Working and Living in South Africa
Apparently half of the Blackberry world is experiencing a painful RIM blackout!
No Twitter, BBM, Facebook, WordPress Apps or e-mail for that matter.
The problem is being experienced in the whole of Africa, Europe and Asia.
I must admit I used a few choice words aimed at Vodacom, but it isn’t their fault this time.
Hopefully they’ll sort themselves out soon.
Sometimes – not too often these days – (thank goodness!) – I find myself acting like a 10 year old.
Over reacting, tantrums, the works!
I thought I was the only one on the planet who let her emotions get the better of her, because everyone else always seem to be so much in control.
That was until last week Tuesday.
For all non Champions League soccer followers this is what happened:
Manchester City, an English football club was playing against Bayern Munich a German club. The English club were losing and obviously not happy about it.
But they had their former captain (and serial complainer) Carlos Tevez in reserve to save the day.
Only problem was that he refused to get off the bench!
Now any person – soccer fan or not – who has seen 10 minutes of soccer, watched Footballers Wives or who follow footballers on Twitter will know that they are a spoiled bunch of (mostly) immature, uneducated millionaires. Most of who would have been in prison had they not been able to kick a ball.
So the footballer’s tantrum isn’t the surprise…
It’s manager of a multi-million Rand soccer team and the club itself who collectively acted like a bunch of 10 year old.
You would expect that instead of whining in the press they would have acted decisively by quickly suspending the player and starting their disciplinary processes.
Quite like what would happen if you or I decided to not fullfil our employment obligations.
Not them.
Obviously the club knew the player wasn’t happy before they went onto the field. We read all about it in the press over and over again.
Yet they allowed him to put them in an embarrassing situation.
Now that he is suspended and will likely face a heavy fine, this richest club in England has apparently taken away Carlos Tevez’s jersey number and given it a reserve goalkeeper.
What’s next? Sticking their tongues out every time he passes by.
Now that’s maturity!
It’s true what they say. The make-up gods work in mysterious ways. In this case, the Estee Lauder gods.
It all started about a week or so ago when I received my August 2011 Fairlady magazine in the post.
A whole month had gone by since the last one and I was ready for hungry for anything fashion and beauty related. Minus the celebrity stuff!
So I paged through my brand new magazine with its free gift consisting of a container with Nivea cream, which I tossed aside and a little sachet of Nescafe Gold – a more welcomed gift.
But I digress again…
Two items stood out in the magazine. Estee Lauder’s tinted day cream and a CyberWhite brightening UV protector.
It seemed like just the two products needed to make me feel like a million bucks. Winter, remember, is not my friend.
But going to the Estee Lauder counter can be very intimidating. Movies have been made about ladies who make their living on the other side of make- up counters and their treatment of people like me.
But then later in the week I followed my friend’s Facebook feed to Estee Lauder’s fan page.
Oh my word…it was like discovering a
new world. I felt like Jan van Riebeeck, Christopher Columbus and Marco Polo must have felt.
And the Estee Lauder people offered free stuff too!!! Hello!
Free Advanced Night cream samples and free foundation samples. All you had to do is visit your nearest Estee Lauder counter.
So this morning after double-checking my August edition of Fairlady for the names of the two products, I set out to Claremont to make my skin glow.
I pointed out exactly what I wanted to the consultant – who turned out to be just the right amount of friendly.
She offered me a sample of another day cream and then I asked for the sample of foundation they advertised on Facebook.
She made me sit on a chair and held a chart against my skin to gauge the correct colour. And the she took out a brush and started adding layers of colours on top of the foundation.
Pink eye shadow to my eyes and paech blusher to my lips.
I was so shocked by her niceness that I just let her do her thing. Even when a little boy came and watched proceedings.
From some unknown place in my core being, I found my voice and asked for the Advanced Night Cream sample as well.
I left the store with bloodshot eyes, made even worse by the pink eyeshadow.
I was thinking about whether to write about politics again – with the elections coming up on 18 May.
The first time I blogged about it in 2009 was so much fun, it provided me with the direction I wanted take this blog.
Oh, the nostalgia!
The late night debates with people who were as likely to change their votes as I was. But to be fair there were one or two who were conflicted about who to vote for and why.
I was called an idiot a few times. A lot of times by one person, in particular.
That upset people close to me, but I didn’t mind one bit.
I banned him eventually. The first and only time I had to ban someone on this blog.
I gave as good as I got most of the time, though.
But since then the fun has pretty much gone out of political discussions. The vitriol is not something I want in my life anymore.
Come 18 May, I will be voting ANC, as I usually do. There is no doubt in my mind this time.
The alternatives are not an option for me. Maybe if the Independent Democrats were truly independent they might have been an option.
The Democratic Alliance has no chance at all of getting my vote.
So with decision made, there is nothing left to discuss. We (and I include myself here) are no longer open to others opinions.
Which is a pity, because it seems like we’re as polarised as the USA and other countries. There is no middle ground anymore.
The Congress of the People might have provided that option, but since their spectacular rise and fall, we’re left with only two real choices.
My decision about whether to blog about politics or not, was up in the air until yesterday when Gareth Cliff’s Facebook feed appeared on my screen.
All he did was to wish President Zuma a happy birthday, but the responses he received were mind-blowingly rude!
Who are these people who are so mean-spirited they can’t wish someone a happy birthday? Are they in the shopping malls I frequent, do I pass them on the streets? Are they family, friends, colleagues or neighbours?
So that was that.
I would prefer to live on my little cloud and believe the lie we told the world during FIFA’s soccer world cup in 2010, when we provided them images of us as a nation of smiling faces.
As you might have noticed from the topic title, I’m in search of a guru.
Like any self-respecting modern day woman, I recently logged onto Twitter and typed #guru in the search bar.
Truth be told, I would prefer not to meet my guru in person. (I read Eat, Pray, Love if you are wondering.) And Twitter just seemed right for that.
But good heavens! How many geek gurus are there on this planet?
And more importantly, how did the world function without them up to now?
I’m not however in the market for twenty year old gurus with ideas of becoming the next Mark Zuckerberg.
Charlie Sheen was another popular option. He has apparently man alone invigorating the US economy.
While I might need a financial guru that is not what I’m currently looking for.
Plus I’m not sure if Charlie is as crazy as a loon or a brilliant warlock…uhmmm marketer.
My target needs to be something more…substantial, however. But not too substantial.
Someone who can guide me spiritually. But not direct me to a religion.
Someone who doesn’t use the word spiritual. Or wear sandals. Unless it’s a she and the sandals have heals. High heals if possible.
It would also help if said guru didn’t look like a guru. Or speak like a guru.
Definitely no incense!
So my search continues…for now.
Somewhere out there (on Twitter) there has to be someone who can dolt out great advice and words of wisdom in 140 characters or preferably less.
Is that too much to ask?
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