Monday 31 August 2015

Open Wide....Now Tell Me Your Life's Story

On Thursday last week I went for a follow-up appointment with my doctor. For those who missed my post about my first awkward visit to my doctor, that post can be found here. Once again he enquired about my well-being before taking me to an examination room and ordering me to drop my pants. It was no less awkward having another man fondle my genitals than the previous time, but at least this time he decided a sonar wasn't required so I wasn't exposed to the discomfort of having my man-bits lubed up again. And, as before, he looked me dead in the eye while handling my family jewels to see if there was any discomfort. I am just extremely grateful that he did not resort to small talk while fondling me! But that got me thinking. On my last visit to the dentist it was quite a different story. For some reason a dentist firmly believes in engaging in some light conversation while busy in your mouth. I normally wouldn't mind this, as I can grunt in agreement if the topic calls for it. But it gets quite weird when he asks you a question. And then looks at you expectantly while you decide how to answer someone who has various pieces of dental equipment, both hands and a little suction pipe for excess saliva in your mouth!
This has often baffled me! How does he want me to answer? Telepathically? Using hand signals? Do I need to wag my tongue in Morse code? Another time the dentist required me to swallow, also while I had a myriad of metal implements and gloved human fingers in my mouth. Now I am one of those people who can't swallow with my mouth open. Trying to communicate this to my dentist was pointless, as he couldn't understand what I was grunting. He just kept telling me to swallow, so I did, biting him in the process. Needless to say he was quite upset about that! After extracting his bruised fingers and various bits of steel, he angrily demanded an explanation. After I explained the situation he carried on working, but conversation was dialled down to a minimum lest I try to answer him and he loses a finger.

After my experience with the chatty dentist and my thankfully silent (but still awkward) experience with my urologist, I have developed a deep sympathy for all women out there who have to deal with extremely talkative gynaecologists. I can just imagine the awkwardness of having to chat to him/her about your weekend or career while having your lady-bits touched and probed. Ladies, I finally understand your pain!

Monday 24 August 2015

Open Mouth, Insert Foot!

We've all done it. You say something that sounds completely fine in your head but as soon as it is out and you start noticing the stares, you realise you may have just said something completely weird. The popular term for this is Foot-In-Mouth-Syndrome and I thought I would have a look at a few examples found on the internet.
  • A woman walked into a store specialising in golf equipment and asked a salesman if she could see his balls. After everyone burst out laughing she realised what she had said and walked out again without saying a word.
  • "When I was in high school, I worked as a cashier at a local grocery store. One weekend, at the very end of a ten-hour shift, I was utterly exhausted and partially brain dead. A woman came through buying diapers and baby formula, and as we chatted she confided in me that she had a newborn at home. I, in my brain-dead state, took one look at her still-heavy-with-baby-weight frame and popped off with, "Oh, and another one on the way!" Unfortunately it didn't click until AFTER the words were out of my mouth. I spent the rest of the weekend praying I would never see her again."
  •  "Several years ago I used to work alongside my best friend, cooking in a small diner. One day I spotted a pair of rather unattractive older women coming into the restaurant and, finding their appearance amusing I quipped, "Oh look! Fat old ladies in baseball caps!" My friend never said a word, and it wasn't until he went out to speak to the women that I realized I had seen them before. They were my friend's mother and sister."
  •  Barista: “Here’s your change… have a nice day.”
    Customer: “You know, you haven’t smiled once.”
    Barista: “Sorry.”
    Customer: “I’m so sick of the attitude of people in the service industry! Is it so hard to give your customers a smile as you’re pouring water through beans? You all are so arrogant, it makes me sick!”
    Barista: *eyes begin to well up*
    Customer: “Why aren’t you smiling?!”
    Barista: “…because my father died last night.”
    (At this point, you could hear a pin drop. The customer was literally glared out of the shop, forgetting her coffee.)
  • "I remember, when working as a clerk in a library, telling a young Indian girl she should work hard during the summer and, "get up early to milk the cows." She looked at me and said "We don't eat cows." Then she left, making me feel like a moron."
  • "My little brother and I, 6 and 11 at the time, were at the park with my mom walking through some heavily wooded trails. We must have been pretending we were in a jungle or something and my brother and I ran ahead on the trail out of sight from my mom. We came across a very obese couple walking in the other direction and we both smiled at them. At the same moment my mom who is still out of sight yells "Look Out For The Elephants!!" My brother and I froze in shock as they passed up and then turned to watch as my mom came around the corner and the smile on her face turned into a look of horror. Just as she passed them she says very ackwardly "And the giraffes and bears too..."
  • "I'm scoring at my son's school cricket match. As is the convention, the other school has a Dad who is also scoring, so that we can both keep the score books in agreement. Turns out he went to the same high school as me, which is odd, because it is not either of the schools that our sons are going to. So we start reminiscing about old teachers, blah blah blah. Before long, we're getting on famously. Later on, while his son's team are batting (and so most of their team is off the field) some young 14 year old girl with too short a skirt and too much make-up comes up to them and behaves in a manner that is far too familiar to be proper. I figure she is a sports groupie hoping to get lucky with a trophy jock. So I say to my new found scoring mate, "Gee, someone's going to go to jail for that little tart." He says "What? My daughter?" An instant hideous painful death would have been a blessing. Because we were stuck with each other's frosty company for the next several hours."
And I decided to end off this post with a story of my own. A video store that I used to frequent upgraded from a card system to a biometric system that reads your finger prints and brings up your account. So the one day I had decided to rent some DVDs and was waiting at the counter for the (female) assistant to tell me when to place my finger on the biometric reader. Unthinkingly I told her "Let me know when you want my finger." She turned beet-red and all of the people in line behind me burst out laughing. And with that comment I officially joined the Foot-in-Mouth Club!

Monday 17 August 2015

An Appetite for Peas

I recently read An Appetite for Peas by Casey B Dolan. While the title makes this book sound like some strange manual on the joys of vegetarianism, I assure you it is not! It is her autobiography, and before you give a groan of despair, it is actually very good! Normally when it comes to autobiographies I tend to avoid them like a cat avoids a bubble bath, generally because the authors fall into one of three categories:
  • The "I am so important/popular/interesting/all of the above that you simply must read my story" category
  • The "My life was terrible and I feel extremely sorry for myself" category
  • The "I believe I am interesting but I have no measurable writing talent whatsoever" category
I am extremely pleased to say that An Appetite for Peas does not fall into any of those three categories!
It is a no-holds-barred look at one of South Africa's most quirky individuals. You could say that Casey B Dolan has done it all: author, acclaimed actress, stuntwoman, 5FM DJ, FHM cover girl, there are too many things to mention! This book takes an in-depth look at her rise to stardom, and the difficulties that she faced along the way. You will be taken on an emotional roller coaster ride (just without the throwing up and screaming) that will leave you breathless. I recently mentioned to Casey that she should have added a disclaimer to the cover; "Warning: Reading this book will lead to sleep deprivation". Once I started reading it I could not put it down! I kept thinking to myself "Just one more chapter!" until the wee hours of the morning. It was absolutely captivating! Written with a liberal blend of Casey's trademark wit and brutal honesty, it will keep you riveted! "But what about the peas?" you ask. Well, as it says on the back of the book, if you want to know about the peas you should just go ahead and read it!

Tuesday 11 August 2015

Heading for the Hills

I recently decided to take a break and head for the picturesque vacation town of Clarens for a long weekend. A friend went with me and we hit the road at 16:00 the Friday afternoon. It's about a 3 to 3 and a half hour drive there, so plenty of time to get there to collect the keys for the townhouse in which we would be staying. We had to collect the keys at a local restaurant before 10, when the restaurant closes. Not a problem, plenty of time. What could possibly go wrong?
All was going well until we hit Johannesburg, where we got stuck in heavy afternoon traffic. And seeing as it was a long weekend, something that inspires people everywhere to get in their cars and go somewhere scenic, there was more traffic than usual. In fact, it took us two hours just to get through Johannesburg. After that the road quietened down slightly (but only slightly) and we could get moving again. At about 19:00, still nowhere near our destination, we decided to pull over at a petrol station for some dinner. Sounds simple enough. But no, the cars were queuing at the rate of 4 cars per pump for petrol, and the parking lot was completely full. So I did what any self-respecting BMW owner would do, and parked illegally. Thankfully I parked in a parking space reserved for a shop that was closed, so no-one minded. And oddly enough, as soon as I did, so did everyone else, who were apparently just waiting for that first brave soul to take the risk. Inside the petrol station it was absolute chaos! People were queuing out the door to buy snacks, so we decided to sit down at the restaurant (which was oddly empty) rather than risk dying from boredom in a queue. And once again, the moment we sat down, everyone else thought "What a good idea!" and soon the tables were full. After a thankfully quick meal we hit the road again and made some good time. We turned off at a small town called Warden which (at night) sort of resembled any run-down ghost town filled with zombies, gangsters and the occasional ghost. In short, not a place to linger if you wanted to stay in possession of your car and/or wallet. After getting slightly lost we managed to find the right road and were soon zooming along. At Bethlehem (no, not that one, the one in the Free State) we filled up our car with petrol and arrived at our destination about 25 minutes later. We got to the restaurant 20 minutes before they closed and managed to collect our keys and swallow down a celebratory glass of gluhwein. Which, seeing as they got the spice/citrus ratio wrong, tasted rather hair raising. But, we didn't care. We were there! And just in time too!
The following morning the rising sun revealed the glorious view of the Clarens mountains. It was magnificent! But something was bothering us. Something that we couldn't quite put our fingers on. Then it dawned on us. It was quiet! Not a bird or a car or a single human voice could be heard. The silence was so thick you could wrap yourself in it and cuddle it gently. It was absolutely amazing!

I am sad to say that the weekend went past way too quickly, and all too soon we had to hit the road back to Pretoria. Thankfully this time it took us 4 hours instead of 6. After dropping my friend off I arrived home and, after unpacking, clambered into bed. And realised immediately that I was back in a major city, with barking dogs, revving engines and screaming sirens. I was almost tempted to just pack up and drive back to Clarens again! They say that all good things must come to an end, but I wish that this end could have stayed away a bit longer.....