Society's love affair with celebrity romances are as old as gossip itself. No-one really knows why we feel a pang of sadness when the hero cheats or the heroine "doesn't want to ruin her career with a baby" so they divorce, and rip each other to shreds. Why DO we care about these people who have no idea that we even exist? Is it purely aspirational? If so, then my golden couple to idolise right now has to be Chrissy Teigen & John Legend...
1) They seem REAL, well as real as you can seem to be.
She shows us her stretchmarks, he talks about his humble beginnings...
2) They are sucessful apart, but even better as a power couple.
She's working on her very own cookbook, he's hopefully working on his 6th studio album.
3) Meals don't seem to be the equivalent of negotiating a pre-nup.
Just eat!
4) They probably don't agree on everything. Any couple who doesn't fight, is lying. It's absolutely impossible to agree on everything.
5) They build together. If a New York apartment isn't part of your architectural dreams we can't be friends! Only I have architectural dreams? Oh well.
6) They laugh. All the time.
7) They have fun! And enjoy being able to also just "do nothing" together.
Possibly the most important part of a relationship, that and being silly together.
Of course assumptions made purely by appearances are obviously very questionable in the age of Amaro, Valencia, and the other culprits. Either way, "must be nice" to pull off such a lovely aesthetic.
We've already lost the only hope Hollywood had at a lasting couple when Bennifer broke up. Not to mention the loss of the only humour (besides Khloe's quick wit) in the Kardashian klan with the exit of the Lord.
Friday, 31 July 2015
Monday, 20 July 2015
The One where it was 1996, like, yesterday
As the year of the quarter-life-crisis continues, gentle reminders keep popping up that I should be freaking out. It seems one of the major feelings that associate with this is extreme nostalgia, coupled with a desire to be colouring-in the naughty corner.
About 2 weeks ago the hashtag: #WhatDoLaaitiesKnowAbout had its day to trend on Twitter. The South African community was plunged into a nostalgic frenzy, and the international community were probably thinking "wtf is a laaitie?" Until they made the translations and developed the #TodaysKidsWillNeverKnow hashtag that even Ellen has been sharing anecdotes with.
As if the hashtags weren't enough to make me feel as ancient as the Nokia 3310, my baby brother celebrated his 19th birthday about a week ago! 19!
I still remember the day I was happy to hear the news of the arrival of my future minion, complete with Tom-Cruise-Jubilation jump on the couch. All which came to a grinding halt once I'd lost the only-child limelight, culminating in a bubblegum in the hair incident.
I can't believe that after all these years my "bring me a snack" minion is a real man, legally driving and everything that goes with it. But he will always be a "laaitie" to me. Lie - tee - one who is younger than oneself, often in a generation or two below. And with that classification is a host of experiences that that generation will never have to "endure".
When I think of such situations I picture myself as a pensioner overlooking some grand lake, remembering the "good old days". And then to add even more fire to the flames, Josh asked Jarryd and I this weekend if "that's how we did it in the olden days", when we told him about show & tell days at primary school. I remember when I asked my gran about the "olden days".
The things I miss the most about my olden days include:
1) Being able to spend R5 at the corner shop on a Casper Ice-cream and pockets full of sweets & Holey Moley's, and still have enough to play Pac-Man on the arcade machine inside the shop, till my uncle had to come looking for me because I'd been missing for a while. (And they didn't want a repeat of the green-crayon incident).
2) Games that stimulated our imagination and kept as entertained for hours with limited graphics and requiring nothing but patience and good hand & eye coordination.
The nostalgia for these are so bad, that Le Boyfriend and I have downloaded an app that contains the old 64-in-1 cartridge games. (If you don't know what a cartridge is you're a laaitie)
3) Or better yet, playing outside till you got called in for supper or a bath and to fix up the latest knee-scrapes. Do kids even FALL these days?!?
4) Having my mom dress me. No worrying about the #ootd post or if my skinny's weren't tights in disguise. And nevermind that the Rambo jeans or corduroy pants didn't match the check-shirt, or my unruly curls. I was simply free to enjoy the stains that came with a day well spent.
So here's to spending the rest of my quarter-life-crisis year with lots of #WaybackWednesdays #ThrowbackThursdays #FlashbackFridays and remembering that the beauty in getting older is that experience brings memories that last a lifetime! :)
About 2 weeks ago the hashtag: #WhatDoLaaitiesKnowAbout had its day to trend on Twitter. The South African community was plunged into a nostalgic frenzy, and the international community were probably thinking "wtf is a laaitie?" Until they made the translations and developed the #TodaysKidsWillNeverKnow hashtag that even Ellen has been sharing anecdotes with.
As if the hashtags weren't enough to make me feel as ancient as the Nokia 3310, my baby brother celebrated his 19th birthday about a week ago! 19!
I still remember the day I was happy to hear the news of the arrival of my future minion, complete with Tom-Cruise-Jubilation jump on the couch. All which came to a grinding halt once I'd lost the only-child limelight, culminating in a bubblegum in the hair incident.
I can't believe that after all these years my "bring me a snack" minion is a real man, legally driving and everything that goes with it. But he will always be a "laaitie" to me. Lie - tee - one who is younger than oneself, often in a generation or two below. And with that classification is a host of experiences that that generation will never have to "endure".
When I think of such situations I picture myself as a pensioner overlooking some grand lake, remembering the "good old days". And then to add even more fire to the flames, Josh asked Jarryd and I this weekend if "that's how we did it in the olden days", when we told him about show & tell days at primary school. I remember when I asked my gran about the "olden days".
The things I miss the most about my olden days include:
1) Being able to spend R5 at the corner shop on a Casper Ice-cream and pockets full of sweets & Holey Moley's, and still have enough to play Pac-Man on the arcade machine inside the shop, till my uncle had to come looking for me because I'd been missing for a while. (And they didn't want a repeat of the green-crayon incident).
2) Games that stimulated our imagination and kept as entertained for hours with limited graphics and requiring nothing but patience and good hand & eye coordination.
The nostalgia for these are so bad, that Le Boyfriend and I have downloaded an app that contains the old 64-in-1 cartridge games. (If you don't know what a cartridge is you're a laaitie)
3) Or better yet, playing outside till you got called in for supper or a bath and to fix up the latest knee-scrapes. Do kids even FALL these days?!?
4) Having my mom dress me. No worrying about the #ootd post or if my skinny's weren't tights in disguise. And nevermind that the Rambo jeans or corduroy pants didn't match the check-shirt, or my unruly curls. I was simply free to enjoy the stains that came with a day well spent.
So here's to spending the rest of my quarter-life-crisis year with lots of #WaybackWednesdays #ThrowbackThursdays #FlashbackFridays and remembering that the beauty in getting older is that experience brings memories that last a lifetime! :)
Friday, 3 July 2015
The First Time I Tasted Wine: I mean, TASTED-TASTED
I’m not talking about when I graduated to the 3-sip-glass at
Christmas time when I was 12, or even the time I was put off drinking for life
when Ryan had a JC Le Roux hangover in the early 2000s. (THAT put me off
Christmas turkey for the rest of eternity).
Recently, for Staci’s birthday, I decided to give in to the
next-thing-since-sushi craze and join in the festivities for wine tasting.
I am by no means what I’d call a connoisseur, or even an
avid alcohol drinker, just give me a double Jack ‘n Lime and I’m good for the
night. However, I was delightfully
surprised by the tasting hosted by Steenberg Vineyards Estate. On arrival we were
escorted to the Boardroom for the tasting conducted by Herbert (who spoke so
knowledgably and passionately that even I started appreciating the woody
undertones). Okay, it was mostly lost on my untrained palate, but it was, for
lack of a better word “tasty” nonetheless.
We were given 5 samples to try and needless to say my
favourite was the sweet bubbly (which is the 1682 Pinot Noir MCC).
What made the afternoon in the setting, winter sun and comfy
chairs; even more ambient was being surrounded by friends and reconnecting over
many laughs (okay that was again probably just me) and stories of memories gone
by. Perhaps I’ve become a convert; perhaps I’ll just have another taste before
I decide for sure if Catharina is the lady to accompany my steak…
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