There's a plant that decided to grow into my bathroom.
I'm sure there are some mornings when I'm sure it wishes it hadn't.
Wednesday 19 April 2017
Tuesday 18 April 2017
That's HRH to you
So we all know that you can be straight or gay or bi or he-she or she-he or transvestite or transgender or all of the above but, today, I heard a woman say she was trans-black. So basically, she was a black person born to white parents.
So I kinda figured out that if that is, in fact, a thing then I must be trans-princess. So, what this means, dear readers, is that I am actually a princess born into a life of advertising and, therefore, deserve a castle, some horses and loads of land upon which I can frolic. Oh, and possibly a tiara.
Just give me a ring when you're ready.
Thanks.
Thursday 13 April 2017
Dumb and dumber.
So ornithologists and mammalologists and reptilologists (ew) are always telling us how clever animals are and that they have instincts and genetic savvy. They carefully explain about navigation systems, courting, nesting, migrating, webs and so on and so forth.
Well, I'm here to tell you it's not really true. Some animals are seriously dumb. Let's take rabbits. I think the only reason their gene pool survived is because of high humping tendencies and very little to do with brains.
I had two rabbits. Emphasis on had. Mr Cuddles (who it turned out was gender fluid) and Phoebe. I was given them by a 'friend' who thought my daughter would love to look after the cute little furry things. As a mother, this 'friend' should have known better. I won't lie - they were cute. To look at. Their sanitary habits were something else. But I digress.
I couldn't bear to keep them in a hutch so I rabbit-proofed my back yard and let them lollop around there. I modified the hutch so they could hop in to nap or snuggle in the hay. Hell, I even built them a cunning second one in case they wanted some alone time. They were cosy, waterproof and built with love. The rabbits, however, chose to get sun stroke and hypothermia. It was so irritating - they would literally sit, next to the hutch in the pouring rain too dumb to go inside. At first I thought it was because the hutches may not have met their exacting leporine standards so I added more hay, hung a few pictures and installed Dstv. No. It wasn't enough. Or perhaps it was too much. Anyway they escaped one day and, as I mentioned before, it didn't end well.
My second example, and I'm sure that National Geographic won't be calling this a definitive study, is a frog that's a few warts short of a prince. I live in beautiful estate with loads of open spaces, there's a river, mud - frog bliss. My garden isn't bad either - it's quite big, a bit overgrown and has a million mosquitoes living in the undergrowth. So where goes the frog live? In my spare plastic bags in the recycling bin outside. Maybe it's evolving to live in our polluted world or it's plain crazy. I fear the latter as the other day I tried to move it into the garden and it actually growled at me as I tried to lower the container on its side. I'm serious, an actual growling noise. I figured it must know what it wanted so I put it back upright and left it. After all, who am I to mess with mother nature and her clever creatures?
Post script: As I sit here writing this during Tropical Storm Dineo, Gauteng Edition, I found said frog in the kitchen. I have no idea how it got in - I don't have a frog flap - but it's under the washing machine now. Sigh.
Well, I'm here to tell you it's not really true. Some animals are seriously dumb. Let's take rabbits. I think the only reason their gene pool survived is because of high humping tendencies and very little to do with brains.
I had two rabbits. Emphasis on had. Mr Cuddles (who it turned out was gender fluid) and Phoebe. I was given them by a 'friend' who thought my daughter would love to look after the cute little furry things. As a mother, this 'friend' should have known better. I won't lie - they were cute. To look at. Their sanitary habits were something else. But I digress.
I couldn't bear to keep them in a hutch so I rabbit-proofed my back yard and let them lollop around there. I modified the hutch so they could hop in to nap or snuggle in the hay. Hell, I even built them a cunning second one in case they wanted some alone time. They were cosy, waterproof and built with love. The rabbits, however, chose to get sun stroke and hypothermia. It was so irritating - they would literally sit, next to the hutch in the pouring rain too dumb to go inside. At first I thought it was because the hutches may not have met their exacting leporine standards so I added more hay, hung a few pictures and installed Dstv. No. It wasn't enough. Or perhaps it was too much. Anyway they escaped one day and, as I mentioned before, it didn't end well.
My second example, and I'm sure that National Geographic won't be calling this a definitive study, is a frog that's a few warts short of a prince. I live in beautiful estate with loads of open spaces, there's a river, mud - frog bliss. My garden isn't bad either - it's quite big, a bit overgrown and has a million mosquitoes living in the undergrowth. So where goes the frog live? In my spare plastic bags in the recycling bin outside. Maybe it's evolving to live in our polluted world or it's plain crazy. I fear the latter as the other day I tried to move it into the garden and it actually growled at me as I tried to lower the container on its side. I'm serious, an actual growling noise. I figured it must know what it wanted so I put it back upright and left it. After all, who am I to mess with mother nature and her clever creatures?
Post script: As I sit here writing this during Tropical Storm Dineo, Gauteng Edition, I found said frog in the kitchen. I have no idea how it got in - I don't have a frog flap - but it's under the washing machine now. Sigh.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)