Good afternoon. This is your Captain speaking. (No, don't get up on your desk... yet.)
The weather forecast is sunny, balmy and the reason we're already being inundated with unwanted foreigners. Welcome to
Our descent into lazy days of cocktails, sun and fun on the beaches should be nice n easy. So please, put your chairs into the upright position and get out of the toilet. The mile high club is so last year!
And here we are. The end of the year ennui has set in - even for those of you on deadlines. But we need to keep up the charade. Oh, to be Capetonion. Perhaps we could start embracing the influx of unwelcome revellers. Bet that would creep them out. Already every morning on the way to work I am noticing the increased number of GP plated cars in my way. Traffic was supposed to have subsided by now. I mean, really! 18 minutes to work instead of 16! The nerve of some parts of the population!
You're probably wondering where I've been. Lazy. That's where I've been. Also, I haven't done anything newsworthy (not that that has ever stopped me from blathering on about any old rubbish before...) Let's see. I went to a pub to watch a football game. And I went to an engagement braai where I was told what a beautiful smile I have just after chipping a tooth on a ciabatta. Yes I know. It's like goldy and bronzy, only it's made of iron. There have also been band practices (surprise, surprise) and week night visits from the Hot Girlfriend.
I'm still nursing a damaged rib so I'm still a grumpy bastard and football will have to wait another week. Not to mention the running. Oh how I miss the running. The elegant affair that it is. All that huffing and puffing and glowing red - just so that the now legendary boep can get toned into hardened protruding glory! It's gonna be a shirts off summer!
I even have a handle on my Christmas shopping already. Soon the entire planet will get everything online, without the pleasant experience of scrumming through a horde of germ-spewing mouth breathers and dealing with a culture of "buzz for a supervisor from Jupiter to waddle over and enter a 3 digit code because people are under no circumstances allowed any responsibility whatsoever" at every till in the country.
I also won a bet that earned me a nice long foot massage. I love always being right. I lie - I am not always right. I am often reminded of the one time I lost a bet and had to cough up to buy the victor a six pack of Guinness. The one time!
And as always, exciting things are on the horizon. This weekend, the intrepid Tarty Farty Tequila Party and my good self are off for a spot of wine tasting aboard our gee-gees in Stellenbosch. I'm sure watching Tarty quaff award winning wine in the sun and trying to stay roughly on her trusty steed will provide more than one moment of hilarity. And speaking of noble steeds, we are also planning on going to an Arabian stud farm in Albertinia next weekend for a Stallion showing, some potjiekos, and blues courtesy of Gerald Clark.
Fuck. My. Life.
There is even a wedding before Christmas. How will I manage?
NGDG: I'm going to improve your day instantly. All I need from you is to read one sentence. Ok? Righty then. Go: Bill Murray signs-on, so production of Ghostbusters 3 is confirmed.
Spread The Love. Like When You Talk Foreign.
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