Schizophrenic Blondie... The comedian.

The weather is weird. It's been sunny with freezing wind. Did Mother Nature not get the memo? It's SPRING!
I must admit though, I haven't seen a crisper morning. It's beautiful. I'm sitting on my balcony looking out into the distance. The buildings and trees actually have outlines. There's no blurry haze or smog. It's lovely.

I had a seriously chilled weekend. It was awesome. Lots of braai meat and lots of wine. Sunday was couch potato day. I didn't get out of my pajama's until this morning. In fact, this weekend was so chilled, I was actually boring.
Boring was welcomed into my life with open arms. I embraced it lovingly, but I don't want it hanging around me too much.

Right so, I am interviewing a few comedians this week. Honestly, I'm dreading it. I'm dreading it because I don't know what comes over me. I'll be introduced to the comedian and I automatically become hilarious. I think so anyway. I have no idea why I do this. I am NOT a comedian and yet I suddenly start practising "material" on them. Oh my God, it's is mortifying.
I actually have screaming matches in my head.
Blondie: Shut the fuck up. You. are. not. funny. What is wrong with you?
Blogshell: Hahahahahhaha - oooh wait, let me say this. That will make them drop to the floor in hysteria.
Blondie: Oh my God! You are embarrassing yourself. Seriously. Shut up. Stop moving your tongue. Get on with it.
Blogshell to comedian: So, I have a joke for you..
Blondie interrupts: Seriously? You're not doing this! I can't take another minute of this. Pleeeease!! Stop!
Blogshell, ignoring inner voice: So, 2 snowman are walking in a field. The one snowman says to the other: Dude, you're right! I can also smell carrots! Wahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahhaha!!!!
Blondie: I officially divorce myself from you.

The worst part? I kill myself laughing at my own jokes. They're horrible jokes and ironically I only ever remember the horribly BAD ones. I can't remember "cool, awesome, wow -you have-the-best-sense-of-humour-and-you're-such-a-funny-joke-teller" jokes. Noooo. I remember the horrible, cringe worthy ones.
When I say I kill myself laughing...I literally wipe away the tears.
I don't know why I do this when I can visibly see the comedians looking at me and their agents/posse nervously with the look: Did she just escape from a mental asylum?
I cringe at myself, but I am unstoppable!

And the new champion is....

We don't have ONE medal in the Olympics. Um...seriously?
Even Zimbabwe has medals. 3 of them.
I am so disappointed. Maybe if Rugby and Cricket were Olympic sports we'd have a chance.
Don't get me started on the politics we have in our sporting systems in this country! Argh!

I'd like to create new sports for the Olympics. Like:

• Couch Potato sports for men. You have to time how quickly you can grab a beer, the remote control, scratch your balls, lift your leg to fart and shout at the ref on TV.
• Couch Potato sports of women. A timed event to see how quickly we can paint our nails, read a glossy magazine, while E! Entertainment is on TV and chatting on the phone.
• How big a bubble you can blow with bubblegum?
• Monopoly games or Twister.
• Pillow fighting

I'd win most of these (OK, not the couch potato sports for men, let's get real.) I'd be an Olympic champion. I'd have a hero's welcome with all my Gold medals around my neck! Just call me Bling Blogshell! And the crowd goes wild....

1 more day of madness. My body is seriously pissed off with me. I forgot to invite it to the conference where we decided to work at the most ridiculous hours! It's wanting to go on strike and it's vicious. My body is in cahoots with my eyelids and my mouth, which yawns at any given moment. Dangerous moments, like when my boss walks in with clients. Good times.