I recently told Lentie from Hooty Street about a the owl fashion wave tiding through Mr Price and EQ stores. She is also a fan of all things owl like me. This is a little nerdy bird I bought at Mr Price the other day. Especially for you Lentie
I just got an e-mail from a very interesting initiative known as T-Post.
Well, basically its a magazine on a shirt that you subscribe too and receive every 5 weeks. If this baffles your mind, then click here.
I think that this is quite a nifty idea and can serve as an excellent conversation starter (especially to all the people who were single on Valentine’s day and complaining about it. Here’s an idea!)
Ps: If you read this post and though that I am a suckah, please do tell me so.
I watched the Grammy’s last night on M-net and am regretting it today as I can barely keep my eyes open. I am an early to bed, early to rise person, so it is very difficult for me to concentrate today!
My absolute favourite for the evening was when Mumford & Sons were belting out their beautiful ballad ‘The Cave.’ To me, they absolutely stole the show, especially with their keyboardist playing the piano like a modern day Animal from the Muppets. (I love the Animal almost as much as I love this band.)
I have been listening to them almost a year now and fell in love with the first banjo note! Last night’s performance just re-established my band crush. Especially when gorgeous Marcus Mumford appeared. That man is devilishly beautiful!
Being the art opportunist (read copycat) that I am, I recently commissioned a friend of mine to paint me a Nguni bull on a beach. Thank you Jacky Kearns for this most beautiful piece of art!
I saw a painting at some art shop of a massive strong bull and had to have it, but the price tag read “You can’t afford this even if you sell your liver.” So, I just went to MegaMica and bought a mega canvas for R300 and five days later this is what I’ve got:
My beau has been away this whole week on a business trip and I absolutely hate it. I have a foolhardy little fear of being alone or even worse, being alone in the dark. And although I had a friend of mine stay over this week to keep me company, unforeseen circumstances came up and I was left to my own musings of what goes on in the flat after dark.
Living in a complex doesn’t aid in the flat being less spooky, as sound travels through every crack and whispers through every keyhole in a 5×8 square meter area. (kidding about the size, I have no idea how big it is). I did not bat an eye last night!
So to the guy I’m going to marry some day, I hate it when you are gone for so long! And I love you.