Wednesday, 29 May 2013

The first time I ran...

I wish I could say, "The first time I ran a race", but that was when I was seven and Heavens forbid I have to relive those terrible memories.  School athletics days will NEVER have a fond memory in my mind.

No, this is the first time I ran away.  Like, from my manager.

I will admit it openly now.  I am rather embarrassed by it.  But as it stands, I officially ran away from my manager by not coming in to work yesterday.  I didn't lie when I told her I haven 't been feeling very well lately and that I wanted to rest; I just didn't tell her that I also needed a rest from her.  She's really draining in such a non-subtle way that it's amazing anyone can ever work with her.  On the other hand, mayhap that's why she ran the shop alone for so long - it isn't that they couldn't find anyone to work with her, maybe the Universe was telling them no one was ready for her yet.

So what does that make me, then?  An experimental toffee?  Some days it feels like it.  Things are so quiet here it gets ridiculously boring.  It even affects my studying and reading during the few times I don't need to study.

Do you know what the stinker is?  When Madam was ill and then off for her church conference I made close to R 30,000 worth of sales, with a few follow-ups from those same customers afterwards.  I mean. how amazing is that?

Aaaaannnd then she's back and all the customers disappear.  Seriously?  Whiskey Tango Foxtrot - what's the big idea?!

 Oh!  But then, Monday and today, we had real shiners.  Monday Gl and I are sitting here, doing our thing (me reading webcomics and she doing her puzzles) when this woman barges in here talking a mile a minute about Pan knows what and eventually, after five or six minutes of this vocal bombarding, she slows down enough for me to realise, oh, wait, she wants some of our stuff for a gay exhibition of products (her words) for the end of July.  I then, as per my job, explained to her that she actually needs to speak to the Warehouse because I'm not allowed to authorise loans or exhibitions of our products at all and they might.  She then asks who to speak to and I, again as per my job, explain that it's basically whoever's there, but speak to M and he will then direct her to the person of the moment to speak to.  Does she not get harregat for that?  "Who do I speak to?" she says again.  "Martin," I reply again.  "Who do I speak to, Dieter!?" she asks really snobbily, and I just-just manage to keep my cool and tell her, "Martin."  When she asked again I used her own tone of voice on her.  The dumb bitch immediately stands up, looks me in the eye and says, "You're an arrogant little fucker, aren't you?"

Ken jy vir my?

"Well, then so are you," I say.

She turns and walks out, muttering about me being an arrogant little fucker the whole time, and I'm just, like, "Have a nice day!"  She walks around the corner and doesn't shut the fuck up about me all the way past the shop, even nodding at me at one point.  Of course I returned the nod.  What pissed me off is when the stupid **** tore up our brochure, instead of just leaving the thing or something like that for someone who actually wants it.

A bit earlier on the same basic thing happens.  A gentleman comes in from Zabad and says he likes our planters, blah blah blah, who can he speak to?  I give him the same story I gave the lady:  speak to M, he's authorised to work with phone-in clients and direct their calls and queries as he may.  The dude then asks, who's the owner of the company?  At this point Sylvia stood up and told him, as per our jobs, that we aren't allowed to give out their names or details under any circymstances, that he will have to speak to M.  The man looks at us and says flat-out, youre the first company ever that don't want to give me the owners' names.  We explained, it isn't so much we don't want to, we aren't allowed to.  He then went on about how he deals only directly with companies' owners because he negotiates special rates and trade discounts with them and so forth and such a wind, then he handed us back our brochures and walked out.

I only have one thing to ask Deity:  I've now worked twice this week, and both times I've had a customer get funny.  Goddess, is this going to be the trend for the week?

Friday, 17 May 2013

Some things that can be discussed, some that shouldn't, and why I forgot my knickers this morning

Gooooooooood mooooorrrrniiiiiiiiinnnnnngg!!

How is everyone this fine and lovely Friday morning?  Today's date, in case you're reading this later on, is Friday the 17th of May of the Julian calender year of 2013.

Hee hee!  Rather a mouthful, innit?

Gosh, had another restless night last night, so I do apologise beforehand for any spelling or grammatical errors you pick up.  As Xsjana says, often it's caused by stress, but I think last night was caused by a mixture of stress and excitement.  Let me explain:  Things are a bit on the stressful side for me because a part of my salary is made up out of commissions for pots I sell.  I'm not sure of the exact percentage, but it isn't huge.  I have reason to complain about that.  The centre we're in (Cape Quarter Lifestyle Village) is rather quiet nine days out of seven.  The most successful store here is the Gourmet Spar downstairs - if I have it right the only Gourmet Spar in the country.  IF I have it right.  Lately the CRAFT moments have been increasing in frequency.  Luckily, I almost always have a notebook on-hand in case I really feel I'll miss or lose something important out of my sieve, and there's more than enough scrap paper in the shop for those annoying little "In Case" Factors that have to be taken into consideration.  Anyway, in a normal month, the absolute BULK of my salary goes into just getting to work.  In Table View that didn't bother me much, but living out in Dune Fountain means that I have to take a bus two hours before I start working, and by the time it picks me up outside it reminds me of a tin of anchovies.  At least sardines have some dignity.

Anyway.  I'm not trying to seem ungrateful; I'm just highly frustrated.

On that note, it's now time for the exciting stuff.

My friend Cawyn works for the Cape Town branch of Amazon.com.  Yes, can you believe it!  But, before you get too happy about being able to order from them, etc, I'm going to have to burst your bubble.  The CT branch deals exclusively in customer queries and such-like things.  I've asked my tjom for details, but it doth appear she be preoccupiedified.  That's cool, I have a whole blog to catch up with this stuff on.  Anyway, Amazon apparently recruit over the June/July period.  I'm holding thumbs in a BIG way.  Yes, it is in Town again, but at least I'll be earning enough to justify the work.  And as my friend tells me, there's lots of room for growth and promotion.

From what I understand, the selection process involves tests, one of which involves being able to understand the different American accents.  I think I would do quite OK - I mean, we do have MNet at home, and most movie stars nowadays are Americans.  Right?  Neh?

LOL.

Time for some things that shouldn't be discussed.  So, why, you might ask, am I discussing them?  Ag, sommer because I can.

What is it that shouldn't be discussed?  Easy:  Sex-related jewellery.  <Snicker!>

Yes, sex related jewellery can be quite interesting, as I've recently discovered.  There's such a variety, and while much of it has the same basic function, some have minor details or addtional thingies either added or omitted.  Take, for instance, the cock ring.  It does exactly what it sounds like it does.  It gets worn (in "common" forms) around the entire base of the penis:  the upper base of the shaft and down the sides and lower base of the scrotum.  Damnations.  I'd love to post a pic, but since I'm using the shop's Mac, I really can't take that kind of a chance.  Not that there's anyone else staffing the place since Tuesday.  Madam was off sick Tuesday afternoon and Wednesday, and had already booked yesterday, today and tomorrow off for leave for a church conference.  So all the sales have been coming to me.  Can anyone say YAY! with me??

Anyway, back to sex talk.

You get quite a variety of cock rings.  The simplest is a detachable rubber ring that only fits around the base of the shaft to maintain an erection after it has been pumped up with a pump.  It restricts the flow of blood out of the penis and thus keeps it hard enough for anyone who has erectile dysfunction to... well, function.  Another version has little "beads" all around the ring of it that press in as knot would press in a length of strangling-rope (morbid, I know, but the only workable model my brain could grab at).  Don't ask me what the beads in these single-layer rings are actually for - I'd rather not lie.

Speaking of beads, you get a funny little beaded sleevy thing for the penis called a stroker.  I think.  I'm looking it up on Google Mobile quickly...  But how this is worn is over the shaft only, and it's a rather wide thing, and the beads are there to help one stroke the penis better.  I've been thinking that, as soon as I have some spare dosh, maybe I should buy and try one.  My feline curiosity doesn't seem to want to let go of this one...

I saw an image of a cock ring design to hold pack a foreskin not long ago.  (Naturally, I was doing a Wikipedia search to learn about these things).  It doesn't look too comfortable, of the image is anything to go by.  In fact, it looks like the mouthpiece of an emergency CPR breather without the bag over.  Those little wings just do NOT seem right...  <shudder>

I've been hearing quite a bit on cock rings with built-in vibrators and I saw one the other day (not, I realised, for the first time, either).  The one this place had was made of pink silicon, I suppose since the number of people allergic to latex is quite high.  The vibrator part is this odd little pill-shaped piece hanging off the bottom of it.  Looking at it, I'm guessing that sits under and presses into the prostate.  Has anyone here ever used one before?  I'd like to know what the experience is like, please.

Sticking to the down-low, a very close friend of mine has been talking of possibly getting a Prince Albert.  For those not in the know, a Prince Albert (or PA) is a penile piercing running through the eye of the penis and out the bottom edge of the glans.  This is also called a cock ring, so if anyone ever speaks or asks about a cock ring, be sure they know the difference between the literal ring and the PA piercing.  I said that ultimately it's up to him.  Penile piercings apparently heal quite fast, and I know another friend of mine got his and was told not to use his schlong for a week or two, but he hooked up with someone that same night, and a few condoms later everything was still a-OK.  What are your views on genital piercings?  Personally, I'm completely neutral, so long as the thing doesn't make impede biology.

Right, I believe I mentioned knickers... or rather, a lack of knickers.  Simply put, J and I overslept a wee littley-bitty this morning (remember the sleepless night?) and when the alarm went off made the mistake of snoozing it - twice!  So, at 5.55 am mom-in-law knocks on the door to wake us, since the alarms failed.  OMG!  I'm up and out of that room so fast I didn't even raise dust.  Hair washed and teeth brushed, I teleport back to the room and get dressed, nicely shirt and a new pair of sock and all that jazz.  It was only when we were half-way to Table View that I realised, Oops - no undies!  I didn't figure any into my extreme-speed getting done.

Oh, well.  At least things can breath now.

OH!  Before I go, one last thing.

Depending on both my bus and my route/mood, there are two places I walk past regularly.  One is called Bakoven and for my life I can't figure out whether it's German or Dutch, or something else entirely.  It certainly isn't French.  Mm, they regularly have caramel-ified smells filling that space between Engen and the building they're in.  This morning was no different, and it made me hate them just a little bit.  Just, you know, a really tiny little bit.  Because their stuff always smells so fecking good and I haven't had the chance to sample any yet!!  :'(

Here's a pic of them:



So if, you know, you want to surprise me or anything with a treat or some such...

This below is a place on Waterkant Street, literally right on the Fanwalk.  Espresso Bar Gelateria.  They have this KILLER Austrian hot chocolate - the barista always just calls it Kakao, which is (duh) the base name for chocolate.  It's thick, and smooth, and creamy, and the best part about it besides its absolutely addictive taste is that you don't need to add any sugar whatsoever.  The option is there, but I've not needed to add anything extra at any time I have one.  Please, go give them a try - they are SO worth it!


Righto, I'm off.  I've been pretending to be busy for long enough now (I said to no customer), so I reckon it's about time I go and give my attention to some other endeavour.

I love you all!

Friday, 10 May 2013

Pubic regrowth is a bitch!

No matter what anyone tells you, or tries to tell you, or drugs and tells you, or even hypnotises and tells you, having your pubes grow back after a few days hurts like the dickens!  Not so much in the actual "eish eina" way, but the itching and the sharp little pains as your undies rub over the skin and then the pants (or skirts) or whatever that you wear over that area  just HAVE to go and contribute to the itching and the scratchiness and and and...

<Deep breath!>

So that's what's been on my mind of late.  Pretty horrible, I know, and completely not usually what's making noise in my upper head.

Had any good lollipops lately?

Something that has been bothering me is old songs.  "On Top of Spaghetti" is a firm favourite, outdone only by "You are my Sunshine", with Tom Jones and his "What's New, Pussycat?" floating in and out of my consciousness.  OMG, the noise these three are making!  I tell you, kattekore have nothing on this lot.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,
You make me happy
When skies are grey!
I lost my poor meeeeeeaaaatbaaaaaaaallll
When somebody sneeeeeeeezed!
It rolled off the taaaaaaable and onto the flooooooooor!
Pussycat, pussycat, I love you, yes, I do!!"