Be careful what you wish for...

So, in yesterday's post I wished that I could somehow speed up time and that my day could come to an end sooner so that I could go home. Well, it happened. But not in a good way...

I was supposed to go to gym with a few friends after university yesterday. And because I got my wish, I was late for it.

The end.

Well, that's 10 hours you'll never get back...

It's been one of those days. The kind where you end up doing loads of admin but feel that you have achieved absolutely nothing all day. I've been doing statistics for undergraduate students all day, which has been a pain. Mostly because they have no idea what's going on but insist on asking about the most arbitrary points in the hope that I will somehow think that they have a clue.

Now, ask anyone, my stats knowledge is not amazing, but I do know a few things. That's why I got so ticked off with one pair of sibling students that came, with the rest of their group, to sort out their stats. In all fairness, the one sibling had some common sense, so my frustration wasn't directed at them both, only the dumb one...

She kept trying to come up with 'practical' (read: lazy-ass) solutions to her stats in an effort to have to do less work. She also kept asking really stupid questions like, 'When you say we should make a bar graph with the averages for each variable plotted according to the times they were sampled, what do you mean?', to which I would answer with, 'Well, basically plot a bar graph with the averages for each variable plotted according to the times they were sampled...'

And, to add to the unbelievably annoying nature of the individual, she has a lip-ring. Now, I personally am not against the idea of lip piercings (Quite the opposite! I wanted to get one for myself!), and the design of her ring is simple and silver, but somehow, it just makes this individual SO much mor obnoxious and annoying! It's amazing!

So, having done the stats and a little admin, I'm sitting at my desk, hoping that somehow, just for today, time will speed up and the end of the day will suddenly be upon me, forcing me home...

Off to youtube then to be unproductive!

Woo-HOO!

I recieved my confirmation email for my acceptance to attend the conference in France later this year! I'm so excited! It's a conference on animal behaviour in Rennes, France, which I applied to attend with a poster presentation on the work that I've done with the chimpanzees here in Johannesburg. It'll be my first ever conference where I am presenting something, my first trip to France AND the first time I've ever used a credit-card! I'm SO psyched!

In addition to this, I'm super-excited because it'll give me a chance to visit some amazing places and see some friends who I've not seen in a long time! Laura and Tomkins...watch out!

That's about all I have to say for the moment. My brain has breathed its last for today and so I'm going to head home shortly...

...excuse the pun.

P.S. I had to help two of my 3rd year student groups with the statistics on their projects that they have been doing at the zoo over the last few months and for the first time in my life, I think I actually kinda knew what it was that I was doing! It's a fantastic feeling when you finally grasp stats! Any sane person who has ever done them will be able to understand...

Clustermaps!

Wow...I just looked at my clustermap thingy! I've had 3 170 people view my blog since I started up in 2007! That's awesome! You guys ROCK! Thanks for making me feel imporant in an internet-microcosm sorta way!

I'm awesome...It's that simple, really... ;P

Hi!

So, Sarah has given me an award! YAY! The idea is that I now write 7 things about myself which make me the fantastic individual I am and then pass on the award to 7 others. To elaborate on the title of this post, I shall provide some examples below...

I rock because:

1. I'm witty. Or at least, so I am told by others. Sometimes I doubt the sanity of some of those who accuse me of being witty, but overall, I humbly (because that's the kind of person I am, humble... :D ) accept the complement and move on with my life...


2. I can get passionately excited about almost anything. Seriously. It's a pain some of the time because I tend to get all excited and nobody else seems to feel that way, so I feel a bit of a nutter...


3. I am brimming with useless facts! Really! I was actually famous during my undergraduate years for this. I would sprout forth with all manner of redundant trivia to my bemused colleagues whenever I felt the need. It's actually all because of watching Discovery Channel and National Geographic documentaries. And they say TV is bad for you! Hah! Ideal example: did you know that a pumpkin, by the strictest definition of the term, is actually a berry?


4. I have good taste! Or at least, I like to think so. My friends are all fantastic people, I like the colour green (You can't go wrong with green! It's timeless! Like black!) AND I am impermeable to distasteful trends in fashion and music (Down with pop-music!).


5. At this point I would like to say that I am seriously struggling to write this. I hate tooting my own horn...Also, blogger is being stupid and can't stop numbering stuff, so this doesn't count as one of my points, I just can't stop the stupid website from doing that! Aargh!


6. I'm in love with post-its! They are just about the most amazing invention ever! Step aside wheel!


7. I'm multi-talented! Not only am I a brilliant scientist in the making, but I write and compose my own music too!


8. I love art-house movies! There is something particularly nice about watching something that actually makes you think every once in a while. I do enjoy vegetating in front of the tele every now and again too, but the deep stuff is more my style.

Wow...I think I was kinda scraping the bottom of the barrel for some of those, but at least I got something in there...So I would like to award this SUPA-AMAZING PERSON award to the following: Jenny, Megan, Eebee, Athena, Helen, Laura and last, but certainly not least, Tomkins.

Nice picture for the day:

On music

Ironically, without intending to do so I have chosen the same topic for today's post as Eebee did for his. Actually, it's not the same exactly, but along similar lines. For me it was all brought about by my arriving at my lab to discover that our cleaning lady, Sarah, was working away at polishing our countertops, with her cell-phone blaring gospel music in that tiny-distorted cell-phone kinda way. While I certainly have nothing against gospel music, I was a little taken aback at the fact that she felt that it was okay to play music in my office while I was trying to work. But I digress...

In addition to the above musical incident, I was listening to the latest Dido album today for the first time. It's really not bad! My friend David had listened to it and warned me that the vast majority of the album was rubbish but there were one or two tracks that were worthwhile. While I certainly think that there are no tracks on the album (so far...) that are nearly as catchy as some of her previous stuff, it's really not as bad as he made it out to be!

After reading Eebee's post about his top 5 most annoying music 'artists', I feel I have to put my ten cents worth in and rant a little. I have to agree that Nickleback has to be one of the most annoying bands on the planet! They have produced a grand total of about 2 original songs, figured 'Hey! This works!' and decided to clone them for the following 6 ALBUMS!!!

Now, no offense to fans, but they also exploit something in every teenage girl which drives me nuts! They write their songs as these soppy lyrics, masquerading as a rock band. Someone, please have a child by them so that they can go the way of all musicians who have children; an subsequent album with songs riddled with soppy titles like, 'My little angel', following which their career takes a nose dive, never to recover. The world would be a better place! I promise!

Then, Coldplay. I think that both Nickleback and Coldplay suffer from the same problem. Neither are able to inject a smidgen of originality into their music! But I shan't repeat the above rant for them too...

Next on my hate-list is Jay-Z. This man is about as musical as a jack-hammer. While I certainly consider most rappers with disdain due to the fact that what they do is NOT music, his tracks in particular irritate me because of their shallowness and lack of variability. While the backtracks for many of them are really quite good, and in some rare cases, generate that instant tapping foot thing that happens with a good beat, the fact that he 'sings' about how awesome he is and how much money he has, makes me sick. How insecure can you be as a person to feel confident about 'singing' your own praises?!

Then there is the beloved Akon. While I take pride in the fact that he is a fellow African and thus feel a certain kinship with the man, and apart from his various inappropriate stage cavortings with underage children, I would compare his voice to that of a toddler having a temper-tantrum. What possessed music executives to sign him on, is beyond me. What also amazes me is how many people actually like his music! It's amazing!

And thus, I shall end my rant. Sorry to any of you readers who are fans. These are just my opinions and I am a firm believer that music taste is an individual matter and shouldn't be a measure of a persons character.

Cause of death: Library shelf

Ten points Megs! ;)

Earlier this week I was diligently writing away at my dissertation. I have really been struggling to get myself to even open the file on my computer lately because I'm so terrified about the idea of having to write it all up and finish my masters degree. But somehow, I plucked up the courage to open it and had actually started writing, when I discovered that I needed a reference. So I did what all lazy post-grad students do: I searched the net for one.

I tend to use a site called science-direct, because the papers that it turns up are the best quality in my field and are generally up to date. So while searching through this site, I came across a paper that I thought could be very useful. There was only one problem. The university doesn't subscribe to that journal.

So, being overly dramatic, I threw my arms up in horror and wailed to my lab-mates about how my life was ruined and that I might as well just give up and open a hot-dog stand because that was my only hope of succeeding at anything in life. Or something to that effect...When Megan, being the voice of sanity and in the process totally killing all the fun of wailing about the meaninglessness of my existence, suggested that I just look on Google Scholar.

I did that and discovered, to partial relief that there was no such article on the web. So I turned to the solution of the non-lazy post-grad: The library.

Our university has a library web site that allows one to search for items based with relative ease. Occasionally you wonder whether the site was actually designed by a pot-plant, given the ridiculous answers it can produce to your queries, but overall, it's really not bad. I searched for the article and discovered that it was located in one of the universities 7 libraries. Which one? I had no idea. It was in a journal called 'The Journal of Comparative and Physiological Psychology', which as it turned out was discontinued. The reason being that the journal had actually split into several other journals.

Now, the way the library system works here, you are directed through the all-knowing site to a particular library and given the shelf number for what you are looking for. In this case, neither the library, nor the shelf number were evident. So, I assumed that it would most likely be located at the same library where all the psychology journals live and headed there.

I arrived at the library and asked one of the librarians at the front desk if they could help me. After explaining my woes, the librarian looked up at me and, in a sweet but obviously couldn't-give-a-rats-ass tone, asked 'Have you tried looking on the Internet?'. A little annoyed at the patronisation, I told them that I had and had found nothing. They smiled and proceeded to look on the Internet and then tell me all about how they had found nothing.

Defeated, the librarian passed me onto another of her kind. This one repeated the condescending procedure, complete with couldn't-give-a-rats-ass tone and the Internet search. Eventually, having given up, and leaving me feeling a little frustrated, he suggested I go speak to the woman upstairs who was in charge of journals.

We climbed the stairs and approached her desk. After making a half-hearted attempt to explain my saga to her (I'm not kidding! He started speaking to her in another language and, with apparent frustration turned to me and said, 'Tell her your problem...'), she began to try and help me. Her first response: 'Have you looked on the Internet?'

In all fairness, she was much more helpful than the last two had been. She managed to decipher the search results on the library site and discovered that the journal was indeed held in that library. She also managed to find the shelf number for me. So, having found the info we needed, this unlikely couple, a skinny white boy and a rather rotund black librarian, plodded off to the basement of the library where the journals reside.

Once in the basement, a sanctuary for the socially inept and dust mites, we began to check the shelf numbers on the rolling shelves for the section that I sought. For those who have never encountered rolling shelves, they are a fantastic invention, essentially a set of normal library shelves set on railway-like tracks which can be pushed back and forth on the tracks. This allows the library to have many more shelves and books for the same amount of space. The only real down side is that if you move the shelves, you can only really access one section of books at a time. And, any normal person who uses them cannot help but imagine that some unsuspecting student may move the shelves when you are in one of the temporary aisles, crushing you in the process.

The pair of us eventually found the section we were looking for and started to push the shelves back so that we could access the books held within. As we were doing this, we discovered that one of the shelves was stuck! This meant that the maximum space that was available for me to access the journals was an aisle about 40cm wide. Immediately, the librarian decided that she would go seek help and left me at the mercy of the dust mites (the socially inept aren't all that likely to attack, you know, the whole 'they're more afraid of you than you are of them' saga, so you're fairly safe around them...)

Up until then, the whole book-hunting ordeal had taken up about 30min of my time and so I decided to risk becoming human paper and entered the 40cm chasm that we had created in the wall of books. I frantically scanned the book spines on the shelves before me, all the while images of some mildly surprised individual 40 years down the line opening up the shelf as a crispy, paper-thin Luke floated down from the recently separated shelves. To my horror, I realised that the book I sought was located on the very bottom shelf at the end of the aisle. I could never get to it in this scenario as that would require that I be able to kneel down, a feat impossible with only 40cm of space in which to move. Reluctantly I retreated to the outside, resolved to wait for help to arrive.

As I exited the aisle, both the librarian and I, completely unaware of one another's presence there gasped as the two of us nearly collided. She had returned with one of the other librarians and was looking to see if I'd been foolish enough to enter the aisle just as I had been exiting. After some embarrassed apologies, we turned to the second librarian for an education in moving rolling shelves. As it turned out, all we had to do was pull the shelf along with the shelf before it. So we did this and it worked! Thanking the man sheepishly, I returned to the now decently sized space that had been created in search of my book. I managed to grab it and with my librarian assistant, headed back up to the main checkout desk to take the book out.

We arrived at the desk and we discovered, to my horror, that I was actually the first person, since the libraries on campus had gone digital to even look for the book, never mind take it out. So this meant that it wasn't even catalogued in the library system. Screaming on the inside, I graciously passed the book over to my assistant librarian who, with a jolly looking smile, waddled over to the lift to take the book up for cataloguing on the forth floor.

She returned about 10 min later, after I had been asked several times by clueless undergraduates whether I would let them print documents from the computer at the desk behind me, with the tome in tow. She had managed to get it catalogued and it was ready for me to take out! Jumping for joy on the inside I thanked her profusely and had the book checked out. The whole thing had taken 45 min but I finally had what I was looking for!

I got back to my lab and scanned the article, using our school's Bizhub (I am in love with a machine...). Once I was at the safety of my desk, I read through the paper. It was only then that I realised, as I read, that the article was almost completely useless to me...

Sci-bono!

So, for some time, Athena, Duncan and I have been trying to organise between the three of us to go on a photographic expedition. After a half-baked attempt (my sisters fault...), we finally organised between ourselves and went on one on Freedom day (public holidays are more conducive to expeditions...you find you have the time...). So we went to Newtown, and discovered the 'Sci-bono', only the most amazingly fun museum in all of Johannesburg! It's a science museum that comprises loads of fun experimental exhibits for kids to engage with. It's SO much fun! Check out our pics!

Outside the Sci-bono! The unassuming building that houses hours of fun!

Expressionism has never been this easy!

Part Luke, part Duncan...Oh the horror!

It's her only chance to be tall. In her words, 'I look like a model!' Well, sorta... ;)

I have clones! Thousands of them!

This puzzle took us, three adults, about half an hour to finish! Does it reflect on us, or the difficulty of the puzzle?

Entrance to the banking quarter...apparently it's illegal to take photos there, but nobody told us that...

Apparently this was used as a promo thing for the upcoming 2010 world cup...or something...

Sk8r boi! Not... There were skaters all over outside the public library. They warranted a photo.

The Johannesburg Library. I didn't actually know it existed until that day...I kinda figured we had one, somewhere, but I had yet to see the thing.

Oggling the city from the 50th floor of the Carlton Centre. It really is amazing!

The view to the east. My house is out there somewhere...

It's amazing, but evident, that Johannesburg is the worlds largest man-made forest.

Sunset over Jozi (Johannesburg's nickname for all you non-South Africans).

Chirrup-chirrup

Working in the biology building, one tends to become accustomed to certain things, and indeed, find things that many would be surprised or horrified by, merely notable. As a good example, today Helen told me about how her and Ingrid were walking down the corridor and saw a guinea-pig-sized rat (or so they claim) scuttle into the girls bathroom. Now, for many, this would result in untold intestinal horrors and a great deal of constipation for fear of running into the bathrooms new resident. But not here! The woman of our building will continue to frequent the facilities, unfazed.

Another resident of our building (possibly only our corridor) is a black house-cricket. He's been here for some time and everyone has seen him wandering up and down the hall. We don't pay him much mind nor do we particularly hold him in poor regard. He's just our cricket.

He has frequently come to hang out in our lab, as we often leave the door wide open. He simply saunters in and usually gets met by one of us with a broom, gently showing him the way out. He only once managed to get in and hide behind the fridge, but it was a short-lived stay. I'm not sure why, but he figured the real estate we had on offer was not to his liking.

We hadn't heard or seen him in a very long time and I assumed he had come to the end of his rope and kicked the bucket, until today. I was walking off to the main office to collect some test papers that need marking and as I passed my supervisors office, I heard him. Our little cricket had set up shop in his office and was chirruping like there was no tomorrow! He was really belting forth! It was so funny!

Chuckling to myself, I headed off to the office and collected the papers. On my return, I passed his office again and discovered that someone had come to see him. The really funny part was that I couldn't hear either people over the cricket! He was really going nuts in there! I have yet to find out what my supervisor thinks of his new bunk-mate, but I get the feeling that the halls will smell of insecticide in the near future...

Crowd: Surprise! Luke: Dammit!

Today started off pretty awful. I had to be in at university at 08h00 in order to invigilate a test that the second year students were writing on tree identification. There are three major problems with this scenario. Firstly, it is at 08h00! I'm not used to being conscious any earlier than 08h00! So having to get up 2 hours before and fight the traffic wasn't the best way to start off the day...

Secondly, it's a test. So that means, no interaction with the students at all, no communication, nothing. Simply walk around the room ensuring that you look stern and making sure nobody tries to cheat. Lastly, it's freaking TREE IDENTIFICATION!!! They get books to do it all by and have over an hour in which to do it! It's really not that difficult (...unless you use that one, really crappy book, in which case, God help you because you'll never find what you are looking for...), and yet, students will sit and stare into their book, occasionally glancing at the specimen before them for more than the allotted time, and STILL fail the test! That, and it's really difficult to get enthused about trees...

Despite all the negatives of invigilating an exam, I left the test feeling content and looking forward to doing a good days-worth of work. In truth, I was also feeling a little ill after the chocolachino I'd had at the beginning of the test to try and keep me awake (I think my stomach isn't used to having to deal with a large, caffeinated, hot, 2-sachets-of-sugar'ed beverage, so early in the morn, given that I rarely drink coffee, or milk for that matter!). But I persevered and got back to my lab.

After a brief email check, I was distracted by one of those Gmail headliners linking to another site. It was one of those discovery.com links about some fossils that had recently been found on the Isle of Wight (VERY cool for those interested in such things...check it out!). After quizzing Helen's knowledge of palaeontology, I began to work.

At some stage during this all, I realised the Helen had been taking an unusually high number of bathroom breaks all morning. I was mildly concerned as to her situation, but, as one does not discuss these things, the state of her digestive system remained a mystery...

Eventually Helen decided she needed to go to the library and return a book and asked if I would like a walk. I, in hindsight, should have stayed to work, as I had by that point achieved very little in the way of actual work (Some of my friends who used to be part of the lab had arrived and we'd been chatting, catching up...you know how it is!). None the less, we departed.

After successfully returning the book, we headed back down the passage to my lab. My supervisor was standing in the corridor, as he does sometimes, and started chatting to us about something. After a little chatter, I decided that I really had better return to work and turned to open my door, but not without noticing how many people were in the room opposite mine. This, too, is fairly normal and so I didn't think much of it.

However, as I opened my door and stepped into my room, I instantly knew something was up. There were baloons everywhere and people shouting 'Surprise!'. Indeed...I was!

It turned out that Helen had organised a surprise party for my birthday on Sunday! It was really awesome! So many people showed up (which kinda weirded me out a tad, as we never have more than 10 or so people come to our surprise parties...) and it was just really nice! I was a little annoyed at myself though. I totally didn't see it coming! Normally I kinda sense that, as my birthday slowly creeps up on me, someone is bound to organise a surprise party! They always do! Without fail! So 10 points to the organisers!

Thanks Helen! :)

PS. Note to self: don't eat two cupcakes and a Sparkle (A type of hard candy) in rapid succession ever again...

Suicide over statistics?

I'm going to kill myself, or my laptop. One of us has to go. And I like my laptop a lot! So I think it will have to be me...

I'm busy writing up my dissertation for my Masters degree and all has gone relatively smoothly...until now.

On Friday I produced a graph. It's a very pretty graph. It's blue and green and fits well into a document in MS Word! And yesterday (Monday, the next week) I attempted to produce a second graph of the same type, using the same program and procedure, and the damn thing won't work! I can't figure out what I have to do to get a graph! It's driving me insane! And to add insult to injury, my supervisor has promised to help me, but is nowhere to be seen!

Grumble, grumble...

...in my pants!

My drinking game career didn't get off to a good start. I think I was about 10 or so when I played my first ever drinking game. It was the Star Wars Drinking Game!

I was a huge fan of Star Wars, as was my cousin, Duncan, with whom I played the game. He'd found the rules to the game on the Internet after searching for Star Wars. So one day we decided to play the game while watching the movies.

The rules were simple; drink whenever someone says 'I've got a bad feeling about this...', 'Use the force, Luke...' and so on. Dutifully, we drank at all the appropriate times. Shortly into the movie, the first of our little bladders had given up the fight and the first bathroom break was declared. In fact, they happened with rapid succession as the film progressed. Eventually, between us, we decided that the game was not all that much fun and gave up.

You see, the problem was, neither of us actually knew what a drinking game was about, and so had spent the afternoon drinking litres of water...

My drinking game career has improved dramatically since then, and I was recently introduced to a new drinking game. The game is aptly entitled 'In my pants' and involves adding the phrase '...in my pants!' to the end of every sentence. Failure to do so requires taking a drink and as the game progresses, to invent increasingly complex and ludacris rules that must be adhered to, as one does with drinking games...When played in earnest, the game is fatal, or so I am told.

Besides it's more serious outcomes, the game is hysterical and is almost guaranteed to have you in stitches from the get go! I can say this with conviction having played it once over cocktails with friends. However, it is not always appropriate to play drinking games and thus Helen devised a way to take the game beyond the limitations of appropriate culturally determined drinking hours.

In South Africa, one of the biggest sugar producers is a company called Huletts. Their sugar can be found in little paper sachets in coffee shops and restaurants country-wide and it is these little bags of saccharine goodness that are the key to endless hours of entertainment! For on the back of the sugar packets are printed, what they term 'Words of Wisdom'.

Taken seriously, these can probably impart profound truths into the hearts of the masses, but not when in the hands of Helen or myself! The remainder of this blog will be some examples of these pearls of wisdom. The first two are examples of the lame, nauseating kinds of quotes that can be found. The rest are the kind one really wants for this game. Don't forget to add '...in my pants!' to the end of them! :D

Incurring the wrath of the gods...

Does anyone believe in the Gods of Traffic? Because if you do, please would you let me know what I did wrong this morning! I got out of bed, got dressed, did some sit-ups, had breakfast, washed up and left the house, as I always do. There was nothing particularly special about today, as far as I know, and yet, it went so horribly wrong.

I normally take the hiway to get to university after 9am as it is much faster than driving through, or around, the city to get there from where I live. But today, as I drove on the bridge that crosses over the hiway I looked over and saw that the hiway was completely jammed up. So I decided that dispite the fact that I avoid alternatives because of how much longer they take, I would take the long way round.

I got stopped at the first traffic light. I waited patiently and pulled off once the light went green, as one does. I'd literally been moving for about a minute when I got stopped at the second light. I was a little annoyed as the two lights are about 250m apart, so it's not very far. Here too, I waited patiently and then pulled off. By the third light, another 200m down the road, I was stopped again. This trend continued throughout the morning...

At one stage I knew that there was a longish straight stretch of road, only interrupted by a traffic circle, and so I was rather optimistic about making up for lost time on this stretch. But to my horror, as I pulled up to the circle, a mechanical digger pulled into the road in front of me! And this one was in no hurry to get anywhere at all.

Along my way to university today I was further slowed by one accident (not involving me...thank goodness!) and large road-works which backed up traffic for about three blocks. All in all, my driving experiences of this morning were not ideal and probably would have put any learner drivers off the idea of driving for life.

So after approximately 55min on the road (it usually takes me about 15-20min) I got to university. Once there I discovered to my horror that my supervisor wasn't present! This normally wouldn't phase me, but at the moment I'm really stuck with my work and I can't figure out what to do, hense the need to have him around. So, to calm my nerves, I decided to go to do some photocopying.

I got to the copy room and swiped my copy card in the machine. Nothing happened. Now I know that I am prone to swiping it the wrong way round and so I inevitably have to do it a few times before I get it right. But today, literally nothing happened no matter what I did. I eventually called over the secretary for help and she, after a barrage of questions and a completely incredulous tone, came to my aid. Or, at least, that was her intention.

We finally concluded that the machine had finally given up the ghost and that I should come back later when the other one was free for use. So I retreated to my lab to check my e-mail, which apart from some creative spam and one joke e-mail, wasn't particularly exciting.

I hope that the day improves...

We’re better than you – and we know it!

So, I recently wrote a guest-post for Helen's blog about child-birth. Following the raving success of my musings, I requested a guest-post from Helen, and here it is...

We’re better than you – and we know it!

I started going to gym about 6 months ago, took a break while I ran up and down mountains chasing lizards and then started again after I went scuba-diving and realised that my arm muscles have almost completely atrophied to a point where I was unable to pull myself up and into the boat. To my credit, it’s a pretty high boat…

I like gym. Maybe it’s just my masochistic side that loves being exhausted to a point where I can barely climb the stairs to the exit (whoever designed the place was a moron), and maybe it’s that I love turning in my ipod and ignoring the world around me as I run until I just can’t anymore. But as the weeks go by, I can’t help but notice the different people who go to the gym. And while it was fun to invent back-stories for them at first, now I find myself allocating them to groups:

Soccer-mom gym bunnies: these are most common if you go to gym midmorning. They are the type to have perfect manicures, matching gym outfits and running shoes and hair that is blow-dried into perfect pouffyness after every session. They tend to travel in packs and between dropping Soleil off at violin and picking Kyle up from karate class (in a gigantic SUV that is never going to go more off-road than parking at the local mall) they are seen running side-by-side on treadmills chatting about their personal lives in rather strident tones. I’m never sure which annoys me more: that they are so loud about what should be private; that their private lives aren’t interesting enough to warrant eavesdropping or that they never seem to sweat. Either way the unspoken competitive streak is there: they are always best friends as long as whoever their gym-buddy is doesn’t lose more weight than them.

Early morning high-achievers: I run into these guys a lot because they tend to go to gym either before work (at around 6am) or after work (around 7pm). I don’t mind these people as they tend to be driven, focused and above all, silent. They arrive early; do their gym routine as quickly as possible before showering, blow-drying hair and applying makeup at lightning speed and then rushing off to work where I presume the PA will have a cup of coffee waiting. I think, on some level, we all want to be like them, as long as it doesn’t come complete with a midlife crisis, stomach ulcer and high blood pressure.

The ex-early morning high-achievers: I feel quite sorry for these guys (they’re always male). These are the people who used to be high-powered yuppies, but years of long hours in the competitive business environment as well as family braais and rugby on the weekend leave them with a lovely beer-gut and the stamina to play 9 holes of golf, but not too much more. Then they hit middle age, realise they are going bald, buy a sports car and try very hard to get their secretaries interested in them. I hate to admit it, but whenever I drive past an oldish man in a sports car I feel the urge to cough ‘Midlife crisis!’ at them and giggle while zooming off. Fortunately I’m not that immature. Anymore anyway. So at the gym these guys still feel as if they are 25. They compete with everyone – not in the macho bodybuilder way where they know they’re better and they show off because they can, but in a rather sad, masochistic way. For instance, they still never ever use any equipment without adding extra weights. Even if they are doing a circuit behind the toughest weightlifter in the country, they will add weights. Of course this means that they usually can’t do anything with any level of control and they end up jerking and dropping weights everywhere. They’re also usually limited to about 2 reps per machine in order to avoid an aneurysm, but they make up for this by glowering at everyone around them and puffing their chest out if they see anyone lifting less than them (although ‘lifting’ is a bit of an overstatement…).

A new generation of stage-mothers: These are the soccer-moms at a whole new level – once the kids get too rebellious for ballet lessons or something they start accompanying their mothers to the gym. I’m not talking about the little kids who go to the play area, or about the bored kids who wander around and poke at anything with buttons (I mean machines, get your minds out the gutter!). Generally these are the pre-teen daughters who are being trained into eating disorders and compulsive exercise regimes at a nice early age. Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t be more supportive of mothers who teach their kids to be healthy and exercise regularly, but these mothers take it to the extreme, effectively living vicariously through their kids. As long as the little darling can run on the treadmill without being propped up, she will continue and therefore be fitter, thinner and altogether better than everyone else’s kids. Unfortunately most other others get this idea too, and so, if you go to gym in the middle of the afternoon you will see row upon row of bobbing blonde ponytails as the kids exercise while their mothers glare at each other and feel obligated to point out every single flaw in every other child (in a very subtle stage whisper) to their own spawn. After gym they will go and get smoothies and go and have pedicures together, in training for the next generation of overachievers who will probably end up as soccer moms.

The macho-men: much like how girls find it difficult to go to the bathroom alone, men find it difficult to go to gym without an entourage. Of course there is always the slight issue of who is in charge, and who forms the entourage, but that’s all in the friendly spirit of competition! These guys go to the gym in groups of three or four and take turns throwing weights around while making macho grunting noises. These guys range from late teens to late twenties, and as time passes the friendly competition becomes more and more intense. Sometimes the guys are really keen on getting in shape and they work hard and appreciate the accountability of belonging to such a group, but as far as I’ve noticed, there is quite often at least one member of the group who lies to feel macho. I’m not sure if this person goes to gym on his own, secretly, or if he just has a high pain threshold, but he’s always pushing the others way out of their comfort zones. This group has an unspoken rule that whatever one of them can lift/bench-press/leg press or whatever, they can all lift. So the scrawny little guy who invariably made friends with the others over an exciting game of D&D and who gets winded throwing the dice more than twice in a row… well lets just say that it’s not pretty to watch him gritting his teeth and straining… on the plus side, people like me get to watch the mach guys and picture them in twenty years time, with receding hairlines and the onset of a beer gut, trying desperately to regain lost youth… yes, they are well on their way to becoming ex-early morning high achievers!

The normal people: I know this post is coming across as bitter and cynical, but I think a lot of that attitude comes from seeing how uncomfortable the various stereotypes make the regular people. They don’t necessarily try, but the macho groups, or the soccer-moms in their designer gym gear can really make the man on the street a bit unhappy. These are the people who wear an old tracksuit and takkies, who actually sweat while exercising (and not in the tough, projectile-type sweat of the macho men either), who take breaks to catch their breath, who stand with their heads tilted, staring at the newest piece of equipment, tying to figure out if it’s a leg-machine, arm-machine, ATM, or a bench to rest on. These are the folks who occasionally feel so intimidated that they try to break out of their routine, where they invariably end up setting the treadmill at 30km/hr on an incline and go flying backwards (true story, I saw it last week!). So normal people, I salute you! Keep tying, and then, one day, when you bench-press more than the nearest macho-man, I will break out into applause as he tries to beat you and burst a blood vessel!

Zee Old Folks: These guys are the terror of most gym-goers (according to 100% of people surveyed, which was basically the last 5 people I spoke to. Thanks guys!). They aren’t too bad while exercising, they tend to do their own thing, usually involving swimming or walking. They aren’t necessarily ancient, in fact the mental image I have while typing this is of a 50-something woman. The reason that the image is burned into my brain? Because these people are the terror of the change room. Yes, the people who you would probably never want to see naked, are the ones who finish their workouts and then proceed to walk around the change rooms stark naked.

This is the scenario: you finish your workout and go to change or take a shower, but then you realise that there is a middle-aged naked person standing in from of your locker, having a conversation with someone across the room. This makes me very uncomfortable, because I hate to interrupt a conversation, don’t want to stare but am uncomfortable making eye-contact with a naked person. At the same time, tapping a naked person on the shoulder… awwwkward… my response is usually to go and wash my face, maybe go to the bathroom and come back later. This doesn’t usually work though and eventually I mutter “excuse me!” while staring at a point about two feet to the left of their head. Then you grab your stuff and go and shower quickly, avoiding looking at another one of zee old folks, who will be showering with the shower door open. WHY???

Then you get back from the shower, usually walking next to the person who was showering with the door open, to find that they will walk, naked, while CARRYING their towel. Seriously, not only is it a lot kinder to wrap the thing around you, it’s also more efficient ad you can carry your shampoo without dropping it and bending in front of me! You go and get your clean clothes out of your new locker (the talker is still standing in front of the one you used before) and try to change while staring at the floor. In the meantime the talker and the showerer will have started a conversation, and one of them will be standing with one leg up on the bench while rubbing lotion all over themselves. As by then I’m usually trying to tie my shoelaces, this will be at my eye-level. Once you are dressed you do not stop staring at the floor, while gathering everything and escaping.

I guess I will stop there, leaving you folks with that fabulous mental image. Have an awesome day!

I survived! Barely...

Merry Christmas Bloggers! Sorry, it's late, I know, but better late than never!

As the Christmas period draws to a close, one seems to always find one's thoughts wandering to just how over-socialised they have been over the last week and just how over-fed they have been within that same time frame. I, in particular, have been running around from function to function, all of which require a great deal of eating, and it's really taken its toll...

...or so I thought...

Last night I didn't sleep very well. I'm currently house-sitting for my cousin and her husband. They recently moved into a new house, which is enormous by the way, and have yet to actually move in, in the sense that all of their worldly possessions are still in boxes, strewn across the floor throughout the house. While this doesn't bother me in the least, the sheer size of the place does somewhat. It is just so big, and everything gets all creaky at night! To add to the sense of unease, last night it rained, while I watched a movie called 'Turistas' about Brazilian organ trafficking, which didn't ease my nerves at all, and thus, I didn't sleep very well.

Normally this wouldn't be a problem, I'd just go about my day feeling tired, potentially grumpy, and hit the hay early the next evening. But today, my parents and I had decided to go on a 7km hike at an amazing place north of Pretoria, called Tswaing Crater. It's a meteor impact crater with a salt-lake in the middle of it. It's really beautiful and, apart from the foul-smelling salt lake, very interesting.

The amazing part about the whole thing was that despite my lack of sleep, recent over-eating and complete absence of exercise I managed to do it all with ease! I am most impressed with myself! The only down side to the day was not taking enough water with and the resulting headache that I now endure. That, and the fact that my mother nearly passed out from exhaustion...

PHOTOS!

Fooling around with the camera in the car on the way there

The view from the crater rim

The plaque of Dr. Eugene Shoemaker, a brilliant scientist, according to the plaque anyway...

A typical, dramatic, stunning and beautiful South African scene

The view from the bottom...

For all your previous-drunken-night-can't-remember-how-I-got-that-cut brawl needs...Puncher repairs! :D

Nostalgia and the embarrasment of the past...

So, this morning, my parents and I went over to my grandmother's for tea, as we do on Sundays. Somehow, we got round to discussing photos and in the process, began looking through some of my grandmother's old photos. Here is a selection ranging from the ridiculous, to the beautiful...

Believe it or not, these beauties are in fact part of a Church acting ensemble! And they are in fact all women!

This is in fact a photo of my grandmother some time ago. I thought it was quite striking because:

• She looks rather beautiful and sometimes, I think anyway, it's hard to imagine grandparents looking anything other than wrinkly and old.
• She's got the look of a Hollywood starlet, riding the crest of her own wave of fame... :)

This is a pic of my great-grandmother. Apparently she didn't have much of a sense of humour...you wouldn't think so, would you?

Here we see a rather cute picture of my great-grandfather, doing what dad's do best...pushing kids around in a wheel-barrow! Go great-grandad!

I just like this one because the puppy is cute :D

I think we can all agree that we are, if only just a little, glad that the 50's and 60's have ended...The really scary part:

The one on the right in purple with the disturbing unilateral nipple-stand is the BRIDE! The side-kick is her bridesmaid.

Finally, this is a picture of the Namib desert in Namibia, taken by my father on a family holiday. It's bleak, barren and beautiful...

The most random shopping trip ever

My mother is of the opinion that one should do all their grocery shopping on a weekly basis. Generally, this happens on a Friday evening so that the rest of the weekend is completely uninterrupted, but occasionally, it has to happen on a Saturday morning, as was the case with 'The most random shopping trip ever'. I took a series of photos on my phone during the trip to give you a taste of the weird things that we encounted on this trip...




The first thing that should have pointed to the odd nature of this excursion was the fact that the shopping centre was hosting what they termed, 'Adventure Christmas!' It was basically a whole bunch of games and fun things to do in the parking lot of the shopping centre. It included rock climbing (pictured here), a mechanical bull, paintball and some other stuff. After all, what is Christmas without a good game of paintball?





As we turned down one of the aisles, my sister shrieked and pointed out that this doll has no pants. She failed to notice that the child-doll-thing at her feet has no face whatsoever...




For some strange reason, management of the store obviously felt the need to comfort shoppers when they buy eggs. Thus they created the 'Safe Zone', an area where all buyers of eggs would have sanctuary from the harrowing and dangerous world of the egg aisle...


As we were waiting at the tills to pay for our shopping my sister and I confirmed that the shopping centre was just a tad on the confused side. After all, how many store managers can claim to play host to the Christmas Bunny?

Sodwana! Diving! Sea-sickness! Pills! Happiness! :D

This past weekend, I went to Sodwana bay to partake of my final, qualifying scuba dive, and have an all-round awesome time. And I am pleased to announce that I achieved both goals!


The trip down was really great fun! Helen and I spent the majority of the trip chortling away, as we do, while Jenny and Megan (our trip-mates) tried to zone out and ignore us in the front seats. Several key themes would emerge during this drive that would alter the direction of our holiday completely, including the emergence of Helen's narcolepsy (discussed here...) and the overriding theme of conversation that would emerge at random during discussions throughout the following 4 days...taxidermy.


We arrived in Sodwana in the late afternoon, excited, tired, amazed at just how hot it was and generally confused as to why the reception desk was being manned by a Dan Brown novel and not by a person. A little walk around the dive charters camp bumped us into the operator, Eve, who was very nice and checked us in. She then lead us around and explained all to us, including giving us a tour of our accommodation for the next 4 days. Helen and I selected bunks immediately (a VERY hasty decision which I would regret soon thereafter...) and after some dinner cooked in the communal cooking area, we went to bed. After all, we were due for our first dive the next morning and were all very keen and needed to be well rested.

That night, as I ascended onto my bed, the top bunk - Helen, had the bottom one - I immediately realised what a mistake the bed selection had been. There are more steady chronic drunks out there than that bed! It swayed with every bowel movement or breath of both Helen and myself! So, eventually, at about 4AM, I decided to give up on the bed and dismounted to sleep on the floor.


As it turned out, this was probably my best decision as the floor wasn't moving and happened to be the coolest part of our furnace-like room...


The next morning, after a great deal of confusion surrounding whether I had fallen out of the bed or leaped from it in sheer desperation, we all got up and got ready to go diving. We were due to dive at 10:30, and so thought it best to get to the beach by 9:30 at the latest.


Eventually, we left for our dive at 11:30. I would be lying if I claimed that I had been anything short of anxious about this dive, it being my first-ever ocean dive. None the less, I boldly helped push the boat out into the surf, scrambled into the dingy and held on for dear life as we scooted over the waves into the open ocean...


The boat ride out was SO cool! I loved it! It would soon emerge that this was one of the best parts of going scuba-diving, an opinion echoed by both Helen and Jenny. And, apart from one incident where the skipper nearly killed us all, it was great fun and one always felt at ease with having your life in the hands of a hairy old sea dog (...well, only one of them could really pass as a hairy old sea dog, but there's very little drama in describing them as ripped blonde kids in their twenties taking a gap year...).


Eventually, we found our place over the reef and, after being helped by the skipper to don all the gear (an exciting new experience in itself - we were all used to having to struggle and do it ourselves), we dived. I lasted about 34 minutes on my first dive, and following a 5 min ascent to the surface, I was helped into the boat by the skipper. I soon realised that I, in fact, was one of those unfortunates that suffer from sea-sickness. I was given a lollipop by the skipper and I then learned another valuable bit of information: NEVER take the sweet! It makes things SO much worse!


I felt progressively more and more ill while diver after diver emerged from the depths to sing the praises of those who came up with the idea to go under water with a can of pressurized gas on their back. In truth, the diving experience was fantastic, something I'll never forget, but at the time, the sheer amazingness of it all had been overshadowed by my need to reveal my breakfast to the world. After everyone had returned to the surface, we headed back to shore. The ride back was fun (albeit, not as fun as the ride out had been) and as soon as the boat came to a sickening stop on the sands of the beach, I stumbled off and, weight belt and fins in tow, headed back to our gazebo to have a little sit-down.


For all the subsequent dives, I graciously took medication that Helen gave me which worked like a charm! I was due to dive later that day, but hadn't felt confident that the sphincters holding my stomach closed would not stage a coup, and thus opted out. It did allow me to take some great photos of the boat being launched, the beach and the waves:



Our trusty wave-riding, streamlined, balloon...



Look! There's a boat zooming off into the surf!

The beautiful Sodwana coastline

Party! I wish not...

So, seeing as every other person I know that has a blog has taken to writing again, I feel compelled to do the same. Gotta keep up with the Jones's and all that...

I recently went to a party to celebrate a 25th wedding anniversary. In this day and age, simply having a 25th wedding anniversary is quite a feat and cause for great celebration. However, in this particular case, I just wish that I didn't have to celebrate it with the couple in question. The problem is that they are a family who I have known for some time and in that time I have grown to like them less and less. They are crass, crude, entirely self-centered and juvenile, all of which I cannot stomach. I realise that I am a snob, but what can I do?

So, on Sunday evening, I was dragged, reluctantly, along with my family to this party. Due to the fact that my one sister is currently in the UK, our party of party-goers consisted of my parents, my sister and I. The party was set to start at 5 (what kind of dinner party starts at 5 in the afternoon?!) and the dress code, according to the invitation anyway, was 'smart'. This in itself caused great consternation as none of us could figure out where on the continuum between naked and meeting the Queen of England 'smart' lay, but we figured it sat around the region of smart-casual and dressed accordingly.

Upon our arrival, we realised that smart actually meant, dress as if you are going clubbing in a really seedy area, or alternatively, as if you were going to a house party.

Starting the evening realising that you are severely over-dressed didn't help to improve my outlook on the festivities. The immediate arrival of a waiter with sparkling wine improved my assessment of the situation and after discovering the snack table, I began to think that perhaps things really weren't going to be all that bad. I was gravely mistaken...

To cut a very long, and painful, story short, things tobogganed downhill from this point on. The sparkling wine ran out within about the first 30 minutes, only to be replaced by a truly vile, dry white wine which put a proverbial cork in my sister's and my plans to get tipsy in an effort to make the experience bearable. The DJ for the evening turned out to be tragically overconfident with regard to the ability to woo the audience with his wit. In addition to this, his ability to cram just about every politically incorrect concept into everything he said, as well as a great number of expletives as punctuation didn't exactly warm my sister or I to him. There are hip movements displayed by a 50-something old man on the dancefloor I witnessed that are now permanently burned into my mind which, really, I could have done without. Not knowing a single person there, apart from the celebrated couple and their family didn't help much, but having a camera eased the boredom slightly.

Luckily, we had been placed at a table with a family that had two small children, thus providing the means for our escape. We kept a close eye on the state of fatigue of the children and with the emergence of the first yawn, we proclaimed that we too had best be on our way.

Much to my relief, my mother has decided that this was to be the final event of the family in question that we would ever attend. I've waited about 5 long years to hear that...

OH JOY AND RAPTURE!!!

Behold! The Majesty! It has finally happened! A company has realised the superiority of E171 and E133!

For the average Joe, that means, someone is making blue food...

For all who don't know me, I am a huge lover of all things blue! In fact, I believe that Helen and I once devoted an entire afternoon to finding out if what we thought was a truely blue fruit actually existed. Turns out, it was a white fruit but the photo had been taken with a flash in such a way as to make it appear blue. We were crushed...or at least, I was...

Cocktails are always better when they are blue (except for that one that had the dead fly in it...)! Blue pasta rocks! And now, blue chocolates! Thank you Nestle!