CHOOSE LIFE

She's lost control again...

Death. It's to final. So terminal.

Today we say goodbye to one of music's most enduring and endearing darlings. Donna Summer, may you rest in peace. She passed away yesterday at the age of 63 after a struggle with lung cancer.

And in very much the same vein (I watched Trainspotting last night...), today we remember and mourn the untimely death of one of music's most iconic figures, especially to those of us that prefer music that isn't particularly run-of-the-mill. Ian Curtis, your suicide - whilst robbing us of what could have been a few extra albums - served not only to end your tumultuous anguish, but to raise you (and the rest of Joy Division) up to unlikely cultural icons that have subsequently become references for the greater good of all music. As one of your most ardent fans once put it - and I'm sure Paul Morley meant this in a flattering way - had you lived, you could have been the band that U2 eventually became. I don't think I have to articulate the gratitude I feel that you didn't.

None of this is particularly irreverent. That's ok. We all have our off days...

So tomorrow night is the sporting event of the year: The Champions League Final. The unlikely contestants are Bayern Munich, playing in their home stadium after having beaten the Galacticos of Real Madrid, and Fucking Chelski, having beaten Barcelona. If I had my way the game would be decided on penalties, with John Terry once again missing the crucial spot kick. Unfortunately he isn't playing because he is nothing more than an ill disciplined thug who got what he richly deserved. Among a slew of other Chelsea players not eligible to play is the one and only player of theirs I feel sorry for. Merieles is a truly class player and the foul that earned him a place in the stands was not too bad. Nonetheless.

I'm actually quite ambivalent about the whole game. I am backing Bayern to win as much because of their vastly superior European pedigree and the fact that Roman Abromovich should not simply be able to buy success (the death of football), but because my boss AND the Hot Girlfriend are both Chelsea supporters.

Hehehehe.

Anyway, I'm saving up my store of irreverence for the next 2 weeks. Next weekend is World Goth Day and once again I'm DJing. After that I have to zoot off to my Brother-In-Awe's Star Wars birthday party. I'm considering a Storm Trooper outfit, if for no other reason than it offers substantial facial protection from the likes of Slappy.
And a few days later I age another year. Along with DrHellCuz. From up Norff. There will be a wee celebration. There may be some booze. The Dean might have something to do with it. There may be a Pot-o-Doom. There sure as hell had better be a Tarty Farty Tequila Party. She's on thin ice as it is, having taken the sacrilegious standpoint that iconic dead souls needn't be referred to by their correct names...

Hope you all have wonderful weekends. Go forth. Use Trainspotting as a useful guide to acceptable behaviour. Except that bit where Spud flings a sheet full of pooh over the breakfast table. That was pretty grim.

NGDG: "You may have been 'Pumped up for Summer' - whatever that means - but what are you now, with your faded bumper sticker and months of icy winds ahead? A Highveld listener. Oh, the shame!"

Oh no, he di'int!

Spread The Love. It'll Tear Us Apart.

CAPTAIN PANTS AND THE CATAPULTS.

So it's ok for our esteemed Comrade President to flounce around with his Spear out, prodding at his harem of wives and other "Lewinsky-ites", but Heaven forbid it's captured in a painting and hung on a wall. They censored the picture before I could determine for you, my adoring readership, if indeed it was well hung or not. Zapiro must be rolling in the aisles! Wash their mouths out with Lifebouy! Give that man a hot handshake and a golden shower!

Then there's the disturbing, disgraceful and disgusting show of utter disdain for the rule of law in our fair land perpetrated by the working man's union, COSATU. They were actually protesting the fact that the DA was protesting the fact that they were in protest of the ANC's proposed bill to subsidise youth employment. So actually what COSATU is saying is that the people already on the payroll are the only ones that count, even if they spend more time overturning dustbins and sleeping under trees... and most of them can't count. Fuck the poor and destitute and desperate (school leavers) and never mind the commendable (for once) long term strategy aimed at alleviating the misery shared by so many of our people. Oh, and do you hear the slowly crumbling facade of the Tripartite Alliance? Commie bastards.

NGDG: "The fucking neighbour is at it again! I can only hope the cold comes suddenly to wrap her Dunhill and box-wine wrecked mortal coil in terminal pneumonia."

Viva! Neal Goldwyer, viva!

Spread The Love. Throw Rocks Out With Your Cocks Out!

NAKED TWISTER

Could there be a better game?
The ultimate test of strength, suppleness and self control...
As long as when you finally collapse you manage to avoid planting an elbow in your partner's nethers, I suppose we're all good, although I sincerely doubt any game has ever made it past the 4th spin of the colour indicator thingy.

Ah, plumbing. Yes last night I indulged in a spot of watching my good mate The Sing-Gher extend the fittings to allow for my new oh-so-spiffy under counter tap connection. After much coffee, swearing, bashing and rolling of tape we eventually discovered the "AquaMend" and Robert's Your Mother's Brother.

Then we sat down and spent some time conspiring to write the next great piece of lyrical art and came up with a pretty good framework of a song, even if I already know it'll be an entirely different beast in a week's time. Excited, though.

So it's all systems go for the kitchen to be finished by the 2012 incarnation of the Malcoholocaust. Unfortunately this year I can't officially name it that as I am sharing my birthday celebration with the much vaunted Dr Hell Cuz from up Norff. We share a birth date and a surname. We're also going to take in the breathtaking views of Cape Town from high up on the Mountain. Cable car rides are free on your birthday. Can't wait. As long as the weather plays along, I'm sure it'll be fine. Although later that day when the masses descend for the party, we may be a little on the "pregamed" side, if you catch my meaning. You see, neither of us can function socially without some form of inebriant. Alas.

And now I am off to do that most conscientious of duties, my recycling. This has nothing to do with riding the Argus again. I'm off to the municipal depot with all my glass, plastic and cardboard. Gee vir my 'n fokken goue sterretjie.
As much as I'd like to sit here and carry on entertaining the lot of you, this must take precedence. Not out of some sort of green-consciouse obligation to the future welfare of our planet, but rather because it affords me the opportunity to get the hell away from my desk and the office. See you chimps later!

NGDG: "Hollande beats Sarkozy by 500,000 votes. The last time the French unseated a power-hungry midget it took an English Duke and about as tenth as many men from England, Belgium and, ironically, Holland."

Spread The Love. Pick A Colour. Get Your Elbow Out Of My Mouth.

Incidentally I was originally going to go with this picture...

THE THINGS PEOPLE MOAN ABOUT...

Sometimes it's quite amusing roaming around the labyrinth of the intrawebnets, trying in vain to find something other than The Oatmeal from which to derive any worthwhile entertainment. It's amazing what you can find. Cats, contrary to popular belief, are not amusing. In the least. Fuck cats. They don't play well with others.

Anyway, there seems to be an ever-increasing trend of religious vs anti-religious debate going on again. People still haven't figured out that they will never, no matter how often or persuasively they try and convey their opinions or beliefs, miraculously sway the beliefs of the person who holds the opposite opinion or belief. In the same fashion as you will never convince me that surprise buttsex is a good idea. Wars have been waged. In fact, they continue to be fought. Do you really believe they're being fought to gain the moral high ground? Nope. Afraid not. Usually has something to do with oil or very old paperwork. Groinchurn once came up with the wonderful 'Putting the fun back into fundamentalism'.

I think I'm going off track here.

A few points to take note of to everyone:
You are not going to go up, down or sideways in anyone's opinion by continuing to proclaim you piety, your lack thereof, or your disdainful distaste for either.

1. If you're for any particular religion or denomination, please practice the much preached about tolerance towards the sinners that are obviously on the highway to hell. Either pity them or ignore them, just please do so less publicly. Like my once very good friend who chose to graciously remove herself from the fray altogether and concentrate on what she felt was important in her life.
2. Same goes for the proud sinners. You're just trying your best to garner attention for being "annerste". It's adolescent and no one could give less of a crap. The same tolerance you so desperately crave from the virtuous should be afforded them as well.
3. And finally to those that, despite claiming to not believe in anything, spend more time than either party waffling on about something that apparently doesn't exist. Enough already. Congratulations. You're very clever for having singlehandedly figured out the existential mysteries of mankind. They should rename Wikipedia after you.

Bugger. I expect to lose some followers after this one...

NGDG: "I have a 7am meeting. Depending on the amount of 'likes' I get here, I'll either intentionally go in late and blame the traffic or carry on living my life, go in at my usual time, also late, and blame traffic."

Spread The Love. I Mean It.

MORE BANG FOR YOUR BUCK

A term "coined" to explain the increased expectation regarding the quantity and quality of goods or services in exchange for your ever more hard-earned cash. Not cheaper hookers. Although...

Anyway, the point is we expect more and more these days, don't we? With the mandatory tightening of belts the Earth's over-population and corrupt governance has forced upon us all, we are forced to do shopping at grocery stores other than Woolies or the Food Lover's Market. Except those delusional Tableau Voi housewives that still think it's a status symbol to spend R100 on a small selection of so-called "organic" vegetables from the Biscuit Mall on a Saturday morning. It's like the last 150 year's worth of progress never happened. They schmaltz around lower Woodstock forcing their poor disheartened hubbies to proudly hold out the little wooden crate of carrots and potatoes like it's fucking Simba in the Lion King, as they totter 8 city blocks in their stilettos to where they left the Hyundai Tuscan, clutching their Blackberries and water bottles extra tight lest one of the gazillion informal car guards or even worse, locals, look at them with too penetrating a gaze.

Where was I?

Ah yes, we're being forced to make our money stretch a bit further with every fuel price hike. People have resorted to *shudder* buying clothing at budget outlets like Pep Stores. This has given rise to a new phenomenon: The Socialite Thrift Shopper. You know, the ooh-lala-look-at-me type that spouts off like they're permanently in a CTM ad instead of admitting to their friends and family that they're essentially cheap and/or struggling to keep up the payments on the Merc.

It's quite disheartening. I have the solution. If you HAVE to shop at Pep, make sure it's for things that no one other than you girlfriend sees. Buy your socks 'n' jocks there in big fat bargain packs. Face it Tonto, your chick doesn't give 2 shits when you're debriefing. She's more concerned with your package. And the fact that your arse is a bit better off from the extra walking the petrol price has imposed upon your lifestyle. Also, I have recently figured out that you're more likely to find rare and cool cds at outdoor markets than in specialist music retail stores as well. Sorted! In the liberating spirit of publicly admitting that I'm a cheap bastard, here are a few tips to live by:

1. Use leftover teabags soaked in a glass jar of paraffin, instead of the entire box of Blitz at a time.
2. Buy "Wildsvleis" instead of lamb. The label says it's Kudu, Springbok or Ostrich, but I reckon you're safe either way.
3. Remove the Debonairs number from your speed dial.
4. Cut down on your smoking, you're doing to give up one day anyway. Think about that and get back to me.
5. Buy box wine and keep one or 2 bottles of impressive wine only for special occasions like when the in-laws come around.
6. Wash your own car. (If you're a girl, do so in a white bikini with Kelis blaring in the background...)
7. Buy less snacks. This will have the triple bonus advantage of less initial outlay, less subsequent outlay on personal trainers, and more sex.

Etcetera...

However. There are certain things on which it pays not to skimp. After all, "goedkoop koop is duur koop"
Sunlight liquid, 2 ply toilet paper, decent coffee, Melrose cheese spread, good shoes, quality home entertainment components, good jeans (a rarity, no matter which way you apply the phonetics), and trusted dental care and birth control.

Can you tell I don't feel like work?

NGDG: "This 'Fetal Development App' is freaking me out. Everyone's about to give birth to alien animes and David Duchovny will come up to me in a towel and say 'I love you, Runkle'."

Spread The Love. Roll Around In Your Money.

2 LITTLE 2 LATE

Ever since I got that picture I have been dying to use it in this here bloggy blog blog. Finally I have sweet fuckall to say - nothing to promote and even less to report on. Rose Thorn and I totally forgot that Biffy wasn't going to Barf Lies, so we ended up nursing a pair o' pints waiting for some people to pitch up. Then we went home. Uneventful.

So, true to form, I have successfully avoided the dreaded lurgy through sheer bloody mindedness. Given that there were so many things to organise and attend, I wasn't going to let the sniffles get the better of me. Oh no, sirree! Now that I am on the verge of going on my annual leave, guess what! I may even go and lie in bed before my leave starts. I especially enjoy having to deal with this when I'm trying to wrap up projects so I don't have too much unfinished business while away AND I'm in the middle of doing the auditor's damn job for them...

If I miss anyone's birthday or special event, or don't reply with undue haste to silly spam invitations, my deepest apologies. Looks like the intrawebnets is free of my inane blathering for a fortnight. You think you can handle it? I'm pretty sure I'll muddle through. If you're bored and or deprived/depraved enough you can always go and check out the "best of" my daily dose of delusion. Here are a few favourites from the recent past:

Booze Panic!
Good earplugs- this season's must-have accessory.
Your Irreverence...
Fillet and fellatio.
Reliving the glory daze...
An education in music and me.
The art of sloth. Nothing at all to do with NWA.
Here is a speech about ineptocracy - "fuck you, South Africa."
A Stella voyage of self discovery.
In which I get tricked and expel a lung.


*THIS WAS IN DRAFT WHEN THE INTERNET WENT DOWN AT WORK ALL AFTERNOON ON MY LAST DAY BEFORE LEAVE. SOD IT - YOU'RE GETTING IT ANYWAY

Spread The Love. Ask Miss Pacman How.

I CHOKED LINDA LOVELACE...

Well, not really. I haven't even seen 'Deepthroat'. Yet.

And to think! I had all these amazing titles just lined up for my glorious return to the land of the intrawebnets. Something about sitting chained behind a desk and in front of a computer somehow immediately sucked the urgency and virility out of my thought processes. Back to life, back to reality, back to the ever-mundane trudge through the mire of working class life. Eh.

So I could probably spend the rest of the day typing all about how glorious my leave was and all the wonderful things that I did. Truth is I (typically) waited until there wasn't anything urgent pending and then gave in to the ever-present impending lurgy. Nothing like spending the first week of your vacation on your back. Stricken with flu, not Asian hookers...

Love you long time! How the FUCK have you all been?!?!?!

I did get to do a few cool things, though. My buddy from the UK was down with the wife and kid, so we braaied. A lot. We also took in a few wine farms. I'm sure I'm not the first to make the following observation, but there is something decadently enjoyable about mooching from one wine tasting to the next while the rest of the world keeps the cogs grinding at their respective places of employment/slavery.

I also managed to do some of the renovation I had so carefully mapped out and planned for. Naturally, the snags that I hadn't foreseen caused the lot of it only to be completed about halfway, but the one half ot the kitchen looks AWESOME! And the roof beams that are lying in the unfinished half, drying under Woodoc are also pretty cool. I have, however, had to sacrifice my dining room to the gods of surplus storage space. And since I have yet to install that cabinet in the kitchen that houses the drawers, the cutlery is a daily short trip beyond various boxes, some chairs and a cabinet. Now that I write it out like that, perhaps it is a little silly/lazy. Maybe I'll bring it out and stash it temporarily in a cupboard.

Yes, lots to report and much over which to muse, but much like other peoples' vacation photos, not much of any particular interest to you, my dear devotees. Suffice it to say I am physically broken from the partying and self imposed slave labour, but spiritually rested and mentally as spry as an old man that's just realised his pecker still works in the old age home.

Which brings us neatly to the plans for the next while. You'll never guess. Lots of band rehearsals. Thank goodness I'm so kak everytime is like a new experience, trying to remember how songs go.

All jokes aside, this morning was pure, festering, evil murder. Try spending three weeks surfacing at roughly lunchtime and then set your alarm for dawn. To make it up to myself for this unwarranted punishment I may have to mollify myself with a bit of wine this evening. Tomorrow morning's episode is already off to a corking fuck up. See a pattern?

Anyway, I've missed you. I've missed how you allow me to stain the sheets of your personal intrawebnets with my only very vaguely entertaining nonsense. And I especially appreciate the sentiments poured forth by around 3 of you saying that you'd missed these here little soap box wankathons. Thank you! I shall do my best to continue lubricating the nipples of progress, pleasure and Puritanism.

Let's go and have a quick nose at what our resident philosiphizerer has to offer us on this fine day.
NGDG: "I'd rather have Parkinson's than Alzheimer's. It's better to spill half your beer than to forget completely where the fuck you put it."

Spread The Love. All You Need Is...

 4 Long Life Batteries!