New Year, new beginnings

Welcome to the first column of the new year.

It usually takes me a good six months to settle into the new digits. I used to burn dozens of cheques every year by writing the wrong year. Does anyone still use cheques anymore? What a weird concept it is now. Anyway, I digress. May 201112 be pleasant and powerful for you all.

A MILLION MILES FROM NORMAL – By Paige Nick
NEW YEAR, NEW BEGINNINGS.

For example, I was wondering what it would feel like to be a man. I know most guys say that if they had a pair of boobs they’d never leave the house. But they would have to get out there eventually; good bras don’t grow on trees you know.

Having a penis would be a strange, but interesting experience. And who couldn’t do with a set of balls in this life? One thing’s for certain, if I got to be a guy for a day I’d want to travel around looking for events to attend. Things like rock concerts, movies, or sporting events, just so I could go out and not have to queue to get into the bathroom for once. That would be awesome. And don’t even get me started on how nice it would be to be able to pee standing up. You have no idea how good you’ve got it, guys. Although I promise ladies, when I’m a guy for a day, I will always put the seat down when I’m finished, it’s simply common courtesy. (Hint, hint!)

And while we’re putting in orders, I wonder what it would be like to be rich? I’d like to try that life on for size for a day or two, complete with matching Louboutin’s, polo matches and a yacht. I often tell myself I’d get bored if I didn’t have to work, but I think that’s just something non-rich people tell themselves to feel better about not being rich.

And the last life I’d really like to try out, ever so briefly would be being a dog or a cat for a day or two. But I wouldn’t want to be a dog or a cat in China or Japan, no way, It would have to be in a home in Sandton, or Camps Bay. Some of my friends treat their pets like royalty, it wouldn’t be such a bad life. Taking naps between naps, dragging my human out for a walk if I feel like it, using my sad puppy dog eyes to guilt them into sharing their biltong. Or using my cat brains to con them into letting the enemy dog out while it’s raining. Plus If I was a dog or a cat I’d be able to lick my own butt, and that has to be quite something.

Then at the end of it all, once I’ve tried on a bunch of different lives on for size, I think I’d like to return to just being me, a writer, living in Cape Town. Preferably one who stuffed a bunch of cash into her pockets while nobody was looking, while she was trying on the rich life.