Category Archives: Humor

OMG it’s like totally a sign I need to buy new knickers…

I was just scrolling through my Facebook feed and saw a post saying “In God We Trust” and thought “…and then they vote for Trump,” which I found hilarious (my sense of humor is what it is…). Then I pressed the “New Posts” thingy in my feed and a friend of mine had just posted a photo of Forbes magazine saying “In Trump They Trust.”

So, what did that mean?

It means what I make it up to mean.

Have you ever thought about people and events, even places, as catalysts? I do. I have a hyper active mind. I see everything as a possibility to learn. I meet a guy, an emotion is sparked, I walk off and dissect it. I have a biz meeting, an idea nags me, I walk off and dissect it. I go somewhere, a thought is triggered, I walk off and dissect it. Everything sparks something. Some things are comfortable, others aren’t. I want to learn from them all so that each event leads to something better, because I’m somewhere better. That makes life exciting because it means everything takes me forward (apart from when I have a total mind-fuck that is…though that so never happens to me…like ever…erm).

However, it’s one thing seeing things as catalysts and learning from them, maybe thinking they have something to do with where you’re at on your journey, i.e. a “sign”  (because people tend to react to what we give out, meaning a lot of people in our life are a mirror to where we’re at and we only tend to open the door for people who resonate with us on some level or another – be it our wounds, or our heart), another to see them as divine guidance.

I mean what did the thing on Facebook mean? I messaged my friend to tell him about it. Maybe I needed to contact him? Maybe I am psychic? Maybe I needed to write this blog? Who knows. No one. But we can make the most of life by always believing things are signs for us to create something great. Like everything’s an opportunity to create magic. Because it is. Even that meeting that totally sucked and that date you totally fucked up.

Just moments before in my beloved Facebook feed I also saw a post that was a really weird animation (check it out at your own risk) that reminded me of how certain so-called conscious people speak to people who they wish to have a “romantic moment” with.

“Look the ocean is so powerful. And it’s so relaxing to watch it. You look tense. Come on, sit down and relax with me. You know you can relax with me, right? I appreciate you. And thank you for sitting here with me. It means a lot to me you trust me like that. (both people simultaneously look up at a bird which chirps) I just love our connection. We’re so in tune. I’m blessed to share this moment with you. Life’s perfect right now if we just let go of everything else, isn’t it? This is so relaxing. Let’s breathe together. Can you feel that? We’re like so energizing each other right now. Oh, look a dolphin! That’s a sign. We’re totally meant to share this moment. I’m so blessed to have you in my life. OMG. This is like so special. We’re totally having a moment right now.”

OK, so I’m exaggerating (kind of like Shit a New Age Girl Says which has had me laughing since 2012 or so). People sometimes throw around a lot of big empty words though and it sounds…wrong. The thing is, when people say some of these things and mean them, they really are special words. And if you see a dolphin together, you can make that a special moment. The more poetry and specialness you find together, the more likely you are to stick together (and if you’re two peas in a pod, it makes it a lot easier as you’ll find the same kind of moments special). However, the dolphin doesn’t mean you’re soulmates. You’re making that up. And the more you make that up together, the more right it’ll feel.

The issue comes when people are making things up that really don’t serve them. It really doesn’t help to make up someone is your soulmate because you saw a dolphin if the person doesn’t agree, or if you’re destroying each other’s lives.

We also generally tend to find what we’re looking for. My kids recently played “the mini game” with someone – finding mini-Coopers in the street. Now everywhere we go, they are seeing minis. Before they didn’t see a single one, because they weren’t looking for them.

What does me seeing that weird animated video mean? I am contemplating writing a script about conscious coupling and it totally added fuel to my fire (inspiration). It could be a sign. So could an article about dating conscious men that I found last week. Had I not been looking for fuel for my fire I might have missed both. They could, of course, also be divine signs I should make the movie. Or even better: that I’ll win an Oscar (it’s OK – I’ll soon find a proper sign for that. Sooner than you know it someone will say something related to the Oscars…) Who knows? I’ll choose to believe whatever makes for the juicier story…

Oh look – there’s lingerie hanging on my clothes line to dry – it’s totally a sign I need new lingerie. Totally. Divine intelligence at its best. New knickers it is! There are some dresses hanging there too – must be a sign I need new dresses as well. And bras. And a nightie!


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Blonde politics…

I don’t normally express political views in my blogs. Why? I don’t think I’m informed enough as I often avoid listening too much to the news as the focus is usually on the problems. I would love to stay informed, but only when the debate is centered around solutions (as opposed to just repeating shocking tragedies). So instead I tend to focus on creating change in the way that makes sense to me: social entrepreneurship, education and the arts. However, Brexit and a recent Trump speech shook me to the core and made question when one should start standing up for what one believes in. Such as international collaboration and the right to live where one chooses, so long as one serves that country and local community.

The world is currently having a lot of issues surrounding immigration and trumpeting (quite literally in some instances) on about closing borders, as opposed to solving the real problems surrounding immigration. Having applied for several visas in my day and currently working to get a permanent residency visa to SA so as to be able to adopt some kids who know me and love me (you can only adopt kids you don’t know as a foreigner unless you have a permanent residency visa because of reasons that are incomprehensible in their idiocy), I know that immigration can be a perplexing matter. It’s all about ticking boxes, which are often neither fair, nor comprehensible.

For example, in South Africa you won’t get a visa if you have tuberculosis, even if you got tuberculosis whilst in South Africa on the visa you’re now renewing, whilst still in South Africa. Is that fair?

In many countries you can save millions of people’s lives in the country, but still be left without a visa, because it’s not about the lives you saved, but about whether you tick a box on a paper or not. You can also raise millions in investment for that country, but unless the investment went via your bank account, you aren’t granted a visa. When you combine visa laws with adoption laws, it gets even more perplexing, but let’s leave that topic for another day.

In a similar manner, it seems people don’t check what people’s intentions are for immigration, so long as they check the box(es) (which sometimes simply means checking the box “running from a war torn country”). You end up with immigrants who wreak havoc and don’t do anything for the country, but causing pain. That’s not fair either. Nor is the way integration work always fair, neither for immigrants, nor for tax payers.

Lately some things floating around the media, most notoriously Trump’s speech after the Orlando shooting, shocked me. It reminded me of just before WWII when people wanted to shut borders to “protect” their citizens and blame the problems on a scapegoat. These days immigrants and muslim extremists (and I dislike calling the terrorists muslims, because they are only using the religion as an excuse to do what it is they wish to do and have nothing to do with the muslims who respectfully practice their religion) are ranked pretty high up there as scapegoats.

There’s so much said in the media in the US about islam terrorists being the root of all evil. Has anyone checked the statistics? “There were 372 mass shootings in the US in 2015, killing 475 people and wounding 1,870, according to the Mass Shooting Tracker.”(1) This included 64 school shootings.(2) In the same year there were 4 possibly islam terrorist attacks in the US, resulting in 27 people being injured and 30 casualties (there were also two right wing terrorist attacks resulting in 12 people being injured and 10 casualties).(3) As far as I can see it seems Americans pose a greater threat to themselves than the islamist extremists.

Of course the threat of terrorism can lead to a lot bigger attacks, killing a lot more people. It’s a very real threat worldwide at the moment and has to be dealt with, but how?  Closing borders and refusing to help people who will serve a country and the world, seems a bad solution, not to mention it creates fear and tension between different nationalities and religions.

In a similar manner, I find it peculiar listening to certain debates about the EU. Some people have pointed out that there are problems within the EU, the way legislation is dealt with is potentially dangerous as it leaves the power in too few hands and, especially conspiracy theorists, talk about EU being a “Big Brother.” Their solution? Disband the EU. (However, they think their own government is part of the illuminati too, so whether they leave or stay seem to matter little as all politicians are puppets to the illuminati anyway.)

Is that really the solution though? Wouldn’t it be better to transform the EU? It seems people in general are pretty keen on collaboration, peace and the ability to live and work anywhere within the EU. Don’t tear down the bridges we’ve built, rather work to make them into bridges supported by democracy and great legislation.

Today I saw someone posting on Facebook that because one Romanian stole something from their father and Romania is in the EU, it’s great that Britain is leaving because Romania does nothing for them. So you will let one Romanian decide what you think about Romania and the EU? That’s exactly how politicians use events too – they focus on one event, or one aspect of an event, and forget the rest. Trump’s recent tweet about Brexit in Scotland is a great example of focusing on one side of an event and forgetting about the rest. The reaction that followed on Twitter was priceless though (I personally suggest he goes for a swim in Loch Ness, maybe he’ll realize he’s got more imagined monsters than Nessie in his head). Which is another good point: there’s an open source of knowledge (the internet) and a chance to make your voice heard (social media), so it’s not all up to the media for us to interpret events these days.

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When it comes to political debate, emotions and facts are manipulated. Happens all the time. Yet people seem blind to it all the same. Like kids wanting to be tricked by magicians, we lap up the facts and figures served to us on silver platters, thinking it’s an excellent show. Rarely do we discover the tricks behind it. Some people still think the EU is all about straightening cucumbers.

I’m not a politician. I don’t read the papers or follow the news religiously. I haven’t made it my business to fight gun violence, or terrorism on a global scale. My business is to help educate kids in a township in South Africa and create marvelous experiences for people through my business and my creative work. So maybe I should keep schtum when it comes to politics, but this fear mongering and immigration business is starting to get to me pretty badly. I’m afraid of having an uneducated voice, but here’s the deal: before I vote I’ll educate myself and I hope you will too. And, if you’re passionate enough, maybe you’ll decide to make your mark in politics instead of thinking all politicians are bad.

Solve the issues instead of pointing fingers. It’s not “them” versus “us.” It’s about creating a world in which we can all live peacefully.

That’s it. Rant over. I shall go back to writing potentially funny posts about hot men, life lessons in the form of sexual metaphors and other blonde matters.

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Image source:  Twitter. So long as there’s humor, there’s hope. No matter what the currency, nationality, or religion. Hopefully humor and love will overcome it all.

1 & 2) Guns in the US: The statistics behind the violence, Jan 5, 2016,


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French kissing…

“Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips.” That’s what Shelley says about kissing and it sounds damn good. Personally I think I’ve experienced anything but.

There were the kind of kisses that tasted like fairy dust – you knew the men would magically disappear as soon as the moment was gone.

Other kisses were so good you felt them in your knees…but somehow the same guy never had that effect again.

Some kisses were just persistent – you ended up with a rash on your chin for weeks to come. And maybe the stubble was sexy and the kissing good, but soul? It was the kind where two souls are drawn together in a storm; fragments of the souls flying about and meeting on your lips without any kind of binding love. Like two magnets filled with parts that reject and attract at the same time. You see something in each other, but the rest you don’t want to see.

Then there were the kind of kisses where you could taste the regret in your mouth, whether his or yours. Rancid kisses sprinkled with attraction. Possibly the worst kind.

At times kisses tasted of love and maybe there was a bit of their soul, or even all, but  you asked yourself if it was really meant to feel that way? Because it didn’t feel like when you were fifteen and madly in love with some guy you’d never date. It felt different. Like a friendship with kissing. A soulmate you were drawn to, but not attracted to. Not in that way. It’s like discovering there’s salt in your honey – it just tastes wrong. And so you can’t get lost in the kiss. Even if you kiss them for years.

There were air kisses too. The ones where you felt they meant nothing, whether you wanted them to, or not. Like kissing the air looking for meaning. Only the air was empty.

Of course there were also kisses of desire. Maybe you thought one day they’d be more. Or you thought spice would be nice, for a change. Either way, it never led to that soul meeting. Then again I guess each meeting is a meeting with a soul. Even if none of you put your soul in the kiss, or the other can’t taste the soul given.

Personally, right now, “I want a red dress. I want it flimsy and cheap, I want it too tight, I want to wear it until someone tears it off me.”* With their soul. Tear me naked with their soul. Bare me with love. Till then, I’ll…refrain from kissing. I think. Maybe.

* quote from Kim Addonizio (I came across some quotes whilst writing product descriptions for Magique. If you don’t know my brand it’s a lot about love. And desire. I’ve spent half the weekend trying to invent the scent of sin. It’s hard going. I think I once smelled it, but unfortunately it wasn’t essential oils. And I have a deadline. For the scent of sin. So help me lord.)

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When hot men in chocolate sauce are the only solution…

Winter. Coriander. Winter with no indoor heating. Coriander in my favorite Latin and Thai dishes. Those are the things that should be banned. Or at least kept at a distance from me.

It’s winter in Cape Town. Or it’s autumn, but they only have two seasons here, really. During one it’s windy and sunny, during the other it is cloudy or rains at least 70% of the time. It’s dreadful. If I had panoramic views of the oceans on one side and the mountains on the other, a fireplace in every room, plus proper insulation and heated floors, a hot tub and a steam, it would possibly be better. But now I don’t have any of that.

The only place I like winter is in L.A. It rains for a week then it’s sunny again. It gets cooler, but it doesn’t get cold. Cafés understand they need heating lamps everywhere. If you want a sense of proper autumn and winter you just drive out of the city and into the mountains. Hell, you can even go snowboarding like two hours away from the city. And in L.A. you have another important thing, namely L.A.

As much as I love the nature in Cape Town and the work I do here I can’t stand winter. We’ve had two rainy days in a row and I feel like killing someone. Most likely myself. Possibly due to PMS, which would explain my thunderous headache. It’s like having fog in my brain. Life sucks, when the other day life was awesome.

To me, good Swedish summers in the south are heaven. Sunrise around 4am, sunset around 10pm and it never gets really dark. I am like an energy bolt and life is fabulous. I’m super charged and my creativity reaches new heights (which is impressive for someone who’s been described as “hyper creative,” trust me).

I have something called light addiction you see. Light makes me happy. I don’t even like blinds. I prefer to wake up with the sun playing on my face. I’m drawn to light like some are to hot men with chocolate sauce on them. (OK, I might be drawn to those too.) I just don’t function without it. I’m sleepwalking and no amount of coffee (and sugar – normally it’s xylitol, but when it rains? I need energy) can awaken me. I live in a house with a ton of natural daylight and it is still a time of year when it’s sunny for the most part and all it takes is two days of rain and I think life’s going to hell.

I’m actually petrified of winter. It makes me feel awful. Light aside, no matter how much I exercise, how many cups of hot tea I drink and how much chili I put on my food (I currently put it in my tea too), I’m still freezing. My skins start cracking, even if I apply body lotion three times a day, or more. And then to topple it off I have a blanket of depressing fog in my head. And trust me, I eat my vitamin D. In Cape Town I also get sick in winter. I am just recovering from two weeks of a cold and sinus infection, both that left me bedridden with a fever until antibiotics slowly brought me back to walking upright for longer than five minutes at a time. In fact, I’m still popping antibiotics.

So there you have it – I’m sulking. I have enough work to do to keep me busy for months, if not years, and my concentration is faltering as I feel miserable in this weather. I feel trapped. I wanna take the kids and head to somewhere where it’s spring. As it’s supposed to be. What keeps me going is the idea that in five weeks I am  indeed going to somewhere where it’s spring as I have to renew my visa. Ideally I also need to go to L.A. for business and I want to see my friends in London. Whilst I’m terrified of leaving the kids for six weeks, I do have to go. Till then I wish to lock myself up and make love to some hot man to keep me warm. Not that I have time for that, but still. Brr, fucking, brr.

Now I’m gonna go heat up more spicy Thai curry. Without coriander. And later I’m gonna drive to Cape Town, oh and ah about the fog rolling in over the mountains and the look of the waves as they crash against the shore, praise the Gods for this beautiful place, drink my favorite coffee at the V&A and chat to people in the iStore as I’m checking my Mac. Usually anything to do with the iStore perks me up by at least 50 degrees. It could be very necessary unless I bump into a hot man en route.

Frustrated blonde, over and out.


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Two men and a bed…

Last night I went to bed with Rimbaud and Jöback. Two gay men and me. Quite the threesome.

On that note I highly recommend you never start writing a blog that alludes to sex in the headline. Because sooner or later you will start finding sex jokes and innuendo everywhere. It becomes a habit. Though most of the time, of course, you’re busy doing other things like say setting up a business, charity work and working as a freelance creative. Another threesome. A threesome some people might miss if they only read the headline.

I had the twins round yesterday and it struck me how far we’ve come. It is the most beautiful feeling. If you’ve ever tried raising other people’s children, children who’ve been abused since birth, you’d understand. It’s not easy. The rewards are paramount, but you’re never guaranteed them. And if you, like me, is a family support and you don’t have the right to adopt you often feel like you never do enough. It’s a heartbreaking feeling. It’s a bizarre feeling too, because you are helping, but it would be so much nicer if you had no worries about paying for any school, any extracurricular activity, any therapy and so forth. You pay for all that, you just don’t have as much as you’d like.

And that’s where you have choice – either you see the good you are doing, or you think you aren’t doing good enough.

I’ve thought a lot about how we see things and therefore act this week. Some conversations with my sister and best friend about people’s, including my own, love lives (when I’m not having threesomes with gay men, that is) have made me reflect upon this. You know how you have these patterns? You like certain men (playful mavericks), you react in certain ways (impress) and you feel in certain ways (not good enough). Then you meet men you don’t care much for (not crazy enough), you react in certain ways (completely aloof) and you feel in certain ways (goddess). End result, completely different. The men you don’t try to impress run after you, the men you try to impress stay aloof from you. Possibly because the men you try to impress never liked you in the first place beyond a certain level of attraction…and maybe that’s why you picked them.

Of course we act in certain ways to feed our subconscious beliefs. I think I’m not good enough so it’s perfectly OK if men I don’t like, like me. If men I do like, like me we’re on unchartered territory. I might end up with claustrophobia. Or I might end up messing things up just to prove my unworthiness. Or maybe I’d just have to be vulnerable. I might lose someone I care about as life isn’t certain. I might have to trust and trust can be broken. I might realize I’m actually quite lovable. Now that’s some scary shit. (I mean it’s just old thought patterns stuck in your brain since childhood. None of that is real. But you have habitual feelings attached to habitual thoughts and sometimes we get stuck there, simply because we haven’t figured out there are other ways.)

So then you sort of reach the conclusion that you are just going to be. Hang with the tension. Not try to prove your greatness, whilst thinking you have to do it to hide your unworthiness. You have to just be. With all your uncomfortable thoughts that you’ve now stirred to the surface. Hopefully that will mean they soon evaporate. If you try to suppress them, or wrestle with them, on the other hand, they will stay.

You also reach the conclusion after years of painful (or not…) investigation that it’s not a good idea to date “nice” men whom you aren’t that into (the not so playful not mavericks). You have to find the guy who you like, who likes you. You can’t compromise on the quality of their weirdness. That’s just non-negotiable.

It’s getting late. I’m thinking I need to crack on with a few more things with Magique (never start a business unless you are perfectly OK with being on unchartered territory…like I should be in my love life) and then go to bed with two of my favorite men. Maybe tonight it will be Leto and Rimbaud instead? One gay guy, one experimental guy (someone once tried to put me off him by saying he does anything – I told the person I could quite accommodate that) and one of me. Of course one is also dead and I don’t know the other. Could be a slight problem.

(Rimbaud was a famous French poet. Jöback is a famous Swedish musical artist. If you don’t know Leto, you’ve been missing out. Google Leto + acoustic.)

Image Source: Magique
Photographer: Valentina Socci

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With wellies to kill…

A woman can only take so much.

A month ago I got bitten by what seemed like a flea for three nights in a row and my apartment, as the rains came, seemed to grow mould everywhere over night. I freaked out, moved out, cleaned all my things, sprayed my car, handed all my clothes in to be washed and so on. Please note this was after me having a cold, mumps, the flu and a urinary tract infection, whilst working as a writer, launching a business, helping out at Little Angels and with the twins. I was about to self-combust when this happened. But I’m zen. Always. So f*ing zen. (<- sarcasm)

Then I got bit again. To the point of going insane for a few nights. I found one flipping flea that seemed to have followed me and my landlord sprayed the floor whilst I managed to catch the flea (and I sprayed some more and poured Diatomaceous Earth on everything in sight). I slept well for a few nights.

Then I got bit again, now by something else, as the bites are different. Either midgets (I realized there’s a pond here inside in the entryway) or a bedbug. I’m taking precautions against all and anything.

I don’t know if I’m cursed, or just have great blood? When I went to Scotland a few years ago my friends got 20 bites each. I got 200.

I hate poisons, but after the past few weeks I’m prepared to haul any poison I can get my hands on, on anything I see. I’m sure I’m gonna have a good laugh about this in years to come, but right now I’m sleep depraved and uh, on a mission to kill…just give me some stilettos and a “killing all critters” gun… A Catwoman suit, completely bite proof and with sex appeal (to cover up all current scars) would be much appreciated too. (As opposed to tights, thermal underwear, a fleece, a long skirt and (pink) wellies that currently tend to work as body armor. I did say I’m always sexy, didn’t I? It’s Welliewoman…without an umbrella to kill.)


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Oh baby, oh baby you’re one sexy car…

If men were like cars I’d be married to an Audi and have a love affair with a Tesla, or the other way around. If cities were men I’d be married to the City of Angels and have a love affair with Paris. The problem with men? They are neither cars, nor cities. The problem with my car? It’s corrupted.

I bought a car when I wasn’t planning to in a country where automatic cars are as rare as diamonds. Finding something in my price category was difficult three years ago. But there were several Audis as Audi had more automatic cars, or so it seemed. I was sorely tempted by the Audis because low and behold, there comes my favorite car. I was going to be smart about it though. I was going to buy a car that didn’t cost the Earth to fix if it needed fixing. And finally I found a Hyundai Sonata, metallic blue and without a single scratch, which hadn’t run many miles. It was nicknamed Monty, like I sometimes am too. And it was owned by a Brit and a Swede, so I felt comfortable buying it. Especially as it wasn’t one of those little white cars they’re so fond of here and that I can’t stand. The design lacks any kind of oumph. At least from behind this one looked like a Jaguar.

It turned out there was one wire in the car that wasn’t wired right. So sometimes the car didn’t start. It took them months to find the bloody wire. Well, it took them a day at Hyundai, but I tried another electrician first. At Hyundai they also established that the gearbox needed reconditioning. It had been reconditioned the year before, but low and behold it was a badly done job and the warranty had expired.

I could have bought a much more expensive car had I taken into account the reconditioning of the gearbox. Man I could have had a nice car.

Of course, the unscratched car was scratched the first day when I drove into a gate. I’ve never driven into anything before, but something has to be the first. Then someone else drove into it. In the township where it has been parked a lot the kids scratched it. And there are several scratches I have no idea how they got there. Probably others ramming it. Then I lent it to a friend when traveling twice – the first time the booth got covered in white paint, the second someone rammed it in the back and it was stitched together with electric tape as she couldn’t pay for my insurance to repair it and kept putting it off till I left the country again and came back to a still stitched together car.

I lent it to people because I felt as a traveler that’s what others have done for me – I’ve had other people’s homes and cars; I’ve always been looked after. And I care for traveling karma and I believe in the kindness of strangers. Or as it says at Shakespeare & Co.: Strangers are angels in disguise. Or something to that effect. It does not mention the cats with fleas that also live there and the grumpy old man that used to own the place. Mind you – he let me film there.

Currently I believe there’s something wrong with the immobilizer – the car sometimes starts straight away, sometimes it takes ten or more tries. It always starts, but people look at you funny if it’s having a tantrum.

Then this morning the darling car sounded like there was an explosion in it when I started it. At first I thought it was my imagination. Then it happened again. Then as I switched it off the third time I realized the speakers were still on even if the radio was off. And when you start the car they explode with a boom. So now I have an exploding car too. And I can’t find the bloody button to turn off the speakers.

The good thing about my car? I have no worries parking it in the township and coming back to see kids having made patterns in dust and sand on it.

The issue? I could have been driving an Audi. I could have been married. Instead when I drive around in Beverly Hills I’m prone to knock down palm trees (and pedestrians) when staring at Audis, Teslas and hot dudes. It’s actually a problem. I’ve been close to driving into people and things a few times. Do you know how hot the men in LA are? It’s a hazard on the roads. And the cars…oh baby, the cars. Midnight blue sports cars… Swoon.

But it’s OK. Soon I’m gonna marry my Hollywood Hills and my Audi. Just you wait. I made a bet with Liezl this’d be our car for 2017, she says 2016. We’ll see who wins the bet.


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