SLXS needs drug rehab

Has anybody been noticing that the ad's on this site are all about drug rehab? God, it's totally whack. Am I that bad? What's wrong with the odd bit of Tik out of my parents front door's light bulb?

ARE DRUGS A CRIME?!!!

Somebody, please tell me if they are, because then I'm sorry.

Cocaine is one hell of a drug, but does it warrant every ad on my site being about crack and whores and crystal meth and waking up naked next to a dead deer only to find a cricket bat that has been broken in half lying on your stomach while a midget in a gimp suit tickles your toes with a feather while wearing a mink coat?

Shit I'm emotional today

Bobbie Thomas

While I was watching E! Entertainment now, Bobbie Thomas, senior editor of In Style Weekly came on and blew my mind. I have seen her before but never gave her a mention.

She is a goddess walking amongst us mere mortals. Honestly, she is so smoking hot I'm finding it hard to type. Not many people know of her because she does not whore herself like the other celebrities do.

Now the photo above is a perfect example of her fineness. If I just had to Photoshop fuckhead next to her out of the picture, it would go nicely into the wank bank(Jokes! Or was that a joke...bizarre)

So I just thought that I should let you all know of Bobbie Thomas. She is way under rated, seems pretty cool and if you make her popular enough we will see in her Playboy anytime soon. Nice!

Bobbie, you're a goddess.

I love you

I want to marry you

I will pay your bills

Sorry I'm getting WAY too emotional here, I need to go now

Hollywood is a fuck fest

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This women is fucked in the head

I love that headline

There is an article in the YOU magazine(Not mine, naturally) and it's about dogs and giving them special treats. The article starts off as follows:

Riff-Raff's mouth starts to water as he talks about his food(This article was already starting to lose me over here-Sean) “I love boiled chicken, not overdone, on rice with vegetables,” the five year old Husky says.”Green beans, carrots and butternut. I'm not mad about dog biscuits. Roast beef-that's my favourite.”

Riff Raff belongs to Jenny Shone of Walkerville, south of Johannesburg. She's conducting a telepathic interview with him especially for YOU.

FUCK. ME. From the magazine that is the home Of Joost and Amor(Who are probably more irritating than this fucking dog whisperer) and these days Minki and all the guys she hooks up with, this is seriously scraping around the whore house for a story. Every time Minki picks some new guy, she gets in the YOU magazine. Talk about desperate. Now this dog whisperer is clearly desperate as well.

Anyway, this story is even a new low for YOU magazine. You can't for one second, Jenny, tell me that you can hear your dogs speaking. Because, unless you are currently attached to a Tik bulb, you will realise DOGS DONT SPEAK. Don't try be fucking clever and try make me believe that what you do is not a scam. I know YOU magazine in only R10,95, and therefore might not cater for the most intelligent people, but you can't even fool the dumb with this bullshit. This is budget journalism. Jenny, can I ask you what I'm thinking right now? Oh you don't know? Well let me let you in on my thoughts.

You're a psychotic mad person crack head, who every once in a while needs to leave the house and realise there is a whole world out there. A world full of intelligent people that know that you are trying to screw them over. Seriously, just because your rubbish is in a magazine, does not make it true. But it does make you an A class con artist(In your mind)

In my mind you are cooked in the head. Some of my friends smoke more weed than Willie Nelson, and even they will realise that you are not for real. In my mind, you are a crack addict.

I can't believe this story actually appeared in a magazine. Oh, Jenny, FedEx me some of that crack you smoking, that shit is whack.

What a whore(I'm a bad person for saying that)

This from MSNBC:

Britney Spears’s friends believe that the baby-popping singer may be pregnant again, according to In Touch Weekly.

The friends’ concern may help to explain why Spears seems not to have lost any of her pregnancy weight and why she has been getting sick lately. In one widely circulated photo, Spears was shown throwing up peanut butter and reports said she had been drinking, but according to ITW, Spears has been skipping the booze.

Jesus Brit! Now I'm not usually into writing about this celebrity bullshit unless it's really worth it. But firstly, she is fucking like a racehorse, and then chundering up peanut butter! I know someone who once vomited while he was out and then said, totally seriously, "Why don't chicks dig me?" It has now become a classic line between me and my friends. Can you imagine Britney chundering up peanut butter then going "Why don't guys dig me?" I have the most fucked up picture in my head. I saw the photos on www.X17online.com and it does not look like she vomited the peanut butter up, but it's a good story anyway.

Everybody in Hollywood loves to get pregnant. I need some cash so I think a weekend in L.A might be worthwhile. Give Lindsay Lohan a good seeing to after plying her with Jack 'n Lime, get her pregnant, marry her Las Vegas style and then claim copious amounts of money and head the fuck home to S.A to buy my Llandudno house. This is a foolproof way of living life excessively.

Beerfest

That's the Broken Lizard crew I once knew

A few years ago when I stumbled upon the movie Super Troopers, I decided it was the funniest film I had ever seen. I still rate that film as one of the greatest comedies ever. When it came out I had never heard of it, there was no media hype, there were no famous actors in it and the video store only carried a couple of copies. I thought it was a hidden secret. It turned out to be a classic, written by a crew of people who call themselves Broken Lizard.

You will know that after Super Troopers, that same group of guys made a film called Club Dread, which was probably not their finest hour. Now comes Beerfest where two brothers need to deliver their grandfathers ashed to somewhere or other. Anyway, these guys at this underground Oktoberfest, called Beerfest, break the urn with his ashes in it.

They decide they want revenge and want to outdrink these Germans. So they embark on a one year training plan to compete in Beerfest. Some of the funniest scenes are when Ramathorn (I only know their Super Troopers names) wakes up naked next an dead animal, to which he says “Ah no, not again” and runs off into the bushes.

There is also a classic scene with him where he sinks all the balls on a pool table-with one shot. And it's a handed shot.

The movie started off a bit slow but once it got started it was funny. I have been reading reviews on it and they all say it's not that funny, but I enjoyed it. It's definitely worth a watch, even just to see Farva as a guy they call “Landfill” because he drinks and eats so much.

Good times, good times.

You can check out their MySpace page at: http://www.myspace.com/therealbrokenlizard

What to do when you win the lotto

I would not say that I am the most intelligent person on the planet, but I think I come across as intelligent judging by the questions I am asked. Friends always come to me for answers and questions such as “Where do black holes go to?” and “Why are you such an enigma?” and “Why do the stripes in toothpaste tubes always come out perfectly, even when you squeeze the tube all fucked up?” and “Where is the Inca gold hidden?” and “Why do things disappear in the Bermuda triangle?” and “How did you become a teenage prodigy?” I am asked these questions on a fairly regular basis and always try my best to answer them.

But the question I'm most often asked is “What would you do if you won the UK lottery at something like 50 million pounds?” Is is quite a startling question and I have never quite answered it. It perplexes me.

Until today. My sister dropped by and left a YOU magazine right next to the laptop and it was open on the backpage section where there was a photo of Kelly Slater(The surfer) teaching Cameron Diaz to surf. Whether he was teaching her more than this is not completely known. I then cast back in my mind to another YOU magazine my sister had left open on the desk where I do the writing of my various articles. It showed a picture of Kelly Slater on the beach with Gisele Bundchen. And so I looked at the common denominator in these two pictures and realised it was Kelly Slater.




And from this I came to my answer. I would buy personal lessons in living from Kelly Slater. Here is a man who earned his fortune while being on the beach. He shaves his head. He lives on the beach permanently. He hangs out with Gisele. He hangs out with Cameron. If I could even just see Gisele far in the distance, it would render me completely useless. I would not be able to do a single thing. I would be drooling like a puppy and doing completely fucked up things. In short, I would totally lose my composure.

But Kelly on the other hand(Right one) seems as cool as ever around these women. It could be that he has a couple of million in the bank and is quite good looking. It could also be that he has never had to pull anyone that does not qualify as “Fucking hot” But I still think there are a few things to be learnt from the man.



Imagine you right now in this situation:(If you're a guy. Um...ok some girls won't mind)

You're lying on the beach, and a women smears oil all over you. You look into her eyes and say “Get me another beer” She fetches it for you. You down it in one clean swoop. You lie back while the suns rays turn you into a darker shade of Mexican. You feel a hand slip down your pants...(Ok this is turning into an horrendously written porn novel) Basically all this shit happens and you wake up in the morning and it's Gisele lying next to you in bed. She is absolutely broken. They need the jaws of life to free her from your bed. Your alarm goes off and you check it. It says “Breakfast date with Victoria Silvstedt” You pack up your stuff and leave without waking the broken Gisele. You don't even bother getting her number. Because you live a lifestyle where you can get a hotter women every day of the year. Gisele is but a blip on your radar.

That story illustrates how Kelly Slater lives.

Now back to the question: What would you do with a 50 Million pound lottery jackpot?

More of the J&B MET

This young lass, who I took a photo of, was completely starstruck by my undeniable presence at the Met. She was strutting along gracefully, almost floating across the grass, when she saw me with my camera. Realising who I was, she got total stagefright! Don't worry about it, whoever you are, I have this effect on women. It's no big deal really, I suppose I should not be afraid to speak of my natural talents.

All hail to Sean!

Many words have been used to describe me over the years, ranging from “enigma” to “child prodigy”None of this has ever meant anything to me at all. Labels don't phase me. However, I believe that after this weekend another label will be attached to my name. And that will be “photography guru” I know, I know, I am all that is man. However, just have a look at the following photos of a young lady(Well, a young ladies very pert ass) and I am sure you will agree that nobody else at the J&B Met took such a classy photo. I was standing at the Culture Lab tent, waiting to annihilate another Red Bull and Vodka, when I noticed an obstruction at the bar. And it was this young lady.



So I decided, in the interests of public excitement, that a photo opportunity was unfolding right before my very eyes, and right in front of my jaw which had just dropped onto the dusty grass in amazement. When enjoying these photos, please take a close look(Like you aren't already, and notice her black G-String) I'm guessing La Perla, but hey, that's just my initial assumption. I will have to take a longer look to see whether it could in actual fact be Victorias Secret(If it is, it's not a secret anymore) Sit back, enjoy, and thank me. Just save the applause for later.



I apologise profusely for not getting a photo of her face, but I'm sure you will forgive me. After all, that was the least of my worries. Thank you young lass. For everything. And thank you, Sony, for making such a tiny camera.

It's a drug free mall-strange!

Judging by the headlines in the Daily Voice, the whole of Cape Town has a slight tik(Tik is crystal meth) problem. Yes, that includes you and me. Tik keeps Cape Town tikking(Like ticking...dude) Evidently if you have a habit to support, you can't always be doing drugs at home. I mean, I like to take my tik on the road. I like to tik in the car, at the beach, out kicking it at the clubs, footskating, hanging out with my mates, cycling and the list is endless. However one place we are banned from tikking in is Kenilworth centre.

I saw this sign outside the rooftop entrance and was shocked. It says it is a drug free mall. I nearly believed it until Friday afternoon and this guy came out while I was trying to take a photo of the sign. He came out and said “Take a photo of me first” Which I did, because he looked so happy and carefree. Knowing that people are not usually crazy with excitement till the Friday cocaine train starts at about 5:30pm, I knew the secret to his happiness. He was tikking. Fuck it was great. He was tikking, I was tikking, you were tikking, old lady Bernice down at the church was tikking. God, we were all having a gay old time. Marvellous. Marvellous times indeed. I love Cape Town.

If you click on the photo for a bigger view you will also see there is a picture of a shoe with a red line through it. So I take it shoes are banned as well. Odd. It also says no cameras. Shit, broke that rule. Actually I broke the no drugs, no shoes and no cameras rule. Now that's how you spell “rebel”

I have the golden ticket!

Gosh, look how happy I am this morning! Met ticket in my hand, Plush playing through my iPod, is this a dream? No, shit no, this is real! I am living the dream!

I woke up this morning and thought “What's in store for me today?” I was going to head down to the Waterfront but I then realised that the cricket is on, and it would be a better idea to stay home and indulge in a spot of cricket viewing. It is going to be horrendously hot. I thought life could not get any better. Until it dawned on me that tomorrow is the J&B Met. Already! I can't believe it. Can you? No, I know you can't. And I have a ticket to the sickest site, which has now left me utterly speechless. You know I will take my camera and take photos of everything I see. I will try get some celebrity shots if that's at all possible. I will try get some bum shots of all the little dirty models strutting around with their lingerie showing. I will do everything I can to just be sneaky sneaky and get photos of women while their husbands are out cutting business deals with all the other drug barons that visit the Met.

My, my I'm excited. Right at this very moment, as I type this article on the patio, I am feeling overwhelmed by this weekend. I feel like at any moment I could just snap and start laughing,crying, drinking and eating at the same time. I have no idea how to control my body right now facing the enormity of the party that Cape Town is bound to have this weekend. I just sit here, in the heat, with goose bumps, realising that if the world ended after the Met tomorrow, that we will all have had a happy and fulfilling life. I have absolutely no idea which horse I should bet on, and I know that for the third year in a row I will miss every single horse race.

I will wake up on Sunday and my phone book will be full of girls numbers...My house will be full of girls...There will be a Thai boy cooling me with a banana leaf while he serves me pineapple juice...I will have millions of rands in my pocket from betting on the horses...I will be a celebrity...People will want interviews with me...I will be driving a Bentley...I will be a guest on Conan o' Briens show...I will have my own towers in Cape Town just like The Don...Good grief, this weekend could be the change in my life that I have been searching for. Thank you God for this weekend. Thank you J&B for this race. I need to be by myself for a while now while I try regain some composure in my life.

Paris is now over exposed

Look I've probably seen the Paris Hilton video way too many times to count, but that's not the point of this story. And I know you all know about this website because everyone has been talking about it. I heard it on E! News and so the whole world knows by now. I think the site surfaced on Tuesday or something. I nearly did not write on it but I came at this story from another angle. Genius. Again.

Go to www.parisexposed.com and you will, for about $39, be able to see all sorts of Parys's rubbish that was left in a storage facility and bought by someone when Parys did not pay her storage bill. There are videos, photos, diary entries and all sorts of other rubbish. The person who owns the site must be making an absolute killing from it. God, I wish I was him. Holidaying in the Bahamas, model at your side, all because you bought some of Paris's stuff. Shit life is unfair. Anyway I thought the photo of the guy with the cocaine on his chest was just classic! Have you ever seen so much blow in your life, it's so excessive! The cocaine train has steam rolled that guy into another dimension. It is just hilarious the things you can do when you have so much money. Cocaine in your coffee...glorious.

Then of course there is a photo of Parys with her tits out. No surprise there really. I have seen all there is to see of Parys(And you have too no doubt...you devils) yet it still excites me when a site like this comes up. It's like Christmas in January, for the second time! Before I completely lose the plot here, and lose my composure, I will sign out.

I still wish I owned that site. Bastards. A move to L.A is imminent for me...

Google yourself

I'm sure you have done this a thousand times but type your name into Google and see what you find. I typed in my name and the most bizarre stuff came up. These are some of the things:

Sean Lloyd- "The elite" (Actually quite spot on there)
Review of Higher Learning (1995) by Sean Lloyd (Not so spot on. Maybe lower learning)
www.musclebyseanlloyd.co.uk (Woh fucking woh, way way off there!)

Even better is when I type in "Sean Lloyd bronzed gladiator" and it brings up all the posts where I have mentioned I am a bronzed gladiator. The first four links are actually mine. This is fascinating

This is insane!

The other day I wrote of how shit Wikipedia is and how you can just edit any posts you like. I also said it would be stupid to do a post on myself. But clearly the heat got to me today and I wrote an entry on myself. It's all so incredible. I never cease to amaze myself. I am a God. Just look at it quickly because it will be deleted any minute now.

You can either go to www.wikipedia.com and in the search box type "Sean Lloyd" and then hit "Go"

Or you can go to the link here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sean_Lloyd



This is hysterical!

The beach report- Not too shabby, Nige

Today it is not safe to go out. So stay inside little ones. It is clearly the hottest day of the year in Cape Town. It is fuck off hot. So don't go outside. I have done all the hard,sweaty work in bringing you the view of the beaches in Cape Town today.

I had decided early this morning that it was not a day to be spent indoors. It was meant to be enjoyed outside. Well those were my initial thoughts. So I got into the blazing hot VR3 and sent it to the beach. First stop was Camps Bay. By this time my pits were already sweaty(There was no reason to mention that. So I did) I was appalled that there was no talent walking around. I think they were all on the beach or decided that the day was too dangerous to be spent in the sun.




I then went to Clifton and it was not all that busy. A couple of shmodels walking around, posing, oiling themselves up, but nothing mind blowing.

You probably won't believe this, but it is true. I saw, on the drive back home, a guy cycling through Bakoven on his tandem. By himself. I have always believed the excessively rich do lot's of drugs just to keep life exciting, but I had no idea the extent of their drug abuse. A fucking tandem, solo. Mind bending.



Next, and last, was Llandudno. It was sweet. Llandudno is the Cape Town Los Angeles. Or what I imagine L.A to be like. When you drive in there is a security hut and it says that every car and person crossing that line is under video surveillance. That's excessive. Llandudno is like a little village on it's own where no one can touch you. The only thing it has not escaped is car guards. They were at the parking just off the beach. Charming.



Then outside the Tamboerskloof pharmacy there was a massive red Coke truck(Coca-Cola, not the schnaafing type) trying to parallel park. So I sat stuck behind if for a few minutes, wondering what the fuck was happening. Then one block from there, I saw a guy walking with his girlfriend. Only he was wearing black socks to just below his knees with Converse shoes. And he had a truckers cap and was sporting a muzzie. He looked so baked. Clearly just kicking it back to the old school.

It was a good day, but too hot so I'm off to Kelvin Grove to sell myself at the pool.

Please note: Tennis is on

For the next couple of hours I will be unavailable Mr President, so don't even bother calling until you are certain(And have checked SuperSport 1 personally) that the game is finished. Because for the next few hours I will be slowly falling in love with a sweaty girl. Yes, Maria Sharapova is smoking hot right now, and nothing short of Koeberg going into meltdown mode will move me from my perch on the couch. I actually have all the TV's on(Sorry to waste electricity and cause the globe to warm) so if I do happen to walk into another room I don't miss her tiny little bum. She is actually wearing this yellow Nike dress that is so short, and so well cut, that I know why the ball boys never stand up straight. I would also be doubled over, unable to stand because...well whatever.

I am also amazed at the kind of three umpire people who stand behind the players. They also stand bent over. Either something is too embarrassing to keep them from standing up straight(My obvious assumption) or they are leaning over for a better look at Sharapova's bum. Now this second assumption actually goes hand in hand with the first assumption.

Now leave me alone, I have some sport to watch. I may write on it later, but I have no idea how tennis works. Maybe I will just take some mental pictures instead.

Sucks if you not living in Cape Town

I took this photo last Sunday and I was just looking through these photos now. Then I started to think "Fuck it, imagine not living in Cape Town?" It was one of my deeper, more profound moments that I have had lately. The thought of living in Joburg, or God forbid, LONDON, brought a tear to my eye. Can you IMAGINE living in Joburg, no ocean, all those Joburg type people who think they are fucking New Yorkers trying to act busy all day. And can you imagine actually working a whole week? Joburg may be where all the business is. Joburg is work. Cape Town is pleasure. All the modelling agencies are here so the beaches are never without talent(Especially during the week when all the out of work models are tanning topless on Clifton...shit shouldn't have said that now everyone is going to be going to the beach when I do) Then there are just the Joburg peoples mindset. Work work work. When they ask me what I did last week and I say "Fuck all actually. Clifton, had a braai, cruised around a bit" They actually think that I have lost my mind. Not that I'm saying they must move down here. No, Cape Town is getting too overcrowded for my liking as people from around the world move here. Even Caprice the model has bought a house here, I think in Camps Bay somewhere. As we attract more rich and famous people it only betters my chances of marrying a Gisele Bundchen type and travelling the world with her. So I'm going to stick it out here forever, because shit it's cool. Granted we do have some people who actually do think they are New Yorkers, even though they are originally from Kenilworth. They walk around like they own Cape Town, like they have their own Trump Towers in the centre of town. That's the only problem with having so many good looking and famous people in Cape Town. People who are not the business, think they are the business. Now every semi-decent girl is a model and thinks she is the business. Meanwhile in actual fact she is the business bicycle, hitting the "casting couch" if you know what I mean. Everybody you meet in Cape Town is "Well, like, you know, I've been going to some castings, so I'm just waiting to hear from that" But hey, I shouldn't be complaining, because I don't know these people...

No headline

Some random photo I took from the docks today while I lied my way onto Japanese fishing trawlers to get some shark fins and other illegal stuff.

I LOVE IT!

Many people will know that I have a mild fascination with Tik, because every paper I read says something about Tik. It's incredibly bizarre. So it was with great excitement that I just read a headline on news24 saying "Tik and your kids: Kids love it. It's easily accessible, relatively cheap and can even be made in your kitchen"

That's great news! It sounds like they are talking of something as safe as biscuits. Cruise down to the shops, buy some, bake some at home, no big deal. I love this whole Tik craze because everyone is in on it. Papers love writing about it.

I'm going to be the next Jamie Oliver, and please don't steal my ideas because this could make me rich. I'm getting a holiday cookbook made called "Tikking to a slim body:Sean's holiday treats" We all know that Tik makes you lose weight(Well I do now because I just read it. Fuck this stuff is amazing, so many uses from one product. Verimark should sell it) This book could become a best seller. Then the follow up will be my experience with the benefits of Tik. "Tikking for a new generation" should easily make it onto Oprahs book club. This is all too overwhelming for me right now.

Christmas in January

Marvellous

Sometimes I don't see my friends for a while over the holidays because everyone is in a different place and doing Tik-all the normal holiday stuff. So on Monday when Jerry came round, and after the Waterfront excursion- we had Christmas in January. It was all fucked up. I was scrummaging through the cupboards looking for left over box wine when I accidentally came upon some Christmas crackers. So we opened them up and found various toys that were useless. Anyway the cheap, bottle wine/ pap sak/ cooler/ came out and the party started. God, thank you for this Christmas. I think it was better than the original Christmas. It was all very odd, having a two person Christmas in January...but hey that's what the XS lifestyle is all about...doing whatever you damn well please. Good times

Plush at The River Club

Lex Himself put out the word that Plush and some other bands were playing at The River Club in Observatory last night, so that's where the evening was going. I have not heard Plush live in about two months, and they are awesome. There were three other bands playing, I think the one's name was Jack White or something, but I could be completely wrong. The lead singer was jumping around like mad and her tit's were bouncing very nicely. Then her pants started slipping down and I thought I was dreaming. Clearly the regulars at The River Club got more than they bargained for last night and I'm sure many nearly had heart attacks. I can't really comment on their music because I could hardly concentrate with all the boobs bouncing around and stuff. Then Palms Up played and I was not really too impressed by them. I've heard them play live before at Sobhar and am not really a big fan of their stuff. But Plush were insane. Everytime I listen to them, I get a good vibe. They have apparently sent their new song “Grace grew tall” to 5FM to get playlisted. It would be awesome if it did get played, but whoever chooses 5fm's playlists are clearly deaf and on crack. Because the music 5fm play is fucking horrendous. I don't ever listen to them anymore because they are so shit.

There was some other guy playing called Sean something or other and he's just moved down here from Joburg. His music was quite cool but I will have to give it another listen to check if it's good. He's kind of got the Jack Johnson music vibe, quite cool.

The Waterfront-Touristy

It was decided that yesterday was a ridiculous day to be spent at home so myself and Jerry decided a trip to the Waterfront was in order to go see what all the tourists were doing in their knee high socks and sandals. So we cruised around to Quay Four for a drink, but seeing as though we are not raging alcoholics all I wanted was a cooldrink-and if I don't want a beer, I don't fucking want a beer. Clearly if you are a young person waiters think you must drink alcohol at 2pm. So I ordered an Appletizer and Jerry ordered a Coke. No big deal. Until the waiter gave us a funny look. He said “Are you sure you don't want a splash of cane in that?” No fuckhead, actually I don't. It didn't piss me off that he said this, but the way he said it was what got me going. He looked at us as though we were completely off our heads, not drinking booze. When I'm in your restaurant, you should make me feel comfortable and do as I say. Not that we were feeling threatened by punk boy, but it's irritating having to explain to a waiter why you are not drinking. I blew this off as a once off thing and that this guy was maybe new. Then we ordered a plate of chips to clog our arteries-for R37. Jesus, I can buy a fucking potato field for that price. Better yet, I can buy a rice paddy with a thai boy to tend to it for less. Their chicken burgers were priced at R42. An entire Woolworths chicken is only R36. I know you pay for the vibe and the waiters and shit, but fuck thats expensive. The Waterfront should have signs up saying “Tourists only” Then our parking cost R10 as well. I would be willing to pay this if I got a free watch or something. Fuck thats expensive. Fuck fuckity fuck fuck fuck. The swearing in this article is completely unnecessary but it sounds so right to me as Bob Dylans “Knocking on heavens door” plays through my room.

If anything about the Waterfront gets to me, it's the price of parking. Ten rand for 1-2 hours is pathetic because I don't get anything out of it. They should at least try and cater for local people, seeing as though we are the people who shop there most of the year. But then the parking below the BMW pavilion is only R5 for 1-4 hours. Completely strange. Fuckers.

Now I know I'm hitting the complain train today, but I went into Lee Cooper yesterday to see what I could not afford, and the punk working behind the counter could not have played the music louder if he tried. Like so loud that you could hear it four shops away. The song playing had something to do with “ho's” and then right after that went onto Justin Tiberlake. Then everytime I asked him something he had to turn the music down. You are not a fucking DJ, and Lee Cooper is not fucking studio 54, so turn that shit down. I'm young, I dig music, but seriously it's unnecessary. When you are in your fucked out Datsun cruising the 'hood with your plastic stick on spinners with your “ 'ho” in the boot, then play the music as loud as you want. But when I'm in your shop, show some respect to my ears.

And seriously, Lee Coopers shirts have awesome designs, but they are designed for midgets. I'm a small guy and I have virtually no shoulders and their large shirts were too tight for me. Clearly they are catering to the gay fashion models, like Bruno and Wahb. That shop is a waste of time

Sign of the weekend

Obviously we cycled again yesterday, in an effort to win the Argus in March. But cruising through Hout Bay I saw this sign which has a line saying “Hands off our children” This is highly bizarre, considering it's an obvious point they are making. It's like having signs all around the world saying “No paedophiles” Odd

Myspace and other web rubbish

A while back I tried to set up a Myspace account to see what all the fuss was about. And I was not that impressed. Basically it's a whole bunch of bullshit where people post photos of themselves and tell you about their lives and how depressed they are and shit. Guess what? I don't fucking care. I don't care your boyfriend dumped you or that you are giving up sweets for a month. I truly don't. Blogs have a tendency to be like this as well(Except, of course, this one) Here we try and write well articulated shit that if anything, might make you laugh. Or not. So I set up an account and then it became a mission because I had to start loading photo's of myself and writing down what fucking food my dog eats and whether I watered my lawn on Mondays or Wednesdays. It just became tiresome. So I forgot about Myspace.

But after being confronted by some chick called “Tila tequila” in literally every magazine I opened, I had to check this one out. She was in TIME magazine, GQ, fuck she's everywhere except in my house. Now Tila has become an absolute millionaire from Myspace. She sells clothing, hosts shows, gets her kit off for magazines and sings. That's so Hollywood. Sing, act, model, be a hero by coming to Africa to “save” us, and all the other shit celebrities are required to do. Oh, and adopt a Malawian kid. Ok, off the topic.

So I took a look at her Myspace page and it was boring. There were some photos, you could listen to her horrendous singing, there were photos of the magazine covers she has done, their were some posts where she spoke about herself and so on and so forth. She actually became a millionaire from this horse shit. This to me is unbelievable. She has no talent other than showing us her tits and ass. Which is not a bad thing, but there are plenty of women who are willing to go kit off and not all of them make money. Some make $1 a day. I am astounded by this whole Myspace phenomenon.

Then there is Wikipedia. This is an online encyclopedia but posts can be edited by anyone who cares to edit them. In other words a bunch of complete idiots who can just post as much bullshit as they want on topics they don't care about. I could probably type my name in and say “Sean Lloyd, 18th century warrior, bronzed gladiator, lady slayer supreme. Ate his steak while still on the cow, drank his milk while still in his wifes tits. Lived until 1907(Yes, he lived through the entire 1800's), whereupon he drank poison to take his life in order for someone else to have a chance at coming right with all the women he had left broken in his wake” I could probably do that. But there is no fucking point. Put it this way, if I was in school and was doing some research I would not go to Wikipedia for answers. I'd go to a normal encyclopedia.

One thing that is not bullshit is YouTube. It's amazing. Do me a favour and do a search for the following:

Chopper(Choppers weather report is legendary)
Rick James and Charlie Murphy

It's things like these videos that make me think “Fuck, the world is cool” But it's things like Myspace and Wikipedia that make me go “What the fuck am I doing on this earth?”

Sorry for you!

Yes, you, the FIVE winners of the lottery last night. You must all be standing on a bridge right now wanting to jump. Because that's where I would be. In life you only get one chance at some things. You might get a couple of chances to sleep with your best friends girlfriend or mom, you may even get a couple of chances to steal stuff without anyone knowing. But when it comes to winning the lottery you don't have any chance. And when that slight chance comes round you had better make fucking sure that you win the R20 million roll over.



Last night I was at Forres speaking to my mates Jerry and Nic and we were talking of winning the lottery. Nic pulled his ticket out of his wallet to show me the winning ticket. We also have an agreement that if we win we will give each other some cash to spend, just as a bonus. Maybe like R10000 or R20000. Thank fuck we did not win last night. Because last night was a freak of nature. Five winners got about R857000, which sucks. It's like getting the Porsche Boxster, not the 911 GT3 RS(The orange one below). It just won't do. You are driving around in your Boxster thinking "Fuck, I nearly made it in life. I was so close to having the model girlfriend and the Llandudno house. Now all I have is this fucking car. The poor mans Porsche" At that very moment some old dude passes you on the drive along Camps Bay in his fuck off fast 911 GT3 RS. He is 92 in the shade, can't even lift his hand up without taking Viagra and he has a tight as hell 21 year old model in the passenger seat, who he is going to give a right seeing to when he gets home.




That's how it would feel to win the lottery last night. You would just think "Fuck, I nearly won the lottery. So close yet so far"

So sorry for you. No really, I feel your pain. I truly do. May you all go in peace.

Tony falls out of his tree

The morning was started with a run from the Sea Point pool to Clifton with Mike. Women watched in admiration as these two athletes passed them by, leaving them in a wake of burnt out Nike Shox and creatine. It was a relaxing morning until I decided I should have a look at the Saturday Weekend Argus.

There on the front page was Slim himself, Tony Yengeni. Clearly going overboard(And totally off the hook) on the Atkins craze(Which was SO last year Tony) he decided to slaughter a bull to celebrate his release from prison. A fucking bull! Last time I celebrated something, I think I did a Woolworths chicken in the Weber. But Tony took the bull by the horns when it came to celebrating. He went insane.

Apparently Tony stabbed the bull and then some dudes finished it off properly. Clearly Tony is going absolutely off his rocker on Atkins, so next time he's in prison he is all muscular and can call the shots. Because not only did a bull see it's chops, they slaughtered two sheep as well! Fucking good grief. And it was all done in his parents front garden! Clearly still lazy as shit(Evident by the Weber in his stomach) he decided the meat fest would be held at the folks so he does not have to clean up the 400 litres of blood that no doubt spewed everywhere.

Apparently they then drunk beer(And no doubt got completely fucked out of their trees)

Shit, being released from prison actually looks quite fun. Enjoy the hangover and gout attack, Tony.

Wish me well wishing well

If you, like me, are an astute young business person(Mmmm...very PC. Not a businessman. A business person) you will probably read TIME magazine. I just kind of skim through all the crap though to the backpage where they do celebrity interviews. I also read the quotes and a column called “Numbers” They give a number and then explain what it relates to. I was reading a TIME the other day and it said something about $5,6 million is thrown into wishing wells every year(I think that's just in the States but I could be wrong). Now I'm not a clever person but logic screams at me saying “Fuck you could be rich if you just traversed the globe( I was going to say “travelled the world” but what I wrote makes me sound highly intellectual. I'm like a dictionary. Amazing) emptying out wishing wells” Then I thought, “Who actually came up with this number of $5 million or so?” Because the person who did is very rich. In order to count this money they must have stole it. Bastards.

As I like to do actual research on the bullshit I write, I'm going to get in contact with The Cousin, Darren, who is doing research from his office in Kirstenbosch. Not only can I use him to gain access to all sorts of illegal grass and stuff they grow in the greenhouses at Kirstenbosch(Nice!), but I can also use him to provide a distraction while I empty out that wishing well. It's called the something or other pool and there is always money in it so I think it's worth having a look at how much cash I can make.

So I definitely think a visit to The Cousin will be worthwhile and could pay off with the monetary values in my kiddies bank account skyrocketing. Maybe then I can persuade the bank manager that I am actually careful with my money and maybe he will let me upgrade to a real adults account. Then I will also not be embarrassed anymore when I draw money with my “Goof Troop” ATM card. It's all in the planning stages but I have a good feeling about this...

House of Carters

Just to inform you, house of Carters is the show of Nick Carter, the Backstreet boy.

A while ago I started writing an article saying how shit the House of Carters is. I had only seen a preview of it and thought it was going to be terrible. It airs on E!Entertianment and I find myself strangely addicted to it.

The show follows Nick and his three sisters and one brother. His one sister, Angel(What a fitting name) truly is an angel. She is so hot. I definitely need to become friends with that family. I think in winter maybe a trip to LA is in order, just to lounge around those hotel pools and see which celebrities I can hook up with. Then there is the sister Bobbie Jean, or the embarrassing BJ for short. She is a bit messed up at times and seems to have a fondness for the booze. I think that she could be quite dirty(Again, her name is fitting) I can't remember the name of the other sister, but I'm sure I would in any case regardless of if I know what she looks like. Then there is his brother Aaron, who I'm sure you have seen around on the TV.

Now I know all the fighting is probably staged for the cameras, but it's so damn good! No one else I have spoken to so far thinks it is a good show. In fact I don't think anyone really watches the show to be honest. But it's not important what other people think. The important thing is what I think. And I like it.

They are living in this sick double story house in LA, in the hills. They have an even sicker balcony, looking over the sickest pool. From the balcony you can admire your empire and jump into the pool, like Aaron is going to do on Sundays episode. God, I can't wait.

The only thing that sucks is that I have to wait an entire week between episodes but E! do show repeats during the week which I watch because I'm so addicted. The other day I had to rush home from something very important(VERY important) to catch an episode.

I want to see Angel now. I want to live in their house. I want Nick Carters fame. I want it all.

And by George, I want it now.

By the way, anyone know who the George is that I'm referring to? I sure don't.

Magazine watch

In a piece I'm calling "Magazine watch" I will look at which magazines I buy, and whether you should buy that particular months issue.

The Jan/Feb issue of GQ SA was not bad but it could have been better. I found two things in particular that disturbed me deep down. Firstly there is that hideous chair, with the headline "The benchmark" That chair does not set a benchmark in anything, other than fucking ugly.

Basically it just a couple of pieces of bent metal joined by a few strips of plastic. Pre-schoolers make those shit designs every year with that colourful putty. What's more disturbing is the price of R32400. Shocked. Mind you, it's being sold by a company called Twiice International. Would you trust a company that can't spell twice correctly?

That's what I hate about the word "art" Label anything as art and it becomes insanely expensive. Take a photo of your dog taking a shit and call it art and some royal prick will pay you $50000 for it. Or if you happen to be Annie Leibovits(Supposedly one of the greatest portrait photographers of our time and Chief Photographer at Vanity Fair) you can just take photos and become rich. I saw her photos she took of David Beckham for GQ's Aug-Sep 2004 issue and they were good. What I want to know is: What's the difference between those photos of Beckham and photo's taken by another photographers. It's all about hype. And I'm sure this chair is all the hype right now but frankly I'm not impressed at all.

Then GQ give us a piece that is clearly from an overseas edition. The horrendous swimming costume. GQ have often said that you should never wear a Speedo. But now they endorse something that is just as bad. True double standards they are showing. Magazines typically are set up three months before they go to print and this Jan-Feb issue must have then been set out in about November. Clearly thinking of the holidays, and not having enough time for their own shoot to be set up, they stole this one. Do they honestly think South African men are going to wear that? Look, if that's what you enjoy then wear it. But keep the fuck away from me on the beach, Fabio.

This should be classified as a Class A drug

I was browsing the juice aisle at Spar yesterday wondering what I could imbibe on such a horrendously hot day while Eskom once again fucked around with our electricity. I would have been in Pick 'n Pay were it not for the said power cuts that closed Pick 'n Pay down.

So I meander into the Spar like a complete rock star, shades on, iPod thumping a very soulful Barry White into my ears. I cruise into the juice aisle and just as I am about to grab the pressed apple juice I notice a pharmaceutical of some sorts on the shelf. Shocked that drugs were in such easy reach of young kids, I took this orange stuff off the shelf to take a closer look. On closer inspection it turns out that this stuff was made for drinking. By whom, may I ask? A clinically insane person? The colour immediately reminded me of those highlighters I was forced to use when I was a complete idiot at school.

Turning the bottle to get a nice clear view of the label I learnt that this stuff is called "Drink-O-Pop" Yeah, you drink it, your liver goes POP. A 200ml bottle makes an un-fuck-me-up-believable 8 litres! How insane is that? So I checked the ingredients to see what was in Georges fucking marvellous medicine. Here they are:

Water
Citric Acid
Non-nutritive sweeteners(Sodium cyclamate, Sodium Saccharin)
Cloudifier
Sodium citrate
Flavourant
Sodium Benzoate(Preservative)
Colourant

Sweet Jesus. Not even a mention of fruit of any sort. Even Oros contains 6 percent juice when mixed. This stuff will well and truly fuck you up.

Not wanting to risk my great health, I did not attempt to drink this stuff. Instead I decided to see what uses it can come in handy for.

You will see in the photos that if you dip an ear bud in your bottle of Drink-O-Pop that it makes quite a competent highlighter. And it's only about R5 or R6 for a 200ml bottle. Much cheaper than highlighters! I am genius. I also poured it into my basin to see if it would stain it. Well it didn't but I'm sure it would have cleared a blocked drain if I had one. Send in your suggestions for your uses for "Drink-O Pop" It's good shit. Just don't drink it. I take no responsibility for heart attacks and strokes suffered when drinking this stuff.

Class A drugs

Just been browsing Sky News and found a story saying that Crystal Meth has been reclassified as a Class A drug in the UK. Shocking. Personally, I always had it at a Class C or D drug and I used to smoke it in the church yard. I used to smoke it in school, at the 7-Eleven. I even liked to put a little bit in my hair when the wax ran out. I brushed my teeth with it, used it as creatine in sporting events, it had many uses. Now that it has been classified as Class A once again, I will limit myself to injecting it into my jugular.

Seriously though, how could it ever be classified as anything less than class A. If you paste this link into your browser: http://news.sky.com/skynews/article/0,,30000-13563566,00.html you will realise that it fucks you up good and proper. Gosh.

Apparently this is not a joke

I have been looking for this gem for ages and finally I stumbled upon it. A fucking home spa. A portable one. Just when you think the home shopping network can't think up any more shit, they give us this. The R699 home spa.

It says you can watch TV, read a book or talk on the phone while using the spa. This thing is way beyond me. Can you actually imagine reading a book while sitting in this thing? I can't even imagine sitting in it in the first place. It's younger brother however is the Sauna Belt. For R499 you can wrap a sauna around your stomach. This is all too ridiculous. How fucking embarrassing must it be if friends come round and you have a sauna wrapped around your stomach to lose weight. Do you really believe this is the way to lose weight? Try something that at least requires some effort, Slim.

Shit this wine is good.

Update: By the way, if any of you readers want to buy this horrendous piece(s) of equipment you can conveniently follow this link and throw your money at the fools who make this sauna. I'm warning you though...if I find out any of you have actually bought this...there will be trouble.
Buy it at: www.glomail.co.za

Praise the Lord

Generally I try not post photo's of women on this site because that does not count as having a site. You only need half a brain to type in "Hot chicks" on Google and then download those photo's onto your site. That's a fucking stupid way of getting traffic to your site. I take the way of writing to get people on my site, hence the remarkably slow hit rate we have. However I believe this photo has to be seen. I have never in my life ever seen a woman look so fine. I'm scared though because I fear every woman I see from now on will be compared in my mind to Gisele and they will never match up to her. I want Gisele. This photo is from the Pirelli calendar. Never before has a tyre brand been so appealing. And listen to this...the VR3 rolls on Pirelli. Maybe we could partner up sometime in the future...you know send me on a special assignment to the Pirelli shoot. I'm just throwing that out there if any Pirelli reps are listening...

We've hit four figures

While other sites are clocking up millions of page hits every day, we are still in our infancy and it's taken three wary months just to clock up 1000 hits. It does feel good though, out of the three figures and into the four figures. However I will catch up to YouTubes amount of hits. I'm planning to go for the "late surge" and surprise the other websites with my readership pulling power. I will let you know when it happens.

The glass is now fucked...Suzanne

About a week ago there was news that a raging bull of a fire was meandering through Malibu and destroying all the rich people's houses. I never saw much of it on the news and because I had no internet, I could not look it up. So I went on the net now to see what all the fuss was about and I came across a quote that had me crying, because some people are just too wealthy, and stupid it would seem. This is from Suzanne Somers', the actress:

“My nature is to look at the glass half-full,” Somers said in a statement. “I truly believe we will learn something great from this experience.”

No. Come on. Stop with this glass half full, half empty bullshit. The way I see it if you are filling a glass with water and stop halfway, then the glass is half full. If you are drinking from the glass(Thus emptying it) and you stop half way, then it is half empty. How the fuck people relate a glass to life is beyond me. Anyone if you must relate this experience to something that is just made from melted sand or something, I would confidently say that the glass is fucked. The glass has once again been turned into sand and is of no use to anyone. Now they say Somers' home is a total loss. What can she learn from this? Honestly? Well if you ask me she could learn to build a fireproof house. She could learn to get home quicker and put the fire out with a bucket. Or she could just learn that there is fuck all to learn when your house has been trashed. I want to get in contact with her publicist and ask her "Tell me now, what did Suzanne learn?" Because I think she learnt that living in a house surrounded by flammable bushes is one hell of a bitch

I'm posting this because I have nothing else to do

So last night it was back to work on articles to write and to boost my creativity in making every article I write funny, I decided that a pre-work strategy would be to head down to Woolworths, browse their selection of wine and head home, inspired once again. So I chose some Late Harvest and a Chenin Blanc which was quite nice. I'm actually writing this post as I drink it but I'm writing it in the sense that I'm looking back over this evening, if you know what I'm saying. I have articles lined up for the year ahead that will have magazine editors hunting me down saying “Please oh please will you freelance for us” The answer is no I will not freelance for you. As I said yesterday, the days of our .com world takeover are looming and it's leaving me quite jittery and excited. Nothing a R23 bottle of wine can't fix. Today is a tricky day. I'm still learning to load photo's onto my new operating system and because I have not yet learnt how to do this, I am forced to rack my brain for articles that don't require photo's which is tricky when a the Chenin Blanc I am drinking is nearly finished and I still have no ideas. Tomorrow I will go for a drive, with Phil Collins and some other old crooners playing through my iPod and I will generate enough articles that I will not have to write for the rest of the year. Until then, take it easy. I'm signing out before my chair rolls from beneath me and I spill my wine. Which would be a complete waste.

Stuff I need to tell you

For a while now I have been a little embarrassed at having my site hosted at .blogspot.com. It's a great place and has served me well but like a bitchy mother in law, it's time to move on from blogspot. When we change over to .com in the near future it will allow me to access any place I like. The other day I wanted to write some articles that required research but I thought "Jesus how embarrassing would it be to say that I'm from www.partyboy52.blogspot.com" It's horrendously embarrassing. And it's also exciting because it reminds me of the .com start ups that make a billion dollars. Like YouTube. Granted YouTube actually invented a new technology but fuck it, who says NewsCorp won't one day buy us out for a billion dollars? Hey, it could happen.

Then onto the J&B Met on the 27th January in Cape Town. I nearly fell off my perch the other day when I received an invite to a party hosted by David Zeeman (Of CultureLab @ YDE: www.culturelab.co.za) I was at his same party last year and it was honestly the only place to be at the Met. It ended with Rory Mitchell still playing the decks while a security guard tried to move him away saying that we had to cut the music off at a pathetic time, I think it was 5pm. But this year it's going to be crazy with Red Bull and shit and just 100% pure excess to the max. Only 100 tickets were sold and I believe it is taking up four sites which is too much for me to handle. It should be full of food, booze, dirty girls and only a party like Zeeman can host. I will definately do a write up on the aftermath of sunburn and intoxication.

That's all for now children

Only in SA

I just received this from my mate Mike and it's actually so hilarious it's bordering on the bizarre. This photo and the following e-mail were what Mike sent me:

Once you have finished admiring the rugged build and dark good looks of the reflected cameraman (mike@foxp2.com) look closer. Only in ZA do people who don't pay their parking and get wheel clamped go one further. This enterprizing bugger actually took the aforeclamped wheel off her car - complete with municipality clamp - and chucked it on her back seat. Presumably she has been driving on her biscuit ever since...

Part 1 of Hout Bay Castle

I have for many years driven past the castle in Hout Bay and thought "My God, that man must get loads of chicks" I even used to play out situations in my head of what would happen if I owned the castle. Here is one of those situations:

I'm sitting at a bar, the moon blinking off raindrops that have now tenderly gathered on the window. A glass of fine wine in my hand, the smell of Armani Black Code radiating off of me like it's hot. An unwavering look in my eyes. A woman walks past me. We make eye contact. She stops on a dime(Literally, cos she stepped on a dime) She takes a seat next to me. She starts off the conversation, mentioning some shit about her job. I say nothing. I stare at her. She carries on about her dogs, her ex husband, all shit that I don't give two fucks about. I keep staring. I light up a Cohiba cigar. She mentions that I have not said one word the whole time. She then goes on to say I am a psycho. She get's up to leave. I say "Wait". She turns around. She pierces me with her come-to-bed eyes. I whisper "I own the castle in Hout Bay" Immediately it feels as if we have known each other for a lifetime. She shouts so everyone in the bar can hear "Will you storm my castle with your steed!" We get in my Ferrari and head back...to the castle.

That was one thought I had of the castle. The other was that maybe it is a brothel. Noting in my diary that not many prisoners were escaping from prison(Not even Toni Yengeni, but I forgive him for he is fat) I realised something was wrong. I thought "I know! By George! The prisoners are not escaping because they don't have KY jelly to slip between the bars. The reason they don't have KY is because the brothel is using all the KY!"

These were my initial thoughts on the castle. In part 2 of this article I go and find out what the castle is really about. Stay reading.

Evan Rachel WOOD(I definately would)

The possibilities at stupid puns are endless when your surname is "Wood" I was browsing the newspapers over the weekend(In between cheap white wine and time in the sun) and it mentioned that Evan Rachel Wood has been seeing Marilyn Manson and this contributed to his split with his girlfriend Dita Von Teese(Who never seems to be wearing clothes) How a young girl like this manages to be corrupted by Marilyn Manson is too much for my mind. I mean, he looks like he is not real. He just looks all fucked up. She looks so sweet, tender, utterly whore-ish(I'm allowed to say this now that she has hooked up with him). Anyway, that's HollyWOOD. Ha ha ha! I'm genius. But her friend from thirteen(Nikki Reed on the left in the photo) is much hotter than she is. And she is always a dirty girl in her movies which put's her at my current number 1 on who I WOOD definately like to see in a Paris Hilton video.

Fucking Microsoft

Jesus wept that was a long break I took. But it's not because I'm lazy, it's because my computer was running on Microsoft and every chance it had to fuck another computer, it would. This contributed to a virus load that would put Jenna Jameson and Heidi Fleiss to shame. So anyway I converted to another program which I was going to name but I won't in case someone reads this and decides to tailor make a virus for Sean's computer. Anyway I actually did write a lot in the break and I don't know what to do with all the writing. My computer is filled with cheap porn and even cheaper writing, but that's the way life should be. Once I learn how to load photo's i will get cracking with some more very articulate writing(No I don't know what I'm talking about either)

It's a vortex implosion!

Look, I wouldn’t say I’m gullible but I tend to believe what people tell me because I trust people won’t lie to me. Because (I can still remember my English teacher saying “Never start a sentence with ‘because’” Well guess what? I just did. So there.) they know if they lie to me I will send them an e-mail entitled “Britneys growler: HI RES!” And I know we don’t want to see that again. But as much as I trust people to tell the truth, I know when you are telling a top class bullshit story. And so I have just read an interview in Cape Chat about oxygenized water. To help enlighten you on this water, I stole a quote from Dr Chabad, the National Distributor of Aqua Amino Water.

Cape Chat: What is so amazing about it (the water)?

Dr Chabad: It is living water!(Loving the exclamation mark-Sean) Aqua Amino water has undergone a vortex implosion(Jesus) restoring water to it’s original crystal pureness. The technology used (Gara technology) applies electro-magnetic frequency to water that holds and ‘seals’ the molecular crystalline shape, ensuring it stays “living water”

Now let me conveniently analyze this article for you. Because I can (If my English teacher could read this)

Firstly, this is bullshit.

Secondly, the water has undergone a vortex implosion. You. Are. Fucking. With. My. Head. A vortex implosion. What does that even mean? Jesus please save me from this horrendous planet where people try to sell me vortex imploded water. I’m all for people saying eat lots of fruit, vegetables and drink lots of water, like our ancestors. This I can believe will benefit you. However, our boys back in the year 1 were probably just drinking normal water, not imploded water. And I have read articles about this oxygenated water saying it is all rubbish. Basically, you take air in through your lungs, not your fucking stomach. How is air from water going to get through your stomach lining and into your blood? And why not just breathe air in through your mouth? Why fuck with nature and try drinking air? I am willing to bet my bottom dollar (which coincidentally is my only dollar) that there is more air in one breath than one of these bottles. Anyone want to bet? Maybe you, Dr Chabad?

Then thirdly, anyone who says water is “living” needs to go to a hippie farm and eat an organic pomegranate and smoke a J.

I can’t believe this is happening, it’s too much for a young brain like mine. Just do me a favour, don’t buy this water.

The holidays: Drunken driving, filthy sluts, newspaper editors are completely nuts

A post for Wednesday because I dont think I will have my computer with me then

Strange headline I just made up. Don’t ask.

Over the past two weeks or so I had this fascination with reading the newspaper placards hanging from lampposts on the street. At times it has been dangerous as I have not been concentrating on piloting the VR3 in a straight line. Anyway, I picked out four of them to show you and here they are:

“Tik mom pulls drip out of baby” (Peoples Post)

“Tik kop steek hond” (Die Son)

“Flats vrou skinned alive”- Cape Sun (Oh my fuck, I don’t even want to read the story)

“Dial a drug straight to your door”- Cape Sun

The holidays are supposed to be a fun time where the laughter (the irritating laughter) of the neighbours red haired stepchild bellows through the ‘hood. Where people laugh when they realise they are so broke that they can’t even afford transport to get to work next year. Where people do so many drugs and drink so much booze that they forget who they actually are and what they are doing on earth. That’s what the holidays should be like. Drugs should make people funnier, not make them want to kill things. Well I suppose that’s in an ideal world. So next time you are cruising the ‘hood in the Pimp ‘Mobile, look out for these signs, remember this article and smile. Just keep your eyes on the road.

CUM books

Just doesn’t sound kosher

I have wanted to write this article for a while but I was just too embarrassed. There is this book store in Canal Walk and it’s called “CUM” Can you fucking handle this? Do you know how much nerve it took to stand like a stupid tourist on the top rails at Canal Walk and take this photo? It took nerves of iron ore. Titanium even. People were looking at me like a fool. I could not help but laugh when I was taking this photo and I bet people thought “God, just grow up already” But I can’t see how you can’t laugh at this! And to make matters twice as bad, I think it’s a Christian book store! UN-BEE-LIEVABLE! When you are thinking of a name for a Christian book store, can you not just try another acronym? What does CUM stand for? I’m guessing Christian United Mullets. But why not call it something like Christian Books Incorporated, CBI? What is wrong with CBI? On the other hand (the left hand) what is right with CUM? It’s just so wrong I can’t begin to describe it. I don’t even want to spend anymore time on this. But wait…I must spend more time on it. Because it just occurred to me that if this shop was located next to the shoe store in Cavendish, aptly named Spitz, that they would make the sickest combination! That is disgusting, but I’m laughing! I just beg you to look at the photo and ponder the reasons for this name. It’s all too much for me, once again, and I need to go for a swim at The Kelvin Grove pool, and when I have recovered, I will try writing something else.

Think about it now

CUM

Good grief

Now go take a nap. Go watch the cricket. Forget you ever read this.

Madonna has lost the plot

I was watching Madonna’s Confessions tour on M-Net last night and could not help but think that Madonna has gone completely off her rocker. She is nuts. I was watching this whole thing unfold while reading a GQ and when I looked up I saw her giving the middle finger to the crowd. Stunned, I thought maybe I was just seeing things. Evidently not, this was real.

Then she sung this song which I think was called I love New York. So she starts saying “If you don’t like my attitude then you can fuck off. Go to Texas and suck George Bush’s dick” How out of control is that!? It’s insane. I couldn’t believe this million year old woman was using that language. I wanted to say “Do you kiss your kids with that mouth?”

Then in her other song she said she wanted to see the crowd jumping. Then she said she wanted to see London jumping. Then she wanted to see the whole world jumping. Then out of the blue she just shouts “Come on mother fuckers!” This whole thing was unfolding before my eyes like some sort of Punk’d show. I was too shocked to move and had no idea what the hell was going on. Seriously, that whole show was worth watching just to experience her foul language. Bet her kids and Guy are mighty impressed by her behaviour. Now that’s fucked up.

Pimp Your Priests Ride

If you see this car look who’s driving

Because it’s a new year, and I’m having fun, I thought I would post this article which is very stupid, but it could be very true.

Thinking back to Christmas day when I had to go to church, I looked at the donation bowl going round and I began to wonder how much cash the church makes. I mean, and I’m not going to lie to you, I saw a hefty wad of cash in that bowl. And I wondered what happens to all that money. Because people just blindly hand over their everything to the church. My mom is one of those people. She wanted to give a computer printer to the church. Given half a chance I think she would give me to the church. But I know they don’t want me. But where would this printer go to? Would it perhaps hook up to the priests 17” Apple MacBook Pro? I bet its colour would match his Samsung flat screen TV nicely as well.

But seriously, where does all this money go? I looked around the church and it’s not as if they have hung any new paintings up or put in a flat screen TV. There are no new chairs, no new anything. So this money must be going somewhere. I’m keeping my eyes wide open these days. Whenever I walk past a fancy restaurant or bar I’m going to take a look inside to see if the priest is dining on crayfish and prawns or sipping on a Glenlivet 21 year old whiskey. I’m sure he lives a lavish lifestyle, funded by people’s blindness. I don’t mean to make a mockery of the Christian faith, but I think I make a very valid point. So next time you see a helicopter flying around, or a Ferrari burning up the streets, don’t just stare in amazement. Take a look who is inside, it may just be your local parish priest.

Another thing I’m finding amusing today are the sms’s that are being sent to me. Every year it’s the same cheesy sms’s that drive me mad. They are so stupid that I’m quite embarrassed that people I know actually sent them. This is an example:

May good luck stalk you and happiness attack you wherever you go. May your miseries be hijacked and may they pickpocket all of your worries. Happy 2007!

Someone is trying to fuck with my head by sending this. Who wrote this tirade of crap? It’s so bizarre I don’t know what to say. So I shall sit in silence.

Ok

Everything is silent

Except for the alarm in my head ringing and saying “Who the fuck wrote this?”

And of course Fleetwood Mac is making a nice little noise in my ears.

The weekend we had

Firstly, happy new years everyone! Hope you can’t remember the night, or are just still partying. I have a good feeling about 2007, it just feels right. Enjoy the day and if you are in Cape Town I don't think the weather could be better. Now onto the weekend that was…

Saturday

So the weather turned shit once again on Saturday and a plan was hatched to visit the Victoria and Alfred Waterfront apartment (God that sounds pompous) of Ross the intern from the ad agency. I won’t mention the ad agencies name, I don’t hand out free advertising unless blank cheques are handed over. It was a small group but we still managed to be filthy as usual. The conversation turned filthy as soon as the girls went inside to discuss lip gloss and Brad Pitt. The coals were lit (Well not really…the gas braai was lit) and we promptly threw another shrimp on the barbee. Gooday mate to that.

From the view, you will see the weather was quite nice. In actual fact it was quite whore-ish. Actually it was not as bad in the Victoria and Alfred Waterfront as it was in Rondebosch. The people on the Waterfront side of the mountain have this unique relationship with the world where if they want the weather to change, it does. It still rained a bit and was cold, but it was a touch better than the other side of the mountain. December and it’s raining in Cape Town. I’m phoning the weather office as I type to ask for better weather, this is unacceptable. How am I supposed to turn into a bronzed gladiator if it’s raining? It’s crazy times here. I want hot sun. Now dammit! Also please take note of the lone, what I like to call “Cabana Hut”, sitting by itself on the waters edge(above photo). I think it is a Cabana Hut where women go to be oiled up before hitting the sun. Job applications are being frantically filled out as I speak, or type at least.

I was trying to look over the balcony to see if any neighbours were around. Because then I can check to see if the rich womens husbands are at home. If not then I can pull in there, blackmail her and then steal vast amounts of money. There were no neighbours around though so they must all be summering in the Hampton’s. Or maybe somewhere cheaper… like Monaco. Just look at the photo here of all the empty apartments. It makes you want to use the “48 hour rule” that the squatters in South Africa use. Move into a place that is not yours and if you are there longer than 48 hours or something then no one can evict you. It’s a fucking stupid rule, but in this case it could work to my advantage.

I was quite disappointed with the weather as I had brought a nice chilled white wine to drink, but it ended up giving me brain freeze. If there is any brain to freeze.

I wore shorts which was stupid. It got seriously cold later on and I started to freeze. I survived though, I must be a distant relative of Chuck.

You will also notice that there is quite a lot of building going on. When the new hotel is up it should quickly fill with the world’s hottest women. So we will be visiting Ross’s apartment every day from then on.

Then the one girl who was supposed to arrive didn’t because I heard from Mike she was sick. I could not really hear what Mike was saying because as soon as he said “she’s not coming” I felt my stomach knot up, turn like a cement mixer and then I felt like vomiting. I was going to propose to her right there. Now I’ve lost my nerve, and the ring. Fuck it, my heart is shattered. Pass the superglue.

Sunday

New Years eve we headed back to Ross’a apartment. New Years turned out disastrous when a 7am sms woke me up saying the party I was supposed to be going to was cancelled when the host, Meg, got sick. Not knowing what do to I was resigning myself to a New Years wondering around the house by myself with a bottle of chilled wine wondering “What has my life come to?” Anyway, then a plan was brought forth by my brother, inviting me to a “Vegas pool party” somewhere in Hout Bay. The name sounded good enough for me! So I called up my mate Mike to see if he wanted to go but he was still sick, so that plan was then cancelled. A last minute call from Ross the intern(Well it’s 2007 now so he’s the ex-intern) saved the day when he said I should pull through to the Waterfront and have a couple of drinks with him and is friend from America, Courtney. I was in.

I headed through there at about 7pm and cracked open a bottle of wine, and we admired the view and how light it was in summer. It was 7pm and I believe the sun was still shining. The night’s best laugh was brought on by a security guard in his speedboat patrolling the water in front of the apartment. Either drunk or high, or both, we watched him drive his boat head on into the railings. I mean come on, how do you crash your boat into the fucking railings! You have virtually an entire ocean to cruise around in and you crash, amazing. Clearly the festive season drugs taking their toll on our mans motor neurons.

We then decided to visit Bascule for one drink before heading to wherever we were going to go. We chilled there and ate all the free nuts and stuff that were given to us. Because if it’s free, it’s for me! Then tiring of the smell of whiskey we wanted something nastier smelling so it was Ross’s clever idea to go stroke the seals, or walruses, or Llamas or whatever the fuck these things were. Photos to follow once I steal Ross’s camera from him. They were making the most incredible noise and it was scaring me, but I think Ross was enjoying touching them for some sick reason. Then Courtney decided she wanted a photo with them as well. I had pictures in my head of me ending up in jail for being an accessory to murder after two Americans in South Africa get eaten by seals. Or walruses. Or Llamas. Then Ross decided to run after them and promptly chased them all off the boardwalk, sending these one ton big bitches jumping (or flopping) into the water at about 10pm. Well worked Ross.

We then went to Alba to see in 2007. I think the highlight there was asking (Because I’m cheap) these people if I could eat the food that they had not eaten. So I promptly whisked up their platter of spring rolls and all sorts of other nice stuff, and ate like a demon. Fuelled up again I smashed a glass of wine, some more champagne and then was dizzy. The dizziness subsided though when the fireworks went off and some guy decided to set off a flare at the same time. The flare went up, drifted to the left, and landed. In a crowd of people. At a restaurant! Unbelievable! This flare just landed in this whole crowd and I don’t know what happened after that, I could not see. Not because my view was obstructed, but because I had lost those senses already.

After all that, we headed back to the apartment and I went to bed at about 3am while Ross and JP from Bascule stayed up the whole night. When I woke up at 7am they were still trucking. And that was it. A New years that looked disastrous but in the end turned out good. Very good. Indeed I say…

Now it’s time to fire up the Weber. Until then…enjoy the year, it’s going to be great.

I can’t believe I had the composure to write this so early on
New Years day. Amazing.