Death to Mimmos – Had a pizza at the Rosebank branch and have been ill ever since.

Absolutely shitty weekend – no pun intended. Stayed in bed the entire time nursing my cronic stomach pains.

The entire weekend was spent looking at the ceiling.

I did manage to muster the energy to move downstairs and watch some tv on Sunday – about the most exciting thing I got up to this weekend.

But its Tuesday and I feel good again, back at work and getting ready to through caution to the wind and have a banging weekend.

But its only Tuesday :(

3 more sleeps to go!

Finally I get a bit of time to write a decent blog. Been a rather eventful few days – Drove the new Audi at exhilarating speeds around the Kyalami track, gave 100k to a white hill billy in Vanderbijl – the culmination of a campaign I have been working on for a while, did a film shoot in the heart of Eldorado Park. The road to Eldorado is by no means laced with gold – thanks Disney!

On a more serious note though something has been plaguing my mind for a while now and I need to get it off my chest.

When I was at Varsity I took a subject called development studies, why? ‘Cause I was told it was an easy course and one was sure to score good marks – in reality it was hectically boring but at some points rather insightful. Towards the end of my final year we were having a debate in the class – for the life of me I can not remember what I said but a black girl – extremely well dressed and impeccably spoken stood up and responded in saying “ You white bastards made me live in exile, away from my family during my teenage years”. I was quite taken a back by this – being form the school where I was too young to have lived through the harshness of apartheid I felt rather offended. I responded by saying “My mother is from Scotland and my Father the UK, they immigrated here 5 years before I was born, surely you can not generalise so much”.

I thought about it for a while and asked myself perhaps not saying anything is as bad as agreeing with the regime. But can you blame them – having a small child, the threat of being rejected by one’s community – could you blame them, would I do the same? I don’t know. It takes a special kind of hero to do that.

I voiced my feelings to the Hoff and his folks one evening at their house. I had always suspected that they were hippies in Varsity and had always maintained a completely non racial attitude throughout the years. Johnny Clegg is Hoff’s God father for fuck sakes, but I never realised how involved they actually were. They rallied in the townships – an offence that would see any white person being locked up immediately, their phones were tapped, and they were constantly watched and followed. Although they did not have to carry pass books their lives were lived in constant fear.

So 1994 comes and goes and we move onto a democratic society. Hoff finishes matric and receives 4 distinctions moves onto Uni and gets his BCom Accounts. He sent out his CV and battled to find a place to do his articles. He could not get in with any of the big five and whilst they loved him he was quite blatantly told it was due to the colour of his skin.

So his parents were ridiculed, shunned and their personal lives under constant watch because they disagreed with the mistakes of the previous government all in order so that their son can’t find a job – even with an array of degrees because of the colour of his skin? That’s not right!

I admit there are many unsung heroes of the struggle but I do believe that some sort of recognition should be given to the people of other races who played an active role.

Upon further investigation I have realised they were not allow and have met an array of other people in a similar situation.

I really feel strongly about this and would love to create a documentary about this. Hope fully to clean up the mindset of that girl in Varsity and others like her, who have the nerve to generalise without understanding.

Have had a rather hectic day - off to the launch of the Audi RS4 now - I get to test drive the beast. Peas eat your heart out !

Seeing that friendship has been a massive factor on my mind recently I thought that this was rather appropriate.

Friendship between Women:

A woman didn't come home one night. The next day she told her
husband that she had slept over at a friend's house. The man
called his wife's 10 best friends. None of them knew about it.

Friendship between Men:

A man didn't come home one night. The next day he told his
wife that he had slept over at a friend's house.
The woman called her husband's 10 best friends.
Eight of them confirmed that he had slept
over, and two claimed that he was still there.

Got this on email today - thought I would share...

With all the sadness and trauma going on in the world at the moment, it is worth reflecting on the death of a very important person, which almost went unnoticed last week.
Larry LaPrise, the man that wrote "The Hokey Pokey" died peacefully at the age of 93.
The most traumatic part for his family was getting him into the coffin. --- They put his left leg in. And then the trouble started.

N was actually rather civil at the Hoff’s birthday party... she even gave me a kiss hello. But I am still weary I have walked this path too many times before. Hoff seems to be happy – thank God. They have been dating for 7 years now – through Varsity and into the working world and they have never permanently lived together. Hoff’s parents are magic – live in a massive house in Westcliff of which the whole bottom section is his. I don’t actually blame him for staying at home. But all good things must come to an end and the Hoff’s parents are retiring to KZN. So they are moving in together – I am quite excited – it’s make it or break it time. I really want to see my friend happy but I don’t believe that she is the right women for him.

So how does one know? I don’t believe in love at first sight, but what I quest for is too answer the criteria that a person must fill to be regarded as the one. Must they be intellectually stimulating? Obviously you must be attracted to them. Can one be content in a relationship but rely on their friends for intellectual stimulation?

Need sometime to mull over it a bit more ….

Had a few bottles of scotch at the party … and decided to shake some ass (whilst I love music the urge of dancing was worn out through my continual Sunday danceathons at the old ESP) The urge has set in – off to Taboo – had some friends doing a set there. Realised why I don’t like clubbing that much anymore – R17 a savannah , daylight robbery. I do understand that the club needs to make a profit but at 68 bucks for a double jack and coke, they can go fuck themselves!

Had a jol anyway…

Morgan spent the weekend at Granny so I had sometime off yesterday. She dropped him off in the wee hour’s this morning. Quickly put him in bed with me where we both slept till 8. I really believe that I have baby proofed my house however while I was in the shower he managed to grab a ring of the table and swallow it. I was watching him through the shower door when I noticed that something was wrong. The ring was blocking his airway – I jumped out of the shower and pulled the ring out. I am actually impressed that I did everything so naturally. The first aid course I did, yet again paid off. Managed to stabilised him and everything seemed to be fine.

Driving to work and the events of the morning kicked in. I feel shite – he is the light of my life. Everything is fine – but it makes me think how precious life is and how quickly something can go wrong.

It’s his fist birthday soon – saw a car bed on Sat, it’s really wicked. Going to get it for him!

Squash was fun, I am sore in places that I never knew existed. Feel like the Hilton sisters got hold of me.

Going to Hoff’s birthday party on Saturday – have to deal with his evil other. I really don’t know what injustice I have done that woman but she seems to despise me. When they got engaged – I laid it on, massive dinner all the bells and whistles. Cost me the equivalent of Zimbabwe’s national budget. She didn’t even send me a thank you.

Maybe it’s the fact that after a cocktail party at my house last year I reversed out of my garage not to see that she had parked her new polo behind me. Oops ! wasn’t even that drunk. Drove the bull bar of my 4x4 into the back of her new car – honestly left a dent the size of a golf ball. She got out of the car and swore at me the way a Capey swears her husband for finishing the Autum harvest. I professed my sincerest apologies and paid a whopping 6k to remove the dent – she took it to the most expensive place imaginable. Out of spite I imagine. Bitch didn’t even send a thank you ! Hoff agreed she was out of line.

She didn’t speak to me for months – until one evening she arrived with him to a braai at my house. I am tired of licking her arse. The only reason I ever entertained the idea was to keep the peace. Hoff is a long time friend of mine and I am to be the best man at his wedding. I will not let her ruin our friendship if it’s the last thing I do.

Have a wicked weekend !

Hectic Day loads of pitches – haven’t had anytime to fart let alone contemplate the meaning of important issues affecting my life for my blog. Playing squash with Brewster this evening …should be interesting. Last time I picked up a racket was yonks ago.

Met Brewster and his chick for a drink last night she suggested the idea of how the universe constantly slaps us with energy and we don’t have a chance to connect or download with the earth as we rarely let our feet touch the soil. Wearing rubber soled shoes and walking on carpets and tiles. So if anyone is up to the challenge – roll in the soil everyday for a few minutes and let me know if you feel any better.

Later,

Anotherwhiteboy

Common Courtesy goes along way.

A few weeks ago I became another statistic and had my cell phone stolen. Although to a large extent it was self-inflicted, the result was a happy ending.

I met a few mates for a drink after work one evening at the local. As the evening progressed and the jack started flowing we decided that it would be a great idea to drive down to the one of the recent concerts that was happening in Durban the next morning. I had been given a couple of vip tickets for the DBN show by a client and having attended the Pretoria gig where we were treated like royalty it was decided that the pros far outweighed the cons. So everyone parted ways off to their houses to pack a bag – the idea was that I would drive around and fetch everyone and we would be on our merry way. Throwing caution to the wind I packed my sleeping bag – and a few clothes plus any alcoholic beverage within my grasp, which by the by was mainly peppermint liquor, sambucca and a few drops of scotch – aka major Vomit Comet.

And then the rain started … everyone started sobering up – and all of a sudden our road trip 5 hour drive and no where to crash dreams were not so appealing anymore.

So off to Billys for us – A couple of those Call me a Cab’s and we were back in gear. Now I enjoy the female form as much as the next guy – but strip clubs have never proven to be much of a major attraction to me. Giving a Russian bimbo 300 bucks to gyrate her hips on my crotch whilst she is pretending to be mildly interested in my name seems like a waste of a vacuum cleaner.

--- Side track ---- My Vacuum theory

Straight out of Varsity I was sharing a flat with a mate – we had loads of hand me downs and were scrambling to kit ourselves out with the amenities required to survive. My mate enjoyed his nose candy and one Sunday after a hectic weekend – as it does ... his post drugging depression set in. I was trying to be the voice of reason and told him how it was such a waste of money. Next thing an ad for some cheesy retail store came on and they were advertising a special on vacuum cleaners exactly 300 bucks - the price of any nigerian's finest – so naturally I said “dude every time you do it, its like sticking a vacuum cleaner up your nose”. The comparison worked and he seriously cut down. The Vacuum cleaner theory has stuck.

--- Back to my story ---

So one of the lads, lets call him LB got the great idea to visit the new strip-club that has opened in Randburg – Lolly pops or something like wise. So off we go, after 20 minutes the novelty wore off and the “love you long times” had got the message --- I would have made shylock proud ! The other lads were blowing money like George Bush on a “peace keeping campaign”. They decided to disprove my theory and paid some skanky bitch to take me into the lap dance area. Well nothing new here – danced for exactly two songs – pretended to be getting off on me and then pissed off. Fucking Wasted Vacuum cleaner.
Eventually the lads decided that enough was enough and we left. I was on my way home when I thought I would check my phone – and guess what – no phone!

Now I had worn my jacket the whole evening – besides the lap dance – where it was firmly positioned on the chair behind me. Now the stripper had given me her phone number for what I really don’t know – the last person I would every wish to hook up with is a stripper.

So I called her and asked if she had my phone – to which she replied “I make enough money and don’t need to take other peoples things” – Whatever. So I blacklisted the phone and that was that.

So I called my network provider and began the long and drawn out process of reporting a stolen phone and claiming insurance. After visiting the police station 45 minutes of filling out documents and 3 weeks wait the insurance company called me to tell me my claim had been approved. In order to stay ahead of the game I had already visited the cell shop and scouted out replacement models.

I receive another call from the network provider to say that they would be sending through a list of phones available as my replacement. Get the list, of three and they are all crappy dead end models. So I chatted to the guy telling him how disappointed I was in the selection available – he said it was beyond his control and what phone had I selected. So I went for the Samsung, he says ok I’ll call you on Friday. Pissed off in the supposed incompetency I could not understand why I had to wait till Friday to process the claim.

Friday he calls to tell me that they have just run out of the model I had requested and would have to send me the new Samsung D8 – whatever. Lucky me !

Next day my phone arrives and I am as happy as a pig in shit.

So the point of my story – BE NICE TO PEOPLE IT GETS YOU STUFF!

Thought I would be a wise ass this morning and get to work early. Up at 6 - out the house at 6:45 and arrive at work at 8: 20 - The same time I arrive when I leave at 8 so -Fuck that...I will not succumb to such stupidity again.

Anyways it gave me a bit of time to think;

I always thought the worst job in the world was being a waiter - you take other peoples shit for measly pay and suffer the fate of having your feet clad with blisters.

But I have decide that there is a worst job. The people that hold the boom at a film shoot. As the hierarchy dicates you are at the bottom of the film crew food chain and not only that you arms need to be extended holding the boom for the duration of the shoot. Furthermore your suffering has to be in total silence for fear of ruining a shot. This must all be done whilst mirroing the camera man and ensuring that not only yours but also that his feet do not get caught up in the wires.

Bloody shite ! My hat comes off to you slaves of the film industry.

Then my thoughts got sidetracked to the boobs of the bombshell in the car next to me - I grossly admit I am a typical full blooded male - and for that I shall not apologise !