Felt like they cut off my right arm

Last night, as I was getting ready to answer some comments from all you lovely peeps, the internet stalled and then, moments later, crashed. Now, since this happened after dark and on a day most people are out celebrating or away somewhere having a long weekend (all my pals are out there somewhere camping), the most likely explanation for this is that some smart soul, in need of money, decided to dig up cables and steal them. Not an uncommon occurrence and oftentimes warrants the unfortunate T.I.A. But, at least this time, after I made the hubby call the provider (Seriously! Does this woman do anything herself?), the new provider was honest enough to tell the hubby that the entire estate was without a connection and that they had no idea when it would be up again. Doesn't sound like good customer service, I know, but after what the previous thieving provider, YSL (though not Yves Saint Laurent) did by charging for the connection they were no longer providing on account of having gone bankrupt and having thus been liquidated, this was a welcome change indeed. Also, hubby is pretty mellow, whereas I tend to threaten, and unless you directly swear at him he is pretty unfazed. This is partly why I don't usually make complaint calls, but write the letters instead (See, she does do something). As I've said before it's my diplomatic ways that have made me popular...

But I fokken digress. Big time. As if there were a point to this drivel.

Anyhoodles, the unfortunate break in my webby existence enabled me to watch a whole whoppin' episode of Desperate Housewives, and made me realize that I should read even more, and that there is nothing worth watching on television in South Africa. Among others, I managed to catch the ending of the classic, and no doubt critically acclaimed 'Ten Ways to Lose a Guy', something I had never seen before (or bothered with all the way to the ending - I am a 6 year old and thus have the attention span of one), most of some weird movie about the death of a family matriarch, starring Viveca A. Fox (never a good thing) and that evil woman from Ugly Betty (no better, I guess), most of a movie from 1991 of two very unlucky people in Mexico, which I watched solely because they were supposedly in Acapulco ("Ha! There is no way a plane can crash into the jungle if it is on its way from Acapulco to Mexico City," I told the television repeatedly, and then cried a little, because I miss Mexico so much), before changing the channel onto my trusted friend, Discovery, and catching that show about motorcycles. Fun.

Furthermore, despite my aversion to adapting to technological changes in my life, I am now convinced I should get one of those iPhone deelios to replace the phone that I sat on and broke in a drunken state in January. Since the parts of my current phone are still more or less attached and the phone keeps working (sorta), I was going to see how long it would take for the display part to fall off, just to, you know, pass the time, and to honor the memory of my, now deceased, previous phone which I used until the camera fell off. But it would be nice to own something that would feed my internet addiction even when the laptop is useless. 

Important issues.

Bet you guessed it already. I haven't left the house since Monday. Feeling all hermitesque and such, but should probably at least go out to the back yard.  

A snapshot of life from Lusaka, Zambia

I'm at the hotel gym. I have it all to myself and I'm enjoying a brisk walk on the treadmill. On the big, fancy television there is Gladiator, the soundless version, as I am unable to reach the remote. I turn my eyes towards the smaller screen in the corner. It is emitting slightly more sound. A Zambian morning program seems to be on.

Picture this:

There are two massive, sky-blue, fake-suede armchairs with a couple of throw rugs that appear to have a Zebra-motif, symmetrically positioned over the seats and the backs. Behind the chairs, on the back wall of the 'set', is a grainy blow up of a 20 000 kwacha bill, an amount of money equal to $4 USD. On the chairs sit a man and a woman. There are newspapers and a glass bowl of what appear to be avocados on a wooden coffee table placed directly in front of the chairs. 

It appears that the woman is the host of the program. She keeps nodding her head as the man talks. She is wearing something that to me seems a prom dress, the short kind. The garment is pink, has immense puffy sleeves and a little pink lace on the collar. The picture is cut so that you cannot see her shoes, but you are painfully aware of the fact that she has not shaved her legs in a while. She has, however, obviously gotten her hair/wig done in the recent past and it sits atop her pretty nodding head like a helmet, not a hair out of place.      

The man keeps talking to the camera and to the woman. He is very serious, bald, and middle aged. He is wearing a brown plaid jacket, the like of which I have never before laid eyes on, a white shirt,light brown pants, and a tie that matches the jacket in the browns, but not in the pattern, as it has diamond shapes on it. He is in all possible shades of chocolate, and somewhat clashes with the zebra-motif and the chairs.

And, as if this scene is not enough to knock me off the treadmill, the camera cuts to the bowl of avocados. There are three of them, two on the bottom, and one positioned on top of the two. I stare at the screen in disbelief - directly behind the bowl in the picture is the man's crotch. He is sitting with his legs parted and appears to have grown a pair of green testicles and an odd shaped penis with a little black dot right on the tip.

I practically wet myself.    

The most amazing show on the air

The big thing right now amongst our friends seems to be the dstv decoder that also records (and apparently offers you a multitude of other cool functions I'm completely oblivious to). I have been told that there are so many interesting shows and other entertainment on television at the moment, or starting this month, that one has to simply record all of it. I have been missing something worth watching, so I'll be happy if this turns out to be true. All I know about the upcoming attractions is that at least I'll have Louis Thereoux's zany documentaries to look forward to! 

However, the best show on air just happened (again, but even cooler than normal) outside my patio windows. I pulled up a chair, sat back, and enjoyed the craziness that is South African weather.

Earlier today, as I was driving back towards the estate, some droplets caught my windshield, and for once I was actually in my full right to use the wipers. Hurrah! I also almost ran into a pick up truck (those pesky stop signs again), but more on that some other time. Anyway, as I drove into the third gate towards my house it really started raining. The wind picked up, and I could hear a distant rumble. The neighborhood nuisances were herded back inside by their (I'm starting to think very rude) mother, and I could enjoy the childless, birdless, and cricketless sound scenery. 

As I pulled up my chair - that I use for this purpose only, because it smells of beans and death, and is very suspect in its rented existence - I could hear a powerful crack as the lightning struck just behind the garden wall. Lucky little bastards, the neighborhood pests. The lightning struck very close more than a couple of times, and the rumble did not subside for a whole 15 minutes. It felt like night at one in the afternoon. Almost like watching a horror movie. You know what is coming, but you jump and scream anyway. Points to South Africa.

It is awesome how little it takes to make my day.