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288 pages, Paperback
First published November 6, 2012
"I was reckless to the point of stupidity. I mean, I climbed in cars with strangers, I climbed on the back of motorbikes with strangers...well basically, I climbed on strangers. I was drunk and I didn't care. I sought out constant adventure, anything out of the ordinary, anything to occupy my mind. Boredom was equivalent to death.Keep me stimulated, keep me busy, busy, busy, so I don't have to endure the silence or be alone...in my head...with my ruminating rancor."
"It appeared that sex and love were two very different beasts. I could lose in love, but gain in sex. Love was guaranteed to hurt, but sex only occasionally hurt. I had sex for several reasons, and none of them were because I was suffering an overactive libido. I had sex to acquire things, to solidify my power, and, on an unconscious level, to punish myself."
"On closing my bank account in Johannesburg, the teller confided that roughly thirty people a day we're pulling their money out. Take the money and run. The South African government did not permit the removal of vast sums from the country, knowing full well that everyone was desperate to get their money out. I'd accumulated R20,000 in savings, so I padded the bottom of my suitcase with bank notes, smiled sweetly at the custom officials, and carried my boodle onto a plane. Easy Peasy!"
"I was an unfit mother, hell I was an unfit everything. As a student, I bunked school, then I dropped out of university. As a girlfriend I cheated on every boyfriend I ever had. As an employee, I was fired from numerous positions; BUT (big but here), I knew 100% that I was better equipped to care for Samantha than my mother was. There would be no Hell Camp for the Snausage-girl."