A Glamping Experience!

Is anyone else feeling like this year must just end now? I am so ready for 2018. Although 2018 has been great (baby news, renovations and other lovely things) it has also been a year of difficulties. My pregnant body is tired of 7-day-work weeks and although that wont change come 1 January, at least it will feel like somewhat of a fresh start.

I’ve been revelling in my rare ‘off’ days lately, and so it was such a treat to be invited by Tented Adventures to come sty at one of their camps for a weekend a month or so back. Barry and I were all too eager to ditch the dry heat of Jozi and head to the Pilansberg Nature Reserve for 2 nights of bush bliss.

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect – the website for Tented Adventures promised ‘an authentic African safari experience‘, but it also mentions ‘tent’, and to me anything in a tent is camping. So, it was with excitement and a little trepidation that we headed off early Saturday morning.

Upon arriving at the camp we were greeted by the friendly camp manager, Bennie, who showed us to our ‘room’ and told us to relax for a few hours until our 5 pm game drive. The tent was actually perfect – on a raised platform with plug points, a fan, hotel quality duvets and a sturdy bed, I could have quite comfortably stayed there for a week or more. The private area, to the side of the main camping site, had several tents and then the main tent – where guests would eat dinner together or grab a hot coffee and rusk before the 4 am game drive.

The heat was ferocious as we arrived, and unfortunately Barry had to leave to head back to town as we arrived to find a battery for his car. I took advantage of the alone time and static heat and stillness and dozed on the bed. Something I did the very next day as well. There really is something about the bush that just makes you so relaxed.

There aren’t ablutions on the site so guests do have to walk several hundred metres to the main campsite and ablution facility. I am no princess, but shared ablutions have never been my thing, ever, so I must admit it was the least favourite aspect of my trip. I can also blame my pregnancy, but having to wee all the time meant frequent dusty walks to and from the tent to the loos. I mastered the ‘roughing it’ look and managed to avoid washing my hair the entire duration of our trip.

Dinner was served after the game drives in the main tent. The food was simple but tasty, and we were so exhausted after 4 hours of game spotting that we downed our food and headed straight to bed. The website did mention that drinks were included, but they weren’t. Next time I would be better prepared and bring along snacks, such and booze for us to enjoy at mealtimes and on the drives. Luckily theres a campsite shop so Barry could buy some beer. No-fun knocked up over here nursed her water and Sprite. On the second night there was a power failure so we all headed to the main lodge restaurant for supper.  Not at all associated with Tented Adventures, this was one of the worst culinary experiences of my life – but made hilarious and fun due to the crowd we were with and the absolute comedy of the evening. The Manyane camp in Pilansberg really is stuck in the 1970s and the overall place could do with a huge revamp (and some waitron training!). Again, our camp manager Bennie really made a huge effort to make sure we were all fed and looked after and did his best at helping us in a situation he had zero control over.

Breakfasts were also served at the main restaurant and if you are a foodie, I wouldn’t suggest touching Pilansberg with a 10 foot barge pole. However, if like me, you are an animal and wildlife lover, then you can overlook the catering and come just for the game drives. An absolute highlight of our trip, we were fortunate enough to see of of the Big 5. Our rangers were enthusiastic and super knowledgable and I would go back and back and back just to relive the sightings and animals we saw. Game drives take place twice a day and after every drive you are met by the staff who make sure you are escorted to your tent or off the vehicle safely.

Tented Adventures is really reasonably priced and perfect for the bush lover who isn’t quite ready to take the camping plunge just yet, but is keen to dip their toe into some tented water. No kids allowed, which means apart from game drives there really is nothing to do except relax, read and refresh.

For more info, head on over to their website to find out more.

Thank you Tented Adventures – you prepped me so well that I actually went proper camping 2 weeks later!

 

 

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There’s Too Much Salt In My Tea.

It’s been a really, really rough few weeks. And as I type this I can imagine a few eye rolls, because given the greater issues that millions of people face in our country every day, this may all seem relatively trivial, but like anything, when stuff starts to add up and compound, it can all feel like a little bit too much.

If someone had to make you a cup of tea, and sneak one small grain of salt into it, you would drink the tea and think it was lovely. The next day, should that person add 2 grains of salt, you probably still wouldn’t notice a difference. But slowly, if the amount of salt added to your tea increased, then very soon your tea would be soured and undrinkable.

My teacup has too much salt.

About a month ago my husband went through some really ugly stuff with work. And that’s pretty much all I can say. But it was enough to really put a dampener on our spirits and set a rather sad foundation for the situation. At that same time, we had to rush him to hospital where he needed an emergency appendectomy. The surgery went fine and he’s recovered well from his 1/3 C section (which I like to remind him of daily). A week after that though, we had some exciting news – our long-awaited house renovations were finally starting. Much excitement as windows got knocked away and ground got broken. But less than 12 hours after, we were woken at 3 am to the sounds of intruders in or on our roof. It’s funny, nothing happened and no one got in our home (apart from half a security guard who fell through the ceiling when on the hunt for these criminals) but I felt terribly afraid. Suddenly a break-in was more than just a threat to Barry and me, it was a threat to our two-year-son who lay in bed with me while strange mean ran along our roof, asking what the noise was.

Violated, but unharmed, life went on, until 3 days later when we arrived home to find out that our electricity had been accidentally cut off. On the coldest day of the year. This was 5 days ago and we have still not been reconnected. Again, thousands of people in or country live without electricity every single day, but it has just been one little blow, one small grain of sand, after the other, and I am exhausted. This also means we have lost all power to our beams, alarm system, gate and fridge. We are bathing over pots of water and lying wide-awake listening for more feet on the roof and more sounds in the garden. The alarm is trickle charging on the generator for a few hours every night and dies early hours of every morning. We have a ritual of a midnight trek to the garden – I stand waving a solar powered jar looking for baddies while Barry pours Valpre bottles of petrol into the generator. He then lies in the lounge listening for sounds while I attempt another 2 hours of sleep. There has been only one night since Monday where a siren hasn’t triggered, where we haven’t had a security guard knocking on our window and where we haven’t lain awake for hours on end wondering if tonight is the night someone actually gets in to the house.

I am sick and tired of it. I am tired of being a good person and paying my bills and living responsibly only to have incompetent government and municipal institutions carry on with their inefficient ways. There is no accountability. I’m tired of spending our hard earned renovation money on CCTV and electric fencing upgrades and UPS systems instead of taps and tiles and paint. I’m tired of wondering how I am every going to explain this to my son. I’m tired of arriving home to a black hole in my suburb, not knowing what lies in or around. I am tired of everything always being a fight. I am so tired of salty tea.

And I know, when the power does eventually get restored and life returns to ‘normal’ that this will be forgotten, and life will carry on, but for now? I’m angry and cross. Not just for me but for our whole country – a country who is subject to archaic, sulky and incompetent processes and governance.

 

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Win With Adventure Boot Camp For Women!

It’s June already. I mean, not to be that person who wakes up on the first of every month and is like “Oh My God It’s June Already?!” but seriously, “Oh My God It’s June Already.”

Which means – we are half way to Christmas and half way to Summer holidays and shorts and bikinis and all those things that make me want to run (ironically) and hide under the closest Krispy Kreme delivery vehicle.

Today marked day 1 of a 4 week transformation challenged that Barry and I have signed up to (read:I signed up to and convinced him to do because there’s no way I can do a month of detoxing all alone. Not with the way he downs chocolate and curry). And it’s needed hey – a little step on the scale this morning revealed that I am a mere 3 kilograms away from full term pregnancy weight. Hideous! I blame eating all the feelings and the fact that my feelings taste like macaroni.

So, if you too are reading this, nodding your head and side eyeing that pie in the other hand, I have some good news.

Firstly – you probably look beautiful, but secondly, if you want to be beautiful in a size 8 pair of jean pant then I am giving away something which just might make you feel better about the future of fat.

You’ve probably heard of ‘Adventure Boot Camp for Women’ which is SA’s largest outdoor fitness programme for women. ABC is an outdoor exercise plan that offers workouts for women, fitness instruction, nutritional counseling and motivational training packed with fun and energising activities designed to help you reach your fitness goals.

They are running their annual 40 Day Challenge which is South Africa’s biggest outdoor challenge for women.  Ladies across South Africa partake in boot camp for 40 days, Monday to Friday. The ladies involved are also supplied meal plans from accredited dieticians, Clicks physical assessments and stand a chance to win weekly prizes from sponsors such as Garmin, MovePretty, Puma and many more, including the chance to win R10 000 when they sign up and another R10 000 on the completion of the 40 Day Challenge. On completion of the 40 days, ladies are rewarded with a luxury hamper filled with exciting sponsor products. An amazing package!

The 40 day challenge is running from 19 June to 11 August. Yep, slap bang in the middle of Winter. Which is exactly when Summer bodies are made, right?

Even better, ABC has venues all over South Africa and with over 100 locations to choose from, there’s bound to be a class near you.

I’m going to be signing up to the classes as soon as my 4 weeks of hell detox is over, and am really exited to be training in a female only environment – not a single silver back ‘gym oke’ in sight!

So, today on the blog, I’m giving one lucky lady the chance to win an entry for the 40-day challenge. Valued at R6000, it’s the perfect gift you can give yourself this Festive fat season.

All you need to do is make sure you are following this blog and have liked Rupert Approves on Facebook. Then, leave a comment below about why you’d like to win this competition. You can also enter on behalf of a friend – simply refer them in your comments below.

Good Luck… you skinny bitch you!

The Ts and The Cs

  • Winner will be selected by random draw on Wednesday 7 June
  • The winner must reside in South Africa and be close to one of the ABC venues to ensure maximum participation
  • The winner agrees to be available for the 40-day challenge and agrees to sign up to take part in the challenge and partake to the best of her ability
  • The prize is not refundable for cash
  • Only one winner will be selected
  • The winner agrees to looking fabulous once the 40 days are over 😉

———————————————- WINNER UPDATE ——————————————————

Congratulations to Adele who has won this prize! Adele, please be in touch so I can send you all the details! 🙂

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Win a Kate Rankin Photo Shoot Valued at R2500!

It’s my birthday week (25 again!) and I’ve decided to reward one lucky person with an awesome prize – a professional photo-shoot from Kate Rankin Photography – AKA me 🙂

For those of you who have followed my photographic journey you will know that it’s one of my greatest loves, and to be able to give a shoot away just makes me so happy.

The value of the shoot is R2500 and can be for pretty much anything – family, newborn, kiddies party, maternity, couple, engagement… you name it! Have a look at my website to see the sort of photos I take, it may just give you some inspiration.

It’s really easy to enter:

  1. Like KateRankinPhotography on Facebook
  2. Like KateRankinPhotography on Instagram
  3. Comment on either the Instagram competition post or the Facebook competition post and tell me what shoot you want
  4. Share the Instagram or Facebook post

Then, cross fingers and toes and vaginas (if you’ve had a baby and pee when excited) and wait until 27 January when the winner is announced… on my birthday!

The Ts and the Ts

  1. Shoot to take place in Johannesburg Northern Suburbs. Should the winner be residing elsewhere he or she to make their own way to the shoot/venue/location
  2. Shoot has to be booked and claimed before 30 April 2017
  3. Winner will be drawn at random
  4. Only those who follow competition mechanics will be eligible for the draw
  5. Winner consents to having his/her photos published on my blog and Facebook pages
  6. Shoot duration will not last longer than 2 hours
  7. Shoot details will be at the final discretion of the photographer

Good Luck!!

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Goodbye, Mr President.

Dear Mr President. Last week the lovely, kind security guard at my sons school was held up and robbed at his home. I assume he didn’t have many belongings to begin with, but what he did have was taken. He was assaulted and beaten up. We got together as a group of moms and raised some cash for him. Not millions, but hopefully enough to put a smile on his sad, bruised face. This is the gentleman who greets every.single.child by name on a daily basis, high-fives grubby hands and patiently co-operates with toddler nuances. You didn’t walk into his humble home, steal his things and beat him up, but I blame you.

Dear Mr President. I was warned against taking photos at certain venues over the weekend – because there are bad men who will try and hurt me. Rob me, assault me. I know it’s not you waiting in the shadows eyeing out my camera or lens that I work every day to pay off, but I blame you.

Dear Mr President. Students are burning the very buildings they claim to want to sit inside and learn in. They are torching buses and historical places and rioting in the streets. They are turning a noble cause into something very big, and very frightening. You aren’t in the streets burning cars, or assaulting policemen, but I blame you.

Dear Mr President. We are in the midst of a very worrying drought. Responsible citizens are kicking dust in their once-green garden and letting it mellow-if-it’s-yellow. You aren’t kicking dust are you? I bet your fire pool is full and floatable. I know you didn’t physically kill my poor sun damaged plants, but I still blame you.

Dear Mr President. It’s taking me 3, sometimes more, hours to get to and from work every day. Taxis driving in the emergency lane of highways while I sit and listen to 90% local shit on government radio and news about fire pools and droughts and feesmustfall. It’s cool though; those eTolls you insisted would improve our quality of road experience still look helluva pretty with their cobalt blue lights. I know it isn’t you in-front of me in your unlicensed vehicle, but I still blame you.

Dear Mr President. Pinterest is the closest many of us will come to a holiday in the foreseeable future. Gosh, the Rand is like a toddler on steroids, up and down and in and out. What fun you must be having chuckling away as your people scrape cents for bread and beg for food. I myself look like a bobble head when I prey for the traffic light to turn green before I have to apologetically shake my head ‘no’, again, at another beggar lining up in the intersection. My wallet is dry, MR president. Between the taxes and the double jobs and the charity and the constant doling out of money to save our citizens, to help as much as we can, while you sit sipping champagne in full blue pools and flushing your number 1’s. We are spent, exhausted, tired.

But, I must apologise. You don’t always do nothing. You aren’t always this apathetic.

When you sent your wolves on poor Pravin, the only honest one amongst you. When you willingly let your country slide and wobble. You cut the brakes of the vehicle Mr President, and then you handed over the keys to criminals who would speed feely, knowing full well there was no safe stop in sight.

When you used your power and friends to stop Thuli. When you kind of eventually paid back some of the money. When you slept through budget speeches and laughed your way through Parliamentary debates. When we lost track of your wives and mistresses. When you took that shower. It’s time to go. It was time to go the day you started.

Surprisingly, you have done one great and very powerful thing; you have united the citizens of this country in our mutual dislike and disrespect for you. No-body wants you here, we all want you gone. So please, leave. Flee. Run. Resign. Just go. I’ve had enough. South Africa has had enough.

Totsiens. Hamba Kahle. Sala hantle. Sala kakuhle. זייַ געזונט. Lamtumirë. Sbohem. Αντίο. Hyvästi. 再見. La revedere. Au Revoir.

Fuck off.

PS – I treated myself to a manicure over the weekend, and by Tuesday it was already chipped and peeling. I don’t know how it’s possible to, but I still blame you.

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Happy Heritage Day South Africa!

This morning I dressed Carter in the cutest little Australian onesie – sent as a gift from a friend Michelle who lives Down Under. When my hubby arrived at creche this morning the teacher asked if Carter had an Australian heritage. He only realised why she asked this after looking around the school – it was a Heritage Day dress up and all of the kids were wearing outfits representative of their history and culture. To be fair, my 18 month old niece dressed up as an (admittedly adorable) ladybug, and my nephew as a fireman, so creative licence was running wild.

We’re celebrating at the office a little bit later today – and everyone has been asked to wear an outfit reflecting their heritage. I always get so uncomfortable when this time of year rolls round. What do I put on that speaks to my heritage? I’m a quarter German, named after an Irish pub, have Jewish family and was born in Sandton. Can I just give my son a Yarmulke, eat a bratwurst while downing a Guinness in high heels and call it a day?

The people in my office have made such an incredible effort. The Xhosa girls are draped in multicoloured beads with face art and the Venda ladies are colour blocked from head to toe. A Zulu lady is wearing her traditional outfit and a few of my Indian work mates are in Sari’s. A Portugese lady has gone all out with her dress (except the white socks, that’s apparently where she drew the line) and another girl is proudly sporting her Dutch Cloggs and milkmaid hat.

I mentioned to a colleague how much I adored her outfit and how I wished I was allowed to wear something like it. “You’re South African, Kate of of course you can wear it!” was her reply. And she’s right. The thing we all love about our country is the fact that we are all diverse, and unique. No-one is the same, yet we all belong.

So, whether you are celebrating in traditional garb, with a boerie roll round the braai, or in a Shwe Shwe skirt – make this Heritage Day your own. After all, it’s what us S’Africans to best, right?

And next year, I promise to dress up, paint my face and represent the many cultures of Kate.

Until then, feast your eyes on some of the eclectic people I am lucky enough to work with every single day.

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A Walk On The Wild Side

I’m back at work. Which means I’m desperately trying to find my new normal, whilst nonchalantly dressing up my fat jeans and re-learning how to wear a bra that doesn’t have boob flaps in them. To celebrate my last weekend of dedicated motherhood, I did a very un-motherhood thing and went away. This then meant that Carter had his first sleepover, and of course it also meant that my little treasure slept a solid 13 hours. Typical.

Before you start judging and throwing hypothetical rotten tomatoes in my face, please understand that I needed to get away. Because what’s a grief stricken almost-back-to-work mom to do? Drive three hours out of Joburg and drink her body weight in wine, that’s what.

The fabulous folk at the Protea Hotel ‘Ranch’ in Polokwane kindly hosted us for one of their ‘Chefs Tables’. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect (I mean, Polokwane??) but reality far exceeded my expectations. The Ranch Hotel is situated on a private game reserve just 25kms south of the Limpopo’s capital city, and from the second you drive in through the gates you feel relaxed. It’s very seldom that the drive up to a hotel reception includes roaming Blesbok instead of bellboys. I already knew that this place was going to be special.

protea 3

We arrived, unpacked, jumped on the beds (kidding. KIDDING) drank a sherry and made our way to the bar for a pre-dinner drink. I told you, we were wine serious that night. The resort is magical, and I’ve already book-marked it for my next annual girls holiday.

20150904_165829 Protea Ranch Room Interior 20150904_165740 20150904_165717

The dinner, and the main reason for our trip, blew my mind. Hosted and created by ‘Chef Dan’ the food, ambiance and company was superb from start to finish. I loved how we were an intimate table of 10; we were joined by local media, tourism members and a few journalists from Joburg as well as the owner and marketing manager of The Ranch.

protea 1

I judge a good meal on the creativity of the vegetarian option (Lord, let me never see another carrot in phyllo pastry again) and Chef Dan and his team quelled my fears with each course.

Our food ranged from Salmon Tartar Blinis, to Gorgonzola Gnocchi, Beef Fillet Bordelaise and mouth-watering king prawns. Dessert was a South African take on a British tea – Rooibos pannecotta and honey gel cubes. Each course was served with a wine, and we drank everything from Champagne to Merlot to Petit Rouge. Not kak.

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Full and happy we stumbled back to the bar for a nightcap (I really cannot emphasise the seriousness of my task here friends). There we sat and chatted about the resorts history and got to know our fellow diners a little bit more.

The next morning we were up at sparrows poep to go and walk with the lions (No, not the rugby team, although some might argue that’s the fastest they’ll ever get. Yes, that’s a thing you can actually do there – and no, apparently sleeping in even when childless is not an option). Sadly, the rain was bucketing down so we we had to ‘paws’ (weak, I know, but this mum dumb brain is lingering) the lion walk. I’m seriously hoping to crack another nod to go back and experience the walk another time.

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All round a fantastic way to wrap up the last 4 months of maternity leave. Although, at the rate I’m going, these work fat pants may be here to stay.

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I'm Feeling A Little Glum

Someone last night said to me they had recently stumbled upon my blog, and now dedicate Fridays to reading it for their weekly laugh. That made my day. But Bron, I’m sorry, today is not going to be one of those days.

You see, I’m feeling pretty glum. It could be the late night and lack of sleep, it could be the preggy hormones, or it could be that for the first time my rose tinted view of South Africa is less rosy, and more realistic.

Last night we went to go watch Alan Committie at the Pieter Torien theatre at Montecasino. If you haven’t watched him live, do yourself a favour and buy a ticket- he is true comic gold.

As with all South African comedy shows, the majority of the fodder is always based on real life events in SA – load shedding, Zuma, crime and the ANC. We go there to laugh, because the state of affairs in this country make it so much easier to do so – we as South Africans are forced to find the humour in what is becoming a rapidly deteriorating country. At one point Alan turned to the audience and said “But despite it all, we truly have one of the most beautiful countries in the world, right?” and the audience cheered and cheered. Normally I would have joined in, louder than them all, but last night, I couldn’t.

Have you driven up and down our roads lately? Have you seen the rubbish, the mess, the weeds, the derelict buildings and the taxi ranks? Unless you travel by helicopter, you too would have been stuck for hours on end during load shedding, wondering why the robots weren’t solar powered (it’s a crime issues you see). You, like me, may have also seen pedestrians get knocked over, motorbike accidents and car accidents ranging from irritating bumper bashings to body bags. When you finally reach your destination you too may have had to use a bottle of water to wash your hands and rely on a generator or gas stove to cook your food.

In December we drove to Port Alfred. The carnage on our roads has me debilitated to such a point that for 11 and a half hours I could not close my eyes – even as a passenger – because I had the irrational thought that unless there were 2 sets of eyes on the road at all times, something dreadful would happen.

Coupled with this, our recent incident has left me paralysed with fear when driving home, and pulling in to my own driveway is now a mute-radio,unclip-seatbelt-watch-gate-close-whiles-keeping-an-eye-out-for-suspicious-activity process. And that’s during daylight! I wont even go to gym or out at night unless I’m driving with my husband. This weekend I’m home alone and I’ve already planned to be locked up indoors by 6pm.

All this while Zuma makes a mockery of what used to be my favourite place in the entire world, Robert Mugabe memes and load shedding schedules flood my Facebook feed and I pee in the office bathrooms with a torch because we have no power.

I suppose my entire view has shifted because it’s no longer just about me. In 100 days or less I am having a baby, and that baby is going to be born into an environment where I don’t know if I can fetch him from creche on time because I may or may not be stuck behind a dead traffic light. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to heat his room in winter or protect him from a taxi playing chicken at a 4-way stop. I don’t know if I will be able to walk him in his pram in my street without holding my breath, and I don’t know if I will find him a school we can afford where textbooks aren’t burnt and the teachers aren’t on strike.

So excuse me friends, for I am feeling fucking glum. I hope it lifts and I hope my fleeting thoughts of emigration fade very quickly. Because if there is one thing worse than the way I’m feeling today, it’s the thought of moving to a place where I don’t have my family and friends by my side.

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Wet 'n Wild is now available in South Africa

12 years ago, while living in America, my obsession with ‘drug store’ beauty products began. I had left Clicks, our local Unicorn branded ‘Health Home and Beauty store’ with its measly offering of Yardley’s Oatmeal range or Lentheric body sprays, and entered a world where drugstores, supermarkets and Target (oh, Target. Not a day goes by where I don’t think of you) were stocked with aisle upon aisle of beauty products and accessories. My mind was blown, and I couldn’t get enough. Even then, when the exchange rate was at its highest, I could still find joy in a $0.99c lipstick or body lotion special.

When I returned home in early 2003, I assumed that my beloved country would have realised how much I needed these products in my life, and automatically stocked them. Alas, Clicks was still Clicks, and choices were dismal. I mean, my god, we didn’t even have hair straighteners in our country back then ( I eventually resorted to importing one from America…velvet plates and all).

Fast forward a few years and finally a few retailers stated jumping on the International brand bandwagon – Woolworths had, and still has, a brilliant variety, MAC stores started popping up, and with the introduction of the Internet came eCommerce and the option to buy things from overseas (bless you, technology).

Look, I am the first person to splash out on R900 foundation and R400 blush, but there is something so nostalgically appealing about the ‘brands I left behind’ in the good old USA. Especially, when on a budget, and you see things like this.

So, it was with much excitement and a small squeal when I found out that Wet n Wild (yes, the cosmetic brand that sounds like a condom brand) was finally in SA. In Clicks nogal!

The prices are so reasonable and the selection is great. I’m currently using the Pressed Powder and the blush and must say – I’m really impressed with both – considering the price (cheap!) the pigment is strong and lasts just as long as any MAC or Bobbi Brown blushes I’ve used.

Wet n Wild Coverall Pressed Powder
Wet n Wild Coverall Pressed Powder
Wet n Wild Blush
Wet n Wild Blush

Wet n Wild is sold exclusively in Clicks stores – and you can also follow them locally on Facebook .

It’s a good start…but there are so many other brands I wish would come to SA – which ones are you lusting after?

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I Drew The Jacob Zuma Family Tree But Ran Out Of Paint.

Johannesburg – President Jacob Zuma is to marry his long-time fiancée, Bongi Ngema, next weekend, the Sunday Times reported in its early edition on Saturday evening.

The president’s spokesperson, Mac Maharaj, confirmed to the newspaper that the president would formalise his relationship with Ngema at a private traditional ceremony in Nkandla in KwaZulu-Natal.

Ngema will be Zuma’s fourth wife. His other wives are Sizakele Khumalo, Nompumelelo Zuma and Thobeka Stacey Mabhija.

He divorced home affairs minister Nkosazana Dlamini-Zuma in 1998 while another wife, Kate Zuma, committed suicide in 2000.

The president has a three-year-old son with Ngema. His bride-to-be has already accompanied him on a diplomatic trip to France.

Ngema hails from Umlazi township, south of Durban and has numerous qualifications including a business degree.

The president celebrated his 70th birthday on Friday where Ngema and Zuma’s three wives were on hand to help him cut a R12 500 birthday cake.

The Sunday Times said the president’s Nkandla homestead had been given a R64m upgrade that included six new double-storey thatch rondavels for his wives and family

Taken from an online News 24 article. 

So THAT is why I will be voting this year. Just like I have voted every year I’ve been allowed to since I turned 18. 

I asked 10 random people in my office today and of those 10 – not one person said they would be voting. Here is their rationale:

1. I didn’t register in time

2. I would rather sleep in

3. Public Holiday, woohoo

4. I forgot to register

5. I have no-one to vote for.

Guys, my patriotic hart has a huge sad right now. if you do not vote, for legitimate reasons in the 2014 elections then the following rules should apply:

1. You must come to work on voting day.

2. You must never get a public holiday again

3. You must get me coffee every day (ya, I’m throwing that one in there)

4. You can never ever complain about our country again

5. You must remember that you are to blame for Jacob Zuma’s family tree looking like this:

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