The Wannabe Cynic

The beast...

2006-10-18T06:49:00.000-07:00

In an episode of Grey's Anatomy, Katherine Heigel's character Izzy said how, once she'd had sex again after a long stint of not getting any, re-awakened her beast.
Well my beast has definitely been roused. And she's insatiable. And it's all thanks to Metal-Man .
We hooked up over a year ago for what should have been a one night stand.
When he met me I was extremely relationship phobic after experiencing one of those He's Not That Into You moments with a previous boyfriend. And being sexually deprived meant I was more obnoxious and irritable than usual.
I was not exactly the kind of person you'd have liked to have at a party. You'd have found me clutching my glass of Jesus-Juice, glaring at any devil spawn with a penis who dared glance my way.
My wit decended to it's lowest form if the said spawn managed to get into a conversation with yours truly. The only responses he'd get out of me would be dripping with enough sarcasm to leave a toxic burn. In short my friends soon made the decision that if WC didn't get laid soon they wouldn't have any hairs left. Hence the hook up.
Now after a year I'm still with the most sexually compatible person I've ever been with and I'm glad to say although my beast might be growling most of the time thanks to constant thoughts of Metal-Man, the noises she makes don't bother me at all.

Why the Cynic...

2006-10-13T05:24:00.000-07:00

I've been asked why I chose the wannabe cynic as my blog's title. And I say why not?
As Lillian Hellman once said "Cynicism is an unpleasant way of telling the truth"
Plus there is just so much to be cynical about .... don't agree? Well here here are couple of things I'm cynical about just to give you an idea.

psychoanalysts who keep their patients coming back for 20 years
expecting rewards in the hereafter
the apparent indifference of God
the possibility that God is a myth
the possibility that God is a jokester
capitalism
communism
socialism
fascism
commericialism
terrorism
the success of writers and artists who sell out
the wretchedness of writers and artists who don't
the shameful exclusion of non-Western cultures from history textbooks
the term"Third World"
realizing that the answers will always elude you if you search for them
knowing that you're still clueless after all these years
realizing that all the wise men, philosophers and self-help authors were clueless, too

I'll leave you with this anonymous qoute ...

If we (cynics) were activists, we'd do something
constructive about our discontentment. But we're smart enough to know that we
won't prevail, and probably a little too lazy to attempt any labour that's
predestined to fail. So we retaliate with our special brand of wounded wit.
If we can't defeat our oppressors, at least we can mock them in good
fellowship. That's about as much justice as a cynic can expect.

Be still oh heart of mine

2006-10-10T07:08:00.000-07:00

The problem with being young is that you tend forget that you are mortal. And risk is swear word in one's vocabulary. And I've done some pretty risky stuff in my life thus far.
Like driving myself home after having 'couple of drinks'. Or even worse letting some strange guy I've only met for five minutes drive me home. Granted, when logic returns I shudder at the thought of my lesuirely drive home with a possible 21st century Jack the Ripper. And the only reason I'm still breathing is probably because of my quirky humour and dazzling smile.
So it was only a matter of time before the full realisation of my mortality would come and smack the black off me.
And it came in the form of an HIV test. My heart has never beaten so fast. Waiting in that room for the doctor to come in and prick my finger was the longest 30 seconds of my life. Pictures of my escapades ran through my head. And I started wondering how ex boyfriends of mine were doing. It didn't help that I had my cell phone with me and I was sorely tempted to start ringing them up, like Chris Rock once recalled in one of his shows.
Finally the doctor arrived, a cheerful man - I disliked him on the spot!
He asked me about my sex life. I told him about my committed relationship with Metal-Man. Stressing the word committed. With a smug smile he explained how that meant nothing and proceeded with the test.
The thing looked like a pregnancy test and for the next ten minutes I watched as the red bar moved passed the first indicator of infection then HOVERED over the second. Then finally comming to a stop near the marker that says you are negative. Smiling, the lovely doctor shook my hand gave me tips on how to mantain my status and offered me a free t-shirt (what a nice guy).

Inventory

2006-10-09T07:32:00.000-07:00

Thought I would share with you some of the interesting gifts I got from my lover, friends and family:

Airline tickets to Ghana (West Africa) from my folks who are currently residing in the country of of my birth
A set of 6 sand blasted shooter glasses from my little sister, who lives in Cape Town so each glass had a famous landmark of the Mother City etched on the glass (very cute)
Got taken out to lunch twice by collegues and had a lovely bitching session (great for the soul I say)
Another set of sand blasted shooter glasses from my friend Angel-Devil Child (by now I'm starting to think I must be giving off the wrong impression about my love for alchohol)
A four hour long porn titled "I'm Gonna Suck U Suka!" from my lovely boyfriend (he even gift wrapped the thing .... brought a tear to my eye).

P.S. Thanks to Pannasmontata for my blog's lovely new look.

Try calling me a pariah again ...

2006-10-05T04:04:00.000-07:00

I do not deny that I am addicted to the 'ol cancer-stick. And I'm not ignorant about the damages that sucking on one of these babies does to one's body.
But the thought of giving up now is the last thing on my mind. I can't imagine a day without the absolute pleasure I get out of lighting one, especially during the course of a hectic day ... it's indescribable.
Sadly being a smoker today is hard. You might as well light a spliff instead. You'd get less shit said to you.
If your office does not have a designated smoking room, woe to the poor sods that have to march outside every time a craving hits.
Even worse is if your office is on the 50th floor. I'm one of the lucky ones; working for a newspaper and surrounded by highly stressed journalists means our smoking area is better than some. With a distant view of the ocean from our roof top, it's a 21st century smoker's haven.
The only thing one has to content with are non-smokers (who somehow find their way to designated areas).
It does not help that in this country, smoking as a black woman is a social faux-pas and hence allot of my peers choose to enjoy their cancer-sticks in private, far away from prying eyes.
Let me give you a couple of examples of the shit I have to listen to when all I want to do is enjoy my ciggie.

Do your parent's know you smoke? (I have my own apartment, have my own car; what am I 12 years old!)
You are too pretty to smoke (What is there a law saying only fugly people can smoke?)
Smoking is a disgusting habit (And picking your nose and eating what you found there you idiot is not?)
I hate it when women smoke, it's so unattractive (It's not like I was trying to lure your punk ass into bed!)

I've accepted high taxes on cigarette, the segregation and those annoying health warnings but I can't stand self-righteous rantings about what is basically my personal choice.

Incurable romantic? .... Guilty!

2006-10-04T03:52:00.000-07:00

This poem by Maya Angelou sums up how I'm feeling today

Remembrance
Your hands easy weight,
teasing the bees hived in my hair,
your smile at the slope of my cheek.
On the occasion, you press above me, glowing, spouting readiness, mystery rapes my reason
When you have withdrawn yourself and the magic,
when only the smell of your love lingers between my breasts,
then,
only then, can I greedily consume your presence.

Joyeux et heureux anniversaire WC!

2006-10-03T01:10:00.000-07:00

Thanks everyone for all the birthday wishes.

Wish you could all share a sundowner with me. African sunsets rock!

Re-discovering sisterhood

2006-10-02T07:16:00.000-07:00

I'm not a fan of the whole girlfriends' click thing. Which is strange considering I went to an all-girls high school. Well, maybe not so strange. High school was not exactly pleasant in a school filled with over 500 hormonal girls. You had to be an out right bitch to survive till graduation.
You had to be equiped with an arsenal of quick comebacks and killer-stares, last thing one wanted, is to become the classes' verbal punching bag during PMS season.
Note for men: after a while, a group of women living together will have their menstrual cycles at roughly the same time.

Granted, I owe my sarcastic humor and my ever so useful who-do-u-think-u-are-bitch stare to my experiences at an all-girls, I have to admit it left a small itchy scar.
So it was with no surprise that I approached a suggested girls night out with a couple of my friends with a bit of caution. I have not really hung-out with said friends for more than six months due to various reasons. However in the spirit of 'moving on', 'letting bygones be bygones' ; I agreed.

The verdict: I had a good time, perhaps it's because we're all maturing but for the first time I did not have to walk on eggshells to avoid hurting fragile egos. The main aim of the outing was not a competition to see who could pull the most advances and get bought the most drinks.
We shared, we talked and laughed. Great stuff!
However I could not be a Wannabe Cynic without having a few niggling thoughts.

A quarter century already?

2006-09-29T06:18:00.000-07:00

My birthday is next week. Before I hit 21, birthdays were always something I looked forward too. But recently the thought of turning 25 has started making me feel ... well peeved.
It's not because I know that from now on my metabolism will slow down or my once anti-gravitational breasts will now begin their slow decent into something resembling a pair of 'ol slippers that soon I'd be able to throw over my shoulders just because they're in my way.
It's none of that.
I simply thought I'd be richer, more successful a power suited high flyer, for fucks sake!
Ok, so I was naive to assume I could achieve all that before I reached 25 but considering they're 25 year olds arround me that have achieved the above mentioned does little for me.
Don't get me wrong, changing my career from IT to journalism was and is the best thing I could have done for my myself personally, it's something I love doing.
But when I glimse a one of my varsity classmates driving the latest beast, I usually turn a funny shade of puce green.
Some of you might say "money aint everything WC" but damn, call me Macavelian but I'm a material girl at heart. I guess the only thing I can do right now is *eye roll* re-evaluate my goals. Meanwhile I'll treat myself to some fine dinning at KFC, oh and maybe I'll even buy a full tank of gas.

The hair issue

2006-09-27T07:39:00.000-07:00

This might come as old news to some but I just had to say something.
For those who don't know yet, in a recent Esquire magazine article Daddy Pitt made a statement saying that the product Carol's Daughter was good for "white people who might be having a little trouble with black-person hair" .
This innocent statement from a Dad has sparked a ranging debate on a couple of blog sites I've visited.
With some people finding his statement offensive and an equal amount finding nothing wrong with it.
I'm with the second group, there is nothing wrong with what he said, perhaps it could have been worded better; but really the fact that he even knows what hair products Zahara uses is a good thing. Another point is at least they (Brad and Angie) are making an effort to care for their kid's hair.
Last thing we want is for their other kids to look good and for poor Zahara to be the ashy looking one. I can just imagine Maddox teasing poor ashy Zahara. I may not aggree with their charity efforts but Kudos to Brad and Angie on that one.

I'm off!

2006-09-22T06:29:00.000-07:00

I'll only be back on Tuesday. Cause it's this weekend is gonna be a loooong one.
As soon as I leave this office I'm driving straight to a liqour store, stocking up and then proceed to get hammered.
Metal-Man is joining me later on, starring in our very own porn flick.
Later guys, Enjoy your weekend!!!!

Baby Daddies are sexy?

2006-09-21T05:06:00.000-07:00

These days when I'm at the Mall (and in East London that's one of two places) I've been noticing a significant trend with young Dads. Men from my generation who are seen everywhere with their babies.
And don't expect grumpy faces from these Dads they are as proud of their little replicas as they are about their latest man-toy.
Just the other day I was enjoying my Sunday strawberry dacherie (one can't start the week without a dose of the good stuff) at the Mugg 'n Bean, when myself and Metal-Man noticed a Dad with one of those strap on carriers, and for added effect he even had a blindingly white towel (by now the alcohol was affecting the eyes ) over his shoulder, for his little soldier's throw up.
That man didn't walk, he pranced. Practically puffing up his 'child bearing' chest for all to see. It was funny. Enjoying myself thoroughly, I started looking out for more of these proud Dads. trying to see what the different types were.

The honey trapper: More than a couple of these guys were surrounded by one or two women, adoringly making cochoo cochee sounds to the baby strapped into a pram or carrier. Baby daddy talks 'bout daipers and growing pains and potential target makes suggestions and if he's lucky he'll get a number (just in case he needs advise).

The club: Then there are those dads that hang out in groups, pushing little tiger into each other's faces. Comparing their babies to the next man's.

The strutter: See above mentioned

The loner: I have personal experience with this type, he's ussualy alone with baby. Focused only what he wanted from the mall. Him and his mini-me are oblivious to the rest of the world as they sail along in their bubble.

Oh no WC!

2006-09-20T04:11:00.000-07:00

I just recently had a conversation with a friend of mine at work, who's also an avid blogger,
he says to me:

"Wannabe Cynic, do you know what WC also stands for?"

(WC dreaming of payday and having had very little for lunch today, gives a blank stare)

"No Quown"

"It stands for Water Closet" (Gives WC a wicked grin )

"I knew that, that was the whole point!"

Damn!

Clueless in B'day land

2006-09-20T01:21:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I ranted. Today I need your advise.

Background: Metal-Man (my boyfriend) is gonna be turning 30 big ones in November.

Please Advise: I did the whole suprise B'day Party thing for him last year. He loved it! , I even got some of his friends from outta town to come. It was hard work keeping that a secret.
Why did I go through all that trouble, keeping secrets, late night meetings as well as supplying all the booz?

I'm in love.
Love is a funny thing and according to scientists someone who is in love shares the same symptoms with someone that's bi-pola.
That explains why, now that I feel I've set a precedence, I want to top it.

30yrs is quite a milestone! And I think I've proven that I'm crazy in love

enough to make his B'day a good one.
So if you guys have any good ideas on what would make my man's B'day electric this year, please pass on those gems of knowledge onto me. Don't be shy go crazy, we've already proven that I am.

Ideas that have come my way already:

A Steak followed by unbridled sex
A three some (I'm a bit weary of this idea but one can't be a cynic without having material to go back too, so what the heck I'll try it)
Another party (perharps involving foam and loads of white t-shirts)

Basically those are my ideas, so I want some of yours and also to know if you agree with some of the above mentioned.

That Ad

2006-09-19T03:56:00.000-07:00

There has been allot of talk about the "I am African" ad campaigns against AIDS. But as a bona fide Wannabe Cynic and a currently residing African I have to say I find the whole ad campaign insulting.
The latest trend with celebrities at the moment is saving "the poor hungry natives" in Africa. Enter Jolie and her zombie sitter Pitt in Namibia then there is dear 'ol Oprah building a Girls' School right here in SA. Much as I appreciate what Oprah is trying to do, that money could have been used to build 20 rural schools all around the country instead of just the one. The special school where girls had to go through intensive interviews just to get in. I think someone's priorities got mixed up somewhere.
Now there is her highness Madonna of to save a village in Malawi.
All this added attention to Africa I feel is doing the opposite. Instead of the good these "demi god" celebrities are out achieve they're instead adding to the misconception that this is a continent that has its hands streched out like a beggar asking for change.
It gives the impression that we Africans cannot solve our own problems. And yes we know we have have huge problems on this continent but the recent attention makes us seem well pathetic.

The Big C Word

2006-09-18T06:25:00.000-07:00

For the first time in my 24 years - 7 of which is a blur of uninhibited sexual exploits- I find myself in a committed relationship.
It's been over a year now and I'm still crazy in love with Metal-man. However like all good things there is a catch. And these last 18 or so months I've discovered emotions I didn't know a retired nymph like yours truly, could experience.

Yup the old green eyed monster has possessed me one too many times. At times I've felt like Emily Rose, and my nervous friends (whom I've spent hours bitching too) are minutes away from calling an exocist. Some of you might laugh and say this is natural when you are in love blah blah blah. But you must remember that I was that chick you'd notice passing barely subtle glances your way, dancing on tables and flirting outrageously with every other good looking stud. I had not one but three 'boyfriends' at any one time. And out there somewhere are a group of 3 friends that all hate me 'cause I had my way with them behind their backs.
If you cheated on me, well I just didn't give a flying fuck, cause this nympho was probably outdoing you somewhere. Most probably on your bed. Yes I was nasty. Still am, I just keep my peformances for one man only. So these jealousy outbreaks are bewildering and leave me me feeling nervous.
To top it all, 'cause I know what dark and salacious activities the Wannabe Cynic got up too, and the dozens of egos and hearts I shattered without flinching. I feel like pay back is just around the corner. Karma is comming to get me and man am I scared.