So, let me begin by saying that I'm not gonna say I was drinking (alcohol) and I'm not gonna say that I wasn't either. Great way to start a story huh.... You just know that this is gonna be tasty, so hopefully I don't disappoint - and if I do then tough, deal with it.
I was at our friendly Woolies down the road getting a few, according to my pregnant wife, essentials like caramel cupcakes, plums, fudge and caramel spread... go figure. I've learned, especially during her first pregnancy, not even think about justifying their particular delicacy cravings. It's like their latent PMS has somehow developed into a hormonal ESP.
So, I get the "essentials" and make my way towards the car. Once I get to the car I find myself a little stumped... Is this my car or did I park somewhere else? Yes, it is my car that is beautifully snuggled in between this left-hand drive Mustang (definitely an import job) and a VW Toureg SUV. Now, when I say snuggled, what I really mean is crammed between them without the possibility of parole. This car was at most 10cm next to the Mustang on the left and 15cm next to the Toureg on the right. I gave the Mustang the benefit of the doubt because it was a left-hand drive, and having totalled a LFD previously, I realise that it's not as easy driving this type of car as it seems, but there was no excuse for the owner of the Toureg.
Given the situation I did the next natural thing, I scouted for the car guard who was always there pointing out the obvious. I mean these guys are absolutely useless. They point to an open parking once you're within one and half meters from the open bay and give you parking instructions like you're about to park a Boeing 747 in a space that would only fit a Hot Wheels micro car. I mean WTF! I'm pretty sure that I've got a drivers license that confirms if not implies that I am able to park a vehicle in a normal alley docking scenario. WTF!
Also, doesn't the designation car guard mean that he/she is a fucking guard for the car. When did they all of a sudden get promoted to those airplane parking attendants with the glow in the dark table tennis bats. I guess I missed that memo.
Another thing that pisses me off about these so called car guards is that when something does happen to you car, like a break in or theft, God forbid that one, of the fifteen that were present when you parked you car, can be found to offer any help even if it were only to describe the guys that broke into or stole your car.
Anyway, after reconnoitering the nearest guard, I asked him what's happened and his response was that he pointed out to the owner of the SUV the err of his ways but was told to "Fuck off!"
Now I could just wait for the irritating twat that's prevented me from entering my car via the doors or windows (yes, I considered the windows as well) or I could improvise. I choose the latter. Realising a window of opportunity, I took it immediately without further thought. I have one of those cars that allows you to unlock the doors and open up the windows at a double-click and hold of a button (something that took me 10 years to find out, and even then it was by accident). Once I had unlocked all the doors and opened up the windows, I set my "groceries" down on the roof of my car and began climbing onto the hood of the Toureg making my way up to the car's roof. Once in this heightened position, I danced a little jig of accomplishment leaving a few indents on the SUV's uppermost exterior.
Next, I carefully hopped over to my car, grabbed my parcels and slid down into the interior via the open sunroof. Wooohooo! Betcha didn't think of that. Betcha also didn't think of the 3 neanderthal-looking occupants of the car that came running towards me as I sailed into the drivers seat. I mean these guys looked like the missing link. If the size of the one giant's fist (I'm assuming the owner of the Toureg) as he waved it in the air, mouthing out profanities whilst steam whistled out his head and spittle out his mouth, wasn't scary enough, the mere fact that there were three of these slightly irate individuals closing in on me made consider whether my adventurous mini-rebellion was really the option I should've taken.
Those that know me know that I can handle myself in a physical altercation and that I don't back down from a fights easily, so I did what any other fighter with experience would do in a scenario like this. I shifted into gear, slammed my foot down on the gas and hightailed it outta there with my tail between my legs. I live approximately 3 minutes and 17 seconds from this particular Woolworths Food outlet but the journey home took me just over 20 minutes. Somewhere from the back of my mind surfaced a useful titbit I picked up in the days of yore, the fact that if you serpentine they won't getcha. And that's exactly what I did. I bobbed and weaved and serpentined the 22 minutes home.
So now, a few days later, and they still haven't got me. But if by some miracle, the aforementioned primates are reading this, then allow me this last statement: maybe you should stop swinging on vines and learn how to park properly like normal humans do before you muttonheads wanna tango with the likes of me. PS. Eat shit and die... mofos!
On a more personal note: God, please don't let them find me.
So, until my next post, take it easy. And if you get it easy, take it again.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Family reunions
So I promised my cousins, that this post would be about them, but it's actually gonna be about how good it was seeing them again after so long.
A little while ago I went up to Johannesburg to see family and friends that I've not seen in a long time. It was absolutely brilliant spending time with them. We reminisced and laughed and basically had a good time. It's amazing how a few hours of drink over the idea of a braai can do wonders for the soul. I say the idea of a braai, because by the time we'd all arrived there, all the braaing was done. Not because we didn't want to be there in time or that some of us were fashionably late but because it took us 3 and a half fucking hours to get there by car in what should have been a 45 minute drive at the most.
Johannesburg's road systems have always, in humble opinion, been terribly but this last visit was absolutely nightmarish. I had only been out once the entire week I was there but the time spent in the car on that one trip was enough for the entire time I was there and perhaps the next visit as well. Some say that this is all due to the FIFA World Cup 2010 preparations that are underway but these "upgrades" have been in the works since even before we won the lottery to host this soccer sensational event but I say irrespective, this momentous period in South African history is going to be an event that pushes peoples sanity to the limit. I'm sure that most, if not all, South Africans will put up with this schlep of note just to be a part of history in the making but what about the foreigners who are supposed to be arriving in hoards to experience and support a sport that they are extremely passionate about. Regardless of the crime rate, HIV rate and all the other deterring facets that hinder foreigners from visiting our beautiful country, I believe that those who do visit this event will have a bitter taste left in their mouths well after this momentous gathering is over.
But alas, I digress. Even though I had to put up with the 3 and a half hours of bumper to bumper, stop every three minutes, and promise-blowjobs-in-order-to-get-a-gap-in-the-next-lane torture, the reunion of friends and family was well worth it. It was interesting to see how the paths of my peers had turned out for them . Some had gotten married, some are getting married and some I fear will never marry (sorry cuz). But regardless of the marital status it's comforting to see how they have grown into adults with responsibilities etc, and how they've survived their own hardships and deal with their current dilemas.
Being with my family and friends for these special few hours have kind of put my life into perspective and I'd wish for all those that are in a quandary to spend a few productive hours with family and friends. It's amazing at what you walk away with. Mind you, not all that you walk away with is pleasant, some may be downright disgusting, example: having your female cousin imply that she is "very good" at certain bedroom antics. WTF! Talk about TMI! If possible I'd wash my memory with soap and disinfective but unfortunately this will be a memory that haunts me till I die... which at this point, after hearing it, might just be a plausible solution to eradicate this memory from cognitive thoughts.
Anyway, I would like to thank my family and friends for an awesome time spent with them and hope that we can do it again in the near future on a happy note and not at funerals or weddings that we somehow always do. Thanks guys.
On this note, I'd also like to highlight my appreciation to 3 of my cousins that accompanied me home on the return trip. Your non-stop arguing and bickering with each other over the most trivial shit ever, was very amusing and interesting indeed. If ever given the option to choose between accompanying you guys on a long trip again or having a root canal performed by blood thirsty student dentist with the passion of a clown at a funeral... let's just say that it would be a hard decision to make.
Oh by the way, here's a tip if ever you are stuck in a passenger seat of a vehicle that is unfortunately a prisoner of Jozzie's roads: Have at least a dozen Klippies & Colas along for the ride.... and NOT the cans but rather the bottles 'coz all that Klippies & Colas gotta go somewhere and I seriously doubt pulling over to the side of the roady during traffic congestion is going to be a viable option, unless of course you'd prefer one of your more intimate bathroom moments, that no one should ever see, be uploaded to YouTube.
So, until my next post, take it easy. And if you get it easy, take it again.
A little while ago I went up to Johannesburg to see family and friends that I've not seen in a long time. It was absolutely brilliant spending time with them. We reminisced and laughed and basically had a good time. It's amazing how a few hours of drink over the idea of a braai can do wonders for the soul. I say the idea of a braai, because by the time we'd all arrived there, all the braaing was done. Not because we didn't want to be there in time or that some of us were fashionably late but because it took us 3 and a half fucking hours to get there by car in what should have been a 45 minute drive at the most.
Johannesburg's road systems have always, in humble opinion, been terribly but this last visit was absolutely nightmarish. I had only been out once the entire week I was there but the time spent in the car on that one trip was enough for the entire time I was there and perhaps the next visit as well. Some say that this is all due to the FIFA World Cup 2010 preparations that are underway but these "upgrades" have been in the works since even before we won the lottery to host this soccer sensational event but I say irrespective, this momentous period in South African history is going to be an event that pushes peoples sanity to the limit. I'm sure that most, if not all, South Africans will put up with this schlep of note just to be a part of history in the making but what about the foreigners who are supposed to be arriving in hoards to experience and support a sport that they are extremely passionate about. Regardless of the crime rate, HIV rate and all the other deterring facets that hinder foreigners from visiting our beautiful country, I believe that those who do visit this event will have a bitter taste left in their mouths well after this momentous gathering is over.
But alas, I digress. Even though I had to put up with the 3 and a half hours of bumper to bumper, stop every three minutes, and promise-blowjobs-in-order-to-get-a-gap-in-the-next-lane torture, the reunion of friends and family was well worth it. It was interesting to see how the paths of my peers had turned out for them . Some had gotten married, some are getting married and some I fear will never marry (sorry cuz). But regardless of the marital status it's comforting to see how they have grown into adults with responsibilities etc, and how they've survived their own hardships and deal with their current dilemas.
Being with my family and friends for these special few hours have kind of put my life into perspective and I'd wish for all those that are in a quandary to spend a few productive hours with family and friends. It's amazing at what you walk away with. Mind you, not all that you walk away with is pleasant, some may be downright disgusting, example: having your female cousin imply that she is "very good" at certain bedroom antics. WTF! Talk about TMI! If possible I'd wash my memory with soap and disinfective but unfortunately this will be a memory that haunts me till I die... which at this point, after hearing it, might just be a plausible solution to eradicate this memory from cognitive thoughts.
Anyway, I would like to thank my family and friends for an awesome time spent with them and hope that we can do it again in the near future on a happy note and not at funerals or weddings that we somehow always do. Thanks guys.
On this note, I'd also like to highlight my appreciation to 3 of my cousins that accompanied me home on the return trip. Your non-stop arguing and bickering with each other over the most trivial shit ever, was very amusing and interesting indeed. If ever given the option to choose between accompanying you guys on a long trip again or having a root canal performed by blood thirsty student dentist with the passion of a clown at a funeral... let's just say that it would be a hard decision to make.
Oh by the way, here's a tip if ever you are stuck in a passenger seat of a vehicle that is unfortunately a prisoner of Jozzie's roads: Have at least a dozen Klippies & Colas along for the ride.... and NOT the cans but rather the bottles 'coz all that Klippies & Colas gotta go somewhere and I seriously doubt pulling over to the side of the roady during traffic congestion is going to be a viable option, unless of course you'd prefer one of your more intimate bathroom moments, that no one should ever see, be uploaded to YouTube.
So, until my next post, take it easy. And if you get it easy, take it again.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Ahhhh, those good ol' memories
So, isn't it amazing what memories we remember and our reactions to the catalysts of those memories?
I remember, quite vividly in fact, the moment my wife announced that she was pregnant, with our first child. It was like a smack to the side of my head... Wait a minute, it WAS a smack to the side of my head. It was around 6 'o clock in the morning, (and I'm not what you might call an early riser, in fact I've been know to wake up just in time for bed), and I was sound asleep when out of nowhere there was this thunderous crash just above and on my left ear.
Now, living in South Africa, one tends to be over paranoid due to the violent crime rate that keeps fighting for the number one spot with the HIV rate. So anyway, the first thought that rushed through my head was, "Oh shit! We are becoming a statistic of the numerous home invasions that has recently increased in my neighbourhood." Well, actually the thought was a bit more colourful than that but I've been told that my blog holds quite a bit of profanity so I'm holding back a smidgeon. Once I believed that it was a house breaking turned possibly who knows what, I thought "Oh no! My Playstation... my games... my DVD collection.... err.... my wife," not that this is how I prioritise that which is dear to me ;)
It was the, then bitter tone that my wife used, even though that up until today she still disputes it, that brought me out of my trance-like state of sleepiness and morbid fear to realise that she was speaking to me.
"Huh?" I replied.
"I said, look at what you've done to me!" (minus the whack)
Given that I'd just woken up from my sound slumber and that it was 6 in the morning, it took me a few seconds to realise that she was holding something in her hand. No, it was not a frying pan like some of you from the peanut gallery may suggest. It was in fact a home pregnancy test that held two little powder blue parallel lines in one of the two boxes. I would have to say that at this moment I was 82.7% excited but the remaining 17.3% (yes, it does add up to 100 - I checked) was like, "Does it mean positive or negative?" and "Which one's good - positive or negative?" Bear in mind that I did say I live in South Africa where the HIV rate is quite high so forgive me for asking the question. Anyway, it was the good positive and not the positive where is it's actually negative.
Back to my senses now, and all I could do was scream, at 6 o' clock in the morning (my neighbours probably thought that this was a home invasion gone bad by the loud wail that sounded like an owl on ecstacy), "Whooohooo! My soldiers work!" I kissed my wife, saying "You're welcome," and ran to double-check the instructions on the box. I was excited beyond belief. Called in a sick day at work, got ready and went for the blood test immediately even though I knew I'm gonna be a daddy.
Anyway, that is what I remember about finding out that I was a father to be for the first time.
To those that are reading this and questioning yourselves about the previous line... Yes, I'm gonna be a daddy again. Whoooohoooo x2! And FUCK YEAH, my soldiers still work!
Tthe memories related to the second time I found out that I was gonna be a daddy again, was very similar to that of the first... well except for the smack to my head.... and the thoughts of breaking and entering gone wrong.... and the potential loss of my Playstation, games, DVD collection and...errr... wife.... and the questioning of the two powder blue parallel lines..... okay okay, it was completely different but that will be another post entirely.
So, until my next post, take it easy. And if you get it easy, take it again.
I remember, quite vividly in fact, the moment my wife announced that she was pregnant, with our first child. It was like a smack to the side of my head... Wait a minute, it WAS a smack to the side of my head. It was around 6 'o clock in the morning, (and I'm not what you might call an early riser, in fact I've been know to wake up just in time for bed), and I was sound asleep when out of nowhere there was this thunderous crash just above and on my left ear.
Now, living in South Africa, one tends to be over paranoid due to the violent crime rate that keeps fighting for the number one spot with the HIV rate. So anyway, the first thought that rushed through my head was, "Oh shit! We are becoming a statistic of the numerous home invasions that has recently increased in my neighbourhood." Well, actually the thought was a bit more colourful than that but I've been told that my blog holds quite a bit of profanity so I'm holding back a smidgeon. Once I believed that it was a house breaking turned possibly who knows what, I thought "Oh no! My Playstation... my games... my DVD collection.... err.... my wife," not that this is how I prioritise that which is dear to me ;)
It was the, then bitter tone that my wife used, even though that up until today she still disputes it, that brought me out of my trance-like state of sleepiness and morbid fear to realise that she was speaking to me.
"Huh?" I replied.
"I said, look at what you've done to me!" (minus the whack)
Given that I'd just woken up from my sound slumber and that it was 6 in the morning, it took me a few seconds to realise that she was holding something in her hand. No, it was not a frying pan like some of you from the peanut gallery may suggest. It was in fact a home pregnancy test that held two little powder blue parallel lines in one of the two boxes. I would have to say that at this moment I was 82.7% excited but the remaining 17.3% (yes, it does add up to 100 - I checked) was like, "Does it mean positive or negative?" and "Which one's good - positive or negative?" Bear in mind that I did say I live in South Africa where the HIV rate is quite high so forgive me for asking the question. Anyway, it was the good positive and not the positive where is it's actually negative.
Back to my senses now, and all I could do was scream, at 6 o' clock in the morning (my neighbours probably thought that this was a home invasion gone bad by the loud wail that sounded like an owl on ecstacy), "Whooohooo! My soldiers work!" I kissed my wife, saying "You're welcome," and ran to double-check the instructions on the box. I was excited beyond belief. Called in a sick day at work, got ready and went for the blood test immediately even though I knew I'm gonna be a daddy.
Anyway, that is what I remember about finding out that I was a father to be for the first time.
To those that are reading this and questioning yourselves about the previous line... Yes, I'm gonna be a daddy again. Whoooohoooo x2! And FUCK YEAH, my soldiers still work!
Tthe memories related to the second time I found out that I was gonna be a daddy again, was very similar to that of the first... well except for the smack to my head.... and the thoughts of breaking and entering gone wrong.... and the potential loss of my Playstation, games, DVD collection and...errr... wife.... and the questioning of the two powder blue parallel lines..... okay okay, it was completely different but that will be another post entirely.
So, until my next post, take it easy. And if you get it easy, take it again.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Daddy's little girl
So my two year old baby girl, the apple of my eye, the most beautiful and intelligent girl in the world, asks me "Daddy, can I go out with a boy?"
Now, in a fraction of the second, just after she completed the sentence, I realised that her mother put her up to this just to invoke a reaction from me for her own personal amusement. So I was determined not to give my wife the satisfaction she so desired. Within a few more fractions, I swallowed hard and pondered my response. I had already planned what I was going to say if this question ever arose.
I'd like to think that I'm one of these cool and funky fathers that will have all the correct answers he'd need to ensure that the relationship between his daughter and himself will never deteriorate because of some over-protective, shoot-any-boy-that-comes-asking-for-my-daughter urge that I usually succumb to. And so far, things were good. So with the last most minute fraction of the second, I bolstered my own negative feelings aside and began to answer her question.
"That's okay Angel, when you're older and seriously like a boy, provided that your mother agrees, and that you act accordingly to all our instructions and conditions, I see no problem with you going out with a boy."
Sound good huh? Something to be proud of, for a first time father. I should have won the "Best Daddy Ever" award for that one. Unfortunately, the words that uttered out of my mouth were, "Absolutely Not! The only way you'll go out with a snot nosed little pisser is over my dead body! I absolutely forbid it!"
It was at this time I could hear muffled laughter from the lounge where my wife and little one were co-horting. "Doh!" as "Homer" says, was the only thought that ran through my mind. I had failed, and given my wife the exact reaction she was looking for and I didn't live up to the image I was trying to portray to my little girl. So trying to hide my shame I walk into the lounge with my head lowered waiting for all the heckling to begin however was taken totally by surprise by my daughter's next question.
"Why?"
Good, I realised. Here's my chance to rectify the situation. To be the father I hoped I'd be. To be able to live up to the man some fathers hoped their little girls see. What to say now? How do I spin it my way? I'm good at this, I can do it.
"Why?! Why?! Because I said so! That's why!" WTF? Not too often to you get the chance to rectify many situations in life and when the fates hand me a moment of opportunity, what do I do, dig my already six foot grave even deeper. I give up.
Now with all that's been said and done I realise that she as yet does not understand the questions, answers and associated difficulties with these types of questions, and for that I'm thankful, 'coz if she were a teenager and this was how I'd handled it, it would definitely not been over. Well at least I've got a decade and a bit to better prepare myself.
Just thinking about this whole episode got me thinking about what if my daughter were my son. Would I have acted the same way? I seriously doubt it. If anything I'd probably take him out shopping to buy him his very first condom. Tell him about the birds and the bees, and not in the way some parents do like "When a man and woman love each other very much..." I thinks that pure bullshit and will not let my boy learn about life from some fairy-tale perspective of life. I'd get him some porn and let him know that getting your freaky on is not only about idyllic reproduction but its about fulfilling man's need to hunt, or some shit like that - If I really knew the answer to that question, life as I know it would've been completely different.
Alas, I don't know the answer to that question and my son is really my daughter (not in some soap opera kinda way), so I'lldo what every loving father would. I'd tell her the fairy-tale and pray that she only questions it's truth when she's in her forties.
So, until my next post, take it easy. And if you get it easy, take it again.
Now, in a fraction of the second, just after she completed the sentence, I realised that her mother put her up to this just to invoke a reaction from me for her own personal amusement. So I was determined not to give my wife the satisfaction she so desired. Within a few more fractions, I swallowed hard and pondered my response. I had already planned what I was going to say if this question ever arose.
I'd like to think that I'm one of these cool and funky fathers that will have all the correct answers he'd need to ensure that the relationship between his daughter and himself will never deteriorate because of some over-protective, shoot-any-boy-that-comes-asking-for-my-daughter urge that I usually succumb to. And so far, things were good. So with the last most minute fraction of the second, I bolstered my own negative feelings aside and began to answer her question.
"That's okay Angel, when you're older and seriously like a boy, provided that your mother agrees, and that you act accordingly to all our instructions and conditions, I see no problem with you going out with a boy."
Sound good huh? Something to be proud of, for a first time father. I should have won the "Best Daddy Ever" award for that one. Unfortunately, the words that uttered out of my mouth were, "Absolutely Not! The only way you'll go out with a snot nosed little pisser is over my dead body! I absolutely forbid it!"
It was at this time I could hear muffled laughter from the lounge where my wife and little one were co-horting. "Doh!" as "Homer" says, was the only thought that ran through my mind. I had failed, and given my wife the exact reaction she was looking for and I didn't live up to the image I was trying to portray to my little girl. So trying to hide my shame I walk into the lounge with my head lowered waiting for all the heckling to begin however was taken totally by surprise by my daughter's next question.
"Why?"
Good, I realised. Here's my chance to rectify the situation. To be the father I hoped I'd be. To be able to live up to the man some fathers hoped their little girls see. What to say now? How do I spin it my way? I'm good at this, I can do it.
"Why?! Why?! Because I said so! That's why!" WTF? Not too often to you get the chance to rectify many situations in life and when the fates hand me a moment of opportunity, what do I do, dig my already six foot grave even deeper. I give up.
Now with all that's been said and done I realise that she as yet does not understand the questions, answers and associated difficulties with these types of questions, and for that I'm thankful, 'coz if she were a teenager and this was how I'd handled it, it would definitely not been over. Well at least I've got a decade and a bit to better prepare myself.
Just thinking about this whole episode got me thinking about what if my daughter were my son. Would I have acted the same way? I seriously doubt it. If anything I'd probably take him out shopping to buy him his very first condom. Tell him about the birds and the bees, and not in the way some parents do like "When a man and woman love each other very much..." I thinks that pure bullshit and will not let my boy learn about life from some fairy-tale perspective of life. I'd get him some porn and let him know that getting your freaky on is not only about idyllic reproduction but its about fulfilling man's need to hunt, or some shit like that - If I really knew the answer to that question, life as I know it would've been completely different.
Alas, I don't know the answer to that question and my son is really my daughter (not in some soap opera kinda way), so I'lldo what every loving father would. I'd tell her the fairy-tale and pray that she only questions it's truth when she's in her forties.
So, until my next post, take it easy. And if you get it easy, take it again.
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