Wednesday, June 29, 2011

THE BERGIE, THE BAND AND THE JDP




[Please note, dear, gentle reader, that this was meant to be posted yesterday, but fucking blogsport was up to its eyes in shit...]


Well. I don't know what feels worse. The lactic acid literally EATING everything from my eyelids to my toes or the hellish hangover...


Once again last night I indulged in some masochistic mountaineering with the aid of the far too chirpy sadistic bastard otherwise known as Commander Crapstick and the wonderful canine companions Yoda and Phoebe, who don't seem affected at all by physical strain. No fair. At least this time I managed to avoid the dry-heave-air-vomit-blackout and am glad to announce that I am still alive. Unfortunately death would be an infinitely more attractive option right now.


Especially combining my aches and pains with the monumenstrual hangover threatening to crush my very soul. It all started with a very successful jam session last night, where a select few members of the most exclusive music appreciation society in the Universe played a couple of very cool covers for an as yet unnamed upcoming show. Shhhh! It's a secret. Secrets are cool.


Then Tarty Farty Tequila Party and I zooted off to join our dear Trilby-sporting, Jihad-artiste-scarf-wearing friend JDP. It was his birthday and we convened at the Vesperado's clubhouse for a night of fun, friends and and something called picklebacks...


Yoh! Talk about popular, our boy JDP!


Celebrities ran amok, new friends were made, old friends were toasted and everyone had a grand old time! Being the sweet and considerate friend I am, I decided to adhere to the old Marine mantra of never leaving a friend behind, which basically meant I took it upon myself to catch up with the carnivordigoggled obliterated drunken state that JDP was in. Mission accomplished. Unfortunately for me and Tarty, that also meant that I then had to leave some friends behind, as I too was then carnivordigoggled obliterated drunk and started nagging like a child to please be taken home - it being a school night after all...


All in all a spectacular success - met with mildly deranged panic this morning about 30 seconds after my eyes were opened to the horror of the day that lies ahead.


At least we have some positive things to celebrate. Today is Sheik Yerbouti's birthday. Happy birthday! And hope the schmodelling goes well and everyone treats you like a princess.


Yes, yes I know. No post yesterday, you have my humblest apologies. My hands were sore from the 2 circuits I did around our football fields on Tuesday. I'll make it up I swear. (Hey, I make all this shit up anyway, not really a stretch for me...)


And on that alarmingly charming note, I bid you all adieu for nieu. But not before...



... NGDG: "You have cool people on your profile you've never met in real life? Of course. It's not like I'm going to meet cool people in the CBD or at the Spar."



[The first time I read that, I read the Spur]



Spread The Love. Spread It? Spread 'Em! Like You're About To Get A Full Cavity Search...



Tuesday, June 28, 2011

DE AGONY OF DE FEET






No amount of explanation, or words strung together - however many expletives are used, will EVER be able to sufficiently describe the horror of last night's little jogging jaunt or the hellish pain wretchedly wrapping its foul tentacles around every bone, muscle and organ in my broken body.


In my infinite wisdom I came to the rather disastrous conclusion that, since I am doing a fund raising run of 6km in less than 3 weeks, I had better get into some semblance of running form, lest I collapse 5 and a half km from the finish line / pub. Whilst the video would probably go viral in a matter of seconds, the idea is to complete the run as several of the pledges are per km run.



So I contact Commander Cramp and join him on his daily jog-up-and-down-Table-Mountain slash walk-the-dog slash take-in-the-splendid-view. I am fairly certain that were we allowed to update our relationship status on FaceBoobs to something involving inanimate objects, I would claim to be in a committed relationship with my Mountain. I love that hunk of rock so much, I get homesick when I visit my parents 25km away. Not so much anymore. She almost killed me yesterday.


It all started out very promising. Got to the parking lot of Deer Park and was informed cheerfully that stretching wasn't really necessary as we were going to "take it nice 'n' easy". Kak!


I was doing reasonably well for the first bit, prancing my way up the slight incline and commenting on how well I was doing. My first misgivings started to make themselves evident when the chatting became suddenly very one sided and I had to concentrate on the simple act of breathing. But, manfully, I prevailed and refused to give up. Thankfully my body very soon overpowered my mind and mid sentence Commander Cramp had to turn around to see me hunched over and looking for a lung some distance back. Walking a little distance to regain my bearings and catch some rather erratic breath, we once again commenced the torture. Almost made it to the point where I was politely informed "Oh this is the part where I usually walk". Absolute horror, confusion and a fixed facial contortion greeted the cheerful smiling ringleader of the Circus Of Death, but he made me carry on anyway. I looked up and asked if we were going to use fixed ropes or wait to be airlifted...


I walked. Up. I never thought I'd literally almost vomit from walking, but on eventually reaching the summit of our mild afternoon saunter, I couldn't breath or see out of my left eye. Wonderful view be damned! I want the Spear Of Destiny our of my torso please...


This was halfway. I am pleased to announce that the descent was far more palatable, I only had to stop once as we galloped down the winding way concentrating with all my might on not nosediving like a drunk diva or turning my ankle on the rocky road. Momentum and the promise of a cold beer and eventual recovery got me there, barely.


Today I do a couple of laps around the football field before I start playing. Probably in my car...


Would it be cheating if I strapped on some rollerblades on the day and grabbed onto the marshall bike?


Watch this space.


NGDG: "Gay marriage? Fine. But don't come around in 2 years asking for a gay divorce."


Spread The Love. Mostly On Me. And By Love I Mean Deep Heat.

Monday, June 27, 2011

SHITLIST




Not the kind of list that lists a list of people that piss me off.


The kind of list that lists a list of the THINGS that piss me off.




  1. People that insist on taking a wide berth into your lane when turning a corner.

  2. Knoppiedrukkers. The type who must make use of official pedestrian crossings. At the expense of the traffic flow.

  3. Finger injuries.

  4. Someone reading over my shoulder.

  5. People who use their cell phones while they're driving.

  6. Call centres.

  7. People that just fail to pitch up to events that are important to their friends.

  8. Meat Markets.

  9. Getting out of bed on winter mornings.

  10. The fact that so many average people in the world are dumb enough to believe that they are above average.

  11. SMS text abbreviations taking over the way people communicate.

  12. Atrocious spelling and grammar that have become commonplace.

  13. Being added to Facebook groups without so much as a "by your leave".

  14. People spending money jazzing up cheap, reliable cars to make them look sporty, even though they don't go faster. Why don't they spend the extra money on buying a better car in the first place?

  15. Loud music through cheap speakers.

  16. Minibus taxis standing still and hooting incessantly.

  17. Cat vomit.

  18. Common people that are permanently too cheerful.

  19. Online stores that are incapable of processing a simple transaction.

  20. Insistent sales reps, street (traffic light) vendors, Glomail ads and televangelists.

The list goes on and on and on, but let me not bore you with the details.

Let me rather enlighten and entertain you with stories of my fantastic and fascinating weekend.

I learned half the Axxon set. Well chuffed and it's all sounding pretty damn brilliant.

Recorded a few bits n bobs for Axxon as well. All very hush hush, you see.


Joined Rose Thorn as she gracefully added another year. We did dinner and dancing. I had pooh on my head.

Was treated to spectacular lasagne last night. Thanks Stephen.


Alas Monster Moanday is upon us once again and far too soon for the liking of some. Especially this Monster. To make it better go and read about Tarty's epic Napier adventure last weekend. I tagged along for most of it.


On with the slog...


NGDG: "Investigators have pinpointed Germany's E.Coli outbreak to the inexplicable mountain of cucumbers demanded backstage at Lady Gaga's recent tour of Munich." [Old post]


Spread The Love. In A Listless Yet Vigorous Manner.


Friday, June 24, 2011

FEEDING THE FIVE THOUSAND - ON AN IRREVERENT FRIDAY

"Daddy would you like some sau-sa-ges!!??!!??"

It is Friday after all. Time to eat you some fish and to loaf about at the office. See what I did there? Wonder if the Pope strictly observes the Friday Fish thing?

Ok, so that takes care of today. The weekend ahead is full of exciting and nifty things to keep me occupied and out of too much mischief...
I am going to apply my pea brain to learning as much of Axxon's repertoire of amazing music as humanly possible tomorrow, and on Sunday I will be applying my pea-soup brain to recording guitars and vocals for the b-side from the much anticipated new Axxon single.

As far as nocturnal activity goes, I plan on emulating a hibernating polar bear in this wintry weather, coz you know, I'm cool like that. This was very ably pointed out by Sheik Yerbouti. Thanks.

As for the rest of my inner blogosphere, I would like to take this opportunity to congratulate Helena Handbasket for daily entertainment, unlike those other slacker friends of mine, for which this seems to have been nothing more than a passing fancy. Like tight black clothes. Or heavy metal. Or smoking... No. Wait... Hang on...

Also congrats to Tarty Farty Tequila Party for managing to syndicate her blog into 2 print media publications already! Not bad for someone that only deigns to blog once in a million years...

And just like that *poof* he disappeared...

The reason I brought up the figure FIVE THOUSAND is that, being as stats befuck as I am, I am just about to hit 5000 reads on this here little soap box. Thanks everyone of you for reading my nonsense!

NGDG: "Ironic that the FS number plates feature a cheetah when the driver has the pace and directional capabilities of a fucking guinea fowl."

Spread The Love. Under (The Duvet) Cover.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

FACE DOWN... ASS UP?

Today is one of those days when I decided to let the random picture dictate the content of my inane rambling. Then I realised 2-Live-Crew already beat me to the punch.

So I had some lunch.

Whilst contemplating the packaging for my Cup-a-Soup, I caught myself rather enjoying spoonerising the vowels for "Lamb & Veg", which has led me to change my thinking, as I'm sure everyone has had enough of my moaning about you-know-what.

Happily it also occurred to me that I could comment, at the risk of coming across as all mushy (that's another story), on the overwhelming generosity of people I am currently getting to see. Not only are people digging deep to help a friend make himself look like a pillock for a good cause, but others have been kind enough to help out with other things. It's refreshing to be able to write about pleasant things, instead of my usual lamentations.

Mind you, I have been avoiding the news lately...

Fuck that, from now on I only read http://www.hayibo.com/.

In even more good news, band practice last night was particularly brilliant and productive. We're so fucking brilliant, we decided to keep it a secret from the rest of the world. The world isn't ready for how awesome it all is. Oh no wait, isn't that every little band on FaceBoobs? Oh well, maybe I should go invite a gasquillion people to an event I know they aren't going to attend.

No. No. No. No. No. Positive today.

And on that glowing note, here is Neal Goldwyer's Daily Gem:
"Neal Goldwyer is on holiday. Has been since yesterday afternoon. I take no responsibility for what I may do, say, or post in the upcoming days. Drunk Neal abides."

Spread The Love. Nice 'n' Thick 'n' Warm This Winter.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

FOKKEN PLUMBERS!





Daisy de Melker was on to something. How can the theoretically easiest mechanical process prove so damn frustrating and difficult to get right?

Pipe - ring - coupling - turn. Easy, right? Wrong!

And what's even more frustrating is that when called upon to do exactly the same thing for someone else, it's a raging success.

Anyway, at least my herb garden is looking good. Well, Rosemary is looking a bit lonely all by her lonesome, but it's not all overgrown and unruly yet.

On to other news. I am doing a fund run. I am aiming to collect donations to help a friend of mine's dad get treatment for cancer that is proving very expensive. In conjunction with the Sumo Run she is already doing in New Zealand, I too shall be legging it in aid of her dad's medical expenses. Except I'm treating it more like open mic night at the comedy club...

..."Give me a costume and a location!" kind of improv jogging/stumbling/ambling/falling perambulation.

So we will have to see who wins the suggestion sweepstakes. You are also encouraged to propose a song of your choice to go on the Pain Playlist. We're starting with the Rocky Montage and ending with Chariots Of Fire, since by the end of 6km I will probably only be capable of slow motion anyway. So far we have 'Eye Of The Tiger', 'Welcome To The Jungle', Rebecca Black's 'Friday' and Justin Bieber's 'Baby'. The last two are there to test my resolve faced with the ultimate torture I am sure.


I hope to have a ribbon crossing dive at the end like the last oke in the Comrades.


Any donation to this incredibly important cause would be most gratefully accepted, no matter how small you think it may be, it all counts. You can donate any amount, or even pledge an amount per tortuous kilometer.


My infinite gratitude to the kind souls that have already pledged or paid. Don't worry, Cuz I won't mention names lest people realise you're all heart. Shit! How do I delete this thing!?

A video is planned for those of you that can't cheer me along the route - and make fun of my costume, whatever it turns out to be.


*Disclaimer: I am willing to be humiliated, but legality, practicality and the weather will play a part in the eventual decision on costume.

So bring your cheque books, your pom-poms, your garden chairs, your thermoses, your banners of motivation and/or ridicule. Just be a part of it.



NGDG: "Neal Goldwyer is cooking home made Neopolitana with wholewheat spaghetti, while listening to Black Dahlia Murder. Give me a facelift and an underage hooker and you have modern Italy."


Spread The Love. And The Moolah. Please.



Monday, June 20, 2011

WEEKEND WOMBATS






See the picture. See the written content below. Try and find the connection...

Yowzah! What a long weekend!

I shall spare you the mundane details of how I spent most of Thursday in bed hiding away from the unpleasant cold.


Friday I was picked up in sheer luxury and, with good ol metal pumping nice n loud, set off for our weekend away at the the Patat Festival in Napier. I love Napier. My friends and I have a long history of visiting there and it will always have a special place in my heart. Also, it has made an indelible mark on my liver.

First stop, Suntouched Inn for a quick pint of the good stuff, before taking on the 20km dirt road out to our delightfully quaint farm cottages. Well, I say quaint. They had DSTV and a braai big enough to do an entire ox in one sitting. And a pool. And indoor fireplaces. And free rusks.

We braaied, drank, laughed, talked kak and generally had a very chilled time. And by chilled I mean "occasionally flick the frost forming on your friends' eyelashes off before their eyes freeze over shut altogether". Fuck it was cold!

Next morning after what was possibly the most leisurely breakfast of all time, we headed back into town to go and check out the festival. The breakfast was in fact so leisurely, then we missed the float parade and the newly crowned Miss Patat (or whatever). Not too dented, we boldly strode into the complex where the booze was and naturally made a b-line for the Napier Bier Stall, where the wonderfully awesome proprietor greeted us with a free pint each! Festival off to good start.

After browsing the various stalls, which looked like they'd been airlifted in from the parking lot next to The Strand beach, we settled in to watch the live band and enjoy another pint. The band was having fantastic fun and were entertaining the gathered crowd royally, until they were informed that their time was up and they'd have to pack it in. Rather sulkily they pretended to start striking down, when they surprised everyone with an impromptu and very gleeful rendition of Bob Dylan's classic 'Everybody Must Get Stoned'...

Seeing as the entertainment was thus over we decided to skedaddle to the Suntouched Inn so long. We actually did see someone pack a stash of potatoes in their car boot and then a lengthy procession of "skoutrekkers", another festival feature we obviously missed.

Nights at the Suntouched Inn are always the same. Without fail I drink far too much, have an ever widening grin, start rabble rousing with the locals and am thoroughly entertained by the talent on show. We were treated to a show of folky harmonies by a band called The Hedges. Awesomely adept, these lads are on their way up - there's no doubt.

Twelve billion ales and an ass-load of tequila later it was time to take on the dirt road again. We even had enough energy after all that to have a few more drinks back at the homestead. By the time we'd woken up the next morning Tarty Farty and Ms Vivacious had already buggered off to learn the gentle art of making croissants. Have I mentioned how ridiculously cold it is out in the middle of nowhere? After a brief stop to get our Moerse Pies, we were off.

Anyway, back in town it was immediately off to the Father's Day celebrations and watching pictures of my parents' recent vacation.


Back to life, back to reality, back to work. Fuck.

NGDG: "Neal Goldwyer wants to wish everyone a marvellous day. No, my profile has not been hijacked."

Spread The Love. Take A Chance.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

AAAAAH LONG WEEKEND, LONG-JOHNS AND LONG WALKS ON THE BEACH...



You guessed it. Like the rest of the country I am taking Friday off. I will be arriving in Napier (or rather a quaint little farm resort just outside Napier) for the annual Patat Festival. And I'm quite looking forward to it.

I am being taken by my good friend Tarty Farty Tequila Party (who has apparently developed a heinous case of writer's blog) - and joining us are Ms Viv-acious and Lars-But-Not-Least. Locals be terrified.

I am particularly looking forward to seeing my good friends at the best guesthouse in the Overberg, The Suntouched Inn, the wonderfully gracious Craighan and Angela Millar. Make sure the Napier Bier is cold and plentiful, please.

Can you imagine how cold it's going to be there this time of the year? It's gonna freeze the balls off a brass monkey. Kinda like that time we went to the Cedarberg and spent the day exploring mountains on camping chairs on the back of a bakkie...

Hopefully included in the multitude of near-by farm folk that are expected, will be a nice plaas meisie. One that has no fridge-sized buffalo of a boyfriend and questionable morals, if you please. A bit of rumpy-pumpy in the hay behind the langarm skoffelbaan would go down a treat.

In other news:


  1. I am now the proud owner of what is probably the most collectable piece of music I have ever had. A 3cd 64 page special edition hardcover book/cd set limited to only 3000 pressed. It's a reworking of the highlights of 20 years worth of material by My Dying Bride. All pieces are completely overhauled and presented entirely in orchestrated synth symphony and completely different lyrics and vocal arrangements. See pic above. Whoohoo!

  2. Last night I let a panel oil heater fall onto the top of my foot - no footie for a while. Bugger.





I'll be back on Monster Moanday. 'Til then, adios and thanks for the fish!

NGDG: "Why is it necessary to remake Girl With The Dragon Tattoo? Can the stupid fuckers please increase their reading speed and be satisfied with the subtitled original? Or play the audio book while you log into Suicide Girls to kickstart your treacly autistic imaginations."

Spread The Love. Behind The Langarm Skoffelbaan!

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

SOUTH AFRICAN REVENUE "SERVICE"




SARS...


It has sucked my will to live.


Altogether.


Wanna guess how?


They have changed the way they - in their infinite fucking wisdom - have chosen to apply the calculation of 14% VAT. Their calculation is wrong and it is going to cost them millions in revenue. It took me all afternoon to get to the bottom of this.


Dumb fuck WANKTARDS!


Frustration has taken on a new dimension.


NGDG: "You know a song is metal when it starts off with someone screaming in Japanese only to be slashed brutally with a ketana."


Spread The Love. Just NOT To Fucking SARS...




Monday, June 13, 2011

MALCOHOLOCAUST



Blondes. Sticking out their tongues. It's what life is all about.


How was your weekend?


Friday was a rather sedate affair. We celebrated the 30th birthday of a friend in some style at Luna Bar by putting on a successful surprise party. Like I said, very sedate. I decided much against my nature to admit that discretion was on the night the better part of valour and skedaddle home. What with the big party coming up and all...


Saturday, rather worthlessly, was spent cleaning the house in anticipation of the floods of people attending the Malcoholocaust, an annual event where the only point is to see how much alcohol one can put into one's body. It coincides roughly with my birthday.

It's only the first 5 or so people that even have a fighting chance of noticing whether or not your house is a sty or a palace of cleanliness, because as soon as there are more people, they start chatting to each other instead of scrutinising your home's hygiene. And then invariably someone spills tequila on the floor.


This year (for the first time in history) I did not have a butler/door answerer/concierge/hostess. Life without a girlfriend can be tough sometimes.


Anyway, eventually the house was bursting at the seams with revellers and the good times they started to roll. The Dean of Univer City was in attendance to bring us a wonderful load of Liquid Cocaines and The Big One provided us with a spectacularly underestimated punch. Some of which is keeping a small badger from returning to his family, as it's stuck to my kitchen cupboard door.


As usual I have only the vaguest recollection of the latter portion of the evening, a sure sign that I was having the time of my life. Thanks to all that came, especially my beautiful friends from The Big Shitty up North. Great to see the Meyer Of Awesomeville again.


The shit list, however, grows...


Yesterday's breakfast has got to be one of the raddest ever. My mate Stephen, from Axxon, was far too wellied to drive home, so spent the night on the sleeper couch. He also brought me a homemade 'Black Label Beer Bread'. This was put to good use as toast, which went with fried eggs and pan fried lamb chops. Best brekkie ever, I tell you.


Now to remember where I hid everything and get my house sorted out again.


NGDG: "Admit it. The only time you think it's a good idea to shave your balls is when you're drunk."


Spread The Love. ANCYL vs Gareth Cliff style.

Friday, June 10, 2011

CLOWN SHOE'D ASS-LOAF



Last night was awesome! The weather was perfect for football. Then we hooked up with every one's favourite foreign couple, the Meyodies, from The Big Chill.



Tradition won the day and we met at Mitchell's, that place where Bosuns comes from. After much hugging and catching up and dissecting why I am still single, it was time to seriously tuck into the wonderful array of draught they offer on tap. Actually, Hansa Marzen Gold Draught, they gave us a free glass with each one. I now have a complete set.

Anyway, getting tenuously back to the subject line heading this disasterpiece, we were eventually joined by the biggest ass-badge I have ever had the displeasure of meeting. Apparently dickshine works in the Waterfront and he thinks this bestows upon him the right to join conversations or intimate gatherings willy nilly and then to engage in a rather unenlightened game of one-upmanship. Being the nice sociable people we are, we indulged arseface for a while before he became an utter nuisance. Him buying the table a round or 2 was probably the only thing that helped us maintain our composure for as long as we did. Fuckstick even claimed the manageress as his girlfriend. She did an admirable job of keeping the vomit IN behind her thinly veiled contempt.

So. A quickly scampered exit stage left and regroup at the Meyodies' hotel. Which was a real treat. Fire n Ice has the coolest bar and setting. DO make a turn there if you're ever in the area.


Needless to say this morning was a total write off...

Anyway, back to shit-for-brains. What possesses someone to invade the privacy of others like that? Would any of you approach a random group of people and weasel your way into their company? Would you then pick arguments about which car, cell phone or qualification was better?

What an utter pillock!

Important announcement. Every one's all time favourite music and lifestyle magazine, YourLMG is celebrating their 50th issue with a knees-up of apocalyptic proportions tonight. Mercury will play host to Sabretooth, Taxi Violence and Peachy Keen. Be there!

Ok, so as promised we end off with....


...tah daaaaah!

NGDG:" Apologises for breaking your mouse and screaming 'This riff is fucking tasty!' while crowdsurfing your cubicle. It's your fault for showing me Google."




Spread The Love. With People That Know You.

Even If That Leaves Some Of You At A Distinct Disadvantage.

Happy Irreverent Friday Everyone!

Thursday, June 9, 2011

IMMORTALISING NEAL GOLDWYER




Well there's a unique take on things. As unique as the man himself, some may whisper in hushed, reverent tones...


You see dear reader, along with my eccentric pairing of ill fitting pictures to nonsensical diatribes, and the various traditions I have instigated like Irreverent Fridays, I now intend to add a quote from the gentleman in question at the end of each of my missives.


They're simply too good not to share and if you're not a friend of his on the dreaded FaceBoobs, then you will forever be bereft of his charming genius. At this point I would like to point out that I have never had the pleasure of actually meeting Neal, but am saving all my pocket money and hope one day to stand in the presence of his brilliance. Maybe he'll buy me a pint.


No, don't scroll down. I know you want to see for yourself, but first you have to read the rest.


On second thoughts, I really don't have anything of value to contribute to the general well being of humanity, so without further ado, here is the first of "Neal Goldwyer's Daily Gems".




Actually we'd better start you off by spoiling you with a couple just to get you going...


NGDG: "I had a glimpse today of how selfish kids can be. I asked a little girl, who was drawing pictures with her pencils anyway, to draw me one of a nun killing a spider with a dildo to no avail. Bloody artists."


NGDG: " Man I need to show a midget some love. Bucket list stuff. Check out Brigette the Midget."


NGDG: "Only degenerates and paedophiles use caps lock."






Spread The Love. Where's That Brigette bird?

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

HUNGOVER AND SOMETHING ELSE THAT STARTS WITH AN "H".

My friends and I once invented a cards based drinking game. It was called "Man Down" due to it's incredible efficiency. If by efficient you assume getting us all arseholed in minimum time. It goes like this.


  1. Each player gets dealt one card face down.

  2. Flip cards and the person with the lowest number on his card drinks that amount of shots. Everyone else is safe for that round.

  3. If 2 people have joint lowest, a redraw takes place, the lowest of the redraw drinking the amount of shots as indicated by number on card.

  4. Joker nominates and the drinker must drink corresponding number on the card he or she is holding irrespective of who has lowest.

It has never lasted longer than half an hour.

I feel as if I indulged in a game of "Man Down" last night.

Your LMG Pub Quiz made a storming comeback with a record attendance for the first night of the new season hosted at Mercury. Fantastically well done Mike and Kevin - and thank you! Not for the hangover, but for the great evening.
Team Burger King were worthy runners up in a hotly contested battle of wits. We won booze! To all on the team - you guys fucking rock! And from now on our default answer to any question we're unsure of is "Canada".
We MURDERED tHe MaD hAtTeRs ! ! ! !
They're, like, the new Team Papsuck.

And since we're keeping score: Black Label Draught 1 - 0 Me.
In related news: Tarty Farty Tequila Party, otherwise known as The Scribe, did some unmentionable acts of debauchery in order to get free booze. Coz that's how THIS team rolls. Sydney, you'll never be the same again.

Anyway, once again thanks to all for making it such an awesome evening. We're all taking strain today. The way it should be.

Spread The Love. At The Bar. For Drinks.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

RANDOM RAMBLING



Can you see where this is going?


Hmmm... mmmm?


Filthmonger! I was actually going to debate the ever controversial issue of copyright. Am I morally, ethically or legally allowed to use the picture above? Since it is tagged by an existing site? Does anyone care?


Would autotuned R&B even exist if so called songwriters were prohibited from "knocking off" some well known hits from an era of actual talent?... much like their "artists" probably did to the corner liquor store...


Same thing basically. It's taking what's not yours because you're a talentless thug. The real winners in this situation are the corporate entities that endorse this blatant rape of resources. Nothing is original, and if it is, we as a consumer driven generation have been brainwashed into believing it's kak by definition. Very rarely has anything genuinely new and exciting been (a) shown the light of day or (b) greeted with open arms and open minds.


So who's to blame? The public that allow themselves to be spoonfed bite size portions of second rate shit all day every day? Yeah, I think that's the answer. Be more discerning! Explore your options! Don't settle for mediocrity.


Which leads us to part 2. In a radical change of direction I propose to you that too many people on Earth are being led to believe that they are entitled to more than they're worth. Why do the average masses all believe that they can be exceptional? Surely this is a contradiction in terms? It's because the TV told them so. Now we're sitting with a jilted generation of people that believe they could have made it but for some hindrance beyond their control. Wankers.


So.

In conclusion we're a bunch of apathetic twits that allow our tastes to be decided for us by mass media and we're all fucking delusional about being extraordinary, when in fact we are simply extra ordinary.


Except me...


With any luck I will be able to claw my way from the mire and lead the great Team Burger King to victory at tonight's LMG Pub Quiz!!!


Spread The Love. And The Knowledge. Knowledge is sexy mos...


Monday, June 6, 2011

PINATA COLADA



Of birthday celebrations and all things nice.

This was my weekend.

Well, almost...

Let's go back to Thursday. Special birthday dinner with The Demonic Sibling and the Brother In Awe. They had made my favourite. Calamari for starters and steak for mains. These are my favourites generally because at any given restaurant they represent the best choices on any menu. I do love lasagne, though. Washed all this awesome food with a bottle of Raka Biography Shiraz, which is truly spectacular, and the rest is a vast-amounts-of-Grolsch haze. Thank, Tarty for getting my scandalous ass home in one piece.

Friday morning was less than pleasant.


Friday night started off like many a Friday night. By me getting home after a long week's slog in the office and tucking straight into the libations. In teenage American parlance this is known as pregaming. So along came Tarty and Lars-but-not-Least in the Zopmobile and off the three intrepid partygoers went. Mercury was hosting the annual get together of the Hogs and the Rudimentals. Opening for them were my old friends The Summer Underground. Happy days. So...

Lots of people, lots of booze, lots of noise, lots of kak talking, lots of Tarty being the life of the Party, lots of saying to hi to people that expect you to know who the fuck they are... Did I mention lots of booze. It was after all the first night of my birthday weekend...

For some or other reason I, in my drink addled state, decided very spur of the moment I'd had enough and very skillfully ninja bombed. Don't remember allegedly hugging JDP on the way out, don't remember leaving, don't remember taking a taxi home, or even getting home for that matter. Fun times...

Saturday was ANOTHER birthday party. This one was way cool though. This one had a PINATA. An adult pinata. It had little bottles of booze in it. (Quickly renamed Pinata Coladas.) It had lotto tickets and chocolates. I have never partaken in a pinata whacking ceremony before, so obviously I took over completely and led proceedings. When it was eventually my turn, I did manage to whack the crap out of the little black and white donkey (not zebra, apparently)...

There was also a massive inflatable boxing ring in the garage. With oversized boxing gloves. I love that we can afford toys...

What I didn't love was being unceremoniously deposited on my arse over the "top rope" - jumping castles are strenuous enough without a mate of yours hell bent on panelling you into submission.

Sunday was spent renewing cellphone contracts and purchasing a dishwasher. Hallelujah! I lost mine in the divorce 9 months ago. It's been a while. I can't wait to get home and switch her on and listen to the soft soothing "whirrr" of her doing her thing. Maybe one day, when I'm a real boy, I can write that about a real girl...


Anyway, this weekend is going to be my birthday party. No gimmicks. No clever decoration. No paramedics. No holds barred. No excuses. If I live through this one, I hope to be able to report on it.

Tomorrow night marks the long awaited and exalted return of the Mighty LMG Pub Quiz Night! Can I have another HALLELUJAH!!!!!

Spread The Love. Like Miracle Whip On White Bread...

Thursday, June 2, 2011

B I R T H D A Y B L O G ! ! !



Ja. So. Let's hope today goes better than the almightily gigantic rancid ass-burger of a day that yesterday served up...


You see, today's my birthday.


It didn't start well, mind you. Today was literally the first time in my life I've woken up alone in an empty house on my birthday. No "Happy Birthday!" being yelled. No breakfast in bed. No pressies to eagerly unwrap in bed. No quick birthday blowjob before work...


Anyway, yesterday then...


I went to go buy electricity for my prepaid meter at home, seeing as I had just enough left to last through band practice. Now I am a generally laid back and patient kinda cat, but motherfucker come on! 40 minutes! FORTY fucking minutes! Only to be directed by the good people operating the call centre at The City Of Cape Town to try a different vendor. Thank fuck that worked.


Then I went to draw nog geld. The ATM informed me, and I quote, "We cannot process your request due to a technical problem, please try again later." Now this is distinctly different to "You're a doos and you don't make enough money" which I have seen on many occasions. So I calmly retrieve my card and try another ATM. Which promptly informs me that I now have fuck all money in that account. Cue near homicidal call to the "helpline"...


Anyway all that was sorted out IN the bank ON my lunch hour ON my birthday. Still. Better than yesterday.


On the infinitely more pleasant side, I have received a gasquillion messages and calls and whatnot from all my friends and family today. Thank you all, you've made a happy man feel very old. Even Vodacom and various other institutions sent me "happy birthday dumbass, we're grateful for your entire paycheck every month, keep em coming" messages.


Tonight I dine in fine style at the home of the Demonic Sibling and the Brother In Awe. Joined by some other friends, it promises to be a feast and an unforgettable night. Plus I'm being driven to and fro like Lord Fauntleroy!


Also to my "Twinzie" and my "DrHellCuz", who are both lucky enough to share this special day with me, Happy Birthday Mother Bitches!. Or to quote an equally famous movie, "Happy Ass-Day Fuck-Mo!"


So. Spread The Love. Someone Come And Take Me Out For Coffee. (Failing that, access to a time machine and that before-work-birthday-bj please.)