Friday, June 8, 2012


Can't remember where this pic is from. Probably Occupy Bacon or something.

I am a self confessed, self absorbed narcissistic arsehole at the best of times. Anyone who knows me will vouch for this. I have worked very hard at it and am excessively proud of the results. But some of these absolute wanktards on Faeceboobs really take the cake. Everyone wants to make out as if they're harder, faster, smoother or more of a dickhead - with harsher opinions than the next one.

These sentiments I feel are best summed up by Messrs Blom, Swift and James
"Fuck, you. Fuck you, you fuck."
"Why can't we be friends? Why can't we be friends?"

This has nothing to do with anything.

Except maybe to introduce you to this. This is the greatest local music video you are likely to see. For a long time. Or ever. Click on THECOOLESTVIDEOYOU'LLSEETODAY for lots of fun sexy times.

It's Friday. It's raining. Again. My life, however, is not at an end. It's time to get your irreverence on and wear it like pants on your head. What are you lot getting up to this weekend? I know what I'm doing... being the social butterfly -between all sorts of secret sauce and pretending to be a gangster from 80 years ago. Personally I think the last one is a totally kak idea. From what I can remember from Bugsy Malone, it's going to be particularly uncomfortable standing around in a bar re-enacting prohibition...

At least we'll have something to celebrate. With any luck the English rugger team will all get simultaneous ankle injuries or food poisoning. They have a distinct advantage over us. See my comments on the weather above. Also, playing against a provincial team is less challenging. Except for the front row, who all happen to be from their own franchise as well. Can you imagine readying yourself to scrum down against the Beast? (Not a reference to my own foreplay.) I'd kak myself. (Again, not a reference to my foreplay.) It must be like looking at impending doom head on with someone's forearm reaching under your crotch. (Jees, there rugby guys really know how to have fun...)

All this grabbing each other around the waist at high speed, free style grappling each other in a little heap, lifting each other around the thighs to catch balls, running after one another, pushing up against the other men from the back with a grunting team effort, and something very suggestively referred to as the "sin bin"... it's no wonder the Blue Bulls opted for their away strip colours.

Luckily the average plastic scrotum Toyota Hilux accessory owning rugby fan will probably never have the intellectual capacity to find out where I live.

Anyway, it's Friday. Enjoy the Euro Football starting tonight. I won't. Fuck SABC and ETV. Spend a gazillion of my tax dollars on securing fucking away games that Bafana Bafana are going to lose anyway, but can't buy a few European Championship matches. Wankers.

And a HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Commander Conker! You'll remember him. He tried to kill me on several occasions. Click the link if you like stories of excruciating torture and near death experiences...

NGDG: "When I was a kid I had a compilation CD of driving rock, with Golden Earring, Spin Doctors, Toto and the like. It's time I compiled a new one, starting with Suicide Silence's 'Bludgeoned To Death'. "

Spread The Love. It Isn't Always On Time. Thanks Neal...

1 comment:

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