The world and all the scurrying little creatures in it moves at its - and their - own dictated pace. Sometimes fast, sometimes slow, but NEVER in sync with MY pace. When is the world (and all the little scurrying creatures in it) going to realise that it needs to adjust itself to MY pace and not vice verse? I mean, come on!
If it's not some feeble octogenarian hogging the fast lane when I'm late for work, or a gossiping gaggle of tannies at the tills in Checker in Seapoint, then it's people that want something done in record time or, even better, those that don't deliver fast enough.
It's that time of year when the whole world wants to conclude business by the 15th of December so they can get on with the time honoured traditions of sunning their beer boeps around a boerie braai at the cricket, or trying to kill each other on the roads en route to some coastal place where they're not welcome. Dragging their idiotic offspring and silly caravans with them. "Jinne mama. Kyk net daai seun se haar styl!"
I've hit a train-of-thought cul-de-sac...
So tonight is the last Dinner Club of the year. It's a collaborative effort. I still don't know what I'm supposed to be supplying. I took a guess and decided to buy a very large jar of apple sauce (we're having gammon) and promptly forgot to buy it when I went to the shops. Maybe I'll pick something up on the way. I might be in the dwang otherwise...
In other news, today marks the anniversary of the needless and tragic death of a true rock legend. R.I.P. Dimebag - you are still fondly remembered and sorely missed. Wonder what his thoughts would have been on Wubstep.
NGDG: "I would appreciate due warning before the common area has its fecundity enhanced with bovine excrement."
Spread The Love. On A Vaalie. With A Half Brick.
[*Disclaimer: Except the Vaalies I know.]