Local is lekker - Sarah Lotz

Reading makes me happy. It's just a fact.

Add to that the fact that everyone seems to be having book sales right now and it's the Cape Town Book Fair this weekend, and I'm physically salivating.

Last week we looked at local author, Henrietta Rose-Innes. So I thought we'd try another one.

This is Sarah Lotz:

I met her for the first time at the Franschhoek Literary Festival last year, and instantly went out and bought her first book, Pompidou Posse.


Fab cover hey?

It's about two girls, Vicki and Sage who go on the run in Paris. They live on the streets, smoke, drink and cause hell. They basically do whatever they can to survive on the mean and dirty streets of Paris.

It's dark and twisty, a little morbid and very dirty. (I mean dirty gritty, not dirty porny, although it does have it's fair share of sexual predators etc.)

I really enjoyed it. I've spent some time in Paris, so it had that familiarity, but that's where the similarities to my travel experiences ended. It's kind of cool to get to dip a toe into how the other half lives and see a little of the dodgy, dirty side of Paris, as opposed to the glitzy glamorous side you usually see.

Next Sarah brought out Exhibit A last year:

And as we speak, her latest book is just launching around the country, it's the next in the Exhibit A series - it's called Tooth and Nailed:

(There's a launch for it tonight at Kalk Bay Books, and another launch at The Book Lounge on Thursday the 5th August if you're interested and in the hood. Should be fun.)

I've done things a little arse about face, as usual, and haven't read Exhibit A yet, but I just finished Tooth and Nailed last night.

It revolves around George Allan, a lawyer a bit down on his luck, and his dog, Exhibit A. It's their adventures and misadventures.

New clients and new story lines make it different to Exhibit A, the first in the series. But I never felt like I was in the dark, so it's clearly not one of those series where you have to read one before you read the next.

I've heard rumours that they're turning the series into a local television series, which I think would be very cool.

It's light reading, funny and interesting. George's clients are a strange bunch - a BEE author who's being blackmailed, a rich gay man going through a bit of an ugly divorce and a fascinating case where a small child is attacked by a hyena.

There are some great attacks on masochistic cyclists which had me giggling, and just the right amount of use of the word 'scrolfing'.

It's rather moreish and has a very sneaky ending.

I recommend.

Enjoy the Cape Town Book Fair if you're going.

Read on and rock on.

Psycho statues

We all know by now, i'm partial to some psycho shit.

But this takes the cake.

Great, wonderful, superb friend 'Dummy' sent me these images. The Devil only knows where he found them.

Some genius out there is making these psycho sculptures:





A couple months ago in another post i mentioned how an ex boyfriend once gave me a small porcelain sculpture of dolphins frolicking in a small porcelain ocean:




At the time I was horrified. Now I see that things could have been worse. He could have given me one of these:

The details are quite remarkable. I especially like the splatters of blood on her perfect porcelain dress.

Ah yes, a porcelain beheading. Why not?

They remind me a little of this book, which has become a bit of of a cult best seller:

According to Mr and Mrs Wikipedia - Pride and Prejudice and Zombies is a 2009 novel by Seth Grahame-Smith. It's a mashup combining Jane Austen's classic 1813 novel, Pride and Prejudice, with modern zombie fiction. Austen is credited as co-author, as she should be.

While I'm sure it's not the way she ever imagined her opus, it's still hers at the end of the day, so i'm pleased she was credited. Shame, do you think she's turning in her grave somewhere, or just lying there planning on making her zombie revenge on Seth Graham-Smith?

Sleep with one eyeball open, Seth Graham-Smith, sleep with one eye open.

ADDENDUM TO POST: Chris on Twitter just kindly pointed out that these are made by this clever lady, named Jessica Harrison. Here is her website. Love her stuff to bits. Apologies for not linking to her originally, the pictures were emailed to me by a friend, and I wasn't able to find their source until now. Many thanks for the heads up, Chris.

clients from hell

it's that time of the week, where we absolutely, most definitely, have to have some stuff from clients from hell. my all-time most favouritest of websites.

Oh how i love you, Clients from Hell, the most geniusest of websites.

Happy Wednesday all. Just think, things could be worse, you could have a poo fetish!

x

The hair of virgins

I live in Cape Town.

The other day i was driving up Strand Street, in the centre of town and I noticed this place:


It's your pretty average, run of the mill South African beauty salon.

As the signs say, you can get your nails, hair or beauty done there.

Wait a second... what the fuck?

100% Virgin Human Hair Extensions?

Really? Seriously?

That's some crazy shit.

That must be fucking expensive hair if it only comes from 100% virgins!

And what's a 90% virgin? One has to ask.

So very many questions.

I've heard of cigars rolled in the thighs of virgins, but never this.

Do you think the hair comes with a certificate to officially declare that it comes from a genuine

virgin?

And is virgin hair somehow different to non virgin hair? I wouldn't know, i can't remember that far back. Bwahahahahahhaha!

They also had this sign on their door:

See, they're looking for a 'Beauty Theraphist' and also a 'Shampoo Operator'.

I've been applying shampoo my entire adult life, i wonder if that qualifies me as a 'Shampoo Operator'?

Ha, one more time for kicks:



Cracks me up every time!

Captain Underpants

Henry VIII was the King of England, back in the day. (He lived from 1491 – 1547.)



He's also infamous for the fact that he had six wives. Two of whom he beheaded. (Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard.)



Don't worry it's not History Monday, there's a reason for all this.



I found these underpants somewhere online and I think they're awesome:













Henry the VIII and Anne Boleyn underpants. How rocking is that? I so want a pair. I don't know why. I don't even wear underpants. But these do it for me. How fricken cool.

Dudes in the world, if any of you come up to me wearing these underpants, I can't guarantee it, but i'm pretty sure you'll get lucky. I'm just sayin'. They are awesome.

Hang on, hang on, hang on.

He was the king. He ruled with an iron fist. He was a little bit mad. And he had six wives...

Remind you of anyone?





Although Zuma Underpants somehow don't have the same effect.

What do you do?

You find a wallet with R10 000 cash in it.

Nobody sees you.

The owner's contact details are also in the wallet.

What do you do?

The abominable sales call

Cell phone rings. I don't recognise the number. I answer:

ME: Hello, Paige speaking.
STRANGER'S VOICE: Hello, how are you?
ME: I'm not interested.

I want to know who wrote 'The Sales Call Manual' that all tele-sales people are working from these days?

Then I want to go to that person's house and shove my foot up his (or her) ass. Twice.

Why on earth would that opening line soften someone up for a sale? Who says that works? All it does is irritate. If you're calling me and you don't know me, you should state your buisness, don't pretend to be a mate. It's creepy.

Stop calling me. I do not want to buy your cell phone contract/wheelie bin/medical aid scheme/funeral insurance/stokvel/pyramid scheme/credit card/airtime/insurance package/Herbalife.

If I did, I would track down your number and call you myself. And when you answered, I would say: 'Hello, how are you?'

phuza thursday

Hey, it's Phuza Thursday.

Yipeee, whooopeee, weeehhhaaa, fuck yeah.

By the time thursday rolls around, who doesn't need a big fat old glass of wine?

That's why you're going to love this glass that this clever lady I follow on twitter found via this clever chap.

It's a wine glass that holds a full bottle of wine. Oh yeah baby. For when just an ordinary sized hangover won't do. Put your phuza face on.

Bad day? This is exactly what you need.

Promise hubby you'll only have one glass tonight? Then this is definitely the glass you need.

Happy Phuza, party people.

Local is lekker - Henrietta Rose-Innes

I've been reading a lot lately.
Maybe it's because it's winter, when we hibernate more and go out less.
Maybe it's because I'm between manuscripts. I'm waiting for a report from my editor on the latest one, so we can start editing, and not quite ready to start on the next one yet, which is still stewing.
So, there's been a lot of reading going down.
And much of what I've been reading, i'm proud to say, is local.

I try to alternate - one international, one local, repeat. It's a good way to keep things fresh.

So I thought since today is a quiet Wednesday, I'd take the opportunity to try out a new segment here at A Million Miles from Normal, where we look at a local author. Good idea? Shitty ideas? Let me know.

Some time last year, or was it the year before, who can tell? A little book at the bottom of the pile at a meeting of The Good Book Appreciation Society, caught my eye:



It's by this lady - Henrietta Rose-Innes:



Nobody else in the club had read it, and we weren't even sure where it had come from. We discussed culling it, to make way for newer, shinier books. The cover was strange and didn't really appeal to anyone.

But it wasn't a thick book, I'd heard raves about Henrietta's writing somewhere along the way, and it had JM Coetzee's stamp of approval on the cover. So I gave it a bash. It felt wrong to cull it before any of us had even tried it.

So I took it, and I loved it.

It's a dark and twisty, moody, sexy story, set in a Cape Town I really recognised. It involves the aquarium, a bit of a love triangle and an often stormy sea. It's poetic and gorgeous, and totally readable.

So I returned it to the club with a rave review. It flew around The Good Book Appreciation Society with great ease, and everybody loved it. Check it out here if you're interested in finding out more.

So then we sought out more stuff she'd written. The Rock Alphabet came next:



As infinitely readable and enjoyable as Shark's Egg. It's about two small boys who are found hiding feral-like in a cave in the Cederberg mountains. Some years later, all grown up, the one brother is living in the city, but is haunted by the loss of his vanished brother.

hmmmm oh so intriguing, and so worth the read.

And now, oh joy, Henrietta has brought out something new. A book of short stories:



It was officially launched last week. I just finished it, and I really fricken dug it. There's something so lovely about picking up short stories every now and then. Particularly after a run of thick or hard core books. Her stories are amazingly woven. They're delightful, surprising, suspensful, thought-provoking, inspiring and easy to read. And as always I love the ones set in Cape Town, just for their sheer familiarity. 'Porcelain' was my favourite story of the collection, I think. Or maybe it was the one about the boulder? Sheesh so much to like.

Henrietta Rose-Innes, is a fantastic local author, who's worth picking up and checking out. She's won a bunch of awards and prizes for her writing, but beyond that she just writes lekker stuff.

Anyone got any recommendations of other great local authors to check out next?

The booze bra

Overheard in the studio the other day:


GUY 1: Look, they've invented a bra that can hold a litre of booze.

GUY 2: Wow. Cool.

GIRL 1: What kind of slag would wear a litre of booze in her bra?

GUY 2: I wouldn't call her a slag.

GUY 3: No, I think she sounds quite nice, actually.

Someone has invented a Booze Bra. It's called 'The Wine Rack', and it holds up to 750ml and comes with a straw attached to the watertight tubing inside the cups.



Apparently it can inflate a girl's chest by up to two sizes.

Hey, surely you would notice if over the course of the night your chick's boobs got smaller by two sizes. Although on second thoughts, but then you're probably so tanked you can't even stand up straight, let alone judge your chick's cup size.

According to this article; 'They are leak proof and totally water tight or booze tight as the case may be.'


And - 'The drinking tube has a stop start button which is siphoned off from the tubing around the bra.'


I've barely got space in my bra for my boobs, let alone a litre of scotch.

The punability is endless on this one:
- BYOB - bring your own boobs.
- Forget cup size, girls now have wine glass size.
- My cup runneth over.

okay, enough of that.

But while doing research on that i did find this:

The Bacon Bra! Now we're talking!

Oddly specifically hilarious

Brave Client alerted me to a bizarre phenomenon whereby signs have become oddly specific.


I did some research and discovered that there is an entire website devoted to these oddly specific signs. oddlyspecific.com to be oddly specific.

Thank goodness for signs such as this. Otherwise how would we ever know that was a pond. Eureka.

Penguins eh? My but that's specific. Not tortoises, not baboons, but penguins. Oddly specific that.

Caution: This sign has some very stupid readers.

Yup, the only way this sign could be any more oddly specific would be if they added the oddly specific names of each of the nude sunbathers who might be encountered eating waffles: Nigel, Doris, Peter, Florence etc.

While definitely oddly specific, this sign still leaves me with some unanswered questions. Like where is that? and - What the hell's going on there? and - Huh?

okay, so oddly specific, yet somehow incredibly creepy at the same time. Who out there shits like that? I mean I'm sorry to be crude, but serius, who's doing that? And please stopit.

another oddly specific toilet sign. Bwahahahaha look, it's wrong to wear your peak cap backwards, but perfectly acceptable to wear it facing the right way, while peeing like a chick.

Oddly specifically strange.

Oh Jim Stone, did she break your oddly specific heart? Shame man!

Note to self: Must keep hopes up at all times.

I love that one. I think we should put it up everywhere.

If there's one thing that makes a person in despair feel more despairing, it's being told that they shouldn't despair, am I right?

But of course. Isn't that always something we should be aware of?

Okay, now I'm really Jonesing for a 'Rice Dick'. What do you think that is?

So incredibly incredibly oddly specific. Love, love, love it. If I ever own my own business, i'm totally going to do that.

If I had a rand for every time i threw a rooster into someone's garden, sheesh, I'd be totally loaded!

Oi, Nuns, run this way. Everybody else, go that way!

Awesome! So glad I was warned. Although the bright orange prison issue jumpsuit, bleeding wound, or shiv made out of a spoon can often also be a useful guide to recognising escaped inmates. Or so I'm told.

I need one of those for my next birthday party. 25! Not 30! Not 35+!

There's just something comforting about an oddly specific sign, don't you think? Like you always know exactly what you're getting. Love it.