Lolo go bye-bye!

As much as I love my 'net verbal diarrhoea sessions, there's a dose of Immodium coming my way, so to speak. That's because I'm off to Canadia, to hunt down that hot man I met on Saturday. Just in case I don't find him, I'll pop in at my best friend's place for two weeks, then head back home in despair at the lost love opportunity.

As much as pals rave about their lives overseas, they're all reduced to shameless pleading and begging for such simple SA stuff that we don't think twice about. "Rooibos please!" "Peppadews on the double!" "Ten Inside Stories to go!" Don't these funny "first world" places sell food? Eh? We're really lucky in deepest darkest black Africa, I guess. No hashbrown is gonna get anywhere near my plate, ever.

(Alright, I'll admit, I've been asked by an almost equal number of peeps back here to bring them stuff from this "first world" place. Hats, chocolates, fancy razors. Fair swap, I guess.)

Right, I'm off to pack. Sunnies - check. Cozzie - check. (Just to point out that I'm escaping the winter, to rub it in all your faces). Anti-terrorist spray - damn! I'm all out, so hold thumbs for me!