Are YOU on facebook?

What do you mean no? Come on, the whole world has jumped on this cyber band wagon. It's the greatest social networking tool in the world. Scratch that. The universe.

But haven't you ever wondered what it would look like in say, 25 years from now when all those young, taut twenty somethings? I certainly have.

And I log on to my facebook profile almost every day to see which wonderfully kind individual has left a sick, perverted message in my inbox. If I receive one more email about how how I can increase the size of my member I will...I will... I'll get madder than a snake.

But I detract for it has been a long day, and my face is even longer from all the trials and tribulations I have faced these past few hours. In fact, I think I may have aged enough that I may indeed actually look as though I belong on facebook's "25 years from now" version. Nothing a long, hot soak in the tub can't fix. My cats coming in, peeking over the edge of the tub. Getting splashed by water, wondering where it came from. Ah, such a simple life.

A case of wrist tendinitis

I dunno how other people get theirs, but I got mine from a severe slap on the wrist. Sorry WRM :-(

In my previous post, I was caught up in the spirit of tabloid sensationalist journalist and started blabbing on and on about the crapness of South Africa and the power(less) situation down there. Personally, the only info I receive is from friends ad family down there and if it weren't for them, I too would be left out in the dark - so to speak.

So, a sharp slap on the wrist for me, and lashings as well. A good scolding would not be complete without lashings.

I'm not going to write about the power situation in South Africa anymore. I have learned my lesson. Do not write about which that you do not know. First rule of journalism. No, I am not a journalist, but it was my major in college.

So in future, family and friends, if you want to tell me about how difficult it is living in the dark, please leave me in it. I will send you a petrol-operated power generator and we can call it quits. Deal?

Why they call it "Darkest Africa"

This is what South Africa has looked like for the past two weeks. Power outages have been a regular thing over the last two weeks and folks down there are getting a little antsy.

It's cause for worry, if you ask me. The continent's richest country having power outages, its gold mines having to close down as a result. What's next? A totally irreparable economy like their northern neighbor's?

The strange thing is, it's not just one or two areas in a city. Oh no, that would be too convenient. It's the WHOLE FREAKIN' COUNTRY. Right, now let's move back to the U.S. and for a moment imagine that situation happening here. Lights and electricity going out in say, L.A. Not for just an hour or two. Not for a day. BUT TWO WEEKS! Then spread that out. L.A., New York, Chicago, Atlanta, Seattle, Dallas. People would be up in arms about it.

But not in South Africa. They only get up in arms and 'toy toy' in the streets if they are made to work five hours a day and pay taxes and not receive free education and public health. Shocking.

Africa's Titanic, she is sinking, fast.

What I had for lunch today

I've discovered quite a delicious dish here on the east coast. People I work with have been raving about it ever since I arrived for my first day. This cute little pic above is what it started out as.

And then I got hungry and decided it should look like this:
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the LAMB GYRO. Soft and succulent, tomato, onions, cucumber sauce (I think it's cucumber) and a few too many shavings of lettuce. Who would have imagined that little fella in the top pic could taste so good ;-)

Scary stuff

Wow, didn't see that one coming. The worldwide tabloid media is buzzing after the news of Heathciffe Ledger's death. And despite his recent role as the unemotional, psychotic Joker, trust me, this is no joke. Apparently he had been complaining of not getting enough sleep - next thing you know, he's found bottom up, on his bed, with a bottle of sleeping tablets nearby.

Not to make light of this tragic event, but see, it's true: a lack of sleep CAN kill you!

Tough times

In the 60s, people took acid to make the world weird. Now the world is weird and people take Prozac to make it normal. No, seriously, think about it. The way my parents get all nostalgic about the 60s makes me wonder if that wasn't a better time.

Sure, nowadays we have telephones and jet engines and TV and the internet. But think about how much more complicated and difficult life is. I constantly hear of people having to hold down two jobs just to make ends meet. It's a time of high taxes and nothing in return. The property market is in shambles and home owners are terrified. Social security is a joke and those now in their 30s may not even have a social security to fall back on when it's time for us to retire.

Fuel prices are at an all-time high, countries are at war, AIDS is still ravaging the planet and famine is causing people around the world to starve. The ozone layer is depleting and the ice caps are melting. And what do we do? Anything we can to make another buck.

People in the 60s worked to live. Now, we live to work. You put in 10, 11, 12 hours a day and for what? To put food on the table and to keep the lights on. What a sad existence we have. I want to live in the 60s.

Yes, I pulled a "Britney"

So last Sunday, I put clippers to the head and went crazy. Not nut-job crazy like Ms. Spears, but rather "take it all off" kinda crazy. And the reactions have been, um, quite interesting. To answer all your questions as to just why I did it, I decided to reply in a "reply all" fashion:

No, I did not shave my head because I am undergoing chemo.

No, I did not shave my head to steal the spot light from Ms. Spears.

No, I did no shave my head because I had lice. (gross)

No, I did not have a nervous breakdown.

No, I did not shave my head to imitate my art director.

Yes, I shaved my head because I kinda screwed up while cutting my hair. I had just finished the side, just above my ear, and was about to move to the other side of my head to make it all even when the clippers went blunt. And we all know what happens when clippers go blunt. They wrap their little fists around clumps of your hair, quite tightly, and pull. Retract that. They yank! So instead wanting to looking like a 'tard, I flipped the clippers around and decided to take it all off. Hey, I'm all about new experiences, and I had never shaved my head before.

But the cool thing is that while I may look almost thuggish, hair grows back. But for now, I'm enjoying it. Even if people on the street look at me with a mixture of fear and disgust.

It weighs the same as half a baby!

Holy schutzpah! Mac has done it again. The new MacBook Air weighs the same as half a normal healthy baby. Yes, just three pounds.

And it's real purdy too. With lots of memory. I don't know what half the features are but hey, it's purdy. And look how thin it is - like the Kate Moss of Macs. And did I mention it weighs as much as half a baby?

*sniff*

And not one of those, "Time to cry" sniffs either. No, my sniffing episodes are brought on by the cold weather here. So I sniff. And sniff again. Before I finally grab a Kleenex and get rid of the cause of the sniffing. For about two minutes!

I'm reminded of a two year old with a cold. Runny nose, shiny tracks. Just like a glazed donut. Only I don't wait for the tracks. That would just be gross. And work colleagues would look at me oddly.

"Don't you have Kleenex in South Africa?" They would ask.

"Kleenex is a brand, not a generic name for tissues, you silly Americans." I would reply.

"Blow your nose. You look like a two year old with a runny nose, a glazed donut." They would retort.

And due to my stuffy head and runny nose, I would have no come-back.

Hey, who turned off the heat?

No seriously, who turned it off? Snow one day, freezing cold the next, blistering winds and then rain. It's no wonder most of the folks on the east coast have flu.

Today is a hand-numbing 35 degrees (that's 2 degrees to the folks who use celcius). We're talking coat over sweater over t-shirt cold. Gloves and scarves cold. Runny nose freezing cold. So I want to know, who turned off the heat?

Yes, the pic is real. It's a suburb here, and as you can see, it's cold. There's remnants of snow cold. Grey and rainy just like London cold. And it's no small wonder I am coughing and sniffing like a glazed donut 3-year old kid.

Switch the heat back on. Please.

Home Hunting

Craigslist is a super incredible apparatus for folks like me looking for things, like a new home. Hundreds of listings, of absolutely everything. From random hookups to secondhand mattresses.

I've been looking for a new home here in my new city for a week now. Lots of places, but moving to a new city is daunting and not knowing the various neighborhoods could easily hamper you. So I looked at a few, decided on two, paid a deposit on one. THIS one. Lots of space. Super cool. Very artsy. Some would even say pretentious. To them I say, jealousy is ugly and so are you!

Yes avid readers, I shall be moving into a loft. High ceilings, concrete floors, and a sketchy-as-hell neighborhood. Which is okay. It's okay because I don't plan to walk the streets like a hooker. No, I plan to spend time in my super-sized home with expose brick and a staircase that leads directly to the roof. A private roof I'll have you know! A roof from where I have a view of downtown. Okay so it's not the greatest view on earth, but I can see it.

So, this neighborhood, they say several years ago the place was littered with crack houses. Wonderful. Then the giant street sweeper came in and blew them all away. But just because the crack houses have disappeared doesn't mean the crack heads have! I met one or two of these savory characters last night when I went to pay my deposit. Scared the crap out of me. But luckily the bus stops right outside my building - which will have new stainless steel doors by the time I move in. Designed to keep the riff raff out. Now don't get me wrong, I don't dislike the riff raff. It's just that they, um, unnerve me. And being someone who refers to remain fully intact, I don't necessarily like to be unnerved.

Perhaps if I pack a weapon in m laptop bag!

Goodbye Las Vegas

Well, I'm all packed and ready to go. It's been one helluva eight months. And in that time, I have certainly seen and experienced quite a bit.

I learned during my time here that Vegas is a great place to come on vacation. But not to live. 24-hour clubbing, hookers on street corners, drinking in the streets. It's a frat boy's wet dream. But living here is something totally different. Making friends is about as difficult as keeping your ice cream from melting in the middle of August.

I've had my photo taken outside the Bellagio. But I could never afford to stay inside. I've ordered an "umbrella drink", but never staggered to a street corner and chucked my guts out.

I've walked for miles and miles, only to realize I am no closer to my destination than when I first set out.

I learned that the one arm bandits will swallow your dollar bills faster than the bleached blond on the corner of Fremont Street will ... well, you get the idea.

But perhaps the biggest lesson I learned here in vegas, is that I don't belong here. It's Disneyland in the desert. It's a city built on hopes and dreams, and while that may remain inspirational, it saddens my soul to see so many old folk tottering around with a cigarette in one hand, oxygen tank in the other, and spending their pension in a gaming hall.

They say, "What happens here stays here." Not entirely true. I'll take my Vegas experiences with me wherever I go. And just as well, I need to remember why I never want to live here again.

Goodbye Las Vegas. Your plastic charms and false promises have worn thin. If nothing else, you've been a great teacher.