ALONE - BUT NOT LONELY!

FYI people, if you're watching 'Dinner For One' this Old Years Eve, don't for a second imagine that this is me! in fact it's YOU because i won't be watching. i'll be on the jol with Greg.

when, and IF i ever reach 110 however, i STILL won't be like this little old lady and her ever increasingly drunk butler. by then i have total confidence that a new drug would've been created and i would have a deep dish of THAT in front of me.

it always strikes me like an axe between my shoulder-blades when it dawns on me that people think that just because i'm single and i live alone, i must therefore be a sad and lonely girl who no-one wants to spend time with!

comments like, "shame Sand, one day you'll find someone who'll love you for you, the same way WE do" - Derek.

or, "my wish for you is that you'll finally settle down with a guy who knows how to treat you properly" - Gary.

hasn't it dawned on everyone yet that not only do i CHOOSE to live this way, but that i DESERVE to live this way?

i mean, gimme a break. i have had men coming and going in and out of my life for like, ALL OF MY ADULT YEARS, like unfit gym goers moving through the super-circuit, and i have almost ALWAYS made the mistake of living with them.

what usually, no, what ALWAYS happens is i get bored. and then i progress from being mildly irritated, slice through all the other layers like a razor through an oesophagus, into acting just plain rude. and rude is not my preferred choice of behavior - as difficult as it may be to believe, because i EXCEL at it with such radiance. i think the reason for my talent in the rudeness-department was formed out of PRACTICE from people pouncing on my freedom and trying to SQUEEZE it into extinction. it's certainly not genetic. is it dad...

but trying to destroy my freedom is like trying to squash a balloon filled with water: it'll just pop through your fingers, still full. the tighter you grip, the bigger the bubble through your fingers will be. open your hand and there it will sit, perfectly orb-shaped and calm. why can't men understand this? surely they would want to be treated with as little pressure as i do? if so, why can't they follow the 'do unto other's' principal? but i've given up trying to solve that puzzle since the day i discovered crosswords. i like crosswords way better. they always work out.

it remains true for me that the only two people that should spend 24/7 in each others company are Siamese Twins. i mean, how am i ever supposed to miss you if you won't go away?!

i think it was Katherine Hepburn who said, "separate bedrooms, separate bathrooms. then your [relationship] has a fighting chance". i think she should've extended the perimeter by a few kilometers. and maybe even THEN i'm being too conservative.

isn't it far easier to tell someone to go home when they have a home to go TO? or even to experience the liberty of being able to say, "i'm going home. speak to you in the morning"?

and yes, sex is great. no hang on sex is great when it's done with the right PERSON. but does that come stapled to a deed entitling that person to key-privileges for my apartment and an overarching say on on how i am to conduct my life from that point moving forward? since when did sex spell obligation and commitment? in fact the very sound of those two words instills a feeling in me that makes me want to do the EXACT OPPOSITE. even if i don't WANT to. and i realise i'm spiting MYSELF. but, behave like you have some unwritten permission to administer control over my life and i will do something SO FAR REMOVED from what it is that you would preferred to have had me done that i will risk my LIFE in a display of DEFIANCE. "if you don't secure that parachute Sandy it's a sign that you don't love me". oh REEEEALLY?! [unbuckles parachute and jumps]

so, if you want to love me to death, then start thinking of ways for me to express my love for you. if you leave it up to ME however, i will love you in ways that Shakespeare could only have WISHED he could've imagined. right up until the time when boredom sets in! otherwise, please leave me to enjoy my well-earned alone-ness.

and STOP THAT THOUGHT RIGHT THERE you MARRIED/RELATIONSHIP/INVOLVED-TYPE PEOPLE! i said ALONE-ness! that is NOT the same as LONELINESS with an 'A' in front!

BLIND DATES MAKE YOU WISH YOU WERE JUST THAT.

DEAF would've been appreciated as WELL last night when the crowd from the tattoo shop set me up with a guy that they thought was 'really me'.

over the phone my shit-detector was already bleeping it's 'NO FUN' alarm. that's because he wasn't catching any of my standard "Sandy-type" ironic remarks and batting the ball back to me with a smarter comment. that could only have meant one thing, he wasn't as smart as me. and if that was the case he'd REALLY be no fun because that's like, two-thirds of what i LIKE in a person. the other third is composed of sexiness and hotness of course. to fill up the skin depth level.

so i decided i'd lose him before i even found him and, as the spiteful side of the Universe would have it, he called me while i was standing in Nina Roche purchasing my infamous gladiator sandals. it would take a strong man to have dealt with this sentence, i thought, so i released it: "hi Chris! you won't believe where you've just found me! hang on a sec, BYE GIRLS MWAH MWAH MWAH! you're not going to BELIEVE what i've just done! do you wanna hear? no, maybe i shouldn't say...". of course he wanted to hear so i continued, "i've just bought a pair of shoes for R5600! and they ROCK! GRANITE HARD!"

if he was my kinda guy he would've retorted with something like, "so you're a deep and spiritual kinda girl. i like you already".

but his voice didn't even change gears as he moved right along and asked where i wanted to eat on Saturday night. pause. didn't he hear what i just SAID?!

"well somewhere cool of course!" i drove the attitude home, "i'm a ROCKSTAR and i've got an image to uphold oKAY?!".

now i WISH he'd said, "copy that. i'll get my people onto that right away," but he didn't. it pissed me off and i now wanted to piss HIM off to the point where he was FORCED out of cruise-control and MADE to change down into 2nd. either that or i was going to BURY him on saturday night. right there in front of all his friends.

he called me in the morning to tell me that the restaurant we were going to was in OBSERVATORY, i sighed and said that was a bit beneath me, but it was for Tracey because it was her birthday and i said that she could choose. he said the place was called Babo's, i breathed an audible eye-roll and said i could only IMAGINE what the owner looked like with a name like that! he said he didn't know what kind of food they served, i said i'd heard enough and i was going to eat before i left just in case.

he SHOULD'VE said, "don't, if we hate it we'll have a drink and i'll take you for sushi," but he didn't. i hated him.

so, i armed myself in my Ed Hardy dress, strapped on my gladiators, hopped into my Death Star car. Darth Vader exited the building.

i bounced into the restaurant, arms outstretched in my hug-me pose with a HAPPY BIRTHDAAAY to Tracey, greeted everyone first then stuck out my hand and said, "you must be CHRIS, i am SANDY." i sat down next to him. okay, okaaay, he was 27 years old, athletic body, shaved head, jeans, t-shirt, trainers. and yes, i like that kinda look, but sorry, it's just not enough for me anymore.

now he SHOULD'VE said something like, "right let's get the peripheral things out the way first, can i have your autograph please?" but he didn't. instead he just sat there slack-jawed, staring at me in stunned silence. oh BOY he was gonna have to work VERY HARD from now on if he wanted to earn any respect from ME.

i informed the table that i'd already eaten just in case because 'you know how i GET when i'm hungry and there's nothing on the menu that i can eat and i start becoming TESTY with waiters and management'.

he SHOULD'VE said, "cute, sweet AND easy-going! my kinda GIRL!". buuut, you guessed it, he didn't.

i entertained everyone at the table, including him, showing them my shoes and telling them crazy stories. the one about my dad's crashed Ferrari was top of mind because i'd just written about it so launched with that one. which a even a recently saved SUPER-HOLY reborn CHRISTIAN would find funny, but he only managed to crack a half-smile and sputter a 'he-he'. sorry, in retrospect i think he only managed one 'he'.

i looked at the menu. i turned to him and spoke as if he and i were on the same side, "shew i'm glad i ate. how's this menu?!".

he SHOULD'VE said, "calm down, i told you, sushi, right side of the mountain, can you sit still for half an hour?". instead he said, "why? what do you eat?".

i eye-rolled and recited my diet like i was talking to a small child, "weeell, fish, chicken, steamed, grilled, salad. c'mon you know the story". and i abruptly turned to talk to Paul, to whom i had nothing to say, so i pulled something out of my random-thought stash, which made it easy for me to listen to what he said to Tracey when she told him that she was wheat-intolerant.

he said, "well iiiii think people force themSELVES into food intolerances because they exclude certain food groups from their DIET and..."

that was it! i unholstered my gun, spun around, pointing my finger in his face and said to Tracey, "THAT'S right! what HE just said! and i think it's FANTASTIC! i've forced myself to become intolerant to sugar, fat, dairy, wheat, fried, baked, high calorie fucking EVERYthing and i'm SO much better FOR it!".

i threw myself back into Paul's face PRAYING for something like, "and clearly your self-induced food intolerances have rubbed off an your attitude as WELL." but nothing! he'd arrived totally unarmed! i couldn't believe it! i felt a bit like a playground bully for a split second, but then i thought 'naaa, this guy must man up or it's man DOWN buddy'.

as luck would have it, the service really sucked badly so Rael suggested we move down the road for sushi. we transferred ourselves and now i made sure i was sitting DIRECTLY OPPOSITE him, so i could LOOK HIM IN THE EYE and REVEL in the expression on his face as he took his last dying breaths, like a vampire with blood streaming down my face, teeth still attached to neck. amazing how a face can morph into something COMPLETELY DIFFERENT when you detect a character weakness. i would love to have done a character ASSASSINATION and God help me i was TRYING but there was no character there to assassinate! it was like trying to shoot a ghost.

"so, what sport do you do?". i gave it another stab.

"oh all sports," he said, "i used to do gym but i believe that inner-core strength is more important than impressive muscular development. you've got to work from the INSIDE, out.".

"oh REALLY," i said, vampire fangs extending over my bottom lip, "pity you can't SEE your impressive inner-core muscle then ISN'T it?".

"well i have come to the realisation that your body should not be viewed visually but rather as graceful movement through space." huh?! was this guy for real or did i forget to take my pills?!

"what sport do you ACTUALLY DO Chris?" c'mon, it's 'define yourself' time, let's hear it.

"Yoga and Pilates." [insert Psycho shower-scene shrieking noise here] "and you could repair your back injury if you worked on your posture." okaaay, THAT was enough. i think that was MORE than sufficient reason to haul out the A.K.

"oh really." i reloaded, "well i ALSO do yoga FYI. the most extreme kind. Ashtanga. try yoga THIS with your impressive invisible core BUDDY BOY: move from Mountain pose into Down-Dog, then jump straight through into sitting without going through Chatterangadandnsan and Up-Dog first!". yes, i knew my shit.

all eyes descended upon him. now, put your head between your knees with your oxygen mask secured tightly around your face and prepare yourself for impact, because THIS is what he did next: he took off his shoes and, right there in front of a packed sushi bar he ATTEMPTED the extreme move i'd just explained! yes, you can cough your epiglottis back up and spit it out into a tissue now. THAT is what he did.

and you know what iii did? i got up and drill sergeanted him, "i SAID, straight through to sitting! no Chatteranga or Up-Dog FIRST!".

Rael instructed him to sit down and i was happy. my work here was done. there was no more to see here people, go back into your homes and leave the Personality Police to clean up.

that was actually totally unnecessary of me. what this boy REALLY needed was to be locked away in a cell where the only thing to inhale was cocaine, the only liquid to drink was Jack Daniels, the only company was a muscular nymphomaniac whore who didn't speak english, and there was only space to do ONE KIND of sport and that was SEX!

a couple of years of THAT would bring him around. and give us something to talk about. only THIS time it would be from MY perspective - and that would be from the OUTSIDE working IN.

is THIS as good as it gets...

in the movie "As Good As It Gets", Jack Nicholson insults Helen Hunt, ON THEIR FIRST DATE, by asking why he had to go and buy a blazer to eat in the expensive restaurant he had taken her to, while she could sit there in a 'house-dress', which happened to be the most beautiful dress she owned. she, deeply hurt, stormed off leaving him alone at the bar. sitting there, confounded as to what she was so upset about, he turned to the barman for some sage words of advice and insulted HIM by saying: "hey you! yes you," the barman begrudgingly came over, "what do you make of this? UGH, look at me, i must be really desperate asking advice from YOU, a man peddling the world's last legal drug..."

Jack obviously didn't have any luck with him EITHER. but what he was saying was the truth.

alcohol IS a drug. and it's legal. and THAT'S the problem.

i've weaved my way around alot of substances - legal and illegal - for the most part of my adult life. so i think i've earned my colors-blazer and prefects badge in that department. hang on what am i saying, i was HEAD GIRL i'm SANDY GREEN for heavens' sake!

but i'm not an addict.

i am an extremist. an extremist is a person who leaps from one MAJOR fixation, takes it to the ULTIMATE, MAXIMUM of MAX'S, only to get BORED and move swiftly along to something else.

of course this type of behavior isn't exactly exemplary girl-guide stuff in ITSELF but i honestly can say that i do not know what it feels like to have ONE UGLY THING sitting on your shoulders and talking shit into your ears for like, YOUR WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE.

but, while doing the practical for my degree in the Chemistry (BSc.Jol) - in which i can proudly say i have received my honorary doctorate, one chemical has always seemed to leap off the Periodic Table Of Elements chart at my eyes waaaay more powerfully than ALL the rest.

that chemical is alcohol.

more deaths, more suicides, more broken relationships, more trauma, more health issues - physical and mental - more struggling and thrashing and programs and rehabs and hospitals, and sadness and depression and heartbreak and loneliness have been caused by THIS DRUG than anything else that i have ever witnessed in all my living memory.

why is this so? i'll tell you EXACTLY why this so.

alcohol, unlike ANY OTHER DRUG is not only socially acceptable, it is socially ENFORCED. EVERYBODY drinks. EVERYBODY wants YOU to drink WITH THEM. and if you DON'T then you're an ASSHOLE-BORING-LOSER-NERD. and YOU are made to FEEL like one.

appalling isn't it? look, it's easy easy for me to talk because i got bored with alcohol YEARS ago, but i'm GLAD it's easy for me to talk because hey, i KNOW WHAT THE HELL I'M TALKING ABOUT! picture this: we're all out at Xmas lunch and everybody raises their glass of their favorite alcoholic beverage to toast and i, Sandy Green, whip out a gram of COKE, cling cling their glasses with my rolled up R100 note and proceed to chop a line and blast it off the table. c'mon. close your eyes and imagine that. what would everybody do? i'm not actually sure MYSELF but one thing's for certain, MY name will be scratched off THEIR party list. in PERMANENT MARKER.

now, take the IDENTICAL SITUATION: everybody's toasting their glasses at the SAME party and i raise my glass of DIET COKE. i'm telling you guys as sure as Father Xmas is a white man i'll be deleted from that SAME LIST with the SAME big black marker.

don't ask me why this is, because i don't know, but what i DO know is that THIS is the reason why alcohol sits at the TOP OF THE LIST as the World's Most Dangerous Drug.

i can safely say i'll never drink again, not because of the scariness of it, it's just that right now i prefer a six-pack of abs as opposed to a six-pack of beer.

and i don't have any answers on how to break Dark Lord Alcohol's thick, seemingly indestructible muscular spine and bury him either. i've seen too many strong-minded, brilliant people WAAAAY out of MY league try and try and lose in the end.

but what i DO know unequivocably, undeniably and without QUESTION is that this drug is HERE, it is DAMAGING and it's NEVER going to leave.

and people that are its slave will, likewise, ALWAYS be here, will DEFINITELY get damaged, and will most likely NEVER change.

and that is why i don't give two shits when people denigrate me for staying sober. all it takes is one look at their helpless, unglamorous, bent-out-of-shape faces and i find it EASY to turn my back and extend my right middle finger for their pitiful contemplation.

go ahead, have another drink guys, i'm off to the gym.

CAN WE FORGET ABOUT THE THINGS I SAID WHEN I WAS DRUNK...

well my mom says NO!

my mother - and anyone who knows her will back me up on this - has never had a drink in her whole entire life!

yet she has been married to my father for 42 years, and therefore, for at least two-thirds of that time she's been married to a bunch of racing drivers, their pit crew and mechanics.

my memory bank is SO LOADED with memories of my dad arriving home at four in the morning to a hysterically worried wife and three petrified children i don't know which one to haul out first.

but this one definitely springs to mind:

my dad had ordered a Silver Daytona Ferrari from the factory in Modena and was eagerly awaiting it's arrival, along with all of his friends. they had gathered together after race day at my father's workshops to have a drink in my father's bar. he'd called it 'The Babalooey Inn' for some mystifying reason. actually, maybe not so mystifying now that i think about it. 'Babalooey' was probably some DRUNK code-word they chanted out when they were DRUNK which meant that they were having a DRUNKEN good time. that sounds about right.

anyway, back at home it was getting later and later and my mom was getting more and more ENRAGED and us three were getting more and more TERRIFIED, not only for the safety of my dad arriving home in one piece, but for for his safety from MY MOM who was threatening to pull him apart if he DID!

finally the doorbell rang. he was home. this was IT. the moment of truth. my mom swung our old wooden front door open SO HARD the hinges held on for their lives.

there he stood. with the most sheepish look on his face i had ever seen. but a look i'd come to know well through the course of my life.

he broke the wall of silence with these words: "gulp. i crashed my Ferrari."

whattheHECK kinda LAME excuse was THAT he hadn't DRIVEN IT YET for heavens' sake! but he had. he'd driven it like THREE METERS across the road into an innocent, sleeping person's solid brick wall which had descended upon his bonnet! very funny. in retrospect i'm sure he must've said something like 'one day we'll look back on this and laugh', because i am, right now!

what my mother could NOT handle however, was not so much the drinking and crashed sports cars, it was the use of the tired old line 'i don't remember saying that. I WAS DRUNK'.

because the fact that he could remember all the things that SHE'D said to HIM blew his cover. AND he would act all HURT about it for a couple of days!

what is MY opinion on this mom wants to know. weeeell it's a very interesting topic because i kind of know the answer having been there many many MANY MANY times MYSELF. so here it is: yes you DO remember the things you said when you were drunk, but you wish you DIDN'T because they are things you would NEVER have said when you were sober. why wouldn't you have said them when you were sober? because you didn't have the BALLS to. THAT'S WHY! and your carefully guarded meticulously self-created image would shatter to the floor beneath your feet in an INSTANT, ruining your Nina Roche shoes (the truth hurts) if you came blurting out with emotions you REALLY felt and opinions you REALLY held. then you're wondering stuff the next day like, 'did i REALLY tell Mark he was an insufferable know-it -all who acted far more like the obnoxious Jew that he WAS than he'd like to THINK. oh shit did i say that?! i DID. HOW on GOD'S GREEN EARTH am i going to do damage control with a volley of home-truths like THAT?!' - face screws up like i've just got lemon juice into my eye.

the thing is Mark DOES act like that. and i've sucked up his arrogant Jew-behavior for YEARS because i love him very much. it still irritates me now, twenty years down the line, with the same intensity as day ONE, however telling him's not going to change his personality. but it's OUT THERE NOW! and, as much as i'd love to inhale really REALLY deep and suck those words back IN, i can't.

FYI i never said this to Mark, but i wish i COULD. Goddamit! no, cancel that quadruple vodka and Diet Sprite imaginary waiter in my dream. one day he'll push me far enough and i'll come out with it. SOBER.

so there you have it ma. and don't feel bad about the things you said back to dad when he was drunk. because he KNOWS they're true. all he needed was time to go into his workshop, take the broken pieces of the image of the Great Basil Green, do a bit of welding here and a bit of taping there, get the 'A.O.K' from his mates and he was back to battle-fit in no time.

my dad. today he acts like it was a different human being from another WORLD starring in those stories. but he remembers. a drunk person always does.

SANDY'S XMAS GESTURE TO THE HANDICAPPED.

as able-bodied people we often take our bodies for granted. and it's at times like this that i think we should all take a moment and stop to think of those less fortunate than us. take for example those among us that were born without a spine!

can you IMAGINE such a thing?! can you picture the effect that such an affliction must have on your self-esteem? and the possibility of your ability to be able to sustain a close relationship must lie somewhere between zero and 0.1 on a scale of 0 to FOREVER. wow, we truely don't know how lucky we are.

why i've decided to focus on this unfortunate condition this year, is because it has become apparent to me that some of my friends have suffered with this horrendous ailment for their ENTIRE LIVES and have managed to hide it from me for THE WHOLE TIME! yes. it's true. the amount of BULL-SHIT they must've had to have spun to divert my attention from a defect like THAT must've been mind-blowing! kudos guys, you had me.

i'm telling you people i've seen these guys with their SHIRTS OFF! i've rubbed oil on their SHOULDERS for heavens' sake! but i was probably enjoying their company too much at the time to notice.

it all fell into place however, when the pressure of being around me obviously became just TOO MUCH to bare. they could handle the stress no longer and they chose to scurry off into the interior of themselves and hide instead of just telling me. but, i guess, how do you break it to someone you've known for years that you were BORN WITHOUT A SPINE?!

guys, my thoughts are with you and i'd like to say i feel your pain, but how can i even BEGIN TO IMAGINE living inside your poor tortured minds?! in fact, i'd rather hold a football sized dollop of sorbet in my mouth because the effect will be the same on my brain.

in sympathy however, and with technology spiralling upward the way it is today, i have every confidence that the first successful spinal-transplant is just around the corner, and i have taken the liberty of putting your names down FIRST on the donor list!

don't thank me, i love you guys, and i just want you to get better soon so you can live normally like the rest of us and enjoy the same quality of life that we so take for granted.

my thoughts are with you this festive season, hang in there and try and make the most of it.

KEEP YOUR HAIR WHERE IT BELONGS. ON YOUR HEAD.

CHAETOPHOBIA; TRICHPATHOPHOBIA; TRICOPHOBIA; and HYPERTRICHOPHOBIA. there you have it. i'm FINE. F. Y. frikkin I! my phobia of hair is NOT a delusional psychosis. it's a CONDITION. oKAAAY?!

Carrie has a phobia about birds - what's so revoltingly disgusting about THEM? Bryan passes out at the sight of a tiny little needle - but he'll put a massive aircraft in the sky thousands of meters above the earth. mom has a fear of flying - but loves birds. we almost ALL have a problem with spiders - but right there we can SEE the problem. i still cannot wrap my head around how something THAT UGLY could've slipped it's way through the evolutionary cycle unnoticed. maybe the Universe turned a blind eye because if it had have stared too long it would've fled in horror and it had BIGGER things on it's plate at the time.

honestly! spiders should've been eliminated by evolution AEONS ago due to reasons of extreme GROSSNESS.

spiders are covered in hair (gross) - so you can see the parallel. take away the (gross) body and what do have left? a pile of (gross) HAIR! the entire (gross) article is just TOO MUCH to ingest in one eye-full. unless you wanted to scorch the back of your optical nerve for some or other reason. that's why you've got to break it down into parts. starting with the least offensive part - the hair. and stow the rest of it FAR AWAY in a locked, air-tight vault in the DEEPEST RECESS of your memory bank NEVER TO BE SEEN AGAIN!

(shudder) you must see me now. taking a quick survey of my floor to see that there's nothing of that ilk lurking around. if there was?! what would i do?! i'd call the police! that's what i'd do! i wonder how THEY'D handle a situation like that? they'd probably call in the armed forces. and who could blame them?!

i can't feel my legs. i think i might've incurred a minor STROKE sitting here covering this (GROSS) topic.

and DO NOT feed me the 'they're more scared of YOU than you are of THEM' line. because if that were true there would be a mental hospital full of spiders suffering from psychotic melt-downs, and there ISN'T. they just sit there and laugh while you climb the banister WITH YOU FINGERNAILS in mortal TERROR and say in spider-talk, "that's right little girl, get a loada ME!"

so there you have it. my fear of hair actually stems from the much BROADER issue of Arachnaphobia. which is common to like, 99.9999% of the population! mine has merely been reduced down to HAIR because split into parts it's more manageable.

now when you enter my apartment, notice the pale coloration of my environment and KNOW that every hair that falls from your head onto ANY surface will be NOTICED, PICKED UP and thrown in the TOILET - where it BELONGS - by ME!

so wash, brush, gel your hair to your scalp, do whatever it takes, but show some consideration if you come to visit me. and don't stay TOO long because it's a common fact that we all shed like A THOUSAND HAIRS A DAY!

an hour then. MAX. then you and your hair are OUTA HERE!

(spine-crawl) gross...

MUSIC - THE PULSE OF THE UNIVERSE.

stop! here's the picture! THAT'S what it looks like! i think... MUSIC - the sound of the breath of the Universe! it cannot be touched, seen, explained, rationalised. but it CAN be FELT. coursing though our veins. like seratonin, dopamine, adrenhilin, and in my case, lithium.

that's right. music is the brain chemical mix of the Cosmos!

music is conclusive evidence of things not seen, the proof of another dimension that is above and yet inextricably bound to us and our world.

music binds our life experience together. like a soundtrack to the film of YOU.

as Greg and i sat drinking coffee together on this awesome summers day, azure-blue ocean extending out before us, fearsome mountain rising up behind us, we reminisced about our past and remarked on how EVEN THE BASELINE of a certain song could INSTANTLY whip together a memory, and ALL the emotions involved. like it was THEN happening NOW. in a flash! incredible.

music has the unique ability to CHANGE YOUR MIND. lazy to go to gym? slap some Aerosmith onto your iPod and you'll find yourself changing into your gym kit faster than Superman in a phone booth. feel demotivated? Mozart - Carmina Burana. sense of humour failure? Puddle of Mudd - She Fucking Hates Me. down? Radiohead - Creep. 4.30 in the morning chatting to Jonathan? Timberland and One Republic - Apologise.

i'm telling you guys, there isn't a situation in existence that music cannot provide the anthem for.

and musicians get a bad rep for their deviant lifestyles! can you imagine if the force of the CHORUS OF THE UNIVERSE came rushing through YOUR senses amplified to the power of a MILLION. sheesh i'd also turn to drugs, alcohol and meaningless sex to try DROWN IT OUT just to escape and have a moments peace! take the money and blow it guys, you deserve it! i wouldn't want YOUR job for all the salt in the sea.

today i was listening to Radiohead. i couldn't eat my lunch i was so blown away by that song 'Creep'! i eventually had to put down my knife and fork and go Google the lyrics or i think my skin might've crawled right off my flesh for all the goosebumps that were rushing up and down my body! and i need my skin so Bryan and i can hit the beach tomorrow...

go listen to that song. you'll see why U2, among other great bands, felt the need to cover it. it speaks across the bridge between ALL people. i think it would make even OSAMA BIN LADEN burst into a fit of tears of emotion and dash for the replay button.

picure a world without music - Rocky running up the Philidelphia Art Museum steps in silence. sports teams SPEAKING their country's anthem before a match. fashion models working the catwalk to the 'click click' of their Jimmy Choos.

HOWEVER, i could be turned against DEPECHE MODE if i was forced to listen to them while i waited for Discovery to answer my call when i'm number 375 in their queuing system. please don't do that...

"Life without music doesn't make sense." i think that's how Nietzsche phrased it. and if he DIDN'T he SHOULD'VE! because a world without music is like a cake without flour - it'll collapse into an amorphous puddle of deconstructed ooze. and who in their sane mind would want to hang out in a swampland like THAT?!

can you imagine if the cosmic sound system shorted out and all the music suddenly fell silent?! i think the Universe would have about SEVEN MINUTES to live. and how do we defribulate an invisible heart anyway?

so pump up the volume! let the music play. buy it, download it, rip it off your mates' iTunes, whatever way you can, blast it through your iPod, through the speakers in your car, your TV, your computer. or sing it! no matter how bad you sound, it's better than nothing! and just think, every time you give music a chance, you are tuning in to the POWER OF THE UNIVERSE. and THAT is like taking STEROIDS for your SOUL!

i'm going to listen to Creep one more time before i go to bed. okay maybe twice...

TWO WORDS THAT COUNTERBALANCE "TRUST ME!"...

and those two words are "NINA" and "ROCHE"! yes i GOT THEM!

and yes, i can read your thoughts, 'she's never going to wear them', but the girls in the shop apprehended that kind of silly behaviour from me, THREW my Havaianas into a bag and FORCED me to walk out in them! yes, i admit it, i DID feel sorry for them. but now the ice is SHATTERED and me and my Giuseppe Zanotti Gladiator sandals can resume the giddy love affair we started ALL THOSE MONTHS AGO in Hyde Park Corner!

they sure know how to treat me right. i mean, they PURSUED me! they hunted me down! they wouldn't let me go! and THAT made me feel SO special that i FINALLY gave in and let them HAVE me. it would take a girl with a heart of GRANITE not to CAVE LIKE A HOUSE OF CARDS if she's shown THAT kind of determination! yes, i KNOW you know what they cost, and i KNOW you all think i'm having a delusional psychotic episode, but i'm not. it's LOVE okaaay?! it has no eyes. it's blind!

sigh, thank you Nina Roche for bringing us together. my year... no my month, oKAAAY, my WEEK is now complete!

"I'M SORRY" LOSES BY A NOSE!

in a photo-finish at the 'History Of Abused Words' Charity-Cup race meeting on saturday, I'M SORRY lost by a nose to TRUST ME. FORGIVE ME following shortly behind in 3rd place.

it was an exciting race as there was really nothing in it, all three were so evenly matched that kudos must go to ALL the owners, no-one should walk away feeling like a loser.

you know i'd like to throw in a religious quote here, or some or other sage advice from the likes of Aristotle or Plato, but i think no-one expressed it better than Madonna when she spewed out the lyrics to the song 'Sorry'. i have no idea what Guy Richie must've done to piss HER off, but i'm willing to put my Michael Stars vest through a paper shredder and bet that it was something he'd done many many MANY MANY times before!

I've heard it all before
I've heard it all before
I've heard it all before
I've heard it all before
(repeat)

I don't wanna hear, I don't wanna know
Please don't say you're sorry
I've heard it all before
And i, can take care of myself
I don't wanna hear, i don't wanna know
Please don't say 'forgive me'
I've heard it all before
And i, can't take it anymore

You're not half the man you think you are
Save your words this time you've gone too far
I've listened to your lies and all your stories
You're not half the man you'd like to be

Don't explain yourself cause talk is cheap
There's more important things than hearing you speak
Mistake me cos i made it so convenient
Don't explain yourself, you'll never see

WOW i wish i could've written that! i typed it out for you guys, but really i did it for MYSELF so that JUST FOR A MOMENT i could pretend to be a genius and get the feeling of how a brilliant mind must think when it comes up with something THAT PROFOUND and insightful.

I'M SORRY, like it close competitor TRUST ME, is something one DOES as opposed to something one SAYS. half the time the offensive act would never have taken place if the person really 'LOVED YOU' but in the event that it DID they would SEE your pain and NEVER EVER DO IT AGAIN!

it is mystifying to me why people do this, but it is even MORE confounding as to why the guy on the receiving end ACCEPTS these words as an answer! at the risk of making you think that i've lost the ability to make up my own stuff, that line 'shame on you if you fooled me once, shame on ME if you fooled me twice' is frikkin hard to beat.

as i've said before, i am a very open-hearted girl and i desperately WANT people to impress me and BE who they appear to be, giving them opportunity after opportunity to wipe the black-board filled with "i'll never believe him again, i'll never believe him again, i'll never believe him again..." CLEAN and start again from scratch.

but at some point i begin to look like a fool. to MYSELF that is. and i'm sure to everyone else AS WELL but who cares what THEY think because they've probably done the same.

when i realise that i've hit fool-level i don't dig it ONE TINY BIT because i'm SANDY GREEN - ROCKSTAR after all and i have an IMAGE to uphold in front of the world! the 'fool' look does NOT sit well together with my Ed Hardy clothes and my Nina Roche shoes!

it is AT THAT point that the shitwad who did my make-up should get the FUCK OUTA MY WAY because the "i'll never believe him again" lines are STAYING on the board and any noise emanating from the vacuous hole underneath their nose will be the same EXCRUCIATING sound of finger-nails DRAGGING THEIR WAY DOWN IT!

the next race meeting will held in honor of the loving memory of TRUTH, which so sadly departed this world decades go. your presence is sorely missed.

TRUST - IT'S NOT A FUND.

"Trust me!". the two most over-used words in the HISTORY OF, well WORDS.

trusting another person, unlike a trustFUND is EARNED and not passively received.

alot like "i love you," the most over-used THREE words in the history of words, trust is not really a concept related to words at all. trust is related to ACTIONS. all the 'Trust-Me's' in the expanding universe will NEVER have the impact of DOING what you say, BEING who you say you are, FOLLOWING THOUGH on spoken thoughts, and being CONSISTENT in your manner of behaviour toward others.

learning to trust is like learning to - ugh to use a over-ploughed metaphor here - it's like learning to ride a bike. i can't believe i just WROTE THAT but it IS an accurate analogy none the less. you know how it is. once you've gotten to KNOW the bike and gain CONFIDENCE in your relationship with the bike, only THEN can you remove the training wheels with certainty and assurance.

my mistake, well i don't know if it's been a MISTAKE so much as naivety, has been to believe everyone to be 100% good and get disappointed back into reality. unlike my dad who believes everyone to be 0% good and 100% a shit who's REALLY out there to fuck him over, and if they prove him wrong he's pleasantly surprised - but still never certain.

my dad NEVER gets disappointed. how can you get disappointed when your expectations in people are zero?

i always get disappointed.

but i'm NOT going to throw up my hands in despair. that's a part of WHO I AM. i'm a very open-hearted individual. however, i've had a shit-detector installed recently that i'm still running in. i bought it so that i can stop wasting my time on hopeless cases who are never EVER going to be deserving of my trust, and it bleeps a eardrum-rupturing warning siren inside my head when someone BEGINS displaying signs of a person who MIGHT be untrustworthy.

i'm sorry if you have been mistakenly identified as someone who might screw me over, but i've put the setting on 'HIGHLY SENSITIVE TO ABUSE OF TRUST' mode to get into it, and once i've perfected it i'll be able to turn it down.

i know what you're thinking, what if i alienate a perfectly trustworthy person in the process? well, that's a risk i'm willing to take, because i already HAVE a wealth, no a TRUSTFUND of top-of -the-trustworthy-range people in my life, so i don't have to be greedy.

THE ZZZT-FACTOR: Electro-Shock Therapy or Death By Electrocution?

"no, this trick won't work... How on earth are you ever going to explain in terms of chemistry and physics so important a biological phenomenon as [falling in] love?" - Albert Einstein.

ok if THIS man is left confounded, i'm not quite sure what light i think I'M going to shed on the matter, but hey, i'll give it a go. if there's no answer i can't be WRONG so that's a calming idea to kick off with.

years ago i labeled the intangible chemistry between two people 'the Zzzt Factor'. not the most technical term but i think it aptly describes the feeling. the illusive Zzzt Factor is a gift from the Universe and it cannot be created. and it cannot be RECREATED once it has gone. so often i've said 'if the Universe wanted to give me a gift why couldn't it have bought me a bunch of flowers?'. and i don't even like flowers. but recently my perspective has started to change on that.

men. can't live WITH 'em. CAN live without 'em. but for all the black in Africa, i swear i wouldn't WANT to.

in my article "300 BILLION YEARS TO BIO-DEGRADE", i explored the reasoning behind why white people still live in Africa, against such overwhelming odds. i concluded that it was the rush of making it through every day alive, like Maximus the Gladiator every time he survived another seemingly inescapable situation in the Colluseum, maliciously constructed to kill him by that Judas-like little shit Commodus.

falling in love is not entirely dissimilar.

i realise that Steve Tyler from Aerosmith is no Socrates, but he must know SOMETHING about life if we're all sitting with his albums, t-shirts and other paraphenalia while HE'S sitting on a yacht somewhere being served champagne by the girls from the Playboy Mansion.

it was HIM that wrote the brilliantly penetrating line: 'sweet love ain't love till you give your heart away'. that's from the song 'Crying' - in my opinion one of the GREATEST songs of all time.

go Google the lyrics. he says:

I was crying when i met you,
Now i'm trying to forget you.
Love is sweet misery.
I was crying just to get you,
Now i'm dying 'cos i met you...

go on. go read them. i think even Einstein would've applauded Steve for penning THAT song.

if falling in love is the pinnacle of life as we know it, which in my experience it IS, then it comes with a very expensive price tag - heartbreak. but it's WORTH IT! because even the most EXTREME of extreme sports does not require a FRACTION of the courage it takes to open your heart and put it on the line between life and death. and it's only THEN that you can truely feel your real self. touch the void of your soul. and it's THAT existential experience that brings you back again and again and i feel deeply SORRY for those who have closed themselves off to this uniquely bewildering avenue of life because love is the stitching that keeps the fabric of the Universe together and there's no substitute for rubbing shoulders with it. no words can accurately describe it. and it has to be LIVED OUT to be known.

not only is love coupled with pain, it is unpredictable, so you can never be prepared for what will come next because there are no real certainties. so you have to sit back and go with it. trying to control love is like trying to steer a roller-coaster - your NOT going to win, you're GOING to freak out every two seconds, you're DEFINITELY going to be scared shitless. the only thing you CAN predict is, even when it's over, you'll feel pleasantly bruised from the experience. and you're 99.9% sure to make it out alive at the end. and know that there IS an end.

so, if you're brave enough to fork out the money for the ticket, stand in line over here, secure any loose change and jewelry, people with heart conditions take your medication now, keep your seat belt fastened. the theme park takes no responsibility for any injuries incurred throughout the duration of the ride. have fun and please come again soon.

and that's all i have to offer right now. FYI, the ride is called "The Mindfuck" and you'll find it at Upside-Down World in the Land of Confusion.

P.S. the secret is to have confidence and KNOW the strength of your OWN spine. once you've gotten your head around THAT you are INDESTRUCTIBLE! you can ENJOY the Zzzt Factor without being strapped into an electric chair with a piece of wood between your teeth to bite down on.

300 BILLION YEARS TO BIODEGRADE!

that's right. 300 BILLION YEARS. that's how long it's going to take. for the Earth to digest the bio-hazardous toxic waste that's been left in the water of our public swimming pools. and when it's burped out it's final gut-wrenching wind it's going to realise that it's in urgent need of an anti-acid tablet because of the massive bleeding ulcer that would've formed in its stomach and corroded its oesophagus.

fuck! how can one race be so damaging and destructive? i admit, you'd never find a crowd of Jews behaving in this way.

let this lot loose in Iraq and see the U.S. government try and extract oil from under the ground. there would be no need for terrorism, suicide bombings, religious conflicts and all of that hoo ha. because the population ABOVE the ground would be eating everything in the barren desert alive including the sand. and when they'd vaporized THAT they would begin to consume their NEIGHBORING COUNTRIES. then they'd lick their non-collagen enhanced lips, open their mouths and cry to the people of the world to help them. of course to cover their asses by using charity as a ruse, the G8 - and every other guilt-ridden goverment - WOULD. only to find that ALL THEIR FAMINE RELIEF FUNDING went to like, only TWO PEOPLE.

why do we live in Africa? i'll tell you why. it's for the same reason that people do extreme sports. when you're standing on the precipice of an abyss with no railing and no parachute, only THEN do you consider the fragility of your mortality and feel the full thrust of what it is to be alive!

living in Africa takes balls of Titanium, and the courage of Jock of the Bushveld. we are the Navy Seals of the Planet. everyone knows it. and THAT'S why i'm proud to stand up and say: "I AM PROUD TO BE A [white] SOUTH AFRICAN!".

PAY UP SUCKER!!!

You know Universe, there are very few words to describe how You are treating me at the moment. lifting me up and then smashing me down like a spoilt child with a perfectly good toy. 'unfair' springs to mind. so does 'cruel'. and maybe even 'sadistic', or 'merciless'! yes 'merciless' is good!

what have i done to You lately that is SO OUT OF LINE that you'd throw me into the Cosmic Tumble Drier on a cycle that is SO RIGOROUS that it could churn out a pair of stone-washed jeans in a minute?

my mind has been twisted into a shapes that make pretzels look straight trying to fathom out what plausible rationale You could have for this abuse. full well KNOWING the state of my brain. honestly Universe, if You really want to hurt me then make it quick and get it over with. here You go, i'll even give You little a suggestion of my own devising: let the wind take the blame and suck me out of my 10th story window like a passenger in a plane that's nose-diving directly toward solid ground.

but this uncertainty is insufferable. i'd rather chew on a ball of tin-foil than ruminate on what the hell You're trying to do to me and why.

when, and IF You finally make up your mind, i fully intend to REMIND YOU that You are in CRIMSON RED karmic debt to me and i expect payback. with interest. PLUS VAT!

for a start could You please stop flying that airplane up and down in front of my window dragging that massive, acid orange, glow-in-the-dark Mango airline banner in front of my face. that's pretty cold and, quite frankly, beneath You.

STANDING ROOM ONLY...

you must see the public swimming pools from my apartment window today, the 26th of December, Boxing Day. i'd always wondered why the day after Xmas had been branded with such a violent label. but, in an instant i understood why this name so aptly fitted a day such as this. i'm telling you guys, if i was standing in the midst of the writhing mass of human pollution that have descended upon that innocent little patch of water, i'd be throwing wild and random punches at men, women and small children to get the hell out of there!

i get the fact that there are some people that don't get the opportunity to swim for the other 364 days of the year, but if you were in that position wouldn't you rather spend that SINGLE DAY relaxing and taking a load off? as opposed to standing in the middle of a swimming pool that is SO OVERTAXED that there isn't enough room to take a single stroke? especially when swimming is not your strong point. and taking one look at the condition of the life-savers one instantly realised that one's life was going to be in placed in harm's way. in fact after today they are more likely to be herded off by the police on charges of grievous bodily harm than to successfully practice CPR and save someone's life.

what is the thought that is revolving around inside one's head when, knowing all of this, one would then launch oneself off the 5m diving board only to wind oneself on impact and have to be dragged out by one of the death, i mean, life-guards. that doesn't look like Pamela Anderson FYI, because then that would then make perfect sense. and then get right up there and do it again?!

i look at this human carpet of gene-depleting chaos shaking my down-turned head filled with overwhelming feelings of anguish and despair.

what will become of the South African people if the children truely ARE our future? there's certainly no way of teaching THIS lot well before we let them lead the way, sorry to disappoint you Whitney Houston. i'm hanging onto the fine strand of hope that maybe you'll prove me wrong.

THANKS EVERYBODY, YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE!

WOW i got some amazing gifts this Xmas! here are a list of my favorites, if i left anything out i'm sorry but there's just so much to mention i don't have the space, i'm sure you understand.
here goes: my three Ed Hardy dresses, my knee-length cropped Replay jeans, my glass and steel side board, my color printer, a fresh box of GH, my silver crocodile skin couch and matching ottoman, my semi-permanent lip-liner, my wild new E2 t-shirts, ALL my super-cool new designer toys, my 100 song MP3 CD, oh, and my new car! (sorry, and Jonathan's new Porsche Carrera S. why must i mention this? i have no idea. this is all about ME but whatever, there, it's in. happy Jono? good.)

now where was i? oh yes, my GIFTS!

BOY i'm happy! and SO grateful. if i hadn't been shopping for presents for YOU GUYS i would've bought NONE of this stuff.

my credit card is maxed out so i couldn't buy you anything but i'll make up for it during the year ok?

thanks again. please don't spoil me so much next year, i almost feel guilty!

THE DAY I BECAME THE PIN CUSHION QUEEN!

ok, for those of you out there who are too lazy to study for seven years, or are just simply don't possess the IQ points to become a doctor, yet still want to SOUND like a specialist in something medical to gain respect from society, you'll be elated to discover that i have uncovered the perfect career choice for you - physiotherapy!

that's right. physiotherapy. doesn't that sound doctor-like and important? it does doesn't it? yet all you have to really do is rub a bit where the 'patient' tells you they're sore, and then you simply tell them to 'rest'. because you don't want to let them in on the fact that rest is the hardest drug you're allowed to prescribe...

so what do you do when you've injured your back and it's interfering with your training? and you still want to maintain your respect and credibility in the gym? and PHYSIO appears to be your only option?

i'll tell you exactly what you what to do because i am currently sitting in the bulls-eye of this very situation. literally. and if you're looking for a treatment that'll leave you breathing 'aaah', book yourself into a spa for a massage, because that's not what your going to find here. also if, like you Bryan, faint at the sight of a needle, stop reading right now and go take a muscle relaxant. this is NOT for you!

after i'd spent A SOLID WEEK having physio, i became more and more pissed off every time i walked out of there because by the time i sent foot in my front door - across the street - my back would seize up like a rabid pit-bull with lock-jaw.

and seeing as my life-line Voltaren was now giving me brain damage, i was hitting STRATOSPHERIC levels of frustration! i felt like i was stuck in a labyrinth, crippled, and being chased by one of the crazed inbreeds from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre. desperate, that's what i was, desperate!

i was in town so i popped in to visit Derek and i must've looked like shit because, well, because he TOLD me i looked like shit. i mean i felt like i was walking around with my back in a VICE. horrible! of course Derek - the man who knows alot about EVERYTHING - made me call his acupuncture guy right there ON THE SPOT. i was too weak to protest. he was free in 15 minutes. he was two blocks up the road. by the next time i blinked i was sitting on a little white stool in front of a tiny little oriental man who stuck a needle in my head.

that's right you read correctly, he pulled out a needle and stuck it in my head. which caused the blood to drain from my brain and empty into my feet so the time i blinked after THAT i was lying face down on a massage bed watching beads of my own sweat running down my face and dripping down my nose onto the floor beneath me.

he then started screwing - that's right - he didn't jab them, he SCREWED the needles into me!

now pause here a sec. i am a girl who is all too familiar with needles and have injected myself in almost every muscle that is penetrable by a needle. thanks to the fine coaching by Vic Alley who REALLY knows his stuff in this department. so i knew exactly how deep those needles were going - i estimated about an inch - and it FREAKED ME OUT! because in all he must've driven about THIRTY NEEDLES into my flesh. and every time i flinched i could feel EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM. it was a mindfuck.

i lay there, petrified, motionless, heart thudding against my rib-cage, and breathing breaths SO SHALLOW they wouldn't have moved a feather. for an hour. yes, ONE SOLID, INTERMINABLE HOUR. i felt like a child hiding in their cupboard with a deranged murderer stalking around outside.

i left there a shattered little soul, the spirit sucked right out of me, a body with a blank for contents.

i think i must've looked like one of those people you see on TV who've just had their house evaporated by a hurricane, wandering around in an open field, traumatised, stunned and in a state of shock.

i went home to have a shower and throw my sweat-drenched clothes in the washing machine. i was wearing Michael Stars i remember, because i recall now with horror as i stood in my kitchen staring at the blots of blood staining the fine tan fabric before me. it looked like the last outfit worn by the target of a firing squad.

it took me three days to recover from the shock. and five days to build up the balls to go back. because it worked. goddammit.

next time it'll be my fourth time. i've been reduced to a pin cushion i thought glumly. but no, why look at it like that? if i'm being forced into to doing something i might as well be the best! there have never been any grey-scales for me. except for the ones Derek has shaded into my skin. so i'm going to acupuncture the hell out of myself! until i'm 100%. or until i look like i've rolled through a cactus, whichever comes first! so this is me, Sandy Green, who'll now be addressed as the Pin Cushion Queen! anything you want to know about the experience of acupuncture? address your questions to the girl who's back looks like she's wearing an air-tex vest.

NO KLEENEX FOR GUYS!

ok that's IT i have HAD IT! i've never wanted to speak about this with you guys, but you've forced my hand.

i Sandy Green catagorically do NOT want to hear about your love lives.

i know i'm your friend and i'll be there for you through ANYTHING ELSE because i love you but NOT THIS! i'm sorry, but i've grown up in a world of some SERIOUS men's men who would rather have there LARYNX extracted than their emotions. so when you whine on about your girlfriends and wives, the silence emanating from me is not me listening to your story. it's my respect for you disappearing into a deep silent void where words do not exist so i have nothing to say to you.

can you picture Billy the Kid and Sheriff Pat Garrett sitting around the campfire, reloading their Smith & Wessons and discussing their bleeding broken hearts passing a box of tissues back and forth between them? i think not!

the cowboys from Brokeback Mountain however...

so sniff back those tears boys, dig deep and swallow hard. and if you REALLY need to pour out those emotions and have a good cry, pay a psychologist R500, do it behind soundproof walls and bolted doors in a vault. one kilometer underground. where noone can hear you wail. and for God's sake PULEEEZE don't come and tell ME about the experience.

if anything, do this for me, your mate, even if it's merely to sustain my illusion that real men still exist in the known world. come on guys, show me that you care.

100-0 in 12hrs!

i know that sounds like super-slow breaking power by Car Magazine standards, but when it comes to getting over a man i think that sets a new record of some kind. in fact somebody should call Guiness.

the only way to forget a man any faster than me, would be to receive a whack on the side of the head SO HARD that you'd suffer instant and total amnesia.

i manage to deconstruct all those intense feelings i felt in a fraction of a fraction of the time it took for me to make them.

how is this volatile reversal of emotions possible? how on earth am i able to do this amazing thing?!

i know how. it's a gift. that's right, a gift! from God. you know how some people can remember all the numbers in a telephone directory? well i can do the same thing with men. only in reverse.

i'm not sure how this came about, but i think that this is what happened: when i was on the Heavenly conveyor-belt being created, the Divine Being that was assembling me decided to try a little experiment and stuck a modifying microchip switch into my brain. this chip works in exactly the same way as the chip in a sports car does to make it go faster. i have included a picture of what it looks like, the D2 stands for 'deceleration squared'.

i call it my "I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU NOT" switch, but it's spoken like one word, " iloveyouiloveyounot". because it works really REALLY FAST!

the 'iloveyouiloveyounot' switch is located right in between the areas in my brain that are responsible for my boredom levels and attention span, heavily affecting them as well.

hey, here's another theory: maybe i don't have a Divine Microchip Switch after all, maybe my attention span is SO LOW and my boredom factor SO HIGH that they cancel each other and so erase my memory.

whatever, the fact is that THAT is how i'm wired.

now, remember all those devastating emotions i felt when Jonathan Horrell showed me he was NOT a man's man after all, but rather a man with the emotional maturity of a sperm and egg that have not even connected yet? well, that all took place in ONE MORNING. really! at 5 o'clock in the afternoon i went to visit Juri and we sat speaking crap for a few hours and, when i got into my car i was fine! like a video game that had been reset. it was as if someone had pressed the 'iloveyouiloveyounot' button in my brain and rebooted me. honestly! yesterday i woke up, blinked, shook my head and frisked myself to see if i was still alive. i was. except i was slightly different in one tiny way. i could not locate one SINGLE SHRED of emotion attached to, and could trace only a half a hardly-visible memory of Jonathan Horrell.

amazing.

i LOVE falling in love because it's unlike any drug in the WORLD in the way that it makes you higher than highest snowflake on the top of Mount Everest.

plus, i'm not hard-hearted. i always give someone the benefit of the doubt, giving them the space to prove to me that they are indeed as wonderful as they initially appeared to be, forever. and FYI, i always put in 110% of MYSELF as well. i give it all. the only difference is, at the first sign of a speed-wobble, i can hook reverse from 6th without having to gear down! no ABS necessary.

i have to add another little factoid here, in that unlike other cerebral activities that deteriorate with age, my 'iloveyouiloveyounot' ability is in fact exponentially growing more POWERFUL! instead of unlocking the door and letting guys familiarize themselves with the environment and make themselves at home, i seem to have removed their key-privileges before they've had time to sit down and have a cup of tea!

i suppose you're wondering how i'm going to respond when i see Jonathan in the gym again. well, it's going to go down something like this: i'm going to blow in as usual like a storm in monsoon season, with everybody 'HELLO SANDY'ing me, and, as always there'll be lots of hugs and jokes and laughter and teasing going on. THEN i'm going to let my eyes fall on him like an iron ball lodging into its hole inside a pinball machine, and i'm gonna say, "Ugh, YOU?! gimme a break i can't deal with you right now. be grateful because you've now got time to go and construct your first sentence to me with extreme care. use this rare opportunity wisely. oh, and FYI, "Apologize" (our song), is one word you shouldn't bother wasting on me because i don't give a shit anymore." then i'm going to roll my big brown eyes SO FAR BACK into the back of my skull that i won't be satisfied until i hear a grinding noise in my ears. and THEN i'm going to look straight past him directly into the baby blue eyes of Bryan - who called me this morning for coffee and now we're off to the beach.

see? there you have it! a live demonstration of my iloveyouiloveyounot switch in action for all of you to witness!

quite other-worldly isn't it?

ok, so i may never be able to sustain a this-worldly relationship, but let me tell you, i'm really REALLY grateful that the switch in my head is not "Autopilot". or "Cruise Control".

LET US BOW OUR HEADS AS WE PRAY...

AMEN.

THE PAPER DOLL IS ME.

ah what's wrong with me - don't state the obvious now ok? that's a cheap shot.

why at the age of 41 do i still allow people into my heart when i know everything that i know?

i see poison yet i open my veins.

i know all too well that the higher i get lifted, the bigger the red splat on the pavement down below will be. so sad. isn't it.

i could feel this happening. yet i went with it anyway. do i hate myself that much?

no i don't. i know that loving another person is the highest point of the experience of a human life. and receiving the opposite the lowest. by far.

i realize that i spoil people, and so end up spoiling them for myself. but that's me. and it's not wrong. i hope i never lose that quality in myself actually. the way that i believe people to be the full 100% FIRST and then, well then i guess i'm set for a whole lot of disappointments as i bump and crash my way down the mountain like a stone in an avalanche, ending up as a shattered pile of dust when i finally hit the bottom.

still i don't want to harden my heart. and i wish people would stop trying to harden it FOR me. because it's difficult to keep a door open when gale force storms keep slamming it shut.

i'm wounded as i'm typing these words. and big fat tears full of misery are splashing down onto my legs.

Jonathan Horrell has not spoken to me since yesterday morning. he hasn't responded to a single sms or answered my calls. it's like he's been whisked off the face of the earth by beings from another world. how could they not consider my feelings before they did that?! really, if i didn't know any better i'd think he was dead. because that's how it feels to me. like somebody has died. sadly however, i DO know better, well please God i THINK i do, and he's not the man's man i'd thought he was after all. yes i'm hurt, but sadly not surprised.

i'd try to wrap my head around how a person could blow as hot as the fires of, well Hell as it turns out, and then inhale that same breathe leaving the black vaccuum of deep space in its place. i really would give it a try had i not known that the most powerful minds in human existence had already struggled with matters of the blistered and tortured heart since, well, since the history of the sentient mind, and come up with nothing.

ah maaaan, i'd SO rather have a broken leg than a broken heart.

what have i done to deserve this God? don't answer that, i'm sure you've got plenty on me.

VIDA e COCAINE.

the cover might be different but the effect's exactly the same.

for all of you who've dabbled in street drugs and the very thought of when you're about to lose your heart as it breaks through your rib cage and slips through your jittery fingers into the storm-drain of the gutter you're lying in kinda makes you want to add 911 onto your speed-dial, learn from my mistake and NEVER order an extra large skinny cappuccino at Vida e Cafe and, as you start to feel it kick in, order ANOTHER one.

every self-respecting substance abuser who's worth their gram in coke KNOWS that anything that makes you feel a bit 'on' never ends with ONE serving and ALWAYS leaves you feeling the exact opposite of the degree of awesomeness you felt in the beginning.

Vida e Cafe has even got that whole 'party' vibe going on that distracts you while you get high and, before you know it, you're fucked and looking for a drink to bring you straight. if you're not drinking on the other hand, you have to ride out the rest of the day feeling wired and edgy, and God help anyone who gets in front of your dilated pupils THEN.

boy oh boy i did this yesterday. and of course i vowed, like all junkies on a downer the morning after, to NEVER DO THIS TO MYSELF AGAIN.

i had to go to the Waterfront in the morning, feeling like SHIT with like, the entire population of Joburg milling around in there. it was rough. and of course i had to walk past Vida and, you guessed it, like a junkie i watched myself selectively REMOVE the repercussions of yesterday's experience from my mind and considered starting from the beginning and order the exact same thing!

i sms'd my mom and some of my friends to talk a word of sanity into my thick head but you know what THEY said? my mom said "have it it'll make you feel good," and my FRIEND said "why don't you have some COCAINE?! go oooon!". that pulled me straight. i was like "shjaaa, whatever!" and i ordered a decaf instead. do you know that even the decaf put me on a bit of a buzz, like a placebo kinda thing. amazing.

but i'm wise to this kind of thing now so i'll walk wide careful circles around Vida in future before i place an order. i need my heart in perfect working order so i can squeeze some more people out of it before i die (read 'IF THE UNIVERSE CAN TAKE REVENGE WHY CAN'T I?' in case you're wondering if i meant you. i didn't).

IF THE UNIVERSE CAN TAKE REVENGE THEN WHY CAN'T I?

"the wheel turns", "karmic debt", "they'll get their day", "don't do God's work for him", "let nature take it's course". you know this type of phrase. and it's included in our inner-vocab because it is a manifestation of what happens in real life every day to people who've misbehaved. which is EVERYBODY. without exception.

what is this? i'll tell you what this is THIS is the Universe taking REVENGE that's what it IS!

what ever happened to "turn the other cheek"? why can't the Universe do THAT? after all that's what Jesus would do. wouldn't he? i guess we'll never know the answer to that question because who can read the mind of Jesus? and by the looks of things he's not coming back to take a press conference any time soon, so we'll have to wing it on our own down here until the end of time. which is not going to be tomorrow, i think we can safely say.

in the mean time people are getting hurt down here maaan! and we're not allowed to defend ourselves because revenge is not on the list of what-to-do's in the Cosmic Justice System. PLUS, if we DO take revenge, it makes us feel like shit and it never works out the way we'd seen it happening when we had it all mapped out in our heads anyway. it's like we were created with an implant that disallows our revenge plans to ever pan out. and we can't enjoy it if, if in the remote chance, they do!

so what? i must sit back and do ZERO to people that disregard me and make me feel like crap and GOD can have ALL the pleasure of caning them, in His own sweet time which DEFINITELY does NOT synch up with MY time - in fact, i think God is a bit of a Capetonian in this regard.

now where was i going with this? oh yes right, now listen up all you UIOA Clifton Diamond Jews out there, you are also 'God's People' just in case you thought you were from a superior parallel universe or something. in fact you are God's CHOSEN people. if i were you i'd ask myself whether that's altogether a good thing. i sure as hell wouldn't want to be the centre of attention of a vengeful deity. but you're too thick-skinned to even contemplate that idea. in fact, you'd probably condescend to Abraham, Isaac and Joseph if they stood there in their robes at Newport Cafe.

so with all this in mind how's what happened to me today: i walked past the new Nina Roche store in the Waterfront just now - Nina Roche is just about the most expensive shoe shop south of the equator and it originates in Hyde Park Corner in Joburg, my home track. two Jewess's were standing outside. i overheard them saying, "this is Nina ROCHE you know. you won't get a pair of shoes inside THIS store for under FIVE GRAND...", and, while they were saying this they gave me the disapproving jew-once-over. blatently. they looked right down their standard Dr.Saul Braun-issue noses at me - geez i'm sure that man can perform THAT op with his eyes closed with one hand behind tied behind his back while watching reruns of Scrubs to keep himself awake by now. good for you Saul.

but remember now, they were standing OUTSIDE Nina Roche, indicating that they were too shit scared to go IN, because the humiliation of not BUYING anything combined with having to hide the mortification on their faces every time they turned over a shoe to look at the price might've been too much for their botox to handle and they couldn't risk a melt-down in a shop of THIS stature in it's opening week.

my chest swelled inside my skin and MY face didn't have botox to stun my expression, nor did i WANT it to. i beamed a smile at them that just about exposed my wisdom teeth, turned into the door with my arms spread out wide in a hug-me-now pose and marched inside toward the staff, like i was greeting my family at arrivals at the airport after i'd been away on Mars for the past two years. i kept the corner of my eye carefully focussed on them and i watched as their jaws unhinged and fell onto the tiles at their feet as the girls all yelled in unison, "SANDYYYYY!!!".

"welcome to CAPE TOWN Nina Roche!" i announced and i hugged each and every one of them.

"hey! GUESS WHAT we've brought your GLADIATOR SANDLES!!!" they put them at my feet.

the two women with half a face now stood IN the door, mesmerised. Nazneen - the manager - looked over at the two of them and said, "not that she's ever going to WEAR them, she'll carry on walking around in shorts and slops while ALL HER SHOES that we've EVER sold her sit at home in her cupboard, unworn. can you believe it?!"

they couldn't believe it. and i never looked back at them again because the Gladiator sandles held my eyes in a vice.

but hang on just a minute, wasn't that revenge that just took place right there? and God's timing happened to be zeroed in to the last fraction of a milli-second. rewind. so how do i view this now?

revenge IS allowed to be had by us, but GOD must execute it on OUR BEHALF. okay i can deal with that. it's not FIRST PRIZE but i'll take anything i can get. revenge is revenge and it feels FANTASTIC!

and just to get the last word in (sorry God), ladies, before you criticise someone in future, first walk a mile in their shoes. of course you won't be walking in MINE because THEY'RE from Nina Roche!

NO PILL FOR HEARTBREAK.

all relationships must run their course, everything ends, and it's a brave and painful step when you realize it's time to let go and move on with your life, alone.

they say it's better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all.

i say it's better to have loved and CARRIED ON loving and NOT to have lost, at all.

at the end of every rainbow is actually a cemetery. every cloud contains rain. and every oasis is in fact a mirage.

anyway, now that i'm strong enough to articulate my thoughts, here's what pulled the table-cloth out from under my plate yesterday:

i've always been able to rely on Voltaren, it's been a loyal and trustworthy partner for many years. it's only ever wanted to see me happy, relaxed and pain-free. never needy. and never asking anything in return.

or so i thought.

why is it that when one opens one's heart and lets their guard down, the first thing they receive is a bullet in the chest?

can love be SO BLIND that we see chocolate sprinkle-spread, which in reality is actually a swarm of army ants?

as you might've read, my world has changed color recently - from normal to psychadelic - which i suppose is a change and spices things up a little in an otherwise average day but hey, blue food just doesn't somehow taste the same. it was fun in the beginning but the novelty eventually wore thin.

before i went to see my doctor yesterday, i injected myself with a dose of Voltaren - i'd hurt my back recently so i didn't want to be in pain and so be distracted from the case at hand. i knew Voltaren would be there for me and never let me down, like an ungrateful boyfriend. or a Capetonian. or - the WORST - an older brother.

so off i went, the pages of my mind open, ready to be read.

anyway, while we were still sitting there making idle chit-chat, i remarked how volatile lithium levels can be and how sensitive they were to so many things.

"yes!" he replied, "like say, anti-inflammatories for example."

stunned silence.

"say whaaaat...", my voice trailed off as if it had been swallowed by a black-hole, disappearing into infinity and beyond.

"anti-inflammatories," he repeated, "you know, like Voltaren (sharp intake of air), that type of thing. very bad."

"but i... what...WHY?! HOW?!" my volume quickly recovered.

"oh jaaa," he said, as if the teller at the Spar could've told me such a commonly known little factoid, "that combined with heavy cardio, dehydration, ha! lethal combination."

lithium was a salt. i remembered Raymond telling me this in the BEGINNING but i'd been through so much since then that who could've remembered.

i didn't ask him to go any further. i was too devastated to have retained anything he would've said after THAT so i took it on the chin right there and held myself together just long enough so i could break down when i got home in the company of myself so i wouldn't look weak and pathetic.

in hindsight, had i not been such an emotional wretch, i should've told him to haul out his prescription pad right there and then like i NORMALLY would've done and give me something else. at least while i was on the REBOUND anyway.

but here i sit today. my back is aching. the physio's just a plain old pain in the, well BACK i guess. i hate them. and i think they're just sad medical-school drop-outs who can at least call themselves a fancy doctor-ish sounding name while all they REALLY do is rub you a bit, and the hardest thing they're allowed to prescribe is 'rest'. Ugh!!!

but not only am i in physical pain i am heart-broken and sad. i've been rude and short to the most undeserving people ALL DAY. in fact, i was saying to Jonathan that if Mother Theresa had've offered me water in the desert today i would probably have snapped at her for taking her damn sweet time about it. (you SEE how you make me act when you wound me!). there's a hole in my life SO HUGE it makes the void of deep-space appear FULL by comparison. all this time i'd been laying my trust with total abandon in my loyal and steadfast rock-like companion Voltaren, while behind my back it had actually been HURTING me and was NOT interested in my safety and well-being ALL ALONG!

i felt so used and betrayed. i felt as if i would never open my heart and trust again. i wished it would just go away so i could move on and pretend like the whole thing had never happened in the first place. but i was stuck with it INSIDE MY BRAIN until IT was good and ready to leave!

i'd love to stick my head in the sand, block my ears and go "la la laaah..." until it has gone, but this morning when Jonathan and i were training legs, the floor was sliding around underneath my feet like an escalator combined with an op-art painting. it made me very angry and i actually let it ruin my WHOLE DAY. which i will never allow to happen again because it simply is not worth the energy. i know the letters on this screen are really black, and will appear that way very soon again. and it doesn't bother me ONE BIT FYI.

now listen up! it's OVER Voltaren oKAY! there's the bin, take your shit and close the lid behind you! your key-privileges have been REMOVED. go find yourself another poor lithium-deficient schizo-affective head-case to chemically drain for another ten years.

i'm NEVER going to fall so hard again and i'm going to research future prospects more carefully before i let them in. they'll have to PROVE their worth to me and i'm keeping my options open unil the right one comes along. and THAT'S my final answer.

so, with that all cleared up then, i'm just going to take two of these schedule five 750mg Robaxin muscle relaxants, go to bed and tomorrow i can wake up fresh and get on with my life.

I DON'T PLAY BASEBALL.

Natasha you asked: when is the right time to go to 3rd base with a man.

i don't know because i can't play baseball. i don't know the rules, i don't know how to score, i'm not strong enough to bowl, i'm not accurate with a bat, in fact, if baseball came on Supersport i'd change the channel.

baseball is something i leave entirely up to the pro's because it's not my area of expertise and it only hurts my head when i try to figure it out.

but you're going to ask me what i would do if someone threw a baseball at me?

i have no idea. depending on my state of mind at that very moment i could either duck, hurl abuse at the retard who threw it at me, catch it and not know what to do with it. or under the right conditions i might just catch it and throw it right back.

so unless you want to go through the stress of learning a sport that's simply not designed for you, and one you're never really going to crack the major leagues in, get out of the ball-park and do things that are.

and if you're wondering when the baseball player in question is going to make the run for 3rd - or 1st or 2nd base for that matter, who cares because he knows what to do. and if he doesn't then save you're chest for somebody else's autograph.

JONATHAN HORRELL PAINTS HIMSELF.



JONATHAN HORRELL FINALLY SHOWS SOME TALENT.

i love Jonathan Horrell. he's a radiant beam of sunshine that sets my day alight. this man has made me smile SO MUCH in the short while we've been spending SO MUCH time together that i think he should dig deep and sponsor me botox.

for the last two weeks Jonathan's been in his version of 'the ZONE'. he'd been repeating this OVER and OVER to me and he was beginning to sound like a the tune on an ice-cream truck. to Jonathan 'the Zone' meant that he had STOPPED drinking, STARTED dieting and was about to change the reality of my gym experience as i knew it. i was cool with that. i'd go along with it and observe this space. either way i didn't mind, i wasn't in Jonathan's 'Zone'. i was in a zone of my own. we'll call it 'ZONE REALITY' as a working title for now.

yesterday he walked through my door using this as his opening statement: "I FEEL LIKE A BEER!"

i smirked. but told him to go ahead and have one. there was beer in my fridge left over from Wendy's birthday party.

ooo no no he wasn't going to do THAT he responded he was in 'the Zone' didn't i KNOW that by now?! and he whisked me off to the beach (which i have to add is always really great with him).

anyway in between his usual 'Basil Green' style bitching and moaning - which on HIM however is totally cute and very funny - he kept steering our conversation toward achieving the balance between having JUST ONE DRINK and getting TOTALLY shit faced. he'd now stumbled into a world where i'd reigned as queen - no scratch that - HIGH PRIESTESS, for many years.

therefore, for all of my People, i feel an obligation to part with a little factoid about this world's unusual numerical sequence: it does not include the number '1'. (unless one breaks it down into fractions which make up one EPIC event.)

he agreed he said he KNEW this.

i asked him what exactly was the point of ever having ONE drink? why would anyone do this? you drink to get hammered. don't you? certainly not for a taste sensation. he agreed he said he KNEW this alcohol tasted like SHIT and it only existed for its inebriating properties, like beer for example, but he said he never drank beer anyways he was a SCOTCH man (as if scotch tasted any more fantastic). however still he was saying that he was in 'the Zone', but only now i was hearing him pronouncing it 'zone', instead of 'ZONE!'. i didn't comment on this because i didn't want to sound like a know-it-all, but i knew that the announcement of a RESOLUTION usually ends up in a REVOLUTION that overthrows one's inner-government and burns them at the stake at dawn.

we got home and he walked straight over to the fridge, keys still in hand, beach-towel still strung over his shoulders. i think he was still talking about the devastating effects of a hangover when he plonked himself down in front of ME, GOD, Gabriel and by his ENTIRE Heavenly Host of angels and, while he was still in MID-SENTENCE knocked back a huge swallow of beer. as if we were blind!

he read my face, put the beer down and said: "whaaaat?!", he looked down and started reading the label on the bottle, "this is Windhoek LIGHT oKAY it's got like, ZERO alcohol and, look it says here it's got like, 2.whatever grams of carbs and ZERO fat!". he raised his eyebrows at me, i'm not sure whether he was trying to CONVINCE me and get my two-thumbs-up, or whether he was testing my memory to see if i'd forgotten that just then he'd said how crappy beer tasted. yes, i said, it was the same as the Diet Sprite i was drinking, "that's right, or WATER!" he responded.

i said hey, it was fine, he didn't have to explain himself away to me, he was a grown man and didn't need parenting. and i meant it. really i did.

so i went into the kitchen and made myself a salad.

while i was busy i noticed a bottle of Jameson's in my cupboard, also from Wendy's party residue. i caught his eye from where i was standing. "whaaat?", he said still waiting for a snotty comment from me. instead i revealed the location of the bottle of scotch.

pause. now i know how this is beginning to sound. yes, i was having fun making him reveal how weak his will-power was, but i really just wanted him to relax and give himself some well deserved time-out.

now, the Universe graces every individual with a unique and special gift. like some people can play the guitar without learning a note - this was not Jonathan's gift because he'd bought an electric guitar (to placate his inner rockstar) but was yet to strum a chord. however he'd kept repeating to me how he could drink for like, EVER, and never get drunk - "i'm telling you girl after a bottle and a half of scotch i'll be talking to you exactly like i am now".

he wasn't far wrong.

anyway, he stuck DSTV on VH1 and we sat speaking shit - which consisted, as usual, of me talking and him contradicting everything i said. he's funny. actually, my lithium levels started reeling round about then as the colors in my salad started turning luminous acid colors. but i found myself laughing instead of speed-dialling Raymond. this was a first for me. Jonathan is very relaxing for me to be around and i obviously feel really safe with him. suddenly a song came on that made us both sit up and shut up. we both LOVED this song and sat transfixed till we caught the title at the end. i almost climbed INSIDE my Mac and got Limewire searching SO FAST that i'm sure the program hyperventilated. we sat holding our breaths until, SHEBANG! there it was! "APOLOGISE" by Timberland featuring One Republic. we played it over and over until i commented that we might be murdering it but he said, "so what i LOVE killing songs!", so did i so i put it on replay for SO LONG that eventually we had to get out of the building or we might've jumped out of the 10th floor window in a hypnotic trance. we decided to go to a bar.

we landed up at Wakame, very UIOA - that stands for 'up its own ass'. Wakame is La Perla no.2. FYI.

but as the Universe would have it, every time i say i hate something i get the opposite dealt to me, and we ended up having a really brilliant time. he looked really cool in the kamakaze-flaming-jet-fighter t-shirt i'd bought him (i couldn't resist) and he was making his friend Duncan and i weep with laughter as he swung between calling himself 'THE ROCK' and 'THE WOLF' and that the two of us should not mess with EITHER identity. when we inquired as to which one he actually WAS he replied it depended on which language we were speaking, in English he was 'THE ROCK' but in Latin he was 'THE WOLF'. however they both meant the same thing: don't mess with HIM or he'd beat us like a red-headed step child! they ended up playing ching-chong-cha in a battle to display their manliness, 'THE ROCK/WOLF' won and i said 'let's get outa here' and we went back to Duncan's house. i remember them asking me what was iiiii going to do there because i wasn't drinking, to which i replied "why? have i not been any fun the way that i am for the past eight hours?" they looked at each other and shrugged an affirmative and we left.

the three of us sat there talking and talking for SO LONG that Duncan eventually had to cook me a meal (kingklip - very good) and make me skinny cappucino's (also not too shabby).

at this point i need to mention that Jonathan was drunk. and no, sorry Jono but you were NOT in the exact same condition as you were ten hours ago at my apartment. however he was definitely not out of control or battling to speak or stand. he was a wonderful drunk! this was it! Jonathan Horrell had revealed to me his special gift from the Universe - he was a human alcohol sponge!

however when the conversation began to settle on his ex-girlfriends etc etc, i felt myself becoming very uncomfortable, sorry i'm not sure why - or maybe i am sure why and i just don't feel like saying it here - but i really did not want to hear about his love life. i sucked it up however, get it off your chest, i've got broad shoulders (thanx again Vic Alley). i was really tired anyway and it was like 2:30 in the morning so i went home.

he stayed at Duncan, his car stayed at me. when i woke up i saw his keys were still lying on my table and i began to worry. telling myself they were grown men and could take care of themselves over and over in my head i went into town for accupuncture. the little oriental man examined me and asked me whether i was under any unusual stress because my Chi was blocked. impressive stuff. but i guess the doorman lounging at the entrance could've picked that up after i'd tounge-lashed him for not opened the door fast enough. when i got out Jonathan called, i sighed an exhale of relief and went home to give him his keys.

he was in pretty bad shape, but in the cutest way i can't describe it.

he went home. but i quickly started recieving sms's that read something like this: "puhleeeeeeeze don't let me do this to myself again," and "Angel i feel sooooo terrible," to which i responded that he should MAN UP! we'd had a great evening. he said he was having a bubble bath - a very ROCK/WOLF-like thing to do don't you think? and finally he went to bed.

so there you have it people: Jonathan is a fine pilot but an even BETTER drunk. fantastic for our viewing pleasure but sadly painful for him to recover from.

KUDOS Jono! you've earned your wings on the Universal List of Indestructible Constitutions, standing shoulder to shoulder with all time greats like Brad Green, Duncan Fuller and Chippie Aitkinson. you may now recieve the crown that we, the leaders of the Council of Chaos, have been waiting to hand over for such a long time. "balance has finally been restored in the Universe! the prophesy has come to pass! he is the Chosen One! we dub thee 'King Horrell, HIGH PRIEST of Drunkenness'! ALL HAIL!

(tap on each shoulder with a Peroni bottle, crowd cheering wildly background)!"

respect!