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Mad as March Here

2010-03-05 13:29
March 2010 is a month filled with weirdness.

There's Oscars, SAMAs, Alice in Wonderland in 3D, the anniversary of Schabir Shaik's pizza party medical parole. To add to the fun, our own Prez JZ goes bounding around in the UK causing kak with the Queen. Imagine the dialogue:
QUEEN: Off with his head!
EXECUTIONER: Certainly, Your Majesty. Which one?

And then there's real life. Last night, for example, I dreamed two of my friends were very hungover - but thankfully one of them had remembered to buy curtains . They were quite nice curtains actually, with a convenient double layer that allowed them to sleep late even on very sunny mornings.

My brain probably invented this detail because - due to circumstances involving a weightlifter with massive hands, a Canadian actor who spoke fluent Dutch, German, French, and sign language, and a strange lady-writer named Astrid who carried oddly relevant magazine clippings in her handbag - I had already slept through my alarm clock.

I guess the curtain-buying thing was also my ailing mind's desperate attempt to compensate for my bizarre real life. Just between you and I: You'd have to be on serious hallucinogens to invent my last three years on earth in real life. It's like The Astronaut's Wife meets Dexter meets a porno version of Breakfast at Tiffany's overlaid with elements of Apocalypse Now.  But in my dreams, I'm a really good girl. I fully except to wake up one morning and discover that, in my sleep, I've knitted a lovely scarf and baked and iced two dozen cupcakes.

Yes, life is weirder than weird. And some of the world's favourite movies (and books) exploit and celebrate its natural trippyness. Sure, the idea of falling down a rabbit hole, chatting to a rabbit in a waistcoat, and playing croquet with flamingos may be a little odd. But is it really any odder than entering the world through a vagina? What on earth was God smoking when he came up with that idea?  Perhaps a talking typewriter IS a drug-induced fantasy. But can you explain sea horses? I don't think so. And for every old woman who lives in a shoe, I'll raise you Angelina Jolie.

It seems being rich and famous only amplifies people's bizarre tendencies. If you interviewed Julius Malema's childhood friends you'd probably discover that he began life as an ordinary schoolyard bully. All kids like building houses out of cardboard boxes, fairground rides and sleep-over parties, but not everyone has the financial resources to actually build Neverland.

So... I may have done some crazy shit. But nothing I've ever done registers on the bizarre scale when matched against the real lives of the Hollywood celebs who will be gathering in Los Angeles while we're all fast asleep, to find out if they're one of the lucky winners of an Academy Award.

And what's strangest of all, for me, is that these stars with their unbelievably crazy lives earn all their money pretending to be normal, ordinary, regular, stable, sane folk who knit stuff and bake cupcakes. If that doesn't strike you as extraordinary, what does?

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