Welcome back to you working week. I sincerely hope it's unpleasant for you as it is for me. My recovery time has taken on what can only be described as "epic proportions" and I fear I may not get entirely through all this before I am obligated to punish myself once more.Jees, am I glad the Sibling only has a birthday once a year...
Friday started off nice and sedately. The folks came around and dropped off some heirloom furniture and bits before loading me into the back of their bakkie and buggering off to the Sibling's house for civilized dinner. I was kinda wondering why my mom was in hysterics as I sat there like a casual labourer. Turns out she was vividly reminded of an unfortunate incident from my youth, when I went on a very ill fated date. You see, I was so besotted and head-over-heals in love (I thought) with a certain young lady throughout high school, that I turned into the gangly, bumbling, acne-ridden idiot of the universe whenever I was within spitting distance of this wonderful girl. No wonder, in hindsight, I never got her to agree to a spot of "doctor-doctor". Anyway, lest we dredge up some long buried anguish and I have to start paying a therapist to listen to my silly sobbing for the rest of my life, let's cut a long story short.
By some miracle I managed to convince her to join me on what passed for a date back then, before budgets and one's own 4-wheel transport. I went all out, lemme tell you. Cycled down to the local florist to buy a bunch of roses and came back with a single forlorn looking carnation, much to my disgust, but I was going to make it work for me! Had even sorted out a friend's older sibling to pick me (us) up in something fancy resembling KITT from Knight Rider. Sorted!
Imagine my face when this doos pulls in with a bedraggled khaki Datsun bakkie. Sitting in the back of that fucking bakkie with my stupid little fucking carnation on my way to make an utter arse of myself with the girl of my dreams AND having my mother howling and shrieking with laughter was not doing anything to brighten my murderously foul mood. Ah! Memories...
On a far lighter note, Saturday the various members of Axxon assembled to start rehearsals in earnest for the upcoming show, War At The Warehouse II. It was as if we hadn't taken a break at all. My fuck it sounded awesome! Can't wait to don the toight pants of awesomeness again and strut our stuff for all of you. Incidentally, A Walk With The Wicked, Cape Town's grooviest Death Metallers have announced themselves as the final band in the line up. And they WILL own your soul!
Saturday night and another trip to the Sibling's, although altogether less harrowing and in the driver's seat this time. There were beers. There were shots. There was a lot of noise and even more people. There was even a "boob-off". Bless my life. Even if the participants were either family or not particularly someone whose boobs I'd like to see. I think I had quite a few shots round about this time. There was apparently an "incident" in the bathroom, although I plead innocence due to not remembering anything. There was a camera. Uh oh...
Sunday morning came streaming through the window like a rapist on tik, and we drove home without sunglasses. Murder.
Somehow the SABC contrived to once again re-enforce why I refuse to pay a TV Licence. It's the Rugby World Cup and they could be bothered to obtain the licence to broadcast a semifinal (one that we would have been in were it not for Bryce The P**s) live on their hallowed list of stations. Thank goodness we found Percy's open. It's amazing that some people still support Australia. Not only were they getting thoroughly moered, but this joker (probably from Parklands) also felt it necessary to make the gathered masses understand that he knew the rules of rugby, and in so doing, that he was an utter pillock. You know the type: pop up collar and wears a cap indoors, and uses words like "china" and "bru" without any ironic intonation. All his mates have names that end in "ty" or "ro"...
Let's not get started on the drunk M.I.L.N.F that was more interested in discussing the nutritional benefits of yoghurt instead of shutting the fuck up and watching the game...
The rest of Sunday was spent slouching on the couch. That is all. I felt like I'd been ravaged by a battalion of bloodthirsty badgers. The only consolation was that the T20 game carried on the pleasant theme of Australia getting a good kicking...
NGDG: "Here's a novel idea - "Occupy" a desk, draw up a budget, and see how many times 'bank', 'stock market' or 'executive remuneration packages' appear alongside 'restaurant, 'take out', 'car repayment' or 'buying stupid shit on credit'."
Spread The Love. Away From The Convicts And Psychos...
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