Thursday, May 29, 2014


Ball skills never looked so good...

We're now firmly in the grip of World Cup Fever, so here is a video for you, my faithful and fantastic readers. It celebrates everything in life that is worth celebrating. It puts into perspective what's really important in life. It's also a little NSFW. Enjoy!
Let's just hope that the poor in Brazil do not suffer the same consequences as those suffered by their South African counterparts.

And - speaking of local heritage -  now we will take a silly, and often very laboured look at idioms that take on entirely new meanings in Benoni:

  • Your goose is cooked = Your girlfriend is crazy.
  • A pitcher is worth a thousand words = Tequila makes you talkative.
  • Eager beaver = Overzealous slapper.
  • Keep your nose clean = Check for residual blow before exiting the tawlet.
  • Necessity is the mother of invention = WHAT you say about my mother, boet?
  • Spanner in the works = Mah cousin is gainfully employed.
  • Walk a mile in my shoes = Some doos stole my shoes and is already 1.6km away.
  • You scratch my back, I'll comb yours = Self explanatory.
  • And my perennial favourite, Tune the radio = Howzit, Radio!

So Oppikoppi has announced that Wolfmother will be playing the festival this year. Naturally, knowing how big a fan my sister is, I waste no time hopping onto Skype and letting her know. Her simple response? "Fuck me", to which I immediately reply "If you incest".. Bada!Dssssh!

Yes, I know...

Anyway, on to the news section of this pitifully pathetic post. Last night the fruits of my labour didn't illicit as much uncontrollable laughter as I'd anticipated. You see, I have such an awful singing voice - and haven't EVER hit a note - that I am actually banned from a microphone in my own studio. Which sometimes presents a bit of a problem, since I do the lion's share of writing and arranging lyrics for the majority of the bands I'm in. It also leads to a lot of embarrassing encounters with vocalists who can barely contain themselves when I 'present' my vision. Usually I go through the pieces in installments, one verse or chorus at a time. However, the last work that I completed required me to record the entire song so that I could show the rest of the band at the next band practice. So now the evidence is preserved. I was dreading the playback, but at least TDB had the good manners not to burst out into maniacal mirth, a courtesy not extended to me by the ever honest Rose Thorn. After wiping away their tears, though, it was agreed that I'd "done good" and now I can't wait until we get it into an acceptable format to ship off to our vocalist, who has forsaken us for the greyer pastures of The Big Shitty.

Anyway, seeing as I am about to embark on my annual attempt to avoid death by alcohol poisoning, usually known as the 'Malcoholocaust', I might as well bid you adieu for the week. Tonight the 5 day back-to-back partying starts with a nice warm up - a civilised dinner with Rose Thorn, Commander Conker, my Brother-In-Awe and the better half of the DSW. Fun times. I probably won't be in the mood (or shape) to report tomorrow.

So. To everyone reading this, one last little thing. I know a lot of you don't check your Facebook invites, but please go and see if you've cracked the nod to be invited to my birthday party. It's a big deal this year and I've invited a lot of people I'd like to help me celebrate this milestone. If you can't find your invite, suck it.

If there is anything left of me next week, I may attempt a bleary eyed online appearance.

NGDG: As grateful as I am that Joburg Water has sent guys to fix the collapsing road, I wouldn't wish the job of being knee-deep in sewage, in the cold, in the dark, on my worst enemy. And not just because I wish on my enemies a permanently lit room with Cannibal Corpse playing incessantly at 200db and with no chance ever again of gainful employment, a pot to piss in or access to even cholera-fouled water.

Spread The Love. For All Things Brazilian!

No comments:

Post a Comment