The Trials and Tribulations of an Involved Guy

More from Bash

2007-11-16T09:03:00.000+02:00

OMG, I know this is sort of plagiarism - sort of - but holy cow these are cracking me up...

MooseOnDaLoose> Hey Mike
goatboy> what?
MooseOnDaLoose> Pussy.
goatboy> er?
MooseOnDaLoose> Pussy.
goatboy> and?
MooseOnDaLoose> Pussy.
goatboy> ...
MooseOnDaLoose> Pussy.
goatboy> i dont get it
MooseOnDaLoose> AND YOU NEVER WILL.
goatboy> bastard

JonTG> Man, my penis is so big if I laid it out on a keyboard it'd go all the way from A to Z
JonTG> wait, shit

UKDJPlanet> I swear to god
UKDJPlanet> I've just heard a duck tell a joke
Jock> o...k
UKDJPlanet> there was as group of ducks on a pond near where i live
UKDJPlanet> one of the ducks was quacking away looking straight at a group of like 10 ducks
UKDJPlanet> then he stopped and all the other ducks went mental
UKDJPlanet> it looked just like duck stand-up comedy

kr4m3r> so many fucking criminals, its bullshit
foniks`> heh, if we sent all the criminals to some empty continent and just left them there to die
foniks`> and showed up like 50yrs later like, "sup?"
foniks`> whatd u think they'd say?
FoSZoR[bg]> something along the lines of, "G`Day mate"

The Funnies

2007-11-14T08:42:00.000+02:00

One of the things that has never ceased to make me crap myself laughing is Bash.org. Basically you'll find a whole bunch of recorded conversations from chat rooms. They are only recorded because they are unbelievably hysterical... or at least I think so.

Here are some of my favourites :-)

T-Wolf: man, my girlfriend left me for some faggot named robert
RdAwG20: you don't live in Hope mills do you?
T-Wolf: ya, why man?
RdAwG20: lol, just wondering, was her namne alisson?
T-Wolf: you mother fucker

jeebus: the "bishop" came to our church today
jeebus: he was a fucken impostor
jeebus: never once moved diagonally

bloodninja: Baby, I been havin a tough night so treat me nice aight?BritneySpears14: Aight.
bloodninja: Slip out of those pants baby, yeah.
BritneySpears14: I slip out of my pants, just for you, bloodninja.
bloodninja: Oh yeah, aight. Aight, I put on my robe and wizard hat.
BritneySpears14: Oh, I like to play dress up.
bloodninja: Me too baby.
BritneySpears14: I kiss you softly on your chest.
bloodninja: I cast Lvl. 3 Eroticism. You turn into a real beautiful woman.
BritneySpears14: Hey...
bloodninja: I meditate to regain my mana, before casting Lvl. 8 chicken of the Infinite.
BritneySpears14: Funny I still don't see it.
bloodninja: I spend my mana reserves to cast Mighty F*ck of the Beyondness.
BritneySpears14: You are the worst cyber partner ever. This is ridiculous.
bloodninja: Don't f*ck with me bitch, I'm the mightiest sorcerer of the lands.
bloodninja: I steal yo soul and cast Lightning Lvl. 1,000,000 Your body explodes into a fine bloody mist, because you are only a Lvl. 2 Druid.
BritneySpears14: Don't ever message me again you piece of ****.
bloodninja: Robots are trying to drill my brain but my lightning shield inflicts DOA attack, leaving the robots as flaming piles of metal.
bloodninja: King Arthur congratulates me for destroying Dr. Robotnik's evil army of Robot Socialist Republics. The cold war ends. Reagan steals my accomplishments and makes like it was cause of him.bloodninja: You still there baby? I think it's getting hard now.
bloodninja: Baby?
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
BritneySpears14: Ok, are you ready?
eminemBNJA: Aight, yeah I'm ready.
BritneySpears14: I like your music Em... Tee hee.
eminemBNJA: huh huh, yeah, I make it for the ladies.
BritneySpears14: Mmm, we like it a lot. Let me show you.
BritneySpears14: I take off your pants, slowly, and massage your muscular physique.
eminemBNJA: Oh I like that Baby. I put on my robe and wizard hat.
BritneySpears14: What the f*ck, I told you not to message me again.
eminemBNJA: Oh ****
BritneySpears14: I swear if you do it one more time I'm gonna report your ISP and say you were sending me kiddie porn you f*ck up.
eminemBNJA: Oh ****
eminemBNJA: damn I gotta write down your names or something

Canned Guava

2007-11-12T14:48:00.000+02:00

There are few things in the world that make you laugh more than the word "guava" and all its humorous connotations.

You can imagine the sheer delight and rolling-on-floor laughter that ensues when you see this...

It just makes you happy inside :-)

Mad Rapper Skillz

2007-11-07T08:42:00.000+02:00

So FTT and I constantly have this ongoing fued where he professes that rappers are ridiculously talented and stuffs. Just to fuel his rage, I give him shit... so this was a convo from this mornings chat....

FTT [08:17 AM]:
I"m listening to poetry
P Diddy Saurus [08:17 AM]:
cunt poetry?
FTT [08:17 AM]:
yes
look nigga, dont be sad cause you move out the hood, your momma still around and that aint good
P Diddy Saurus [08:17 AM]:
so basically it sounds like a messy bulldog eating porriage
FTT [08:17 AM]:
HAHA
P Diddy Saurus [08:18 AM]:
Now THAT is Grammy award winning stuff right there
those are some mad lyrics
takes more talent to write that than a 6 year old composing a symphony
hahahahah
FTT [08:18 AM]:
I bet you couldnt write rap song
in fact, I challenge you to a rap song write off.
P Diddy Saurus [08:18 AM]:
That's because I'm not retarded

FTT [08:20 AM]:
pick a topic
P Diddy Saurus [08:20 AM]:
Yo nigga, my bitches so hot, yo mammas so not
FTT [08:20 AM]:
punk
P Diddy Saurus [08:20 AM]:
I wish my cock was a twelve inch
cause then I'd fuck your bitch !
next line
FTT [08:21 AM]:
ya feel me dawg
P Diddy Saurus [08:21 AM]:
your turn
FTT [08:21 AM]:
yo yo yo
kk
kk
thinking...
P Diddy Saurus [08:21 AM]:
and there she was just a walkin down the street... thinkin
FTT [08:21 AM]:
so I"m sitting right here sipping on my java
P Diddy Saurus [08:21 AM]:
Doo wa diddy diddy dum diddy did me
FTT [08:21 AM]:
thinking, you aint shit - whateva
P Diddy Saurus [08:22 AM]:
java is pronounced "jar-vha" and doesn't ryhme with whateva
doos
try again
poet
...I like this game
FTT [08:22 AM]:
for inexperienced "rhymers" like you it doesnt rhyme
P Diddy Saurus [08:22 AM]:
I'm clearly the superior rapper
FTT [08:22 AM]:
remember this can rhyme
here have a coin
and now I'm goin
DOOS
P Diddy Saurus [08:23 AM]:
just because rappers can't spell or speak english doesn't make it right ok
FTT [08:23 AM]:
POES the english dont rap
so stop this anal retarded horse shit
just RAP!
let yourself go
P Diddy Saurus [08:24 AM]:
they just fuck munches that can't think of what to ryhme so they change the english language because they can't think past their left toe
FTT [08:24 AM]:
it will be a good feeling
P Diddy Saurus [08:24 AM]:
in the moment right
feel the music
ok ok
FTT [08:24 AM]:
hear is the beat
Philippe Morin [08:24 AM]:
hang on I feel it coming...
FTT [08:24 AM]:
boomb, dish, boom dish
P Diddy Saurus [08:24 AM]:
no no... it was a fart
FTT [08:24 AM]:
I have a shit on board, so I stick my hand down my pant
P Diddy Saurus [08:24 AM]:
just as good though
it ryhmes with art
so I must have done something right
FTT [08:25 AM]:
kk
go and write a proper rap song
P Diddy Saurus [08:25 AM]:
you pull out your hand 'cause you been playin wiff yo ant
FTT [08:25 AM]:
we can blog about it...
I challenge you, POES!
P Diddy Saurus [08:25 AM]:
'cause yo cock aint big
yo cock aint nuffin
yo cock is small
perhaps I should give you a good muffin
FTT [08:26 AM]:
yoyo
P Diddy Saurus [08:26 AM]:
'cause you my bitch!
FTT [08:26 AM]:
that shit is hot dawg
**dish dish boom boom
feel me?
HOLLA
F-Unit
The P + F connection, straight outta Bryanston keeping it hot

Things that make you piss yourself

2007-10-29T08:29:00.000+02:00

During my weekend excursions, good times out, and the rest of what I get up to, I decided to start taking photos of those things that make me piss myself laughing.

This mostly happens when I am with Wiggly :-)

Today I bring you... the nose hair trimmer. I took a photo of the front of the box and the side.

Note how happy the guy is to be tweasing his nostril hairs. Also, note how he does not shed even one tear in the process. This too can be yours for only R150... Good times

Self Tan 101... Part 3

2007-10-17T10:46:00.000+02:00

No more self tan. I fear that my winky may fall off in a gangreenous mound of rotten groinal tradgey.

Will find something else to ammuse myself with.

Okbi

Self Tan 101... Part 2

2007-10-15T16:18:00.000+02:00

Dear Diary

Today I looked down at my 'nana... The itching has stopped - thank God.

Okbi

FTT on the Dating scene

2007-10-14T12:17:00.000+02:00

Sunday morning... both in the office... on chat... FTT is nervous about first date / interview with hot blonde. The conversation goes thus...

FTT: I'm getting nervous
Phlippy: good
Phlippy: that means your zub will drop off
FTT what is a zub?
FTT: you must stop changing
FTT: this [insert girlfriend name here] chick or whoever she is influesing you too much
Phlippy: Zub. itt, teazy, biz... all lebanese words I have used countless times before
Phlippy: influensing - is that like giving me flu?
FTT: whatever
FTT: the word countless is like so last year
FTT: doos
Phlippy: like influensa
Phlippy: or did you mean influencing?
Phlippy: can never tell with you
FTT: like schrumptulescent
FTT: fuck you
Phlippy: functransluescent
FTT: ps.
FTT: nothing
Phlippy: whateva
FTT: oh yeah
Phlippy: let's do some push ups
FTT: can you please email me a list of hardcore words to use while I’m @ coffee?
FTT: fuck pushups
Phlippy: obsequious
FTT: gonna play a game of quake3 now, to just chill
Phlippy: fervent
Phlippy: jam
FTT: oh gawd, taht wil come out as perfett
FTT: purvert I mean
Phlippy: pervert you doos
FTT: "So are you wet right now"?FTT HAHAFTT "You seem quite flustered"
FTT: "I understand, I’m FTT Pienaar, I get this alot"
Phlippy: USE THAT!
Phlippy: I'm totally gonna blog this conversation
FTT: oh gawd
Phlippy: Let's just hope she doesn't read
Phlippy: or can't read
FTT: go mad, dont mind, it will get me exposure
Phlippy: maybe she's blind that's why she agreed to a date
FTT: for singlnesisity
Phlippy: or retarded
FTT: I'm feeeling my confidence rising by the minute
Phlippy: do you think she drools a lot
FTT: dude,
Phlippy: that could be hot
FTT: she is probably out with a guy she met on Friday
FTT: gawd, so scared right now
Phlippy: agh relax
FTT: kk, going to wank, there I"m always in control

Self Tan 101... Part 1

2007-10-14T11:54:00.000+02:00

So...

Well basically there is no easy way to say this. I decided with all the rain, and hugely negative affects of using sunbeds, I would delve deep into the world of metro-ness, and use self tan.

At this juncture I would like to point out that this is entirely my girlfriend's idea and she made me do it... Well not really, but you guys just go ahead and believe that ok ;-)

So anyway, I had this ingenious idea last night... What if I self tanned my winky?!? If I continue to do this on an ongoing basis will it go really really dark and make me hung like a black man by association?

Just a thought. It's day one. It burns a little but I'm sure I'll cope. My palms are also going orange. Mental note to self... wash hands after application...

SCANDAL!

2007-10-12T10:28:00.000+02:00

I am feeling really bad for my friend and work colleague right now.

I just found out that his fiance has been cheating on him. He found out by her phoning him and asking how far he was, then, after telling her she sent an sms to her "other man" and sent it to him by mistake reading, "Phew that was close, "friend"almost caught us"

He has confronted her and I am not certain as to what is happening but he is SHATTERED!

I cannot imagine anything in the world more soul destroying.

**sighs

We love Star Wars

2007-10-12T10:16:00.000+02:00

Don't you love it when a mail trail becomes an absolute pearler and your mates email you separately because they're pissing themselves laughing?

Here is this morning's trail, quite possibly very situational, but I wanted to share it with y'all. This is Funny because Mike used to ride a scooter...

From: Oli [mailto:an email address]
Sent: 12 October 2007 08:19 AM
To: A bunch of People
Subject: Mike as an actor

Hey mike. I saw you were an actor before you joined [insert our company name here]. ;)

From: Mike
Sent: 12 October 2007 08:39 AM
To: Oli; PhlippySaurus; Abunch of other people
Subject: RE: Mike as an actor

*sigh* oli *sigh*

From: PhlippySaurus
Sent: 12 October 2007 08:45 AM
To: A bunch of People
Subject: RE: Mike as an actor

I thought it was quite funny. Does your girlfriend dress up as Leia? That would be real funny...

**I wish my girlfriend dressed up as Leia... I could be her Wookie... *sigh*

From: L33tNess
Sent: 12 October 2007 09:56 AM
To: A bunch of People
Subject: RE: Mike as an actor

Omg that is funny!

Shout it from a Mountain

2007-10-03T10:22:00.000+02:00

In the famous words [slightly adapted] of my hero, Ron Burgundy, "I want to shout it from a mountain, but I don't have a mountain... I have a blog... and some fingers for typing... and oooh look... coffee."

That amazingly euphoric feeling of being 100% completely head over heals in love has gripped me for the first time in close on 6 years. I feel amazing and have no other outlet but this blog.

I have waited and waited and waited to make sure that what my brain is telling me is exactly inline with my heart. That I am not making shit up in my head, that I can go against all odds and brave this head on. Yes I can.

It is good to be in love. "Be happy, be mysterious, and you will always be in love." [Some famous dude said that... dunno who though, can't remember.]

Yeah, soooo, yeah, that's that, ummm, just wanted to let ya'all know.

[Grins like a little boy]

Still workin on funny how to blog... coming soon... promise]

Quiet Times

2007-09-28T11:02:00.000+02:00

I am so so so so so sorry I have been so quiet. I have so uch to write and bring to you people out there but am very tied up with work.

Basically it is like this, in very loose terms, I am becoming a far bigger player in my company and it is absorbing a lot of time during working hours [thank God no longer after working hours].

That in a nutshell means that the time that I would normally publish has gone out the window.

Also, my laptop was stolen... read, was stupid and left car unlocked... So I no longer have connectivity at home to publish. Ultimately a large cock up.

In the meantime I am more blissfully happy than I knew possible. I have a balance in life with my friends and girlfriend - a world first for me - and I gte butterflies every single time I know I'm going to see her, and even when her name appears on my phone. So all in all, happy Phlippy.

I will update with wicked exploits soon ;-)

Ciao for now

Sales Smackdown!

2007-09-04T14:30:00.001+02:00

WWE Style we enter into the final throws of the quarter, with Phlippy tight against the ropes there seems to be a daunting task ahead in defeating the mammoth target.

"Strangely enough Bob, he seems reticent to give up? His fighting will is amazing... Not to mention the abs!"

"Yes Steve this is quite a battle, two titans of the ring, collosal figures, neither relenting. OOOOooooohhhh and the target throws a mean left hook catching Phlippy on the jaw."

"He's not gonna get up from that one Steve!"

"You never know Bob, apparently this guy's got game."

"Oh well, time will tell..."

Stop... Tazer Time

2007-08-30T08:20:00.000+02:00

Ok, I need to stress that this is NOT my writing [albeit very similar] but it was too funny not to post. This has been flying aound on email for some time, but for those who haven't received it, have fun. For those who have, enjoy the re-read...

"Not too long ago, I saw something at the gun shop that sparked my interest. The occasion was our 10th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife. What I came across was a100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized tazer.

The effects of the tazer were supposed to be short lived, with no long term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety. Needless to say, this was way too cool. Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two AAA Batteries in the thing and pushed the button. fokall! I was so disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button AND pressed it against a metal surface at the same time; I'd get a blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs. Awesome!

Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to my wife what that burn spot is on the face of her LG convection oven.

Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two AAA batteries, right? Yah. There I sat in my recliner, my cat looking on intently, the trusting little soul, while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target. I must admit I thought about zapping Kitty for a fraction of a second, but thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat and, as most of you already know, hell hath no fury like a cat pissed off. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong?

So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and my Blue Bulls supporter Jersey, with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, tazer in another. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries. All the while I'm looking at this little device measuring about 5" long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference; pretty cute really and loaded with two itsy, bitsy AAA batteries thinking to myself "no flippin' way!"

What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best.

I'm sitting there alone, the cat looking on with her head tilted to one side as if to say, "don't do it, you stupid man," reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny little ole thingy couldn't hurt all that bad. I decided to give myself a one-second burst just for the heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and HOLY MOTHER OF @@@!!!!, WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION, CRAP ON A STICK, F@&$ ME GEORGE!!!!! I'm pretty sure THE BLUE BULLS TEAM ran in through the side door, picked me up, body slammed me on the carpet over and over and over again and then slammed the recliner over my head just for fun.

I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet smelling like piss, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and pins and needles in my legs. The cat was standing over me making meowing sounds I had never heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking to herself, "Do it again, do it again you stupid d00s!"

Please take this from the voice of experience - there is no such thing as a one-second burst when you zap yourself!!!!. You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor! Three second burst would be considered conservative. A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape.

My bent and forlorn reading glasses were hanging miserably on the mantel of the fireplace. How did they up get there? My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and judging by how my jaw hung listlessly, my bottom lip must have weighed 88 lbs.

By the way, at this point my testicles, feeling like they withdrew into my body somewhere around my ribcage, are still waiting for the all clear signal to emerge from the bomb shelter. Now I know how Tom Hanks' character felt when he had to go search for Private Ryan. I felt like I should offer a significant reward for their safe return. Even now, I experience shrinkage when I plug anything into the socket.

So if you ever feel compelled to "mug" yourself with a tazer to test it, take my advice! Repeat after me...here, kitty kitty...."

The End

Again, not taking credit for this ;-)

Ridin Dirty

2007-08-29T11:10:00.000+02:00

So FTT and I are riding in the car on the way back from an uber important meeting... as we do. Franks boss is driving and we're all having a chat.

Out of the blue BossGuy blurts out how ugly he feels the Toyota Camry is as there is one in front of us. FTT, joins in the fray feeling very into the conversation and adds, "OMG, have you seen that Fiat piece of shit? The Fiat Punda!"

I go quiet and shake my head. "No Frank, punda is the delicious fruit of a woman's loins in which you burry your sorry face. It's Punto you're thinking of."

"Ooooooooh, yeah! It has that ugly front with the double lights and stuff!"

"You mean the one that looks like a fat retarded duck billed platypus?"

"YES! That's the one!"

"That's the Multipla..."

"YES!"

We all go quiet in the car.

Subtle Evolution

2007-08-21T08:35:00.000+02:00

Yeah, ok, I know it has been an insanely long time since I last posted. The death threats and people saying they would put my cat in the microwave if I didn't post has finally taken it's toll and made me write again.

In fairness, this post is actually for me more than anything else.

For the first time in many years I am unbelievably happy. I have actually met someone, who truly captivates every last part of me. I get butterflies when I know I am going to see her again, and all I can do is stare into her beautiful big eyes.

It has been three months now, I entered the arena bearing my chest knowing the possiblity of hurt was huge, but it didn't matter.

I remember the first moment I laid eyes on her. My entire body went into a sweat and all my confidence drained as she glided towards me.

The only way I can describe her is elegant, sexy, beautiful, intelligent, funny, and loving.

To have someone who cares for me and make me feel so special has been sorely lacking in my life for a very very long time.

So, in closing, I would like to say this, Phlippy has a girlfriend ladies and germs.

[Cue clapping now] - Phlippy bows head smiling.

Keep posted as I am going to Sun City this week for a conference, and I know it's going to have some memories to write down ;-)

Here's signing out from a happy as proverbial pig in ***, Phlippy

Stop... Lunch Time

2007-08-16T12:58:00.000+02:00

Sitting at my desk working away, as I do, my packet of recently procured Sloane Meat Market lunch sitting idly next to me waiting to be munched feverishly... and it happens…

A strange smell I can only liken to dog food. Dry dog food smell; is emanating from my apparently glorious lunch. I lean forward to get a closer smell... **sniff **sniff

Yes, yes, it is definitely dry dog food smell.

I now remember why I do not eat the lunch food from Sloane.

Nice.

Politics and the Media: Thoughts

2007-08-08T10:08:00.000+02:00

I am a positive South African. And proud of it. People will say I am positive because I haven't been afflicted by crime, funny thing is, I have. I have had a gun pressed against my temple and watched a good friend get smacked for a watch which was worthless but sentimental to him.

Reading the press today made me think over again. Not in a way that stops me being positive, but makes me pensive.

Possibly the saddest thing is that, because we have such free press in SA [yes we do, far free'er than other countries] we hear about all the child abductions, murders, and rapings etc that happen, on a regular basis. Whereas you wouldn't ordinarily "hear" about them in other countries even though they DO happen. The propaganda influencing their [other countries] press is so irrefutable that no-one hears about it and the rest of the world blissfully thinks that these are “great places to live” – for lack of a better phrase.

I think that the awareness that we have gives us the ability to cry out and call for action. Yes, the action may not be strong enough at the moment, but it does start to bring to bear issues such as this, http://iafrica.com/news/sa/346670.htm. People crying out for the death penalty to be reinstated.

With Zuma potentially coming into power [seriously debateable topic with many people having different views based on his tribal origin and controlling influence in this country from a tribal perspective], it is absolutely no secret that he wants to control the press.

He has stated this on many occasions and already tries to control broadcasting on SABC. What would happen to South Africa if our press freedom is diminished? Interesting thought... [Not a bad or good, but WHAT, actually, will happen?]

Does it mean that there will be less of an outcry and therefore less action taken and a slow downward degradation of our fabric of society? Will things remain the same given that the outcry is primarily internal to SA? I'm sure there are so many more possible answers.

These are just thoughts running through my mind right now. I won't be able to openly debate these, but it would be interesting to read other's thoughts.

Soppy Stuffs

2007-08-02T11:38:00.001+02:00

I know this is not my usual type of entry buuuutttt... I had my iPod on shuffle last night while brushing my tooofs, willy in the wind, and jumping around. A song then came on that was really beautiful and I landed up listening to it quite a few times before passing out [at a ridiculously early hour because I'm such a girly-girl at the moment].

The song in question is Dance by Mario Frangoulis [chicks may know this, guys... maybe not so much..]. Here are the lyrics. Try give it a listen if you can find it.

I see those vulnerable eyes
They're as deep as the darkest of oceans
I sense the loneliest heart
Holding back your fragile emotions
I feel you wanna let go
Inside of my arms just know
You're safe with me, let's

Dance like there's nobody watching
Sing as if no one is listening to...What you're hearing
Love like you've never been hurt before
Try to forget if you can
And just dance

I've known the coldest of nights
Lay awake try'na stop myself dreaming
There in the emptiest space
In my head the music stopped playing
Right now all I wanna do
Is lose myself in you and me
Just be, let's

Dance like there's nobody watching
Sing as if no one is listening to...What you're hearing
Love like you've never been hurt before
Try to forget if you can
And just dance

Why don't we dance and pretend we know how to fly
Like we've never been scared of heights
No fear of falling
Love like we've never been hurt before
Forget where our feet will landAnd just dance

Aaaaaaaannnnnd... poop!

2007-07-30T09:22:00.003+02:00

My dog, is undoubtedly one of the cutest funniest creatures inhabiting planet earth today. With mannerisms that make your sides split laughing, ranging from tilted head with fake bone in hi mouth like a cigar, to sitting with his legs splayed like a spatch-cock chicken [he’s a boy dog… SIGHS].

Every Sunday night we have a tradition of “Pizza evening”. This basically entails my dad starting to make the dough from scratch in the afternoon, followed by the tomato base, and then in the evening we all pitch in [well some of us] and we make the pizzas.

Now Dino, my dog – black labby for anyone not in the know – loves to wait for scraps to drop and behaves as though he is the worlds furriest vacuum cleaner. He has his ‘kitchen place’ where he is allowed to be if we are in the kitchen, but he is up like a bolt licking the floor.

Now what kills me is that he is not aware that flour is not really a good thing to hoover up! It is on the floor, therefore it must be eaten / slurped up / inhaled / licked. What makes my dad and I laugh our asses off is when he needs to poo the next morning and has constipation from all the flour he decided was a fantastic idea to scoff.

Imagine a dog with constipation… Now imagine the funniest dog in the world with constipation… Grimacing face, left eyebrow lifted as he concentrates. Desperately wondering why it feels like he is shitting a watermelon in the icy cold breeze. The total look of satisfaction washes over him and he runs off to grab his squeaky ball.

The Long Flight Home

2007-07-20T12:10:00.000+02:00

Ok, imagine 29 hours of travelling… not the best thought. Now imagine getting only 3 hours of sleep in between all of that. Good times. So this was the long journey home…

Friday morning, the 13th, needing to check out of my hotel. Cool, no problem, think about giving myself about 10 minutes to check out and then the shuttle leaves. It apparently is very punctual and if you miss it... sorry for you. So I grab my luggage – now ten kilos heavier than when I began my fantastic trip – all sorted in such a way that I don’t get ‘owned’ by customs or Homeland Security. Cruise downstairs to the foyer, and it smacks in the face like a fish on Tuesday. The queue. Ten people deep, mostly non-English speaking people. I look at my watch, I look at the queue, I look at my watch. This was a recurring event for about ten minutes until I reached the cashier type woman who was the biggest turkey alive. Paid my money and sprinted to the shuttle.

The trip to the airport I thought I was going to die! The shuttle bus sounded as though the sump would fall out from under the vehicle at any moment. The driver careened through traffic as thought she was driving a MINI Cooper S. And… She was a total bitch.

Get to the airport being told that we will only be dropped off at one place and we to find our own way. Nice, considering the airport is as well signposted as the Antarctic has road signs. Eventually finding my ticketing area I wait… in a line… again.

Get boarding passes for all my connecting flights. Tick, next. Now I mosey on down to my boarding area. Plane delayed = boarding delayed = Phlippy irritated. Eventually on the plane, I leave Denver. Sitting in a sardine can. Please someone answer me this, “Why, dear sweet lord of all things good and pure, am I ALWAYS stuck next to an obese smelly sweaty guy?” “WHY?” My flight was excruciating, as I peered over my right shoulder, not able to move my neck properly owing to the land mass situated next to me, my eyeballs had to move more than physically allowed. I managed to catch a slight glimpse of the growing sweat patch on his underarm and had to stifle the vomit as it slowly migrated towards me. Seeking out it’s ‘clean prey and sullying all that is pure.

Added to all this nauseating activity the plane gets put in a holding pattern due to bad weather, thereby making a 3 hour flight 4 hours, and delaying me for my connecting flight.

Eventually I land in New York’s Newark Airport at 16:20 New York time, my connecting flight boards at 16:25… Needless to say I shat bricks and sprinted out of there. Not before forgetting my laptop on the plane. Turning heal and running back I milked it through the airport from one end to the other, panting and completely breathless. I arrive at the boarding gates to find them delayed as well. Hungry I decide a pizza is in order considering I ran past the food court a kilometre ago, I had to choose the closest foodstuffs. Sitting through my wallet I find the remainder of my money… 1 Dollar short of the cheapest pizza… BALLS!

So I stand, starving, disgusted at SweatMan Flight Fiesta 5 that I just partook in, and am waiting silently for my plane.

We board, fly to Paris and I milk it from one side of the terminal to the other. Now if anyone knows Roissy-Charles de Gaulle airport, it is ENORMOUS. Made up of three terminals, connected only by bus. Terminal 2 is particularly large and it took me 20 minutes to traverse from one end to the next. After being damn-near strip searched before entering into boarding area… Then the flight home… FUN

11 hours of excruciating boredom waved over me as my “entertainment terminal” decided not to work! I twiddled my thumbs and read the in flight magazine, shuffled and guffawed like a bored toddler. Then, upon wishing to recline my seat, another behemoth of a man decides to kick my seat. He was of the opinion that I was not allowed to recline my seat because it touched his knees.

So, I was travelling for a total of 29 hours. Had 3 hours of sleep. Was annoyed beyond belief. And, got home. I almost cried and wanted to kiss the ground!

Stop... Conference Time

2007-07-17T08:42:00.000+02:00

Denver is... well Denver really. Nothing amazingly special, and nothing dreary either. It's just Denver. The only good thing I got to partake in was drunken revelry at the Coyote Ugly bar there.

My entire time in the States, barring the first day which was a Sunday, was spent working during the day, and partying / dinner'ing in the evenings. There is truly very little I can write about what happened in Denver, suffice to say that Microsoft can throw one hell of a party, and that there are some SERIOUSLY funky things coming out. like for example, Microsoft Surface.

I am now back in South Africa. I will write shortly about my 29 hour flight back, but that will be when I have more time on my hands, and I am not catching up on three weeks of missed work :-(

Tonight I will be smiling though. That is all I can say, but I am a happy boy right now.

America... FUCK YEAH!

2007-07-10T00:59:00.000+02:00

Ended off Paris on a good note and felt notably refreshed. No blogs obviously because it was me time and well, I have nothing to say really. Nothing interesting was happening. The last day however, I went to the Eiffel Tower and went on the Bateaumouche. Bateaumouche is a boat type effort that takes you on a ride on the Seine river and stuffs.

On the Saturday morning I was on my way to the States… which didn’t turn out so well… here’s why…

Making my way through to the States I never thought that Homeland Security would be so tight! On terror alert Orange, I went through customs and passport control as a non-US citizen entering the country.
Phlippy: “Hi!”
Customs Dude: “Hey there sir, documents please?”
Phlippy: “Sure.” dummdeedumm
Customs Dude: “What is the purpose of your stay in the United States?”
Phlippy: “Business.”
Customs Dude: “And where is your final destination?”
Phlippy: “Denver, Colorado.”
Customs Dude: “When will you be leaving the States sir?”
Phlippy: “Thursday morning the 13th July.”
Customs Dude: “Thank you sir. Do you have Anything to declare that we should know about.”
Phlippy: “Nope. Nothing that I know of.” [Therein lied my fatal mistake]
Customs Dude: “ESCORT please!” he shouts, “Sir I’d like you to stand in the middle of the walkway there and wait for the security escort.”
Phlippy: “Sorry what?”
Customs Dude: “Just over there sir. NEXT!”
Along comes 1 x enormous security dude with big fuck off gun. Takes my papers and says, “Follow me please.”
Oh dear God almighty, WTF is happening.

I get pulled into this long hallway with interrogation rooms on my left. At the end of the hallway is a bunch of Mexicans. Holy Fuckzor. I get told sit down. Not allowed to face any officials. Am facing a wall. First Mexican gets called.

“Mr… What is this?? Apercu.. Apa… Who’s passport is this please?”
“Eeet ees me,” says an estranged Mexican in front of me.
“Come here please sir.”
Commotion carries on then I hear, “No sir DO NO do that. DO NOT touch the desk, this is my space sir, DO NOT touch my space.”

My brain is busy going ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck, I’m gonna get anally probed!
But no. I got called up and it was all smooth sailing, until she said,
“That’s ok, but you’re a good guy right?” I smiled and nodded, not realising hat she was not paying attention. 15 seconds later, “Sir you DID NOT ANSWER my question!”
Oh dear sweet lord! I responded with a resounding “Yes ma’am.”

Then onto Denver which was fun at best. As delayed in the plane for an hour because of a freak storm, and then delayed waiting for luggage for an hour and half… and then it never arrived! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHH

Eventually, after 21.5 hours of travelling I climbed onto my hotel shuttle and made my way there.

I was pomped. Didn’t sleep well because I was so stressed about my bag, yet extremely relieved about my virgin butthole.

The Meeting

2007-07-03T20:32:00.000+02:00

Rising from bed, eyes slowly open to a new day and a new era that is about to be opened. I didn't know what to expect, or what to prepare for. So I couldn't prepare. I just had to be.

Relaxing in bed I thought of everything but the day ahead, hanging onto every last moment before I knew I had to get ready.

The shower seemed to numb my senses as it drowned out the noises of the morning Paris traffic. My head hung as I let the hot water pour down the sides of my face and soap bubbles caress my chest. I exited the shower, tied the towel around my waste, and prepared my shaving kit. Shaving closely, I took time to ensure that everything about me was as best as I could make it.

Donning a new pair of Diesel jeans and a cotton shirt from Hilton Weiner Collection I finalised my look; and got ready for the walk. The walk that was to start something new for me. Another chapter opened in parrallel with all the others at the moment. Another challenge to make me stronger.

The rain outside poured down as I lowered my gaze and dropped my head under my umbrella. The soft pitter patter of the rain drowing out the thoughts in my head. Numb. Painless. Expressionless. I walked on, making left turns and rights where required. My feet seemed to guide me as best they knew. Traffic seemed to part just for me as I glided on the wings of angels to my destination. The place where my life started with my mother and father in France. The place where that part of my life ended for 23 years. The place where my life would take a new and different commencement.

As I walked down the final road, I wished that all this had never happened. That I was oblivious to it all and I could carry on my daily routine in South Africa, confident and strong.
I arrived at the front door and a young girl was getting the post from inside. I looked at her. That is my sister I told myself. I shook off the umbrella and punched in the keycode to open the first set of doors - dreading the fact I may meet her too soon. "Not now" my heart told me, "Not now."

She was leaving the foyer and held the door for me. "Merci beaucoup" I said in an infallable accent, "De rien" she replied. She started to walk up the stairs and I followed suit. I was a few feet behind her. She opened the apartment door and walked in closing it slowly behind her. I caught a glimpse of my father in passageway. He was looking eagerly to see if it was his son approaching, "Philippe?" he called as his daughter entered the door. He saw me and he smiled. The door hadn't closed yet as my hand reached forward to stop it closing and step into the room.

My father stood there. He held onto the door frame of the wall as he is not strong enough anymore to stand properly by himself for long. His withered frame moved toward me slightly, not with the grace I once knew, but staggering, stiff legged, not being able to fully control the little muscle he has left. He stopped after his first step as he knew I was coming to him. I turned to my sister and looked her in the eyes. Exploring her soul and finding only goodness, I put out my hand nervously not knowing what to do. I shook it and then pulled her towards me so I could kiss either cheek.

Turning, I went to my father. I held him, his body deteriorated and fragile, I loosened my grip slightly. Tears welled up in my heart but I did not let them escape. The time was not right. I needed to be strong for my father also, this was difficult for him.

My brother arrived from around the corner. I could tell he was confused and scared, and in a different head space. We went to sit in the lounge. Everything in slow motion as emotion blanketed us in what seemed to be an eternity.

I sat on the couch opposite my father's couch. My sister and brother each on separate single chairs. I looked across at them, so young, nervous, not knowing what to say. My father tried to spur on conversation, I spoke in French and English, and he spoke French and English back. The two siblings not really interacting. Not out of malice but out of sheer confusion.

My brother and sister left the room to begin to prepare lunch for us. I turned to my father, held his hand, and looked into his eyes. I told him he had beautiful children; and should be very proud. I tried not to cry, and he responded and I could hear that he wanted to cry too as his voice wavered, "I know" he said, "All of them." My heart sank as I knew that, in his condition, he is savouring what he can, and ensuring he does right with what he has left of his life. I felt that he meant what he said with every fibre of his being.

We sat in the kitchen to eat. My father talking with difficulty, my brother and sister always at his aid. Polite, well brought up, helpful in every way.

We sat and ate and the shock of the initial meeting was wearing off. We were enjoying each others company. After the meal my brother fetched his laptop to show funny videos on the internet that he enjoys. Hearing my father laugh was good too.

After a while we decided that we would go shopping. My father could not come unfortunately. So it was time to alone with my other siblings.

Paris: Day 1

2007-07-03T10:09:00.001+02:00

It is cold and rainy. I have one hour before I go to my father's apartment.

See ya'll on the flipside.

One Week in Nice

2007-07-01T20:23:00.001+02:00

Time now to close the Nice chapter. Tomorrow [read Monday 2nd July] I will be leaving Nice. What have I learned and gained from this city and my time on the French Riviera?

Seeing many naked boobs is not necessarily a turn on
Walking a lot does require decent shoes or you may hurt
Walking up many many stairs can develop calves [I have/had pencil calves]
Food in France is definitely better than anywhere I have ever tasted
Learning history about another city in a book is boring - on a bus tour, is interesting
Speaking the local language gets you places
Sun cream can allow for a good tan over time [you don't need to burn like an artard]
I still love Carpaccio - possibly now more than ever
It is possible to have too much ice cream [the ice cream is is completely BEYOND!!!]
Prices in Nice are pretty high
Neighbouring towns are equally, if not more, exquisite!
I miss some people SO much it scares me

There will be more, but right now I am tired and not thinking 100%.

Bring on Paris!

Day 6: Chilled and Happy

2007-06-30T10:18:00.001+02:00

A rather uninteresting day apart from the fact that a friend of mine from England came to visit me for the weekend!

Was brilliant to see her! Day was basically spent going to the airport, coming back to Nice, chilling on the beach, hurting feet on FARKIN pebbles.

OK, this ceases now to be funny in any way or form. What I have worked out is that at first your feet start bruising underneath on the soft fleshy parts and muscular areas. After a few days, your feet are now so damn bruised that you cannot walk anymore on the pebbles. I might have to go buy those foot condoms for swimming in. SIGH.

We then met up with Brodie and Jess and had dinner and laughed and talked rubbish.

Also realised that while I am in Paris, I will not be able to blog as much because I am not staying in a hotel with WiFi! I will have to find a WiFi spot close to where I will be staying and cart my laptop there every day if possible. But I will keep people posted.

Today I’m going to do touristy stuff with my friends. Good times! It is good to have company, it really is.

Photos from Gourdon etc

2007-06-30T10:08:00.000+02:00

Grandfather and grandmother with the view behind them. Pity it was overcast.

The Pre-Alps

Homes in Gourdon. Medieval at it's best.

The streets of Valbonne. You step out of the car and al you can smell is flowers. Jasmine mostly.

View from my Grandfather's place in Le Rouret.

Day 5: Beauty Beyond...

2007-06-29T10:38:00.000+02:00

Today proved to be one of the most amazing days of my trip thus far. Apart from having to deal with the use of a bus in another country, with stations that I couldn’t understand, and a bus driver that I am convinced is permanently hooked on speed and crack at the same time. This dude was taking a bus, around 70 degree bends at 70km/h… My knuckles were white as he sat there bopping to his French tunes having a fat geeegle at the crazy pale foreigner!

I went to visit my grandfather in a tiny little village called La Rouret. Not before I managed to over shoot my stop which caused me to stop at the next one and sprint back to the previous… arse!

To describe the village as tranquil, peaceful, and absolutely breathtaking will not do it justice at all. I can only describe it as Romanesque, with quaint houses spattered in and amongst the valley.

We then took a quick drive up o the restaurant where the king of Belgium enjoys eating! It is called Sans Soucis – Without Concern. We did not eat there as it is tremendously expensive. Instead we went across to Chez Babar. Had an amazing little meal, and moseyed on out o a tiny little castle village on the top of the summit called Gourdon.

This was even more breathtaking as we stood and looked out over the entire Côte D’Azur. Turning to our left we were at what is known as the Préalpes. The start of the Alps basically.

We then took a drive down the route that my grandfather used to rally drive, and look out, once again, at the beautiful scenery. From there it was another drive onto another medieval town/village called Valbonne where my grandparents wanted to buy a house.

The bus trip back was fraught with even more danger as it sounded like the engine was about to give way and leave us stranded. Thank God no. I also received a phone call from my cousin Benoit who is in Aix en Provence [yes Champers, Aix :-) ]

Dinner was once again fantastic where I dined on buffalo mozzarella caprese and another massive plate of Carpaccio accompanied by a glass of French wine. Brodie and Jess later met up with me for a drink and then off to bed.

It was a good day.

Like a complete chop I left my camera in my room so photos will follow later today or tomorrow.

Day 4: Chill Out Time.. and pics of Johannesburg snow

2007-06-28T09:18:00.000+02:00

Not much to really write home about this time. For some reason have also seemed to have lost my funny and am seemingly boring on these posts, need to rethink this on my bus trip to Le Rouret today.

Yesterday was literally spent walking to bus station, finding out times, then back to hotel, got changed, went to the beach, got uncomfortable on a bunch of pebbles [read small boulders] and tanned with copious amounts of sunblock all day.

Later went back to hotel to shower and went for a long run. Needless to say my calves are absolutely pomped today. Then showered again [yes I am a clean freak] and chatted to Mommy Saurus, Daddy Saurus, and sibling Sauri… Sauruses… Sau… oh balls who cares, for a bit.

Dinner was good, then met up with Brodie and Jess one more time. They really are a brilliant couple, and very friendly. Wihtout them I’d be sipping my pint of beer completely alone and watching re-runs of old Wimbledon matches.

Off to visit grandpa today. Will have more to write later.

Bye for now. Here are some pics from my parents house btw..

Day 3: Lost and Tanned

2007-06-27T09:26:00.000+02:00

Day 3, Tuesday, Captains Log. I don’t quite know why Commander Wharf put his shoe in my cocoa pops, and Scotty keeps beaming me up chocolate cakes! The direction of the Starship Phlippysaurus is un-faltered and we continue into uncharted territories. Hopefully we will survive what these territories bring for us. This is Captain Phlippy D Saurus, Captain of the Starship Phlippysaurus. [D is for Danger... RAWR]

Yesterday morning saw me exploring more f the north of Nice rather than the south [beach area]. Again, with iPod blaring tunes, I went in search of fame, fortune, and new running shoes. Wandering the streets I managed to find a shopping centre, various little stores, and understand now that Nice is undergoing an overhaul from a roads perspective. It must be so frustrating [imagine Gautrain construction on steroids]. I eventually found a pair of trainers at an “ok” price, so not too perturbed.

I then decided cool, let’s go find some breakfast and take a walk back. Had another pain au chocolat [have these people never heard of a large breakfast FFS!] and all I wanted was scrambled eggs bacon tomato, toast, etc. Hving said that I’d probably pay R400 for that so I’ll stick to the pain au chocolat. The coffee here is definitely worth having though.

Finishing up I went walkies again and decided that I wanted to find a fruit and veg shop to snack on fruit throughout the day. This roved difficult and eventually I landed up in what I can only imagine to be, the Nice high street of fashion. Shops like Luis Vitton, Hugo Boss, Armani, Mont Blanc etc etc etc. That was coo but I wasn’t about to set foot inside given my penchant for expensive clothing.

This is now where I started getting lost. Walking around I thought, It’s fine, I’ll just cut through here and I’ll come out over h… Nope nope, this is not what I wanted. But I now know where the bus station is – using the word ‘know’ in its loosest possible way. I then made my way past the hustle and bustle of construction and found myself immediately in Vieux Nice. Landed up very confused as it is basically a plethora of intertwining streets and alleyways in between very tall buildings. Somehow I managed to find something that seemed familiar and I honed in on it. Mass confusion settled in but I eventually found my way back.

After that fantastic bout of adventure I went o climb the mountain [sort of] and sight see. I took a walk to see Lou Castèu. It was amazing, and one can positively feel the history and culture oozing out of the place.

That was splendid, now back to the beach. Beach is a beach really and I lay there and soaked up the sun [yes I know it snowed in Jo’burg last night – and yes am somewhat jealous!] Walking back to the hotel I watched some elderly French woman lambaste a young couple tanning on the lawns, telling them how inappropriate they were and that they are exhibitionists. I had to laugh.
Later went to an English pub, Wayne’s, and had a pint during the longest happy hour I have ever seen. 12:00 until 21:00! World. Met a Canadian couple, Brody and Jess. Very cool couple and we had a good laugh.

Off home to bed coupled with a phone call to SA to here a familiar voice and then swiftly to bed.

And because I know Mommy Saurus is reading, this is a shout out to Mommy Saurus, "Love you mommy" :-)

Day 2: Swollen Ankles and Honh-honh-honh

2007-06-26T09:04:00.000+02:00

Second day has now gone past. Had the opportunity to take some photos and let my little eyes roam across the hugely expansive city that is Nice.

Imagine a city established hundreds of years ago. The old town, ‘Vieux Nice’ still present and pumping, and the new Nice burgeoning around it. The streets are clean and full of life and character, you walk down them without a care in the world, French and tourist alike. Everyone has something in common – complete relaxation because life is good.

I strap my iPod to my arm and put on the headphones, The Real Estate Agents, Famon Ngiri, starts blaring from my headphones and I feel as though I have my own private theme song. Bopping down the street you can imagine how people were looking at this strange man dancing slightly while walking, spring in my step, and a smile on my face. Surrounded by cars and Vespas, bicycles and runners, I felt like one of the folk just going about my day.

I walked the streets something special, found an internet café [where I wrote my first day post] and moved along. There are a BUTT-LOAD of Americans here. I am quite shocked actually, I was expecting less. There are a few Brits, and I have met one South African named Wes. He is in the British Army and originally from Pietermaritzburg. Nice dude, we chatted for a bit and I moved on.

The Promenade d’Anglaise is gorgeous, and after the recent Iron Man France competition, it was a hustle and bustle of busy people.

Spent most of the afternoon on the beach. Pebbled for fcuks sake! Whatever happened to good old fashioned sand? I mean really! You ever want to see a good looking girl look completely unattractive? Get her to walk on a pebbled beach. The faces one pulls can be priceless, and the ungainly way in which you are forced to walk is like you are packing a turd in your jocks that you don’t want to drop out.

After close on 12 hours of walking my ankles are starting to take a little strain. For the purposes of conserving space I thought not to take my running shoes – which I immediately regret. Tomorrow will be the search for a pair of Asics running shoes.

I ate my first meal in a restaurant tonight. I know I said I shouldn’t convert but I cannot help myself right now. Especially when your meal goes as follows [please note this was the CHEAPEST by far]:
Glass of wine – R82
Starter – R87
Main – R75
Tip – R18
Total dinner for one: R262

Here’s something to watch out for in South Africa, Coca Cola Zero! It’s Coke, with no sugar! How do they do that? That’s like masturbation… not quite the real thing, but still slightly satisfying.
Here are a few photos. I cannot tell you what they are yet as I desperately need a tour guide, but they are cool.

A proper pain-au-chocolat!

View towards Vieux Nice

Me in Nice

Awesome Sculpture in Fountain - more to follow

Sign to find my way

Photo from Promenade d'Anglaise

Day 1: Murphy's Long Arm

2007-06-25T11:40:00.000+02:00

And it starts... Writing on a fuckin French keyboard is even more frustrating than they day I had yesterday! Allow me to elaborate...

The flight to FRance was peaceful and I was sitting next to a young brother and sister travelling to meet their parents on their dads 100 foot yatch on the French Riviera... fuckers!

I arrived in Paris, immediately switching on my phone to let those that I love know that I am safe and very tired... But no. Murphy strikes. International roaming is pomped. Even though I tested it from SA before, it decides to screw me now. Good times. So the flight arrived 30 minutes early, so I decided to grab my bags, hang around, have a few cups of coffee, understand what I need to do regarding my train trip, and purchase a pay as you go contract to at least contact people. But Nooooooooo... they only open at 8, which is a few hours away.

Next Murphy decides to really take me from behind like a pack of wild horses when I try use ANY of my credit cards... My heart sinks, and poophole closes vry tightly. Frantically I use the phone rental company's landine to call my dad. Apparently Nedbank, in all their incompetent wisdom, decided to take shit offline for a bit and run diagnostics or some shit. I was then officially ready to kill something!

Left that alone, bought international calling card that seemed not to offer a service to South Africa. Frustrations piqueing at critical levels I decide to have a cup of coffee.

Do yourself a favour in Europe NEVER EVER try to convert Euros to Rands and attempt to justify. Especially when an espresso in essence would have cost me R60! One espresso, I was tempted to ask if it would clean my car too?

Onto the train, it was awesome, and the trip was very comfortable. Arrived in Nice, tired as all hell. Grabbed a taxi, and milked it to my hotel where I could shower and sleep.

Cue 12 hour sleep marathon and wondering along the promenade Anglaise and I stumble upon intenet cafe! Woohoo!

It is here that I sign off and next time prepare what Iwant to say before writing.

Okbi!

Farty and Bloated

2007-06-21T11:49:00.000+02:00

OMG I am never eating cheese again… [read similar to booze binge and hangover melodrama]

Monday night, worked on a little at the office – not the way I used to, but left a little later – and decided to just chill. No gym. No people. Just me, food, and a movie. I decided I had a hankering for cheese fondue. Usually I would make it from scratch but I was lazy. Enter Swiss Fondue mix. In my opinion the Woolies one tastes like soap and the furthest possible thing from a real fondue. The Swiss one – available at Spar – has the startings of a decent fondue. You just need to know how to spice it up right.

So I purchase an entire baguette, and walk merrily out of Spar, and into video store and rent Apocalypto [Mel Gibson’s most recent feature].

Get home and start the aforementioned fondue of doom. Now please bear in mind that this serves two comfortably and three at a push.

I managed to scoff 350grams of cheese and wine mixture accompanied by half a loaf of bread in the course of half a movie. I then sat back and proceeded to feel rather ill.

Stomach gurgling, sweat dripping slowly off my brow, my lower intestine felt like Hurricane Katrina was passing through! More wind that a tornado in a trailer park… Prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrffffpppppp. Aaaahhhh. Immediately regretting eating so much cheese. Looking down at was once a six pack, shudders, and goes to freezer as I remember that I bought chocolate ice cream recently.

This is where you slap your forehead and go, “You flippin tool! Why?” I cannot answer why… because it tastes nice I guess… Needless to say, I went to bed not being able to fall asleep, farty… and bloated… Nice…

Stop... Flight Time... Soon

2007-06-15T14:17:00.000+02:00

RIGHT! We’re ready… 1 week and 1 day before I set sail for sunnier climates, a beach, quietude, solace, studying, and good food and wine.

23rd of June I leave Johannesburg on my long journey into a world unknown, and unfortunately into fates laid out to me against my will. Sigh. Arriving in Paris on the morning of the 24th of June, I eagerly await my train ride [TGV] down to Nice which leaves just before midday.

Arriving in Nice in the evening I check into my fantastic 4 Star hotel. An evening of rest and only French-ness awaits me. [I will introduce France to the energy that is Phlippy... my Phlippyness. It's your name... with ness at the end!]

During the week that I am there; I will chill on the beach, see touristy sites / sights [both work in this instance], take photos for everyone, and hopefully blog everyday! How cool will that be?!?

I then leave Nice in the evening of the 2nd of July and land in Paris that night. I will pick up keys from my uncle to a studio apartment in Paris belonging to my grandfather… That’s right. My own apartment in Paris all to myself! AND, I don’t pay accommodation in Paris which reduces costs greatly.

During the day I will be walking the streets, catching taxis, and visiting sites. At night, I will see my family, and the toughest part, see my father and meet my brother and sister. Yes I am scared, and yes I am nervous.

I then leave Paris the morning of the 7th July and fly through to Washington DC and catch a connecting flight to Denver Colorado where I spend the next 6 days. I then leave on the 13th July en route to Newark and connect to Paris again. From Paris back to Johannesburg. Touch soil on the 15th July. Kiss and hug beautiful people [maybe cry a little].

I have a 2GB memory card in my Nikon and will use it to good effect!

How To: Eat a Grapefruit

2007-06-14T12:34:00.000+02:00

When God was developing the threshold of human pain barriers, he needed a litmus test, something to push the boundaries. So, cunningly, the grapefruit was created and used in a series of stringent and rigorous tests.

The Grapefruit: The grapefruit is a sub-tropical citrus tree grown for its fruit which was originally named the "forbidden fruit" of Barbados.[1]
Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grapefruit

Traditionally one would cut the grapefruit in half, and utilise an utensil known as a pairing knife to loosen the segments found waiting in the fleshy centre. Taking the knife with it’s curved tip, one would cut along the line of the ‘pith’ and free the juiciness [this is all going to sound racey, so behave you rascals!].

The alternative, if you are REALLY larney, is to have a special grapefruit spoon. Yes, a spoon created specifically for grapefruits. You’re know there are issues eating the fuckers when… The spoon looks very similar to a teaspoon but it has slightly serrated edges, and more of a point at the end. This “apparently” aids in retrieving segments with the minimal amount of pain possible.

Assuming either the knife or the spoon, once the segment has been loosed from it’s love pouch, it is ready for extraction

At extraction point is where one would say, “Yes please, I would love you to urinate in my eyeball.” As the soft gentle pushing down action into the fleshy fruit; causes a stream of acidic tragedy! With Special Forces like accuracy, it jettisons directly toward your eyeballs as you dorkily smile, awaiting your mouthful fruit flavoured explosion.

The juicy goodness hits your eyeball with such force you feel like you have been smashed in the face with a baseball bat, and you immediately close your eye to seal in the liquid… Clever… At this point your mouth opens, pulling a strange face as you try to pry open your left eyelid as it shuts firmly. Looking at someone in this position would remind you of Dory from “Finding Nemo” trying to speak whale. You sound like it too, or like two zombies having sex…

In the struggle to rescue your retina from your contact becoming fused to it, you have now smashed your knee against the table, and proceed to bash the table with your fist. Because it makes you feel better ok.

Eventually you can open your eye and tears are streaming down your face. People asking if you’re ok, and quietly you respond… “I’m bleeding?!?”

Now imagine all this, in a boardroom breakfast meeting…

Foot Fetish Fiesta 2007!

2007-06-14T09:39:00.000+02:00

Another Brainchild of KakFunny, is the Foot Fetish Fiesta 2007. This is going to be a competition for the "best" feet from around the world!

Go here and find out how to enter... Yes, I too will secretly enter... Remember, we'll be judging you... MWUAHHAHAHAHAHA

Oh, and the Wet Sock category... is not an invitation for you to "flap takkie" in a sock and send us the result. Thank you.

Phlippy Out

That Special Place

2007-06-13T12:14:00.000+02:00

After a fantastically successful weekend for my close friend, causing no loser complex for him at all, he decides to phone me and explain, in detail regaling the features of his weekend.

The conversation was too good not to blog. It was all in jest but the momentary humour and sheer shock value was FANTASTIC!

[Parts of the conversation have been omitted for boredom purposes]

Buddy: OMG Dude I have to tell you what happened after you left on Saturday!
Phlippy: Schweet shoot buddy
Buddy: Well … blah blah blah… blah blah blah
Phlippy: Awesome buddy
Buddy: Then we went through to Manhattans… Again! And the booze she just flowed! [Insert large string of drinks here]
Phlippy: Holy shit balls, how did you manage to stay alive?
Buddy: I know! The coolest thing was, I was on top form, dancing up a storm and whipping out all my best moves! Chicks were LOVING me boet!
Phlippy: World!
Buddy: So basically was there with this one chick who I met earlier…
Phlippy: Uhh huh
Buddy: But I chose not to do anything because of the other chick I pulled into last night and there inextricable connection through a mutual friend also present…
Phlippy: Ooooooh, better idea, well played [at this point Phlippy is munching popcorn]
Buddy: So anyway I… blah blah blah blah and blah blah yackity schmackity
Phlippy: Schweet
Buddy: … But I don’t know now. Do I go for this one or the other one?
[Cue Dr Phlippy after more conversation regarding sex and saucyness of two oppsing individuals]
Phlippy: Ok, so what you want to do is imagine girl A [Saturday night girl] on a bed, completely naked on all fours. She is looking back at you over her shoulder. Her bum is raised in the air. She is a minx, a cute gorgeous little vixen waiting to please you and you her. Now imagine Girl B, next to her, doing the same thing. Girl B is a voluptuous, sex vamp who will blow your…ahem... world… …
Buddy: Dude…
Phlippy: Yeah
Buddy: Are you touching your boy?…
Phlippy: No boet!
Buddy: I am… It is NIIIIIIICE
Phlippy: What the Fuck!
Buddy: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA – just kidding…
Phlippy: You’re pitching a tent aren’t you?
Buddy: Maybe a little...
Phlippy: Hmmmmm [mental note not to describe sex fantasy type things to friends]

The conversation ended shortly after that with me continuing to munch on popcorn and watching Kristina Loken get nekked in Bloodrayne. Good times.

Public note: No winkies were fondled in the creation of this post.

Easy Peel My Ass

2007-06-06T08:03:00.000+02:00

Why on earth do food chain stores [read Woolworths] decide to give already established fruit; new and interesting names? Would somebody please explain this retarded fixation?

I pop down to Woolworths looking for fruit to boost my immune system. Looking through the shelves I see naartjies, and next to the naartjies I see “Easy Peelers”. What the FUCK is an easy peeler? How is it different to a naartjie?

“Well Phlippy it is in fact FAR superior to a naartjie because Woolies invented the name.” [read in posh and deep voice], “It also happens to have no pips that would irritate you. We at Woolies are SO cool that we can de pip the fruit just by staring it down and mentally willing it to be de-pipped!”

“Wow Mr Woolies spokesperson, you guys must rock something special.”

“Yes Mr Saurus, we rock out with our cock out!”

So after the fantastic ad break, I buy a stupid freakin packet of these unbelievable re-named fruit. Get back to the office only to find out that these things are as easy to peel as tearing flesh from my backside!

Once I was able to pry the skin from this disastrous fruit leaving half of the pith attached, I proceeded to scoff what I had worked so hard for. Only to find a plethora of pips making their way around my oral cavity.

Come on guys! Seriously… Easy Peelers my ass

A new Baby

2007-06-04T08:03:00.000+02:00

Introducing... Kakfunny! A brainchild of the ever amusing and awesome [had to throw it in because he is feeling poo-ey] Kevin Cadman, with some help from Peas, Kyknoord, Tertia, and Rich.

This promises to be some of the funniest stuff on the blogosphere in time.

Go have a read!

Caught in the Act

2007-06-01T09:13:00.001+02:00

How many of us have ever been caught in the act? Show of hands please… thank you. Just as I thought, most of us. Now a show of hands as to how many of us have been caught flapping takkie / beating one out / applying personal love? Hmmmm, slightly less hands [excuse the pun].

Remembering back to my younger years [read 12 years old], my willy was the greatest thing that ever happened to me! As with most little boys, the fascination moves to curiosity, which leads to poking – which probably felt nice – and later to prolonged sessions thereof, or a variation thereof…

1993 was a good year for a 12 year old turning 13, specifically this 12 year old boy. No amount of MNet could have possibly prepared me for what was going to happen. My dad’s best friend, let’s call him uncle H, decided to leave the country. He was a porkly man, potentially not the most attractive man to the opposite sex, and very jovial etc. He was always jolly, and had a huge grin on his face. I was soon to understand why.

One afternoon he came round to my folks place bearing a box in his arms. It looked very heavy. He walked into my room, and he placed the box on the floor. He said to me, “Boy, these are for you. Enjoy.” And he left.

Panic stricken I moved to open the box and peer inside. Blinding light soared from the box and angelic voices beamed “Aaaaaahhhhhaaaaa-aaaa”. I could not believe my virgin eyes. Imagine, a young and horny, almost teenager, receiving over a 100 softcore porn mags! Scope and Penthouse were the order of the day. Looking down into the box [wow that sounds racy] my eyes started water and my bottom lip quivered; as a lone tear streamed slowly down my cheek. I knew then what heaven is like.

Now being new to the game *cough* I was not entirely certain as to how the ‘equipment’ was meant to be handled. It didn’t really matter, all I wanted to see was tits and ass. It was insane! For days I just looked at hot women in various degrees and stages of undress. Not for a while did I find out how to… handle myself.

I will never forget the day I was parking off in my room one afternoon, going at it like a machine! You can imagine the vein popping out of the forehead, intense concentration of a little boy attempting the unmentionable. Stress running through your body hoping you don’t get caught, thinking about things you shouldn’t be thinking about. You hear your dad walking down the passage. You stop. Waiting. He’s gone. All your hard work [excuse pun] wasted. But you’re 12/13, you have the energy of a Jack Russell on speed and crack! You’re at it again, this time completely lost in a blur of emotion. And then it happens.

“Phlippy stop wanking I can hear you breathing…” and the footsteps disappear into the distance. My world was crushed. I wanted to die the slowest death known to man.

I attempted to save face by pretending that nothing happened, and at the time was quite proud that I made an excellent save. Being an adult now, I realise there was no saving that situation.

That goes down as the second most embarrassing moment.

Trunk Space?

2007-05-31T08:49:00.000+02:00

RAWR… an evening of adventure, fun, epic happenings, and orange juice.

Work over the last few days had taken its toll on me and I was desperately in need of a break. I decided to work a half day and left at 4pm. Not too long after having hectic retail therapy by buying a new car… Fuck I’m a tonsil sometimes! “Here’s a good idea, just before you go on a European trip that will make your nose bleed, let’s just quickly buy a new car! Clever!” So I leave work and cruise back to my place to go grab the crappest clothes that still make me look huge and high tail it to the gym.

Arriving at gym I was amped to train; something special! I decided that a little bit of chest followed by bi’s and tri’s was going to do the trick. Then followed by stomach exercises that make people squirm asking, “how does he do that?” I trained my arms so hard other people had to train in the dark as my arms blotted out the light.

After a fantastic gym session I cruised through to my folks house. Now milking the Cooper S for all it is worth considering I’ll only have her for a few more days! Arriving at my folks house the dog practically wet himself with excitement as he hasn’t seen me for ages. Brother was cool and folks happy. After a serious chat with my mom around my father in Paris we sat down for a culinary masterpiece. This was followed by Wiggly arriving to take my brother to gym.

This is where the fun starts. Exit Phlippy and huge greeting of manly affection [so Brokeback]. We then marvelled over Wiggly’s car which is almost identical to the one I am getting. His is dubbed “The Mamba”, whereas mine will be “Sex Panther” – it’s made from bits of real panther, so you know it’s good! We walked around the car admiring feature differences and then we looked at the MINI and the boot. We opened Wiggly’s boot and marvelled at how much space there was.

I decide that now is a really good time to see if I can fit in the boot. Climbing in and contorting my body into some rather odd positions. Wiggly decides that is will be cool to close the boot. All went dark and I hear Wiggles’ muffled voice explaining the safety release catch inside and how proud he is of this awesome feature. Pulling the latch I exclaim that it is big enough for TWO people in there. Wiggly takes this as his cue to now climb in with me. This may seem a little absurd [only a little]. Giggling like two 13 year old boys with their first beer, we sidled up in the boot in the most awkward spooning position possible. I started cramping in my left hip and he opened up his car tool kit and asked if I need a spanner. I felt that I did, and took said spanner. He closed the boot and we hid from my brother who walked outside looking for us, thinking we had played a joke on him… good times. Now, after gym and extra protein, it could be said that my farts hospitalise small children. Thank god for Wiggly I was able to keep it in else his eyebrows would’ve been permanently removed from his face.

He left with my boet and I went upstairs to sit with the folks and watch Top Gear. Which was brilliant! Would love to go into it, but that is for another post.

Wu Shu Kow Heuh – Bear with Balls of Steal!

2007-05-28T10:21:00.000+02:00

Stealthily sneaking through the night, the lone bear spots his target. Equally porkly in nature, the target spots his attacker, fierce competition burns in their eyes and the quest for dominance surges through their bodies.

Circling each other, stomping feet wildly and grunting. Their heads dip as they run towards each other with grace and poise. Both simultaneously jumping at each other, teeth bared and caws at the ready. Their chest collide in a squishy mess as they rebound off one another and start to roll on the floor… Laughing.

Attempting to roll over and get up again, Phlippy and Frank are in hysterics as they are covered in 10cm of solid “Sumo Suit”. Phlippy roars: “I am invincible”, Francois realises that he really should have selotaped someone to his back, that would’ve made him unstoppable! Out of nowhere in a blinding flash of light Francois drops out of the sky, crushing Phlippy with all of 85kg’s. A quiet wince passes out of Phlippy’s lips as his eyeballs puff up as the air is squeezed out of him.

Starting once again at opposite ends of the ground we sprinted towards one another, launched into the air only to bounce off each other harmlessly and roll around on the grass [hoping that there was no turd in the vicinity with the family having about 7 dogs!]. Frank then decided to try the double footed flying kick routine! Good times. [You can do SO many stunts while padded beyond all natural reckoning!]

Attempting to get up, we realised what it must be like for an insanely obese person to do a sit up! We felt that the suits offered us a fantastic opportunity to flex and show how staunch we are!

Parading happily around the party in the suits as though nothing was wrong, became a very quick added feature to our repertoire of ridiculousness. Only to be scolded by the birthday girl because other people wanted a turn.

We had the time of our lives!

May we have some Boobs now Please?

2007-05-25T08:16:00.000+02:00

Last night I officially watched the worst movie to have ever graced my eyeballs. Even my eyes wanted to throw up it was so bad. Let me divulge a little.

Last night Wiggly was having some shit at work so we decided it would be cool to rock the whole, dinner vibe and smash some DVD’S in our faces. Earlier in the afternoon I had seen that a movie, based on one of our favourite fighting video games, had been released. I knew with every fibre of my being that it was going to be bad, enter stage left, my brain… “Phlippy, do not purchase this inordinate heap of shit, rather rent it you artard”… so I left it alone and decided to rent it later.

Wiggles arrived, we started laughing and chatting about various guy stuffs like Flying Camels, girls, more girls, ass, breasts, ass, and the occasional reference to work.

The time was nigh, dinner was ready and we moseyed on down to the couch to plonk our sorry asses and make with the watching. Little did I know I would be pitching half mast for an hour and 15 minutes. Do you have any idea how frustrating half mast can be? The movie started and we sat eating greedily. The movie was trying to grab your attention with some of the worst graphics as it started, which was quickly followed by some of the WORST delivered lines I have ever heard in my life. Helen Keller could have delivered them better. It was at that moment that Wiggly and I looked at each other and we knew. We had started, we had to finish.

Now this video game is renowned the globe for having the hottest video game girls in the history of the world, ever. Yes that is sad but shut up – my story damnit! So we thought that, no matter how bad the movie is, we were bound to see some flesh which generally makes B-Grade movies okay... Doesn’t it? The lead female character is meant to have enormous boobs of fantastic buoyancy and perkiness. The movie character was flat chested. We sighed as all our hopes for hotness in titty format were dashed!

Enter next character, climbing out of the sea onto a boat wearing a string bikini. I swear Wiggly came. I jumped to the left in horror, my face grimacing and eyeballs opened wide. Gripping a pillow tightly [hoping for comfort and solice] as my best friend made orgasm noises. I closed my eyes and started taking myself to my happy place. A fight scene ensued with some funnies. Enter next girl. She was in a towel and we thought that there is no ways she could put her panties on without some Basic Instinct flowing into the movie somewhere. After another round of disappointment and almost [so damn close] seeing her boobs we were getting despondent enough to slit our wrists.

All the hype basically got us to a point where we were watching the movie solely for slightest slip in camera work. We were pausing and freeze framing desperately trying to catch a glimpse of some flesh. The movie was basically the softest soft core porn you can imagine… without the pomping.

The movie basically then turned into crap fight scene after crap fight scene coming as close to on screen mud wrestling as possible. What woman fights in a bikini and skimpy top… IN THE RAIN?

The movie ended it the most awful anticlimax imaginable. Never ever rent DOA! Just to re-stress, this is not a toe curling, fart bubble creating, edge of the seat, pant wetting movie. In fact this is one that a horny 13 year old would’ve walked out of. Says a lot about me and Wiggly [damn dude]!

At least I had popcorn.

Mock Charging and All Fall Down

2007-05-20T15:56:00.000+02:00

Well Saturday saw Phlippy being happy as a pig in the proverbial shit.

After a mournful Friday afternoon, pushing through and burying some emotions away in that dark little locker in the corner of your brain, Saturday turned out to be an AWESOME day. A tad tired after little sleep on Friday night after being the surreptitious guest at a friends place until 2 in the morning, I still came out, guns blazing, for Saturday.

A quick bout of gym involving destroying what was once a chest, followed by mutilating the punching bag beyond recognition and snorting and grunting like I was Rocky on steroids. Thereafter I hurriedly made my way back to my apartment to meet a friend for lunch. The afternoon as a whole was fantastic and magical, something I wouldn’t have traded or changed for anything.

Later I went through to my buddy’s place to catch the tail end of the rugby and the flack that was to ensue for being ridiculously late. Oddly enough… no flack! Hmmmmmm. Once I had scoffed enough cow into my tiny frame to make a goat-herder go, “Wow!”, I mozied on home to change and go to the “All Fall Down” party held at my friends’ digs in the View.

I was to join Wiggly there; and invited Chews and a few others to join us. Psychedelic Funky Disco Cat Wiggly was on full form charming the ladies and making with the funnies. I sauntered through the entrance looking so hot I was on fire. Only to realise how right that analogy would be in about 15 minutes from then.

I made my rounds and the gorgeous exGranny Wrangler phoned me from London to check on how I was doing. The convo was difficult given all the noise but it was good to hear from her again. I had also spoken to über sexy Fuzzy Logic earlier that day as she was also very concerned.

Having done my rounds and met up with everyone, the fun started. Cue one times arb dude with a bottle of “something”. Now, as I was driving, I wasn’t drinking but I thought, “Fuck it, long night – one shot won’t kill…”

Twon [also known as Hobbitt or Frodo] eagerly coaxed Wiggly and I towards the dude holding the bottle, and the exponentially growing crowd congregating around him. Twon was SO excited we knew this had to be good! I smelt the shot-glass. First reaction from Phlippy, “This smells like ASS!” Wiggly promptly canned himself laughing; and the proprietor of the bottle exclaimed how it tasted much better than it smelt. Having knocked back a bit of booze in my time I have noted that this can also be true.

So I trusted the deranged son of a monkey as he poured the translucent pink tinged liquid into a shot glass for Wiggles and I each. Holding this back I stared down into the top of the glass and watched it to the viscous alcohol dance that mesmerises you. The swirl. Vivid memories of me doing this with neat Vodka and Sambuca came flooding back into my, now very soggy, filing cabinet in my brain of drinking events. With the crowd spurring us on Wiggly and I opened our mouths and smashed these shots back each within milliseconds. Obviously wanting to look like real men! [read in Russian accent].

I swear on my life I sprouted four extra chest hairs in two seconds. My eyeballs decided they needed to look at one another and have a quick chat as they did not know how to respond to what had just happened to the rest of the body. The conversation went thus:
“Fuck George did you feel that?”
“Sorry what? My retina just farted in fear, and my tear ducts malfunctioned. Careful… I might squirt.”
“No George seriously what the fuck was that, the brain is asking everyone in the body what just happened as it doesn’t register it. The arse is just giggling like a two year old again!”
“Dunno Frank guess we’re gonna have to wait and see.” [Zoom out from eyeball conversation and cue camera looking down on Phlippy and Wiggly].

Wiggly ran off to the bushes away from as many people as possible. I stood there trying to seem like I could handle shit. My sphincter slowly relaxed and my shoulders dipped softly as a dopey look appeared on my face. People were talking to me and lips started to tingle. Then my tongue started to burn, closely followed by the back of my throat. Slowly my stomach, in the middle of reading it’s daily newspaper, stopped to check what was knocking at the valves to enter. As it peered at the security camera screen it reeled back and dropped it’s newspaper. At which point I quietly let one go. The stomach locked the doors on the valve and refused to let in the daemon.

As I stood there, I turned to my left and looked at Wiggly by the bushes. He hadn’t been vomiting, I think he just wanted some ‘alone time’ to gather himself. At this point, the daemon knocking at the stomach got fucked up and started bouncing back up. My cheeks puffed up, eyeballs watered, and throat made that, “hhhrruuuummmmppppphh” sound as I quickly placed the tip of my index finger on my lips.

Now what I have learnt is that if you are going to chuck, DO NOT put one finger there as it will still come out but will spray people on your immediate left and right. Like a forked tongue vibe.

My heart sank into my poophol as my eyes malfunctioned and I gazed dizzily into the sky.

MAMPOER… with CHILLI in it. Nice guys… nice.

The rest of the party was awesome, as they always are, I went home early wanting to nurse a broken spleen and cracked rectum after “the dodgy stuff”.

Lesson learnt: Do not take alcohol from strangers!

The Pain in Finding Out

2007-05-18T15:47:00.000+02:00

There are few things in life that one wants to hear, possibly the hardest is, “Son, I am dying, and there is no way they can fix me.”

Cerebral degenration caused by the cancer he had. That is why he could not write properly to me. He did not know how to tell me because he did not want me to worry. He cannot travel anymore, writing is difficult, and he can no longer walk properly.

My world seems to be crushing me, squeezing the air from my lungs as I try to breathe and make sense of this.

My father is dying.

Stupid People

2007-05-15T08:16:00.000+02:00

Dear Mary Mother of all things Good and Pure! How on earth can some people be so insanely stupid.

Listening to the radio this morning I felt completely retarded for the people phoning in. Three stories of total and utter stupidity on a level only rivalled by the man that created Attack of the Killer Tomotoes.

OK, Story One: Gastro woman

Who in their right mind would phone a radio station to talk to one of the most listened to DJ's in South African morning radio to discuss theirs, their husband, and their child's bowel movements? Read in really crap [excuse the pun] Afrikaans come English accent, "It was great, but remember how I told you the other day about my son having gastro, well my husband got it an now I have it today..." [radio silence ensues as countless people slowly reach for their radio nob to switch stations]

Story Two: Doff Rugby woman

This woman is so unbelievably dense that she booked a plane ticket to Durban from PE, a hotel, and everything that goes with it. Then tries to buy a ticket to the rugby. Sorry WHAT? You tried to buy a ticket to one of the most anticipated rugby games in the last year AFTER buying everything else... Logic says, ensure that you have a game to go to BEFORE purchasing thousands of Rands worth of flights and accomodation. Only one word... DOOS

Story Three: Indian Hello Woman

Can you believe it was all three in a row... Anyway, this chick phones in and it is dead quiet, DJ pulls a quick yet soft, "Hello?"... silence... reply so soft it is barely audible, "Hello".
Once again silence... DJ tries again, "Hello?"... silence, "Anybody there, hello?" Tiny voice replies [read in soft Indian accent], "Hello, I just phoned to say hello."
DJ: "Ok, hello."
Woman: "Hello"
DJ: "Hi"
Woman: "Hello, ok bye..."
DJ: "OMG that was the BEST phonecall EVER!"

Phlippy goes to work content that he is not the most inbred son of a monkey out there.

On a Serious Note

2007-05-11T14:18:00.000+02:00

Relax guys I have a funny post coming on Monday or whenever [flying by the seat of my pants on this one], but I just received a mail from my father and I just want to rant a little. Not often I ever get to do this…

Background
I was born in South Africa to a French Mauritian mother and a French father. My father hails from Paris, and my mother was raised mostly in South Africa. Shortly after being born I moved back to Paris for a few years. My parents divorced and my mother moved back to South Africa with me and my father stayed in Paris. A couple of years later my mom re-married, as did my father. My father used to visit me and my step dad was very accommodating. This could not have been easy and for this I love him more than words.

At about age seven I had some stupid notion in my head [I had seen my father and his new wife kissing] that I didn’t want to see my father because I was hurt and upset. Seven years went past and I did not see or hear my father. No communication. My mom and dad were sad for me, but I made the decision [as stupid as it may have been]. I was young and didn’t know at all what I was doing.

During the time I found out that my father had sired two children with his new wife. My brother and sister. Similarly my mom had two children with my dad. My brothers are my life. I love them more than words and would kill, or die, for them.

Current
I do not however, know my brother and sister in Paris. I know of them, their ages, and their names, but no more than that. My step mother would not allow them to know that they had a brother. Yes you did read that right. They were not allowed to know that I existed, and to this day exist. My father never said, or mentioned, anything to them.

At 14 years old I went across to France to spend time with my father, my grandmother, my aunts and cousins. We went to Normandy and spent time in a small town called Wimereux. My father stayed one day and left. My brother and sister were not present.

I have seen my father on and off every year and half to two years since then. As I get older I am maturing and am more able to relate to his life in business and such things. The problem is I do not know my father.

He will arrive and spend four days with me, living with me, spending time with me in the evenings once I finish work etc. The problem is that, only on the fourth day am I really able to start relating to him, and knowing who he is. At which point my world that I create with him crumbles once again, as he leaves. Leaving behind only an empty shell of a relationship.

I love my father, you cannot break that bond in my situation, but the relationship is strained. Filtered almost through a sieve. Still my step mother seems to push me away.

Two days ago I emailed my father to let him know that I had confirmed a ticket to France and I would like to spend time with him. This time the effort coming from my side. I also said that I would like to see my grandmother again before she passes, and for two of my cousins email addresses.

I awaited a reply eagerly. A day went past and I got it, with one email address and he endeavoured to get back to me re the other one. I then asked – not quite pleading – if we could perhaps, as a family, have lunch. Myself, my sister and brother and him. I waited for a response. A day has gone past. Today I receive a mail.

It was cold and distant. It was three lines. He never mentioned lunch, or the potential of anything. He merely said “here is the other email address and said that I should have a good weekend”.

I do not know if those reading this can fathom the pain and the grief that this can cause. Knowing that you have a brother and sister you have never met, and knowing that they cannot know you. Making effort every time and being shot down. Feeling that you mean nothing to your father, even though every single little thing you have done in your life has been to gain that acceptance. Not from one father, but from two fathers!

This is one of the most difficult hurdles in my life to get over. I am staring at my father’s simple yet complex email in disbelief, despair, and distress. Sadness seems to overwhelm me when I feel I am so close, and yet so far away from him; and another side of my life.

An unopened chapter that seems to close before I can read it.

The Life of Francois

2007-05-09T11:24:00.000+02:00

Born and raised in the small town of Port Elizabeth, from an early age Francois knew that he was destined for greatness. Dreams of the big city, fame, banging chicks, and a fantastic hair-do was all Francois could think about. From an early age he knew was going to be a ladies man, he even donned specific attire to help him along his road to porn star status.

Like his friends, while growing up he was teased for his massive receding hairline and hillbilly look. This was something he knew that when he went to the big city [Jo’burg] he would be able to change,

This was it, no more small town mentality for Francois, eating stale bread and shoes, he wanted more from life, gourmet food where tomato sauce was not a prerequisite. He would go to Johannesburg!

He found work difficult though. He tried his stint in the movies with little success playing the Violator in Spawn,

This was not working out for him so he decided to go to the Hair and Rhinoplasty Clinic to sort out his facial features and hairline.

Adapting to the big city life was difficult for Francois. He had small city syndrome. With his new found ‘hotness’ it did seem easier to pull chicks though. He seemed to gravitate towards the same people as in his home town and quickly found a girlfriend; as he couldn’t stand being alone,

The relationship was good for Frank, she was a provider, and a nurturer, and he knew that no one would ever touch her with a barge pole so he was safe that she wouldn’t cheat. He was confused though, he wanted to try new things, experiment a bit and see where that took him…

With his new found resolve, and eager attitude toward sexuality, he met someone. He had to break things off with Janice, it was hard but he coped, she didn’t and went to join the circus. Soon Frank and Jorge fell in love. Jorge and Frank were the perfect couple so in love that nothing to tear them apart…

or so it seemed…

After many arguments about the size of Frank’s car, Frank went on a bender. Trying to find his sexuality,and experimenting, he also started binge eating. Enough was never enough! His work was going well but the sad story was his weight. Jorge couldn’t handle Frank’s growing obesity. Frank was replacing his love with food and Jorge left him.

Still binging Frank realised that he needed to fix this. He had aspirations of becoming a Superhero! He started working out and made himself a costume, slaving day and night to perfect his Spidermanning skills,

soon he was ready to face the public. They loved him. He had found his groove until the day he was caught with the mayor of the city’s wife,

Bouncing back he decided that a desk job was perhaps the best. Keep out of trouble, lay low and work hard. He joined Phlippy at a prominent IT company and the two soon became good friends. Going out clubbing together and having a great time.

He work hard play hard attitude really impressed the directors who quickly promoted him to min-project manager. But he was not allowed the sugar coated doughnuts. This boost to stardom saw him travelling around the world and Africa exerting his authority in regions where people are stupid didn’t know any better. This helped him to grow as a person.

Coming back with renewed vigour from each of his trips he was once again promoted to slightly-less-mini-project manager. He knew he was going up in the world, he knew he was destined for greatness alongside the likes of Phlippy, he knew that…

Story by PhlippySaurus

Pictures by L33tness Cawood

The Life of Phlippy

2007-05-08T09:47:00.000+02:00

Phlippy started out on the streets of Johannesburg with nothing to his name. He was a quiet fellow, but dignified. An optimist by nature, Phlippy never let anything get him down. He held his head up high, through the bad times and the worse. You could say he was a Juggernaut Bitch.

The streets were tough, much tougher than Phlippy had thought. He made a pittance begging, the homeless man he was, and lived off table scraps and tables.

However, his passion was in Information Technology. Phlippy would spend hours reading about computers and mice, hoping to find a temporary job as a computer programmer, but his efforts earned him nothing. Nobody hired him. “I never thought that it would be so tough,” says Phlippy, overlooking his Cape beach cottage, “I was truly saddened.”

Phlippy's saving grace came when he met Billy-Bob. BB was the ideal partner - he had brains, brawn and a passion for big business in the city. Billy-Bob was a gentleman, a romantic and a great teacher. It was through him that Phlippy had learned to love, nurture and care for himself, as well as others.

Within time, Phlippy had realised his full potential. Rapidly he begun building his career, and after trying out as a bodybuilder and later, a house-builder, he decided to try his hand in IT once more.

He managed to find a job in a well-known development company, but found that he could not keep up with the changing pace of technology. Ultimately his career as an HTML Programmer ended as quickly as it had started.

But there was a fire inside Phlippy – a flame which, as his bosses soon realised, could not be extinguished. Phlippy persisted and eventually, with a renewed sense of self, moved into the world of IT Sales, closing deals and making contacts.

He impressed his directors immediately and was eventually able to maintain a steady inflow of DVD’s, X-Boxes and chicken pies.

His success led to a wealth of friends,

money,

and the eventual succession to the top of his company, where he remains today, a person looked upon for guidance, morals and pant wettingly funny videos.

This is the story of one man and his mission.

This is the story of Phlippy.

Dr Marcus Spotted

2007-05-04T09:46:00.000+02:00

I recently went on a little excursion down to Cape Town. Whilst walking along the beach; I saw him, the prodigal son, the man who invented the Parktown Prawn! Dr Marcus of 1000BrownMnMs fame. I hunched down quietly to watch him in his natural habitat [also outside of his cage - obviously Urk and GTi's let him out for the day].

Obviously knowing his habits; I knew he was preparing for a new post. I decide to snap a quick pic of his preparation...

Stop, blogger time

2007-05-03T08:42:00.000+02:00

Just realised what an arb title that is for a post [had to change the name of the title as I just found out by some freak of nature Kyk and I seemed to post almost EXACTLY the same title: previously Posting is such Sweet Sorrow - sorry Kyk]… The reason for the title is basically this:

… No I am not stopping blogging! Silly people.

The frequency with which I post is getting a bit much and my content is not exactly what it has been in the past. I want to continue to write stories like Parktown Prawns and the Rise of the Dead, Airplane Incident, Friday Night Twilight Zone, and Yoga and the Art of Pretzel. I can only do this when inspired and not “forced” [self induced] into writing every day.

Posting for the sake of posting [for me] is not conducive to what I wanted to achieve, and therefore will only be posting a few times a week, or whenever something grabs me by the balls and makes me squeal.

It is likely that I might post more than once a day depending on what is flying through my tiny little brain at the time, but keep checking as there will be more content to come, and it will be the quality crap you have come to love me for.

I will continue to answer comments and have a bout of mental jousting online, remember though, winning an argument on the internet is like winning a race at the Special Olympics. You may have one, but you’re still retarded. [And I can say that as my uncle is retarded – so no snotty comments please]

Catch you on the phlipside

Back to School and Granny Wrangling

2007-05-02T09:00:00.000+02:00

OK, the long weekend is finished and now it is time to slog hard at work again. Multiple groans the world over and someone sips on their coffee making slurpy noises while reading this.

Quick review of me being a total rubbish this weekend and also the highlights.

Thursday night, for those not in the know, I had a dinner with a bunch of ladies from Yoga. Being the only guy, I was in my element and was given an awesome opportunity to get to know the woman who has so fiercely captured my attention. Once dinner was over and I had learnt so much about her without even scratching on the surface, I went out with her and her younger sister to F-TV café in Sandton. Not my favourite venue, but that night it became the best place ever! Spent ages dancing and chatting to her, but the vibe was one where I could feel that she was uncomfortable taking it any further as she is my instructor. We’ll see, maybe it is not meant to be.

Friday night involved a quiet night out with Wiggly for a post-gym drink. This turned into us flying by the seat of our pants and landing up at Billy the Bums until 2 in the morning. Good times.

Saturday night saw me going to the Passion Palace [friend's digs dubbed Passion Palace as there are 4 girls and one guy] for a party. Now the Passion Palace is synonymous with fantastic parties, this was not the case on Saturday. Instead it turned into one of the best chilled evenings I’ve had in a long time; where I was introduced to a fantastic card game called Kings and Arseholes. Later that night [at about 1 in the morning] we decided to pull through to the Colony Arms where I bumped into Champers and we had a jolly good time.

Sunday was spent recovering from three nights out and a total lack of gyming.

Monday turned into dinner with the folks, moving into drinks at News Café Sandton, and then [at about midnight] went to 88 Lounge in Norwood. OMG 88 was awesome. They had bongo drums and live percussionists blasting it out and created some of the best eclectic mixes I have heard, or danced to, in ages!

My mojo was flying and I felt like I was indestructible and happy as a pig in proverbial shit. I took it easy though knowing that I was going to meet a friend on Tuesday which turned out to be a fantastic rendezvous.

Tuesday pulled around, I went to gym to work on my stud-like body… //crickets… Thereafter went to pick up the Granny Wrangler from the airport where she had been dropped off by friends. I took her out for an afternoon in Johannesburg. Meeting her was awesome. She is so full of life, bubbly and effervescent. We immediately started chatting as though we were long lost friends who hadn’t seen each other in ages. We went for lunch, her not remembering “exactly” what her flight time was, needed to check in order for us to know how long we had to sit and sun ourselves while sipping wine. We sat at a restaurant overlooking Sandton. She ordered a pizza with more garlic and chilli than I could imagine, my left eyebrow fell off when it arrived, we laughed. Conversation lasted for ages and we never got tired. Eventually it was time to be off and drop her back at the airport. I graciously obliged.

It is fantastic finally meeting someone that you have built a friendship with over time on the web. It sounds seriously odd given that it is so removed from the norm, but altogether very natural. It was a pleasure to meet such an amazing woman. Thank you GW.

How To: Log a Support Call

2007-04-26T10:26:00.000+02:00

Quite possibly one of the most irritating things in the world is when you are sitting and doing work, you need to urgently print a document and the printer drivers tunes you, “Nought bru, go fcuk yourself.”

You swear back at it politely as sweat starts to bead off your brow and the single vein starts to pop out as you turn redder and redder. You click print again under different settings in the vein hope that, “This time it’ll work… this time.” But no, it tells you, “Sorry, you are an artard and need to be punished. Please contact your network admin for said punishment.”

At this point it is ok to log a support call. Note: do not get sarcastic with someone who has to fix your problems.

So I log onto our support extranet and log a call…

Now when this lands in your IT admin’s inbox, and he is dealing with tons o’ sheeeit, his first thought would be to reply, “PEBKAC” [Problem Exists Between Keyboard and Chair]. Also, always assume that more people than you are receiving a similar error. This heightens the importance of the call substantially.

Sometimes sending him/her a box of chocolates and flowers might help speed up the process as well. However this can be misconstrued and turn into something nasty.

One should also try and provide screenshots where applicable. Photos of your holiday in Plet and / or porn are not advised.

How To: Study

2007-04-25T08:45:00.000+02:00

In light of the fact that my studying abilities border on being able to open a book and then go play XBox, I thought it would be a good idea to post a How To ® on studying.

Studying is one of the oldest forms of torture known to man. It started in the early BC’s, and is loosely translated into, “I fart in your mouth”. This is because it leaves a solid taste in your mouth that somehow finds it's way there and you don't want it to happen again. Scholars maintain that it was never invented but rather spontaneously happened. The mystery of studying is lost to many people, but a few find it’s inner workings and master it.

When approaching “study time” it is important to ensure that the necessary instruments are made available to you. These being:

> Coffee;
> Massive array of different coloured pens… arranged neatly on your desk [three or four times];
> Carrot;
> Lucky Charm;
> Music [maybe];
> Writing pad;
> ...and of course your material that requires studying.

When studying it is important that there are no distractions. [Phlippy looks longingly at his XBox] As we all know, when one studies, just about anything becomes a distraction and therefore the previously mentioned point is nigh on impossible. The worst is when you are a young male. Removing distractions in your house is one thing, but a male cannot remove his penis. This is the ultimate distraction… and the ultimate test. Some women have a similar problem, distractions by their fnu [thank you Fuzzy for such a brilliant word], but this not a case that is often recorded and therefore we cannot use this as an actual fact.

Sitting down one needs to prepare for studying. The psyching up process is immense as this is no small feet and requires that you unlock that small part of you that you find devastating and difficult to control. Take one minute to familiarise yourself with your surroundings. Know where you are. Know what it is that you need to do. Please do not get distracted by the lint ball on your carpet that shouldn’t be there. Focus damnit.

Open your text book to the allotted page. Sip your coffee, put down the cup, immediately lift it again and sip as you have not had enough yet. Choose a pen. Generally blue works, save the fancy colours for special notes. You know that ten minutes into studying you’ll be using all the colours anyway because it makes things seem more interesting.

Strain your eyes and cup the sides of your head [the temples] in your hands and pull back the skin on your face so that you get that depressed constipation look. This helps for focus. Now read. Read a little, comprehend what is going on in the tiny mind of the other person, and then write down what you think he/she said. Now you are ready to study, from here on in you are on your own.

Summer Lovin, Havin a Blast!

2007-04-24T09:40:00.001+02:00

OK, ok, I am now officially excited! I have been given go ahead for my holiday in July. But wait, there is more…

In the first two weeks of July I will be staying in the south of France, first in Nice, jumping across then to Monaco for a bit. I will stay with my grandfather for a little as he is getting older now and I miss spending time with him. Then a little further down the French coastline to Cannes. Here I will be furthering my understand of the carnal fruits of France, lazing on the beach, tanning, and partying. All this in between completely relaxing with no cell phone or connection to SA.

Once my stay is up there I will travel down to Marseille, stopping places along the way and seeing what takes my fancy and maybe stay there for a night or so [flying by the seat of my pants].

What makes this even better, “HOW?” you might be asking, is that for the first time in the four years I have been at my company, I have been asked if I would like to make the overseas trip this year to the States in stead of my MD. This is for a conference… Let me think… “OK!”

So at the tail end of my two week holiday [thank you MD! I could kiss you – in a manly thank you kind of way of course] I will be jetting it to America for another week for a conference with hundreds of other people from around the world. Gala dinners, parties, crazy times! And then come back to a slightly colder climate in my BEAUTIFUL South Africa.

Anybody want photos? LoL

Camel Hoofing

2007-04-23T08:06:00.000+02:00

Weekends away in a colder climate are there for one to recharge their batteries, get in touch with yourself and immerse yourself in blankets and a good book. Getting away from the rush of the city life and chilling a little to ensure that the next week is calm and that your mind is quieted.

Not so much…

Arrive Phlippy and close friend [same one who was instigated in the HGW episode]. We leave Jo’burg on a road trip to meet up with the folks and brother in Millstream [a small fishing sanctuary / resort 3km’s before Dullstroom]. The trip was good, drove fast every now and again for fun and drove sedately when feeling responsible.

We arrived Friday evening and we had no idea it was going as downhill as it did that night… Cue fade out.

Upon arrival we plonk down our bags in our rooms and mosey straight back on downstairs. We were then greeted by a glass of wine and hearty conversation with my mom, dad, brother, and his girlfriend. Very quickly the even deteriorated into one where – as my mom had been reading the University of Pretoria RAG mag – camel toes.

At least you know they come in "cougar"...

How does dinner time conversation turn to camel toes and then my mom completely cocking it up and calling it a camel foot? To which my father could not pass up the opportunity and piped, “Well you are getting older dear.” This had my friend, brother and me in absolute stitches where we literally were rolling on the floor laughing.

It just degenerated from there. We took my moms home made Mauritian chilli [Mazavaroo] and laced her cigarette filters with the oil. Wacthing her light up and smoke and pull away at the fact that her lips were on fire was more than we could handle. My brother and I were laughing so hard that tears were streaming down our faces and snot was flying everywhere.

All in all the weekend was pretty cool, I caught fish [and released as I don’t eat them], taught my buddy how to fly fish, and slept a lot in between tom foolery.

Good times.

Herbal Enhancements… for Sex

2007-04-20T08:12:00.000+02:00

I don’t know if any of my readers has ever partaken in a wonderful ‘herbal enhancement’ called Horny Goat Weed? For those of you that haven’t I’d like to shed some light on what this, in fact, does to you.

Horny Goat Weed is meant to enhance your sexual pleeeaasuuure, not make you a raving drooling madman with a chubby at a Glynn Williams concert, in a crowd full of nuns [or like Lord Wiggly and I on a Saturday night]. So, in order to alight you to the wonders of this miracle drug [not really], I will need to recount a story from a few years back… {cue blurry sequence and 80’s music}.

So there I was, recently single after a two year relationship, broken, tired, eyes swollen from crying like a little baby for weeks on end, and my one very close friend is leaving for Australia for a year. So he decides that he wants to go to a strip club with all his mates to see him off [that sounds kinda racey... eewwww]. Knowing my distaste for strip clubs, B and I decide that Horny Goat Weed would definitely sort that out, having never used it before and not knowing the effects.

So we read the bottle and it says “Do not exceed three tablets in one day”. So we look at each other and pop three in our mouths and grin stupidly. This was not a good idea. It then says to wait 90 minutes for the effects to take place.

We pull through to The Lounge at about 19:00 in the evening so we can take advantage of the lower entrytariffs. Get inside, and we have been afforded two free drinks and a meal. [I don’t know who really trusts those kitchens but ANYWAY…] We start pinting away and eating food. There were 7 of us in total that evening.

We had everything from Lesbian Table Dances to normal table dances to some of my buddies going off and having lap dances. This did nothing for me. I was so bleak over my ex that the guys organised a lesbian table dance for us and my buddy tried to bite the one chicks bum he was so pissed. One times large Nigerian bouncer almost killed him… with his eyeballs!

Anyway, throughout the evening nothing “happened”, no arousal. At about 3:30 that morning we left the place and all went our separate ways.

The next morning, upon waking up, I thought to myself, I didn’t go camping did I? I was pitching the biggest tent I had ever in my life! Now what was amazing is that my wanger became like a Punch Me Doll. It just would not go down. On top of this, when a guy wakes up he can generally walk around with his boy at attention, make coffee, knock a few items off the shelves, play sword fight, make the “woosh woosh” Star Wars Lightsaber noise while being very impressed with his manliness, and just generally carry on. No. Not after Horny Goat Weed! HGW [hey that’s kinda funny… GW… anyway] dictates that you MUST ‘thrap’ as hard as you can, RIGHT NOW. There is nothing else that you can do until you get it out of your system.

So you go at it like a horned up bull in a cow pen, grunting and squinting and pulling screwed up faces. Bed springs going 'boing' as a few of them break. Bed covers flying everywhere. Sweat dripping off your forehead. Never a pretty sight [women are far sexier in the act]. Only then can you relax and move forward with your day.

The thing about HGW is it is meant to enhance the pleasure during the act of ‘dual congress’ not make you feel like you want to bang a kitchen sink.

A while later I tried it again with a girlfriend of mine. Let’s just put it down as the kinkiest, sexiest night of my entire life…

Thoughts on the Blogosphere

2007-04-19T07:33:00.000+02:00

Why do we write? Why do we read?

We know that blogging has been around for years, yet only recently in our country - South Africa - has significant notice been paid. It has taken a while for this notice. Recognition has been given in the past, but now, things seem a little different. Someone has taken a poker and stoked the fire a little.

Someone spoke to me a while back and said that, “Blogging defines social networking.” I’d like to unpack that along with some other questions.

Few people know that blogging was already prolific in private organisations as a performance measurement tool upon which bonuses were being paid etc. It is a way in which people, first and foremost, can share information in their head with others. The idea, for companies, stems from an ability to reduce the “red bus syndrome” that would plague them should a particular person leave their organisation. Their intellectual property, and subsequently the IP of the company, is now stored in a timeless vessel known as “online”. Not for a moment am I saying that organisations invented or brought blogging to where it is today, this is an observation and interesting piece.

Social Networking

Social networking can be thought of as the way in which humans will interact with one another, and come together, in a group environment. That ‘group’ is one that the person can choose to be part of; or not. What I find interesting is that by its very nature, social networking should bring more and more people together who may previously not have done so. This is where the idea of virtual vs reality in socialising comes in. The question then gets asked, for some, how healthy is blogging?

In essence we are always dealing with people. When we understand the nature of the people we can further unpack the idea of, why.

Why do we write?

Why are people blogging at the moment? Culture, I feel, plays an enormous role in the Blogosphere. The cultures stem from the people that almost ‘inhabit’ a particular “blog service provider”. For example, Live Spaces or Blogger, or MySpace brings in one type of culture, and then within that it’s own subcultures. [I believe that Wordpress, iBlog and Blogger are very closely inter-related]. The sub-cultures are based not only on country, but furthermore on content. If we look at South Africa and our burgeoning culture, we can see that the subcultures can be broken down into categories. People that follow, or even subscribe to, certain mantras of thought gravitate towards certain bloggers. In eastern Europe there are less subcultures and one larger overall culture. This doesn’t speak to blogging maturity but rather blogging differences in what we, and the public feel we need. This brings us to instantiate the question of why they read? But not before answering why we write.

I believe that the why is closely dependant on the category in which you are writing.

Academic and Business

[Not linked necessarily] Some bloggers like to have an academic wank fest, spurring on debate and becoming almost ‘forum like’ on specific topics pertaining to their chosen industry, and / or profession. Others will write on their profession and provide a ‘service’ to the community where they feel that they are adding value to those in a similar field. Those who write about their lives is far deeper than what most people may expect or at least have not given thought to yet because they actually do not care. I do care.

I had a friend who’s best friend was blogging all her issues on Live Journal a few years back. She sought advice and aid from those people whom she did not know in order to find resolutions to her problems [which were substantial]. When we look at this on a high level we say, “So what?” This person had serious psychological issues through traumatic experiences and strange ways of thinking. She was receiving advice from people who are completely anonymous and oblivious to softer underlying issues. Whether or not she chose to act on the advice given, the mindset has already changed through reading responses. Is this potential dangerous? Maybe and maybe not?

Life

Some write a log of what is happening in their lives. So often people feel the need to express themselves and share experiences. What better medium than one that offers the entire world as your audience? You are writing your own movie script, your own book and you have readers. Does this eventually speak to ego however? It often does I feel. One starts to want to increase their readership. People want more, it is human nature to want to get to a point where we are comfortable. A point where we can say, “I have achieved!”. Given the fact that it is the internet, and anonymity is potentially king, we have an equal playing field. No bullies. No one better than you. No one faster than you. You now need to run with it.

News and politics

I had a discussion with my Managing Director on this topic the other day. Unbeknownst to me at the beginning of the conversation, the media in many first world countries is sanctioned and tightly governed, and South Africa has one of the greatest freedom of press rights in the world. I then brought across, so then political and news bloggers are actually going to tear down the fabric that governments have so eloquently weaved over time. As thousands and thousands of bloggers emerge with their own account of what is happening, with no current laws to govern what is said or not said, truth can finally be told.

That, in essence, is what a blogger wants to get to. Their own truth, a way of communicating, a way feeding their soul, a way of saying this is me. I am me. I am independent and I have a right to say what I choose.

With that in mind we can then start to understand why various people – the public or non-bloggers – tend to read what is served to them.

Why do we read?

What is most interesting to me is why people read life blogs? My blog could be considered a mixture; but it is no way a true life blog even though I post almost every single day. No, a life blog is one where someone will recount the daily happenings of their life for others to share. Now why exactly do others want to share in this? Possibly for the same reason that people watch soap operas. It adds an element of excitement to a life that is potentially mundane. It adds an element of association with someone else who has experiences the same as you. Subconsciously it validates that you are, in fact, ok. This, if you look at it is also why reality television became so prominent. The association with another person’s life or “real” things if you like.

Doesn’t this speak to psychology more than it does sociology though? So does blogging still “define” social networking when roughly 75% of people who read blogs, do not comment or ever take a chance to get to know the ‘real’ person behind what is being written. How then does that “define” social networking when 75% of those people ‘affected’ by bloggers and the value that they add never actually network?

The social networking tends to happen only between the elite groups. I’m talking in the region of a few hundred people tops. I may be wrong, this is my impression. What this defines is the ability for people to interact in a way that is more fluid and vast than ever before, but in smaller groups. Facebook – which by virtue of the definition is not a true blog – in my opinion defines social networking. Yes there are blog meets, but when ever did a blogger organise a bunch of people who have NEVER met before [even online] to congregate in Sandton Square and have a pillow fight? That is social networking. The ability to create and join groups that suit your interest rather than reading something that piques your interest. Subtle difference.

So what do readers want? Well I guess, given that they are now spoilt for choice, they can get what ever they want really. The problem in the past has been in finding it. Arrive the likes of AMATOMU. A blog aggregator designed – in my belief – to further the readership of bloggers out there, not just a chosen few, and give the general public the ability to CHOOSE what might be good, rather than be pushed to what everyone else is reading. This then leads to quality vs popularity.

I read a book roughly this time last year by a blogger under the name Belle de Jour, The Intimate Confessions of a London Call Girl. I was interested considering I was doing the same, and therefore read it. What I gleaned from the experience is that you honestly do not need to be a talented writer anymore to publish a book. Yes it must have been edited for her, and I found the read fascinating, but the writing was not award worthy by any stretch of the imagination. What it did; was bring people into another person’s world. This is what our bloggers in SA are doing today as well. We bring you into our worlds and show you things that you may, or may not, know happened or existed. You can laugh with us, share our burdens, cry with us, empathise, and be disgusted at us.

What we and the web offer is anonymity. For the first time in most peoples’ realisation they can put forward their opinion on someone’s writing and thoughts; without ANY form of repercussion. You are untouchable and can be as vindictive as you might like. What does this lead to from the perspective of how people will then behave with others? [This thought is brought about by children who spend their lives on computers rather than playing and ‘being kids’.]

There is far more to this but I feel that this is where I should stop.

Conclusion

In conclusion, the Blogosphere itself is a fantastic medium for people to share ideas that previously would never have been possible. We tap into a greater subconscious and speak to what is needed.
It brings people to stardom where they may never have achieved this.

In many instances it enhances social networking 100 fold, even 1000 fold, in the adult world yet I do not feel it is at a point where it can be deemed to ‘define’ social networking. There are better mediums that are available to illustrate that point.

I know that this post may elicit a certain amount of intellectual debate and comment. Unfortunately I will not be able to answer lengthy debate type questions during the day as work takes priority. I will do my best to respond in time.

Girls go read this

2007-04-18T12:01:00.000+02:00

http://pmscbs.blogspot.com/2007/04/here-comes-bride.html

This one piece in particular is quite lovely.

Hi, Sorry I'm Late

2007-04-18T10:29:00.001+02:00

hyI honestly think that God is smiling down on me. Truly I do. Let me explain.

When I was younger and living at home, I had the remarkable ability [as I’m sure many of you pout there have had] to sleep through just about anything. The house alarm would go off and you would still be sleeping like a baby?

This all changed when I left home and became ‘independent’… Oooooohhhh. Now, over the last week I have not been able to sleep. I think I have pin-pointed why, but only time will tell. Last night I decided to hit the sack early, I was too tired to gym [so you know something is up] and had a chilled evening and was in bed reading work documents by half seven so that I could get about 10h 46mins of sleep… well at least that was what my phone told me when I set my alarm.

It took me ages to sleep, even after reading the book I was reading to try put me to sleep further. I wrote thoughts down that were in my head and keeping me awake. I even meditated to calm my breathing and heart rate. E-ven-tually I fall asleep and manufacture the zzzzzzz.

Dreams are vivid and splendid and include some really really hot girl I know so I am all peaches and cream.

Waking up slowly this morning I tap my phone to switch it on because obviously the alarm hasn’t gone off and I want to see the time. Phone switches on as I look at my watch. 09:15… Heart does a double take… Look at my phone thinking there is something wrong with my watch. Oh Fuuuuuuuuuuccccckkkkkk! I have a meeting at 09:00! I spring out of bed while I here the message alert on my phone sending them through at a rate of knots.

Now imagine this dude, throwing his covers off his naked body, mind in complete panic [thanking God he thought about what he was going to wear last night already] springing out of bed like a kangaroo on steroids with more conviction than a heroin addict looking for their next fix. Scream into the shower and wash faster than a bunny having sex. Get out. Shave my face [in patches as I am doing some new and exciting things with my facial hair]. Spray on deodorant. Gel hair. Sprint to walk in cupboard. Grab trousers from one of my suits. Underwear. Socks. Shirt is in the other room after being washed. My eyes at this point are screaming, “Holy shit holy shit holy shit!” While my mouth is saying nothing. I brush my teeth. Find my jersey. Grab work from last night. And am out the door and in my car in exactly 8 minutes. I now take the time to listen to my messages.

“Hi Phlippysaurus, it’s Spongebob from THEBIGCOMPANY, sorry for the call late at night but I need to move our meeting. Please call me first thing in the morning to re-arrange? You can reach me on…” At this point I die a little inside. Getting that soft wet eyed, big puppy, about to cry bottom lip quiver thing going.

The dude in the TT next to me started turning slowly while his eyes were fixed on me, and locked his doors as though I couldn’t see it. His head then turned slowly to face the front with his eyes staying behind to make sure I wasn’t going to do anything crazy….

I have an almost perfect record of being on time and am exceptionally punctual. Needless to say I was very calm on the phone when speaking to THEBIGCOMPANY this morning.

How To: Throw Name

2007-04-17T07:44:00.000+02:00

Wow, I don’t think that I have EVER thrown name quite as hard as I did on Saturday night, I changed the phrase to, “I’m never drinking again… in public.”

In honour of my complete and total inebriation and the fact that I made a bigger arse of myself than J Lo’s rear end, I dedicate this post to teaching people who thought they knew what throwing was. [Phlippy hopes for mad comments on how others threw name worse than this… if possible]

The rules of engagement in throwing name are as follows:

> One must imbibe a level of alcohol tat is way beyond their tolerance levels.
> One must uphold the laws of behaving like a doos.
> … well that’s it. And this is how..

Clothing

At this point of inebriation you have what can only be described as the lazy-neck, loose jaw syndrome, accompanied with sleepy ‘wanna-go-beddy-bye’ eyes. This is when your head bobs around on your neck in a rather rag doll type way. When someone calls you, you need to ‘swing’ your face into view as your jaw slowly catches up.

It is mandatory to don the apparel or clothing belonging to the opposite sex… while in the club.

When in the company of ladies and you are in fact a man, and when your best friend is wearing one of the aforementioned ladies shoes, you MUST put both on, in the middle of the club, and attempt to walk around on them.

This is both sexy and cool.

Loud Noises

Being noticed when throwing name is key. In order to do this one needs to be heard, or seen, over and above everyone else, and over the drone of the music in the club. We have dealt with how to be seen, now we need to deal with how to be heard.

After guzzling down numerous numbers of fizzy alcohol, one develops a reaction known as the ‘burp’. The objective is to make said ‘burp’ as loud, and as guttural as physically possible, one that would scare a school child or panda bear.

To put this into context, one should ensure that the quality of the burp is such that the girls three tables away turn their heads and scream, “WTF?!?!!?”

This is both provocative and sensual.

Nakedness

This is the clencher. We have dealt with being seen, we have dealt with being heard, but a true master knows how to do both at once!

To make this short and sweet, when your friends start talking about the movie of the moment, you are obliged to illustrate everyone’s favourite part of the movie as though you are the lead actor himself.

When your best friend mentions Sparta, and then says, "Phlippy does it so well", this would be your cue.

At this point what you do in the middle of the club is; rip your shirt open and scream at the top of your lungs [remember we want to be heard now]… “THIS IS SPARTA!” [don’t know when this is going to get old… but I’m thinking sometime soon] and kick blindly into the air as though there is a Persian messenger in front of you.

This will bring you infamy and a lifetime of stories.

I am never drinking – in public – again.

Stop... Sauna Time

2007-04-16T07:42:00.000+02:00

I was going to blog about something COMPLETELY different but when this happened I had to share it with the world. The other one will still come though, but more preparation is needed. LoL

So Friday afternoon after work I decide to cruise through to gym. My MINI being put through it’s paces, the hustle and bustle of Jo’burg traffic spilling over into my psyche and affecting me more and more, until I need to go “Pump Iron” [read in Arnie voice].

I get to gym, I blast chest and abs [of course abs…] and mosey on down to the rather luxurious facilities that Melrose Arch Virgin Active tends to offer. Perfectly maintained saunas [of which one has a television set inside!] Relaxation area. Separate shower cubicles. Massive steam room. Fresh fruit on tap and as many towels as you might need. The thing about Melrose Arch is that with the luxury, it becomes far more attractive to homosexual men. This is why it is dubbed, the “Pink Gym”. Sigh.

I decided that a sauna was quite a cool idea as I needed to relax further. I open the door [to the one without the TV] and walk inside. Immediately throwing on more water to heat the place up. I sit. There were to other dudes in there too. The one guy my buddies and I joke about. We call him Computicket because he loves to watch boys going past. He is a freak. Married to a woman, has a strange little moustache, and watches men walk past him while he lounges in the Jacuzzi. Fruit bag. I decided I was uncomfortable being in Computicket’s presence so I leave and get into the Steam room.

I sit down, there is one other dude in there. I sit, minding my own business as the sweat pours down the crack of my ass like Niagara Falls. After a while this tallish, late 40’s, gentleman with greying hair and a goatee walks in. He immediately eyes me out. This in its own is uncomfortable. You know the kind of gay guy eyeing out where the dude purses his lips and does the “Mmmhmm…” and nods to himself? Yeah. Fun. But I knew the guy [well had met him once at the pool where I had to share a lane with him], am very polite, and am completely comfortable in my own sexuality so have no problem with gay men. It’s cool. So I said hi. He extended his hand and shook mine. Perhaps a little longer than I would’ve liked. He squeezed a litte too much grip for my liking too. He said a few arb things about not seeing me there that often, and why wasn’t I swimming. I said I was doing more weights and rowing and less swimming. He then said that I looked amazing. Clue number two as to what might potentially unfold.

He leaves and I stay for another 10 minutes or so and then go shower. This is where it gets fun… Sort of. Now I treasure the shower cubicles because it gives you the privacy you so rightly deserve. Also hiding the potential view of an incredibly large hairy man that seems to find the need to bend over; while giving his anus the strong, and vivid, cleansing it so probably deserves.

I rinse off, wash and am about to switch off the shower when I here it [the ‘Him’ parts are to be read in high pitched mincingly gay accent]:

Him: “Phlippysthaurus?...”
Me: “Uhhh, yeah [abrupt yeah]”, at this point my left eyebrow is giving a raise similar to The Rock, and I am feeling a little nervous reaching quickly for the towel to wrap around myself.
Him: “Where you?”
Me: “Uhhhhh, here. Why?” Now I am getting seriously worried.
Him: [I shit you not he said this] “It’s meee silly.”
I open the door slowly to peer out hoping this is all a demented joke.
Him: “I thought I was s-tho rude earlier shaking your hand and not talking to you properly. I was s-tho rude. Here, thisth isth my number, call me and we can get together sthometime. Maybe go for a drink? Byeeee

At this point I get this sinking and worried / confused look on my face. Eyes slightly more ajar than usual, severe and stern look of manliness suddenly becoming very necessary. But at the same time the look was one of, when you fart and you suddenly screw up your face not knowing if you just hit follow-through or no – where you get that sinking look of complete desperation of, “Oh God please no.” I would’ve paid money to see my face.

My brain was wanting to say, “Dude, I’m not gay”, but all that was coming out amongst the shit-worried look on my face was, “Uhh, ohh…kay…” As he hurriedly runs off prancing, mentioning, once again, that I should call him. Now I am standing there stunned, confused, and bewildered, holding a piece of paper with his name and number on it. I had this very sudden urge to look at a pair of tits and a healthy va…

Definitely heterosexual still…

… Minjas need to find that man…

Thought for the Day

2007-04-13T07:53:00.000+02:00

It is not so much what you’re thinking that controls your destiny and experiences, but how you are thinking.

Mojo Baby, Yeah!

2007-04-12T09:55:00.000+02:00

mojo
–noun, plural -jos, -joes.
1. A magic charm or spell.
2. An amulet, often a small flannel bag containing one or more magic items, worn by adherents of hoodoo or voodoo.
3. Personal magnetism; charm.
[Source: http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/mojo]

Being a single guy you generally find that your mojo is either with you or not… no in between phase. What I fail to understand is, when you need it the most [single guy], why does it elude you, and when you need it the least [relationship guy], you seen to have it oozing from every orifice available! I mean every… orifice… available.

You find you are single, recently single guys seem to retain their orifice oozing mojo for a brief period subsequent to the ‘break-up’. This gives them the ability to mack just about anything with a bra and two legs [this works for girls as well btw]. Put a bra on a kitchen sink… you’ll be macking that beeyatch! But as soon as that magic has worn off you are like a floundering fish. Fumbling and fucking about , mumbling like you have just seen girls for the first time. Why? Grow a penis for goodness sake! [Please note I am included in this]

It’s not because we have lack of self confidence. No. It’s because we try too hard and land up looking like a right tit because you say something stupid like, “When I was skiing off Peace to save a little girl I broke my arm. Then I went in to the emergency ward and… I, I, I, I, I…” The I’s have it and you’re outta there!

Picking up a Men’s Health [in my opinion]is quite possibly the WORST thing in the world you can do. Articles like, Please her like the man you are, and How to be the best in bed. Who the fuck reads those articles and takes notes? Married men, that’s who! Single guys, should not read that. People in bamboo houses should not throw pandas…… Jesus said that.

That said, the muscle development articles in Men’s Health are in fact quite good, and very accurate. The problem is, people need to actually understand the why, behind the how. [I bought a Men’s Health for the first time in two years yesterday btw – LoL]

So in essence, mojo should be bottled and resold to single men everywhere. I the meantime, here are some mojo making tips:

1. Wear cool, fitted shirts. Tight is out, and baggy does nothing;
2. Brilcream and La Pebras should only be sold to dirty old men from the Mediterranean;
3. If balding, do not attempt the “Comb Over”. This is sad and ridiculous;
4. Tattoos can be cool but make sure they coincide with your character. Jo'blog pulls this off well. Colin Farrell does not… [**ducks from things being thrown at him by women the world over]
5. Read, this gives you shit to talk about;
6. Have an opinion [and a back bone];
7. Take up yoga, gives you more stuff to talk about;
8. Formulate an understanding of what girls like. Things like rom coms [romantic comedies] and the like.

P.S. I hoped you like my random piece thrown in for effect – it cracked me up…

Cake Jumping Inc.

2007-04-11T09:07:00.000+02:00

March 2006. Approached by a beautiful young lady, my friend. “We’re looking to do something special for my sister’s 21st this year. We’re thinking of having someone jump out of a cake for her.”

Phlippy: “Sounds cool, who’s doing it?”
Friend: “You.”

And so it began. Oddly enough I didn’t even hesitate to say yes. Having never seen her or known there was a sister, I was just doing it for the fun of it and saying that I have done it. I drew the line at wearing a red g-string however. Could not picture myself wearing a banana hammock with my package looking lie a pair of rolled up socks! A few weeks later my friend introduced me to her mom for approval of the cake jumper to be.

Her mom was suitably impressed [thank goodness], and I got the job. I had been working out quite a bit at that time of year [not to the extent now – looking back at the photos my arms needed work and I needed to diet – LoL] so I was looking ok to do it.

9th April was the date. You can imagine Rocky style training leading up to it, Rocky music in the background followed by Eye of the Tiger. Determined focus, a resolve not to look like a ‘total’ idiot jumping out of a cake [just a mild idiot]. The day before the cake jumping, 8th April, I fall ill. My throat starts closing up and my eyes get puffy as flu symptoms start to settle in. I am mortified.

The 9th pull round. I have had my chest waxed for the occasion [pleas refer to Pain and the quest for better lovin'] and had been tanning for a few days. Suntan oil acquired for “shiny” effect later that evening. The cake jumping was being held at a club in a shopping complex. Adjacent to the club is a pub and a walkway to a toilet area. I arrive early in the morning to have a look a the cake and practice my “routine”. This was to ensure that I didn’t come out of the cake like a tonsil, but rather like a professional Cake Jumper, seasoned veteran and having been in many cakes… [that sounds kinda racey]. This cake was enormous.

Anyway, the evening came, I showered, chose my outfit, made my way through, arrived a little late for the start of the party, but that was fine as the jumping was only at speeches.

Jump time. The sister and I went outback to where the cake was hiding. I took off shirt et al, was given a gold bowtie and she oiled my up. I landed up doing a series of push ups in order to “re-buff” myself. Now ladies, I don’t care what anyone says, men will often do a series of five or ten push ups while you are “getting ready” in order to make themselves look more appealing. It’s what we do.

The cake get’s wheeled into the club in the middle of speeches and I was told to jump out when I heard someone say something. Only problem is I couldn’t hear a f$%ken thing!
Thank God I didn’t leave it too late and the timing was almost perfect, I managed to climb out and not slip with all the oil. Said a few words on the microphone attached to my head. Climbed out and proceeded to feel rather groovy about everything. Turns out the sister was an absolute belter and I landed up going out with her for a while.

Vodka Flavoured Easter Eggs

2007-04-10T07:32:00.000+02:00

Wow, what a weekend… I never knew that straight-shots-of-neat-vodka-for-free-on-a-Friday-night could be that hazardous!

Friday was all fun and games, flying by the seat of my pants I decided to relax a little take a break, had just bought XBox game and was settling nicely into my arm chair, naked apart from doondies, chips, coffee, pillow and games. Nasty image I know [insert pic of fat greasy balding dude with pimple and sweaty butt crack… charming]

I get random smses from fantastic friends to come and join them at News Café in Fourways. After a little deliberation of getting out of my newly found comfort zone, I migrated to the shower. Did the shower thing [no partner unfortunately] and got spruced up. Phoned a few more buddies who landed up pulling through as well.

Upon arrival I find my now rather inebriated friends and a new addition to the group. We’ll call her crazy naughty girl [CNG for short]. This chick is a legend, but that night was up to some serious mischief much to everyone’s delight. Frank arrived, Chews Arrived, and my friend Squeak. Before this I was sitting at the table and admiring a girl at the next table thinking, “OMG why are there distractions like this?” Just as I develop the cahunas necessary to go over and chat to her she leaves… SIGH. Anyway, vodka promotions running, Absolut to boot, and we are winning free sheeit left right and centre. I arrived late so I get fed a monumental amount of shots… ok just 3… but who cares, my story comma damnit! This coupled with a few Hunters Drys and I was well on my way to “Wobbled Land”. Frank arrives and this is where the evening goes downhill.

Frank is another player that has not yet been properly introduced. Frank everyone, everyone, Frank. Frank is just a little over six foot. Big guy, not in a fat way, but in a nicely built kinda way. He has a heart of gold and is so relaxed he slides uphill. This is part of the energy that people enjoy about him. The other thing about Frank, that I have learnt recently – is that he is a babe magnet, He is ridiculously good looking, smooth as ice, and intelligent. He makes me sick. It’s one of those when you walk up to a girl in a club or party, “Hey, how you doing?” “Fine, thanks.” “I’m Phlippy.” “I’m Cheryl, who’s your friend?” This is where I start cursing under my breath and decide that Frank deserves to be Roshamboed right then and there.

The downhill part of the evening when Frank and I realised the CNG was game for [well we thought it at least given the fact that she said we could put it anywhere and it would have to be both of us...] a threesome. This left Frank and I in a moral dilemna and not so keen to do anything but drink and giggle like school kids at the prospect of this opportunity.

So the evening is going smoothly and the girls are loving Frank. It went even further going downhill when we landed up both placing our hands on another girls bum cheeks [we are depraved animals I know]. It was naughty and provocative all at the same time! Yay. So the evening is going smoothly and the girls are loving Frank. It started going downhill when we landed up both placing our hands on a girls bum cheeks. It was naughty and provocative all at the same time! Yay.

The evening was basically debauched and crazy. But good times were had, and it fizzled out early. I think a whole bunch of people skipped on the bill which did not amuse the girls.

The rest of the weekend was spent in utter brain rot. Rugby festival on Saturday saw us drinking… again… not too much mind you.

Saw 300… AGAIN… with Frank, now he can understand the fixation with, “THIS IS SPARTA!!!” and it also rekindled my flaming desire to do more sit ups. At this point my stomach feels like rocks, but I am also in pain from over training. Never a happy medium with Phlippy.
And finally… to set the stage for another story to come. Today is the anniversary of the day I jumped out of a girl’s 21st birthday cake. [I contemplated putting up a picture but the sight of me oiled up in a gold bow tie and hipster jeans does not bode well for my readership]

How To: Play Backgammon

2007-04-05T12:55:00.000+02:00

Backgammon is a board game for two players in which pieces are moved according to the roll of dice. The winner is the first to remove all of her own pieces from the board. Many variants have developed throughout the world, but most share common elements. It is a member of the tables family, one of the oldest classes of board games in the world.

[Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Backgammon]

Contrary to popular belief this is not a game for people to play in civilised public areas.

The game is simple, each opponent has a certain amount of pieces laid out on the board. The primary objective is to get all your pieces into your “home zone” and then clear them off the board. Two dice are used to determine how far you may move your pieces. If your pieces are blocked from landing on an area by two or more opposing pieces, you may not move there.

If you leave one piece open, the opposing player [should they role the appropriate number] is then at risk of having his piece “eaten”. Should the piece be taken, the opposing player must remove his piece from the board and take off an item of clothing.

The secondary objective is to get your opponent [preferably of the opposite sex… well I guess that depends on which way you are inclined //Phlippy shudders//] completely naked. It is true. This is how it has been played for hundreds of years. Honest.

Once your opponent is completely naked you are obliged to create forfeits for every time they are “eaten” and have no clothes to remove.

These forfeits are the choice of the “eater” and not the “eatee”. This is where it gets interesting.

The other difficulty is then to complete the primary objective.

Filler

2007-04-04T08:04:00.000+02:00

While you wait for some really deep and profound post, here is a filler. These are two of my all time favourites. [I really need to start saving these and build my collection because I cannot find them in my gigantic inbox anymore... **sniff]

How To: Be a Ninja

2007-04-03T11:01:00.000+02:00

[This one’s for you Wiggles]. Special thanks and mad props go to www.askaninja.com for aid and content on How To: Be a Ninja.

Ninja:
A ninja may have been an assassin or spy in Japanese culture, usually trained for stealth. Appearing in fourteenth century feudal Japan, and active from the Kamakura to the Edo period, their roles may have included sabotage, espionage, scouting, and assassination missions, perhaps in the service of feudal rulers (daimyo or shogun). Since the art of stealth killing leaves no witness, the truth about ninja will likely remain hidden. [Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ninja]

Ninjas now roam the world with more and more people joining the club of deadly assassinations and killing sprees. If it weren’t for the unionisation of rabid squirrels there would be ninja helpers. But the unions make them so damn expensive.

Being a ninja is MORE than just wrapping a t-shirt around your head, donning pyjamas, grabbing your mothers favourite kitchen knife and slicing stuff up. No! Being a ninja is a way of life! The defiance of physics! It is a mantra that calls out in the dead of night. Being a ninja means that you will face those things that people don’t know exist… mainly because ninjas kill them before you know. Hydras are difficult to kill.

In order to be a ninja you need stealth and sneakiness. You need to have a grasp of technology and the deadliest weapons known to man… and not known to man for that matter.

Ninjas must have a passion for killing. Ninjas think about killing, they journal about killing, they talk about killing, they daydream about killing. They think of new and innovative ways of killing people. I know a ninja that used an sloth, a large cup of tomato soup, and a week in an amusement park. Think about that.

But ninjas aren’t all about killing! Nothing could be closer to the truth; and still miss the point entirely. Ninjas are not a one trick pony! They are an infinite… trick… pony…

Ninjas are a loving group of people! They get together for Hide Fest, where a bunch of ninjas get together and then go hide.

They play board games. The best one being “Duck”. This is when a ninja swings a board at you and you have to duck before getting hit… I miss Roger, he was never any good at that game.

Making sure that you kill the right person is imperative, I don’t know why they named so many kids “Trevor” in the eighties, but make sure you kill the right one. If you wrongly kill a person, you need to go back the next day and kill them correctly.

Ninjas never fall in love… They glide silently into love with two swords drawn!

That is a small insight into being a ninja, any more and I would have to get one to end your life.
For more Ninja trivia go to www.askaninja.com

A Date with Trouble

2007-04-02T09:08:00.000+02:00

For those of you that have been reading from the beginning, you will know that I have not blogged about my “relationship” escapades… or at least I think I haven’t [far too much content to sift through to find out]… Either way, here we go.

I’ve had a bit of a run in with Trouble before. Trouble and I have become quite close recently actually. We actually had lunch, last week, great girl Trouble. Bad taste in restaurants though. What Trouble as taught me is that it is NOT a good idea to…

So you’ve all heard of friends with benefits. Kind of a strange arrangement, sort of like, “Cool, so we both want to thump like rabbits, but we don’t want to go out?” “Let’s just go at it then; and date other people!” “Schweet!” This way; you get your mack on with someone you know, preferably hot, and it is an easy booty call late on a Saturday night when you haven’t got action.

What this omits to tell you is that “dating other people” does not, under ANY circumstances, include her sister! [Please note that this should also extend to her mom, aunt, or any other extended female in the family]

Have you ever seen a woman turn into a dragon? Not like a “funny haha” dragon, but a woman breathing fire and brimstone, eyes like a serpent, and she farts flames. When a woman is pissed off, stay out of her warpath.

Also, and more importantly, when she tells you that her sister likes you, and then says that she is cool with it, DO NOT under any circumstances believe her. Rather just assume that her sister does NOT like you and that your friend is NOT ok with it.

When you ask, “Babes, I don’t think it would be a good idea, are you sure it is ok for me to go there?” and the response is thus, “Phlippy, there is no one else I would rather my sister go out with.” This is not a cue to jump her sister’s bones. This is “women’s English for, “You are a great guy, I sort of like you, you pomp my sister and you’re dead.”

As an aside, also get to know her sister first as she may be a total mismatch for you. Also ensure that you do not befriend the parents because they turn and ask you, “Why is my elder daughter so upset and not talking to anyone?” This is where you awkwardly bite your lip and change to the ever interesting weather topic.

All in all this was a life lesson worth learning. You know it is wrong before doing it but you do it anyway ‘just in case’ it will work.

My friend and I are still friends, in fact closer than we were before, don’t ask me how, I am still trying to figure that one out.

Trouble and I are lunching again this Friday.

Random

2007-04-01T22:26:00.000+02:00

Phlippy: OMG…. Please would somebody tell me where we are?

Dude: ….

Phlippy: What country is this?

Dude: …[pause] What do you mean? This is South Africa.

Phlippy: Oh thank God, you sure? Because for a moment there I thought THIS IS SPARTA!!!

**I now have the sudden and immediate urge to run off, by steroids and do ridiculous abdominal workouts!

Phlippy out

How To: Exhibit Cleavage

2007-03-30T09:48:00.001+02:00

This ones for the ladies… but fellas, listen close.

In light of our very special day today, National Cleavage Day (thank you Wonder Bra), I thought that this would be the most appropriate post. Cleavage, taking the twins for a walk, teaching the puppies to dance, exposing yourself decently, all in the name of making sure that men continue to drool, and women can exert their very recognised power.

When creating the “cleavage” it is important to remember that buoyancy is the key ladies. Sagginess should be avoided at all costs as low hanging cleavage is like looking at an Orangutan’s bum. Not that pretty and mostly bald.

The choice of bra is vitally important in this respect. Ensuring that, if your girls are heavy, you own and use a bra that has the relevant padding and support to hoist those puppies to stardom.

Boobs are like any girl, they just wanted to be noticed, adored, loved, hugged and squeezed… on the cheeks… just a little. They should be treated like the princesses that they are. And adorned as such. They should also be shown in public as often as possible for their adoring public.

When a tan is prominent, do not be afraid to leverage the fantastically browned skin area. Wear a white bra and white top to accentuate the subtle contours. Ensure that you have a decent amount of lift. Not too much otherwise it looks a little forced. Delicate and alluring is what you’re going for.

Tan lines are also very attractive, if you have the type of breasts that make other women go, “You bitch!”, then please, please… do not wear a bra, and show off your puppies with pride.

Fake boobs are great for cleavage day but not so much fun when trying to sleep on your stomach. Apparently… Nipple stands are quite a regular occurence for fake “twins” so please feel free to not wear a bra either as, well, you can.

For girls with slightly smaller boobs, the use of “Chicken Fillets”, or loose implants, is completely acceptable. They will add an element of size, roundness, and fullness. At the same time they will make you feel better about your boobs than you normally do [well some women at least]. Just an aside, there is nothing wrong with smaller boobs, they just the right man to know how to handle them ;-)

Now, here is the clincher, when exhibiting cleavage it is important that, wherever you walk you have your hands down in front of you by your general groin region… area… place, preferably intertwined, while trying to touch your elbows together. This helps to uhhh, help your girls breathe, and uuuhhh, is an exercise that gives them more lift by exerting the muscles. That’s it…

How To: Take a Shower

2007-03-29T10:07:00.001+02:00

Taking a shower is one of the most satisfying feelings in the world. The ability to wee without having to worry about hitting the bowl, being able to fart without the bubbles of evidence, and sharing your pubic hair with the next person, is awesome.

There are distinct differences between taking a shower alone or with your partner.

When taking a shower alone singing is completely acceptable, especially if you have music accompanying. For men, singing Celine Dion, Gloria Estefan or Whiney Houston is worth a solid beating and the shower gremlins will sodomise you; in the vein hope of getting you to shut the hell up. Women, you are not allowed to sing any Barry White – this is the man’s domain.

Upon entering the shower, marvelling at the size of your willy is obligatory. Suck in the stomach, make manly chest expansion and flex your muscles. Drop towel to the floor.

When washing, as a man it is imperative to make as much of a mess as possible. This asserts your dominance in the relationship. Ensure that you wash your face first and your bum last! This gets maximum pube-to-soap ratio and distribution, and eliminates the possibility of them touching your face. Shampoo is perfectly usable on your pubic region as well as your head. You want your “area” to be soft and fluffy… NOTE: When washing your “area”, please do not spend an extended period of time… repeatedly. That’s is just not cool.

Exit the shower, wrap towel around your waste, not before marvelling at willy size once again, it always seems bigger after the shower [washing enhances size].

Showering for two people is slightly more complicated. In a shower area that is relatively small, it is important to adhere to the rules of engagement. One must wash the partners back for them as this is courteous and often met with a smile and light “touching”. Please refrain from “rising to the occasion” as this becomes uncomfortable and awkward for your partner. It also reduces the small shower real estate as now there is less moving space. Unless of course the intention of the shower was a precursor or prelude to the main act, setting sail is then acceptable.

Use shower gel when showering with a partner as it is shinier and makes her boobs look really cool. When soaping her boobs, be gentle but ensure that she feels like she is still be cleaned.

Breaking wind or having a wee in the shower when there are two of you is not cool, especially considering there are already two of you and the sodomising gimp gremlins would make it EXTREMELY crowded!

[Please note, no ninjas were harmed in the creation of this post]

How To: Use a Urinal

2007-03-28T11:00:00.000+02:00

Common etiquette in using a urinal must be adhered to at all times. This is not something to be trifled with as one can lose an appendage, or find themselves face down in warm liquid, should the wrong look or gesture be given.

The urinal is a sacred place, and certain rules – as in any sacred temple – need to be followed. Shoes should definitely be worn. I don’t know if any of you have ever looked at the floor at the base of the urinal? Where shoes, it’s gross man!

Upon approaching the urinal it is important to note the spacing and where you are to stand. If there is anyone else standing there you are NOT allowed to stand directly next to them. One should observe the one urinal rule. This means that one can only stand one urinal apart from the other. Should there be no space to exert the one urinal rule, or there are only two urinals, use the toilet.

Should all stalls be occupied and you are now ready to piss in your pants, only then are you allowed to use a urinal next to someone. You may not look anyone in the eye, you must look straight ahead, or down directly at your junk.

If you feel the need to crick your neck to either side. Don’t. This is bad and can be misconstrued following which Ninjas will chop off your arms… and winky.

You are allowed to hold you package with one hand only. Two hands is showing off and once again… Ninjas. If you are a kid, midget ninjas [also known as Minjas] will be after you.

When completing the process the old adage of shaking more than twice is playing with it.. IS playing with it. Should you start to feel a little “quirky”, stop, put it away, and leave.

The Glancer
Sometimes at a urinal we are faced with, a Glancer. This is the guy that wants to make sure that his is juuust about the same as yours but better. These people are weird and should be avoided. One can tell a “Glancer” upon entering the facility. He is usually the guy looking around, head slightly tilted upward and smiling, eagerly awaiting someone to “fill the space” next to him. The Glancer also tends to strike up conversation.

Conversation is a no go area, unless it is with your buddy and he is six urinals away from you.

The Intruder
The intruder is a woman that can no longer hold it in the ladies queue. Your objective [although not the first reaction] is to get as close to her as possible. An intruder using the urinal is an extraordinary sight. Photos are welcome and encouraged.

How To: Use an Elevator

2007-03-27T10:58:00.000+02:00

Elevators smell different to midgets… they also smell different to ninjas [private joke LoL]. There are certain rules, unwritten rules, that apply when using an elevator. This particular post was inspired by a book I read.

Upon approaching the elevator push the button only once. Contrary to popular belief, pushing the button does not make the elevator arrive sooner. It only aggravates people around you, and provokes the three year old standing by his mom’s leg; to start to smash the button and surrounding area with the palm of his hand.

At this juncture it is important to note that under no circumstance are you to engage in conversation with anyone. The occasional cough is acceptable and expected. Listening to other peoples’ conversations is also acceptable. Provided they do not realise that you are, in fact, listening in.

Upon entering the elevator it is important to know that you are in no way allowed to look anyone directly in the eye. Should this happen; you will be completely incinerated and 100 ninjas will chops off your arms. In order to curb the potential arm chopping exercise, everyone should stand at 90 degrees to the next person with their head bowed slightly. This will then, if you are looking from above, create the illusion of a mini elevator maze.

If the elevator is distinctly full it is sometimes fun to be the last to walk in turn around as the doors close, stare intently at the people and state” So I guess you’re wondering why I called you all here today?” This immediately breaks the ice and makes a few people laugh. Except for the large sweaty hairy man in the corner… he is always grumpy.

It is not acceptable to break wind in an elevator under any circumstances! If it is really silent then ok, but DO NOT start giggling or snickering, that gives the game away. Be at least the second or third person to look surprised as it graces the nostrils of other elevator goers. Being the third is generally a good cover, but don’t be too loud about it.

It is also not acceptable to stare at someone and start the slow grin approach. It is creepy and gross, and you should be slapped.

Should you spark up conversation with any member of Team Elevator, please ensure that no garlic, onion, or tripe was consumed beforehand. This may induce projectile vomiting and that is just not nice and difficult to clean.

The "How To" Series

2007-03-27T09:21:00.000+02:00

So my next series that I am starting off will be called the "how to" series.

This will range from "How to use and elevator" to "How to drive in traffic."

I already have a list of things I am keen to write about but I'd be interested to see what you can come up with.

Suggestion time?

Movies, Games, and the Arnie Effect

2007-03-26T07:22:00.000+02:00

What is it about the male species? One of the fundamental, completely undeniable, make-ups of the “man” is, what I like to call, The Arnie Effect. As a single guy I find it even more difficult to shrug it off. The phenomenon of which I speak does not seem to afflict females to the same degree. Only men have it bad…

This effect does not only happen in Arnie movies though. No. I noticed it when first my buddy and I were watching Conan the Barbarian however, after which, two things happened:

1. An irresistible urge to walk around with a thick Austrian accent saying stupid shit like, “Kraam, I’ve never prayed to you bee-fooorre…” or from Predator, “Do eet, do eet noooww, KILL mee.”
2. The disturbing desire to suddenly go out and train at a gym with the intent of growing muscles the size of Mount Vesuvius.

Since then I have noticed that there are certain types of movies that cause men to get suddenly excitable [no not porn] about life and have huge motivation to do things.

Watching a Jet Li or Jackie Chan movie generally makes us want to renew the Kung Fu career that we left behind when we were 18, or you get the irresistible urge to test your new found fighting prowess, and see whether the double tap kick to the groin and mouth simultaneously really works? [I did in fact do that once… I was fighting a seven headed horn daemon… on the wing of a plane… with a moist burrito…].

Watching movie like the Transporter, anything with The Rock in it or really seriously well built dudes will make men want to just go train and be really huge looking!

And computer games will have a similar affect. Try playing a game like Burnout Revenge and then drive. I swear there are little triangles above all the cars around you. You find yourself shaking after a while trying not to smash them off the road for extra boost to get to your destination quicker. Or to achieve a signature takedown.

The only time I have seen this happen in a woman was during the movie Love Actually… or the Wedding Date… or The Notebook… in fact most ridiculously mushy movies. I haven’t found out what it is yet, but they get that spaced out look in their eyes. Like men do when we see two women kissing.

First Triangle

2007-03-23T08:24:00.000+02:00

I went to the JPO last night with a friend of mine, and in amongst the joyful banter and total gayness that comes with going to something of this ilk, there started the uncontrollable giggling that you get when you shouldn’t giggle.

You know that giggle where you snort every now and again and tears well up as you try desperately to hold it in? Where the giggle is so contagious that the person beside you also starts? Yeah. And why? you may ask, the visual that played out before me was too much and my imagination went awry.

You have an entire orchestra, and on the outside you have the percussion instruments. That’s the way it is. This includes, a big fcuk off drum, the cymbals, and a triangle. What I found hysterical, and gazed upon in total wonderment, was that the triangle “expert” was the biggest dude in the entire orchestra. Not only this, everyone in black tie and the chick smashing the cymbals was wearing a freakin ninja suit [sort of… almost]. They looked like Laurel and Hardy of the orchestra!

Then, I started watching as there were points in the movement when the cymbal and triangle were played at the same time… spot the problem. Can you imagine the sense of frustration of the triangle dude trying to get his awe in and going postal one day because “Cymbal Bitch” keeps stealing his thunder?

While “Behemoth Man” lightly grips his triangle and beaty mathingy, “Cymbal Bitch” flexes her exposed angry lesbian shoulders and smashes the shit out of the cymbals… classy… of course, it is a symphony you know.

Then I started laughing about, “How does triangle guy explain what he does to prospective objects of affection?” [excluding horses, camels, and self-love machines] It’s like in Love Actually, being the first lobster in the nativity play… I started imagining the conversation , “So what is it you do?” “Well, I’m the FIRST triangle in the JPO.” As he smiles smugly to himself… blank stares follow coldly… “Sorry, what I meant to say is that I am a penis double for porn actors.”

I have to say that I know there is a lot to actually playing the cymbal and triangle, but flip it was funny in my head.

Thought for the Day

2007-03-22T11:10:00.001+02:00

By living with intention and purpose, we can experience lives of joy, vitality, and confidence that go beyond day-to-day achievements…

Random Go Time

2007-03-20T09:12:00.001+02:00

Given the nature of my previous post and the fact that the “tent pitching” elicited such controversy, I thought I’d follow it up.

I was sitting the other day chatting to my financial advisor and friend. Before this I was sitting quietly in Village walk sipping on my green tea and randomly smsing people whilst awaiting his imminent arrival.

The fantastic thing about being single, and comfortable with it, is that you don’t really need to be with anyone, you’re quite content to just be on your own and watch the happenings of the world go by.

What I want to know is, why, on a sunny afternoon with cars driving by, you’re grinning stupidly to yourself, happy as a proverbial pig in shit, can a man possibly conjure up…. The Spontaneous Random Erection.

You’re parking off, minding your own business and your todger decides to stretch his figurative arms, yawn, blink his eye, smack his lips together, and say “Is it go time now?”.

“No… No it is not GO TIME. Go back to sleep you stupid frikkin appendage! My financial advisor is arriving and you had better bloody behave yourself!” [yes men do have conversations with their penis… well in my world at least]

Another phenomenon is when you know that you are tired. This is further ratified by the fact that you are so tired that your penis wakes up 15 to 20 minutes after you in the car on the way to work. The delayed Morning Glory is an interesting one, and very uncomfortable in the car. Unless of course you are one of my buddies who views this as a prime opportunity that needs to be taken advantage of. Apparently that only happened once. Dear Geezus I hope so

Mental image of dude in bakkie driving past, looking to left, and nearly swerving off the road.

Dating: Part 5

2007-03-19T07:25:00.000+02:00

Welcome back to the Dating Series with your host… Phllllllipppyyyyy Saurus. Would everybody please put their hands together – cue crazy 80’s talk show music as Phlippy comes jogging down the makeshift prop stairs smiling like an idiot and waving.

“Well everyone, after a long break, our show has been re-aired. Thank you to our sponsors at Durex, and to our fantastic friends at [insert studio name here]. In our prevailing and rigid search of choach and schlong, the show continues.”

“We left off at Dating: Part 4, the ‘pre-first date’ scenario which led to the build up of what would be your magical date. Now everyone knows that this show is NOT designed to tell you how to date, but rather point out the pitfalls in the stupidity of some of our male and female companions. We hope we do not do the same. In this light we cannot provide you with the perfect date, but rather explore the subtle nuances of what NOT to do.”

“Aaaahhhh, it’s good to be single! [sometimes] Let’s get on with it!” Cue 80’s talk show music once again.

Today we explore potential pitfalls on any date. This date may be a night out on the town, razzling and having a party, it could be a sedate dinner in a classy restaurant with low-lighters. No matter what the circumstance, one should not do any of the following [please note that this is not an exhaustive list].

The Light Snack
Upon lunging [not too eagerly now] to kiss your new ‘person of affection’, one should do their best not to actually 'eat' them. The 'eating' is instantaneously recognisable as unfortunate onlookers need to stop enjoying their dinners, or move away in a club, because they are slack jawed and looking like a deers in headlights. This is owing t the the question, "How did you actually manage to fit half of the other person’s face in your mouth?" They are also wondering how it is that the person is still breathing after having had all entrances through which air would ass; blocked by the "behemoth snogging" that is being forced upon them! This manoeuvre also helps to frighten small children and cause mild heart aneurisms in elderly folk.

The Eraser
This is a dance move loved by many of my friends who cannot understand why the receiving party is not enamoured with their expressions of love.

This move is particularly interesting when engineered by a woman.

It is most notably recognisable when the “erasor” sidles next to the “erasee” and proceeds to rub their bum up and down his or her leg. When intoxicated and balance is often lost completely, this becomes intensely humorous for onlookers as the, now very red and embarrassed, “erasee” cowers and crawls up their own poephol.

Pitching a Tent
This is one only for the guys. This was experienced by a very close friend of mine not too long ago.

When dancing up close to your lady friend, certain “natural happenings” occur. A male – in the eventuality of boner – the readily be able to administer the patented Lift and Tuck manoeuvre.

Failure to comply with the lift and tuck causes the pleat in ones trousers to become increasingly accentuated. This rapidly draws attention to the given area and unwanted photo opportunities. Also, should one be too trolleyed to complete the lift and tuck successfully, he will in fact, be pitching a tent. Definitely not date material.

Out of the Office

2007-03-16T11:29:00.000+02:00

Hi

No post today unfortunately. I am glad to say that we will see the Dating series re-opened on Monday with, Dating: Part 5...

Have an awesome weekend.

Phlippy

The Legend is Growing

2007-03-15T11:11:00.000+02:00

They take pride in knowing…

There comes a time in every grown man’s life when he looks back at his childhood and nostalgia kicks his butt into gear. Memories leak back into the cerebrum and tears of joy well up. Sometimes we break into song, as I did yesterday while chatting to Cuteness about this. Yesterday I bought Volumes 1 -3 of Gummi Bears, and it got me thinking, “How have things changed so much in broadcasting that cartoons such as this are not the readily available anymore?”

These were gentle, loving, kind and heroic cartoons. They instilled a message in small children everywhere, and created what we remember time and time again as we grow older. Often the cartoon had a message at the end, like in He-Man, you don’t find this anymore. Children idolised their TV heroes, and the messages were often adhered to and committed to memory.

Gummi Bears was not the only cartoon of this ilk, He-Man, Bionic Six, ThunderCats, each of these taught us that good always triumphs over evil in a more gentle and softer way than it is communicated today.

Today children are bombarded with violence on television, are inducted into sexual thoughts sooner than previously acceptable, and are subjected to ridiculous shows that change the way they think. Yes, it is part of the parents responsibility to ensure that kids don’t watch some of the broadcasting, but even the children shows are so far evolved from what we remember.

The question then lies, are the children of today perceiving current shows the same way that we viewed the Gummi Bears and the like? How are their minds shaping and changing in comparison to ours? Furthermore, does this create a divide in our ability to understand our children in the future? Their perceptions of acceptability may be grossly warped in comparison to ours and we may lack the understanding required to communicate with them on their level.

This is not a post to blame TV shows for children’s behaviour, not at all, what I am trying to get across is that things may have changed and that change, good or bad, affects all of us I suppose in one way or another. As grown up we are afflicted by work pressures that previously didn’t exist in the same magnitude during our parents reign in the workplace. We work harder and faster, with more dedication and focus.

Parents and children need to be able to communicate, how is the world shaping us that we no longer understand one another?

Realisation

2007-03-14T10:33:00.000+02:00

One thing I realised last night, and I spoke about this morning with a close friend, is that - in my writing - you can see when something is forced or natural.

I have been so caught up recently thinking about the Blog Awards and writing humorous stuff, that it needs to be thought about rather than flow naturally.

I write to calm myself and express feelings that I have and thoughts that I wish to share. I also write to share funny stories whatever they may be.

It would be fantastic to receive an accolade for my writing, but if it means forcing what I am writing, and neglecting what makes me good at what I do, then hey...

So from here on in I will change this. There is some funny stuff coming but only when I am truly inspired and funny ;-)

One Beer!

2007-03-14T09:46:00.000+02:00

How is it that I drink like such a girly-girl? That’s not to say that some girls can’t drink guys under the table something ridiculous, but if you take an 11 year old make them drink a beer, they will more than likely hold it better than I can. I am… a drinking sad-act! **hangs head in shame**

There was once a time, a time when hair grew sparsely on my chin and not sparsely on my head. A time when I could drink proudly and not fall over. I was proud in those days, quaffing booze at a rate that would make a moose fall over… and I didn’t.

Why now, in the prime of my life, do I go and visit my financial advisor - and friend – and get offered a beer, drink it, and start squinting at him and my body sways from side to side, unbeknownst to me of course.

I could see the total confusion in his eyes as we were in deep discussion about short and medium term investments, how I should invest my money, and what high yielding unit trusts he recommended given my profile of… wait for it… Assertive!

As I tried to regain focus and look vaguely intelligent, unlike a marshmallow, I felt my ability to concentrate waning. I felt like George Bush, “Our country will not be taken hostile.. uh hostage… We are a powerful na… Ooooooh look at the kitty!”
One beer for fark stakes. In future, if you see some French looking dude inebriated off his bracket, saying completely inappropriate things for 10:00 in the morning [or anytime really], it is probably me with at least two beers down.

The Comic Affect

2007-03-13T09:02:00.000+02:00

Every now and again we stumble a comic series that is fantastic. Cyanide and Happiness brought us many laughs… well some of us at least.

Yesterday a friend of mine sent me these. I believe they are on a par with Cyanide. You decide – will keep you posted :-)

Most Embarrassing Moment

2007-03-11T17:46:00.000+02:00

As we walk through the journey that we call life, we choose many different paths. Along each path is a challenge or series of challenges that face us. One small choice, a decision taken within that path is a cause, and the effect can only be seen shortly after.

Take for instance some peoples’ total inhibition, and passion that they so lovingly execute, in not wearing underwear. Well sometimes at least. This “choice” may have a “result” when it is our “first time” to try this new found freedom. This boldness that makes us puff our chests out and think to ourselves… “Today! I am a MAN [or really sexy lady depending]! I will experience emancipation like I have never before, and I shall wear it proudly!”… at the tender age of sixteen.

It’s athletics season. Late winter. My little brother is having an inter-high athletics meet at, what was then, RAU Stadium. Being an avid supporter and doing the older brother thing, I went with my mom to go and watch my little brother run his little toothpicks off; and on to glory!

My mom and I were amongst the supporters of about twelve schools that day. Lot’s of people.

The day has been firmly lodged in my memory in a vividness that I can only describe as a nightmare. I was wearing shorts, green with small black checks on them. Trainers. No underwear. And a jersey, no t-shirt.

My mom parks her car in the road right outside the stadium. I remember climbing out thinking, “Wowza it’s cold! Why on earth did I wear shorts? What a winner!” Clouds loomed threateningly overhead. Smelt like rain. Late afternoon, winter, the darkness was settling in.

We went to the end of the stands, the furthest point from the car. The stands were well lt. Looked something like this.

As the rain seemed to be more daunting than my mom could handle, she requested that I migrate myself to the car and return with an umbrella. So I cruise down the stands into the walkway between the track and the stands. Now this walkway is just wide enough to facilitate one normal sized human to walk along it’s massive girth. NOT TWO. Anyway, get the umbrella, and am returning.

There is now a lady approaching me along the walkway. So, politely, I hop up onto the first concrete step of the stand in order to allow her to pass easily. As she passes, I happily hop back down, feeling a slight tug on the left leg of my shorts. A tearing sound accompanies the aforementioned tug. And my heart and peophol become one, in loving unison.

I look down to see, “What could have caused this terrifying sound?”. Not wanting to look at myself for fear, nay dread, of what was to befall my eyes. A tap glared back at me lovingly. My shorts had ripped from seem to waist… ACROSS my general “groinal” region.

As the wind affectionately took the flap of my shorts by the hand, and guided it away from it’s, now, other half, my package lay dangling for an entire stadium to look down upon. Did I mention it was winter?...

The crowd went from 'cheering-for-little-Timmy-to -run-faster', to a dulled silence. Slight coughs were audible from the other side of the stands as my exposed and devastated self stood, a shell of my former self – and former, when warmer, glory.

I have never been as embarrassed I was that day. My mother, thank God had not witnessed the atrocious act that had transpired and mentally afflicted her eldest son. Arriving at my seat she looked at me and asked what was wrong. I explained. Laughter ensued [not fro me] and a towel produced for me to wrap around myself.

That was not funny.

You've Gotta Love Spam

2007-03-09T08:01:00.000+02:00

Spam is possibly one of the most irritating, and yet humorously satisfying inventions of the modern age.

Unlike Jehovah’s Witnesses, spam cannot be kicked in the balls or squishy areas. Spam is the illusive wanker that constantly irritates you, but you are never allowed to smack him along side the ear hole, or with a fish in his face!

Outside of the fantastic spam shown below, other memorable spam mails go down in history:

Microsoft and AOL Award of 400 000 Euros… sent from a gmail account
Got a small dicky… an all time favourite! Always crack up when I read it
"And careful then, my good confess well smoke fellow, use your daggers in any "In an hour." "l said there were bottle no fixed talk habitations tore fry on it, but"In hope an support silently hour down it will be at the door." "To tell brainy you ignore all I sex know," – don’t even ask… I have no fcuking clue?

[Click to enlarge]

All you can do is marvel at how exactly they knew that you had a dick like a doll.

What is your favourite spam mail?

My Friend the ArTard

2007-03-08T10:43:00.000+02:00

Generally mornings start off quite sedately, you saunter into the office, eyes blurry and still half closed. Driving to work was an ‘auto-pilot’ execution of note. You sidle your way up to the coffee machine like a cat making love to your leg. You purr as the first drops of coffee sound at the bottom of your mug.

Dragging your laptop bag behind you; you plonk down at your desk and unpack. This is where you gaze around your desk, and think [for the sixteenth time this year] I should really clean my desk…

You open your laptop, making that slurpy noise while sipping your coffee just to irritate the poor sod next to you. Everything and it’s goat decides to sign in and your blazingly fast machine grinds to speed as fast as a snail fart.

Eventually all is loaded and you eagerly await your first Messenger / Skype / GoogleTalk / Facebook conversation. Like a toddler excited to see his mom’s boob, your heart melts as you see the pop up window of a new convo!

M says:
Hey bugger
Phlippy says:
Hey buddy, how you doing?
M says:
Hmmm, ok I guess
Phlippy says:
Why just ok is something wrong?
M says:
Well, I’m not doing so well
Phlippy says:
Oh Gsuz dude, it’s not [insert female name here] is it?
M says:
Well partly – LoL
Phlippy says:
Please explain
M says:
Don’t know if you wanna know bud
Phlippy says:
Ok, now you’ve hooked me
M says:
ROFL dude, you know what a Prince Albert is?
Phlippy says:
…
Phlippy says:
You didn’t
M says:
Well…
M says:
I didn’t exactly want some oke touching my tottie
M says:
So I decided to do it myself
Phlippy says:
… oih God
M says:
But something went wrong, and I can’t walk or sit that well
Phlippy says:
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA
M says:
So I decide dto do this myself because I thought [insert female name here] would enjoy the feeling. So got a piercing kit, needle ring et al
M says:
Started piercing, it was fucking sore
Phlippy says:
**blink **blink
M says:
I was pulling the needle through and was trying to connect the ring to the needle and realised that it was too small… so I got a bigger one and started again
Phlippy says:
….
M says:
So I pulled it through and then tried to thread the ring through once more… similar problem… they were now the same size
So I thought, no problem, I’ll superglue them together and pull them through…
Phlippy says:
GSUZ!!!
M says:
That didn’t work so well, the needle and ring got caught
Apparently the glue wasn’t completely dry.
Phlippy says:
YOU ARE KIDDING ME?
M says:
It’s a bit swollen now, but it looks cool
Phlippy says:
Swollen, really? Would never have thought
M says:
Had to rip the ring through to get it done
Phlippy says:
Can you piss straight?

And that was the start to one of the most fantastic days… Why are some of my friends such ArTards?

Interesting Times

2007-03-06T23:00:00.000+02:00

There is something so immaculate about having an innocent conversation with one of your female friends, and learning so much about so many strange things. I believe it is like opening Pandora’s Box [or more accurately represented.. a lucky packet] and finding something different every time. But if you listen… truly listen… you’ll realise one thing.

It’s all bollocks.

Although there are admittedly a few pearlers that we can take away, like their view on the porn industry and the reason for face shots. Who out there has ever wondered what the fascination is with a face shot? What… The… Fuck? My friend’s theory is that the face shot is a power mechanism for men. This is because it is a man’s attempt to dislodge the 6cm of make up that took her - so long - to do. I now have a mental image of these porn actresses [using the term actresses loosely] walking around, with no make up, and really tiny heads. Kind of like tall, and out of proportion, Umpa-Lumpas… well maybe if you’re very drunk… and possibly on acid.

The other theory is to yop squirt their fantastically made hair to total freedom. The one-ness of the “man goo” with hairspray can create some incredibly visual appealing scenarios.

Another fantastic discussion was, “Why does my vibrator have a flashlight thingy on it?” Obviously not mine, my female friend’s! She has [apparently] this tiny little vibrator that is intended for ‘external’ stimulation only… Like a horny chick would adhere to the instructions… sigh. Anyway, my tiny little imagination is now conjuring up this scenario [as one does] around the inventor’s reasoning behind this, and how the first trials would have played out. “I sink zhat I vill put ze light on ze end of ze vibe so zhat she can find her szingy!”

Early testing, “Dear Gsuz, what the fuck is this shit? I don’t want my squak lit up like a Christmas tree… Oh for shits sake I can count the number of pubes she missed on the wax! I’m outa here!”… [under breath] “Back to the salon…”

Mental images now of a late night “craving” at friend’s place… Stumble… Crash…[expletive deleted] … drawer open… “Ah ha!”… Click… Bvvrrrrrrrrrrrrrr… “Fuck I hate this light”… [thought process inside friend’s brain – “I wonder if dad walks past he can see the light shining from under the door?” Hmmmmm]… end of session… not quite so horny anymore.

Now how do we remedy this situation? Beat the cause before the symptom arises… Switch it on at the store ladies!

Oh My Greatness

2007-03-06T22:59:00.000+02:00

OK… imagine a pig… Got it… right now, imagine shit, a lot of it… now imagine the pig in the shit… Does he look happy? Well he should!

That is pretty much how I feel right now.

I have the privilege of being a finalist amongst some of the most humorous blogs in the country!

The SA Blog Awards 2007 nomination are in and the judges have cast their eyes over the nominations and the finalists are in.

I am so stoked it is insane! Yay me, thanks guys for the opportunity.

Peace out…
Oh, and don’t forget to vote :-)