Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Touch me on my kisbet

Turkish. Oil. Wrestling.

That's almost all I really need to say. When I first came across this sport, I thought it was some kind of fetish ladies-in-bikinis thing for straight guys or something. Boy, was I ever wrong.


Turkish. Oil. Wrestling.

That's right, you're not imagining it. This sport, played by extremely manly Turkish men, involves being doused thoroughly in olive oil and then having it out with your opponent. Wrestling, that is. According to Wikipedia: "oil wrestling matches may be won by achieving an effective hold of the kisbet. Thus, the pehlivan aims to control his opponent by putting his arm through the latter's kisbet."

 You touch me on my kisbet.

Now a lot of people would think this is extremely gay. Right at this moment I'm thinking some of my own special thoughts (don't tell me you're not). All that aside, I think it does take a man who is very confident in his own sexuality to be able to touch another's kisbet.

 Clearly very confident in their masculinity.

Monday, April 12, 2010

We had joy, we had fun...

If your family is anything like mine you must have done most of your holidaying in Durban while growing up in the 80's/early to late 90's. We had the added benefit of my grandparents living there and both my parents having been born and growing up there, so for me it was practically a second home.

The trip down to the coast would invariably be done at some ungodly hour in the morning before most farm animals had even woken up, but since it was a holiday trip, we didn't mind. Kids would be bundled into the Volkswagen station wagon wrapped in duvets, mom would be packing all kinds of goodies into tupperware for the roadside stops and dad would be checking that he hadn't forgotten anything. Inevitably something would always be left behind).

Since most of these trips was a half-conscious affair for me, I remember things in snatches. Seeing the stars through the car window and wondering how far we were now. The smell of cold boerewors and chicken pieces coming from the tupperware. And then of course the music.


My dad had a tape collection that I now gather was rather standard fare for most people travelling down to the coast or on holiday somewhere. In fact it seemed to be a requirement. Now while I don't mind a bit of Nana Mouskouri from time to time, I feel a bit damaged by having been exposed to the other artists in his collection:


Richard Clayderman. Plays Andrew Lloyd Webber. Vol 2. Take a moment to appreciate the full horror of this. Also the fact that these songs were played while I and my sister were sleeping, thereby imprinting our subconscious minds with every song every written by Andrew Lloyd Webber and played by Richard Clayderman. For years I thought that this was the only music people listened to on the radio.

But there's more:



What is that I hear you say? Please have mercy and stop raping my mind? Oh dear, then you probably wouldn't want to see the last example of what I was exposed to as a young'n...

SCROLL DOWN ONLY IF YOU'RE NOT PRONE TO SCREAMING LIKE A LITTLE GIRL










 Cower in fear mortals.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Keeping up appearances

Another classic show :



Hyacinth Bucket (pronounced Bouquet) is a British housewife who is constantly frustrated in her attempts to ascend the ladder of the English social classes. If you've never seen it before, now's the time to check it out. It looks like most of the series is available on Youtube.

I find it especially funny because it takes me back to when I was growing up. I saw many ladies of the Bouquet variety in the church, the one seemingly more desperate than the other in her attempts to outdo. My mom usually put them in their place very quickly, but I think even she would have fallen down behind the garden wall if she saw Hyacinth coming!

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Car problems - the sequel

So an update on the broken tail light. I lost what little temper I had left with the colleague at work who rammed into my car. Once I was back from holiday we tried yet again to unravel the mysteries of third party claims from our insurance, but to no avail. I made the suggestion that since it was likely to be a small-ish amount, we settle it with cash. I was going to take my car to have the petrol problem fixed, so it would be 2 flies in one go.

Colleague agreed with me that this would be best and matters proceeded. Afterwards I handed her the invoice, while reminding her that I would need payment at the soonest, as I was using money that I needed to pay bills. Once again, agreed, she would pay me once she had worked out that the VAT on the invoice was correct. Before long weekend, still no payment so I decided to let it lie till after. After the long weekend I approach her again. Now all of a sudden she has decided to try the insurance option again and I have to claim from my side and all kinds of bullshit. Looking into my account I am now into the red because of course there's not enough money for all the debit orders. Her reaction: But I thought you said you would have enough money for the light. Ja, but only for a short time! I need that money back!

I confronted her this morning to ask her whether she can't give me the money until the insurance has paid out, then I just pay her back. Now she's all like, I gave her the wrong information and she has been bending over backwards to accomodate me. Accomodate me! Bitch, you were the one that drove into my fucking car!

Still waiting to hear from Outsurance regarding the claim, because of course I had it done at a place that was not pre-approved. I would love to hear how she will try to explain that away. What galls me the most is that she now does not recognize the verbal agreement that we had and is now trying to pin it all on me.

And all this from a very quiet, nervous little library tannie.