Having kids. Part 2, the pregnancy.

So now what? You've knocked her up, well done bro.

You'll want to share the exciting news, right? Now, regardless of your relationship with your mother up until this point in your life, the first person your fingers will dial is your old lady, don't ask me why, it just seems to happen. So, you're on the phone to your mom, shes on the phone to her mom and if by some bizarre cosmic reaction, the now expectant grannies will be transformed into living, breathing how-to-eat-sleep-work out the sex-sleep pregnancy encyclopedias. Sure, moms intentions are good, but to maintain sanity, extract the info that you need only. That first phone call is guaranteed to end with this pearler: "Don't tell anyone about this until the 3 month mark, darling!" Huh? What? Why? Well its a reality, miscarriages are common, but you're so flipping excited that you're going to tell your friends, work colleagues, postman, car guard, but as long as you tell each person "Hey, its early days, so don't tell anyone, ok?" everything will be fine.

So, the countdown has begun, nine months until an alien arrives.

Over this period of time, everything changes.

At first, very subtle changes, books on pregnancy appear, where they come from and why anyone would require 15 varieties of "what to expect when you're expecting" is beyond me. Eating habits change. When your princess actually manages to hold down a meal, her appetite which once rivalled that of a hummingbird, will now have the magnitude of that weird Asian hotdog eating champion. Most women rely on a sneaky diet of cigarettes, chewing gum, coffee and lettuce, take 3 of those away and well.....its not pretty. Now you as the unsuspecting schmuck will also suffer around the waistline, there's probably some pseudo-psycho name for this like husband-comfort-pregnancy-eating, be warned! Of course the bonus to the weight gain and the females hormone change is the increased boob size, those puppies are gonna get massive (awesome) this would be great if you're allowed to touch them/her, but seeing as she  now considers her body as a sacred-baby-carrying-temple, don't even think about it (sucks). Shnookie-pie's normally carefree attitude (hey, I'm just generalizing) regarding the little things around the house will also start to change (understatement) its called the nesting instinct or some shit like that, its hectic.

so, your chicks become a fat, puking, anal-retentive, untouchable bitch. awesome hey? don't forget to tell her that shes radiant and glowing (everyone she bumps into (excuse the pun) will).

Ok, so you're freaking out, that's cool, salvation awaits in the form of my 2 personal favourites, the gynae visit and the motherfucker of them all : THE ANTE-NATAL CLASS!

I have a dream, one day I'll bump into the sadist that conjured up the concept of anxious, neurotic couples, who are complete strangers, thrown into evening (fuck me!) classes where the most gruesome, intricate details of child birth will discussed, analyzed and even (and this is where I fainted in front of everyone) viewed, on a 40 inch plasma, in high definition.

I like to think that its all marshmallows and candy-floss inside the human body, I pass out during blood tests, I do not need to have someone explain things that are called: "braxton-hicks, breaching, bloody-show (my personal favourite).

The gynae-visit, wow, what a mind-fuck. sitting in the waiting room, talking in hushed tones. your chick waddles off to the loo to piss in a cup and you're left flipping through pregnancy magazines hoping theres a hot chick modelling fold down bras. Then, into the room you go, I would start off sitting on a chair, less distance to fall when the good doctor starts going into detail  about my wife's vagina (I would like someone to please explain to me how they let men become gynaecologists? I can picture some med kids sitting around their dorm room, "I want to look at pussy all day so I'm gonna become a gynae).

So, as the calender counts down, the books have been read, the room is prepared, hospital bag is packed. Take this advice: Go to the movies, a lot. Will your lives change when baby comes? You have no fucking idea!

Next: Part 3, the big day.

Cricket

The reality of how insanely crap this game is, hit me like a missed pull-shot to the head, when trying to explain it to an American friend of mine.

"So, let me get this straight" he drawled in his nasally accent "You guys actually have a game that's more boring than baseball?" Now wait for it......he was of course referring to a limited overs game.

In this day and age of fast cars, fast food, fast Internet and faster women, how, I ask you, with tears in my eyes, can you justify five days to play one game? Now, before you purists out there (read: old farts) get your conkers in a twist, let me add this, if you're going to spend five days in a field patting your team mates' asses, would it be too much to ask to have a result at the end? A draw?! A fucking draw?!!!!!!! You have got to be kidding me? "Oh, but it was a titanic battle between batsman and bowler" "This game is on a knife edge, it can swing either way" "The captain has some careful decisions to make at this point". I'm sorry, did I miss something between drinks break, tea and lunch? The only thing that swings both ways are some of the cricketers (sorry KP, you peroxide your hair, you definitely like a bit of polony sandwich).

So, we can all agree that the five day game (yawn) is a total waste of time, limited overs, surely a better option? Um, no. My opinion on this is largely based on our countries' incredible depth of talent, we possess the greatest all round cricketer in our team (Jacques, you beauty, love the new hair) but when this genius can bat through a rib injury, score a 100 and we still lose, that's it, the proteas, the management, the game in general can  get caught in the proverbial silly mid-on. If you require more reasoning, match-fixing, detailed conversations about a fucking crack in the pitch and the whopper of them all: Duckworth-Lewis!

Here we have the most complicated, retarded system ever when the heavens open (do cricket players melt when it rains?) Does anyone actually know how the DL system works? I'll bet the answers no, some grumpy prick of an umpire (do these guys ever smile?) just sticks his finger up his ass and goes " I think SA, Australia etc, need to get 5000 runs in 10 overs due to the light drizzle we experienced for 15 minutes, gee, thanks for that.

I will admit, I have enjoyed the occasional game at Newlands, drinking beer, cute WASP chicks everywhere......wait a second, that's why I go to bars! Take away the beer and chicks? Poncy guys rubbing a ball against their crotches.

It's a month to the cricket world cup, where the saffa's actually have a chance of winning, but they will choke as usual and the nations' hopes will be dashed. The Springboks have won TWO world cups, at this point I'll be happy if we could win a series against Bangladesh.

Thank you Herschelle Gibbs for injecting some excitement, I vote they make you coach, get the team, drunk, high and laid and who knows.....we might start winning?

Joburgers

It's been a while since my last post, December holidays are like that in Cape Town, the days seem to flow into each other in a haze of beach, beer and braais. Despite many years of conditioning, this couple of weeks can make even the most hardened capetonian feel like they have dipped their finger into the proverbial acid pot and have entered a strange and weird place not unlike Alice tumbling into wonderland. Between mid December and the first week of January, leaving your house to hit the beach, waterfront or even a milk and bread run, you are guaranteed an encounter with that strange and intriguing creature: the Vaalie (or joburger or maximus blingus).

So we live in a city that's as close to perfect as any in the world, so I'm kind of ok with giving up the beaches, malls, pubs and clubs for two weeks to this annual migration (infestation?) The weather is notoriously fickle this time of the year anyway, so when the the last Ferrari, Lamborghini, custom Harley has been put back on the train for good 'ol gauteng, we can settle into the real months of cape town summer and chuckle at each other as we find a parking within 20 nautical miles of our destination.

Why are vaalies so easy to spot? Let's exclude the cherry red sports car with the GP number plate "V-FAST", that's too easy. I"m talking about a single stand alone unit, male or female. Identifying a group is also easy, any number of 4 or more walking side by side each other blocking the entire pavement, entrance to the Ed Hardy shop or on the good couch at Caprice doesn't count, for true vaalie spotting points, look for the details. Its summer after all, so we all generally wear less clothes, its how these outfits are put together that truly boggles the mind (and wallet).

Capetonians (male): boardshorts, tshirt, slip slops. Joburg (male): boardshorts (Ed hardy), vest (silver star), trainers (with socks), power balance band and various other multi-coloured bangles that would make some of the guys on clifton 3rd blush), add a cap, sunglasses, watch and jewellery to the ensemble and you've got the average joburg males' beach look.

I'm sure my psychiatrist will tell me that I target the guys fashion sense more than the girls because I didn't get breast fed until i was 3 or some crap like that, the truth is, the joburg chicks are generally fucking hot, travel in groups (packs, sets) are so well manicured that they use Gucci tampons (true story) and are generally easier to talk to than the average ice-cold model-actress-waitress-don't even look my way cape town girl that I'll put up with whatever they wear. (except those fucking sandals! Are they boots? are they sandals? they're open in the front (sandals) but have leather up to your calf (boots!) All you need is Russell Crowe and a fucking spear and you're good to go!)

Cape Town, breathtaking views of Table mountain, Lions head, Clifton's sparkling water, beautiful people everywhere, lots to look at when you're driving, right? Sure, I understand, why rush? You're on holiday, cruise down the road, take it all in. Now, this might come as a surprise to you from up north, but there is actually a reason why there are two or more lanes in the road, if you want to drive slowly, KEEP FUCKING LEFT!!!!! Isn't Joburg like a big city? Surely you have multi-laned roads there? Next time I'm in Joburg (ha ha ha ha ha ha ha) I'll cruise around looking at all your touristy stuff (gated roads, security estates) doing 30 in the fast lane.

Thanks for coming to visit, thanks for spending all your cash at our restaurants, thanks for fighting with each other in our bars and clubs, a special thank you to the ladies for all that gym time, thank you guys for making the biggest, meanest capetonian look like a smurf, thanks for making me love my scooter, thanks  for asking me at the top of lions head where you can buy a water, thanks for showing me that money cant buy style, until next year, see you my china.