Um's the word

The Awesome of Books

2012-01-13T13:36:00.001+02:00

Yep

2012-01-11T13:36:00.000+02:00

How to create a wormhole using buttered toast and a cat

2011-11-24T13:31:00.000+02:00

Happiness

2011-10-27T08:09:00.000+02:00

Genius

2011-08-22T16:07:00.000+02:00

Who's a good boy then?

2011-08-04T08:08:00.000+02:00

Tomorrow ain't what it used to be

2011-07-08T12:45:00.000+02:00

from Metropolis of Tomorrow

Nyan cat

2011-06-21T11:37:00.000+02:00

This amuses me.

Then there is also the challenge.

Glory be

2011-05-27T13:28:00.000+02:00

Behold!

Yes. That is what I had for lunch today.

Well, not those exact same ones, but you get the idea. I devoured them before I could take a picture and this is the best I can do, ok!

Anyway, they were awesome.

Soviet Russia wants your soul

2011-05-20T12:56:00.000+02:00

(via @godsgimp )

Tintin

2011-05-17T09:29:00.000+02:00

This is going to be epic.

For those who don't like Tintin; you have no soul.

Gay Blog

2011-04-21T12:24:00.000+02:00

"Darling, I believe The Gays are getting restless," Josephine murmurs above the rising sounds of restless house music in the distance.

"Are they really?" James removes the pipe from his mouth. "Good heavens."

He was looking at me funny

2011-03-09T15:14:00.001+02:00

click to enlarge image
via @GoDsGiMp

Hipster Disney - It's become so mainstream

2011-03-01T14:01:00.003+02:00

In a time when men were men...

2011-02-24T10:34:00.000+02:00

These days I look around, and I have to ask myself: Where have all the cowboys gone? Back in the day, when men were men (and sheep nervous), there weren't all these commercials for male moisturizers. No sirree, those days you had real men who didn't care about chapped lips or maimed cuticles. They were unashamedly male, they...

ehm, they...

your manly...

oh never mind.

"You're a walking turn-on."

I don't think I'm going to make it

2011-02-23T15:52:00.000+02:00

Refer to previous post for background.

Just call me the Elephant Man

2011-02-18T15:52:00.000+02:00

via @GoDsGiMp

Chairman Meow

2011-02-10T13:21:00.000+02:00

Nothing, I tell you!

2011-02-09T10:08:00.001+02:00

via @projectjennifer on twitter.

Colour me surprised

2011-01-28T11:58:00.000+02:00

Well you do live and learn. Well I do anyway. Here is an interesting article regarding the original colours of Greek antiquities. Not white, as we've always been lead to believe. I remember le bf had been reading the book Colour and told me about it as well. I suppose it was kind of silly thinking that the Greeks, who had close ties with the East and have always been a very expressive people would have all of their houses and statues done up in white only, kind of like ancient minimalists.

But still, this is a bit shocking:

"Ah! Ah! Ah! Staying alive!"

"Not the face!"

No really. You can hardly tell you've had botox.

Ok that last one isn't too bad, it's actually quite realistic. Like this one:

But most of them are in done in a eye gougingly horrible colour scheme that would put most ravers to shame.

"Do you think the hat is too much?"

"I told that bitch I'd cut her if I saw her again! She didn't listen!"

I'm just going to pretend I never saw this.

While you wait!

2011-01-19T14:49:00.000+02:00

This guy's the quintessential Renaissance man. I'm not too sure that I want my love in portions though. I want it all. Now.

Jiraiya blog

2011-01-12T09:03:00.000+02:00

Update on an old post.

I recently came across Jiraiya's artwork on his blog. What a find! He's basically made all his comics available for free. But be warned. It's intended for a gay audience and is of an extremely adult nature.

The secret life of cats

2010-12-15T11:58:00.000+02:00

(Click to enlarge image)

via @GoDsGiMp

Curse you nature!

2010-11-18T15:56:00.000+02:00

Dramatic Cat is dramatic

2010-11-05T15:31:00.000+02:00

Steampunk - a gentleman's pastime

2010-10-27T12:42:00.003+02:00

Steampunk, as defined by Wikipedia:

"..., steampunk involves an era or world where steam power is still widely used—usually the 19th century and often Victorian era Britain—that incorporates prominent elements of either science fiction or fantasy. Works of steampunk often feature anachronistic technology or futuristic innovations as Victorians may have envisioned them; in other words, based on a Victorian perspective on fashion, culture, architectural style, art, etc. This technology may include such fictional machines as those found in the works of H. G. Wells and Jules Verne or real technologies like the computer but developed earlier in an alternate history."

Abraham Lincoln. With a steampunk jet pack. Thanks Internet.

Take moment to appreciate that this could have been the keyboard as you know it.


"Exterminate! - but in a polite way so as not to cause offense to any person".

Somehwhere, a geek is having an orgasm.

Steampunk Star Wars.


Steampunk Justice League. I think I just had a little "geeksplosion" myself.

Is this a speck of dirt I see before me?

2010-10-11T14:16:00.001+02:00

Self car wash attempt on Saturday. Car = 0. Me = 0. Mother Nature = 1.

I now believe that the test of a man's character lies in how much he is willing to fork out for a complete valet service of his car.


The only way to really keep your car clean.

This much!

2010-10-08T11:58:00.001+02:00

Your roots are showing

2010-09-28T12:25:00.000+02:00

The Klan from Munchkinland

2010-09-16T15:47:00.001+02:00

Morning has broken, so has my spirit

2010-09-10T12:32:00.000+02:00

Once upon a time there was a little farmhouse. And in this little farmhouse lived two homosexuals. One was a lapsed hippie, the other a bit of a city boy...

I must admit to being completely overwhelmed and impressed with the place that le bf was staying in when I met him. The place that we still call home. A quaint, if somewhat dilapidated farmhouse dating from the 19th century on the property of the iconic Sammy Mark Museum. It looks very romantic, has lots of space and some really nice views.

Unfortunately it also has what I like to call the Satanic minions of Mother Nature. Rats, bugs, snakes and sometimes - just for a bit of variety - scorpions. I know it's only natural to have them occupying parts of the house seeing as how we are on a farm property and there doesn't seem to be much distinction between outside and inside, but sometimes it gets a bit too organic. "Bring the outside inside" - Fuck off Top Billing, you clearly have no idea of the implications a statement like that has.

YOU ARE TOO CLOSE TO NATURE! STEP AWAY FROM THE NATURE!

One of the many horribly close encounters with said creatures happened one evening as I lay sleeping peacefully. I remember being in that half awake state, where you're not quite sure where you are, or what's happening. It felt like something was tickling my face. In my semi-unconscious state it felt like a really big moth and I reached up to slap it away. The next minute I feel something running down my leg. This more or less achieved the same effect as six cups of coffee and a cold shower. I was upright in the bed just in time to see the rat running along the floor and into a crack in the wall. The big fat Mamelodi township rat.

I promptly woke up le bf, who responded heroically to the news of a mutated rat gnawing at my face with: "So what do you want me to do about it?". I relocated to a part of the house with a seemingly more dormant rat population and was joined 10 minutes later by le bf after a rat tried to chew on his foot. We bought industrial strength rat poison the very next day.

It had to take a rat on my face to get le bf to buy rat poison because he believed, in the face of mounting evidence, that nature was a soft cuddly friendly place that you needed to get in touch with as much as possible.

Pictured: Nature lying in ambush.

A year passed, and in that time I was "suprised" by nature no less than 4 times. A rat jumped off a shelf at me while I was looking for a plate. A rat that I was trying to force out from behind the fridge ran up instead of down and ending up taking a flying leap at my face. Another rat (notice the pattern. I see you Mother-fucking-Nature.) investigated my foot and part of my leg while I was brushing my teeth.

One evening I took my place upon the porcelain throne in the bathroom when I noticed what appeared to be a plastic snake on the little ledge opposite the toilet. Le bf was forever moving things around the house and finding weird stuff to decorate it with, so in my mind this was a distinct possibility and also the only reason why I proceeded to touch it. It moved and it was just as well that I was on the loo at that point in time. I proceeded to inform le bf of the little invader and much hilarity ensued as we approached the snake (it later transpired that it was a harmless house snake) with brooms, pans, etc.

I also have a permanent vendetta with the wasps that insist on making their nests in the house, on the backs of paintings, on curtains, the bottom of chairs. They have the whole bloody Bosveld in which to build their flipping nests! But they insist on using the house trip switches and other fun places as their base of operations. I've taken to spraying the hell out of any I find and posting their mangled little corpses at all main entrances to the house with signs saying: "Enter at your own risk you little bastards!".

Anyway, the view we have of the valley is simply spectacular.

What do you mean "everyone brought potato salad"?!

2010-08-31T13:42:00.000+02:00

Bookshelf porn

2010-08-20T13:14:00.000+02:00

Recent developments in my book buying habits have led to a distinct shortage of space in which to put said books. I'd already run out of space on the big bookshelf in the living room about 3 years ago, so le bf kindly constructed a table out of an old door (pictures of this later).

However, this exposes my books to the copious amounts of dust that settles on everything at the farm house. There's no getting around it anymore. I need another bookshelf.

While trawling the web for ideas, I came across this drool worthy website. Don't worry, it's SFW and so so pretty:

Oh yes.

Yes.

Oh baby.

Yes. yes.

Oh!...

If you would excuse me, I need to be alone right now.

Mum! Mum! Can I have one, pleeeaaassse??

2010-08-18T14:24:00.000+02:00

Aaawww...

Shuttlecat is not amused

2010-08-16T12:53:00.001+02:00

Me: "Please explain to me why my car has been there for a week and nothing has happened?".

Garage: "We are still waiting for authorisation from the factory to replace the cam belt and cylinder heads on their cost. Perhaps you would like to accept the quote so we can start work and then you can claim the money from them later?".

Me: "... Give me the number of this so-called factory so I may impress upon them the urgency of the matter, i.e. I am effectively without transport and am using someone else's car".

Garage: "I will phone you back in 2 hours".

It is now 3 hours later.

I put a spell on you

2010-07-22T08:33:00.005+02:00

Now this is what I call forward thinking, a sangoma (witchdoctor) that can move with the times. She even promises to "make hair nice and straight with no dark & lovely even under arms" and a free installation of DSTV! Call now and she'll probably even throw in a set of knives and a braai set!


(Click to enlarge)

A Dutch supporter

2010-07-12T11:08:00.000+02:00

A public service announcement

2010-06-11T10:38:00.000+02:00

A very important announcement before the World Cup kicks off this afternoon:

Let's all work together.

Poor me

2010-06-01T14:01:00.002+02:00

So, after having consumed what I can only assume was a large quantity of red wine last night, and waking up from a nightmare at 4, I am not my usual chirpy self today.

Therefore I would like to take a moment to extoll the virtues of a good old fashioned pity session.

"But self pity is only for losers who can't handle their hangovers!" I hear you say. Ah, I see your 'Loser' and raise you a 'Fuck you'.

There's absolutely nothing wrong with feeling sorry for oneself and wallowing in the muds of despair every now and then. You have a good cry, moan about how crap your life is and that nobody understands how hard it is to be you, and generally make yourself feel like the most miserable creature that has ever crawled this earth.

This serves in fact to bolster the ego, which has gone into hiding for a moment and won't come out until the world apologizes to it. All the griping and moaning serves as a cushion to your eventual reentry into the cold, cruel world, once you have gathered your strength. When you inevitably surface from the depths of melancholy that has become your dreary existence, and see that everything is actually just fine, hope and joy is restored once more.

You may find however, that sometimes circumstances dictate a more direct course of action.

It's party time

2010-05-31T12:50:00.000+02:00

It's 10 days to the World Cup and I'm actually starting to get excited. I suppose it's all those flags you see on almost every car and realizing that this is actually a big deal and not just some major annoyance that you wish would be over as quickly as possible.

Also last night we got invited to an opening match party at friends of ours' house and there's nothing like a little bit of anticipation to get the party juices flowing. I might even wear that hideously yellow soccer shirt we got at work.

What will you be doing for the night of the opening game?

I don't want to brag...

2010-05-28T11:34:00.006+02:00

...but look at how awesome le bf's art is!

Rebecca is our source of news at the farm. She's a lovely woman, who has worked at the Sammy Marks museum for 23 years. A perfect subject for one of Kobus' paintings.

A painting with Liza, one of our friends.

And who is this handsome devil? One of the benefits of having le bf de artiste is that he can immortalize one in a manner that is very pleasing.

Some more awesomeness.

I am also sharing this awesomeness with you because tonight there is an exhibition opening hosted by The Gallery @ Duncan Yard in Hatfield, Pretoria and le bf (Kobus Walker) is taking part. We haven't been to many exhibitions recently, mostly because our livers were asking us nicely not to! But this one promises to be one of the best of the year. Exhibition openings in Pretoria tend toward the very social - add to that the fact that most of the galleries are next to restaurants that sell alcohol and you've got one big fat kuier.

So if you are in the Pretoria/Hatfield area tonight and just sitting at home with nothing to do, come tap me on the shoulder for a chat, and we can have a lekker skinner. Oh, and look at some awesome art of course.

God help us all

2010-05-25T11:45:00.003+02:00

You see. This is what happens when you allow the numbers of shrill, 14 year old teeny boppers to get out of control. I propose we immediately implement the emergency culling program before the numbers destabilize our delicate social ecosystem and it's too...

late.

On the subject of exes, or, How I learnt to stop worrying and love my boyfriend

2010-05-13T15:03:00.002+02:00

So le boyfriend's art page on Facebook has gone live, for those of you who might have missed my shameless, almost non-stop attempts at promoting it for the past week.

[If you look to your left you will see a like box. You now have the urge to press the like button. Do not fight this urge. Press it. Press it now. My voice is the only thing you can hear. I know you want it.]

Aaannndd you're back! What was I saying? Oh yes. Le boyfriend's ex is a dick and I want to take a dump on his lungs.

Whew! Harboring homicidal tendencies sure does take it out of you! Actually I've never even met the guy. I just hate him in principle, after all the wonderfully entertaining anecdotes I've heard of him. I don't think this makes me a bad person, because I get along just swimmingly with all the other ex-boyfriends/shags, no problem.

That's because they are all decent people. Whereas you, Mr. Fuckface, I will personally disembowel and display your entrails on the nearest bridge over the N1. Just a friendly little warning. Toodles!

Jiraiya revisited

2010-05-10T15:50:00.000+02:00

Found some links to what seems to be Jiraiya's personal site and blog courtesy of a friend on Twitter @tokyo23japan. Great, but everything is in Japanese, and Google Translate isn't exactly accurate.

I have sent the artist an email asking whether he doesn't want to consider maybe starting a Facebook group, or site, for his English speaking fans and will keep you updated.

When I was your age...

2010-05-05T14:50:00.006+02:00

When I first came out of the closet, there was none of this "variety" and "options". We had to make do with what we had: horrible old queens screaming along to ABBA tapes shuffling on an endless loop in dingy, smelly old clubs in the Pretoria CBD.

And we had to walk all the way from the parking lot at the State Theater to get there! You kids nowadays have it so easy...

Disaster! The Sequel.

2010-05-04T12:13:00.003+02:00

So what do we have next on the disaster film itinerary? Oh yes, the genre experienced something of a revival during the 90's when all those smart boys at Hollywood figured out how to use CGI. I'm sure everyone remembers:

Those aliens really deserve more credit. Can you imagine how difficult it must have been to get that mother of a spaceship parked exactly centered over those specific targets? They fly all those millions of light years just to have some idiot overwhelm their clearly more advanced technology with a Windows 95 computer virus... Wait! What?!

Moving swiftly along. The 90's had a couple of disaster movies that were virtual clones of each other. Like the imaginatively titled:

Hotter than hell and boring as shit.

And the small town version with a sinewy Linda Hamilton.

And then of course the 2 asteroid movies.

The one with Bruce Willis:

And the one without.

Cows flying through the air. That's all I'm going to say.

Only way out you say? Excuse me, I think I've just wasted an hour of my life.

Then we have the very environmentally minded:

Which has yet another iconic disaster scene depicting New York being pummeled into oblivion. I don't know whether Americans don't like New York, or whether it's just an easy target. The tidal wave scene in this movie was actually "inspired" (read: directly copied from) by a scene from the 1933 movie:

Another one for all fans of claustrophobia is the little known:

Yes that does kind of look like that creepy ghost kid from "The Grudge". The movie has the same kind of dark overtones. I count this as more horror/thriller than disaster movie, but I suppose since it is about a bunch of astronauts trying to restart the Sun, you could class it as a disaster film.

Shame Nicolas Cage seems to be trying really hard, just like this movie.

And last, but not least:

We weren't warned about this movies' high rating on the crapometer.

But I suppose in the end, it's not really necessary for disaster movies to be intelligent with complex plots and lots of character development since the plot and characters exist solely as a sort of filler for the actual star of the movie. The Disaster.

Disaster!

2010-05-03T13:48:00.001+02:00

Last night, for lack of anything interesting on tv (True Lies etv, really? that's the best you could come up with??) we ended up watching 2012 again. You can say what you like about it, but there's nothing I like better than a good old fashioned disaster movie. Huge waves, earthquakes, meteors crashing into the Atlantic Ocean, people screaming as they fall into gargantuan cracks in the earth - bring on the popcorn!

"Earthquake" was one of the first I was ever allowed to see when I was about 6 years old. As my dad and I watched this the first time, a small tremor from a nearby mine made a mirror come crashing down from the wall. That was a bit more 3D than I'd anticipated and I was put off watching "grootmens" movies until...

This came on the tv one night. I'm surprised now that my parents let me watch it, but I remember that they felt it was a classic and it would result in a gap in my upbringing were I not to see it. This was and remains one of the most claustrophobic movies I have ever seen.

Followed closely by the "The Towering Inferno" as the second most claustrophobic. There's also a scene in this movie that I am convinced is the cause of my fear of heights, where a bunch of partygoers are trying to escape the burning building by chair and rope attached to the roof of the building across the road.

Tomorrow : Disaster! The Sequel.

Touch me on my kisbet

2010-04-20T10:49:00.002+02:00

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.

We had joy, we had fun...

2010-04-12T12:49:00.003+02:00

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.

Keeping up appearances

2010-04-08T14:47:00.000+02:00

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!

Car problems - the sequel

2010-04-07T13:47:00.000+02:00

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.

Nat latex en cowboys

2010-03-31T12:14:00.000+02:00

Here's a little something I wrote about 2 years ago. It's in Afrikaans so I hope most of you can read it. The blog has got my fingers itching for some writing again.

To put it bluntly

2010-03-30T15:26:00.001+02:00

Today is one of those days when my inner bitch needed to come out for a bit of a stretch and some fresh air. I am still recovering from the weekend's party, which started on Saturday afternoon and ended on Sunday afternoon. This does not make me the most pleasant person to be around at the moment.

Luckily I found something new to brighten up my day. Check out some of my favourites:

And I won't be able to pencil you in either.

Ahaha, that silly wench!

Oh how these filled me with glee. Now to go and find someone whose life I can make a living hell.

Back from outer space

2010-03-24T15:26:00.003+02:00

So I'm back. Well rested and ready to go. Well, sort of. I could have done with one more week there. In fact, I could have done with staying there and having all our stuff sent down with the next train.

Oh well, as the one banking commercial used to say: One day. We had a slendid time. The train was really such a relaxing ride and such a nice way to see the countryside. We've done car travel, plane and bus and out of all of those I must say I prefer the train. It does take a bit longer, but it's well worth it. I highly recommend the experience.

Also I have to commend Cape Town's metro rail. For a whitey from Gauteng, it's highly unusual to be able to take the metro train and I am really envious of that luxury. We took the metro from CT train station to Fish Hoek and aside from nearly dying from heat and dehydration (recovering from a hangover) we made it to the other side with all our limbs and luggage.

Our friend stays in Glen Cairn and we were able to abuse her hospitality for the whole time we were there. She has a really nice place with an excellent view, we spent a whole lot of the time watching dvds, over eating and generally making pigs of ourselves. My kind of holiday.

Do yourselves a favour and go to the Vaudeville Theatre in Cape Town. What an experience! It's like being at the circus, but only the way you remember it, not the way it appears now to your jaded adult mind. Plus there's an act with two male Romanian gymnasts. That's really the only reason you should want to go.

The Cape is really beautiful and we are really serious about moving there. But first of course several things have to happen, not least of which is me working from home. This a major goal for this year and I am visualizing the shit out of it.

Maammaarrriessss!!

2010-03-12T15:16:00.000+02:00

Remember the Carol Burnett show? I loved it. Still do. The nice thing about the internet is that I am now able to rewatch most of those wonderful shows from my childhood.

Note the young Dame Maggie Smith in that one. Carol Burnett's impression of the queen fucking kills me. Other favourites of mine include Carol as Norma Desmond, doing a parody of Gone with the Wind (look out for her fabulous dress/curtains) and the shows parody of the soap operas of the day - which were all broadcast live and always full of technical faults, incompetent actors and missed cues.

Demotivational posters

2010-03-11T14:04:00.000+02:00

I just really do not know what to make of this.

Thanks to my friend Sandy I nearly had a wet spot in my pants from laughing at the newest addition to the terrorist pantheon. Presumably he's useful because he can be smuggled in small cases of luggage, he waits until the plane is airborne, then jumps out to scare people.

Curiosity then tapped me on the shoulder and pointed out the site address at the bottom of the photo. How could I not look?

This one amused me so much because I have some friends that are addicted to playing games on Facebook for some obscure reason . I've never been able to get into it.

Oh dear. Don't worry, a little sunlight liquid and we'll have that right out, no problem!

Even after years of expensive therapy, little Timmy still screamed at the sight of a Superman duvet cover.

The dangers of not reading the instructions.

And last but not least. I'm thinking of having this one printed on a large poster and laminated. I will take it wherever I go.

Gentlemanly means

2010-03-10T11:25:00.001+02:00

So it's Wednesday morning and as usual we had to sit through another tortuous staff meeting. It is the bane of my existence, I get a physiological reaction just thinking about it. Groaning, eye-rolling, back pain... It sort of reminds me of PT classes at school, although that physically made me ill because of the mental and physical torture that I knew I would soon endure.

While now at least I don't have to deal with some sadistic bastard making me run up and down the rugby field until I collapse from heat exhaustion, I do have to deal with an idiot for whom the concept of respecting other people's time is completely foreign. I hate people wasting my time, I hate doing things which I feel are not contributing to my general enjoyment of life. It's selfish and childish, but hey, I have many other qualities which make up for it.

It's not that I mind meetings and all these other adult, responsible things which have been rather prematurely foisted upon me, I just don't like when it takes longer than an hour for it to happen. Especially when the other person is actually just wasting time and not using it constructively.

There are so many other things I would rather be doing than listening to you Mr. Important. Getting a root canal. Listening to Jurie Els and Robbie Klay sing a duet about their eternal love for each other. Massaging Julius Malema's feet while he makes a speech about the nationalisation of mines. Oh the things I could do if I were a Gentleman of Means.

See the hammock - note my absence from it.

What's in a name?

2010-03-09T10:43:00.001+02:00

So up until recently, yesterday afternoon to be precise, I was convinced that I was the only person with my name in the entire universe. My parents made it up by combining their names (it was the seventies and they were young) and it's taken me the better part of my life and loads of therapy to get over that and forgive them (some bitterness still lingers).

Introduce yourself with a name like this, especially to someone in a crowded noisy nightlcub, and you will inevitably get a blank stare and that look that says: "I will never be able to remember your name". Never mind the trauma I went through in all the schools I've been to. Let's just say that kids aren't very kind to those with unusual names.

Some days are better than others when it comes to my acceptance of it. Some days I would enjoy the idea of there only really being one of me, because no one else has this name. Other days I would say my name over and over to myself, this usually leads to any word sounding weird, doing this with my name leads to despair and lots of alcohol.

I'd googled myself before of course. The very first time I'd used the internet, way before Google had ever existed, I'd looked for another name like mine. Never any luck. So it was in a moment of "it's-almost-time-to-bugger-off-home-and-I'm-bored" that I googled my name again yesterday and suddenly got a small mountain of hits. One very interesting one was a design company in Australia called Alwill. Then I started noticing that all these hits were people with my name as their surname!

I've only just started looking into this, but it would seem that this name has something of the Irish in it, descendant of Allwell or something along those lines. Oh joy upon joy! Finally my name means something! I can actually point to it and say that it is a full blooded name with some history behind it, even though my parents completely made it up in a moment of post-birth euphoria!

But it's still a rare name. So I'm still special. So there.

Broken taillight and weekend ruminations

2010-03-08T09:33:00.000+02:00

So my weekend started off with a colleague backing into my car and smashing my taillight, in the parking lot at work. That's fine, she's been going through a rough time the past couple of months and is absent minded to begin with. I just don't understand how she managed it, her car is on the other side of the parking lot, 2 bays away from me...

The exhibition went well, I just got a red nose from standing in the sun drinking wine. Then we went to some place in Greenside, then we went to another place... It gets a bit blurry after that. What I do remember is getting stuck in a 3 km traffic jam on the highway at 12:00 in the evening. I really hate Gauteng sometimes.

What does have me in a very chipper mood this morning is our impending train trip Cape Town:) Next week this time I will be waking up to the rocking motion of a train with the beautiful Western Cape landscape sliding by outside my window. Can't wait!

Jiraiya

2010-03-05T13:17:00.002+02:00

I've known about this guy's work for a while, but recently rediscovered it. My love for manga and cute guys combined:

I know that technically the above couldn't really be called manga, but I don't know what else to call it. Also, I'm not sure why there is a dog in all of these pictures, let's just put it down to those nutty Japanese and their incredibly bizarre taste in porn and then absolutely do not think about it any further.

I would love to able to get hold of one of his graphic novels, but that's easier said than done. Seeing as how his website is in Japanese I have no idea how one is supposed to get hold of him or his work. Correction, I do know that you can get a book of his artwork from HO editions which is some French publishing company, but can't find them either. Surely it can't be this difficult getting hold of something or someone in the Information Age? Investigations are proceeding.

James, bring me my flamethrower

2010-03-04T10:10:00.002+02:00

What abomination is this?

Where to begin? Just when I thought the Jonas Brothers was the full embodiment of all that could possibly be wrong with corporate owned music, along comes this shrill little hobbit. Turns out this girlie faced 16 year old, who probably doesn't even have one pubic hair yet, is singing about how his first love will always be his baby. Original.

I have this thing about child singers, actors, child whatever. I grew up in the traditional Afrikaans way, i.e. being taught "you must be seen and not heard", and being in adult conversation was seriously discouraged. Of course, now I am all grown up and I am all for kids being wherever the hell they want to be and my partner's nieces and nephews talking with me about chakras and current socio political issues (they are 7 and 10 and 6. kids these days!).

I still have this thing from my childhood though. I grew up in the church, what with my dad being a pastor and everything (that's a whole other story) and the church frequently hosted some or other gospel "artist". Some times these "artists" were children. I hated them with every fiber of my being, simply because they were up there in front of all the adults being the center of attention. They were allowed to be in their conversation and could actually take part in it as well. Of course this made them totally unsuitable for conversation with us children who didn't have the free pass to the adult party. Try to talk to them? Oh noooo! They were simply too good for that. Try to start a conversation with your impressive He-man collection and you would get this pitying yet malevolent glare that said "Get away from me you immature little cockroach!" or worse, they wouldn't even acknowledge your existence. Then their manager/mommy would bustle them off to vicariously live through them some more.

Usually though, these kids have a complete burn out by age 17, go through some hectic drug taking/drinking/sheep-shagging phase and then eventually become born again by 20 and end up touring the country's high schools singing gospel songs while playing the guitar with their eyes closed. And using the word "cool" a lot. I suppose I could feel sorry for them - get over it - but I'm not that big a person.

Besides, they didn't want to look at my He-man. Fuck 'em.

New header

2010-03-03T11:01:00.001+02:00

Just a quick post today. We survived quiz night with minimal casualties and, thanks to our team leader, even managed to score Peroni ice buckets and bottle openers for our finish in second place. That and loads of packets of lube for some reason. Hey, I'm not gonna say no to free lube.

So car is in the shop, hoping for good news soon. I'm at home catching up with some freelance work. Also changed my blog header, thought it a cute photo.

All a-quiver

2010-03-02T13:53:00.001+02:00

Well, I'm feeling mostly human again. Just in time too 'cause tonight is quiz night with the girls at News Cafe. The first and only other quiz night I've ever done was at this bar close to where I stay. It used to be "Purple Lounge" or "Fly Lounge" or something like that, but the area demographics changed. It's now called "Springbok Bar" and is owned by Kurt Darren.

Soul scarring Afrikaans music aside it was a fun experience and I think we won something towards the end of the evening, but for the life of me I can't remember what. Each table makes up a team that gets a sheet of questions that needs to be answered in a series of rounds. Drinking takes place in between, during and sommer all of the time. I have promised myself to take it easy.

Yeah right.

Bloody Mouldering Monday

2010-03-01T09:01:00.001+02:00

So our "everything-in-moderation-from-now-on" plan didn't live to see Friday night. As soon as I got home I got a shandy in one hand and cigarette in the other. I feel a bit guilty that I didn't do some work on Saturday like I said I would the whole week, mainly 'cause I spent the whole week avoiding said work 'cause I though I would have the whole weekend for it. Oh well, it was fun regardless and a major thing that I try to avoid these days is any more baggage.

Two weeks to Cape Town train trip and excitement is mounting! Haven't been on a train in such a long time and nostalgic visions from my rose-tinted childhood train trips keep flooding my senses. Already have two interesting restaurants on the itinerary, Vaudeville Theatre and Pancho's (I know, it's in Obs). If any of you have any other suggestions please let me know, I plan to weigh more than my luggage by the end of the trip;)

This coming weekend is the Artist-currently-known-as-My-Partner's exhibition in Melville. Always an exciting if somewhat nerve wrecking experience, but the wine is free and flows like water while I stand around looking all intellectual and pretending I know something about art. The trick is to use the word "juxtaposition" a lot.

Well let me go and pay some bills. Damn you Monday, you could at least have used some lube.

Gay much?

2010-02-26T08:19:00.001+02:00

I know this has been pointed out before, but look, just look!

"Gee willikers Batman!"

A man, a boy and their spelunking.

Nothing suspicious about this.

None of these are photoshopped as far as I can tell.

Because that's just how fabulous I am!

And I like to think that this is what they would look like in real life.

Rebellion

2010-02-25T10:55:00.001+02:00

Currently driving my car is probably the closest experience I will get to ice skating over a lake of frozen puppies. It leaves me feeling cold and drained and besides which, I don't know how to skate.

I blame the universe for this. I believe that I am a good blameless person most of the time, if a bit neurotic and needy some of the time. I pick up pieces of stray litter, tut-tutting at the carelessness of some people. I spare a thought for the homeless person, wondering where they sleep and what their life must be like and how lucky I am that that's not me. I have my car's oil and water checked every time I fill up, along with the tire pressure, done according to the instructions in the booklet. I have it filled up with the right kind of petrol for the altitude I am currently driving on. I care for it, since it's my car and she gets me places.

Then what happens? Some soulless, careless, sorry excuse for a human being goes and fills my car with leaded petrol. It's kind of like someone taking a horse that you have carefully raised and groomed over the years and force feeding it large amounts of gristle made from new born puppies. This makes me unhappy.

I suppose this could be a very expensive lesson in "always-check-that-he's-really-filling-up-with-unleaded", but you know what: I'm a busy person. I have thoughts to explore and fantasies to fulfill. I have needs. I can't be expected to look after another person completely unrelated to my frame of reference, to make sure he/she is doing their job. That's why I blame the universe. Obviously it did something to this creature to make him wake up that day and decide to be a dick, filling unleaded cars with leaded, diesel bakkies with syrup and washing windscreens with his own urine.

So I blame you universe and just for that one I will no longer be picking up stray bits of litter, I will laugh at homeless people while thinking that that could never be me and I will aim my stuttering wreck of a once wonderful car at old people on walkers. So there.