Friday, November 29, 2013


I went to Clifton yesterday after work. With The Hot Girlfriend. We played beach bat and lazed in the sun. What did you do? My life, eh?

Then it was off to the home of the Brother-In-Awe and the Better Half Of The DSW for a fish-flavoured dinner club. Never has something from the ocean tasted so good! Coupled with copious amounts of booze and frivolity, a grand ol' time was had by all. If only I didn't feel all Kraken-inversed right now... You know, instead of me having eaten the calamari starter, I feel like I got swallowed whole by some tentacled beast from the deep. Like that Japanese Tentacle Porn I wrote about some time ago...

Interesting times.

We live in a Chinese proverb. And I'm not talking about the crumby fortunes we endure.

So everyone's talking about it. The big march! Never before has it been so evident that the masses are being manipulated for political gain than now. The so-called leaders of the Informal Settlements Housing Something Or Other yesterday announced to a hall full of would be looters that there would be no march. Must have come as quite a shock to those born between February and April. Anyway, it transpires that our likely lads are still out on bail for flinging pooh and that participation in an illegal march would contravene the conditions of such. So much for defending the poor and standing up against the indignities they suffer. I truly feel for the disenfranchised. It is no secret that we have a disproportionate amount of downtrodden in a land that is struggling to heal itself post the inhumanities of the past. It is however, mystifying how those in power haven't been publicly lynched for their crimes. I don't buy the "keep 'em dumb" schlock anymore. It's presumptuous and condescending. Desperate people will resort to desperate measures when their cries fall on deaf, unsympathetic ears. Put yourself in their position. Just don't chuck shit all over the place. That's counterproductive, as our mates Andili Lili and Loyiso Nkohla have just found out. Yeah, boomerang pooh, what a terrifying concept!

Today, I once more bestride the football pitch! Them old bones have some vigour in them yet. After which I think a nice quiet night in with the Hot Girlfriend and a date with a tube of Deep Heat are called for. Later on this weekend I get sucked back into the soulless vortex that is Tableau Voi so I need to keep up my strength...

But the most fun is reserved for the Bachelor's Party I'm going to attend tomorrow. I can't go into details, but don't worry, it's not one of those "what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas scenarios" - I just don't want to spoil the surprise... 

And speaking of all things "so hot right now..." (thank you, Mugatu) Lamb Of God's much anticipated Cape Town debut has been moved to the indoor venue of Cape Town City Hall from the sprawling outdoor Hillcrest Quarry. This means, in the height of Cape Town's summer, that it's going to be kinda smelly. Unless you take advantage of the lovely executive boxes available at a very decent price (and the fact that you're a lazy no-good deadbeat who hasn't paid for a ticket yet). Get some mates together, and for far less per head than I have already paid, you can swan away the evening in sophisticated decadence - they'll even provide you and your guests with your own exclusive waiter! Go on! Make a memory!

NGDG: The old crone who bequeathed Chairmanship to me is still nestled in her poky flat like the busybody Mubarak supporter she is. I phone a plumber. She tells him to come back tomorrow. Then tells the gardener not to let him in when he does, just to spite the managing agent. Then says she 'have call ay nuthah playmer." I swear I'd start my own Tahrir revolution but I'm too pretty for jail.

Spread The Love. Like Sunscreen. On A Hot Ass.

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