CHRISTMAS PARTY MORTIFICATION

The Wine Merchant had his Christmas party on Saturday. I'm very wary of work Christmas parties. I think they're a cruel trick to make you think you can have fun and be merry but in fact, they're just trying to manipulate you into getting transmogrified drunk and make you the topic of conversation at the Monday morning meeting. Anything you said or did will be remembered and blown out of proportion for years to come. And just when you think no one remembered that you danced on the table and said things to the big boss like 'You will be mine and so will your job', the next Christmas party will come around and everyone's sentence starts off with 'Remember last year when...'

So I was justifiably nervous about Saturday night and being well aware of my Foot in Mouth disease which rears its beautiful head when I'm nervous, I decided to take it easy and start with a refreshing coke light. Twenty minutes of angelic soberness later and I was cornered by the Wine Merchant's boss and his tequila bottle. Rescued by the announcement of food, I stood in the queue when my ears were deeply offended by the song they were playing.

Me: Oh my God, this song. FIRE THE DJ! Does he take requests? Because my request is to have him shot.
WM: Um Baglett, the DJ is standing in front of you.
Me: Sh*t.

Before I was able to dig myself a trench and bury myself in it, the big boss stood up, made a speech, called a woman up to stand next to him, put his arms around her and announced that she was finally pregnant. Claps all round and everyone went back their drinks. Thinking I would be a very good employees girlfriend, I went up to the couple to congratulate them.

Me: That's such great news for you guys!
Big Boss: Um no Baglett, I'm not the father.
Me: Oh. Wow! And you seem fine with this – that's really commendable. I admire the two of you!
WM: Um Baglett, no, they're not married.
Me: Wow, not even married! Jeepers, you guys are naughty aren't you?

Silence

BB: Um, no Baglett, she's my secretary.
Me: Brilliant! I love cliches!
WM: Crises Baglett, this is my boss, his wife is over there, this is his secretary and her husband is over there and it's their child.

More silence

Me: I really shouldn't be allowed to talk to people should I?
WM: Not so much.
Me: Well, if you need me, I will be drowning myself in your large pool over there.

In the end I sat with the old lady from accounts whose hearing aid wasn't working. She may not have heard what I was saying but I'm sure I offended her somehow.

IT CAME BACK

I received an email this morning from the Housemate. No text, just a subject which pretty much explained everything.

'The parktown prawn is back and made his re-appearance this morning by crawling OVER my foot as I was getting into the shower!!!!!!!!!!!!'

I think the gazillion exclamation points were a little unnecessary but I saw her point. Enough with hoping the dude had gone back to his roots in Parktown, he was clearly enjoying the creature comforts that our bathrooms were providing. It was time to take action, time to be brave, time to grow up. It was time to bring in the Wine Merchant
.
Wine Merchant: Can't you just leave it under the glass forever?
Me: And when we have people round? What do you want us to do? Dance around it like a group of prawn worshippers?
WM:Fine, give me the broom.
Me: What are you going to do with the broom?
WM: I'm going to sweep it off its feet Baglett. What do you think I'm going to do? I'm going to flick it into the neighbours garden.
Me: But what will the neighbour say?
Well unless the prawn tells her what happened, I think she will say 'Oh dear, I've got a Parktown prawn in my garden.'
Me: Fine, but if it climbs back here, I'm calling the police.
WM: Good idea. We can bring in the Scorpions to get rid of the prawns.

Two seconds later as the Wine Merchant lifted the glass, I instantly screamed, jumped onto the table and closed my eyes.

Me: Is it gone? I can't look.
WM: Why are you whispering?
Me: I'm not sure.
WM: It can't hear you.
Me: Don't prawns have ears?
WM: I'm not sure, but I'm pretty sure they don't speak english. And it's in the neighbours garden now so you're safe from the evil devil locust.

An hour later I looked out the window to see the prawn effortlessly moving his way up the tree that is shared by us and the neighbours. He looked pissed off, tired and intent on coming back to us. If only the Wine Merchant's name was Christian, because my Prawn Again Christian joke would have been HYSTERICAL right there and then.

BAGLETT IS A HEALTHY WOMAN

Noooooo silly, that's not me on the cover. That's Evangeline Lilly! They asked me though and I said noooo, let Lilly, she would be Lost without it. Ha! Seriously though, check out this month's issue of Women's Health with an article by yours truly. It's about sex! No, not really, but it does have a photo of me! No, not really, but it does has a photo of other people.


In other news: Look what The Brother sent me yesterday in a package marked 'From The Brother' – bless.




He sent me stickers! I've stuck them everywhere – my laptop, the Wine Merchant's forehead, on the Housemate's sandwiches, the cat, everywhere! Annoying for everyone else but hours of entertainment for me.

MY FIRST PARKTOWN PRAWN

While chatting to the Housemate this morning I saw something in my peripheral vision that I assumed was a dog. Turning to look into the bathroom I saw what wasn't a dog but something I had never seen before other than in the movie Species.

Me: What the f*ck is that?
Housemate: That Baglett, is what is known as a Parktown prawn.
Me: Well what the hell is it doing here, is it lost?
HM: Go and ask it.
Me: You ask it.
The Housemate: It's in your bathroom.
Me: But you're more familiar with them.
HM: I'm late for work.
Me: No you're not.
HM: Let the cat sort it out.
Me: Brilliant!

The full feral cat that could kill a small child with one swift swat of its paw. The cat that just has to look at a bird and it dies, the cat that brings in rats, birds and snakes as 'presents' and keeps looking at our neighbour with a hungry look in its eye. This was the perfect cat for the job.

Calling the pyschotic animal into the bathroom and pointing it in the direction of the PP, I introduced them.

Cat meet prawn. Prawn meet cat. Aaaaaaand GO!

Expecting bloodshed and one times dead prawn, the cat looked at me, looked at the prawn, and ran out the room.

'Oh I'm sorry, is this your friend? You kill large animals for sport and you won't touch this disgusting langoustine in my bathroom?

He looked at me and meowed which I translated as 'I don't do prawns'

The only option I had was to lock the two of them in the bathroom together and fight it out.

Ten minutes later I opened the door to find the cat hiding in the bath and the prawn staring it down from the sink. The cat skidded out the door and hid in my cupboard. With that I quietly closed the bathroom door and left the house. I've notified that Housemate that I will be using her bathroom from now on and my bathroom has been closed indefinitely or if I can convince her the bathroom never existed in the first place and is merely a fake door, this could also be an option.

WTF?

Please take a look at this.

It's just too much. I'm literally sitting here waiting for an evacuation warning. Coming from Cape Town, I'm well accustomed to rain. It's what Cape Town does. What Jo'burg is supposed to do is force you to buy industrial-sized bottles of moisturiser because your skin is so dry, you're resembling tectonic plates shifting. I had to drive to some Godforsaken place called Midvaal this morning where I almost lost my life five times. In the end I pressed record on my cellphone to verbally state my will. Serious questions like, 'Who would get the pyschotic cat?' and the Wine Merchant, 'Who will get the Wine Merchant?!' 'Will my parents take him in or will be be auctioned off?' But since I made it here in one piece, these kind of questions can be dealt with next year. And if I die in a weather related accident on the way home and my cellphone survives, there will be a recording of my voice asking my parents to bury me at a wine farm in Franschhoek. Fun for everyone!

And now I must rush because I'm frozen from the waist down and need to thaw out in my car for a while. Cape Town - enjoy the weather, Jo'burg - sort yourself out weather-wise for The Marketers 30th tomorrow night and I may just leave you the Wine Merchant in my will.

FIM DISEASE - IT'S REAL PEOPLE

My Foot in Mouth disease has been playing up a lot recently. I'm usually very aware of my disability and act accordingly; I think before I speak, I am more aware of the person I'm speaking too, their likes, dislikes and religious affiliation. But in the past few weeks, it's been mortifying to say the least.


Wine Merchant's mother: Would you look at this preacher on tv?
Me: Oh God I hate them.

One look at the Wine Merchant's mother's face and I realised she was not in agreement with my hatred and in fact loved them, if not was currently practicing to become one. Thankfully I happened to have my head buried in my laptop at the time and blamed my outburst on something I was watching on Youtube.


I had been banging awwwn and awwn about this whodunnit movie that the Wine Merchant just had to see. Finally getting him to watch it, I could see he was on the edge of seat the entire time and was really getting into it. As proud as if I had made the movie myself I sat back and watched his reactions.

Wine Merchant: That guy there, he looks so weird.
Me: Oh him? He's always the baddy.
WM: Thanks Baglett, that's great.
Me: Shit. Sorry.

And with that, the movie was over.


While at a kids birthday party recently, I ended up sitting next to a guy who was more feminine than all the women and their mothers at the party combined. We spoke spas, tanning salons, recipes, and I bored him with running and squash stories. Not that he was interested, but he had great legs and I thought it might move the conversation to sport to see where he got his legs from. A woman joined in the conversation and I asked him

Me: So where's your boyfriend?
Gay man: I'm sorry, WHAT?
Me: Oh sorry, your partner.
GM: This woman is my wife and those are my three kids over there.
Me: Shit. Sorry.


I went to visit the Wine Merchant at a wine show recently (by 'visit' I mean finish all his stock) where I bumped into one of the girls he works with. There was something different about her but I couldn't quite place it.

Me: You look different. Have you cut your hair? No wait, you've dyed it! It was blonde hey?!
Different chick: I've lost 15 kilos Baglett.
Me: That'll do it.


Unfortunately I'm going to a funeral today. Never a fun occasion but when I don't know what to say and am feeling awkward, that's when Foot in Mouth disease is at its worst. The last time I went to a funeral with my mother, she asked me if I could my annoying cousin a lift home and I replied with 'I'd rather die'.

Not ideal really.

ARRIVALS

Crises yesterday was a not a great day for me. After having shit chat with the Leader of the Annoying Ones, my flight was delayed for over an hour. But I did enjoy the woman on the loudspeaker informing us of the situation.

'We regret to inform you that flight BA 112 is delayed.'

'I apologise for the previous announcement. Flight SA 112 is delayed.'

'We regret to inform you that Flight SA 112 is delayed and scheduled to board at 5: 30.'

I checked my watch to see it was in fact 5:30.

'I apologise for the previous announcement. The flight is scheduled to leave at 6pm.'

Apologies, it's specifically Flight SA 112 that'd scheduled to leave at 6pm'

Finally we boarded and I had obviously had to sit next to a relation of the Annoying Girl who also wanted to tell me his dreams and aspirations. Earphones, laptop and a book could not throw this verbal diarrhoea-ridden boy off his track. Two long and painful hours later, I arrived in a freezing cold Jo'burg and spent a good twenty minutes watching other people's luggage worm its way round the conveyor belt. Finally my case came through and I grabbed it, swatting an innocent child with my squash racket in the process and was interrupted by my phone rang to tell me it was the Wine Merchant.

Me: WHAT?
WM: Oh hi, I'm looking for Satan? This must be the right number.
Me: Are you trying to be funny or just annoying?
WM: Actually Happiness, I'm trying to find out where you are.
Me: I'm in hell and on my way to you.
WM: Can't wait.

Bashing through the doors into the abyss that is O.R Tambo's Domestic Arrivals, I almost whacked straight into the Wine Merchant who was adorably standing with a huge bunch of flowers and then asked me the question I'd been dying for him to ask...

Red or white?

And proceeded to whip out two bottles of wine.

What a thoughtful little Wine Merchant.

AIRPORT CHIT CHAT

I'm at the airport. Which hasn't been an easy task. Firstly my Dads fear of missing flights means that I'm always at least two hours early. In this case he was probably right since dipshit here went to Arrivals and couldn't understand why every plane was landing rather than boarding. Getting to departures took about twenty minutes of navigation and finally I entered the very impressive building.

Escalators are not my friends. I once got my shoelace stuck and have been traumatised ever since. Trolleys are not my favourite either. I push when it's in park, I brake when I'm meant to release, it's all too much really. So when I approached the Trolley Friendly escalator combining my two worst contraptions, I pretty much freaked out.

True to form, I pushed the trolley onto the moving escalator, panicked, stepped back, missed the step, and fell back while I watched my trolley move its way up to the second floor. The Trolley Assistance dude eished his way up the escalator, saved my trolley from further embarrassment and helped it off the escalator. Not trusting the escalator and my state of absolute panic and mortification, I did what I should have done in the first place and took the lift.

Fetching my trolley and giving it a stern talking too, I pushed it through check in, said goodbye to it and moved my way to the nearest restaurant to have a stiff drink or get 'trollied' as I said to the barman and then fell about laughing. One thing I don't enjoy is strangers talking to me. Unless you want to buy me a drink or you're hot, I have no interest in listening to you or your absolute waffle. Choosing a seat next to a girl who looked like she was less of a talker than most, I whipped out my laptop and made it quite clear that I was very busy and important.

Girl: So where you flying too?

Sh*t

Me: Jo'burg.
Girl: Me TOO!

Since the next five flights were all bound for Jo'burg, I didn't find this as exciting as she did.

Girl: Do you live in Jo'burg?
Me: Yes.
Girl: Me too. I love coming to Cape Town but I get so sad to leave...

This was followed by five minutes of what she did in Cape Town, where she stayed, her job, her parents job, her friends job and some story about a squirrel which I didn't quite pick up. I had no choice but to beat her off Baglett style.

Me: I'm really sorry to interrupt you but I really have lots of work to do.

She leaned across to look at my laptop, not only violating my personal space issue but violating my laptops personal space too.

Girl: But you're playing Sims.
Me: So?
Girl: You said you were working.
Me: I am. I'm working and then I've got to go home and look after my three kids which I had with my neighbour who won't pay me maintenance. So I have to work hard to get a promotion so I can feed my children.

The chick was gone before I even got started on how I broke up my best friends marriage. If anything is going to scare off a chatter, it's a deranged Sims player.

NEW LAPTOP

Say 'hello' new laptop!

Silence

He's shy. Although there's nothing shy about this bad boys battery life or memory. AND I am also the proud owner of an external hard drive. A pretty ugly looking thing, but if it cuts down the chances of me losing my lifes work, then it suddenly becomes hot.

This wonderful piece of machinery was given to me by my brother, when after a much over dramatised version of my laptop crashing and using the phrase 'My life is over' again and again, he surprised me with a laptop that met all my needs and requirements.

My brother was down in Cape Town for a wedding so with my fear of FOMO in complete overdrive, I spent the week with the complete Baglett family. It doesn't happen often and it was vomit-inducingly cute. But it came to an swift end when yesterday, the brother had to get back on a flight. An hour before he was leaving I found my mother crying in the kitchen.

Me: Awww mom, don't cry. He'll be back next year.
Mom: Sniff. Why aren't you crying?
Me: Me? I'm tough mom. I chat to the guy online everyday and it's only a couple of months till he's back.
Mom: You're not the least bit sad?
Me: Naaaaah, I enjoyed this week with him and now it's time for him to go. It's too tiring to get sad everytime he comes and goes.

Dad: Baglett! Your brother's leaving. Baglett?
Brother: Where's Baglett?
Mom: 100 bucks says she's in the guest room and is hugging your luggage.
Brother: Get off my luggage Baglett.
Me: Don't goooooooooooooo.

Nothing says 'embarrassing and desperate' like your mom, dad, brother and his girlfriend staring at you while your wrap yourself round bags sobbing.

Dad: You're handling this well.
Mom: Where's my hundred bucks?
The Brother: I kinda need my luggage.

The Brother managed to loosen my grip, reclaim his luggage and went on his way. He phoned from the airport to say one final goodbye to my parents and suggested they didn't put me on the phone since it could throw me over the edge. I found my Dad sitting on the couch comforting a crying mom.

Me: Is it like this when I leave?
Dad: What do you mean 'when you leave'? It's like this everyday Baglett.

MONEY BAGS

While shopping with the Wine Merchant the other day, I came across a dress which was vital to my existence. A dress so beautiful and so unique that it could only be worn once. Convincing the Wine Merchant that this dress needed me more than I needed it, he bought it. This was followed by lunch and when the bill came, I pretended I had lost the power of sight and speech and fell off my chair. But when we went to Woolies and I asked him to pay for my monthly shopping, he was not charmed.

Wine Merchant: Baglett, where is your money?
Me: You've got it.
WM: No I don't.
Me: Well someone's got it.
WM: You've spent it haven't you?
Me: Hard to say.
WM: Do you budget at all?
Me: Do I what?
WM: I'll take that as a no.

What followed was horrendous. The Wine Merchant made me sit down and write down exactly what I had spent in the last month and on what. It was humiliating and quite shocking really.

WM: This wouldn't be so bad if you had done this years ago. Budgeting actually helps you Baglett.
Me: *Silence*
WM: Say something.
Me: Can I afford to talk?
WM: Don't be ridiculous. Let me see the list. BAGLETT! You spent R3000 on clothes!
Me: Not all in one day.
WM: And what exactly did you do at the spa that cost R2000?!
Me: Actually, I had a voucher for the spa so that doesn't count.
WM: How much was the voucher for Baglett?
Me: R250.00 BUT I got discounts because I bought products. Yaaaaa, probably shouldn't have told you that.

For the next two hours I was tortured with budget advice, excel spreadsheets and threats of switching to a cheaper hairdresser. When we had finished and I had cut down all my expenses, it made sense. Not that I would ever tell the Wine Merchant that. I took his advice to heart yesterday when I stopped to buy groceries and consciously bought refills rather than the new product. To reward myself I then went and bought a pair of shoes. Baby steps people, baby steps.

In other news:
Apologies for the sporadic posting this week people. My craptop is still having open hard drive surgery and so I'm whoring myself around Jo'burg using whatever poor sods computer I can get my hands on. Bear with me!

I WORKED WINEX

If you ever want to make me happy, take me to a convention centre filled with free wine. Winex in particular. I was beside myself with excitement on Friday night; grabbing my glass and moving from one amazing wine to the next, bumping into familiar faces along the way. My mother always taught me never to waste food, my Dad taught never to waste wine, so I don’t. Which perhaps isn’t the best idea when you’re tasting over a hundred wines. By 8 o clock, I was wafting through the convention centre, having lost all the people I came with, in search of food. The Wine Merchant found me at an olive stand dipping a loaf worth of bread into a bucket of olive oil.

WM: What are you doing?
ME: I’m starving! Where’s the food?
WM: This is a WINE festival, not a food festival Baglett.
ME: I’ve eaten every cracker this place has to offer.
WM: And now you’ve eaten all their olives and moved onto their bread stock.
ME: Well you shouldn’t pour people copious amounts of wine without giving them food.
WM: The idea is, Baglett, that you taste and then spit, you don’t have to drink everything you’re given.
WM: Shutup your face! That’s no fun at ALL! Shouldn’t you be at your stand rather than judging me for my obscene wine consumption?
WM: I need you to stand there for a few minutes while I talk to someone.
ME: Me?! Really?! Out of all these people?! I’m honoured!
WM: Well I’m desperate. And Baglett, it’s a stand, so STAND. Don’t sit there and drink the products.
ME: Can’t promise anything.

The excitement of being behind the stand as a fancy wine person rather than a lowly customer was just too much for me. I was now joining all wine experts round the world, just by standing there, I was becoming knowledgeable. I managed to convince myself that I was now a wine expert. I stood proudly at the stand, very aware of my new position, waiting for my first customer.

Me: Hi there
Customer: Evening, can I try your Chenin?

Awww MY Chenin.

Me: Of course!
Customer: Just a sip is fine. I don’t need a whole glass.
Me: I’ve got a ‘no stingy policy’ at my stand.
Customer: Well I’ve got a ‘not getting drunk policy’.

Tough crowd.

Customer: What grapes do you use?
Me: Green ones?
Customer: Riiiiiight. And barrels?
Me: Big ones.
Customer: No, what barrels are they kept in?
Me: Wooden ones.
Customer: You don’t know much about wine do you?
Me: I know I love it.
Customer: Do you even work in the industry?
Me: What do you mean!? I work the industry.

With the Wine Merchant in earshot and realising quickly I was doing him no favours, he rushed up to the stand.

WM: Hi sir, excuse Baglett, she does not in fact work for us, she was manning the stand.
Me: I was womanning the stand actually, no need for sexism.
WM: Baglett SIT!

Nothing worse than an angry Wine Merchant. Thankfully, from where I was sitting I was able to help myself to the world’s supply of crackers which helped to soak the litres of wine I had inhaled.

To sum up what I learned
- eat before tasting a gazillion wines
- try not to finish all the wine
- barrels in wine making are a very important factor in wine making, it’s not just about them being wooden apparently.

Don’t ever say I don’t teach you things.