I have not watched one game to finality and I am blogging through the final. I must be terminally uncool. I have loved the vibe and the excitement and what it has done for our country- but I cannot, cannot bring myself to sit down through 90 minutes of this game. Watching men kick a ball one way and then the other and being lucky to even see one goal scored. That’s for the birds. My ration of patience in life doesn’t allow for me to enjoy watching 90 minutes of nothing coming to fruition.
Rugby now. There’s a different story. There is even the possibility that I might get to watch a punch up. I can't tell you why- but I enjoy those.
I have been reading the latest Cleo magazine. Apparently I am committing multiple blogger cardinal sins. I have learnt the following from Cleo:
1. A blog is not a diary. Unless you are famous, no one really gives a shit what you do on a day to day basis.
2. Keep blog posts short- 250 words max because scrolling is so like, 90’s.
3. Your interest factor with the boys goes up huge if you blog because it takes a certain discipline to blog that most girls just don’t have…Ahem. My inner feminist would very much like to teach the chauvinist runt that wrote this a thing or two about discipline.
4. Spell correctly and try to use big words as this impresses the boys… ditto on 3 above.
But anyway- this is what you get for reading a magazine that is aimed at 20 year olds and probably has a good share of the 10 year old demographic ( there’s my big word, in case you missed that…) If my mom saw it on my bedside table she would pick it up and say sniffily , “Who’s reading this crap?” Leaving me wondering about her powers of deduction as it is patently clear who the reader of the crap must be seeing as it is on my bedside table.
My mom- recently did this with the book “Graceling” and there I really have to agree with her. Girls should not write fight scenes. Ever. When you read about a vicious girl fighter who gets into fights and is “spinning” and “clipping” and “tapping”, you realise that the rest of the book is likely to be premium grade horse manure.
”It’s a book club book”, I say trying to disown my guilt. I don’t mention that I am the one that bought it for bookclub. I had trawled the websites in search of the top romance books (don't say anything) and it came up and sounded interesting and as everyone is all into the vampire thing right now with Eclipse etc, I thought that I could slip this bit of fantasy in without much ado. Fail….
So- big, unlady-like, gob-spraying raspberries to the chauvinist runt from Cleo magazine- here is the diary part of my blog (and I am sure I am way over my 250 word safety margin and there is much gnashing of teeth and torment as anyone reading this is forced to scroll if they want to get to the end of it. Sorry. You can take the girl out of the 90’s but you can’t take the 90’s out of the girl.
Up in arms? Christopher on the Gold Reef City train- not too keen on me snapping his pic. But a great morning was had by all. Cannot say that I would rush back to see the Winter Circus which was the reason that I had wanted to go as it ended today. But I did enjoy the trapeze artists. 
Then today, Tamzin, Erina and Danika came over for tea. Microwave popcorn for kids is just the best.
I have not heard any Vuvezelas for some time so obviously no goals being scored.
On that note- time for me to retire to bed with my latest book, The Carrie Diaries. A real candy floss read but I am enjoying it immensely, although it does remind me how awful it was to be at school, how awful it was to have a crush on a boy who didn't even know that you existed, the awfulness of school bitches- it seems every school has one.
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