolley or because they had watched the woman in question chase after me for five aisles. There was only one thing to do. The right thing.

Me: I don’t think so.

LS: Um, yes it is.

Me: Nope. You’re wrong, it’s mine.

LS: But I just saw you look at everything and start shouting.

Me: Only because I couldn’t find the baby formula, see it was under the nappies! Problem solved!

LS: So you’ve got kids then?

Me: Absolutely. Love those little terrors.

LS: Really, so what are their names?

Trying to conjure up fake kids names on the spot was going to be tricky and I looked around the aisles for inspiration.

Me: Tupper and organic.

LS: Organic?

Me: Yes, Organic. I like the environment.

LS: Fine, keep the trolley.

Me: I will. Because it’s mine.

With that, I headed off to check-out counter, followed by sweating lady while she watched me pay for items I had no use for.

Dinner consisted of crème soda and cupcakes. Awesome.

16 May 2011
10:00:00

A Religious Experience

So I was driving today and looked up to see a blind man with a walking stick in my lane. I’ve often wished someone had helped me out when I was blind drunk and walking in the road instead of on the pavement so I hopped out my car, stopped traffic (always wanted to say that) and said to the man:

‘Duuuuuuuuude, you’re walking in the friggin road!’

The man was heart breakingly apologetic so I helped him onto the pavement and realised I couldn’t just leave him standing there for fear that he would start playing with traffic again.

I established that he was not drunk but was going to the nearby church where they give him taxi money to get home. I realise of course that I’m not supposed to give strangers a lift and had to rule out that this man was no more blind than I was and the stick he was carrying was not a well disguised knife and/or gun. It was therefore imperative to ask him a few questions.

Me: Are you really blind? Or is this a trick?

Blind man: I’m blind.

Me: How old are you?

BM: 76

Me: Are you planning to kill me?

BM: No.

So I was standing with a geriatric blind man who was on his way to church and promised to, in no way, shape or form, assassinate me. After I checked his walking stick for bullets, I realised I had no idea where his church was so I stopped two little old ladies who apparently were going the same way. Before I knew it, I had a car full of people on my way to church. A first for me.

On arrival, the two ladies hopped out and I walked my blind friend into the church. Once he assured me he was fine, I went back to my car and was interrupted by a tap on the window.

I looked up to find an incredibly hot, suave-looking man with blue eyes and a smile that I assumed was genetically passed on from his angel parents. He had a weird shirt on but I let that slide.

Angelic looking man: Is everything ok?

Me: Yes, why?

ALM: It’s just that I saw you with that man…

Me: Oh yes, well he was walking in the middle of the road. I did that once and, well; you don’t need to know the rest of that story…

ALM: That was very kind of you. God bless you.

Me: God what?

ALM: God bless you. I appreciate your help. I’m a minister at this church.

Me: And I’m a member of this church!

ALM: Are you?

Me: No. That’s a lie. I just lied to a minster.

ALM: You’re welcome to join…

Me: Are you performing this Sunday?!

ALM: If by performing, you mean leading the service, then yes.

Me: I’ll see you this Sunday.

This blog first published on www.baglett.co.za. Published with the permission of Baglett.

08 Apr 2011
08:20:00

OH LOOK, IT’S FREEZING

This is what I’ve been whining for weeks:

‘When is winter coooooming? I’m over this heat, the constant blood donations to the mozzie population, sweating in bed (and not the fun kind) and I’m so bored of my summer wardrobe, if I see another boob tube I’m going to vomit all over it.’

This is what I said as I walked out the door last night:

‘HOLY F*CK!’

And then ran back inside.

The Lawyer: What are you doing?

Me: Hibernating, what are you doing?

TL: We have to go to dinner Bags.

Me: Tell dinner to come here, if it makes it through the ice and sleet.

TL: It’s 10 degrees, it’s hardly the Arctic.

Me: Have you been to the Arctic?

TL: No.

Me: Well then, best you shutup.

Twenty minutes later while The Lawyer patiently waited for me in the car, I was ready.

TL: What are you wearing?

Me: Suitable clothing for the elements we are currently braving.

TL: Is the hat necessary?

Me: It matched my scarf.

TL: And the gloves?

Me: I can’t feel my fingers.

TL: And the boots - I assume are because we’re in Russia.

Me: Can you switch the seat warmers on please?

TL: I don’t have seat warmers.

Me: Well do you have some sort of fireplace or something?

TL: Yes, it’s in the back with the outdoor heater and my collection of hot water bottles. Bags, I thought you wanted winter to come?

Me: Not this kind of winter. One where there’s a light breeze, enough to wear my very cool hat, not a wind that feels like someone is throwing knife shaped icicles at me.

TL: It’s only going to get worse.

Me: Then I’m only going to get worse.

TL: I was referring to you.

28 Mar 2011
11:17:00

BITE ME

While getting changed in front of my thin mirror last night, I turned to the side to get the full effect and then...

Me: WHAT THE F*CK IS THAT!?

A bruise the size of my palm was on my thigh with a dot in the middle. I’m no vet but I assumed the CD-sized bruise was the product of a spiderbite. Believing I was an hour or so away from death I put a call through to The Lawyer.

Me: I’m phoning to say goodbye.

TL: Most people start with hello.

Me: I’ve been bitten by a spider.

TL: What is wrong with you?!

Me: What is wrong with me?  It’s not like I went in search of a spiders nest, pissed one off and then said ‘Hey suck on my thigh!’

TL: I’m sure you’re not dying.

Me: I googled spiderbites, I’m eight to ten hours away from death.

TL: Why don’t you go to the chemist and ask them?

Me: I can’t drive. I’m supposed to keep my leg elevated.

TL :So what must I do?

Me: Notify my family? Tell them I love them?

TL: Phone The American, he knows about this kind of stuff.

Phone The American

Me: What do you know about spiderbites?

TA: I know that you’ll probably die.

Me: That’s what I thought.

TA: What kind of spider was it?

Me: One with legs and fangs.

TA: If it goes blue and veins start shooting from it, it’s probably best to cut off your leg.

Me: But I’ve got to go to dinner now.

TA: Well then you’ll be legless anyway so why bother?

With both The Lawyer and The American being useless and unsympathetic, I called my parents.

Me: Dad, I’ve been bitten by a spider.

Dad: GGGhhhhhh, ggghhhh, going through a tunnel. Can’t. Hear. You.

Me: This is the home phone Dad.

Dad: LOOOOOOVE! Baglett’s dying.

Mom: Of course she is. Of what?

Dad: An incy wincy spider.

Me: That’s not funny, If I die, you’ll be sad.

Dad: Well your brother’s back home now so we might be ok. Want me to call him so you can say your goodbyes?

Me: Bite me.

Dad: Is that what you said to the spider?

Twelve hours and counting. I’m losing feeling in my legs but that may have something to do with the fact I’ve kept them elevated for about four hours.