I have this client who insists on calling me Caarrrloo.
I've corrected him so many times but to no avail; i'm starting to think he's retarded.
Today I told him the 'R' was silent.
He has this annoying way of leaning really heavy on the 'R' when he says my name.
In the grand scheme of things, I guess it's better than being called Peepee. I may be spelling it wrong, but that's the name of a guy I met today who told me four times in two sentences that he was from Nigeria. Peepee from Nigeria. He runs a teaching academy. I think he tutors in repettitiveness. (There's a good chance I spelt that wrong, but i'm too lazy to spell-check right now).
So Peepee (it could very well be PP, but where's the fun in that?) tell's me today that in Nigeria, where he's from as he mentioned repeatedly, he was the principal of the local school. I love listening to and conversing with people, partly because i'm fascinated by peoples story's, but mostly because i'm always looking out for material for my blog :)
I asked him why he would leave Nigeria as a school principal to open shop in the concrete jungle of Johannesburg. Turns out Peepee had lived up to his name and got one of his students pregnant.
Okay he didn't exactly confess right off the bat.
He said he fell in love with a student, and was forced to make a tough decision.
Speaking of making tough decisions. I was at my friend George's place tonight, and they have this really cool wall with notches marked on it, and every family member has his name written on the wall at his respective height. I think there were dates too, I cant remember.
Anyways, George tell's the story of a family friend who was a choirmaster, and had an entire wall with every students height and name marked on it.
At some point he decided to do some renovations to the building, but was intent on keeping the wall intact with all the kids names and notches marked on it.
Except this message wasn't relayed to the painter, who proceeded to paint the wall completely.
Did I mention the notches and dates went as far back as 1969?!
We haven't decided on whether we're having a party for Princess Sabreen this weekend.
My "friends" are still trying to convince me to wear the Barney suit on the day. I'm suspicious of their loyalty and dubious advice. Besides, i've been to see the costume hire people and quite frankly the suit stinks inside!
I think a few Barney dad's before me may have had Mexican food before donning the costume. I'm sure I could still feel some mouldy nacho's in the suit.
That's it for tonight.
It's been an extremely long day and as much as I still have tons to write about, I suspect the opportunity will present itself again over the weekend.