Friday, March 16, 2012


I have it. In abundance. Or rather, I have an incredibly low tolerance level for anything related to stupidity, be it displayed by my fellow road users or anyone else. Anywhere.

I'm usually the epitome of laid back, so getting riled up while driving along and being considerate and listening to my flawless selection of music is even more upsetting. I get befuck because I allow these wankers to make me befuck. Yes, I know it's a knee jerk reaction, but what I wouldn't give for a more relaxed attitude to it or having the dumbasses simply removed...

Yesterday - at a 4 way STOP, I allowed the person and/or persons that had reached aforementioned STOP before me to cross the intersection before me. When my turn came around to go, Mr Blithely Unaware in his big ol' Land Rover just pulled out in front of me although I was more than halfway across already. When I subtly pointed out that he may be in the wrong - with a polite little parp of my hooter - I was dismayed to see a right arm extend itself out of the driver's window and courteously offer me the most well known of gestures, a middle finger. I really hope he heard my rather less than gently offered suggestion that he fuck himself.

Then there was the dickhead this morning who cut me off with what resembled malicious intent as I tried to enter a multi lane highway. Guess what moustachio-man was driving... and I mutter this utterance with as much disgust as I can muster... a flippin' Hyundai... Urgh.

The rubbish lorry this morning that saw me coming and insisted on blocking my ONLY option because it couldn't wait a whole 3 seconds also got a gentle verbal ribbing. I think they were genuinely affronted that I could out potty-mouth them.

And then all the trials and tribulations of the road evaporated away like the aroma of a used toilet freshener. I bought my Fetish tickets. One of the most iconic and loved bands, and I daresay my all time favourite, to come from our humble little country are playing a re-union gig in Cape Town at Mercury on Friday the 13th of April. If you have yet to experience the sultry, seductive, ethereally unreal and eternally introspective Michelle Breeze along with her band of musical magicians, then this is your one and only chance to partake in a slice of South African music legend. If you were around in those days and happened to fall for the mesmerising musings of this lot, than I am sure I will see you there. It promises to be a night of soaring, sweet nostalgia and bleak, blistered beauty.

Not to be outdone, and certainly never to be outshone, Shannon Hope stages 2 shows at the Fugard Theatre... a week later. I have seen here perform her bruised brand of heartwarming, heartfelt genuine genius there and it is as captivating a show as you're likely to experience. You know you want to.

So, having made it this far on a Friday - almost there. The woes of the week are fading into the rear view mirror and I'm looking forward to a weekend of chilling. Ja, I know I say that most weekends, but this time I mean it. I'm still recovering from the beating Ramfest dealt me and I am in desperate need of a holiday. Tonight we housewarm the charming little cottage of the inimitable Tarty Farty Tequila Party. I wonder just exactly how chilled that's going to turn out...

And tomorrow is St Paddy's day. "A pint of the black stuff please, landlord..."


NGDG: "Shocking statistics reveal that fewer than 28% of children under 8 know the telephone number of their local emergency services. Coincidentally, that's about the same percentage of children who believe that vans contain candy."

Spread The Love. 25 Whores In The Room Next Door.

No comments:

Post a Comment