20 things that plague my mind...

Questions I suspect even the Naked Scientist would struggle to answer!

1)      Where do your socks go?

You throw both of them into the basket. You do a silent a prayer, and hope that they’ll still be together when they come back. Of course they don’t come back. Just the one does. Grrr!!!

2)      What became of that really pretty girl from Sunday school?

She’s pretty, soft-spoken, and her parents are God-fearing. She’s perfect marriage material. Why didn’t one get her address and keep her as a pen-pal until marriage time? EISH!!!

3)      What does Jacob Zuma say when he’s courting a lass?

He doesn’t seem to fail! Seemingly every member of the opposite sex he looks at, goes weak at the knees. What’s up with that?

4)      What happened on that last night of matric rave?

I was wet, I had half a burger in my mouth and I wasn’t in my bed when I awoke. I have snippets of flashbacks which involve Vodka-Sourz shots, and me being inappropriate (as ever) but nothing concrete. Perhaps it’s for the better.

5)      Is anyone not corrupt at FIFA?

I’m in the midst of reading Foul, the story about the goings on in Zurich. Wow! It doesn’t paint a pretty picture of the people governing the beautiful game. Not particularly inspiring for the average fan like yours truly!

6)      Does Julius Malema believe the stuff he says?

I realise he’s a politician and so there is going to be a fair bit of grandstanding whenever he talks. But, there are some things he says, that make me wonder whether he’s not just being provocative.

7)      What happened to Wesleys’ digital camera? (The one from matric dance)

We were all mates on the table. We all trusted each other. And we’ve all slept at one another’s houses. Only one person on the table didn’t fit into that category... prime suspect much?

8)      WHAT DO WOMEN WANT?

Seriously. What is the female of the species looking for in a partner? I have not made any progress in this regard, and so perhaps it’s time to come right out and ask.

9)      That girl from Vuzu-is it Lalla-why does she speak like that?

It’s like one long sentence and it’s, it’s nauseating really. I can’t watch V-Entertainment because of her. She drives me mad!

10)   Do dentist’s children enjoy going to the dentist?

It’s the trip I hate most. But maybe dentist’s are able to do a PR job on their children, convincing them of how awesome the dentist actually is. I doubt it though.

11)   Does Shiceka feel bad about plundering the states resources?

You had to go stay at a five star hotel because there were mosquitoes in your house? Really? Does he get embarrassed when he reads things like that? Does he drive passed Khayalitsha and think, I’ve really served the people well... Imbecile!

12)   Does anybody feel bad about the mess that was the Arms deal?

I’m aware that arms deals in general are a murky-one might say dirty-business. But so soon into the new dispensation, while we were still feeling warm and fuzzy, people enriched themselves by corrupt means. Do those people regret that?

13)   Is Wouter Basson being serious?

They called you Doctor death. You tried to wipe out a generation of blacks, and yet you are surprised and displeased when they seek to take away your medical practitioners licence? You’re joking right?!

14)   Are Vodacom and RIM being serious?

Sorry, is all that you can say? That only sounded cool when Tracy Chapman sang it. It’s not cool at all when the device I depend on and, the accompanying network give me a sub-standard service. Sorry?! Seriously?!

15)   Do taxi drivers take themselves seriously?

When they’re sat having an after work beer with their mates, do they tell tales of the horror, frustration, and mayhem they’ve caused on the roads? Do they take pride in their days work?

16)   Did I seriously have relations with that girl?

Okay I’m a guy but I’m sure even women have that one dude that they just can’t believe they hooked up with. Sat there with your head in your hands the next morning wondering whether you’re being serious. Or whether it was just a bad dream.  LC anybody?!

17)   Is it true that Russian bear is in fact pure Ethanol?   

Even as you drink it, you can tell that if somebody lights a match anywhere near you, you’re going to catch alight. You’re also a different kind of drunk. Just unruly, and... Different...

Yho!

18)   Does the Crackling Rose have a good nose?

Do they ever have Crackling at wine expos? Does some wine afficianado ever smell it and go   “Yes yes, a good nose. Good flavours”

19)   Did anyone really enjoy Titanic the movie?

C’mon man. You knew what was going to happen. Steve Harvey said it, why were there for two hours? Bring on the water. “I’m the king of the world” Ah shut it!

20)   Did you honestly take time out of your busy day to read this?

Really? You didn’t have something to do that’d help contribute to the economic well being of this country? Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it, but go read War and Peace or something! 

An open letter to South African sport:

To whom it may concern,

For many in this country and the world, rugby, cricket, and soccer are just games. However, for a few these sports are more than that. They are the difference between the great mood on Monday, and the “don’t you come near me you chirpy old sod” expression which can regularly be seen on an Arsenal fans face.

In the last couple of weeks, however, I have found myself wearing this expression more and more. I have not changed allegiances with any of my teams. Rather I have afforded, the country’s national teams the freedom of my heart. This is not something new. Even though I’m a naturalized saffa I generally support South African teams. However, what happened over the last two weeks is unprecedented.  All of the national teams disappointed. I used that word specifically, because underneath my anger, and vitriolic outbursts was a very real feeling of disappointment and perhaps even a slight feeling of betrayal.

The Springboks left our shores amidst much fanfare and backslapping. In truth I never expected them to bring back the trophy but sport has taught me to never say never. So I crossed my fingers, wore my jersey and backed the boys one hundred per cent. They were after all the defending champions, and did have a plethora of experienced campaigners who knew how to win the world cup. I need not go in to detail as we all know what transpired. I unlike many South Africans don’t blame the ref. Bryce Lawrence had a shocker and should he and I ever meet in a dark tunnel... But I can’t help but feel disheartened by a team being so dominant and not emerging victorious. Disappointment. Betrayal. Then to top it off, the good people at Lead SA organised the welcome back parade for the boys at the airport. I’m sorry, I wasn’t proud of the boys. I really wasn’t, they had underperformed and they knew it. They were ranked third going into the tournament and got knocked out in the quarter finals. They didn’t even live up to their billing as the third best team at the competition. Disappointed. Betrayed. 

This all happened while I was trying to swallow the bitter pill of Bafana not qualifying for the Nations cup, again! After a choreographed number that would have scored a nine out of ten from most dance judges, and a decidedly distasteful display of unsporting behaviour from former hero Itumeleng Khune, Bafana were left with egg on their faces. They had failed to prepare and in so doing prepared the rest of us to fail. They hadn’t, however, actually prepared us! They’d given us hope. Hope that finally things were coming together. But they hadn’t read the rules... Disappointed! Betrayed!

 Cricket SA... The less said, the better. Duped. Disappointed. Betrayed.

Who would want to be a South African sport fan?

Kind Regards

Eish!  

It’s a strange thing this looking for a wife thing. Strange because there are so many intricacies involved. And awkward because there is no basic manual for it either. What might have worked for my father, may not necessarily have worked for my brother, which in turn may not work for me.

Okay there are the basic principles one presumes.  Everybody enjoys a polite person. And most people prefer what they consider a well dressed person. Most people will also tell you they enjoy a good sense of humour (although there’s no standard measure for this either) and people-most people at least-also enjoy mental stimulation.

I want to say that deep down in their heart of hearts people also enjoy a good looking somebody, but then I think of Wayne Rooney and the fact that he’s not only married, but married to a belter! I suppose beauty really is in the of the beer holder, er, beholder that is.

There is something to having lots of money too. Yep, I’m saying it. There is something attractive about a man with lots of money apparently. Don’t be offended ladies, I am not suggesting you are all gold diggers, but I am yet to meet a middle class woman who has thought Wow, that security guard at work could be my life partner. This of course is just my experience if others have had different experience, then two thumbs up! Let’s be serious here for a second, I am not familiar with many rich guys who are married to mingers either... I am going to quit while I’m ahead lest every woman I know deletes me from their phonebook, or worse yet, their BBM!

I suppose the money thing is linked in some kind of subconscious way to intellect, and ultimately security. I suppose everybody wants to feel their future is secure. I know I certainly don’t want to find myself in the midst of a sub-prime crisis. Or worse yet, a situation where I have to drink Autumn harvest crackling...Again! I digress, because what I’m saying I guess is that woman are also interested in fairly intellectual stable men.

I am trying to find what it is the female species is searching for, so that when I unleash myself on the courtship stage, I don’t have many shortcomings. I’ll always have some, for I am only a man. I bleed blood, and drink water. But my shortcomings should be minimal. This way I can circumvent the lack of manual, and possibly make it up as I go along. Hopefully this will speed up, and make the process of trying to find a life partner less painful...    

Master Key

So this morning as I’m coming back from my JSE run I’m jamming away to some Tsepo Tshola. “I am talking about acknowledgement of quality, that exists in our time” he exclaimed.  That’s all it took to get me thinking. Who can I acknowledge, as quality that exists in my time. There were many, many candidates that came to mind. However, one stood out.

I had just dropped her off at the JSE. One of the most strong willed, independant, intellectual, visionary, and well rounded people I know.

Growing up, I never took much notice of her. She was an older sister like any other. We played and had fun together like any set of siblings, but we also fought and fell out like any set of siblings. Okay, we weren’t really like any regular set of siblings, firstly there was a seven year age gap between us. But, most notably my sister was blind from age ten. The circumstances surrounding her eventual blindness were as bizarre as they were sad, so I shan’t go into them.

Some of my early memories of my sister and I were at the hospital in Bloemfontein where she spent a lot of time-too much-during my childhood. It was always fun though, because we never ran out of things to do. She would teach me nursery rhymes, and we’d sing and just generally make merry.

It never struck me that my sister was in any way different.

Until I was about twenty three, I always thought she was pretty special, until one day it struck me just how special, and why she was so special. She had just completed her post graduate management diploma. My parents were especially proud! It struck me then, that she had gone to “normal” (sighted) school all her life (bar six weeks which I’m told were torturous) and had completed school in normal time, despite being in and out of hospital for three years consecutively. Okay she can’t do math as a result (and her spelling leaves a lot to be desired) of it but, she more than makes up for it, in the amazing other things she’s able to do. I always remember fondly the ovation she got at her graduation ceremony. The hundreds of people there didn’t know her, or her struggles, but they knew what stood before them was “pure class”. Even my mother who is the most conservative person I know-and who had already seen her son graduate from Varsity-was absolutely bursting with pride. Dare I say it, there may even have been a tear in her eye. That’s beside the point though. What was evident to all and sundry was that, here was a young person who had overcome some pretty stern challenges. They didn’t know, what I did and that was, she did it all pretty much with a smile!

By her own account it wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies. Certainly she had her will tested, and some of the challenges may have left wounds, but the great thing is she soldiered own. She would not take no for an answer!

This may sound like one cliché after the next, but there is nothing clichéd about this lady. She dresses better than anyone I know-and I know some sartorial genuises-and mixes it with the best of them. She’s got a bitingly sharp wit, and sense of humour second to none. She likes to think she can dance but... Well, you can’t have it all now can you?

She’s the most supportive, loving, and loyal friend. She is in all likelihood the greatest sister on the planet, and my early morning debates, discussions, arguments, and jokes with her form a large part of my perspective on life. I suspect one day, she will make somebody an awesome wife, and hope for her that she gets the opportunity to be the amazing mother I know she will be.

In the immortal words of Kaibe “Master Key, ha re tshwere wena, re tshwere vibe!”      

Ode to Partying: Part II

The matric exam period has to go down as the toughest of my life. It really and truly is not for ants that period! You’ve got to have your wits about you, and you can only know it, by experiencing it!

Fortunately immediately thereafter, a pot of gold awaits! I’d heard previous matrics talk about rave with a particular reverence. I, however, didn’t take it too seriously. I figured, we’d had the mother of all parties the summer before that in Plett and St Francis, and wasn’t quite sure how we could top those good times.

Well, did Matric rave show me! It was like something out of a movie. One of those American Pie type escapades where they head out to Cabo St Luca or something. Absolute debauchery!  From the very first moment we arrived-after what was a fun yet tame car trip-the madness began. A couple of lads who’d got their early were already on their second “bomb” of Crackilng. Yes, that’s right Autumn Harvest! It was that kind of holiday.

My travel companions and I quickly realised, that play time was over. It was time to man up. Forget about our party in Plett, this was Umhlanga and it was going to Rock! We got our game faces on and hit the liquor store. I got myself a bottle of Russian bear-Wrestling the Bear-and began what was to be the most intense drinking and partying session of my entire life. This was day one of seven...

The boys and I had been clever, in our choice of accommodation. We were to stay at Jay’s place in Ballito, about twenty minutes from Umhlanga where the madness happened. It meant we were able to get jiggy with the people at party time, but able to recover on our own in the relative seclusion of nearby Ballito. We would be able to have lunch together-Chicken Bun-and then snooze, or go to the beach. As I recall snooze (or pass out from tiredness) was the most popular option. An afternoon nap on the couch, or an actual sleep in bed never failed!

I can’t recall any of the nights in any great detail. Nor in actual fact do I seek to (lest I give myself and my mates a bad name). Well actually I remember one night. My favourite night of rave! I suppose because I can remember it. We stayed in Ballito that night, and our female friends (don’t want to write girl friends lest I send out the wrong message) came over for a night of drinking games. It was I think night three of the great holiday, and for me personally it was bottle number three of the bear.  The girls arrived and we settled in to what would be a night of much laughter and even more drinking. I think the game of choice was “Indian war signs” but I’d be lying if I said I was sure. What I remember clearly was the end of the night. Two mates had hooked up. They had taken their party to a quieter place (they found a room). Now unfortunately we weren’t blessed with heaps of space in our Ballito apartment. It’s a spacious enough place, but just wasn’t designed for twelve I don’t think. Anyhow, another of our girl mates was supposed to share a room with the girl in the twosome. She went in, to try and get some shut eye, but was disturbed by the sound of this couple making out. Cue: madness. She came out to complain to our host that this was not fair and that while she was happy they found a room, she didn’t feel her room was the right room for them. Your average host would have tried to bring down emotions by empathising and offering a helping hand. Not our host! No! He and another mate saw it fit to stoke the fire. We got our friend in question so riled up that she eventually went to confront the couple. I suppose it was one of those “had to be there” moments but, at the time it was hilarious. I believe the quote of the night was “all I can hear is mwah, mwah, mwah”.

The following morning I had an awkward five minutes. I had managed to get to my bed-thankfully-but had forgotten that I’d be sharing said bed with my best female mate. I woke up quite in need of a bathroom but there was a mop of platinum blonde hair on the pillow next to mine. This shocked-and I suppose kind of-pleased me. But I wasn’t exactly sure how I’d wound up next to this mop of hair. I couldn’t remember having gone out, but hey, who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? So I lay there, waiting.  Waiting to see how much of a stormer I’d played the night before. Imagine my shock and horror when my best mate turned to be the mop of blonde hair. “Hi laddy” were the two words I least expected. So now I was confused. “Err did we?” I enquired “NO” came the definitive-if a touch incredulous answer. She explained that she had snuck off in the middle of the game and sought refuge in the comfort of my bed. I hadn’t picked up a belter. I had merely slept next to one.  Bleak for me!

It was that kind of holiday. One where “the bear” featured prominently and many a funny story which we will never remember-hopefully-were the order of the day. That was truly the best holiday of my life...Until the next summer holiday!