GQ namecheck us

I remember reading on 2oceansvibe ages ago about how Joblog were mentioned in some magazine, like Elle or something, I can't find the link now. 2oceansvibe have also been mentioned a fair share of times in various forms of media. Now it's our turn. It may not be big, but it's something. And it's in a real mans magazine, Gentleman's Quarterly.

I'm not really too alarmed at the whole thing, because it was my cheap way of marketing(That some of us know too well) that got me the mention in the first place. My name dropping came in the form of a letter to GQ, published in the letters pages for March 2007(Buy it NOW!) It will be on their website soon as well. Shit, this probably means that I better stop saying bad things about the chairs and swimming costumes GQ chooses for us. By the way, at Llandudno on Sunday I did not see one person wearing those tight swimming costumes. Ok, I did see one guy. But he was old and clearly had a fondness for smearing olive oil on himself just before hitting the beach.

So yeah, it's just a little mention, but it made my day. Shit, all this excitement and paranoia just before the blog awards.

I love it.

And I hope you do too.

GQ, I'd like to thank you guys. You have given me so much over the years that my life would probably be quite empty if it weren't for you. And the new GQ is seriously worth reading, I think the guys have clearly been inspired by the new year. Check out their covergirl Ariadne Artiles (The Greek Goddess of Love perhaps?) and our Candice Boucher. She has very intense, mesmerizing eyes.

Look, I won't go too much into an ego trip on this article, I will let the endorsement(Well, kind of) by GQ speak for itself.

Now go rest.

You deserve it.

November rain

Well if this is not my best song ever, then I don't know anymore. I was perusing my brothers Mac the other day and found Gun's 'n Roses in his iTunes library. I pumped out the “November Rain” and in the process blew my mind. It seems to be the soundtrack to my life right now. Whether I want to braai, party, chill, cry, shout, whatever, November Rain is my ticket for any mood.

Right now I feel like watching Lords of Dogtown. Gun's 'n Roses makes we want to watch it even more than before, better than before.

Moving on.

Sunday is the Cape Argus mountain bike ride in Spier, I think. Or it could be Boschendal. Either way, I should find out seeing as though I have entered the “I'm tougher than Chuck-Fuckin'-Norris” 55km MTB ride. I was such stupid boy when I sent that entry in. Must have been sunstroke. Or boredom.

Then, God forbid, one week later I ride the Argus, 109km of sheer joy. Then about a month later it's the Two Oceans half marathon, then the next month it's the Xterra off road triathlon in Grabouw. At this rate my body should completely pack up by mid-June. When I crawl the last three kilometres at the Xterra, I want Axl Rose to be singing in my ear “Nothing lasts forever, and we both know hearts can change”, a line from November rain. It will let me know that the race will not last forever, and my shattered heart will be repaired. He must carry on singing the song as I am bundled into the ambulance. As I look out the back window of the ambulance, a look of pain on my face, crowds cheering in my wake, women throwing their clothes at me, sheer agony and ecstacy from winning the race, I want to hear Axl soulfully singing “Do you need some time, on your own, do you need some time all alone, oooh every body needs some time on their own, don't you know you need some time, all alone” Shit, this soundtrack even works for me leaving the Xterra completely broken.

We are experiencing something life changing here.

We must absorb this moment into our inner zen. Now I'm talking bullshit.

Axl, you're my boy.

Second in line to Blue of course, who is my BOY!(Watch Old School)

There was something else I had to say that I read on News24 last night, but now I can't find the story. I can't even remember what it was about. Come to think of it, maybe I just dreamt it.

Well I did find a story about a man in the US who died when he veered into an oncoming lane of traffic and hit a Hummer. Granted, authorities say that it appeared that he was working on his laptop while driving, so this result can be expected. Stupid.

Another thing...

If you were privileged enough to be watching E-tv on Saturday night at 21:40, you would have seen American Psycho, with the bus himself, Christian Bale. The first time I heard of this film I thought it was going to be scary and freaky and shit, but I ended up laughing when I watched it. Because it was so bizarre, you had to laugh.

One of the stranger moments was when he was running down the passageway of an apartment block, kit off, with a chainsaw in his hands! It was so odd, that I found it quite amusing. What a nutter!

Then another memorable moment was when he was shagging some bird, all the while flexing his guns and checking them out in the mirror. That is legendary! How funny is that? I find it to be mind bending.

I also caught Deal or no Deal on M-Net last night, and I must comment on the models they used to open the suitcases, they were spectacular! Marvellous actually! I sat in awe, completely shocked that women so hot actually existed. Mind you, we did see some absolute stunners at Llandudno yesterday. There was a little model shoot going on and I must remark that the model they were using had a very nice bum. So we pulled up just next to them, only to have them move. Clearly the models were getting jealous of our looks, and wanted to move away so they could concentrate on the work at hand. Don't worry, love, all is forgiven.

It felt like I was on Laguna Beach yesterday. There was a girl in front of us who for some reason reminded me of Lauren(Or LC I think) from Laguna Beach. What a body.

I thought I would include the above photo, which is from The Pink Palace Of Porn(Registered Trademark) in Hout Bay. I was just surveying my territory. That was after getting to bed at 4am, and waking up at 9am. Not too shabby, Nige. Crazy times

A little something...

To start your week off in a weird way

Because I know EXACTLY what you find funny, I chose this article for it's absurdity. It's from the Southern Suburbs Tatler, February 22, 2007. I read it a few times because I could not really believe it. It blows my mind every time. I'm actually going to go so far as to say that this is truly fucked up. This is what I read:

Bishop kidnapped

Youth of Bethany Full Gospel Church in Lansdowne, kidnapped their pastor to raise funds for the church(And this is true-look at the Tatler-you can't make up a story as absurd as this-Sean) During the second morning service one Sunday, Dr Louis Jordaan, the pastor of the church, had the surprise of his life when he was forcibly removed by two armed, hooded men. He was led away, handcuffed, with a hood over his head(Now would be a good time to recite that part in the Bible...Jesus wept-Sean) “People were paralysed, not knowing whether this was a real kidnapping or not. If there was any doubt in their minds, they were convinced it was real when Dr Jordaan's wife, Bridget, was so overwhelmed by the kidnapping that she fainted. She was later “resuscitated” by paramedics,” said Alta van Heerden, public relations officer for the church. Shortly after the kidnapping, a strange, muffled voice was heard over the public address system, demanding money for the release of Dr Jordaan. Congregants were visibly relieved when the youth of the church ran down the aisles shaking bags to demand money for the release of Dr Jordaan.

One thing.

FUCK

ME

Are they actually being serious? I'm waiting for a call from the Tatler saying “Oh shit, I got you good you fucker!” Is this the way we raise money these days? Look, I'm all up for a bit of humour, and I'm pissing myself as I write this, but in a country where crime is off it's tits, this is not really funny, especially if you were there.

Firstly, “People were paralysed...” You fucking bet they were! Would you not be? I would be phoning my friends telling them they can have my porn collection when I die. After the St James Church Massacre all those years ago, I don't really see too many people being amused by this kidnapping. I mean, I find it funny now. Not the kidnapping, but just the craziness of carrying this out. And kids were involved in the whole thing. Mmmm...don't we set a good example for the youngsters these days?

Secondly, we have people who carry guns. What if someone had seen this whole shindig going down, and decided to shoot the “kidnappers” Granted, this is highly unlikely, but this stuff happens. Imagine old man Cedric pulled out his gat and fired a round at the kidnappers, would there not be trouble then?

Thirdly, if you look around at church, most people are old. They can't handle the stress of a kidnapping in their church. What if some oldie died of a heart attack?

I just don't see a kidnapping being funny anywhere. No, seriously, it's really stupid.

This is truly bizarre. I see a flood of letters going to the Tatler to complain about this, and I will keep you posted. Shit, this country is off the hook at the moment.

Please also note: In yesterday's Sunday Times, in the News and Opinion section, page 21, there is a guy whose name is Chuck Norris! He runs a TV repair shop and also fought in Iraq. I never thought I would see the day that there was another Chuck Norris. We are experiencing a miracle right here. Take this moment in. Savour it. Treasure it.

Enjoy this...with popcorn

While we don't want to pay too much attention to Miss Spears, you should do yourse;f a favour and visit my link on the right of the page to X17. Currently, the photo's of Brit are a complete fuck show. She is going at photographers with an umbrella! When she first shaved her head I was still kind of cool with that, in a weird way. But now that it's had the week to sink in, and after these photo's, I can confidently claim that she is completely fucked, baked, blazed, whatever you want to call it.

I have never in my life seen someone more in need of Rehab than her. God, even Charlie Sheen calling Denise Richards all those names a while ago is seeming tame, because deep down we know Charlie was joking, because he is a funny guy.

Enjoy this with a box of Woolworths popcorn. Seriously, Woolworths are so cool they don't have microwave popcorn in a bag. They have it in a box. Respect.

This man is wise, like a Buddha

I always like it when people in the public eye are not afraid to say exactly what they think. Sometimes it seems as though celebrities, especially in SA, are afraid to say bad things about people, because it's such a small industry and they don't want to lose out on work opportunities. But then again, when you are a Crazy Monkey, you can say what you want.

You will all know Gavin Williams from Crazy Monkey on MTV, and he is now the editor of the weekly mens magazine, Krew. In the January/February issue of GQ, on the back page, is a piece written by Gavin Williams.

I found myself quietly amused when reading what he has to say, because he is so right. On Tanit Phoenix, he has this to say:

...Ultimately she's really nice(bordering on flirtatious) with the people who matter- and a bit of an ice queen to those who don't. Would do anything to get a page in the press, including claiming to be a lesbian now and mourning Brett Goldins death(His Crazy Monkey co-star- murdered last year)

So, so true! I might add that other things she does to get in the press is tan topless at the beach, then act shocked when the pictures get in all the magazines- claiming she had no idea someone was taking photos. Yeah. Sure. Also, the whole thing with Roland Schoeman was really fake. Those cheesy pictures of them hugging in a shopping centre were too pathetic for words. Who hugs like they did? It was seriously bad acting guys.

Another thing he says is:

People who dress all 'funky' or even use the word are always the least creative. The 'I'm crazy me' dress sense is for people who are completely rubbish at original thought.

True again! I am always amazed at these fashion designers who wear jackets that look like curtains, over a polo neck jersey with huge sunglasses on their head-for show. Think complete toss head Robert Verdi on E! entertainment. He should be out of a job.

But yeah, Gavin Williams is a guy I would totally agree with. It's cool to see someone speak their mind without worrying what others think.

I actually just found Tanits Myspace page(Ryk Neethling was online when I went on- what a bus) and someone commented saying Krew magazine had gone under-as in closed down. Has it? I actually never ever saw it on the shelves, so maybe Gavin does not still work there. Anyway.

5fm High 5@5

I probably wrote that headline completely wrong, but anyway.

Ok, so the site for Rory Eliot, previously Plush, has been updated. Check it out at www.plush.us(I have added it to the links under "Rory Eliot singer") All you have to do to vote for the song is sms "Hi 5 Rory Eliot When Grace Grew Tall" and send this off to 33345. It's that easy! Hurry!

As I said previously you can listen to the song on Rory's Myspace page(Also in the links, "Rory Eliot Myspace")

Take it easy

What makes this person so great?

I'm always amused when I hear actors talking about movie directors. They fall all over themselves trying to describe how great they are, how great their vision was and how easy they are to work with. Mostly, these directors are over rated. When I worked on the set of Ask The Dust, the director, Robert Towne, seemed like a complete toss.

He sat around all day smoking cigars, walking around with his crutch, and just being lazy. He would get up to move to his next position, and just leave his briefcase and everything where it was. It was expected, and known, that someone else would carry it for him. I don't care how rich you are, how respected you are, but you should always have a degree of decency and manners. Never once did I see him say thanks to anyone for carrying his stuff. What a tool.

All the other people on the set were great, except for the lighting guy who seemed to think that he was God's gift to the film industry. Hell, even Colin Farrell was pretty chilled out, if he had his smokes and coffee.

Now onto the topic, Annie Leibovitz(Photo above), described in the August-September 2004 GQ as "One of the greatest portrait photographers of our time" Now I am in no way a photography expert, but what is the difference between her photos and another top photographers? Do we not sometimes get caught up in the hype of these people? Do they not themselves turn into celebrities? I have seen some of Annie Leibovitz's work, and yeah I suppose it is good, but I still don't see the hype. Often such hype is created by these people, we fell the need to honour them, but we don't know exactly why.

Martin Scorsese is looking for an Oscar win this year for The Departed. Sure, he is probably a good director, but more so than anyone else? I don't believe so. It's just that such hype has been created about him for not winning an Oscar, that actors feel they need to praise him heavily because they know that sooner or later, in Hollywood, he will win. Maybe that's why they want to work with him, because they know he is always working ultra hard at making an Oscar winner, and maybe they want to be part of the Oscar phenomenon, rather than the Martin Scorsese phenomenon.

Same goes for artists. In the GQ of January/February 2007, under "50 things a man does not have to do before he dies" is a piece on the Mona Lisa. They say that the painting is unremarkable. And they say if you had not heard the hype about it, you would not be in the slightest way impressed by it. As they say:

Sure, her eyes follow you around the room, but then so do those of the prostitutes on Sea Point Main Road.

The point is, the hype about these people often consumes us, and we are like a bunch of sheep who just follow each other saying "Shit, that person is good"

But if we stop and ask ourselves "What exactly makes this person so good at what they do?" We may be stuck for an answer because we don't exactly know.

But we can always just say "Because GQ said so..."

Hunter S Thompson

There was a tribute to Hunter S Thompson on 2oceansvibe on Tuesday. I was reminded of him by this tribute, and by the fact that someone who was at college with me last year wanted to be exactly like Hunter. He wrote while smoking pot, drinking beer and doing coke.

One day we decided to visit him because he had not been to college for a few days, and knowing his self destructive life style, we arrived at his flat. I did not know what to expect really. Anyway a friend of mine started shouting his name, because his door bell did not work. So he comes out, and I was standing quite far away from him. Being someone who does not get outdoors much he was always a little pale.

But this day was the worst. I said to my mate that maybe we should leave him alone because he was looking quite bad, all pale and shit. Turns out he had shaving cream on his face, and this combined with the bright sun and the white painted balcony, made him look like he had come out of some sort of twilight zone. Anyway we went inside to check up on him, when suddenly his nose started bleeding. He had been to a trance party and had been coking it up solid for a day or two.

Anyway, that's a little background into how I came to know more about Hunter, because of my college mates obsession with him.

Anyway I was paging through a Mens Health(May 2006) and came across an article on addiction. It is written by a man who was an editor at Playboy during the seventies(Can you imagine? It must have been reckless) He says the following, and it's classic of Hunter S Thompson:

I first met Hunter Thompson at the Sunset Marquis, in Hollywood. My first wife, Carolyn, and I spent some time in his room and she got to watch as Hunter and I consumed large quantities of alcohol and drugs. Then we went driving in his huge red rental car. Hunter drove with a bottle of Wild Turkey between his knees and took bubbling gulps from it now and then. I recognised a kindred spirit when I saw one, though Hunter was way out of my league.

The next time I saw him was at a party in Chicago. Someone had brought 200 grams of cocaine. It sat in a huge pile on the coffee table and people came and went, sucking it up. I was standing nearby when Hunter made his entrance. He did this by filling his mouth with lighter fluid, then spewing it out while striking a match in it's path. A sheet of flame preceded him into the room. Unfortunately, he was so stoned his aim was off. By the time a few friends put me out, the hair had been burnt off my arms, neck and part of my head.

I sat Hunter down and said, as calmly as I could, “If you ever do something like that to me again, I will kill you.”
He nodded, urgently chewing his cigarette holder, his eyes revolving madly in their sockets. “And you'd have every right to. It'd be a matter of honour. I expect you to do that.”

Now just imagine being at that party, seeing Hunter S Thompson, the creator of gonzo journalism, walking in, with flames around him and some guy from Playboy on fire, it must have been totally off the hook. I wish I could tell stories like that! That is legend. And it's Hunter, because only he could do something like that, and be so calm about the whole thing. You have to love it. Shit, the 70's must have been crazy times.

New links

I put some new links up on the right, check them out if you like. Especially The Cool Hunter, it's a really, well I guess, cool site. It's just loaded with cool holiday destinations, photos and the like. TMZ and X17 for photos of celebrities if that is your thing and Forbes for money making tips. Rory Eliot for updates on his music and Make Trade Fair because we should try to do something good from time to time.

Wish you were there

Pretoria/Tshwane

Let's throw more money away, because we can

Ooooh some deep thoughts coming into my head. Stick with me, I will lighten up later, it's just a bit cloudy. The sun usually brings me back to life. Wrote this on Wednesday morning.

I am quite intrigued by this whole move to rename Pretoria as Tshwane. I don't know about you, but I don't see the point of this whole exercise, other than another move to mention apartheid and to spend money. If the government did it's research, they would realise the future of this country don't really give a damn about these names. Do you see young people debating this topic? Maybe I'm generalising, but I have never once stood round the braai where any of my friends, black or white, have brought up this whole Pretoria debate. In short, they don't give any thought to it for the most part. What they do care about is when the food is going to be ready, where the rest of the beers are and if our mates are going to be long with the ice. It's just not something that anyone spends time discussing. People our age can never ever bring apartheid into any discussion, well at least a personal one, because they have not experienced it.

Let's stray from the topic here. Look at the tug boat the John Ross. A tug boat that became legendary as being the toughest tug in the world. Suddenly black empowerment came in and renamed it the Smit Amandla. This means nothing to me. To me, it is still the John Ross. It was the John Ross at it's peak, and that's the way it will stay. Not because it's a white name, but because THAT WAS IT'S NAME! If it was the Smit Amandla back in the day, I would not want it to be renamed the John Ross today. And so this Pretoria renaming is getting out of control.

You can rename things as much as you want, but then we may as well rename “South Africa” Yes, we are in the South of Africa, but then this name has to change. Because when apartheid is mentioned, it will always be “Apartheid South Africa” We were the only ones with apartheid. We took all the abuse for it, for formally naming it. If you go to America today, or if you watch the movie Borat, you will realise racism is still rife there. In fact, in those small towns it is probably as bad as apartheid. But it has no formal name.

What the government fails to realise, is that to today's youth, we really don't care about apartheid. We don't talk about it because we did not experience it. We are not trying to ignore it, but we just were not there at the time.

My folks may speak about the 70's and how great the parties were then, but that's because they were there. In the same way I don't speak about the 70's and the parties, I don't speak about apartheid. Not because I'm ignorant, but purely because I WAS NOT THERE! It's actually that easy. It's really that simple. We obviously need to know about it, but it just gets out of control when we decide to rename everything. We don't need to go into deep government debate about this, we just need to speak to the people. Older people work like that. Instead of seeing what's happening on the street, like our record label boys, they would rather debate it amongst themselves in a nice office while they are served tea and snacks. It's much simpler that way, and it also means they don't have to go to all the hassle of speaking to the man in the street. Besides they can't go out in public anyway, because EVERYONE wants to kill them. Do they honestly think they are JFK? Does anyone really want to kill our president? I don't think they do. He's not such a bad guy that they want to kill him.

I can see people wanting to kill George W, but Thabo, I highly doubt it.

And so it seems, the youth are neglected once again, because we are stupid. We drink too much, we smoke too much, we are not intelligent. We know nothing about the world.

Maybe we don't know exactly how the world works, but maybe we do know a little something. Maybe in between all those parties and days on the beach, we have something insightful to say, or think, or do. Maybe if someone bothered speaking to us, they could learn something.

Tell me this, have any of you government boys ever bothered speaking to us? That's what I thought.

Idols

I was just reading on Forbes website an article about the American version of Idols, and it reminded me of this show and what a waste it is.

Whenever I listen to a band at a club, or just hear new music that is really good, I can't help but think these bands are losing out. They are the ones not getting record contracts, not being playlisted and they are also the ones who are working the hardest. They are playing at gigs all around the country, often to small crowds. But it is these crowds who spread the word, and these bands often have huge audiences in the cities, but no contracts. They are writing their own songs, performing them, and doing everything that SA's record labels are not. What do our boys at the record labels actually do? Do they even know what is on the street?

I think they are too wrapped up in their own little world of a comfortable office, waiting for bands to approach them. And bands do approach them. But what they fail to see is the crowds going out to clubs on weekday nights to watch these guys play live. They fail to connect with this vibe, this lifestyle, and instead just hear their rough recordings that are sent to them. They don't get a feel for the clubs where these guys are playing, the atmosphere created when a small crowd of maybe 150 people are loving every moment of the performance. They don't see the looks on people's faces when this music is being played. Instead all they see is a tape, or a CD, sitting emotionless on their table. They are missing the whole point of their entire industry. But when it comes to making a quick buck, they jump in.

It's easy money. They know that by giving an "Idol" a record contract, that sales will be good. They know that holiday at the end of the year is guaranteed and that that new order on the Mercedes is sorted. Look at Anke, a previous Idol. Where is she today? Did anyone really like her music, did she ever write songs? Or were we just blinded by the fact that she was a shy Afrikaans girl and we thought we should give her a chance?

Where is the passion in these Idols? I can't answer any of this, but it is intriguing. I don't necessarily believe a good voice will make you a good singer. Just like natural sporting talent will not always win you the competition. You need something inside of you, a desire to be the best, to win. You will often hear of athletes who are not as physically capable as their opponents, but they will still beat them, because they want to. It's not for money, it's for themselves.

And so our "Idols" seems to be interested in the car, the prize money, the instant "celebrity" Everyone wants to be famous. And it's not that hard these days. Just appear on ANY TV show and you have fame sorted. You will be in YOU magazine, you will get offered to endorse things.

But that does not make you a good singer, and it's not going to make me respect you or buy your CD

Train trippin'

Well the whole Simons Town trip did materialise, with myself and about 15 other slackers deciding that a train trip from Rondebosch to Simons Town would be a fantastic idea.

We ended up getting off the train at Kalk Bay, so we would have a bit more time to chill. We probably should have left earlier, but we have a whole year ahead of us. A whole lifetime in fact. Endelss summer, oh yeah. Then as we stepped off we were presented with our home from homes, Cape Towns CBD, The Brass Bell. We literally stepped out the carriage into Brass Bell, now that is a good concierge service! Very impressed. Unfortunately when we arrived they were not properly open and we could not order drinks unless we had exact change. Fuck. One beer less for me. Some boys went for a little smoke, as you will see by the photo. And if you smoke, you will know that that is NOT how you smoke a cigarette. Enough said. Good times.

The train trip was bizarre though, you meet so many weird people! There was some stoner dude(No not one of us), cruising through the carriage, dreadlocks and all, with a beer in his hand just taking it easy. With no shirt on. Then there were some other drunks, who kind of got a bit irritating, taking our video camera(A proper one, not a handheld) and making their own video with it. Onto the cutting room floor.




Then there were some old people and some, quite evidently, regulars. Everyone seemed to know each other, giving high fives as they walked on board. The bar is great, and is the only way to travel. I would not consider travelling on the train without that bar. It sends out a good vibe.

I know we are not really encouraged in SA to ride the train, for safety reasons, but shit we had a good time. Look I would not take the train alone, or at night, but this carriage is decent. There is a bar there and so there are people watching, and there is a restaurant next door, and the people are quite respectable.

It would actually not be a bad idea to take the train from Rondebosch to Simons Town, then all the way back to Cape Town and then back To Rondebosch. Just ride the train, meet some people, gain new perspective on things. It's like one big party on there.

I reckon a carriage strictly devoted to partying should be introduced, where you can hire out the carriage. You would go completely mad, it's that much fun. So next time you are taking the train, remember to take “Biggsy's Restaurant Carriage” Shit, imagine taking that bad boy to work? It would be nuts. You would arrive completely hammered and not give a shit if you get fired. Hell, I would get fired just so I can get on the train again.

And it only cost us R17 each for the trip.

I wish you were all there.

Reminds me of the song by Johnny Cash, Folsom Prison Blues

“I hear that train a coming, it's rolling round the bend...”

Good times.

Ben Trovato

I know, after being alerted to www.shaunoakes.com, that Shaun is Cape Town's favourite son. After JZ, that is. Zuma. Legend in a shower cap. But another favourite son has to be Ben Trovato. I always like reading his column in the Cape Times, but because he is not always published on the same day, I never know when exactly to buy the paper and I don't buy it every day because murder and the like are not my preferred reading matter.

But Ben is a class act. I have written on him before, but since I bought someone his latest book "Hits and missives: The worst of Ben Trovato" I have been in touch again with how good he is. Some of you won't get the humour, and you may have to read a couple of his columns to gain insight into how the great man works. Like many writers, he seems to write under a pseudonym. Look him up in the telephone directory and he will not be found. No photos exist of his face. He always has a hat covering part of his face. He is like the great enigma, a puzzling being. He is also under rated.

After he finished his back page articles for GQ last year, no one likes him. Barmen hate him, Tom Cruise despises him, Tony Yengeni hates him, everyone does. I don't though, I think he brings a certain something to his writing that sets him apart. All his stories are clearly made up, but they are great. It's worth a read. Even better are his books where he writes letters to various people, often with a monetary gift enclosed(Always R10) Classy.

To read his latest column, and many more, link here: http://www.iol.co.za/index.php?click_id=2904

Seriously, I've called it

Ok this whole Joblog has been totally blown out of proportion and seems to have taken up the better part of 24 hours. If you recall a previous post, I have called it. It's over. Let's keep our pants on, boys.

Urk still posted more comments on my "No offence, but" post, and said something about the fact that I should visit a link he gave and he would give me an ice cream. Ok. Seriously, no offence but...I'm allergic to milk so I have to turn this offer down. I did visit the link though and I quite enjoyed it, so shot for that. Now if we could all turn our minds to other important things that would be great. To reiterate, I have called it. But it did get some comments on Joblog, glad we got some people talking. there were 16 comments to their post on me, which is quite admirable. Over such a small matter though, that was supposed to be chilled out. I knew some guys from Joblog might see my post because I had commented on their posts before, and left my link. Now I've been called a tit, a doos, idiot, little boy, lad. Jesus, that's enough for one day. But I'm from Cape Town, we can handle it. These things slip right through our mind when we realise what an awesome place we live in(Photo above, Noordhoek)

Anyway I'm totally over it now. Pics of the Simons Town train trip to follow, not that anyone is viewing us anymore.

Anyway, that's me, take it easy.

Now, now, lets not get ahead of ourselves

Glad to see everyone got over the outrage, saw the light, chilled out, let the good times roll. I published all the comments and then only read them. But I leave for a few hours to do some work(Photo above. Ok it will be above when this photo thing works) and it's mutiny here. Comments flying everywhere, anger, shit, sorry, didn't mean for all this to be. As my dad(Conan) always says "Settle down my babies. Keep cool my babies" Anyway, I'm over it, as are you no doubt. Yes I have called it. I'm over it. We all are. But thanks for the airtime, or webtime, on Joblog. No doubt it's once off,you guys fell for the cheap ploy, but it was good times. Or was it? You guys are the best. Respect

Now where were we. Oh, that's Noordhoek beach I think(When the photo is up). I was a little dehydrated so it could be something completely different. I'm busy punishing a Windhoek, and it's good. I wish you could all feel what I'm feeling now. I wish you could have seen what I saw from the mountain this morning. I have completely lost my mind now, I need to go lie down. More after...

One of Osbournes is HIV+

No really, this is true. This straight from www.news24.co.za:

London - Reality television star Kelly Osbourne has revealed that a member of her family is HIV-positive, according to British media reports on Monday.

The 22-year-old told an audience at an HIV benefit concert in London on Sunday night that the cause was close to her heart because a member of her family had been diagnosed with the virus.

Photographers present at the show in Camden, north London, reported that Osbourne sobbed before leaving the stage.

That is quite bizarre. I don't know who it is, and I suppose no one is saying. Jack and Kelly both did drugs, so an infected needle could mean it's Jack. Then again, Ozzy did a fair amount of drugs as well. It's all speculation, but maybe it's not one from their immediate family. Could be uncles, aunts, whatever. Keep an eye on www.eonline.com, they should carry the story as it breaks.

Until then be satisfied that yesterday was the busiest day on the blog, Britney's hair has not grown back(North or South) and K-Fed is still a tool.

I'm a tired lad right now, typing up responses to the SLXS marketing campaign, racking my brain for more crap for tomorrow, hammering a bottle of Jack(That's not true. Really), preparing for the train trip to Simons Town tomorrow, and generally coping with this weather that has left me a sweaty, albeit sexy beast. Ha! That's how you use "albeit"

As Frank the Tank once said "I love it" Or was that Rick James? No, Rick James said "Cocaine is one hell of a drug" Johnny Cash sang "Cocaine Blues" Kate Moss does cocaine.

Does this mean that cocaine makes the world go round? Well, if we look into Pablo Escobar, the Columbian drug dealer, then it does make the world go round(Oooh very nice Sean...turning this into an article). You will be intrigued to know that in 1989 Forbes magazine had him listed as the 7th richest man in the world.

Apparently at the peak of his "career" him and his boys controlled 80 percent of the worlds cocaine market.

At it's peak, the Medellin Cartel(Pablos "little" business) was apparently taking in up to $30 billion per year. Not bad going, Bob.

So yes, in short, cocaine does make the world go round. Read the full shindig on http://www.answers.com/topic/pablo-escobar


Oh, and Britney has a nice wig.

Well done Brit. One question, why shave the head, just to put a wig on? You are special.

You are a sweet child.

With something wrong in your head.

Sweet nonetheless.

We have a response

Yes, we have a response to my thing on Joblog. As I said, no offence, but hey we have to say these things. Look, our guys at ChumpStyle are probably going to win as well, and all we see on their pages are tits and ass.

Seriously, if we had to make this constructive, we could say that Joblog need to be more in depth, more funny, bring a sense of humour to it all. Why not write about what's happening at work? Work is always where all the shit happens. Why not use this to make your posts crazy? Put a couple of photos up of that stuff?

It's not Cape Town's fault that the beach calls us 24 hours a day and that we are so chilled out that we can laugh at ourselves. I think I am allowed to not like a site. I know the guys at Joblog don't like 2oceansvibe, because Seth has mentioned them before when they were mentioned in a magazine, and how all their posts were about traffic in Joburg. 2oceansvibe happen to be pretty good, and Seth has a sense of humour like no other. Maybe that's why not everyone likes him. Maybe that's why Joblog don't have them in their listings. Maybe Joblog do in fact read his blog(I think they do) and do in fact laugh out loud. Maybe...Maybe we all need a beer, a laugh, an "Oh my fuck I'm an idiot, I can't believe I said that about so and so's site" moment, a moment where we run in the vast fields outside Cape Town picking daisies, smearing Johnson's Baby Cologne on ourselves(I actually did this today, marvellous. I smell like a baby. Chicks love it). Wow, I totally lost it there.

And yes I do think an online encyclopedia is stupid. Wikipedia is dumb. I said it. You probably think I am stupid. But that's because I am. I don't hate people for this, this is their opinion. And I can handle people saying that to me. You think I am a tit. You're not the only one. I think so as well. I call my friends thing's like tit's and other disgusting whore names all day, and we dig it. That's the benefit of having Foetal Alcohol Syndrome like we do.

And the thing about the noose? That was a joke. I wouldn't really do it. In fact maybe I would if I won an award for best Business Blog, because I don't deserve that.

You see with Cape Town humour, you cannot win. Because we will laugh it off. Look at our boy Justin Nurse from Laugh It Off, he wins everytime! Do you think he would be such a legend if he didn't just laugh it off? I don't think so. In fact, he went to the same school as me. Maybe that's where the humour comes from. Maybe it's from all those years the school locked us in the basement as punishment. I don't even know where this post is going.

What I will say is in the previous post that first paragraph with the word "albeit" actually made no sense. I was getting ahead of myself with the wording and it didn't work. Clearly no one noticed though.

Well next time we go to Joburg maybe we will visit the Joblog people, maybe they are not bad, maybe they can laugh, maybe they will get over our previous post. I'm pretty damn sure Joblog don't think I should win, and they can say that. Seriously, I won't mind at all. I'm not going to be a complete tool to them if I see them though.

I may think Tony Leon is boring, but I was not a tool to him when I served him food at the embassy. I don't hate him. I don't hate the Joblog people, and I know their site is not supposed to be about laughing 24 hours a day. In any case, it's not like I reach the numbers Seth does, and so my voice is nothing.

Hell, do I think I might win? Probably not. Do I deserve an award for best blog? Probably not. But fuck it, it's been a laugh and 2oceansvibe will probably win. Because Seth has a slight advantage. As does Splattermail, because I suppose, it's really funny. In a sick way sometimes.

Actually come to think of it Seth's is an actual website, which technically keeps him out of the running.

I say we laugh, have a beer, a joint, a tik bulb, a crack pipe, whatever your thing is and chill out. This is easy to say as I look over the sea in Blaauwberg, with a brewskie in my left hand, my piece in my right hand(Jokes) and the ocean before me.

I think I know someone who wants to be seeing an ocean right now... I think I do! I see you wishing that the ocean was before you like it is before me

That's it I'm out, see you all tomorrow, when the anger has quelled(Update me on the meaning of this)

Oh, and about your comment about me not posting your comment on the Wikipedia thing, I have never ever rejected a comment. It obviusly did not come through. I only keep comment moderation on for people getting really dirty...like my friends. I don't mind posting things where people say they don't like me. Not everyone can love us. And you said you are not taking this post(Previous one) seriously. You were not supposed to. Did anyone take it seriously? Does anyone take this blog seriously? I don't think we do? Do you?

I have just been to Joblog, and seen that they have written an article on me. That's what I'm talking about! That's all we ever want, a little mention here and there. You see, by mastering the art of trash talking, you create more visitors to your site. Yes, I have been reading your guys site, you probably know that, and you should not have written an article on me, because this creates interest in me(Ok, possibly of the wrong kind). I know you guys get lot's of visitors, I know exactly what your site is about, and that's why the trash talk started. Just wanting to steal a reader or two. Maybe no one will like us. That's cool, then we still don't lose. Do you think I would be posting things like this if I was at the top like the other blogs, who get thousands of hits a day? No I wouldn't. You guys know this.

Ok I highly doubt we are going to gain any Joblog supporters, but hey if you are from Joblog, and dig the vibe, welcome! My previous post was a bit of cheap marketing for myself, and I promise the posts from now on won't be about Joblog and how bad they are, because I do in fact read them. Nothing like free marketing. I'm sick of getting 10 hits a day, and I thought a bit of publicity would be good.

You guys must master the art of trash talking. You know when Seth mentions you guys that it is a good thing. Do you realise how many fights Muhammad Ali won, even before they had started, just by trash talking? Billions. Trash talking wins competitions, maybe it will win us this one. As my friend Ali said "Keep it real"

No he didn't say it and he's not my friend, but it would have made a good end to my article.

I think I handled myself quite well here. AGAIN!

Let me now bask in my ego driven glory.

Ok I have to go now.

I love lamp.

I love kettle.

Keep it real. And please...laugh

No offence, but...

I am reminded at this time of the year of all the various blogs around, and it reminded me of a terrible, albeit(Nice wording Sean!) boring one. You may have heard of these guys, but I hope for your sake that you haven't.

It's Joblog.co.za. No I'm not joking. It's a blog from Joburg, and I was stupid enough to read some stuff and I'm sorry to say this...but they are below par. Especially in the humour department. And everyone in Joburg is always acting busy, going to "work", and doing important sounding things. They clearly don't have their priorities in order. All I'm saying is that if Joblog win an SA blog award this year, I am going to need a nice piece of rope.

With a noose.

So I can hang myself in the garden, right next to the fly trap. In the corner.

Their blog is so boring, so mind numbing and it is without any articles. For instance, we had "Cocaine train" and I thought that was a good article. A while back Joblog had an article about a nice new ice cream they had tasted. Good fuck. THAT is exciting.

So if they win, to honour true blogging, we shall not support the awards again. Because if they win, we know global warming is but a small problem in the world. And we are all going to need Tom Cruise and Oprah Winfrey to save us then.

That's all for now

Take it easy

And if it's easy take it home and give it a right seeing to

Something smells fishy

And it's not Paris or Britney getting out of a car with no underwear on(Much more than you...or I...needed to know)

I was basking in the sun at the pool yesterday reading the Sunday Times and I came upon a column called Wired by Damon Boyd.

In it, he says that reports coming out of the US say that Robbie Williams puts back 36 double espressos, 20 Red Bulls and 60 cigarettes EACH DAY. I promise you, there is enough caffeine and nicotine in there to kill a fucking llama. This sounds a bit much, even for my excessive way of thinking. Now I know Johnny Cash was known to knock back 100 pills a day, 50 uppers, and 50 downers, but in all essence he was fucking Johnny Cash! Johnny Cash can do what he wants, when he wants, without side affects(Except that motor neuron disease he now has, not surprisingly)

But Robbie is Robbie. His song Angels may make me cry myself to bed at night, he may have teenage girls wanting to sleep with him, but this gives him no right to abuse 36 double espressos, 20 Red Bulls and 2 packs of cigarettes every 24 hours.

If there is a doctor in the house then this is what I want to know: Is this all humanly possible? Would he survive one day of this abuse?

Are our US sources making this stuff up? Because to me it sounds like a little source is being very untruthful to The Robster.

Come on, let's see the truth.

Classic humour

Someone has just asked me about my Fokofpolisiekar post. They asked if I'm sure I was not looking at the two girls in white in FRONT of the three girls in white. Ha! Classic! I did not even see that. You guys are too funny. No really, you are.

And I'm spent

Fokofpolisiekar

Translating to "Fuck off police car"

We headed through to Kirstenbosch yesterday at about 4pm to catch Fokof playing at 5:30pm.

I suppose it's not really my type of music, seeing as I don't know what they are singing about, bt it was a cool vibe there anyway.

I was clearly graced by the presence of three young girls, all wearing white tops(Where is the rain when you need it) and sitting right in front of us. If they were any closer they would have been in big trouble.

It was clearly one of their tamer concerts, because as my friend Rob told me, at one of their concerts they were so fucked that the drummer jumped out of a moving car and broke legs and stuff and was out for a few months. So they had to get a replacement drummer for a while. I also knew it was tame when the lead singer, Francois van Coke, was seen afterwards drinking a Brutal Fruit. But no one can complain because he is fucking Francois van Coke, and he can drink whatever he feels like drinking. If he wants a Cosmopolitan, then give the man one dammit!

There were also the usual crowd surfers, and some who were not so good at surfing. One guy jumped into the crowd, and just went head first straight into the ground. What a class act!

As I say, the ladies in white were great, the music may take a bit of getting used to, I was tired from getting up at 4am, but hey, it was good times.

Nominate me

Hurry, hurry, hurry!

Ok, or just take your time.

Please enjoy this

Right now my favourite sites for pictures are www.tmz.com and www.x17online.com. Please do pay X17 a visit because their entire page is filled with Britney Spears at the moment. That's right, slut ho bag has, through her tattoo and head shave, managed to capture the world's attention. Clearly why she did all this shit in the first place. Well done Brit, I don't see you cracking the nod to appear on the cover of Cosmo, but I have no doubt that Redneck Times and Farmers Weekly will be giving you a call sometime soon.

As I say, congratulations Brit, not many people make the covers of these things.

Britney's clean shaven

This time it's her head

This women never ceases to amaze me. First she marries fuckshow K-Fed, who you can now call daddy instead, then she hangs out with her stuff out with Paris Hilton.

Apparently she returned from a rehab facility, where she stayed for less than 24 hours, then arrived at a tattoo parlour to get a pair of red lips tattooed on her wrist.

She was bald.

Let's have a moment for ourselves.





Britney is a single mom, she has shaved her head, she was married to white trash himself.

If you read the above sentence by itself, and forget how famous she is, it will sound like the classic American coke whore living in a trailer park.

Well done Brit, you have outdone yourself this time.

Classy

Griffin, I am your father!

Ryan O' Neal, above, completely loses his tits, and his bearings, and his mind...

I thought you would enjoy this story about actor Ryan O' Neal and his son Griffin. This is from CNN:

The actor told the Los Angeles Times that he arrived at his Malibu home Saturday night with a group of friends, including his former girlfriend Farrah Fawcett. They had been celebrating Fawcett's 60th birthday and that she is cancer-free after four months of treatment.

O'Neal's son Griffin, 42, who has a history of alcohol and drug problems, was visiting. O'Neal said Griffin grabbed a fireplace poker, started swinging it and grazed him four or five times.

He "aimed at my head, I ducked, he hit his own girlfriend in the head," O'Neal, 65, told the newspaper.

"I got a little nervous at that point and fled to my room ... and I got my gun," he said.

O'Neal said his son began to come up the stairs with the poker. "So I just fired it into the banister, and that scared him and he fled," he said.

Fucking hell! Imagine your son trying to clean you with a poker?! Cocaine is clearly one hell of a drug. Then to make it worse, he misses the old man and hits his girlfriend. With a poker! Unbelievable. Not just accidentally hitting the bird with a shoe, but a solid piece of steel!

Then, fuck, the old man just pulls out his gun and fires a shot or two! Imagine this happened in your family, it would be completely off the hook. Mind you, I probably would be able to handle this if my parents were loaded. Nothing a new house and car can't fix. Spending vast amounts of money is the ideal way to mend things with father and son.

Shit, where's that fucking poker my old man used to keep...

Coffee prices

This is an interesting site to look at if you drink coffee, especially if you are spending R10 0r R15 on a cup, or a latte, or whatever these places make these days. It's kind of strange, seeing as though coffee is seen as the drink of successful people these days. Places like Vida and Starbucks are trendy, and all the young, and successful people must be seen at these places. I have always found it a bit arbitrary to go drink coffee when you want to do something. Why coffee? It's as random as going to eat Skittles with someone. Mostly, I believe, places like Vida are there so people can be spotted. With Vida in town, the tables flow onto the street, where everyone can see you. Vida in Cavendish flows out into the hallways, with no barriers, so everyone can see you, what you are wearing, and generally you can put out that rich, successful vibe even if that's not who you are.

When you realise that virtually none of the money from your coffee is going to these farmers, it is rather disturbing. Once again, Africa gets exploited and no one really seems to mind. They are too busy fucking around in Iraq, killing kids. Once again, I guess, George Bush wins.

America always wins

This is the link:

http://www.maketradefair.com/en/index.php?file=issues_coffee.htm&cat=2&subcat=4&select=1

Ummm...don't wear fur

I was notified of this by Mike, who is in advertising, so naturally he needed to see this for market research. Basically what.

Basically what we

What I

What we need to

We must understand

Keep our composure

Let me gather myself for a second






Ok

What we need to do is honour our young Joanna Krupa and not wear our mink coats anymore. Because, dear God, she could tell me anything and I would listen.

If all these ad's were like this, I have no doubt there would be no need for fur coats and stuff.

She looks so good naked. It's all so natural. Like the world should be. It kind of just feels right. No, it feels fucking good.

So yeah, no fur, as Joanna has shown by not wearing a coat and by shavi...ok well you get the picture.

I'm going to the beach, you all take it easy.

And no fur

My SA band addiction

I'm really so into the South African band thing at the moment that it's crazy. It all started on Thursday night after watching Plush play at Sobhar. It blew my mind, again, at how good they are live. Seriously, how they don't get more airtime on the radios is a mystery. Granted, I don't listen to the radio much, but hey, my iPod works overtime.

Currently, I believe Plush are trying to get their song "Grace grew tall" onto 5fm's playlist. To be honest, 5fm play shit music, and if this song made it on, I have no doubt that it will clean up in the charts. What they want is for people to e-mail 5fm asking them to play "grace grew tall" and so pressure them to playlist it. I listened to it last night, and even as I write, it gives me shivers, realising what awesome music they are making. Go to Rory's(Lead singer, guitar) Myspace page at www.myspace.com/roryeliot to check out for updates on what's happening. You can also check them out at www.plush.us The Plush US site is out of date but you can still get the details there so you can e-mail various radio stations asking them to play Plush. "Grace grew tall" is the one that is looking to be playlisted, so that's the name to send in.

You can also listen to "Grace grew tall" on their Myspace page. I did. I still am. Awesome. Listening to them live has flipped my life upside down. Shit damn it's good.

I'm also currently listening to Seether and Just Jinjer, two other great SA bands, now based overseas. Damn their music is good. I don't support bands just because they are South African, but rather because they are good at what they do. I have listened to some gig's here and have nearly been put to sleep, just because the words seem to mean nothing to me.

So check out the Myspace page, listen to the song, request it on 5fm and rock out. They are also playing live in town on the 9th and 10th of March for a live recording they are doing. Will keep you up to date. It should be awesome.

The photo above is of Rory, with that enigma, The Incredible Schalk, at Alba in the Waterfront, with Schalk looking incredibly happy. Now that's good times...

What the fuck is this, Jim?

I just emptied out my post box, and found this note in it. If you're deeply religious, you may want to go to another happier site, like Bunniesplayinginthegrass.com(Actually this could be porn) Anyway, I have an apparent disregard for the religious people who put this crap in my letter box. The front page says:

The seafarer was wrecked almost at the foot of the Mouille Point light house. A light house does not call you towards it. It says, Look out! Danger ahead. This is false bay, or dangerous rocks ahead. STAY AWAY!

Jesus says, Matt. 11.28, I AM THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD.
COME TO ME, all you who...then the blabber continues on the next page.

I am loving their use of capital letters in the last section, to convey SHOUTING. Like they are ANGRY.

I also highly doubt the credibility of this story. I highly doubt the Mouille Point light house was around way back when. In fact I highly doubt Mouille Point was around then. In fact, this whole story sounds false. Shit, using a false story to bring us God's word. I'm APPALLED! SHOCKED!

Stop putting this stuff in my post box, now next time postie comes round to drop my mail order Thai boy, he will not fit in because it will be packed with all your preaching letters. And my life is nothing without my monthly Fed Ex of a Thai boy. $1, packaging and shipping included.

Now that's good times.

Tisk tisk...

Tuesday, now that was good times

Shit, Tuesday was off the hook! In between being the greatest writer that has ever lived, I help people out when I need to. Or shall I say want to. Now this topic is very sensitive, being an Embassy and shit. So no names will be mentioned. Don't want the special forces busting down my door.

So I was asked if I could take time out of my busy schedule to serve food at the Embassy(Oooooh which one? Can't say. Is the suspense eating you up inside?). Now usually I would turn such menial work down, but this offer was too good. I thought I would write about it and it would make a great article. And by George it did!

So we rolled in there at 5pm, me all dapper in a black pant, white shirt, chest all oiled up, and we were met by a security guard at the gate. Then we parked the car inside, and this guard made us open the bonnet so he could check if anything was in there. Then he checked under the car with a mirror to see if anything was there. Personally I don't hide my gimps and migrant Thai workers under the car, but rather in the boot. And guess what? He did not check the boot! How nuts is that? Jesus, I could have been hiding an atomic Thai boy in the boot. Thank the pope he did not check my pockets, because my tik bulbs were rattling in there like mother fuckers. So then we made our way up the driveway, myself and two girls(Pimp pimp), and we were met by another three security guards. I was beginning to feel like this was the Fort Knox my parents told me about.

Then we started serving food and drinks and shit, and I could not help but think that these people were too bizarre for words! I saw Tony Leon(Shorty) and Patricia de Lille('Lil Trish, as I like to call her) arbing about, showing face. I would have taken photos if it were not for the fact that there were about 5 dudes cruising around looking way out of place, so I knew they were bodyguards. I spoke to the house lady and she pointed out a bodyguard, who looked totally out of place. As though he had never been in a social situation before. He could easily have been mistaken for a wrongfully invited guest.

Then, to make matters worse, the one guy who I was sure was a bodyguard(Side note: Due to the immense size of my chest, I was mistaken for a bodyguard once or twice in the evening) kept on asking for more food. I was like “Listen fucker, you not allowed to eat, just stand there and do your job, fool!” Then some dude who looked rather stupid, takes this food that I was serving. It was like salmon and cream cheese in half a baby potatoe. Now a potato is hard to mistake for anything really. It does not look like anything, but a fucking potatoe. So he says “Is this potatoe?” Jesus H Christ, no, it's a watermelon. What do you think it is? DONT BE STUPID YOUR WHOLE LIFE! I was so dumbfounded by this, that I said nothing. How do you reply to this? A good reply would have been to kick him in the chops and tell him to get a high school education before he starts to mingle in these Embassy circles.

Another fine specimen was this Chinese dude who, for the first 10 minutes or so, stood by himself, declining food and just chilling by himself, probably kicking some pick up lines around in his head. What a homeboy. Then later on I nearly coughed up the sushi that I was stealing when I saw him chatting to an A-class lady. She was amazing. Granted, the other guests were lank old, and this may have put her in a good light. Imagine how hot she must have looked in a badly lit situation, ha ha ha! Maybe a bag of Simba chips over her head! Ok...that was a weird moment right there. Sorry. Apologies all around. But this girl was there with what seemed like her sister, and funny enough the last time I worked at an Embassy, I somehow recall seeing these two. I need to start mixing in embassy circles more often. If it were not for the fact that they were so fucking boring, I'm sure we would have all given them a run for their money.

If they had the slightest bit of personality, I have no doubt they would have spent the better part of the night in the bathroom, sandwiched between the Chinese guy and...well, quite possibly me. Alrighty then. Odd behaviour from me.

No but seriously, I immediately knew they were embassy types because not even my dashing good looks, and my easy swagger, could impress them. I was definitely putting the right vibe out, because I just felt it. No, I'm going to go so far as to say that I looked fucking hot. And not even a glimpse from them. Mind you, many a lady has looked me in the eyes and fallen completely in love, only for me to dust them off. Maybe these ladies wanted to avoid disappointment. Sorry ladies, so many of you, only one of me(I would have said little...but we don't want any ambiguity entering in on this topic)

Then there are the usual pompous pricks who attend these things. They sit there, not smiling, generally looking like the back end of fucking Horse Chestnut, and making complete tools of themselves just by being there. Fuck, unborn children have more personality. They don't eat, don't drink, don't talk. What in Chucks name are you doing, wasting the precious oxygen on this planet. Piss off already.

Everyone was wearing a suit as well, what tools. If it were me, I'd like to kick it back to the old school with my Diesel Jeans, Nike Dunk Low shoes and maybe my Woolworths W Collection cotton striped shirt. Throw in my Diesel watch and we are good to go to a party to pick up ho's. These people looked like they were ready for a funeral. Fascinating. Intriguing. Marvellous

I have just taken a look over this article and the swearing is fucking excessive. Sorry but it's 11:09pm and I only got back a little while ago, so emotions are high, I'm looking dead sexy and I will write the rest of this tomorrow. I'm going to kick back for an hour and then watch Conan 'O Brien, my inspiration, my hero, my father. Yes, my father. I never believed the whole postman story anyway.

Ok, I'm back. It's Wednesday evening, 20:19, and I'm ready to finish this article. Not much to say really, because it was stellar.

Oh forgot to mention the napkins I got. They look beautiful. They have the whole emblem on them and shit. Currently I am using them to wipe my snotty nose with. They have a multitude of uses. I could use them to wipe excess oil from my bike chain, use them as a bib when eating, pick up the dead bits of hookers that litter my house. Shit, these things are handy.

Righty-oh-then. That's all my stupendous ones, go back to your work, piss the boss off, spread the word about SLXS, nominate me in the blog awards and together, I have no doubt, we will take over the world. Today Cape Town, tomorrow...Helsinki! Or Yemen!

And remember, a quote from my mate Jerry D “Take it easy. And if it's easy take it home”

Now go rest.

You need it.

One more thing. I was watching a rally on TV today, and thought about a fun rumour to spread. Because these guys are the toughest guys on the planet, I thought we should start a rumour about them. Let's start a rumour about Petter Solberg. I say me tell everyone that he is so tough, he eats his gearbox after every race, genius! Hurry up, spread the word!

Currently we are listening to Lenny Kravits “Fly Away” And I have no doubt that if you are in an office right now, that's exactly what you will want to do on such a fine summers day. The pool awaits me. Mmmm... now where is that white Speedo?

The remnants of Valentines

A marvellous day indeed, Jones.

I have never really been sold on the idea of having "Day's" for various things. Fathers day, Mothers Day, Valentines Day, Birthdays. I just kind of think we should be living excessively all year. Now people will say "You are no fun" But why not do something with your girlfriend or parents or whatever every day? Why dedicate one day in the year to these people? Invariably, when these "days" do come along they turn into fuck shows. All the restaurants are packed, people are losing their tits completely, and it just kind of goes haywire. It is so commercial it kind of makes me want to stay in the whole day.

Not to mention the fact that a friend sms'd at about 9am this morning saying the day had already cost him R600. By the end of the day we can call it an even R1000. If I'm going to be dropping a grand on something, or putting it towards something, it better have the words "Apple i..." in it. Or someone like this A-class belter that I have seen around lately should be lying in a Waterfront apartment, with a bucketful of coke, waiting for me(That was technically a joke) This girl I have seen lately looks like a young Kate Moss, prior to getting involved with fuckshow himself, Pete Doherty. And prior to her powdering her nose with that fairy dust she uses, which at times resembles cocaine. Hang on a second...maybe it is cocaine.

God! All this time I thought it was from candy floss or something. Gosh I'm an idiot!

So yeah, Valentines "Day", is a bit commercial for myself. Not to mention that the Valentines are not exactly bashing down my hand carved front door. Anyway, I thought I would go visit the Woolworths down the road from me. The Rondebosch one, Klipfontein Road. So I did my rounds and when it came time to leave it was a complete mess. Cars could not get in and cars could not get out. The whole parking lot had come to a standstill. Then the car in front of me took off to turn right across the road. First she had to dodge the cars speeding at her from the right, then the ones in the other lane coming from the left. Well her senses failed her, and she pulled out in front of a bakkie.

Our boy in the bakkie slammed on brakes, swerved to his right, hit the centre island and ramped his car up, fucking a pole out the ground mid air, then dropped into the oncoming traffic and hit another womans car. You probably think I am making this story up to add further fuel to my "Valentines day is bullshit" fire. But go look at Woolworths, see the pole knocked out the ground. Now back to where I was.

All the while people were panicking, but me being me, ice cool maverick, well, I maintained complete composure. I actually acted with an air of grace and sophistication, taking this mass hysteria in my icy cool stride. I waited a while but the cars did not stop coming. Then an enterprising young man from Woolworths managed to stop some cars, so the people in the Woolworths parking lot could get out. I pulled out slowly in the VR3, not wanting to strain the engine on such a panicky day. Then I put my foot down, leaving the accident scene in my wake, and escaping unscathed. Another successful day, well navigated by me.

I just looked over the day, all the traffic, the accident, the money being thrown around and I thought "Fuck it, what a dogshow" I came home, watched our boys cleaning up in the cricket and quietly whispered in my ear "I am living the dream"

Then I fell asleep in my arms, woke up, and realised I had won the lottery( I write this pre-the lottery. This could happen. Will keep you informed)

Oh, by the way, hope you had a good Valentines day all the same.

Respect

That's ugly

I just woke up(Actually got up at 6. Fucking neighbours dog. Again. Buying a hand grenade today. Shut up, I know it's illegal) and looked at my post on Barron Trump. What I failed to neglect, wait, that makes no sense.

What I failed to report on, was the hideousness of The Donald. My fuck, is he not one of the ugliest people you have ever seen. But there are ugly people(Rosie O' Donnell) and then there is the Don. He is is a league of his own. I have been scouting the streets for ages now looking for someone with a combover like his and I just can't seem to find one.

He is actually fucking disgusting.

Then I look at his tight wife and I think (Yes, it hurts) "Yeah, I'm sure you are with him for his looks and personality"

Melania is possibly the worlds biggest gold digger. Jesus, if you are a woman can you imagine sleeping with The Don. I feel dirty even talking about it. I mean, Ron Jeremy, the world biggest porn star, is nasty, but at least he has a piece the size of a yellow wood tree to offer you.

This post has turned filthy and I am a bad person.

Yeah yeah yeah.

Barron Trump

I love it when my sister visits, she is actually quite sweet really. She always likes to surprise The Honourable Sean with a YOU magazine or two. The latest one was placed ever so gently in my cycling helmet(Bell Sweep Road, 2006 model, just to name drop) It was like a gift from the God's. The gossip God's.

In the back pages, which are the only ones worth reading, was a picture of Donald Trump, who we shall call Big DT, and his son Barron.

No I am not fucking with your head, his name is Barron. Seriously, no fucky fuckying around this time.

Barron Trump.

That is amazing. That's like naming my sweet child, Honourable(In reference to Scary Movie, with the guy with the gimp hand going "Sweet child!" Or in reference to Axl "Fuckin'" Rose's song "Sweet child o' mine") It's totally off the hook. Totally.

But the photo of him is amazing, he is getting a combover just like his pops, Big DT. Craziness.

Then even more worrying is the quote by The Don(I will call him a different name at will and no one can stop me) saying "Barron is strong and smart" Jesus! He's like, not even two years old!

No pressure on him then to become a tycoon. Can you imagine how the Donster (You can't do anything about this) would flip his lid if Barron turned into the next K-Fed(Who, by the way, you can now call "Daddy" instead)

The opportunities at turning this story into a book are endless so I shall just stop now. Back the fuck up, Sean. Go sit down.

That's better.

In a side note: I'm quite enjoying this site www.tmz.com where you can find as many celebrity photos as you will. I'm currently on Orlando Bloom and Jake Gyllenhaal...Okay that was a weird moment there.

Seriously though if you search for me on that site you will probably find a couple of photos.

Type in "Sean Lloyd White Speedo"

Absolutely thrilling

It's the blog awards

I just realised that it is the SA blog awards, and although I highly doubt an award is coming our way, I thought I would let you in on it anyway. Because I'm a caring, generous person. Shit, I hear echoes of people shouting "Bullshit" right as I type.

There are various categories, but not all of them apply to us. Obviously.

So go ahead, my children, and nominate away for me. Categories which I fit into would be:

Most humorous South African Blog (No seriously, this blog is supposed to be funny. Okey dokey, don't all burst into laughter at once)

Best post on a South African blog (Right now, "Cocaine train" is doing it for me)

Best new blog

Now go forth and vote. I don't really know all the rules and shit, because I'm too lazy to read the entire thing. But you can do it for me at: http://2007.sablogawards.com/

Okay, shit, don't all rush and click the link at once, we don't want their site crashing now, do we?

The cocaine train

I was kicking it back with some home boys today and we were talking about parties, ho's and drugs(In that order) Anyway we kind of rolled onto the topic of boring parties, and how to spice them up. We all agreed that taking your kit off is a definite party starter. If you have tits at least. Generally guys doing this kind of thing empty out the party at a rapid rate. Depending on the type of party, if you get where I am going.

Then, in a moment of boldness, and a moment that only can happen to me, I saw a fire extinguisher. Now to a normal person, seeing a fire extinguisher would not ignite a spark inside their heads linking this to a party. I bet some of you are thinking "Oh, what a tool, he thinks setting off a fire extinguisher at a party is funny" No, little ones. I am more profound than that.

I realised it was a powder fire extinguisher that held about 4.5kg of powder. Now can you imagine rocking up at a party that is so fuck boring that you would rather pull round to your gran's house and knit with her. Don't be fooled, these parties exist. The Mathletes from school get together every Friday to wank about maths, and they call this a "party" A pants party of sorts. Now generally these parties have no hope of ever getting a cool vibe going.

But with Sean, the intrepid, you don't have to fear. You fill this extinguisher with the finest Columbian blow you can find. You walk into any old fucked out party shouting your surname. Example: In this example, replace my surname, Lloyd, with yours: Lloyd's number one! Lloyd's number fucking one! Fuck yeah!" At this moment you pull the pin out the extinguisher, press down the handle and shout, as the cocaine pummels it's way through the air "(Make a hooting sound, like a train) HOOT HOOT! THE COCAINE TRAIN IS COMING TO STEAM ROLL YOU, BITCHES!"

Watch in sheer amazement, as Zion, the top Mathlete in high school, gets his hand off Ron's cock and starts doing the fucking funky chicken, then breaks into a full out "Zoolander" walkoff scene. He then walks up to Stacy, the Mathlete whore slut bitch slag bag, and pulls her. He then pulls out a strip of 500 condoms, he holds them up, points to her and says "Stacy, you are in BIG trouble young lady"

Ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Can you imagine how crazy that would be?! I'm am at a loss for words!

4.5 kg's of cocaine, absolutely annihilating anyone in site! I can't even begin to imagine how numb their gums would go after only a couple of moments. Fuck they would actually have numbs gum they would be so fucked up.

Now that my friends, is the situation at a boring party. Imagine going into one of the sickest parties ever, like in Ibiza, and doing the exact same thing. The opportunities for crazy stories after this would be endless. It would be a complete dogshow, complete with people acting like dog's and whoring themselves to anyone in sight.

Now to the sophisticated, cultured, intelligent(Everything I am not) people reading this, they will argue that the cocaine would not shoot out as it needs propellant to propel it out the extinguisher. Fuck off. This is not fucking Mythbusters, so stop trying to ruin the best story ever written. EVER! Seriously, go back to the lab and never come out again.

I won't lie, this took up so much brainpower to write, I think it may be my last post ever. Seriously.

Cheers

The Honourable Sean Lloyd

That's fucked up!

I can't say I'm too intrigued by this whole Anna Nicole Smith thing. Yeah it's sad she died, but come on, did no one see it coming with all the drugs she was clearly taking?

Anyway, one of the more fucked up stories that has been circulating the internet, is the one of her and her son. Now it's so fucked up I don't even know if I should mention it. So I will.

What our conspiracy theorists brothers are telling us is that Anna actually slept with her son, who died a while back. So her baby, whatever it's name is, is the product of Anna and her son. So Anna's son is actually the father of her new baby! So this daughters brother is actually her dad! Are you getting my point?

Now obviously this is not true, but they say Anna was freaked out about this which led to her death.

I just can't help but thinking that there are people out there with too much time on their hands. I have plenty of time on my hands, but that is just excessive.

That's all(I learnt this line in The Devil Wears Prada. You can't use it. Only I can)

What happened to the house?

I woke up this morning confused, stunned, stoned some might say. But I was not. I was just a bit lost, like something in life was missing. Some things in life should just work like clockwork. Like a clock for example. When my watch(Wrist-clock if you will) stops working, I lose my direction for a while. Well until I look at my phone anyway. But you get the point. Or you don't. Whatever.

I must be honest, getting off the topic, some things don't bother me when they don't work like clockwork. For instance, elevators. I am constantly amused(I would use "bemused" but I don't know what it means) when I see people get to an elevator and it is not working. Especially those rich Constantia moms("MILFS" if you will) They will stand there, looking it up and down, seething with botox, Prada bag in one hand, Louis Vuitton dog bag in the other, and there is where they stand. They get this confused look on their face, almost as if Tom Cruise and the apocalypse are looming down on them. Then their botox wears off, their lips go lopsided, their chin falls off and they take their first tentative step onto the elevator. Never ceases to amaze me. Way off the topic though and not relevant to anything.

So last night I was sitting in front of my TV, waiting for The House Of Carters to start. But it never did. They were showing some red carpet awards bullshit, with Ruby Wax(Who is fucking funny) They also interviewed Emily Blunt, thank God.

But yeah, the House Of Carters never started. They just missed it entirely. So 19:35 came, it went, and I was shocked. Where was Angel? Nick? Aaron? BJ?(HA HA HA!) And their other sister? It was all too strange.

So I did not see it. Here I sit, on a Monday, not knowing what the Mickey Rourke is happening. Could this mean Tom Cruise is my father? Is Oprah really the illegitimate black granddaughter of David Hasselhoff? Are those not cigarettes my friends smoke? Is it, God forbid, weed? These questions are piling up in my head, causing a large headache, all because E! did not play my show.

LOOK WHAT YOU GUYS HAVE DONE!

MY LIFE IS WORTHLESS!

WORTHLESS I TELL YOU!

Okey dokey. Where was I?

What a gay weekend!

I write this on Sunday, but shall set the day for the post to Monday because I can. The photo above is one similiar to the rainstorm described in this post. I may be exaggerating with this photo, but bear in mind that I was in a very gay state of mind this whole weekend.

I was looking over what I achieved this weekend and I realised I had achieved sweet fuck all! Saturday was spent listening to VH1's top 50 love songs. Shit, I was emotional. So emotional and touched by all these songs that for a moment I considered actually cleaning up my act and getting a girlfriend. I quickly snapped back to reality realising that a girlfriend leads to those "talks", which leads to things getting serious, which leads to marriage, which leads to kids, which leads to my once tight assed wife refusing to lose the baby weight, which leads to me being depressed, and all of this leads to FUCK ALL MONEY IN THE BANK!

And as we know, money can in fact buy happiness. Someone told me this the other day "People who say money can't buy happiness obviously don't have enough money" I nodded, because this is so true.

Then I realised that my Sunday was gay. Not gay as in happy, but gay as in George Michael.

I met BMP just past Camps Bay for an early morning cycle in an effort to win the Argus. However, after only getting to bed at 2am and having to wake up at 4:30am, cycling was not feeling good in my mind. I only got to bed at 2am after my neighbours fucking dog kept barking, which ended in us ringing their door bell at 1:30am telling them to shut the fucking dog up before I come in there and personally see to everyones death. I swear to God, alsatians are gay. This dog has the gayest bark in the world and just barks at nothing. I bet you that that dog smokes pole. I can actually guarantee it. So that's where the days gayness started, with a gay dog at 1:30am.

So onto the cycle. We arrived, both tired, and saw a rainstorm the size of Mars approaching us. Sitting there in cycling shorts and tight shirts my immediate thought was "Fuck, I'm actually going to die today next to a friend of mine. We are both wearing spandex and when the authorities find us dead, they are going to think these early morning rides were an excuse for us to get together without anyone around because we were actually gay lovers" This thought shocked my brain. Luckily BMP was just worried about the cold, and we decided that a ride was not in order. While we packed away our stuff, after only just unpacking it, we saw loads of cyclists riding past, going towards the rain, like a bunch of fools. We also then set off into the rain, in our cars of course. So that was the ride. A very gay one.

Then I got home and thought I would watch the DVD that I had hired the previous day. It was about 7:30 am now and I had not finished watching the movie because I had fallen asleep watching it on the couch(I have to write this. As I type, Robbie Williams "Angels" is playing on MTV. And I'm listening to it, word for word. Very gay) I had fallen asleep on the couch at about 9:30pm. On a Saturday night. Very gay.

The movie I had hired was an animation, Ant Bully. It's a kids film. A 21 year old man watching an animation on a Saturday night. Very gay.

Ant Bully, a kids film. Very very gay.

Then I fell asleep watching the cricket yesterday, in which we fucked Pakistan up, with Smith hitting a six off the last ball he faces. Classy. But seriously, I fell asleep watching the cricket at about, shit knows when but it was in the afternoon. Gay.

Then I caught myself, not even thinking, watching MTV's love songs weekend on Sunday(I mentioned this earlier didn't I?). By myself. Gay. I was eating marshmallows(No seriously, none of this is bullshit, contrary to what I suspect will be popular belief) Gay

Even worse was watching VH1's top 50 love songs on Saturday afternoon. I lost control of my emotions with songs such as Enrique Iglesias "Hero", Sade, Aerosmith's "I don't want to miss a thing", Joe Cocker(Gay name) and Van Morrison's "Have I told you lately" Gay. What an awesome day.

In Enriques "Hero" he gets the fuck kicked out of him by Mickey Rourke, but then still survives to see Jennifer Love Hewitt later in the video. Can you imagine giving a chick a bracelet that you saved for her after Mickey "Fucking" Rourke kicked your ass to the ground? That guarantees you action from her for life even if you end up selling bracelets on the side of the road after gaining an horrendous tik addiction that leaves you with a lazy eye and a gimp leg.

Then when people drive past and laugh saying "Look there is that has been drug addict loser" ,you can then just shout back, at the top of your Tik toasted lungs "Fuck you mother fuckers! I'm still fucking Jennifer Love Hewitt!"

God, I have totally lost my composure on this post, I don't even know where it is going anymore. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I remember writing it. Whatever that last sentence meant.

Little goddess I found

I often find myself in a situation like this on a Sunday. Weekends are crazy with everyone wanting to spend time with me, fans bashing down my door like they are trying to bash out of the gates of hell and general mayhem caused in my wake. Then it all dies down and I get depressed. I'm kind of a pseudo celebrity. When there are people around me, I want to wave my Harry Pothead wand and make them go away. But then when I am without company, I crave it. And so now I crave it. Actually I don't know if "it" is what I crave. But I want something. So here I sit trawling the depths of the internet like a Japanese trawler trawls the depth of the oceans for turtles and sharks.

With E! Entertainment playing in the background, I saw that chick from The Devil Wears Prada and had to find out more about this devil. Gosh she is hot. I found out her name is Emily Blunt, she was born on February 23, 1983(Only two years older than me!YES!) Remind me to send her a birthday wish in about 12 days. To be honest, I don't buy the thing about her being 23(Please tell me if I'm wrong, I am horrendous with working out how old people are if they give me their birth date. Yes, I am that fucking stupid) Look at her, the maturity in her eyes, the sexiness, the dirtiness...It bends my mind to think that age wise, she is in my reach.

Apparently she is seeing Michael Buble, which completely stuns me. Somewhere out there in the universe, the stars are turning, twisting, morphing, and the star sign chick from YOU magazine is going to blind me next week with my Horoscope saying I was meant for Emily Blunt. YOU magazine comes out on a Friday(Well, so people say) The lottery is on Wednesday.

It is going to be one hell of a week. On Wednesday, I shall be a millionaire.

On Friday, my stars shall align and I shall hook up with Emily Blunt.

I'm staying in bed until then, this is going to be one crazy week!

Right now I have to go and watch the House of Carters. Awesome.