Its seems as if the braai fires have been lit for summer. Barely a day will pass without an invite to one of our countries finest traditions, but with anything that we hold dear, there are rules, largely unwritten ones, until now....
1. If it does not involve glowing embers, its not a braai, its a BBQ, take your poncy, twist of a lever controlled flame and fuck off. We live in a country where you are allowed to make fires, take advantage, its what makes the food taste different to the aussies and the yanks anyway. (ever tried cleaning a gas BBQ? holy crap!)
2. To satisfy mens food requirements, we require equal carbohydrates (beer) and protein (meat) anything else is purely for decoration. Ladies, please beer (whoops, bare) this in mind when sending us off to the shops to get supplies for a braai. Expect a look of confusion when on our return, you ask us where the salad, veggies are, on second thought, what are you doing sending us to the shops anyway? If we are snackish before the first piece of lava temperature sausage is being eaten, we will entertain chips (carbohydrates) and biltong (protein).
3. Braais that 'start' at 8 mean eating at 10. This rule can be applied to any start time, this allows a solid 2 hours of beer drinking-bonding time that is vital to the success of the event.
4. The BRAAI-MASTER. Ok, tricky one this, the host of the braai is ALWAYS the braai master, however there are only a few exceptions:
a) If amongst the guests there is one of those rare individuals whose meat tanning skills have become that of legend, he will be shown the due respect and allowed to wield the tongs. (these talented individuals are easily recognizable by there back seat braai remarks and their speed at picking up the tongs when the host has put them down for a millisecond to go to the toilet. They will have the entire meat layout rearranged by using geometry theorems, have calculated exact cooking times of boerewors, chicken, chops and steak so that all meat will be ready at exactly the same time)
b) If the number of guests require more than one braai to be active at once, an additional braai-master can be appointed by the host, but beware, it will be remembered as the hosts braai and rumours of rubbery steak and raw chicken will haunt you forever so choose wisely. (your best friend who has been known to burn coffee is not ideal)
5. One is never allowed to arrive at a braai with whole chicken pieces (skin on, boned) they will upset the braai master considerably. Chops, boerewors, pre marinated chicken kebabs or chicken fillets, steak, ribs are all all fool proof options. I believe there is a law against whole chicken pieces that are bought to a braai in a frozen state, punishable by a double shot of warm black sambucca.
6. Vegetarians. You arrive at a braai with your tie-dyed tshirt and toe rings, proudly whip out your veggie burgers or sausage or whatnot. Shamelessly approach the braai-master and ask him if its not too much trouble to cook these before the meat. ARE YOU FOR REAL??!! Yes its too much trouble to cook your msg flavoured cardboard before actual food, does the fact that I've braaied more cows than Shaka, king of the zulus owned,on that braai already not seem a bit contradictory to you? Why don't you just snack on the cardboard box that grey, tofu piece of shit came in, it'll probably taste better.
7.In my wife's perfect but totally unrealistic world, everyone eats together, at a big table, with cutlery. In reality, I've just finished braaiing every animal in 'Old McDonald' and drunk 7 beers, taste tested everything, fed all my friends the 15 varieties of boerewors I've discovered. If we didn't have guests (or my mom in law) over, id probably have killed that T-bone straight of the grill with my fingers and teeth. No I don't want any fucking cous-cous.
8. Braaiing is the ultimate in male decadence, it involves large amounts of eating, drinking, talking complete crap with your mates, it also is a totally legitimate excuse for neglecting every other duty imaginable. "Sorry baby, cant watch the kids, I'm braaiing" (present) "Clean up? but i braaiied. (past tense) "I'm just chilling out sweetheart, got to braai later. (future)
So crack a cold one, light the blitz and get braaiing.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Having kids. Part 1, falling pregnant
So you've been married or living together for a couple of years (watch it guys, that means she's your common law wife and that bitch can take you for everything!) You're at that point in your relationship where you're probably ok taking a shit with the bathroom door open, no attempt is made to hide the tampon box (it just kind of hangs around like your mother-in-law, and the sex, well, its ALMOST routine.
One day your usually cool, chilled chick comes home with that look. What look? That look that a Jack Russell gets when you are holding a tennis ball. "Babe, you wont believe it, (best friend/ sister/ cousin/ teller at woolworths) is pregnant, she looks amazing, so glowy, with the cutest little bump, i actually knew something was up, women's intuition and all that, I really think its time we start trying.....blah, blah, blah. Now truth be told, men are incredibly simple creatures, so all we really heard were the last three words: blah, blah, blah, however.....what will get our attention.....is the trying part. "
You see guys, a women wants a baby and unfortunately for her (and therefore, fortunately for us) it means actually having to have sex, lots of it. So when we tell our friends that we are trying for a baby, it means we're shagging, loads, and us guys like to boast about that kind of crap.
She's out there telling all her friends that you guys have agreed its baby time. No, we have agreed to multiple sessions of sex, often coinciding with a phase of the moon, low pressure system over the arctic (all the books she's secretly reading and all the info her friends are giving her means you and your penis are on call 24-7). There is one very important issue which you poor bastards will be totally oblivious to while performing the Scandinavian helicopter for the second time on single day (yes guys, sex twice a day is very possible) and that she is using you, its those millions of little swimmers she's after, I know its impossible to fathom at this point, that's why I'm here to warn you.
So everything seems quite brilliant, wife's off the pill, sex in the shower, in the cupboard, on the kitchen table, you're feeling like you have more purpose than just for your credit card.....then, one day....."HONEY! guess what?!" Well, no prizes for guessing what as you walk through the front door after work and trip over the scattering of empty home pregnancy test kit boxes. "We're having a baby!" "Sweetheart, that's awesome!" as you kiss her and begin to unbutton her blouse..."Um, what are you doing ?"she asks puzzled.......uh oh.......
To be continued......
One day your usually cool, chilled chick comes home with that look. What look? That look that a Jack Russell gets when you are holding a tennis ball. "Babe, you wont believe it, (best friend/ sister/ cousin/ teller at woolworths) is pregnant, she looks amazing, so glowy, with the cutest little bump, i actually knew something was up, women's intuition and all that, I really think its time we start trying.....blah, blah, blah. Now truth be told, men are incredibly simple creatures, so all we really heard were the last three words: blah, blah, blah, however.....what will get our attention.....is the trying part. "
You see guys, a women wants a baby and unfortunately for her (and therefore, fortunately for us) it means actually having to have sex, lots of it. So when we tell our friends that we are trying for a baby, it means we're shagging, loads, and us guys like to boast about that kind of crap.
She's out there telling all her friends that you guys have agreed its baby time. No, we have agreed to multiple sessions of sex, often coinciding with a phase of the moon, low pressure system over the arctic (all the books she's secretly reading and all the info her friends are giving her means you and your penis are on call 24-7). There is one very important issue which you poor bastards will be totally oblivious to while performing the Scandinavian helicopter for the second time on single day (yes guys, sex twice a day is very possible) and that she is using you, its those millions of little swimmers she's after, I know its impossible to fathom at this point, that's why I'm here to warn you.
So everything seems quite brilliant, wife's off the pill, sex in the shower, in the cupboard, on the kitchen table, you're feeling like you have more purpose than just for your credit card.....then, one day....."HONEY! guess what?!" Well, no prizes for guessing what as you walk through the front door after work and trip over the scattering of empty home pregnancy test kit boxes. "We're having a baby!" "Sweetheart, that's awesome!" as you kiss her and begin to unbutton her blouse..."Um, what are you doing ?"she asks puzzled.......uh oh.......
To be continued......
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Real estate agents
Most people will face the daunting prospect of their largest investment, buying a house or apartment, only a few times in their lives. This will almost always involve the services of a real estate agent. If the prospect of committing yourself to a 20 year financial burden is not scary enough, enter the bottom-feeding, manipulating, double-crossing, swindling but still ever-so-cheery realtor.
Known to travel(hunt) in pairs, this particular breed of scavenger is usually identifiable by blue-rinse or shock blonde peroxided hair, excessive gold jewellery and the kind of nauseating perfume your grandmother wouldn't even wear.
Whilst house-hunting for their dream (read:budget allowed) starter home, expect mentioned piranha to crush all your dreams and aspirations by using the following tried and tested "tools" of the trade:
1. Showing you property way beyond your original pre-approved and discussed price. "I love it darling" your wife will say as you stand there wondering how this silly cow in her shapeless dress confused your R2 million budget with the rolling lawn, panoramic viewed palace you are standing in. "You'll just have to bite off more than you can chew and chew faster!" or some other scripted piece of wisdom the wicked witch of the west will drop on your already strained shoulders. Grabbing your wife's hand and dashing off to the east wing, bedroom 14, "This can be juniors room" she-devil chuckles, parting her shock red lipsticked lips to reveal the finest crowns money can buy, patting your pregnant wife's belly for full effect.
2. Failure to reveal the actual costs. "Huh? But i thought you said it was R2.5 million?" Cue pity laughter...."Yes deary, but we have to add commission, lawyers fees, transfer costs, beetle certificate, electrical certificate, a special levy due because its Thursday, a donation to the area's girl guides and transfer costs." "Two transfer costs?!" you exclaim as you grab onto the table where half the amazon rain forest was cut down to provide the sea of paperwork which lies in front of you. "Tut, tut, silly me, only one transfer cost, you see, its not so bad...." more grinning.
3. Telling you what you want to hear, never what you don't. "If you need more space, just go up a level." "Need more garaging, just knock down that wall over there" with a dismissive wave of her sparkly hand like she is Harry fucking Potter with a wand, "Need a pool? Just dig a hole over there, look, there's even a spade" cackle, cackle... "What about that sign over there with that computer generated picture of the 15 storey apartment block, when is that happening?" you naively ask. "I know the developer" she says "He'll never get the plans approved"
4. Subject to sales. Want to sell your house and buy another? Double the fun! The less that you agree on, for your house, equates directly to how much higher the agent will push for on the new house you want to buy. An easy sale of your existing house and more commission for the agent on the new purchase. Cool hey? Double the fun? Doubly fucked is more like it.
So off you go, have fun on a Sunday afternoon, enjoy the experience and don't forget to initial every page.
Known to travel(hunt) in pairs, this particular breed of scavenger is usually identifiable by blue-rinse or shock blonde peroxided hair, excessive gold jewellery and the kind of nauseating perfume your grandmother wouldn't even wear.
Whilst house-hunting for their dream (read:budget allowed) starter home, expect mentioned piranha to crush all your dreams and aspirations by using the following tried and tested "tools" of the trade:
1. Showing you property way beyond your original pre-approved and discussed price. "I love it darling" your wife will say as you stand there wondering how this silly cow in her shapeless dress confused your R2 million budget with the rolling lawn, panoramic viewed palace you are standing in. "You'll just have to bite off more than you can chew and chew faster!" or some other scripted piece of wisdom the wicked witch of the west will drop on your already strained shoulders. Grabbing your wife's hand and dashing off to the east wing, bedroom 14, "This can be juniors room" she-devil chuckles, parting her shock red lipsticked lips to reveal the finest crowns money can buy, patting your pregnant wife's belly for full effect.
2. Failure to reveal the actual costs. "Huh? But i thought you said it was R2.5 million?" Cue pity laughter...."Yes deary, but we have to add commission, lawyers fees, transfer costs, beetle certificate, electrical certificate, a special levy due because its Thursday, a donation to the area's girl guides and transfer costs." "Two transfer costs?!" you exclaim as you grab onto the table where half the amazon rain forest was cut down to provide the sea of paperwork which lies in front of you. "Tut, tut, silly me, only one transfer cost, you see, its not so bad...." more grinning.
3. Telling you what you want to hear, never what you don't. "If you need more space, just go up a level." "Need more garaging, just knock down that wall over there" with a dismissive wave of her sparkly hand like she is Harry fucking Potter with a wand, "Need a pool? Just dig a hole over there, look, there's even a spade" cackle, cackle... "What about that sign over there with that computer generated picture of the 15 storey apartment block, when is that happening?" you naively ask. "I know the developer" she says "He'll never get the plans approved"
4. Subject to sales. Want to sell your house and buy another? Double the fun! The less that you agree on, for your house, equates directly to how much higher the agent will push for on the new house you want to buy. An easy sale of your existing house and more commission for the agent on the new purchase. Cool hey? Double the fun? Doubly fucked is more like it.
So off you go, have fun on a Sunday afternoon, enjoy the experience and don't forget to initial every page.
Monday, December 13, 2010
new years parties
Aaaaah, the end of another year. 2010 has been particularly crap for almost everyone. With the worldwide recession turning even the simplest business transaction into an attempt to extract blood from a stone, everyone is now eagerly anticipating some much needed R & R and the prospect of the end of year bonus.
Social events abound, Christmas lunches, braais etc, and the topic of conversation usually turns to the inevitable: "What are you doing for new years?"
New years eve, champagne, fireworks, dancing into the night, and sharing a kiss with a significant other (or stranger) as we count down to midnight and forget the old and embrace the new.
No, no, no, no, absolutely not.
I'm always up for a party, but you can take your pre-arranged, pre-booked, over-priced, over-hyped, forced and fake affair and stick it in a pair of concrete shoes and send it to Davey Jones' locker. Good parties are almost always spur of the moment affairs, when you find yourself dressed in the clothes you went to the beach in, at 3am, in a house you may or may not know the owner of, surrounded by some good friends and some random (read: normally hot, scantily clad) guys and girls, there should be some kind of mind altering substance involved, normally coinciding with the vowels of the alphabet.
What kind of person books those new years specials at restaurants? You know the ones, we'll serve you exactly the same food we normally do, but we'll add a bottle of 5th avenue cold duck sparkling wine, lock you in our establishment with a bunch of strangers, play some shit music, tell you after dinner that its a cash bar and make you contend with our staff who are so incredibly resentful they're working on new years, they have probably pissed in the sangria.....all this for only R1000, tickets limited!
The "Party". Hey are you going to ...........for new years? Its gonna be the best new years party ever, I heard that ........ and ........are gonna be there and that ........are gonna be performing and that (house owner/party thrower) sold 1 of his 38 listed companies this year and the pool is gonna be filled with Dom perignon and they gonna have a ski slope, only not with snow....pffffft. Plastic, superficial assholes that make barbie and ken seem genuine, the highlight of this party is when I get removed by some pricks bodyguard for asking the jimmy choo wearing, fake-tit sporting chick if her dad minds if we dance. My DAD?!!! followed by a well manicured hand slap, I'm his third wife, you wanker!
A sure fire way to NOT stick to your new years resolutions (quite possibly the dumbest concept anyway) is to approach your give up smoking, lose weight, get in shape, drink less promise by waking up with a splitting hangover, reaching for your smokes whilst ordering take out pizza and settling into a hair of the dog beer, watching DVDs.
So if you're wondering who that asshole is putting on his wetsuit at 6am on January 1st, as you hide in your overpriced cab ride home, hating yourself and life, that's me, happy new year.....
Social events abound, Christmas lunches, braais etc, and the topic of conversation usually turns to the inevitable: "What are you doing for new years?"
New years eve, champagne, fireworks, dancing into the night, and sharing a kiss with a significant other (or stranger) as we count down to midnight and forget the old and embrace the new.
No, no, no, no, absolutely not.
I'm always up for a party, but you can take your pre-arranged, pre-booked, over-priced, over-hyped, forced and fake affair and stick it in a pair of concrete shoes and send it to Davey Jones' locker. Good parties are almost always spur of the moment affairs, when you find yourself dressed in the clothes you went to the beach in, at 3am, in a house you may or may not know the owner of, surrounded by some good friends and some random (read: normally hot, scantily clad) guys and girls, there should be some kind of mind altering substance involved, normally coinciding with the vowels of the alphabet.
What kind of person books those new years specials at restaurants? You know the ones, we'll serve you exactly the same food we normally do, but we'll add a bottle of 5th avenue cold duck sparkling wine, lock you in our establishment with a bunch of strangers, play some shit music, tell you after dinner that its a cash bar and make you contend with our staff who are so incredibly resentful they're working on new years, they have probably pissed in the sangria.....all this for only R1000, tickets limited!
The "Party". Hey are you going to ...........for new years? Its gonna be the best new years party ever, I heard that ........ and ........are gonna be there and that ........are gonna be performing and that (house owner/party thrower) sold 1 of his 38 listed companies this year and the pool is gonna be filled with Dom perignon and they gonna have a ski slope, only not with snow....pffffft. Plastic, superficial assholes that make barbie and ken seem genuine, the highlight of this party is when I get removed by some pricks bodyguard for asking the jimmy choo wearing, fake-tit sporting chick if her dad minds if we dance. My DAD?!!! followed by a well manicured hand slap, I'm his third wife, you wanker!
A sure fire way to NOT stick to your new years resolutions (quite possibly the dumbest concept anyway) is to approach your give up smoking, lose weight, get in shape, drink less promise by waking up with a splitting hangover, reaching for your smokes whilst ordering take out pizza and settling into a hair of the dog beer, watching DVDs.
So if you're wondering who that asshole is putting on his wetsuit at 6am on January 1st, as you hide in your overpriced cab ride home, hating yourself and life, that's me, happy new year.....
Friday, December 10, 2010
Road cyclists
Please note: This refers to road cycling only. Mountain biking, BMXing (hell, even unicycling) is completely acceptable.
I am overcome daily with the desire to apply the laws of physics (speed, mass, velocity) whilst driving. If you are going to dress up in MATCHING, tight pink lycra, shave your legs and head out onto areas of our planet designed, built and clearly suitable for motor going vehicles, you are asking for trouble.
Now, don't get me wrong, I'm all for regular exercise, i even get the concept that these clowns feel some sense of belonging in their branded little outfits, BUT.....cycling in a group of 4 or more with "TEAM BOB'S ELECTRICAL" does not give you pricks the right to ride next to each other, EVER!
Patting each others asses as you overtake? Are you serious? The rage that wells up inside of me when i witness grown men(women) perform this bizarre ritual, deep breath, count to 10, keep hands on steering wheel......
Of course, no article could be written about cyclists without drawing attention to something so spectacularly mind boggling that i expect to see it featured on Stephen Hawkings universe on discovery TV: Talking, and sometimes even texting!!!! on your cellphone, whilst cycling on busy roads (once again, surrounded by 2000kg engine powered vehicles). It makes you wonder that possibly, the asshole is thinking ahead, texting his wife perhaps: "hi honey, see you at medi-clinic in 30 min, about to be side-swiped by a 16 wheeler mac truck, lol...)
Having donated $5 to the Lance Armstrong foundation does not automatically grant you superpowers and no, spending enough money to feed a small country for a week on a bike, will not make you cycle like him either (blogs about Lance and what a complete prick he is, to follow).
"Fun riders" identifiable by their unshaven legs, underpants underneath their cycling shorts (comparable to the fashion fuax par of the visible panty line or VPL) and mountain bikes WITH off road tyres are considered fair game when driving, i liken them to Darwins theory of evolution or survival of the fittest, easier to catch....
You fuckers get the use of the road for ONE day of the year in March, other than that, you're a menace, hanging out at the Sandbar does not look cool after a ride. Now, where is my razor.......
I am overcome daily with the desire to apply the laws of physics (speed, mass, velocity) whilst driving. If you are going to dress up in MATCHING, tight pink lycra, shave your legs and head out onto areas of our planet designed, built and clearly suitable for motor going vehicles, you are asking for trouble.
Now, don't get me wrong, I'm all for regular exercise, i even get the concept that these clowns feel some sense of belonging in their branded little outfits, BUT.....cycling in a group of 4 or more with "TEAM BOB'S ELECTRICAL" does not give you pricks the right to ride next to each other, EVER!
Patting each others asses as you overtake? Are you serious? The rage that wells up inside of me when i witness grown men(women) perform this bizarre ritual, deep breath, count to 10, keep hands on steering wheel......
Of course, no article could be written about cyclists without drawing attention to something so spectacularly mind boggling that i expect to see it featured on Stephen Hawkings universe on discovery TV: Talking, and sometimes even texting!!!! on your cellphone, whilst cycling on busy roads (once again, surrounded by 2000kg engine powered vehicles). It makes you wonder that possibly, the asshole is thinking ahead, texting his wife perhaps: "hi honey, see you at medi-clinic in 30 min, about to be side-swiped by a 16 wheeler mac truck, lol...)
Having donated $5 to the Lance Armstrong foundation does not automatically grant you superpowers and no, spending enough money to feed a small country for a week on a bike, will not make you cycle like him either (blogs about Lance and what a complete prick he is, to follow).
"Fun riders" identifiable by their unshaven legs, underpants underneath their cycling shorts (comparable to the fashion fuax par of the visible panty line or VPL) and mountain bikes WITH off road tyres are considered fair game when driving, i liken them to Darwins theory of evolution or survival of the fittest, easier to catch....
You fuckers get the use of the road for ONE day of the year in March, other than that, you're a menace, hanging out at the Sandbar does not look cool after a ride. Now, where is my razor.......
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
south african travel packages
This may or may not have appeared in the travel section of a UK newspaper a few weeks ago.
HOLIDAY IN SUNNY SOUTH AFRICA!
Need a break? Longing for a cultural experience? Bored with your life/wife? Need some extra cash?
For a limited time only, ghetto safaris is offering an all in one travel solution, our package includes:
* Transfers to and from all major airports (subject to availabilty of police vehicles)
* Guided tour of an authentic South African shanty town
* Convenient seperation of your newly life-insured spouse
* Free and readily available media hounds
* Fast and efficient return flights to the UK
* Even faster return, return flights back to South Africa
* Unlimited access to the countries top defense lawyers
* South Africa's crime riddled statistics to ensure a water tight and beliveable alibi
TERMS AND CONDITIONS APPLY
PAYMENT TO GHETTO TOURS ONLY DUE ON SPOUSE'S LIFE INSURANCE PAYOUT
DAMAGE TO SOUTH AFRICAN TOURISM NOT FOR CLIENTS ACCOUNT
PACKAGE MAY OR MAY NOT INCLUDE A STAY (TIME TO BE DETERMINED) IN ONE OF SOUTH AFRICAS FANTASTIC CORRECTIONAL FACILITIES (ALL MEALS INCLUDED)
HOLIDAY IN SUNNY SOUTH AFRICA!
Need a break? Longing for a cultural experience? Bored with your life/wife? Need some extra cash?
For a limited time only, ghetto safaris is offering an all in one travel solution, our package includes:
* Transfers to and from all major airports (subject to availabilty of police vehicles)
* Guided tour of an authentic South African shanty town
* Convenient seperation of your newly life-insured spouse
* Free and readily available media hounds
* Fast and efficient return flights to the UK
* Even faster return, return flights back to South Africa
* Unlimited access to the countries top defense lawyers
* South Africa's crime riddled statistics to ensure a water tight and beliveable alibi
TERMS AND CONDITIONS APPLY
PAYMENT TO GHETTO TOURS ONLY DUE ON SPOUSE'S LIFE INSURANCE PAYOUT
DAMAGE TO SOUTH AFRICAN TOURISM NOT FOR CLIENTS ACCOUNT
PACKAGE MAY OR MAY NOT INCLUDE A STAY (TIME TO BE DETERMINED) IN ONE OF SOUTH AFRICAS FANTASTIC CORRECTIONAL FACILITIES (ALL MEALS INCLUDED)
national radio
i spend a lot of time in my car. this equates to a lot of time spent listening to the radio (normally turned up to a ridiculously high volume to drown out the sounds of my kids' incessant whinging (blogs on children and why you should never, ever have them, to follow))
now, you would think that, as a pretty much hip, happening youthful country, we would have some kind of semi decent national or even provincial radio station. please note "semi decent". i am not asking for the impossible, just a half dozen DJ's that have the following criteria:
1. the ability to read text, notes etc without it blatantly clear that they are reading off a page. you're on radio you doos, no one can see you, would it kill you to actually prepare for your show before the time?
2. the ability to actually mix it up when it comes to music selection, once again, I'm not asking for these guys/girls to actually mix one song into the next like a real DJ (god forbid) I'm just asking to please, PLEASE, throw in a couple of surprises, with 50 years worth of digital music a click of the mouse away, why do we have to hear the same 20 songs played to death! before i have a bunch of idiotic replies regarding playlists, show producer etc calling the shots, give me a break. they do ratings checks on radio stations and DJ's all the time, if i hear elana afrika play anything by led zepelin, pink floyd or pearl jam i might just start removing the knitting needles out of my elana afrika hair doll (ok, that's never gonna happen).
3. less talk, more talk talk. less jabber, more abba. great marketing by kfm some time back, only problem.....kfm sucks sweaty donkeys balls, and when their DJ's do talk (the morning show) i secretly pray that surgical scalpels magically appear from my speakers and slice my ears clean off.
5fm, you are the most current, national radio station, your DJ's are by far, the worst. i think Gareth Cliff and his team are quite brilliant, the problem begins at 9am, Sasha Martinengo, its bad enough you enjoy formula 1 so much that you feel the need to torture us with your incessant crap about this sport (?!) you are so far past your sell by date, you are like that ex pro tennis player who now teaches tennis at my kids school, cringe.
the only positive (that in itself is scary) of sasha is he blends the brilliance of gareth and the torture that is grant & anele. i think that, if grant and anele came on air after gareth, there would be a sharp rise in unexplained car accidents, i for one, have considered the 10 meter sheer plunge off the freeway flyover as an alternative to the crud that spews forth from these two DJ's mouths.
DJ fresh, you cant fool me bro, its your support team that pulls you through, your laugh is cool for about 2 minutes, after that, an inkling of talent would be appreciated. KB, rob vember, you guys deserve special mention, if ever you went into con artist work full time, you'd clean up, you got jobs on national radio, that's like me walking into cape town medi clinic and performing open heart surgery.
goodhope, safm, cape talk etc, these stations do not justify the energy required to type a comment.
in closing, i can hear the starting chords for kings of leon "radioactive", second time today on 5fm, it would have been such a cool concert, pity......
now, you would think that, as a pretty much hip, happening youthful country, we would have some kind of semi decent national or even provincial radio station. please note "semi decent". i am not asking for the impossible, just a half dozen DJ's that have the following criteria:
1. the ability to read text, notes etc without it blatantly clear that they are reading off a page. you're on radio you doos, no one can see you, would it kill you to actually prepare for your show before the time?
2. the ability to actually mix it up when it comes to music selection, once again, I'm not asking for these guys/girls to actually mix one song into the next like a real DJ (god forbid) I'm just asking to please, PLEASE, throw in a couple of surprises, with 50 years worth of digital music a click of the mouse away, why do we have to hear the same 20 songs played to death! before i have a bunch of idiotic replies regarding playlists, show producer etc calling the shots, give me a break. they do ratings checks on radio stations and DJ's all the time, if i hear elana afrika play anything by led zepelin, pink floyd or pearl jam i might just start removing the knitting needles out of my elana afrika hair doll (ok, that's never gonna happen).
3. less talk, more talk talk. less jabber, more abba. great marketing by kfm some time back, only problem.....kfm sucks sweaty donkeys balls, and when their DJ's do talk (the morning show) i secretly pray that surgical scalpels magically appear from my speakers and slice my ears clean off.
5fm, you are the most current, national radio station, your DJ's are by far, the worst. i think Gareth Cliff and his team are quite brilliant, the problem begins at 9am, Sasha Martinengo, its bad enough you enjoy formula 1 so much that you feel the need to torture us with your incessant crap about this sport (?!) you are so far past your sell by date, you are like that ex pro tennis player who now teaches tennis at my kids school, cringe.
the only positive (that in itself is scary) of sasha is he blends the brilliance of gareth and the torture that is grant & anele. i think that, if grant and anele came on air after gareth, there would be a sharp rise in unexplained car accidents, i for one, have considered the 10 meter sheer plunge off the freeway flyover as an alternative to the crud that spews forth from these two DJ's mouths.
DJ fresh, you cant fool me bro, its your support team that pulls you through, your laugh is cool for about 2 minutes, after that, an inkling of talent would be appreciated. KB, rob vember, you guys deserve special mention, if ever you went into con artist work full time, you'd clean up, you got jobs on national radio, that's like me walking into cape town medi clinic and performing open heart surgery.
goodhope, safm, cape talk etc, these stations do not justify the energy required to type a comment.
in closing, i can hear the starting chords for kings of leon "radioactive", second time today on 5fm, it would have been such a cool concert, pity......
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
speedos
is it all right to wear speedos? of course it is! its also ok to live in austria, have a name like joseph fritzl and lock your daughter in a dungeon.
it is NEVER ok to wear a speedo.
sorry, one exception, partaking in olympic swimming events (even then it looks ridiculous).
i don't care if youre built like a greek god, if you're on the beach, wear boardshorts. with the amount of insanely hot ass walking around clifton beach, wearing the teeny tiniest of bikini's (i was there today, its off the hook) why would any sane guy voluntarily squash his sausage into an envelope sized piece of fabric? when your testosterone (or whatever chemical controls my brain (read:penis)) starts working overtime, where you gonna hide, at least with boardshorts, you can kind of sit down and casually adjust the "generous" fabric to minimise the chubby.
its not like society is even trying to make life hard for guys, girls, on the other hand, will wear bikinis, cosmo says so and you will look like the chick on the cover in 4 weeks if you stick to the new lettuce diet, lettuce salads, three times a day, hold the lettuce.....
it is NEVER ok to wear a speedo.
sorry, one exception, partaking in olympic swimming events (even then it looks ridiculous).
i don't care if youre built like a greek god, if you're on the beach, wear boardshorts. with the amount of insanely hot ass walking around clifton beach, wearing the teeny tiniest of bikini's (i was there today, its off the hook) why would any sane guy voluntarily squash his sausage into an envelope sized piece of fabric? when your testosterone (or whatever chemical controls my brain (read:penis)) starts working overtime, where you gonna hide, at least with boardshorts, you can kind of sit down and casually adjust the "generous" fabric to minimise the chubby.
its not like society is even trying to make life hard for guys, girls, on the other hand, will wear bikinis, cosmo says so and you will look like the chick on the cover in 4 weeks if you stick to the new lettuce diet, lettuce salads, three times a day, hold the lettuce.....
prepare to be offended
the CHOP: a south african slang term for opinionated, self righteous, and arrogant. example: wow Dean, you really are a chop. also used to describe tasty cuts of beef or lamb to be cooked over hot coals in a south african national pastime, the braai (blogs on braai, braai etiquette etc to follow)
please don't take this too seriously, it is my highly opinionated view of the world. if you are easily offended by my views of society, religion, sport, radio,tv, movies, parenthood, cats, dogs, midgets etc, stop reading this and find something more politically correct (blogs about politically correct and why it fucking sucks, to follow). i will be adding to my blog as often as possible (trust me, there is no shortage of material out there) if you have a topic worth discussing, please feel free to suggest it and i will gladly add my opinion (highly one sided and generally without much fact to back it up, but i believe I'm always right).
welcome to the CHOP, glad to have you along for the ride, its gonna be bumpy.........
please don't take this too seriously, it is my highly opinionated view of the world. if you are easily offended by my views of society, religion, sport, radio,tv, movies, parenthood, cats, dogs, midgets etc, stop reading this and find something more politically correct (blogs about politically correct and why it fucking sucks, to follow). i will be adding to my blog as often as possible (trust me, there is no shortage of material out there) if you have a topic worth discussing, please feel free to suggest it and i will gladly add my opinion (highly one sided and generally without much fact to back it up, but i believe I'm always right).
welcome to the CHOP, glad to have you along for the ride, its gonna be bumpy.........
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