Category: humour


i have a number of friends with whom i often have completely random conversations

this was one my friend Simon remembered us having online. i stole it from his blog


My boyfriend is from the USA, and I take every opportunity to teach him and his kinfolk about South Africa, leaving verbose comments beneath is status. I had an ally teacher today in Kimstories, and this is how the conversation went.

 BF’s status was:

Don’t know why people were scared to come to Johannesburg for the World Cup #wc2010. Wal Mart is SO much scarier!!!!

And so the comments beneath, for the benefit of globalisation and learning were as follows:

Simon: There’s no elephants in the USA – how can it be scary? There are loads in Jozi. That’s why I use Fourways Mall. You can park your elephant for free for 2 hours.

Kimstories: only if it has a dual saddle Simon

Simon: Hahahaha Kim are you joking? Who the hell still uses a single saddle? Durban’s not THAT far behind Joburg, surely? By the way I owe you a mail. The post wagon is leaving on Saturday. It should be in Durban by Tuesday.

Kimstories: In Durban our elephants are smaller so we do the single saddle thing. I know – its so embaressing! I iwll look out for the post wagon – i think it will be behind the milk delivery cows

Simon: I tried sending a letter with the milk delivery last week but they get a bit gumpy (it’s not really their responsibility, I suppose) so I went with the July post wagon. I am so excited. You know that big-ass building in Joburg where them silver things come out the sky to? They carry post too, but it’s expensive.

Kimstories: the milk delivery doesn’t come from jhb to durban – they tried that once and now the zuzlus think maas is on purpose

Simon: The post wagon was delayed last month because the zebra that pulls it got sick. It was so hectic. We couldn’t send out our financial papyrus. The Durban hunter-gatherers owe us three fish and two cows in interest.

Kimstories: you guys charge some scary interest rates. i have been asked to negotiate a sugar cane settlement (and thats not a place people live)

Simon: Last time we went down to the sugar cane fields the elephants wouldn’t go into it because of the cane rats. Why do we use animals who are scared of rodents as transport?

Kimstories: don’t blame the rats for the elephant neuroses
the elephants are such girls


And this is why the Yanks think we have ellies running down the streets of Joburg. Don’t be surprised when the next tourist asks you where the parking lot for them is.

today’s funny

Rude awakening

Five of us lived in the small dingy house in Dollis Hill. Typical South Africans abroad. Hylton and I shared a tiny room and I can’t remember where the others all slept. Perhaps on couches. We had 2 small bedrooms, a tiny lounge, a poky kitchen, and, most importantly, one bathroom which contained the bath and the loo.R used to hide in the bath, reading for hours, sleeping and generally causing constipation in all of us. One day Hylton and I decided enough was enough and knocked on the bathroom door to hassle him out of it. When he didn’t answer we knew the bugger had fallen asleep. We crept into the bathroom and found R fast asleep in the bath. The warm, gently steamy water lapped over his belly as in inhaled and exhaled, his penis awash in the warm water as it curled, like a large silkworm, on his belly, exposed and afloat. H and I looked at each other and immediately had out evil plan. We crept from the bathroom stifling giggles.

In the kitchen we removed the water bottle from the fridge and poured a litre of cold water into a jug. It took us minutes to calm down, frantically telling each other to shhhushhh as we fell about in fits of giggles. Eventually we contained ourselves enough to be able to creep back into the bathroom silently.

We unceremoniously dumped a litre of fridge water onto R’s comfortable warm penis as he lay sleeping in the bath.

I think R was standing upright before he was awake. The shock, horror and disbelief, coupled with extreme discomfort and total confusion were evident in his still sleeping but open eyes. Hylton and I were unable to stand we were laughing so hard. As R realised what had happened he started throwing anything he could find at us as we crawled, hysterical, from the bathroom.

The next day R bought and installed a slide lock on the bathroom door and I made friends with the neighbours rather than start peeing in the garden.

playing with the suburbanites

Oh I do love to play with people

I do


On Friday night there I was all whore-like with my short skirt, red lips and black wig talking to the generally rather proper parents at my nephews’ primary school. Some nice people but also a bunch who really think the size of their car counts in terms of their value as human beings.


Anyway – some of the parents I know and many of them did not recognise me. Partly cos of the wig etc and partly cos there is so much less of me than there was last time I saw them. I was standing with a group of people when someone I knew came along. At first she did not recognise me but when she did she let out an excited squeal. In a middle aged drunken way she slung her arm over my shoulder and addressed the whole group.


‘I don’t want to embarrass kim,’ she slurs, ‘but she has just lost like a huge amount of weight. What is it Kim – must be 30 kilos.’

‘Yip’ said I

‘Wow’, said members of the group with that weird combination of enevy and i-wish-i-could-stab-you-in-the-eye-right-now look people get when they hear of the loss.

‘How did you do it?’


‘Cocaine’ says I as I turn and leave the group


I couldn’t resist

who stole the rainbow?

There I was, living my little heterosexual life, minding my own business. I was ‘straight but supportive’ and walked in a few marches in solidarity. The usual you know.

‘I don’t care who you sleep with, I’m just very comfortable on my side of the fence’

‘Live and let live’

‘Rah rah equality’ – you know, all that shit

And then one day I realised the bloody gays had stolen the rainbow. How the fuck did that happen? It’s a natural phenomenon and now suddenly stripes of colour mean gay. So now the gays have:

Very pretty boys

Good hair

Fashion sense

Interior design skills

Loads more money cos they don’t have kids

Fabulous apartments

Zippy sports cars

And the rainbow? The RAINBOW

What next – a buff moffie prince charming knocking the princess out of the way to get to the equally buff butler, all while riding a gleaming unicorn, perhaps followed by a herd of pink dyed bunnies.

And what do we straights get? Men who have burping farting competitions while burning meat on the braai, remote control surgically attached to the hand not holding the beer. At best they will drive up in a clapped out old Cortina and hoot at the gate for us to come outside, scratching their balls while waiting. No bouncing hair reflecting the setting sun from atop a Pegasus for us!

Straights – we got shafted!

It is time to steal that rainbow back – it’s the thin edge of a slippery wedge (or something)

shaven haven

An article i wrote for a website a few years ago

Shaven Haven. Bald Beaver. Smooth Snatch. A lack of pubic hair is now the norm for young women and is generally desired by men, considered more hygienic by women and better looking by both. How did that happen? In one generation, the bush got beaten. And we didn’t resist or even see it happen. I decided it was time to look at how and why this happened.

As twelve or thirteen year olds, girls are given THAT ‘adolescent speech’. While squirming with embarrassment and trying not to think of our parents actually doing IT, we are told that our bodies are going to go through some changes. Part of these changes are a thickening and darkening of the hair in our armpits and pubic area. Our moms probably told us that we should shave our legs and armpits as that hair is on display and ugly. What our moms probably didn’t tell us was that at the age of twenty or so we will shave all of our pubic hair off and return in some ways to our twelve year old selves, just with breasts. So with our most intimate partners, in times of great connection as well as times of random fucking, we are going to portray a sanitised scraped clean, childlike version of ourselves.

But its cleaner that way I hear you all shout. Cleaner??? Cleaner than what? We all have head hair. Is that smelly and dirty? No. We live in an age of regular showers and ever present loo paper. There is no reason why any woman in the 21st century who is in a position to read this article should ever have a smelly vajayjay. We have access to cleaning materials for daily cleanliness and doctors should some S.T.D sneak through a condom. Pubic hair is part of our design and exists to catch the pheromones we exude. By denying that most female and fertile of smells as natural, we are creating an even more sanitised version of ourselves to present to lovers. They may as well go stick their dicks in a speculum. All shiny, smooth and clean. It’s supposed to be soft and hairy and smell like a woman.

But back to what men want. Perhaps pubic hair does require some delicate manoeuvring when torpedo tonguing, but honestly, is everything we women do for men a picnic? Do guys have any idea how often their dicks whiff of urine? Do they not know that their farts get stuck in their jocks sometimes, only to be released later, hideously matured, in our faces? Blow jobs are not all sweet smelling and roses you know. And let’s not even start on what sperm tastes like. I think parting a little hair to get at the important bits while going down on a woman should hardly be considered a huge issue in comparison. But apparently men don’t want to have pubic hair in their way. I ask you though, if there is no hair can we still call it muff diving, a fur burger or even a beaver? We are going to have to think of new words for these fabulous bits of slang, somehow going ‘smooth surfing’ rather than ‘muff diving’ just doesn’t sound as sexy.

The shaven haven is also considered to simply look better. What we think looks good, is beautiful or desirable, is not a personal decision much as we like to think it is. It’s a social construct. Different countries of people find different things attractive. They have to. If every person you ever see has green eyebrows, you damn well better find them sexy or you are never gonna want any. And that’s not good for the propagation of the human race. The image of the perfect woman has been through many manifestations. The Mona Lisa has no eyebrows, Rubin’s women were plump and curly haired, the models of the sixties were rake thin, porn queens of the seventies had copious amounts of pubic hair and now it’s all about smooth and clean shaven. The men at every stage mentioned found what was prolific, sexy. And now young men find bald beaver sexy. And they really do. It’s just important that they, and we, know it’s a fashion thing. Just like big hair and leg warmers in the eighties. We shudder when we think of that and perhaps we will shudder as forty year olds in the 2020s to think of what we did to our pubic hair.

And let’s all hope like hell that this constant, and unnatural, scraping of this most sensitive skin, together with constant touching by our clothing, doesn’t desensitise that area. Wouldn’t it be a cruel irony if all this de-hairing for the sake of men, perceived aesthetics and hygiene resulted in decreased sexual pleasure for us eventually? That’ll teach us to pander to men and fashion!

I blame porn for the popularity of the shaven haven. Air brushed fantasy women images abound. No one has labia like those so graphically exposed in skin mags like Hustler. And many women don’t know this. Most of us have only ever seen our own genitalia and have no idea that we are probably perfectly normal and the image on the page or screen is the one that isn’t. So we have managed to find yet another situation in which we can attempt to emulate this fantasy perfect woman and fail. How fucking brilliant of us. Now we have to be perfect working women, mothers and social creatures, ladies in the living room and shaven whores in the bedroom. Any more unnatural pressure we wanna put on ourselves? Cummon, surely we can handle more before collapsing in a self-hating heap. Sex seems to no longer be about how comfortable and connected we feel with a partner, or about how rampantly horny we are, but about worrying about leg hair, armpit hair, pubic hair, smell and taste. Why oh why have we created yet another restriction and let an addition prerequisite creep in?

But, considering that when asked, most American girls interviewed said they thought that Barbie, plastic sealed smooth fanny and all, was one of the two perfect bodies to aspire towards (the other being Britney, pre weight gain and psychological breakdown) it would appear that I alone stand hairy and proud.
The idea of this article is not to stop or even criticize women who do shave. It rather seeks to ask you shaven women to examine and know why you do it. And if you are okay with the ‘why’, than carry on. It’s your choice, that’s the point


i live alone cos its how i like to live. i could live with people if i chose to but it suits me better to be alone. i like being on my own. i like being in control of my environment. dammit – i like being in charge. and the longer i live alone, the more i like it

so these last two weeks have been tough. i was in jhb for a week for work. i stayed with a mate. she then came to debben with me and we joined mutual friends for a week’s holiday

holiday was great. beach was lovely. wine and weed awesome

BUT ffs!!!!! i just want to be alone

i am going slowly bananas in a most grumpy fashion at having people around me all the time; making their own noises; not lifting their feet when they walk; turning on the tv on volume 3 million while i am still asleep; leaving the shower floor went and soapy

in otherwords – just being

i wish they would go BE somewhere else

hermit – yip, i am

and so very happily so

road trip

i have travelled, in my time, some miles. miles of them in fact.

some of them have been road trips. i love road trips. going to the shop can be a road trip if you want it to be.

today i road tripped from jhb to debben. on the first day of my leave. tomorrow is tri-nations and sunday leisure bay for 9 days. it trip down to debben was the start of the holiday. ROAD TRIP –

but with a difference

i drove down with my mate and her two kids. and ankles. the baby kid is nine months old

things i learnt today:

nine month old babies can cry for a hour. non stop. loudly.

that was a road trip that will be a very funny story in six months time – right now i am exhausted