Wednesday, April 16, 2014


Grease nipples. Hard to find...

So, here I sit on the short week leading to Easter. According to the internets, no one wants to be at work. I know I don't. But then how is this state of affairs any different to any other time of year? Have we become so accustomed to our annual "long weekend bonanza break"? I look forward to it, not for the break from the airconditioned office or the fact that I work in "civvies", but for the break in relentless internet fed news awareness.

Yes folks, I am that cheap that I don't have the internet at home. I have it on my phone, but so far have avoided using it too much. Cobble together the fact that I have no restrictions on my 9-5 work internet, I have no need to download anything - ever - it's piracy (besides I contribute to rampant crime every now and then by getting the odd series or movie from friends), and the fact that I would rather stick an HB pencil in my jugular or eat my own offspring before I indulged in "gaming", and you'll understand why not being online outside of work doesn't frighten me in the least. So I get a long, deserved break from all the pointless hot air of the English Premiere Soap Opera and the farcical so-called "trial of the century". I also get to avoid all the seemingly intelligent people who can't help but follow this shit. Trial by media is nothing more than a glorious opportunity for the average Joe to betray his bloodlust and mob mentality. Why can't we just allow the law, such as it is - the protagonist with the most expensive and innovative legal team ALWAYS prevails - to run its course.

Which brings me to what I got up to over the weekend. Other than gloriously and graceful getting stuck in the netting and spraining my big toe at football on Friday night, it was great. Well, the toe and the bus ride from Hell on Saturday. I have never enjoyed public transport and were it not for the drinking and driving laws (and obviously the dire consequences of doing such a stupid thing), I would never set foot or bum in a bus or a train. Enter MyCitiBus... Clean. Efficient. Convenient.
If only it was an exclusive service and not open to the smelly masses.
It took me 2 hours to get to Tableau Voi, where I was headed to The Hot Girlfriend's place for a braai with her folks. 2 Hours? Of which I was forced to stand more than half the way! And as soon as I got to sit, I was enveloped by a person whose barely believable ability to get through the bus doors was eclipsed only by her opinion that regular sized chairs were designed to accommodate her sweaty enormity. And the occasion small planet...
I realise that even talking about the obese among us is taboo, but I'm willing to take any and all abuse in this truly exceptional case.
But it was all made better by the time I opened that first beer. And then the mood barometer swung heavily into positive territory when I was served a perfectly braaied hunk of rump the size of an inordinately thick duvet.
In other news, I was asked (dared...) to write a guest post for the inimitable Mr Anton Marshall's blog. Quite an honour in my book, so I jumped at the chance, completely misunderstood the brief, got completely carried away with my own self-absorbed agenda, and got published anyway!

Also, last night I wrote some songs with my newly official guitar co-conspirator. Teapot, this is not the end.

And on that rather pointless note, I bid you all adieu. Until tomorrow. Maybe. I don't know if I have the strength or inclination to go back and proof this damn nonsense, so if you find any errors, please feel free to shame me publicly. After all, newts are notoriously clumsy spellers.

NGDG: Toothpaste is the best hangover cure.

Spread The Love. Get Your Tongue IN There!

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