BARF LIES

A group of intrepid drinkers (drinking machines, more like) convene on Monday evenings at randomly chosen locations within the City Bowl to do what they do best. Sit around, drink copiously and enjoy the good life, talking kak and having a good laugh with good mates. It is little wonder I was invited. Let's see how long that lasts...

Anyway. last night was my first official attendance to the weekly "Hillbilly Barflies" night. Not owning a pair of dungarees and with a distinct lack of penchant for incest, I was a little apprehensive. But as I strode onto the front porch of now cleaned-up Perseverance Tavern, I was greeted with a roar and some spilling of beverages by The Dean. Ah! A figurative home away from home! Bring on the beer!

I was ably escorted by every one's favourite party animal, Tarty Farty Tequila Party, and we sat down to a table full of Monday night revellers (including TDB) and commenced the very important business of getting shitfaced. Drinks flowed, new friends were made, much frivolity and laughter was had as, among other things, cameras were dunked into pints of Guinness...

JDP even deigned to join us, having to carve out a little time from his busy schedule. I believe he is one of the instigators of this little group, so he had better...

One of the apparent traditions of the BARF LIES is to come up with ridiculously hysterical quips and post them as "quotes". I should actually go and have a look to see if they're as funny the next day as they seemed at the time...

Anyway, thanks one and all for an awesome evening out, and for this motherfucker of a hangover.

Spread the love. Round of tequila anyone?

WEAKENED... WEEKEND... STICK IT.

Weekends used to be the epicentre of fun and relaxation. I am currently working on a design for a new t-shirt, which will have "Born To Be Mild" emblazoned over the front of my torso. Maybe "Old Fart" printed near the bottom of the back?

You see, the problem is I still think I can party like it's 1996. And that alcohol doesn't turn me into a tit.

Friday night saw me spend the night with a wonderful group of like minded individuals at a guest house in Kommetjie. Beautiful place right on the beach, great music, good company, and a very well stocked bar fridge. Lethal combination...

So much so that on our ill advised moonlit beach walk at some ungodly hour, I inadvertently pulled an Ingrid Jonker on myself when I misjudged the depth of the onrushing wave. Luckily the icy water provided some much needed - if a little sudden - lucidity to the picture, although that didn't last long. With beds actually unoccupied, my considerable genius opted for a kip on the wicker couch with nothing more than a small bath towel covering me.

Saturday morning was not pleasant. Especially the drive home. At least I managed a nap before the next night out, which invariably these days, involved another happy trip out to Tableau Voi. On the way to my final destination, I stopped in for my customary cuppa at the AzTart Tequila Haus and Small Person Emporium, and after some small talk was soon on my way to the House Warming. I had arranged to arrive early in order to catch the FA Cup semi final. United lost. A result which either way, face it, was going to illicit excessive drinking.

Thankfully I had my usual accomplices in attendance so when being shooed to bed at another ungodly hour, I didn't have to feel bad alone. Oh it was a glorious party! We drank. We danced. We even dipped. As in "dipped" a lady. Whilst dancing. I didn't even drop her or anything. We educated, and were educated right back, on the music front. We ate Woolworths' entire snack stock.

The next morning I once again awoke to luxurious comfort. On a bunk bed 2 feet too short for my frame... Thanks to our kind and gracious hosts.

As I was driving home I suddenly remembered the recording session I had booked for that afternoon. After some much needed postponement (for a nap) luckily that went well. Seems I am suddenly getting good at this. Not much to report further.

Hope you all thoroughly enjoy the short work week. I, like I'm sure so many others around our work besotted country, have taken the 3 days leave over the next while that result in a 10 day holiday.

Spread the love. Nutella is the new Melrose.

BOOBS!

I freakin' LOVE boobs! My kingdom for a set to use for my exclusive entertainment! Even for a little while!

It's days like today - NATIONAL CLEAVAGE DAY - which torment and torture me with the overwhelming visual reminder that I don't get to do anything more than window shop...

Whilst I'm not complaining about the abundance of bountiful and beautiful brassiere busters on display, I lament that I cannot go home to a real set of my own...

I mean, think about the wondrous entity that is gift wrapped so enticingly in the ol' Wonderbra. Two lovely round handfuls of soft inviting pink protuberances rounded off with a nipple each... Ah, the nipple. Such a little concentration of pleasure - both for the admirer and the bearer.

I need something to make my hands stop shaking. Maybe a beer to soothe the flustered brow.

At least my buddies over the years have have filled my home with all form of boob-shaped memorabilia. I have a boob coffee mug, boob shower soap and even a set of "jiggly-juggly-squishy-stressball" boobs.

My kingdom for a real pair!

Spread the love. By the,erm, handful...

GLORY! GLORY!

I know it's a little early to be celebrating, as United have only made the semis, but they did just beat Chelsea, which is kind of a big deal. For me anyway. Now before you go on your little Red Devil rants, please be aware that there are genuine fans and there are those that aren't...

Anyway, happy days! Yesterday was a wonderful football-crammed day. Went to go and play football at the new spot and had a radical game. The turnout was good, which is always a good place to start. Went out for a quick beer afterwards and then was joined by TDB and The Commander for the Champions League semi final.

About 15 minutes in I was jumping up and down, punching the air (I don't like Windhoek Lager) and screaming Rooney-esque obscenities to my guests and the television public in general. It took me a while to realise the Hernandez had been ruled offside. Erm...

Thankfully I was given the opportunity to "celebrate" again on the stroke of half time, when the little Mexican fellow rounded off a sublime move by Giggs and O'Shea. My neighbours really are unbelievably tolerant and understanding.

So after having to endure a very nerve wracking minute after Chelsea had equalised, the 2 goal (on aggregate) advantage was once again restored, much to the lounge suite and assembled friends' alarm.

I'm taking bets to see how long Carlo Ancellotti lasts...

Oh, and you MUST have noticed the awesome banner my mate, the ridiculously talented Stephen Green, made for me. Sweet, huh?

Spread the love. Just keep your shower cap and some emergency taxi fare handy.

Mega Moanday - post WEEKEND WONDER (WOMAN?)

By now you should have realized the pic has sod all to do with the content. And the content has sod all to do with anything of any relevance.

Usually I moan about horrendous hangovers and the like, but today it's simply a general "Damn I wish I was on a permanent vacation" kind of complaint...

Somewhere exotic. Somewhere permanently bathed in sunlight. Somewhere renowned for it's beautiful scenery and even more beautiful women. Somewhere iconic the rest of the world clamour to get to and spend millions doing so.

Oh wait a minute! I already live in Cape Town. Now all I have to do is find a way to sustain myself whilst sipping ice cold beer with my feet up. If I had that answer you can be sure I wouldn't blog about it...

So this weekend was very productive. I played "engineer, engineer" for a very talented and exciting group of musicians, AXXON (well... 2 of them) as we set about recording guitars and vocals in my home studio. All went very well, I am glad to announce. Can't wait to hear the final product (watch this space - due by the end of the week).

Other than that, precious little happened. Which is probably a good thing. It's been a while since yours truly had to do damage control for an episode of unwarranted debauchery. The clock it is a-ticking... who would like to place a bet on when next I do something so monumentally, absurdly dumb that I land squarely in the kak again? Gives a whole new meaning to "digging yourself out of it..."

Anyway, children of the light, remain upbeat and let's make it to the end of the week with minimum casualties. Ha! As IF that's possible...

Tonight's illustrious gathering of bloggers promises to be tits up within minutes. Tarty Farty Tequila Party has somehow wormed her way into the sacred confines of that most holy engagement, band practice...

Band practices on Monday nights typically involve TDB and Rose Thorn, neither of whom blog anymore, and I feel they should be struck from the role. Or just struck for the hell of it.

Band practices also typically involve 3 other good buddies of ours: food, wine and beer. They promise to be making a turn tonight, stay tuned for some garbled whimpering here tomorrow...

Spread the love. Like cocaine on a hookers ass.

IRREVERENT FRIDAY

You can ALL let out a collective sigh of relief... It's IRREVERENT FRIDAY ! ! !

Now what could be more irreverent that posting a picture like this little gem? I mean, come on! It's taking the piss, surely... Most people I know worship SLAYER. (Yes it's always written using capitals - it's the rules.) Can you imagine the grand power a simple "redesign" like this has over the faithful fornicating masses? Reducing grown, hairy, badass metalheads to little dribbling bitches just from the sheer magnitude of the irreverence...

Either that or they'll just go out and drink their sorrows away, trying to blot out this image and get into a fight with a pint sized lady boy. Sigh... Will goths and metalheads never get along?

Well, here's hoping each and every one of you has a fantazmagorical weekend. Every time you realize just how much you're (take note, not "your") having a goooood ol' time, I want you to stop and remember this image. Or try not to think of it - even better...

Hehehehe.

Spread the love. For the Bieber tells me so...

LOVE IS IN THE AIR - And the public restroom...

I freakin' LOVE that picture! What on earth possessed the creator to come up with all the "activities"? Are these borne of past events inside the bathroom? Who gets head in front of a urinal? Mind you - that's pretty rock n roll! If you don't mind the stench of pee and urinal cakes.

And leading on directly from that very convenient introduction: Romance is in the air, I say!

Everyone I know - well most - are hooking up, shacking up or making up. Beautiful times I tell ya! Now pass me a dead fly so I can play "She loves me... She loves me not..."

These wonderful acts of renewed love, lust and libidinous ardour are all good and well, but may come with some price. This I know for absolute empirical fact.

As such, I feel I should impart some little nuggets... no, keep reading... of truth regarding the matter. Kind of like survival tips for the recently-blinded-by-little-floating-hearts:

1. Under no circumstances should the other person find out the real you for at least 6 months. This is really easy as most of you have had many years of disguising your inadequacies and shortcomings. Also, this may just lead to there being a 6 months.

2. In today's day and age when it is so easy to find out so much more than before about the person that you find attractive, try and restrict yourself from excessive FaceBook stalking and leering through windows. And as we all know "watching them while they sleep" is downright creepy and something the "guy" from Twilight did. Gay.

3. Refrain at all costs from actually letting the other person know how you feel. Heaven forbid you're honest enough to go "Hey, I like you and I'm so into you I really dig kissing you". Oh no no no no. One must at all times maintain an air of mystery so that only once you have fooled the other party into leaving a toothbrush and a change of underwear, are you allowed to be yourself. This usually coincides with the passing of 6 months and excessive gas under the duvet.

4. Drink too much. Make sure the other person drinks too much. Neither of you are enough fun without being shitfaced. Trust me.

5. Try and avoid the ex factor.

6. If you are a girl, try and refer to animals by their designated noun and not the version employed by 5 year old daddy's princesses in conjunction with the sound they make. Like "kitty-meaoow". It's a fucking cat.

7. If you are a guy, ignore when she says "kittymeaoow" and concentrate really hard on that wonderful day she starts trying to win your waning affections with random surprise blowjobs and can't say "kittymeaoow".

8. Be over the top vehement about your music tastes. This will mean that you don't have to listen to some lame shit as a compromise because you were distracted by ass when REM was playing...

9. Make your expectations known as soon as possible. If he/she/it doesn't bolt immediately you're both in with a fighting chance. No matter how trivial or earth shattering these are, trust me if they aren't adhered to down the line, they become relationship threatening.

10. Accept that the whole ugly "gedoente" is DOOOOMED anyway and try and squeeze as much enjoyment as you possibly can out of it while you can. Just be careful not to seem too anxious. Lie. Pretend. Deceive... It's your only shot.

Spread the love. Until it's time to bale.

NO EYE DEER

Once again I have zippedee doodah idea why I chose this picture. Probably because today I have been saved from absolute homicidal boredom by my friends on Skype and FB chat.

I was going to call this post "LAST NIGHT A BJ SAVED MY LIFE" but that would obviously be a big fat fib.

Alright. Let's recap the last few adventure filled days for you - my dearly beloved readers.

Please be seated.

And open your prayer guides to the bit where it says Friday started out much the same as any Friday, with me raising a cold glass to your favourite deity and mine, Bacchus. A couple of beers later I found myself in the tequila dispensing kitchen of AzTart's Bike Haus and Small Person Emporium. Did I say tequila? Yup, obviously she was there...

I may have been a little mortifyingly obnoxious...

Saturday was Cricket World Cup Final day. This is a very important day and it was spent in the only way it should be. Have a mate over who is at least knowledgeable about the game and drink beer. Then braai. Man food. No salad!

Sunday I decided to test my hangover at Builder's Warehouse. I carried a metric ton of bricks from my front driveway through my house and stacked them neatly at the back of the backyard. I needed a beer after all that.

TDB came around and we made the best potjie ever made by mortal hands. I was under severe pressure to impress my folks, whom I had invited because they always bring wine. Anyway, I decided to call it "Prince Of Oranje Potjie", mainly because it had 2 orange ingredients and by that time I'd started on the wine.

In other news, 2 very good friends of mine got back together and I got to hear all the nasty ins and outs about their blossoming reunion. I'm very happy for both of you Rose Thorn!

Anyway, dear reader (on the internet, where my friends live), on that rather convoluted bombshell, tata.

Spread The Love. I'm still waiting.