Nice to meet you. And you. And you. And you.

It's my first Monday here in the creative shire. It's also the first day back at work for all the agency regulars. Add those together and you get a lot of "Who the hell is that?" whispered amongst the perms*.

I have met some new people in the kitchen. Shared awkward bathroom moments with others. And noticed one or two suspicious looks.

Like this:

And this:

And this:

Ok. There aren't any babies. But look at hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiim. One day I'm going to have a baby, feed him green jelly and post pictures of him on the internet. Meme in there somewhere? *fingers crossed*

Hold on, where was I? Oh right.. suspicious looks.

I can almost hear the perms' telepathic conversations at the water cooler.

*Ahem*

"I like water."

"I like water too."

"Wait..Who's she?"

"Dunno."

"Oh. I love her dress, though!"

"Me too! Didn't Scarlett where something similar once?"

Yes. It went exactly like that and you can't prove otherwise. Ha.

So I just want to take this opportunity to reassure the perms: I'm pretty sane. I'm not an undercover vulcun, or a Jupiter spy, or a drug smuggler.

They're just peanuts. Promise.

Will be fun to get to know you all.

#bestiesforever #toosoon?

*Permanent employees. I'm on contract right now.

Bon Appetit to me.

A little factoid I forgot to mention: I've started something of an "eating programme." "Eating programme" being a term of faith, really, considering there isn't much chewing involved at the moment. Or ever.

Yup. Shakes.

It's great. (Seriously!) They don't taste tooo bad. Fruit juice. Powder stuff. Milk. Done. The only downfall that I've come across right now is the hallucinations.

(Yes, that is what the "H" in "Herbalife" stands for.)

(It is TOO an acronym!)

They're very real. Look:

Steak.

Steak.

Biiiiig steak.

People are saying it's just withdrawals. Which is obviously crap.

"Werbalife" would never sell.

#happyweekendeveryone #sip

Living to type another day.

Advertising can be dangerous. It’s true. Clients froth at the mouth. Deadlines bite you in the bottom. And Traffic managers throw daggers. It all gets quite ugly if you pop in after 10am.

Today, however, things were fairly Disney in the studio, so we decided to go out and find danger. Well, it was that or read, re-read and re-re-read briefs.

We had to locate the most dangerous street in Cape Town. No. We had to survive the most dangerous street in Cape Town. The one that is known for the most violent crimes. The most notorious gangsters. The one that was conveniently located down the road from the office.

Gympie Street.

I know. We were let down too. I am still convinced Neil Diamond protected us - he has magical powers. And he was in his school fencing team.

Ok. Back to this “alcohol-related-brand-whose-name-I-can’t-mention”-brief then. Here’s to hoping you made it through your day too.

#arethesehashtagsworking?

Day 2: An Ode to Seabiscuit

I battle to sleep. I’ve struggled since I was ten. Not festive. My attempt last night involved a muscle relaxant of my brother’s. One little pill dissolved under the tongue – no harm in that, I figured.

This morning I overslept my alarm. By two. Hours. Why? “That’s not a muscle relaxant. That’s a tranquiliser.”

A tranquiliser. The things they give horses. And, if I am battling after my little pill, I now have a newfound respect for the Seabiscuits of the world. You race. Hit the tranquilisers. Nap in the horse trailer en route to your next gig. Race again. No biggie.

I, on the other hand, type, hit the tranquilisers, power nap in the loos, and then return to squiggle the next D&AD award winner on a layout pad. (It's called "faith," people)

The star of the hour. Or post. Unless it takes you an hour to read this. Then both apply.

So, Seabiscuit, as the founding father of the horseracing fraternity (no, there were NO horses before Seabiscuit!), this post goes out to you. I hope that one day I too have your stamina and zest for the work you got up for every day. For now I endeavor to simply stay awake while I brainstorm here:

My hip and cool designer. Yes, he's mine. I keep him in my cupboard.

#ifIhashtagseabiscuitdoIgettomeettobeymaguire?

Hello, ad agency. *curtsy*

Today is my first official day back at an agency desk since April last year. Yes, I have not worked full time for the past, count them, eight months. Instead, I have been here:

Here.

And here.

Now I am here:

But I am positive. (And tired. Veeery tired.) You’ll be glad to know that I have accomplished all the major goals of “first-day-back-at-work”ness. And it’s not even noon yet.

1) I have found the bathrooms. Useful for ablutions, awkward basin conversation and the gashing out of eyes post ridiculous creative briefings.

2) I have made friends with Traffic. These are the people who have the power to keep me at my desk into the wee hours of the morning. Hair compliment: check.

3) I have located the tea! *cue soft shaft of light from the heavens* Anyone who knows me, knows my blood is a cocktail of plasma, cells and Five Roses. Which is great, unless I need a blood transfusion one day. Then I am royally forked.

4) I have cleaned my keyboard. My “OCD self” just gave my “practical self” a hug. Didn’t help my first impression here in the office, I’ll admit, but I’m wearing a pretty purple dress. (There’s logic in there somewhere. I hope.)

5) Posts need five points. It’s an unspoken rule. That I just made up.

And that’s my first post. I quite enjoyed writing that. I think I’ll write another tomorrow. See you then.

#becausehashtagsarecool