Tuesday, February 26, 2013

BLOWJOB - YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG



"You missed me, bitch!" said Eddie Murphy to his mother in 'Delirious'. How was your day yesterday, folks?
Devoid of all humour, good taste and general malarkey? I apologise for my absence, but sometime even I have to work. It's that time of the year again...

And speaking of that time of the year again. Today is a very special day for 2 very special boys. Please join me in wishing an extra special birthday to the ever grumpy Lord Doom and the ever effervescent Tina Sex. I think my pseudonyms rock. I don't care if you get them or not. Anyway lads, hope you have awesome birthdays. Tonight I shall raise a glass.

As I vacuum. Because real men clean their own houses. It's a very manly endeavour. Especially when the man in question refuses flat out to get a maid in every so often. I don't think I will ever be able to have one. Never mind the obscene situation with the family maid growing up, but I also have far too many irreplaceable things like guitars, etc that no one is allowed near - and if accidentally damaged, would cause a media furore based around my murder trial. Sorry, "Domestic Executive"...

You may ask yourself (in your best David Byrne impression) what am I doing here? The answer is simple. You exist to feed those above you on the Totem Pole of life and to feed off those below. It is the universal truth. It takes exceptional morality to try and reverse this or even staunch it slightly. Such is your station. My advice is to make the most of it. Try and play Felix The Cat (Hippo scene, hippo scene! Do you know NOTHING?) more often to those peering down. And try being of service to those less fortunate a little more often as well. Unfortunately you can't be the good Samaritan all the time. In a very ill advised move, I once decided to change my life motto to "Never ignore an opportunity to help another" or something like that. It very quickly became apparent that the only way that would work is if I were a logger in a cabin in the mountains living the life of a vegan hermit. By the second red light I was skint!

In some sad news, we are bereft of one TDB for the next 10 days. He is away on business in The Big Shitty and has no cell reception where he's holed up. Which puts paid to 2 things. Doom practice and his girlfriend's sanity. MeSwifty, how about dinner - I'll set it up.

Anyway, about my awesome weekend! Here's the official report. I think I may just have died and gone to heaven. The Hot Girlfriend, who refuses to be abbreviated, treated me to one of the most gloriously memorable weekends of my entire existence  We went away to Riebeek Wes for her friends' wedding. It's a quaint little town, typical of so many in our fair land. One street called Kerk and one street called Hoof. There's a Stax Video, a hair dresser, a hardware store, an estate agent (every town has one now), a massive Post Office and a Dutch Reformed Church that dwarfs all of the other buildings. It is crammed with friendly folk and bad fashion. The guest house she booked was incredible. I was expecting a neat little room somewhere. Oh no! Instead we got this stand alone, palatial suite. It even had its own back yard patio and braai area. Not to mention the marble topped kitchen and king size bed.

It also featured a welcoming committee in the form of 4 dogs, all of whom were immediately renamed upon meeting them. My favourite was the rehabilitated ex-fighting pit-staffie-mixed breed with the buggered leg, Skidder. For an animal that was found left in a field to die, he certainly has a rosy outlook on life. A friendlier pooch you could not hope to find. Neus was also very friendly. Between the 2 of them they ensured my shins and calves were well moisturised.

The wedding was held at a farm called Groenrivier Estate. It appears to have been converted especially to cater for functions. It has horses in white fenced paddocks, probably only for show, but it's impressive nonetheless. The ceremony and reception were tasteful and emotional. Tasteful, until they started cranking the Sokkie Treffers once the formalities were taken care of. Thankfully I wasn't expected to "skud my biscuit" along with the more seasoned lang-arm pros. I did take The Hot Girlfriend on a circuit or 2 of the dance floor,  but am ashamed to say that I have lost most of the cavalier Fred Astaire-ness that was evident in my devil-may-care youth. But none of that mattered. I was secretly beaming away. You know how the ladies sometimes dress down (or like large meringue arrangements) to make the bride stand out as the most beautiful on her special day? No such luck for this poor bride, who incidentally looked stunning. It's just the my girlfriend looked better. Ha! I win! At life!

The next day, after a prolonged lie in, and getting decadently spoiled, I enjoyed a tremendous brekkie on the patio, before a stroll through the town. We saw a man in a Rammstein tshirt and were thoroughly perplexed until it transpired he was looking for an open shop. Clearly a foreigner. We popped in at the local craft market and family day, bought some cheese and enjoyed an ice-cream while being aurally assaulted by the live Krismis Wurm music, and took a leisurely drive home. But that's not where the fun ended. Oh no! Sunday evening's meal (and company) were kindly sponsored by the darling duo TDB and MeSwifty - thank you! Saints Burgers - awesome.

Anyway, since you've probably been done pooping for quite some time now and have developed a numb arse, I shall let you get on with your lives. Adios.

NGDG: Considering a holiday to France? I hear the blood transfusion clinics are 'totes amaze-ball'.

Spread The Love. Do It Right.

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