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The year started badly for me and I realise that I’ve been wrong about many things, people and especially men.
Many of the folk I believed were kind and decent in 2009 have turned out to be petty little gossipers who lie about everyone just so they can seem relevant while you go on with your business knowing that it would make little impact if they suddenly dropped off the face of the earth.
But this column is about me saying I am sorry.
Sorry that you grew up poor while the rest of us made an effort to be part of the solution instead of the problem.
I am sorry that there are sunburnt white car guards who clearly did not benefit from apartheid and those black ones who think affirmative action is a security company.
Where were you folk? I am also apologetic to the men as I have called them cheats and deceitful to the core, but I might be wrong.
Many say men need no reason to have sex while women need a reason to spread them like butter.
But clearly folk have not met the girls I met this week.
One is so intent on giving us black women a bad name that she publicly flaunts her obese and sweaty married lover to all and sundry as if none of us have seen little pink pigs in clothes.
She is so possessed that she has had the audacity to go even further by describing the pictures to folk who did not see the sordid images of her and the married lover.
“Why not go out of town like the rest of us single women with married lovers?” asks my friend while trying to use a bar of green soap to remove her wedding ring before seeing somebody else’s man for the week.
She tells me one thing black people should never forget is ubuntu and that entails respect for the wife by not flaunting yourself with your lover like a sex-starved chicken – take a moment to imagine one.
“One should be so discreet that the married woman should be grateful to leave her husband with you without fear that he will come to any harm.
“Does this young woman honestly believe she is the only one screwing a married man?
“Please, most of the men who get sex these days are married and it’s not from their wives.”
For once I agree with the whore. You black women should always remember that the other races, especially whites, are laughing at us as we flaunt their rejected husbands in public.
Why is it that black women who date white men always end up with mediocre men who look pregnant while the sandal-wearing dreadlocked white sister who smells of vegetables will get a hot young black stud?
I say sorry to those black women.
I would also like to take this opportunity to apologise to the wives who will surely get even after such humiliation. But I have tips for you, darlings, so you don’t end up with an assault charge for hitting the husband-stealing whore:
Firstly, wifey, remember to always be a lady and not tell folk your business – half the time they think they know it anyway.
Remember that no woman can steal your man.
Never ever retaliate when a nyatsi wants attention by telling folk she has your man as you should know the truth.
Please always remember that your husband is your husband, not your girlfriend’s mate.
See, if you let your husband get too familiar with your slutty friends he will inevitably start paying their bills because you, wifey, made them feel all too familiar.
Your husband is your king, not the local slut society’s breadwinner – keep him away from skanks, especially your mates.
Stop befriending skanks. Stay at home and spend money or go to church or go play with orphans. You don’t need to validate how relevant you are by being at every party or having a comment about everybody’s business.
Don’t befriend girls beneath you as they will want what you have and, sadly, they believe that screwing your pink pig of a husband will make them important.
If you skanks read higher up you will see that I did tell you that men don’t need a reason to screw you.
So, really darlings, you are not that special if you are cosying up to a married man in public. Desperate for attention and somebody else’s money, but definitely not special.
Don’t marry a fat man with loads of money as he will start being full of himself and taking you for granted.
Rather opt for somebody as gorgeous as you and your age – and make the money together.
That is, if you are unlike some of us who come with our own.
Make your own money, wifey, and then hide it and spend his so you can both have your cakes and eat them too.
Well, that’s if you too like cake – I am more drawn to phallic symbols like the Eiffel Tower.
Remember to always remind skanks that it’s other folks’ jobs to embarrass them so they should calm down with airing their dirty laundry in public as we get to them eventually. I mean, really.
Unless your hubby asks you for a divorce, consider yourself married and remember you are a role model to your kids, so just continue with your fabulous life that she wants.
Ladies, I am sorry that some of our black women are so desperate for men and that President Zuma is not marrying all of us.
Actually, Zuma should encourage or rather enforce polygamous marriages in all the provinces so all of us hot single girls can get husbands too – our own this time.
Ladies, I’m sorry that most of these men will probably look like Zuma too.
Well, I hope this year those who are cheating will be more respectful to the wives.
Think ubuntu when you cheat, girls. Bet you I’m going to be sorry for that statement as well.
Who shot the sheriff?Ok, who stabbed Zola and why are folk still throwing bricks at windows or beating each other up, especially in this heat?
A male friend of mine was recently slapped by two dizzy yet pretty twin sisters and instead of retaliating – like some folk who admit “I was already shoving her out of the same window she used to climb in” – this guy ran and locked himself in the toilet.
He was sober and they were not and we laughed and rolled on the floor for hours, laughing at him.
OK, it was only 10 minutes, but it was hilarious to see a grown man run as if being chased by demons.
When he eventually popped his head out of the loo to check if the coast was clear of the demons. .. I mean twins, he explained to us that you never under any circumstances hit a woman.
Wow.
What a man he is.
I disagree as Genghis Khan had a sister who enjoyed disemboweling [removing body parts] peasants and I’d have slapped the s**t out of her and pushed her off a moving camel.
Ladies, don’t hit men as they might hit you back and, guys, grow some balls and never raise a hand to a woman.
Besides, it’s too hot to be exhausting yourselves like dirty, smelly beasts.
Don’t dice with Mr DiceI recently ordered Mr Dice Pizzas – home delivery, as some of us are lazy.
I told them I had a R200 note and needed change, thanked them and admired my dimples on my phone screen.
Forty minutes later a gentleman arrived with delicious-smelling pizza and no change.
When I told him that I’d told them I had a specific note he said he did not care and demanded to know where he was supposed to get change.
He yelled at me for a while and I said: “Yhu! Suddenly I’m not hungry,” and left him there with the hot pizza.
I phoned Mr Dice again and placed the same order with only one request: that it be a different delivery person who was not going to treat me like a servant sent on an errand by her white madam.
This time I didn’t ask for change but gave it to him as a tip. Guys, we are all workers.
Please don’t treat me like a little girl just because I am female, don’t wear French brands, am short and look rural.
I did go to school by the way.
Oooh, loved the pizzas.
2010 is my year to learn to cook. Really.
I am puzzled againWhy is it that when you need your insurance to pay for a claim they come up with stories?
I was recently involved in a car crash – no, I’m not dead. You’re reading me are you not?
Just slightly bruised, but by now you should all know that I love a good bruise as it’s as sexy as hell.
Anyway, I caused it as we all err.
But when it came to asking my insurance to pay they said my policy had lapsed. What?
Why on earth would I do that when I have so many responsibilities and a man who loves me like a fat kid loves cake?
Why would I not pay them? The agreement was for them to debit my account, which always has money.
Mostly the banks’ money, but that’s not the point.
So as I sit here I am wondering how I am going to pay for two cars on my salary.
I was thinking of going up and down Oxford in a mini skirt.
But if anyone has any ideas please mail them to me as it’s far too hot to be vulgar and discussing money in this heat.
Lapsed my arse!
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