Pic by Andrey Razoomovsky - used without permission.
Couldn't get hold of him.
Congratulate me! Or rather, congratulate the Hot Girlfriend, who has now officially managed to put up with my shit and my schedule for exactly a year. And a day, if you're feeling pedantic. Yes folks, yesterday was our official one year anniversary and day on which it was completely excusable to make squishey, sickening declarations of affection to each other in public.
Which we already did on Sunday when we drove to Hout Bay for ice cream.
And then we stayed in yesterday. Much bubbly, flowers, and chatting was the prelude to the romantic candlelit dinner which awaited us. I did the cooking, but it was well worth it. Bring on the mind bending bottle of fine wine and the evening was a roaring success. Happy daze indeed! And it keeps getting better. Evidence that she has a very open sense of humour and a tether without end. Happy anniversary, lovie!
A few days before all the lovie-dovey schmaltz that went down yesterday, we had a braai at my house for all the members of the White Flip Flop Brigade, otherwise known as the officially recognised aficionados of Doom Metal. We gathered so that we could all watch the footage of the Symphonaire Infernus show we did in April. Clearly speed or urgency are not very important commodities in the land of the Flip Flop. We braaied and debated and listened to classic Doom albums and drank enough to resubmerge the Titanic. I know, I had to clear the glass and can debris the next day. Anyway, yet another roaring success and a lot of fun.
Tonight I have a work function. And by that I mean the office is being taken to some fancy ass restaurant in the Waterfront by one of the bigwigs from our London office - whoohooo!
I've decided to go dressed as a funeral Viking. I wonder how he'll respond...
So. It's been a glorious few days, and I have every reason to be sitting here with my face split in 2 and my pearly whites near blinding my colleague. That is of course, until you take stock of the world around you and realise that everything is fucked. The politicos are making full use of the travesties perpetrated in our land and the daily struggle of life at the bottom of the food chain to perpetuate their own agendas. No surprises there, but it is actually disgraceful. Heynke Meyer is raising the question of whether or nor P Div should have been left in charge. Personally I think they should just have paid P Div to assume a figurehead appointment, paid Jake White to do the real coaching in closed sessions and paid Ryan Seacrest to be the offical coaching staff spokeswanker - as long as he promised to represent the cross section of franchises selected and wear a pink outfit.
However. The surest sign that we are in fact at the End Of Days is that DrHellCuz has allowed a woman into his life. Not only has he gone back on the founding principle of a burning hatred for EVERYONE, but he even allowed that shit to go all FaceBoobs official. Oh how the mighty have fallen! (Says he who is smooching his girlfriend online for all to see...)
NGDG: Folks who complain about poor spelling on the internet should be grateful that wonderful words of olde haven't had a resurgence of popularity, like moreish and comely.
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