Riding the Slipstream

"Sheer imposture, bloated by its own importance, and of unfathomable tedium" is how one pundit decribed this work by the Belgian stage director Jan Fabre at the annual theater festival in Avignon, France. I myself am at a loss for words and the only things that springs to mind is WTF, and strangely enough, the image of a can of 3-in-one oil.

1. Positive proof that God despise motorists. When a bird kaks on your car’s windsreen, you need a bucket of hot water, soap and a scourer to clean it off! What the hell is in bird-crap!? No amount of rain and windscreen fluid can wash it away.
2. If you are going to light up a cigarette, why would you ask me if I mind and then proceeded to light up before I had time to answer you?
3. On death row… why would they take so much care before administering the lethal injection? Are they scared they will pass on a lethal last-minute infection?
4. For all the multi-skilling abilities a woman processes, why would she reverse into another car for no apparent reason? Just start up the car and reverse into the car parked 20 meters behind you.
5. If good things come to those who wait, why hasn’t anyone become rich by sitting on their asses and doing nothing all day?
6. If vitamins are good for you, why do vegetables taste so bad? Is it God’s attempt at a little irony?
7. When you paint a picture of somebody naked, it is considered art. Why is it porn when you take a photograph of someone when they’re naked?
8. If God wanted us to be thin, breathing would burn more calories.
9. The true definition of starving is craving for pizza, fried chicken, fried chips and a beer at 3 AM on a Saturday morning.
10. A forklift picking up a crate of forks would be an example of a piece of machinery doing exactly what it was intended to do.
11. Some people claim that it will always rain after they had washed their cars. If all 6,456,646,398 people on earth (making allowance for those who don’t own cars) were to wash their cars on consecutive days, would the sun become redundant?
12. You know how they say that music sounds better when you are drinking. In that case, would it make sense to sell Michael Bolton CD’s with a bottle of Jack Daniels?
13. Why is it when a guy says to you, "I don't want to sound gay or anything", they very next thing they is so gay that it defeats the purpose of him saying so in the first place?
14. Nice eyes and a great smile on a guy is the same as big tits and a nice ass on a girl. Why then is the one a compliment and the other not?
15. Why is it when you ask someone’s opinion on a proposal you’ve written, all they do is fix up the spelling and grammatical errors. I guess the content paled in comparison to the enormity of the errors.
16. People always say, “I probably shouldn’t be saying this” and then go ahead and say it in any case. Whould it be bad manners to say, "You shouldn't" and then walk away from them?
17. You may never forget how to ride a bike, but try rollerblading a year after the last time you did it.
18. Good Advice: Never eat buffalo wings when you had too much to drink. You’ll only end up with skid marks on your face.
19. Why would someone cc's you on an e-mail and yet a few days later enquire whether you’ve completed the job since the person they sent it to has not come back to them? Does cc have a hidden meaning I don't know about?
20. When someone takes something from your desk, why do they wait until you start asking around to tell you that they have it?
21. In an action movie why does the hero always find time to make out/have sex with the girl at the precise moment when their lives are most in danger?

1st day in my new role. Having my entire project portfolio taken away from me and working on special projects has its upside. It has a downside too, as I have come to discover today. One of the definite perks is that you have no more worries, no deadlines, no meetings to attend and there is absolutely no reason for you to kiss anyone’s ass. You also realise that you spent way too much time worrying about business issues that actually does very little for you personally as well as professionally. Next perk… no more work stress. Yep, I am lank chilled and there is little that can upset me. Another seemingly good perk is the free time you have in which to talk to other people. The downside is people think they can walk into your office whenever they want to. I am suddenly the most popular guy in the freaking building. I may as well put a sign on my office door that says;

I tell you, I did not know that there are as many people working here as I got to meet today. Everybody wants to know why I am leaving, when I am leaving, where I am going to and who is going to take my place. If I had any sense at all, I would have sent out an e-mail to the entire company clearly stating my reasons for leaving. Apparently this is vital information that every person needs to know. My particular 'brand' of resignation is seemingly the biggest event since sliced bread and my life is as much theirs as it is mine. Then there are those who feel that they need to give me advice on what to do next. And in as much as I appreciate the gesture, I really do not need anyone to tell me what I should and should not do. No one seems to remember that I will be here until the end of the year and that perhaps I may have plans of my own. With being stripped of the previously held office title, I suddenly became one of the guys. I am as low down as the cleaning lady and as high up as the MD. It felt good at first; I had the freedom to be myself and meet people on the same level. Besides, I am not a snob and I can mix equally well with all people. Even when what they say things to me that make no sense and I am left wondering what mental institution they had escaped from. However, by lunch time, I had had enough of the me-so-friendly and I-am-your-buddy parade. People who until today would never even look in my direction are now on a first name basis with me. When I was a fully fledged manager, I was Mr. So-and-so.... now I am just K(*chitty*). Still, it is not necessarily a bad thing as long as it does not take away from who and what I am. Colleagues whom I have offended and who have offended me, those who hated my guts and whose guts I hated all of a sudden became my mates. My resignation had wiped the slate clean. How odd is that? Hell, even the gay guy who felt me up when I got drunk at the office Christmas party seems to think all is forgiven. To be quite honest I hate it. I hate what I have become in less than 24 hours. I hate being the agony aunt and I hate being the dumping ground for everyone’s problems, their gripes, insecurities and malicious gossip. I hate that something I agonised over for so long has been diminished to this. I hate that I am the poster boy for the pissed-off and disgruntled. I don't want to be any of these things! There is just so much anyone person can take. So starting tomorrow I am going to put a sign on my door that says,

I haven’t been blogging since last Thursday. I wish I can say I had been busy, but that would not be entirely true. I have had a lot on my mind and I hope that what I am about to do will put an end to the uncertainty and turmoil. Change is good right? At least that is what I’ve been told. It is easy to make change. Change happens all the time. Even if you sit still and do nothing, the world around you is in constant motion. It is however difficult to make good change. Change that makes one’s life better. Change that endures. Change that persists. I believe that in order to make a good change one firstly needs to be in control of that change. I have come to the decision that I need to leave the company I am working for and find myself another job. It is a realization that has been with me for a while now. After having been here for only one year, I can say with certainty that I am not happy with where I am. I feel caged in. The job is no longer a challenge and I know that I am capable of doing so much more than what I am currently doing. I constantly feel like I do not belong, as if I am sitting on the sidelines and watching what happens in the office from a distance. The people I work with are great… wacky and weird, but great nonetheless. I love the energy and the passion they have for their jobs and since I do not feel the same way about mine it is unfair on them to go on with the make belief. So today I am going to walk into my boss’s office and tell him that I intend leaving the company at the end of this year. As I have nothing definite lined up, I need the time until then to complete my current project load, find a new job and get my plans in order. Telling him what my intentions are may not be the wise thing to do, but I hate sneaking around and pretending that all is good when in fact it is not. I trust that he will be open-minded and see that my intentions are good because if he isn’t, I may be out of a job sooner than I had anticipated. The six months hand-over/notice period I am proposing may not fit in with the company’s plans. Wish me luck! I may get more than what I bargained for. Be that as it may… there is no looking back and I am moving forward from here. Update (11:54 AM): It went as well as can be expected. No boss is happy when one of his managers resigns and he felt that the company had failed me in some aspects. Now how nice is that... huh?! I guess it is easier to accept that someone is leaving for another job with better prospects, more money, etc than when they leave because they feel they have to. There was the obligatory, “Is there anything we do or change to make you stay”, but we both knew that the company was not going to live up to my expectations and needs. Good news is that he is ok with me staying on. It has to be cleared at board level, but he doesn’t foresee any major hiccups. Downside(?) is I get to interview, select and appoint my own successor. I will hand over my current project load to one of the other guys on my level. I will be re-assigned to work on special projects. Haha... special projects my ass! I almost burst out laughing when he said that. Anyone with half a brain cell knows that assigning someone to special projects is just a way of keeping them away from the daily running of the business and ensures that they are not involved in any strategic/key business issues or projects. I’m not complaining. It suits me fine for now… it will give me more time to find that perfect job. I may even have more time to blog. All in all, I think it went rather well for me. The office grapevine is already abuzz with the news of my resignation. The next few months at the office is going to be a whole lotta fun. 6 months is more than enough time to achieve immortality and ensure that they will talk about me for years to come. Any good ideas? .

This is a rant. I haven’t had one of these in a while now. My apologies in advance to any parents or would-be parents, but some things should not be left unsaid. I went to Pick ‘n Pay (Pick ‘n Pay is our equivalent to Wal-Mart) yesterday to buy some much needed food items. The cupboards are looking bare and with the rugby this weekend, I am sure to get a lot of visitors. Hopefully we’ll kick some Aussie ass! Go Bokke!! Since I was there, I decided to cruise down the toy aisle. And NO, I am not buying toys for myself. In any case, they don’t keep the ones I’d like to have… hehehe. My sister’s youngest son has a birthday a few weeks from no, and I thought I’d get him something nice. I digress. As I turn into the toy aisle, there a women and her son about halfway down the aisle. It is obvious that the boy wants something, and the mother refuses to buy it for him. I guess it is her prerogative and really none my business. Parents know what’s best for their kids… or so I would hope. But here's the twist. The little brat throws himself on the floor, and lets loose with I can only describe as the highest pitched wail I have heard in my entire adult life. Mariah Carey… eat your bloody heart out! You have n-o-t-h-i-n-g on this kid... n-o-t-h-i-n-g! It is a heart stopper and it cuts through every fibre in my body. Every single person in that entire hyper stopped dead in their tracks. Next, he throws himself on the floor and starts kicking and stomping like there's no tomorrow. He’s like a friggin’ baby Godzilla. Any moment now I expect the roof to come crashing down or that he will trash all the toys on the shelves. Now I don't mind children crying. Heaven knows I was anything but an exemplary kid growing up, but to throw a tantrum of this magnitude in a public place, annoys the living shit out of me. No child has the right to expect to be spoilt, and to go ballistic when he doesn’t get what he wants. And no parent should allow their kids to behave like this in public. Mommy dearest, in the meantime, cannot be bothered to pay attention to the would-be serial toy killer. She looks at him with tired eyes and says in a monotone, "Mark, stop it, I don't care what you want. I am not buying it" (I'm thinking: Whoo-fucking-pee! Is that the best you’ve got woman? Now lets try it with a little more authority.) The child wails even louder. With all the kicking and stomping, he spins around in a little mini circle. It would be hilarious, if I wasn’t so stumped by what’s happening. “Stop it, Mark. I’ve already told you. I don’t care… you are not getting that toy” (Come on, mommy, gimme more! At this point in time I would settle for fire coming out of your mouth.) The child’s wailing pitches once again (definately a rock star in the making). I swear the Barbie dolls went ashen in their little boxes. "But I WANT IT and YOU are going to BUY it for ME! “Stop it, I don't care” (monotone). (Is that your final answer. May suggest you phone a friend... in child welfare?) She acts like he’s done nothing wrong. The brat screams, “But I want it. I want it now! MOMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!" Snot and tears everywhere. This woman’s idea of parenting is fundamentally wrong. In fact she is a terrible parent and I hate her! She has absolutely NO CONTROL over her child. She should not be allowed to have children… ever. The child has no respect for her or any form of authority. He will undoubtedly grow up to be a menace to society. I can see time spent in Juvie Hall , and lots of it. And the mother does not give a shit. I know hitting a child is prolly the biggest social gaffe a parent can commit these days. They are taught to reason, outwit and to engage in dialogue. In this case however, my advice would simply be,

In my job I get to meet all sorts of people, but none are stranger than some of the people I work with on a daily basis. I would never hang out with the majority of them outside of work, but at the office you have no choice but to speak to them… occasionally. Here’s a conversation I had with one of the girls in the tea room this morning. I dunno where she was heading with this, but I wasn’t going to hang around long enough to find out. SHE: At what point does pursuing a guy you adore turn into stalking? ME (laughing): Uh… when you are caught. SHE: Does that mean...? ME: Hey… Tracy (not real name)… I'm pulling your leg. I don't really want to know what you are up to. Here’s a hint though - A restraining order can really ruin the chances of a relationship. When that happens, you pretty much know he is not interested and prolly never will be. Well, that and if he runs away yelling, "Stalker!" at the top of his lungs every time he sees you. SHE (laughing): Surely you don't think that I’m... uh... ME: You? Of course not! I don’t know what to think… I’ve heard thinking is highly overrated. Yep, not the smoothest of exits on my part. (And suddenly, The Office Bimbo seems relatively tame in comparison.)

It is lunchtime and we are sitting in the canteen talking about this and that, when in walks the big boss's secretary. Now this girl has got it going on! (my apologies ladies). She is young and beautiful, dressed to kill and oh-so-sexy. She the kind woman who walks into room and music starts to play in your head. There’s not a guy in the room, moi included, whose blood circulation does not go into full reverse and leaves him as lightheaded as a helium-filled balloon at a county fair. One of the girls sitting at the table with us, comments sarcastically, “The lengths some women would go to draw the attention of men.” Screech… at this point the music stops and life returns back to normal. Now I disagree respectfully with my female colleague on this subject. I do not have a compelling need to go to bat on male/female issues, but there is no way in hell you can convince me that the girl went to all this trouble just to get the men at the office interested. If that is what it is all about, all she really needed to do is to dress up as a hooker. Sure she is flattered by the looks of appreciation and attention she’s getting, but if women feel the need to blame anyone for the lengths they go to to look beautful, they should look no further than their precious sistas! Yes, Ma’am… your girlfriends (and I use the term loosely) are to blame. Now before you say, WTF is he smoking… let me elaborate! (This is where poor old chitty goes out on a limb… hehe) An ex-gf on mine always said; "Looking good and getting a compliment from a man is great, but adoration and looks of envy from other women… priceless". Who is more critical of you and more likely to pass comments on how you look/what you wear and gossip behind your back? The husband and the bf or the girlfriend and the other women you know? The fashion standards of what to wear, which colours are in, what to nip, tuck and enhance etc. are all set by women, the so-called fashionistas, the editors of the fashion magazines and the tabloids. It is all part of the cycle on which the fashion and beauty industry runs. Women are encouraged by other women, no less, to embrace cosmetic and fashion advice and make it their own. Pretty soon it becomes the “in” thing to do and once it reaches the all important critical mass, it goes out of control… every body has to have it. But like all cosmetic/fashion phenomena, it finally comes to an end. Let’s face it, when every body does it or has it, it becomes the norm. And then the next wave starts… The essential ingredient that fuels this phenomenon of beauty and fashion is c-o-m-p-e-t-i-t-i-o-n. And what better form of competition, than competition amongst women. Without the female-on-female competition, the multi-billion dollar fashion and beauty industry will grind to a complete halt. And the prize? The prize is NOT just getting the man... nope it is the envy and admiration of every other women you come in contact with. Ok, getting the man has its many rewards too, and I for one would like to believe that. In the meantime, the dumb-ass males of the species watch the show with Neanderthal-like interest. Sure we benefit from all the competition, but being the simple creatures that we are, we don't ask questions. What do we know about fashion anyway? Men don’t care what women wear or whether it makes their bums look big, all we want to do is get women OUT of their clothes. And women know that! But since we are told by women to find certain things sexy, that is exactly what we will do. God forbid that we don’t… Having reached the point where a fad becomes the norm, women turn the tables on men and make us the scapegoats for what they go through to look beautiful. They can’t go blaming themselves, can they now? “I am only doing this to be more desirable and more beautiful to you!” Suddenly it is men who expect women to be perfect, to be thin… to look like supermodels… bah-de-blah. The pain and suffering they go through is all for our benefit and the very “girlfriends” who started the ball rolling in the first place are the ones they run to for advice and guidance So ask yourself again why women do what they do. Is it really to impress men or is it because of competition and to impress other women? As for the girl who made the comment in the canteen; I can bet you she’s out shopping this weekend to buy something that will make the secretary look like a Sunday school teacher. Let the games begin!

Browsing the web, I came across this article in the LA Times: Adulterers need cards too Having an affair? Maybe you'd like to send something from Cathy Gallagher's Secret Lover Collection of greeting cards. I am stumped. While we are at it, how about extending this into other segments of society? We could have cards for convicted felons, terrorists and all the other nasty people who share the planet with us.

· Roses are red, Violets are blue, I bombed your country, now you feel pain too. · I knocked up your daughter. Look on the bright side, you will be young grandparents. · Happy tenth anniversary on death row! · Thank you for paying the ransom. It was our pleasure to have your daughter as our hostage. We may want to extend our hospitality to you again in the near future. · Honey, I did not mean to sleep with the secretary. She impaled herself on my member when she answered the telephone.

Rope… where the bloody rope?

Today, July 14, is Bastille Day. On this day, 216 years ago, the French peasants embarked on a major revolution, throwing off the chains of the monarchy and hailing the bloodied beginning of the First Republic. Bastille Day, is the French version of July 4th. It is a day the French take a day off from being unemployed (a staggering 10.2% for a 1st world country) and to celebrate their superior lifestyle.

Qu'ils mangent de la brioche (Let them eat cake) - (Marie Antoinette, 1789)

It seems that more than two centuries later, the French are taking Marie Antoinette’s words to heart. Bastille Day has become a day of excess and drunken revelry. It is a day when French people across the world take pride in wearing black socks with white tennis shoes and sing "La Marseillaise," the French national anthem. They engage in coffee shop smoking, drink lots of red wine, eat incredibly expensive meals, watch classic French movies, play games, enjoy dancing and fireworks displays and… well, avoid taking daily showers. Now if you’ll excuse me, my French boss taking us out to a late afternoon lunch… here's hoping I make it back with my head still on top of my shoulders. I’m just along for the ride… never been one to say no to a good celebration.

Viva la France!, Viva la Revolution!, Viva la Republic! Viva le pomme de terre frites! et Tout le choses magnifique et formidable!

[Translation: Viva France!, Viva the Revolution!, Viva the Republic! Viva the fried potato chips! and All things splendid and remakable!]

My gf, bless her, really should learn the art of how to solicit an honest response out of me. Take last night for instance. Something had happened at her place of work. A male colleague got promoted into a new position over a female colleague. This was enough to send all the other women into PMS mode. The consensus from the women is that the female is far more capable and should have gotten the job. A sore point indeed! Incidents like this bring the old clichéd stereotypes to the forefront and it fundamentally becomes an issue with how men see women and how they are treated. Now I have empathy for my girl, but when you have a discussion about equality in the workplace and want to strengthen your argument with appropriate questions, it is of paramount importance that you phrase them c-o-r-r-e-c-t-l-y. Even more so when you are having this conversation with a man. Henceforth, to illustrate my point: SHE: "Ms Corporate Piranha is as capable as Mr. Corporate Piranha, if not better, at managing and leading a team of people. Management are (read men) loathe to admit this and do not give due credit to women in the workplace. Women are still viewed as sex objects and have to work twice as hard to earn the respect they deserve despite of their obvious capabilities. How would you like it if women saw you as a sex object?" Huh… I do not know whether I should answer, fumble with the remote or look away so that she cannot see “that look” in my eye. Are you kidding me woman? That is male fantasy numero uno. I am a man… I would BEG any woman to treat me as a sex object. Please God make it happen right now! Recognition and capabilities vs a rampant penis… uhm… no contest! Seeing as she got no response from me and perhaps thinking that I did not understand; she takes it a step further… (oh boy... my entire life could be ruined by this… nations will be brought to their knees!) SHE: "How would you like it if women overlooked all your other good qualities and only wanted to sleep with you all the time?" Images of me naked on a bed surrounded by thousands of adoring giggling woman floods my brain. The “all the time” part totally clinched it for me. Oh yes, I could soo spend the rest of my life lying down... spread-eagled... or in any other position that would please a woman sexually!! Qualities… who the hell needs qualities? I don’t care… take me… use me… abuse me… make me your slave! Anyway, I finally manage to swallow the substantial drool in my mouth. I clear my throat and with great effort say to her, “Honey, I don’t think you should be asking me these questions. I see your point and I understand where you are coming from and without taking anything away from you, all you are doing right now is making me hot and all the blood in my brain… well, it is heading south. She looks at me for a brief moment and a light goes on behind her eyes. She realises just what she had asked of me. She punches me in the stomach and with a, “Grrrr, you men are all the same” gets up and leaves the room. She returns a few minutes later, laughing loudly with a big bowl of potato chips. SHE: "So tell me, what were you really thinking when I asked you those questions?" ME: "I was only thinking how lucky I am to have you. I don’t need other women when one woman does it all for you." (Secretly thinking: She prolly doesn’t believe a word I had said, but I am I am definitely scoring “good bf” points). Hehehe... I lie so well!

Flying from Johannesburg airport to Durban last week and while waiting to board the plane, I had time to look around the airport for a bit. Besides, the cup of hot chocolate and the croissant I had bought earlier were finished and with it so was my attention span. And watching the arrivals/departures board tick over is only fun for about 30 seconds or so. It amazes me to see how little walking one has to do in an airport terminal these days. And this is only the domestic terminal. There are lifts (elevators for non-Seffricans) and escalators and moving walkways to almost every place you need to go to. All you have to do is step on, park you luggage next to you and off you go. Next thing you know they’ll beam us from one place to another. Now wouldn’t that be fun! “Beam me up, Scotty” and off you go. It seems like nothing now, but back when I was a child, I was seriously freaked out by lifts and escalators. My mother literally had to coax me into stepping onto an escalator. Coaxing by my mother's standards usually involved a lot of hissing and yelling and numerous threats to “tan” my backside with Dad’s leather belt once we get home. Once on it, I would freeze on the spot and remain standing there, arms held stiffly down the side like a retard until it was time to disembark. Getting off usually meant leaping forward just as your step hit the bottom of the escalator. The thought of my shoe getting caught as the step disappeared underneath the lip, was my greatest fear. Well, that and the flesh eating troll who lived under the escalator. Can you imagine what it would be like to be step onto an escalator for the first time when you are an adult? Lifts were a different story altogether. I would cup my hands over my ears to drown out the noise of the motor. I especially hated those super-freaky high speed lifts, the nauseating feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when it seems to drop down to your shoes. Coming down always made me feel lightheaded so I would squat down on the floor much to the chagrin and embarrassment of my mother. I couldn’t care less what other ppl thought and how amusing they found it, it was either that or I’d be wailing like a banshee. Yep, young chitty thrived on melodrama. I don’t exactly know when I got over my fear and nowadays I hardly give it a second thought. Hop on, hop off… it’s as easy as breathing. In fact I am so jaded in general that even when I experience something new, the novelty wears off in a matter of days and sometimes even sooner. Is it perhaps “uncool” to publicly display emotion, joy and fear, these days that we learn to internalise and freak out within? It could explain why have so much rage inside us. I maintain that nothing beats a good top of the lungs scream of joy (or fear) or laughing out loud when you experience something for the first time, does it? I am not saying I want to be scared out of my wits or go around acting silly, just want to externalise that which (or does not) excite me. Good therapy for me, perhaps… not so for the other kids who may come in contact with me.

Back from Durbz and not a bloody minute too soon. Oy… hehe... I could not handle the laid-back lifestyle anymore! I have to hand it to Durbz, though… awesome weather for the middle of winter. It really is the place to be when you hate the cold. Temps are in the mid 20’s all the time… yep, I could live there and procreate to my heart’s content. It is a pity though; the humidity in summer is almost unbearable. Sigh… can’t have it all, I suppose. Back home, it's work, work, work, and well… more work. Don’t you just love how some things remain constant no matter what. Where would we be without the status quo? The gf wants us to go to church more often and she came over with some enrolment forms on Sunday. And all of a sudden I felt a panic attack coming on. Perhaps she wants to settle down and get married… NOOOOOOO !!!! [add in slo-mo effect]. I bet Oprah has something to do with this. Now I am not the world’s most religious guy, and despite my good upbringing (yes I had one), I do not see the inside of a church regularly enough. But, I take my religion seriously. Without religion, what would I say when I cut my finger, suffer from a hangover, knock my head, or when I see the astronomically high costs incurred on my cell phone bill? And without giving away too much, who would we (and I mean all of us) call upon in that crucial moment when we have sex? You tell me…! I even think about religion when the gf or a friend or a family member talks to me about work and about the difficulties in their lives. Quietly I say to myself, “Thank God it is not me” and I say a silent prayer that they may run out of words or that lightening might struck them down. The problem is God hardly ever listens to me or perhaps he has a hearty laugh at my silly plans. I was particularly religious during Saturday’s rugby game when we got our asses kicked by the Aussies. At one point I considered becoming an atheist or an agnostic, because no God would have allowed the South African side to play the way they did in that game. Where is the legendary “smiting” when you really need it? Mostly I am religious when I am desperately in need of something or when I am caught in a situation that requires me to own up to something I did. These are the moments I pray to God to “get me out of here” or to “send me back in time so that I can fix what I did wrongly”. Yep, I am deeply religious… even if it is for the wrong reasons. I’ll be in church on Sunday. Why? Well even I’m not enough of a skeptic or that gullible to believe that life, all living creatures, the universe, George Bush and Tom Cruise could be the result of randomness or chaos.

When the woman in your life uses the phrase, “You Know, Oprah says…” in a conversation, you know you are heading for shit… big time! And true to my nature and instead of nodding silently and say something like… “What’s that dear?” I'm all bloody defensive and say something like, “Whoa, hold on there love, what do you mean Oprah says? How does Oprah know what is good for us in our relationship?” Yeah, when will I ever learn!? Ok, I admit my reaction to Oprah is prolly typical of many men around the world. One of extreme prejudice and skepticism. Can you blame us? The woman single-handedly turned wives and girlfriends into relationship junkies who would do whatever Oprah and her many experts tell them to do. No questions asked. Bow down to the television guru and kiss her feet. Would I trust a woman who believes that she may be of Zulu heritage? Someone had better tell her that the Zulus live in southern Africa and not West Africa where the majority, if not all, so called African Americans hail from. Chances are that is where her ancestors are from as well. Anyway, I am convinced that there is more to the Oprah Winfrey show than meets the eye. Or is it perhaps gender related? I am a guy and therefore I cannot see nor understand the obsession women have with Oprah. I admit; Oprah is good talk show host and tonnes better than Ricki Lake/Jerry Springer and silly little man from The Kumars at no 42 . But would I hang on to every word she says? Would I spice up my conversations with friends and family with Oprah-isms? Would I view the world and others through “Oprah-glasses?” HELL NO!!! You cannot pay me enough money to be that gullible. Take a good look at the women in Oprah’s audience. They whip themselves into some kind of a religious frenzy. Wide and starry eyed, made up and dressed the way Oprah told them to. Where are the normal people? Can anyone other than me see the connection to the Stepford Wives? Normal housewives display the kind of orgiastic revelry which once marked the classical cults of the old world. How does Oprah get away with doing this? Are mind altering drugs involved? Are there subliminal messages in the music or opening credits? Does it involve sensory deprivation? Is it all the free gifts? Or does Oprah herself whip each member of the audience into shape as they enter the studio? How does she command such devotion? I have no fucking idea. Perhaps when you are bored, unemployed with a husband who couldn’t care less whether you live or die, Oprah’s brand of “evangelism” takes on a significance of mystical and cult-like proportions. Her prescriptions and mantras for better living are followed without question or prejudice. Millions glued to the square box day after day at the appointed hour. To me she is nothing has become a demon, one who instead of making my life easier complicates it with her notions and advice. Women do not need advice from other women on how to make men jump through hoops and keep us in limbo; they are genetically programmed to do that from birth. In all fairness she does a lot of good work and there is merit to what she “preaches”, but I do not want to live my life going from one Oprah-ism to the next. There’d be no point to it… I may just as well resign myself to becoming the poster boy for whatever she prescribes. Enough with “The Oprah”! I’m off to Durbz for a few days… a work related emergency. Wish I could say it was for the curry, the cane spirit and the warmer weather an’all. I hate it when this happens. Some mellonhead manages to screw things up and you have to travel across the country to sort out their mess. Guess that is what I get paid to do, but it does not make it any more pleasant. Hopefully, I‘ll make it back before the weekend. If not… well this will the last post for now from the muddled depths of my brain.

If you can’t beat them, join them… that’s the law of the jungle… or nature or evolution or something along those lines. Mondays bring out the worst in people. Driving to work on the N3 this morning, I actually thought I had taken a wrong turn somewhere and had ended up in the middle of a bloody race track. Or perhaps the world had gone crazy and we are living inside a PS2 game console. Suddenly there were all these cars trying to overtake me, tailgating me, blowing their hooters, angrily gesturing for me to get out of the way. Like I could go anywhere, I need the N3 to get to work, dammit. One guy actually gave me the finger; so I gave him the same. I guess he didn’t like it because he raised his fist. At which point I blew him a kiss and mouthed the words… F-U-C-K Y-O-U… with my best smile. So from now on I will exceed the speed limit on the highway whenever I can, not because I am in a hurry or enjoy the rush of speeding, but because I think the highway is a big game (Grand Turismo 4 or Grand Theft Auto), and when you are pass people at high speed, you're winning! Wanna play?

It is the winter school holidays and on his insistence, my nephew is staying with me for a few days. I bet he thinks he can meet girls and indulge in multiple acts of teenage debauchery while he is living with me. Comes with the territory, I guess, the price one pays for wanting to be the cool uncle. What he does not know is that I’ve been there and done most of what he has in mind. There is no way he’s running any scams behind my back. I know what he’s thinking long before he has the time to come to grips with the details of how to execute his plans. That aside, I do not intend the lock him away in a padded cell. Boys will be boys and the only way to learn is through experience. And if he is anything like me… well then he is in for one helluva rough ride. There are some things I've done that I wish I could erase from my memory forever. While I was in the shower last night, I noticed that the bar of soap I had left there for him in the morning had not been used. It tells me that either his body has not seen soap and water in a while or that perhaps he may have a condition that I don’t know of. ME: "Hey man, did you use the shower this morning?" HE: "Yeah, I did” ME: "Well I noticed that you did not use the soap I left there for you” HE: "Oh yeah… That’s right" ME: "Uh, so how do you wash your body?" HE (cocky): "With the greatest of care and lots of warm water" ME (not impressed): "What I meant is what do you use to clean yourself with” HE (matter of fact): "I used the shampoo” ME (thinking WTF): “Are you shitting me! My shampoo? Are you crazy?” HE (Casually) “Ahem… I couldn’t find the soap so I used whatever else was nearby” ME: “But why the shampoo? Is that what you use at your mother’s house?” HE: “Nope, my mom will kill me. But the label on the shampoo bottle said it was ok to use on the body as well. I checked the shower cubicle later on. I saw he had used the BODY ON TAP shampoo. Now either he is incredibly stupid or he is having me on. Or perhaps, he took the brand name literally and assumed that body part meant it could be used on the body. Come to think of it… it does seem like there's an extra bounce in his step… hehe Teenage boys… what a treat it must be to be so blissfully ignorant and easy going. There is nothing the world can you throw at you, that you cannot overcome or side-step. Oh, and I am hiding my shampoo away from now on! Just in case…