Saturday, April 18, 2009

Hi, i'm jozeygirl and i'm OCD


I have a problem.

I think I’m a little OCD.

Why do I think this?

1. Two pairs running shoes… I don’t run
2. four pairs open toe heels
3. four pairs closed semi formals
4. three pairs flip flops
5. four pairs casual slip ons
6. four pairs “crocs”
7. two pairs boots
8. four winter hats
9. three pairs gloves
10. five scarves… south Africa really doesn’t get that cold
11. seven pairs of blue jeans
12. fifteen hand bags
13. eleven bibles
14. four black eye liners
15. three bottles of perfume
16. three pairs of sunglasses

Just to name a few.

I can’t stop myself; I can’t just buy one of a thing. I know, it’s crazy.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

growing old disgracefully


I have decided, if I’m going down I’ll be doing it kicking and screaming. Not without a fight. And I’m taking down who ever I can with me…

What am I talking about? Growing old. Gracefully, I think not. Some how I let slip my teens, early twenties, mid twenties and late twenties. So I’ve decided, I am going to throw myself to the floor and put up the biggest tantrum you have ever seen. There was so much I’ve wanted to do by the time I turned 30, and somehow most of it I didn’t.

I’m not even talking about the whole married with children stuff; I’ve only left the country once, to visit Mozambique for two weeks. I still live at home, don’t own my own car and earn peanuts. I have no social life and I find myself rather wanting to watch Friday night movies on satellite then go out. And most of the time I’m content with it. Week nights I’m in bed by ten… alone… and I just purchased my first pair of reading glasses. Luckily grey hasn’t set in yet, but a few years back I found my first rankle, but since, it’s gone missing.

So roll on the tantrum. I only have one tattoo, even though I worked in the music industry for about 5 years I still haven’t slept with a drummer, let alone do anything else. Sorry Momzy.

What I did do in the past decade though is, did a gap year and did missionary work, moved to Sun City, the equivalent of Las Vegas, lived with a bunch of lifeguards for six months. Became a groupie, worked in a music shop, moved back home, moved out and had one wild summer, moved back home, moved to the big city, became a waitress, met a bunch of interesting people, got introduced to the clubbing scene, drank a lot, became a stripper…groupie, my friends and I would go to a strip show every Thursday night… tried some kind of mood enhancing drug, one night only, nothing happened, didn’t think the quarter of the quarter they gave me was potent enough. Decided I hate dance music. Got a job at another music shop, got to meet a bunch of famous muso’s, became a groupie. Became friends with a local band and now they’re one of the biggest in SA. Became a bandaid, the difference between a bandaid and a groupie is, a groupie is in it for the members and perks, a bandaid is in it for the music. Ditched work to go to a music festival, got a tattoo, moved back home, became a nursery school teacher, managed a restaurant, did the events for the restaurant. Worked at a security company, hated every minute of it, and now I make food for a living, hadn’t had a drink in 4 months and am a youth leader at my church, now I organize events for the youth. I have my level two in first aid, have a youth workers diploma. I’m busy studying events management and doing a pastoral course at the church.

I guess my twenties wasn’t that boring, just wish I accomplished more, like being financially independent, having my own business earning 100k a year, have my own car, a handsome husband, double story house with pool and spa, two wonderful kids and hidi Klum’s body…

So what can be expected of the 30’s?

Thursday, April 9, 2009

my intervew

-jozey, lisa, cas-

1. You get to have dinner with your favourite celebrity - who would it be and why?

Wentworth miller- have you seen prison break? Need I say more?

2. What was your proudest moment?

I was dyslectic when I was younger, I had to attend special classes but in a way I’ve over come that, one of my hobbies are to write short stories and obviously blogging. After 11 years I’ve decided to study again.

3. What is your most favourite memory?

St 9. there was this new guy in school, all the girls were going on about him, I didn’t know anything about him but as I was leaving for class he asked me to show him the way, it turned out we had all the same classes but one, so we ended up becoming great friends. I wasn’t the prettiest or most popular girl at school but that didn’t matter, he didn’t care for those girls to much any way. We were only friends for about 11 months but we were the greatest. At the end of that year he moved and for 12 years we didn’t have any contact, then he found me.

4. You get to be anybody else for one day - who would you be and what would you do?

A Michelin star chef with my own cooking show co- presented by Jamie Oliver, Gordon Ramsey, Heston Blumenthal or Curtis Stone. That or Sarah Tancredy, Wentworth Miller’s love interest in Prison Break.

5. What is your single most treasured possession (excluding loved ones and friends)?

I would like to say my virginity, but, I lived in Sun City for 6 months when I turned 21 so I’m sorry to say my sell phone. And my sense of Humor, and my wisdom… yeah, that last one is a little hard to swallow

If you would like to be interviewed by me, leave me a note in the comment section. After a day or two, I will send you five questions. Once you have answered these questions, you are welcome to interview others on your blog.

1. Leave me a comment saying: "Interview me".
2. I will respond by E-Mailing you five questions. (I get to pick the questions).
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

eating out


So, tonight it was my cooking turn again. And on the menu, lasagne… lasagne mate to be precise. Lasagne mate is lasagne in a box. I am ashamed to admit it, I think if Gordon Ramsey got to hear about this, he’d come after me with his chefs knife. He’s my hero you know, well, one of them anyway. I love cooking and love trying out new things, and lasagne mate is new to me. In our house hold the only instant is instant coffee.

The thing about growing up in a house with a father as a chef is that you learn to cook at a very young age. I remember as children Momzy would phone from work and tell us to start dinner. She only packed our school lunch in primary school. Once we turned 13 we had to fend for our selves. Sometimes begging would help… begging her to make out lunch, that is. I pretend I‘m presenting my own cooking show when I prepare dinner.

So back to the lasagne… a couple of posts back I wrote about the disaster’s Mexican evening. The served lasagne for dinner… with cauliflower, carrots and green beans in. The chef and momzy’s looked like Sheppard’s pie. I wish someone would have told them about this miracle in a box. I’ll definitely try it again.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

hopeless romantic me


I’m a hopeless romantic. It’s actually sickening. I get all mushy and teary eyed at the end of romantic movies, even just semi romantic movies. I’ve even been known to get all misty over some ads. I don’t think it’s healthy. It’s made me a little delusional. I keep waiting for the romantic, guy sweeps you of your feet, takes you in his arms and passionately kiss you as the scene fades away with the last notes of baby I love your way by Big Mountain plays in the background, to happen.

All time favourite top 5 romantic movies… Love Actually, Moulin Rouge, Romeo and Juliet, the Notebook, Bridget Jones diary… and then a very unconventional movie but a really great tragic love story… Brokeback Mountain. I know its about two men falling in love and all, but its still two people feeling so passionately about each other but society keeps them apart… kinda like a gay Romeo and Juliet.

So I’m 30 and single and still waiting for that rugged manly man to come riding in on his steed and whisk me away, or the Greek/ Italian, well, Mediterranean bronzed god with his rock hard glisten body emerging from the waves to take me in is arms on a deserted beach and…(Momzy might be reading), or that guy you love to hate that works in the same store/ restaurant… that one night after closing you accidently get locked in with and both realise that all the time its been the strong attraction to each other that made you dislike each other intensely. Or the handsome sophisticated new marketing manager with the wit and charm that you know you never stand a chance of having, whom to your delightful surprise starts sending you very flirtatious IM’s and so the start of a budding office romance or the sweet shy ex con who only went to jail to get his brother out… to much?

But unfortunately I live in a small town with my parents and work with a bunch of women. And the available (note I don’t even care about age any more) ones are getting less by the hour. I live hundreds of miles away from the nearest beach and the only Greeks in town are the ones that own the greasy cafĂ© down town, my marketing manager is married and not a very pleasant person, besides, don’t work on a computer at work. So maybe the rugged manly man on horse back and hopeful not Brokeback.

I just wish I could meet someone that is actually attainable. There is this guy at church though, since the moment I first laid eyes on him I knew there was something there, and I was getting these signals from him. Then to his shock and my horror he learnt that I was 10 years older then him… yes you read correctly, so when you’re done swallowing your tongue and regain consciousness… I’m 10 years older then him, now were a little more like very good friends then anything else, but I see the way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not watching and the little things he says and does… or maybe its just me and my wild imagination… plus his dating my friend and he studies far from here so I don’t really get to see him much.

I’ve always liked younger guys. First kiss, 3 years younger, first boyfriend, 4 years younger, last guy 5 years younger. Call me Mrs. Robinson. I think it’s the innocence linked to younger guys or maybe the fear of feeling old or maybe I secretly know it will never happen so I won’t have to worry about getting hurt… that last one actually sucks, cause I always get a little hurt. Whether it’s because I get my heart broken or realise how hopeless it all is, I still end up with a bruised heart.

so what ever it may be, i'm still waiting, and hoping, and wishing, and praying... as the song says... for mr right, cause mr right now, just won't cut it.