Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Monday, November 28, 2011
Friday, November 25, 2011
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
As you are all no doubt aware, those of you not living under a rock, a bridge or a tunnel, it is Mo'vember, a month dedicated to cultivating a lush outcrop of facial hair on one's upper lip. This practice is in aid of raising awareness of prostate and testicular cancer, raise money for the combat or treatment thereof, and should be restricted to men.
As men around the globe sport a snorr-gasbord of variety on this theme under their very noses, I have unfortunately been forced to bail out of the idea. I thought I could cheat and just stop shaving, and trust me, this idea was met with wild enthusiasm. I hate shaving and am infinitely grateful for a job that doesn't insist on me being well presented. So I let myself go and used the excuse "I'm growing a moustache, but I'm also growing a beard at the same time". You see, for those of you that don't know me personally (thank your lucky stars) I am blonde to the point of inflicting arc-eyes on anyone in my general vicinity. This poses a problem when one is faced with the prospect of a moustache sans accompanying beard. Simply put, I look like a kid who's just gulped down all the milk. Or a Swedish paedophile. Neither is a good look for me and with my already dangerous levels of narcissism, this is obviously not going to fly. So when the whole Santa Claus thing got a bit much the other day and I started getting the whole "scruffy itchy" I decided, "ah fuck it, lemme shave the beard off and see how bad it's gonna look".
I last had a moustache in the army. Everyone laughed then as well.
I felt almost embarrassed. I laughed so hard at this blonde moustachioed idiot in the mirror, I just couldn't breathe after a while. Thank all that is holy I wasn't required to go out in public to attend to some sudden emergency! To make matters worse, the laughing turned me an alarming fire engine red, making the already luminescent white paedo-stache look even more milky-way maniacal by way of added contrast. Like a slash of Tippex on a ripe tomato...
It didn't last long. As soon as I stopped convulsing with laughter and my hand was steady enough, it was unceremoniously sheared. Until next year.
The entire point of this exercise, though, is to encourage us men to go and have ourselves checked out. Now, I don't know about you, but when the school nurse "checked you for a hernia" and instructed you to cough, I felt utterly violated and couldn't wait to get my school issue navy blue underpants back to their rightful place, covering my privates. Similarly, the physical in the army was equally invasive and holds no fond memories. So booking myself in for some Cuba-educated "doctor" to inspect my balls doesn't fill me with elation. Don't even get me started on the prostate and the only available avenue of exploration... I can just hear the rubber glove snapping against a wrist - the stuff nightmares are made of!
I wonder if I can convince my girlfriend to study nursing, so she can inspect the collection of dangly bits for insidious lumps. Voila! Problem solved. Actually 2 birds. She'll get the outfit as well. I must make a mental note to discuss this with her.
On second thoughts it's a kak idea. These days all they teach is toyi-toying and basic healthcare neglect.
NGDG: "This is gonna sound totally Hipster but: I feel so superior to all the Johnny-come-latelys. Man! I hated the ANC when they were still underground."
Spread The Love. Check Each Other For Cancer.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Sunday, November 20, 2011
In the mornings as I drive to work (and this will show you just what a creature of routine I really am) I pass a woman running up towards High Level Road. Every morning. At about the same spot. With her iPod plugged in. In slippers. I shit you not. In freakin' slippers. Of the floppy moccasin variety. Proper jogging, at pace, up one of the most gruelling inclines known to man. Without stopping to take in the view or hack up a lung. In.her.slippers...
Then, when I get to work, among the sites I have to check out as part of my morning routine, you will find a hilarious collection of Texts From Last Night. Today's favourite is : "She made a roadhead CD. Can I marry her?"
Claudia Mohr. Saturday evening. The Fugard Theatre. Sensational. To witness a bunch of musicians of such calibre enjoying themselves so much and royally entertaining us all at the same time was a truly wonderful experience. Claudia's songs are well written and intelligent. They hit the right notes (both musically and existentially) at the right times. Her band is a collection of eclectic and excellent musos that add just as much to proceedings as Claudia herself.
Charles Knighton-Pullin (of Sabretooth fame) on lead guitar (in tasseled leather pants) is also responsible for the musical direction of this project and in doing so has established himself as not only the virtuoso guitarist we all know him to be, but also multi-talented musical master. Kyle Gray (of Fox Comet and Witness To Wolves) lends his own particular energy to this sublime set of songs, a drummer with boundless enthusiasm and a remarkable and uniquely talented individual. Nick Catto (also of Fox Comet) slyly gets on with the business of keeping it all stitched together with a beautifully understated and brilliant ease, peering at the audience from behind a mischievous grin. The back up divas add spice and sass to the show and the special guests on percussion and vocals certainly were the cherry on top of an amazing evening's entertainment. In a rare moment of forgetting they were from Cape Town, the audience even stood up from their chairs, clapping and boogieing along, some even getting down in the aisles! The set closer 'African Hello' (before the inevitable encore) was a song of such obvious single potential, I'd be surprised if Claudia Mohr isn't a household name shortly. Watch out for this incredibly talented singer/songwriter. THIS is what local musicians should be striving for. Never mind the bollocks... in the parlance of the 'biz.
Another thing that made my weekend was seeing a truly unique football goal scoring celebration. The Clever Boys were playing The Buccaneers (Wits University vs Orlando Pirates) in a David vs Goliath clash this weekend, Pirates being the overwhelming favourites and one of the biggest - if not THE biggest - glamour clubs in our Premiere League. Ryan Chapman scored a brace in the second half to seal the 3 - 1 win for the Clever Boys and in celebrating his goals, ran over to the fans, made the arms crossed in an "X" (which signifies "Pirates for life!") and then tore the sign apart by flinging his arms to the side. Brilliant!So. Monday it is then. Traditionally I moan. I suppose I can complain about the Aussies looking like they are on their way to a test victory, but given the history of this game, I think I'll harbour secret hopes...
NGDG: "I haven't the vaguest idea what I get up to after lights out. Though the sheets be crisp, the pillows plump and the room conducive to rest, nocturnal crime-fighting, unconscious witching-hour-origami or sleep paso doble, will ensure I probably feel like a zombie regardless."
Spread The Love. Mainly Because I Like Four Letter Words.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Ja so, what did you all get up to this weekend? I DIDN'T watch cricket. Ticket holders for Saturday and Sunday at Newlands must have been pissed off.
I DID see a lot of ol' Juju Malemalemalemalemalema on the telly. Interested to see what comes of all this. Right now my money is on apathy winning the day and some form of partial reinstatement of privileges, if not power.
There really wasn't much more newsworthy, was there?
I did spend an inordinate amount of time on the sleeper couch watching classic movies. With my nice spanking new girlfriend. For those of you still in the dark, I now once again have a better half. I know this because it has finally been made FaeceBoobs official. Which is important. In this day and age one must always let everyone know. "Hi Honey!"
Onto things domestic. My eternal quest for Martha-like Biggie Best perfection has moved beyond the confines of my home and out into the "garden". And by garden, I mean plant boxes I built on either side of the braai. I have planted all sorts of fancy herbs and stuff (well, fancy in my humble book) and they're actually growing! I'm temporarily changing the name of the quest so I can dub myself Keith Kirsten. I can't find the floppy towelling hat anywhere, but hey, it's only temporary.
On the bright side, I have a new shirt.
And to go with my new shirt, here is a short list of requests to the Universe in general:
- Please stop posting pictures of animal abuse. Whilst I am sympathetic to the plight of these poor animals to the point of choosing products that do not indulge in such cruel activities and also being active in animal welfare, I do not want to see these pictures. They upset me no fucking end. You're preaching to the choir as it is only your friends list that see what you post. I would assume that by virtue of the fact that these people are your "friends" they would feel the same or at least be aware of these atrocities. Rather put your money where your "share" button is.
- Please can we have this weather in Cape Town for the next 6 months. Thanks.
- Please can I get to grips with the new song without losing my mind or a finger in an unfortunate "tangling" accident.
- Please can the world's economy be run by capable people that aren't driven by all-consuming avarice.
- For that matter can "civil service" return to its original purpose.
- Please can those people that choose to harangue on about how kak religion is keep it to themselves. For the exact same reason you so abhor the "pro" argument, there is equally no place for the "con" argument. It's personal choice for a lot of people and you aren't proving how clever you are by constantly knocking it. Let people be. As you expect them to leave you alone. Lead by example.
- Winning numbers for the Lotto please. And this time make it the correct week as well. REALLY fucking funny last time!
- Please smite down everyone who overuses currently popular words. I can't type them here for fear of being smote. Much like "No one is to stone anyone until I blow this whistle! Even if they DO say Jehovah!"
- Please bring down booze prices. If not all, then I'd be happy with beer, wine, whisky and vodka.
- Please let me figure out a way to lose the boep and while I'm at it get some kick ass muscles without any physical strain.
- Please let me never again need an awkward pooh at work.
- Please can I have a pony for Christmas.
I think that about does it for today's wishlist...
NGDG: "Maybe Berlusconi, Papandreou and Malema will join forces and establish a new political organisation. They can all it The Lemon Party."
Spread The Love. Monogamously.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Welcome to your weekly (weakly?) dose of irreverence. My humblest apologies to the 3 entire people on the planet that missed me yesterday. It was a disaster! I had to work. I tell you, I don't know what the world is coming to.
Ok. I'm totally lying. I was engrossed in the most enthralling game of cricket ever. Well, in the last century at any rate. Jeesh, what drama! And smashed just about every negative record as well. Who said cricket was boring? And then we wrapped it up with aplomb this morning. I particularly like all the very civil and polite handshaking and butt patting afterwards, when you know they're going to disappear into their changing room and be like "Ja! Fuck you, you fucking Aussies! We 'wys'ed you your ma se ding! Whaaaalah!"
Anyway. Tonight sees an interesting event at the Jolly Roger. The band with the coolest name in South Africa, Sex Cauldron, are playing a set of what is, according to reports, some nice sleazy, sludgy, smug sex-rock. And speaking of all things rock 'n' roll, Ramfest has released pricing for their different shows around the country. Cape Town will set you back a very well spent R350, considering you get In Flames and some top local acts in the package. Cue the hordes of spoilt, lazy, good-for-nothing loser wank-fest students to complain at length. To the detractors: Please! Please! Please! Do not buy a ticket. There are more than enough people who want to. And I can only afford mine at the end of the month, as I have a bond and a life. Then rub one out and take along hard look at your sex life and the non-existent options with which to improve it. kthnxbye.
And on that irreverent note, let's look in on Reverend Irreverent
NGDG: "Is Census 2012 over then? I wasn't counted. Guess that gives me a few hours' grace to get to the border when President Malema orders the massacre of the whiteys."
Spread The Love. Make Sure To Stretch Before Using Any Heavy Machinery.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Monday, November 7, 2011
Friday, November 4, 2011
They were cool. I survived.