at the mercy of mother nature...

Mother nature is at her bitchiest here in the Cape. And we all know Cape Town peeps; a bit of rain and they're all freaked out. Hell, we closed a whole freeway this AM, over a little bit of water.

On Friday, I was chilling with people made of some different stuff though. Rain or not, CC, JC and myself whipped out the braai stand, organised an umbrella, booze and skilpaatjies.

Problem is, I had the little matter of a rugby game on Saturday afternoon, so my drinking had to be limited to light beer. Nontheless, we all had fun listening to a 'Wackhead' Simpson CD and munching on some good meat.

Despite only consuming three Savannah Lites, all of 3% alcohol in them, I woke up with a hangover. Seriously. I chilled in bed the whole morning before heading over to the field. The game was a bruiser, but we were playing the bottom team in the league. Evidence was the 51 points we wracked up.

That wasn't the fun part though. The fun and games were on the 1st XV bench. Some of us were sat there for some 80 minutes in the biting cold and stinging rain, huddled under one umbrella, counting down the minutes. I got a 5 minute run at the end, which I was delighted about just to get moving. The banter on the bench was fabulous though. I raced home afterwards for two reasons; to jump out of the soaking clothing I was in and into a hot shower, and to catch what was left of the Sharks game at Fat Cactus.

I caught the second-half, regrettably. The Sharks were awful, and the less said, the better. Ditto the rest of the evening. I can't remember having a good time at the Stones in Obz.

I spent yesterday with JC and CC, lunch at Rascals, pizza and movies on the couch. Talking a whole lot of shyte as well, just to keep each other entertained. It was brilliant. A day well spent.

The weather is most uninspiring, so much of the same expected this week.

twit or twitter?

I decided to be a twit and Twitter. It's lousy. All you can do is add "Followers" (read friends), and update your status. That's it. It's like, Facebook Lite. With NO fat, whatsoever. That's the end of that experiment.

My mom called me up during the MJ memorial to ask me if I was watching. She reminded me of the days when I used to go up in front of the telly and impersonate MJ or Lionel Richie when one of their songs went on. I felt like quite a tard, and hurried her through her moment of nostalgia.

I'm keen to go see the game at Newlands tomorrow evening. It's going to rain, I have it on the good authority of the South African Weather Service. But at R50 (!) a pop to see the Sharks, no matter how depleted, and a virtually full strength Province side. Not that many Cape Townians willing to sit in the rain though.

What happened to the "Year of the Fan" campaign?

up yours to the Brits

The Brits have gotten to my tits now, seriously. Not their citizens, at least, but their sports journalists. Bunch of prats, the lot of them. For a bunch of people who look to Gordon Brown and Prince Charles for inspiration, I can understand why they are utter pricks.

It started with the bunch that came over with the British and Irish Lions team to play the Springboks. They hyped up their team sommer the okes who were left behind to wax lyrical about Andy Murray.

Then after the whole eye-gouging affair, the pricks have the audacity to tell us what to do with our coach. Never mind the propaganda they spread following Pieter de Villiers' press conference after the whole eye-gouging incident. The crap they wrote was so far removed from what de Villiers actually said, it defied belief.

The man on the street would read this in the papers and believe it word for word, but I was smart enough to trawl the Web and look for the transcripts of the press conference. After reading it, I was livid! It was akin to spreading lies.

From my take, they were trying to divert attention from yet another Lions series defeat, branding them heroes, and the Boks savages. How the Brits love to celebrate defeat! I was pissed off, but well, let them stew in mediocrity, while we basked in victory.

Prior and throughout he Confed Cup, all the noises coming from the Brits was how dangerous South Africa was. Apparently, we're too scared to step outside to go buy the milk, fearing hijacking, mugging, rape and murder. Articles of this nature were abundant, and it seemed every effort was being made to discredit our country.

The Lions came and went, all 50 000 of them, with no major incidents. And then I read this article on The Guardian website, which is one of the respected papers and websites. The writer is a regular contributor to the site, and her opinion seems to have been well respected before this article.

The article is despicable and poorly researched, but is similar to many an article I have read from British columnists. Then I bumped into an article written by Jeremy Clarkson after he had visited Jo'burg and stayed there for a few weeks. It made me feel a little better about the British scribes, but not much. It's hilarious, though.

What did we ever do to the Brits? Are they still carrying scars from the Boer war? There definitely seems to be a concerted effort to discredit South Africa as a viable World Cup host, but it will be up to us to prove the Poms wrong. Personally, I'm confident we can do it. The Rugby World Cup, African Cup of Nations, Cricket World Cup, T20 World Cup, IPL, and the many more competitions we have hosted, could not have been a fluke. The Soccer World Cup will be much bigger, but I rest assured we will be ready.

too much dancing leads to sore buttocks...

"Rough night?" Asked my housemates yesterday after my 12 hour convalescence.

"The night was great, it's the day that's killing me." Was my retort.

Considering I almost didn't go out, I'm in two minds what to make of Saturday night. I came home after my rugby game, which we lost 6-5, I read and fell asleep. I had already written off a trip to Table View, and at 10pm, with no inclination to leave my bed, was about to turn off my phone when CC rang and suggested a trip to Oblivion.

Since he eliminated the risk of driving as well, I couldn't say no, especially with half the quota of dancing girls also going. The girls were in a rather sombre mood, and it would have felt like a wasted trip to go all the way there for such a night. It was nothing Jaggermeister cannot cure though, and soon, we had the girls trawling the dancefloor.

Things soon got complicated though, as they seem to often on a dancefloor. As much as I hate it when someone does this to me, I cannot elaborate on that just yet. Let's just say girl like boy, boy like girl. But it's complicated.

Things just got worse when J, who wasn't working, as I originally had feared, pitched up. I understood why I like that girl, which I don't want to, but I do. What can I do? I was having a hell of a time, so I thought fuck everything, and went bos on the dancefloor (avoiding pole dancing, though). I only get to once a week.

I spent some six hours on CC's couch before heading for my own bed to complete my recovery. My head may be feeling better, but the rest of the body still has to catch up. But there's no rest for the wicked, and life goes on.

the titanic game...

Ever had one of those weeks that just fly by without anything of consequence happening or achieving anything noteworthy so you just float through the week and let things happen on their own like MTN double debiting your account or the cat next door piss on your car or dropping your lunch of lasagna on your keyboard and being stuck in the office while your mates are at Ratanga Junction and sending you MMS' of what a jolly good time they're having and the only reply you can think of is "Cretins".

So I let MTN have my money, they can hold on to it for me for the time being. The cat next door is off the hook because let's face it, the inquisitive shit will be road kill on the dangerous streets of Mowbray. I have a new keyboard, and I found out the lasagna has tomatoes while I was picking it off my desk, so I suppose I gained a bit there. And the cretins at Ratanga? Well, the mofos have flu from some ride that goes through water. Karma bitches!

Winter makes a real sour puss out of me. I had a friend over last night, and she brought over a bottle of Jack Daniels and a bottle of Simonsvlei Sweet Rosé (it's been a while [!]), along with a copy of Titanic (!). Yeah, I know. I also raised an eyebrow and was like, WTF chicky?!

She settled me down and told me the score. Basically, it's all a drinking game, of sorts. Every time Rose said Jack, she took a shot of her JD, and every time Jack said Rose, I took a shot of my Simonsvlei. She said there would be no winners in this game, just losers. She never mentioned a draw, as we both scored.

The consequences have been dire, of course. But well worth it. At least the day is over, and now I'm left with the biggest dilemma on earth; rugby practice, or jol at Tiger?

rugby saturday...

If I hear another MJ song, tribute, or conspiracy theory on his death, I'm going to vomit. Every radio station, TV news agency, and man on the street has been at it ad nauseam this weekend. The conspiracy theories are what got to me the most. Don't they know to blame it on the sunshine, blame it on the moonlight, blame it on the good time, blame it on the boogie?

Luckily there was enough to distract me during the weekend. I was supposed to have an early night on Friday due to the busy schedule I had lined up on Saturday. But 2am I was still at Stones with Coffee, Mini Cooper and his date. Mini's date had a hard time handling her tequila, which made for a hilarious conversation at the bar.

Three hours of sleep, and I had to get my 'Rugby Saturday' rolling. First it was off to breakfast and catch the first half of the All Blacks/Italy game. No problem. Then off to SACS to catch some Cape Schools rugby, particularly Selborne vs Paarl Gym. I caught up with a few old boys I knew, and avoided the younger old boys. They are always a distinct bunch; loud, abrasive, shoddily dressed and usually sporting a Castle can.

Unfortunately, Selborne lost 14-18 despite being the better side. Like all the Selborne 1st XVs I watched over my high school years, they only lost as a result of failing to take their chances, not because they were beaten by a better team. I stayed behind to watch the first half of the Grey PE/Rondebosch game, which was quite entertaining.

Then it was off to get my own game underway. During the first 10 minutes, I had the ball six times, created two scoring opportunities, squandered one, and gained some good yardage. I could hear the opposition in a panic plotting how to stop me during one stoppage, which was music to my ears. After that, I hurt my shoulder, and we couldn't keep the ball to save a life. As a result of those missed opportunities and ill-discipline, we went into halftime 5-15 down.

After going down 5-22 early on in the second stanza, we rallied to score five unanswered tries, one of those by me. I did spill one on the line for what everyone reckons would have been try of the season, but oh well.

With my shoulder in so much pain, I decided to have a quiet night, so I chilled at Mel's with CC. I caught some of the highlights from the Boks victory over the B&I Lions, which must have been a fantastic game. We called it a night early at 11pm, because were as uninspired a bunch as you could find.

Yesterday was a beaut of a day, so Mr. Paul, CC, JC and I had lunch at Rascals. I was still pretty buggered, so I decided to catch the Confed game at home after I completed a few errands. I didn't even bother to watch the final, my thoughts were on sleep.

My shoulder is still a little sore, but the anti-inflammatory stuffs did me a lot of good. I might not be able to do any upper body weights this week, but at least I'll be ready to play on Saturday. I quite enjoyed playing centre rather than the fool at the back. Touch wood I stay there.

It's a lovely week ahead; sunshine all the way. Apart from the usual, I have little to complain about.

R.I.P MJ...

For some reason, I'm highly irritable this morning. For what reason? I have every reason to be cheerful. The sun is out, payday, I'm working half-day today, and 'Wacko Jacko' was put out of his misery.

Don't get me wrong, I loved Michael Jackson. My family still relay the tails to whomever will listen of how I loved the song "Thriller", but couldn't bare to sit through the video. The man was my childhood hero.

But after his face started melting like wax and took up kiddie fiddling, I kept my adolescent admiration for the man to myself. I started to pity the man after he went bust, and him passing on really feels like he has been put out of his misery. R.I.P.

At first I thought the whole MJ 'kicking the bucket' thing was a hoax after some idiots started circulating an e-mail yesterday of some stadium in Malaysia who's roof collapsed and claimed it was the Moses Mabhida Stadium. I saw the thing to be a hoax, and replied to the sender and included everyone that was Cc'ed on the mail to tell them off.

There's no need to be undermining the efforts being put in to successfully host the World Cup. It's shameful and very underhanded. I don't have time for pricks of that ilk.

I must be going through PMS or something; the stress, insomnia, muscle pain, headaches, fatigue, mood swings... I'm telling you. Not sure about the abdominal cramps and bloating, or the breast tenderness. I'll keep you posted though.

Just to have some decent karma on my side, I swung by PEP (!) to buy a couple of blankets, and ransacked my cupboard for some old clothes and shoes, and cruised through to N1 City to drop off the stuff where Goodhope FM were doing this whole "Keep Cape Town Warm" campaign. That's commitment for the cause for you, eh?

They didn't want a pair of running shoes I offered, but no sweat, I know a guy. There's this dude who comes around to ask for food and money in the early evening, so I skipped my gym session to wait for the bloke. They were a tight fit, but his toes will be snug in those. They'll be especially handy if, you know, he's running from the long arm of the law (he's not a fan of the red tape required to go through to "acquire" certain items of his liking).

Now I can sit back and wait for karma to pay me back. Perhaps play the lotto tomorrow.