ode to a fear

I walk into the room and my eyes immediately fixate on the bowl that lies before me. My nostrils flare at the overwhelming tangy scent. I gag. I stare at the bowl's contents as if it is about to attack. Its shape offends me. How could one consume such a thing? I continue to circle the table hosting this bowl of yellow and brown substance. I can't get too close. A gust of wind pushes through the door forcing the already strong scent to rise to an unbearable level. My throat tightens. My eyes water. I want to breathe but the scent is too strong. I fear my mouth may taint from the stench.

I see someone reach for one. She reaches with such ease, such complacency.   She starts from the top and begins to slowly peel, peel, peel away. The skin flops lifelessly on either side of her fist. She gropes the item in a sexual manner. How else does one hold something in the shape of a penis? The stringy membrane hangs around the edges making it all the more horrible to watch. I can see by looking at it that it is soft, yet firm–a horrible texture. I notice a mark. My sense of panic heightens. Is she going to eat that?

As she lifts the piece to her mouth my stomach churns and clenches. She bites down and chews with ease. She swallows and opens up for more. Bite by bite this thing goes down, all the while I am in the final throws of insanity as I watch this act of consummation. I can see the pieces she has bitten push up onto the inside of her cheeks, rotating around her mouth.

Finally, she pinches up the last piece and places it on her tongue that quickly slips back into her mouth. With skin still in hand she waits until the final piece is swallowed. I feel anxious at the thought of where this peel will end up. Slipping on it is the least of my problems. If it comes near me I will go into anaphylactic shock. She walks toward me. I flinch. As she passes me I jump back. My fingers pinch my nostrils to block the smell. My skin crawls and my flesh gooses. Her foot plonks down on the bin pedal opening up the bins mouth. She casually drops the peel. It makes a sufficient plop as it drops to the bins bottom.

I couldn't bear to open that bin now. It is tainted. Infected. Filled with something my heart will never desire to touch. Never hope to eat. Never wonder to try. Goodbye banana. 

Yes, it is true. I have bananaphobia. I cannot stand the taste, smell, texture, feel , shape or thought  of bananas. I can barely type the word. You may find it strange, yet it is in fact rather common (well I know two people for sure who aren't a fan - that's good enough for me ).

Being bananaphobic has added a new dynamic to many of my friendships and relationships. My friends get much thrill out of chasing me around with a banana in their hands. A boyfriend of mine once thought it funny to come at me from behind with one and successfully managed to make me think it was his. My aunt has photographed me with one on my chest while I was sleeping and  my sisters never fail to fence me with one. All of the above bring me to tears.

For more on the topic: http://www.fearofbananas.org/

dial 0800 - idiot

I spend far too much time on the internet, so for about 82.3% of my day I am exposed to adverts.
You can't help but notice the naked lady ones that pop up on the sides asking you to call them because they have been naughty and what not. I always wonder about the type of people that actually click them thinking they will get to speak to the 'real' girl on the ad. I figured the likes of these people...

 The ads

This is not a 'real' Russian woman. She doesn't even look Russian. She looks Swedish if anything. This is a real Russian woman.

ummmm...I'm pretty sure everyone can say 'no'. You just round your lips and push out an 'n' for Nancy and an 'o' for oh shit you got a big ass! If you can't say it, write it.

I can't say I have met anyone who has said they are in a 'Dream Marriage' so again, false advertising.

Girls who look like this aren't usually single.

Girls like this are



She reminds me of the squirrel from 'Sword in the Stone'

I bet the guy who took to this one thought "Dangit! I better get me a suit"

 Now isn't this lovely? A calm and classy looking lady with flawless skin and a blank stare...

LOOK AT HER BOOBIES!!!

What you see...

  What you get...

the mobile file

I am not overly bothered about super fancy phones (although I would like to mention for wanking purposes that I do own an iPhone). As long as it texts and calls - I am happy. Having said that one of the things I love about a phone is the camera function. One can capture the best footage and imagery the second it goes down. No fumbling through your bag for your camera - your phone is always in an easily accessible place to whip out and use at any time. I have captured some fabulous things on my good ole' Blackberry (before I upgraded her ass to an iPhone) and as she rests in peace, I would like to share some of her finest footage...

Getting my first tattoo.

My first dinner in Buenos Aires - by far the worst pizza ever made in the history of the world.

I guess this is me getting pumped by a gas guy at a petrol station in BA.

Um...yes, that's um...a bum...in lacey knickers...

The biggest burger I have eaten to date. Of course it was bought from an American establishment - TGIF.

Quilmes rock festival '11 where all my dreams came true...I finally got to see Jack Johnson live! I remember at one point he said "My Spanish isn't good and I'm not sure if you speak English but...." and I shouted out at the top of my Marlboro soaked lungs "I DO!!!!I SPEAK ENGLISH!!!" For some reason, I actually thought he would hear me, pick me up out of the audience, take me onto stage and ask me the question there.

The Super Bomb...The firecracker we used on the 4th of July 2011 that nearly burnt our asses.

Um, yes...This was a man who broke into his kitchen with no pants on.

Dennis sporting a fetching mid military do.

Another evening of boredom in Buenos Aires. I did my face up in eyeliner, pulled up my undies and traipsed around my apartment looking like this for the whole of Saturday night.

Nuns. Always deserve a photograph.

Vandalized 'don't do this sign' - man eating a willy.

And another...

My favorite!! A pair of false teeth on the street!! I would have paid the person who told me the story of how these got there.

A packet of flour with an African lady on it.

My System of a Down concert ticket (best show I've been to)

No - that's not how you spell my name.

Don't worry - it's brownie mix (at least I think it is)

Hanson - need I say more.

My hot neighbour in BA.

That would be me. With my pants down. In front of a big metal flower in Buenos Aires.

One of the best things in the world - Woolworths cous cous salad.

A Christian book store in South Africa - CUM

That is all

analysing anal

One of the many things I learned living in Buenos Aires was that the men over there are big on anal. You're not even in bed for five minutes and they're lifting you up or turning you around to stick your naught. I'm all for being called 'baby' in bed, but when a man picks you up by the ankles as if he's about to change your nappy, I do get a bit nervous. I can't do it. I just cannot do it. My anus just isn't built for that kind of action. It is simply built for one way traffic only. It's where you do your poo-poos. Having said all this, I do have utmost respect for people who can take it up the bottom. To endure the pain is quite something - so big up to you if have the balls (or bum) to go through with it.

I would love to meet the very first man to stick his willy in a bottom. I would love to know what drove him to get there. Was he gay and had no other choice? Was he straight and bored of the fanny? Was he an alpha male wanting to dominate the female body? I guess I'll never know... I can however ask the people of today what they think about it...

do it your-shelf

It was a cold Winter morning when I decided I wanted to build a bookcase. I was hungover and it seemed like a good idea at the time. I figured it couldn't be too difficult. A couple of pieces of wood, some nails and a bit of paint - sorted. When I told my boyfriend and his father of my idea to try my hand at carpentry, they laughed at me. They said it wasn't easy. They didn't believe me when I said I could do it. Their friends laughed at me. Oh how they roared. How could no one think I could do this? I decided to move forward with my dream of building a bookcase/shelf and document it for all those who believed I couldn't do it.

Well they were right. I realised very quickly that building a bookcase was not as easy as I thought it would be. How could I have been so delusional? I didn't think about things like making sure it was lined up at 90 degrees, sanding, filling up gaps, measuring shit etc. When the woodcutter guy started sawing the wood I felt like I was giving birth to an unwanted child, but it was too late. The wood was cut, the R750 bill was paid and I had no choice but to go through with it...

The shelf turned out alright in the end. In fact, I think it's rather quite fabulous. Thanks to Dennis (my carpentry adviser) and Chewy for all the moral support.

traveling beans - part 3 - Laos

On our way to the boat stop, we visited the White Temple, another lavish Thai Temple (how these people afford this shit I don't know). It was rather magnificent and had ever such nice toilets, which suited my erratic bowel movements on that day just fine.








The boat we took to Laos was long, thin, wooden and had a chug chug motor. It would take two days to get to Luang Prabang. Wooden benches, that used to be the seating on the boat, had been replaced with car seats, so the ride was relatively comfortable. Time was killed reading and snacking and it wasn't as bad as we thought it would be. We stopped overnight and stayed in a comfy room with a great balcony overlooking the river, where we had breakfast.









Luang Prabang is a sweet little town with French colonial buildings and a vast cultural mix. It had a good vibe. The town had a brilliant night market - a typical Asian vision – bright colours, beautiful fabrics and carved wooden goods. They also sold whiskey with snakes, spiders and mice in the bottles. It’s supposed to give you strength to drink from a whisky bottle that contains one of these animals (not sure how strong a mouse is supposed to be though).







We were told by a couple we met on the train (code named: big boobied Italian and knaggy toothy Brit) that Blue Lagoon was a must see. It was really beautiful - a clear, blue, fresh water lagoon with a rope to swing into the water and a bridge above it. Neighbouring the lagoon was a huge cave that housed a sleeping Buddah.









We visited a local community and it was like visiting the 'museum of cute children' - man if I am ever infertile I would be happy to scoop up one of these little ones. Asia definitely wins the award for birthing the cutest kids!











After Luang Prabang, we trekked on to Vang Vieng - where all the action takes place. We went out to a popular bar in the area where whip-its and any other drug you could think of seemed to be easy to get straight from the bar. I wish I had an exciting drug related story for you, but I am a woos when it comes to taking drugs in a foreign country so nothing to report there.  Laos had loads of really cool open restaurants and all of them were either playing 'Friends' or 'Family Guy'. They were always packed with tourists chilling and watching some Western telly.







We signed up to Kayak from Vang Vieng to Vientiane. We had a great tour guide and made the 1-hour bus, 1-hour kayak to the capital of Laos. We stopped half way for a lunch, cooked especially for us on a little hand made fire on the rocks. Another amazing meal whipped up under simple circumstances.









We wished we had more time in Laos but were glad to have seen it at all. After a night mission looking for a dog dinner (not for me I might add) we caught our plane to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.

Beany saying number 104: "and then some!"