Tag Archives: 3G

weekly round-up: a week in parties, tattoos and iPhones

So much has happened during the time that I was imprisoned by Vodacom’s non-existent 3G service, and work has been a swooshing whirlwind of deadlines and free-time-sucking-vortices (that’s the plural for Vortex, for my Client Service readers). so this is just a quick post to bring y’ulle up to speed with the week. firstly, dear friend Genevieve came down from Joburg for a visit. We’d planned to have our tattoos together but the artist designing mine is still busy so I just watched her get hers instead.

Gen getting inked by Tyler at Sins of Style.

Gen getting inked by Tyler at Sins of Style.

The finished tattoo.

The finished tattoo.

We also had another poker evening and made the mistake of inviting Richard, who cleaned us all out because he is a LEAGUE Poker Player and neglected to tell us plebs.

Thats richard at the far end of the table, counting his chips.

That's richard at the far end of the table, counting his chips.

Rei: burning and turning.

Rei: burning and turning.

and then on Wednesday morning I remembered that South Africa’s favourite blog was running an iPhone competition and thought, oh heck, I already pay the Euromillions Lottery, I might as well enter. So i did, and I freaking WON - sheer awesomeness incarnate. So now I have an iPhone, just as my old cellphone contract was up for renewal as well. Happiness.

Seth hands over the iPhone at Wembley Square.

Seth hands over the iPhone at Wembley Square.

And to add insult to injury (the injury of those who didnt win the iPhone) I also won £9 in the lottery in Friday’s draw, which I have recycled into more lottery tickets, because that is how I roll. After I got my iPhone, I was extreeeeeemely busy writing radio ads (which the client hated, FYI) and ‘getting my freak on’ at the agency party that night. Since I have become a holier-than-thou runner, I no longer stay until that point at which some slut from PR takes off all her clothes and runs naked on the balcony for R1000 (it’s a standing offer at King James), so unfortunately I don’t have pics of that (apparently this time it was Ophelia from Events). But I do have pictures of good times before 9pm which I’ll gladly share with you:

Not really sure whats happening here.

Not really sure what's happening here.

Creative Director Devin Kennedy Blue-Steeling Out.

Creative Director Devin Kennedy Blue-Steeling Out.

Debating which slut is going to do the naked balcony run.

Debating which slut is going to do the naked balcony run.

Me and my pink scarf (not to be confused with a pink sock, which is something very different and very rude).

Me and my pink scarf (not to be confused with a pink sock, which is something very different and very rude).

Karin, Alistair and Emma. It was Emmas first night away from her baby Lula - be proud of her.

Karin, Alistair and Emma. It was Emma's first night away from her baby Lula - be proud of her.

Some random snaps: my favourite pair of cousins, when they were over here for dinner a few weeks ago (takes a while for me to get my act together scanning polaroids – what an effort, but worth it):

Kath and Theo.

Kath and Theo.

and a pic of @reigun and I at the old biscuit mill in woodstock about a month ago. Please note, if you have not yet experienced the glory that is a tuna burger from the biscuit mill on a saturday morning, then you are missing.out.on.life.

Happy times.

Happy times.

And that’s about it, apart from this Patty Pan that’s been on top of the fridge for a month now. Not really sure what it’s doing there, but it does make ‘getting the milk out the fridge’ a more ‘blogworthy’ experience.

Watching. Waiting.

Watching. Waiting.

Biding its time.

Biding its time.

In prison. These are my memoirs.

Hey y’ulle. Bet some of y’all are thinking I’ve been very quiet for someone who gets free stuff for writing a load of crap about brands on her blog. I have been quiet, but not by choice. I might be killed for saying this, but I’m being held captive by Vodacom’s 3G “service”.

See, I took out a contract thinking having Internet at home would mean 2 things: a) more time at work to focus on winning a Grand Black Lion Eagle Canned Loerie Award at work and b) more time to focus on bringing my 70 billion or so readers a better blog, filled with truth disguised as semi-illiterate irony within the context of my life as an attention-seeking copywriter with a god-complex (ie the ‘Everyman of Advertising’).

Alas, alack, my good intentions are half-way to hell by now, as is the soul of Vodacom, for selling me a service that doesn’t actually exist. Dear readers, you’ll notice a prominent lack of ‘funny pictures’, links and my trademark random pink, orange and green word-colouring in this post, and for that I apologize. They don’t allow a full-service WYSIWYG editing suite here in prison. It’s just me, my iPhone and the WordPress app. It’s cold, and there are rat apps gnawing at my feet apps. Where is my god now?

I’m going to try and blog once more tomorrow. I doubt Vodacom will let me. They’ve already confiscated the razor blades I was going to use to terminate our contract. Not really sure what the point of living without blogging is. Might have to think it through in another low-Fi blog post. MTN, Cell C – if you’re Reading this, please, send help. Destroy this blog post after Reading it. And tell my Mom I love her.

I wait with hope,
Alex