Riding the Slipstream

There is a reality show on M-Net called Amish in the City. Yes, you heard me! Whoever thought up this show should be hung, strung and quartered and then fed to a thousand foul smelling maggots living on the genitals of the troll who resides in the swamps located on the seventh moon of the planet "KissMy-friggin-Ass". If this does not epitomise the essense of what it means to "scrape the bottom of the barrel", then nothing else ever will. It is at times like this when a quote by Gallagher springs to mind: Don't you wish there were a knob on the TV to turn up the intelligence? There's one marked 'Brightness', but it doesn't work. My sentiments exactly. Vodka Martini, anyone? Here's to an absolutely "luvly" weekend!

Splitting headache! Dog tired! Pity me all good people who read this blog. No really, I mean it… so please, go right ahead and do it. I am as worn out as a cucumber in a convent and all I ask is to go home and sleep for at least an hour. At 3:30 this morning I was jolted out of bed by the incessant barking of my two dogs. At first I thought it was nothing, so I called out their names and told them to shut up. Normally that helps and I am able to get back to doing what I do best… sleep. This time however they keep right on barking. So I figure that perhaps there is an intruder in my yard. Yeah, I am friggin’ paranoid. My brain sped right past the neighbour’s cat scenario and headed straight for i-n-t-r-u-d-e-r. So I get up and switch on all the lights. I figure that if there is an intruder on the premises, surely this would scare them off. Of course with the lights on, the dogs stop barking, so I reckon that whoever or whatever they were barking at, has left. But just to be on the safe side I also decide to take a look outside by peering through the windows. Of course any old fool can tell you that if you have the light on in a room, there is no way you can see through the window as all it does is reflect your own image. (Look, mommy, there is a scary man at the window…. hehehe). So I go from room to room, turn the lights off, pull back the curtains and look through the window. If the sight of me in my sleep shorts doesn’t scare them away, then nothing else will. By about the third window, it suddenly dawns on me that if there were any intruders outside, me cupping my hands around my face and peering through the window, would prolly be a good target for anyone who wanted to harm me. So I abandoned that absolutely brilliant plan, turned all the lights off, set the alarm and went to bed. About 5 minutes after I turned the lights off, the dogs start barking again. What was I thinking? This time I am livid! Screw the intruders and the neighbor’s cat, I direct all my anger at the dogs and let lose with what can best be described as the theatrics of a madman. Think Rumplestiltskin (NO… not Donald Rumsfeld) dancing around and you get the picture. I think I set a new world record in how many times the word f&ck, various permutations thereof and the word neuter can be used in one sentence. I may also have woken up my neighbours, but who cares, the more the merrier. Why should I lie awake all by myself? Anger and sleep do not go well together. So over the next few hours, long after the dogs stopped barking, I lie awake in bed and will myself to sleep. I bargain with God and even promise to give up on all sorts of things if he will only reach down from heaven and knock me unconscious until it is time for me to wake up. The funny thing about God is that he is not easily persuaded and my foolish promises must have had him rolling with laughter. Either that or he was fast asleep. I started my day… at 3:30… AM!!! Try and top that! If you can’t, well go right back and pity little ol’ me.

Ok… lets get down to the more serious stuff for a bit. I have a job interview lined up for tomorrow evening after work. I am excited about having the interview, but I am approaching it with a certain amount of caution and skepticism as I am as yet not one hundred percent sure of what is expected of me. I guess all of that will be made clear to me when I meet with my prospective bosses. What I do know is that the company I am interviewing for, has been in existence for about 2 years. This in itself scares me a little as I know, and there are many examples of this happening, that many small companies tend to do well initially and then away fizzle in to nothingness. A small startup company, based in Cape Town, who in a very short space of time has become a significant player in the industry they operate in. They appear to have a pretty solid client base and a lot more that are willing to come on board, as I have discovered and have been told. Yep, I’ve been doing a bit of research of my own too. It is an advantage to be prepared and at least have an idea of who you are dealing with. According to the company representative who contacted me, the number of clients in the Gauteng region has grown significantly in the last year and now represents a large portion of their portfolio. With the expansion, the increased workload and demand on their resources, it has become necessary to set up offices in Johannesburg. They are no longer able to see to and fulfill the needs of their Gauteng-based clients out of the offices Cape Town. A few names were mentioned and based on what I know, these are major companies in South Africa. They need solid around the clock representation in Johannesburg that would be able to look after these clients. And that apparently... is where I come in. They are basically looking for someone who can set up (from scratch) and run the office in Johannesburg from an operational and marketing perspective. It is an exciting prospect and a great opportunity, one that I can exploit and leverage to my own and the company’s advantage. Hard work and long hours are the least of my concerns and have never been an issue for me. I am however naturally skeptical and before I make any decisions there are lots of questions that needs to be answered an many more assurances that need to be made. My entire professional career has been spent in working for large multi-nationals. Job and financial security has never been something I needed to worry or be concerned about. There are many advantages/disadvatages to working for a multi-national, and so far I have been able to swing the pendulum in my favour. Lucky, perhaps? Who knows? There are an increasing number of people out there who swear by th fact that working for a large company is not all that it is made out to be. There is also a growing trend globally and in South Africa towards moving to smaller businesses. Small is the new big ala Seth Godin and other ppl in the know. The concept appeals to me and has for quite a while. Perhaps the time has come to sit down and seriously look at the options. Anyway, enough said for now. The meeting/interview will hopefully reveal all and help me to make an informed decision. What more could I ask for than to be given an opportunity to do just that?

Some day soon I am going to learn to do things the right way and NOT make an ass out of myself. In my defense, I ought to be able to get away with the same things others seemingly get away with. You know what the worst thing about being pulled over by the traffic police is? The flashing blue lights and that uber loud and annoying siren! I ask you, could it get any worse?! You hear that siren, your blood freezes and every fiber in your body goes into shock… the kind of paralysing shock that says I-am-so-dead. They may as well have a big flashing neon arrow on the roof of the car with the word TRAFFIC OFFENDER written all over it, pointing directly at you. It is Saturday afternoon and I am at the corner of Katherine and West when I realise that I am in the wrong lane. The lane I am in is for cars turning left only and I should be in the lane for cars turning right. An honest mistake and one that is very easily rectified. Just proceed to the next intersection, turn the car around, head back to the intersection you came from and get into the right road. Not so easy when there is a NO U-TURN sign at the next intersection. Yep, the universe is conspiring again! So I look around and I see there are only two other cars at the intersection, no cars behind me, but more importantly, THERE ARE NO ONCOMING CARS! I figure perhaps I could make a quickie u-turn. Who will ever know? It would be like the tree falling in the forest and nobody hearing… uh… yeah, perhaps not quite that easy. And if by chance someone were to notice, there’d be no harm. I would get back to where I should be, and in the end that is all that counts. (The little guy sitting on my shoulder is a charm). Yeah, I know, I prolly deserve to be bitch-slapped, so quit shaking your head and waving your finger at me. What’s with the holier-than-thou attitude anyway… don’t tell me you have not broken a dozen or two traffic rules? Besides, the Chitster is genetically programmed to do stoopid things. The traffic light goes green, I allow the other cars to move and make my “teensy-weensy” illegal turn. Whooo- peee… I made it… or so I thought. The next minute, all hell breaks loose and there are sirens and flashing blue lights everywhere. Where the hell do these police cars come from? How the hell do they manage to materialize out of friggin’ nowhere… like the goddamn genie from Aladdin’s’ lamp. And it is not only the police… suddenly the intersection is filled with cars and as if they had been summoned to witnesses to your heinous crime. And they all give you that look… the one that says, “You should be ashamed of yourself”. Oh man, how embarrassing! The cops of course take their time in writing out the ticket (so that more ppl can see you). They walk around the car and ask you questions that are designed to get you to implicate yourself. “Good afternoon, sir. Are you aware that you just made an illegal u-turn?” Don't you just love how they phrase the questions? What could I say to them? No and deny that the sign never existed? Where is all that crap about the tree falling in the forest when you need it? A fine of R800.00 later and with the self esteem trampled to bits, I finally manage to get away from there. No more, I tell you! No more!

Family… can’t live with them and can’t do without them either. The spring school holidays started today and my 13 year old hormonal nephew (He who showers with shampoo) asked whether he can come and stay with me for the next ten days. Grooan!!!!! Don’t get me wrong I love the kid and he makes me laugh all the time, but I don’t know if I am up to the responsibility and the whole “loving uncle” routine. My sister is only to glad to have him out of the way and she’s been phoning me almost daily to ask when I am coming to fetch him. I reckon she just do not know what to do with him and the thought of him at home for all hours while she is at work, terrifies the hell out of her. He's a lot like me, and if I were her, I would take out insurance on all my belongings and my life for that matter. The other day, and she still has not recovered from the shock, she came home with a workmate and found "Mister” watching TV in the lounge… practically nude and with nothing but a towel around his waist… with the girl from next door. She was fully clothed, thank God. Yep, apparently he had a shower and she came to visit just as he came out of the shower. He didn’t want to leave her alone by herself so he stayed with her instead. Hey, hey, hey… it is plausible! I don’t want to think the worst of the kid. These things happen on TV all the time. Why just the other night there was this show on TV where… uhm... nope, that did not happen. We are having fairly hot weather up in JHB, their aircon is on the blink and the swimming pool is not ready for swimming. So when you feel hot, you take a shower and when a friend comes by to visit, you wrap a towel around your waist and watch TV with them. Yeah, that bit is new to me too. I would have preferred if he had gone and put some clothes on, but what the heck, it is not like he planned it. Shame on his mother for coming home early and the girl for visting, unannounced! According to my sister, he was completely unfazed (He's either innocent or the kid has nerves of steel!) about the arrival of her and the workmate. He merely got up and walked to his room, leaving the girl friend with his mother. He got dressed and came back a short while later and swears that nothing out of the ordinary had happened! My response was, “What you expected the kid to do, continue to watch TV and pretend his mother is not around? At least he's not walking around in the backyard exposing himself to the neighbours (something my mates and I did do once... long ago) " I could see her brain going into overdrive at that thought and then she accused me of not taking the matter seriously. I may mention that my sister tends to overreact a tad and may at times behave like a drama queen. The workmate thought it was hilarious. Good on her! I suspect though my sister may be looking for another job. She has issues with being embarrassed. Of course she blames this entire episode on me and swears by my deceased grandmother that his behavior is typical of me when I was a teenager. (Huh... how did that happen?). Funnily, I don’t ever remember prancing around in a towel when my friends came over to visit. Talk about getting the facts wrong. Now she wants me to take him for the next ten days and talk some sense into his head. She reckons since I “caused it”, I need to fix it. Grrrrrr!!! Can you see what I am up against? I also mentioned that perhaps all she needs to do is put her foot down and lay down the rules, but she reckons a man’s influence is what is needed. And I am THAT man, it seems. She’s divorced and the husband has little or no contact with the kids. I still think he is merely pushing his boundaries and his behaviour, although a bit odd (ok, very odd), is nothing to worry about. Jirre… I don’t know whether to laugh or jump off a bridge. A teenage boy whose brain and common sense seems to be on the blink, in my care. In spite of my better judgment, I have agreed to let him stay over. Now I have to hide the shampoo and move the TV into his room.

Never, and I mean.... NEVER assume you are charming and smooth when you ask the cute waitress called Rosemary if the LAMB CHOPS WITH ROSEMARY means that she is having dinner with you. Especially, when she has been on her feet for most of the evening and is speeding past you with four plates of quesadillas perfectly balanced on her arms, all the way from her wrists to her biceps. On both arms. The amount of humour and charm one can take is apparently directly proportional to the number and size of the blisters on your feet and the hours you’ve been working. And when she starts whispering and pointing you out to her colleagues, it may be a good idea to start thinking about having your dinner elsewhere. You never know what may be mixed in with that delightful green salad or the glass of ice water you have just ordered. And the lamb chops… well, they could very likely be the left-overs from yesterday’s lunch buffet. You are better off eating at the blue-collar take away around the corner chewing on the ass of a rabid dog. You could not enjoy the meal if it came for free and with all the drinks you can have… on the house! When single, misguided and testosterone meets tired and cute but humourless waitress… the outcome is seldom pretty.

Who hasn't questioned a choice they’ve made or wondered what their life would be like today if something that had happened in the past had turned out differently. That inconsequential decision, for example, that led you to meet the love of your life or that job that lead to financial independence and success. Sometimes, small choices change everything. The boss and I had THE meeting yesterday (Again! Leave me be already!)to discuss my “future” with the company and revisit my decision to leave at the end of this year. Actually he had a discussion with me, because in my mind that ship had already sailed. I had said all I wanted to say to him the day I walked into his office with my decision to resign. And having reached that point, I prefer not to be confronted by the alternatives, the pros and cons and the “what if’s”. Yep, I am an ostrich and sometimes, just sometimes, the world seems a whole lot better when you bury your head in the sand. Admittedly and to some extend, I am being cowardly about it and do not really want to face up to the reality of what my life may be like a few months from now. I tell myself I have plenty of time to figure things out. The naked truth is, I do not have the luxury of time. I may be out of work come December 2005 with no steady income, etc. The adventurer in me reminds me that there is world of opportunities out there and new things for me to do. But adventure and misplaced romantic notions do not pay the bills nor does it put food on the table. When I walked into my boss’ office two months earlier, high on my own bravado and perceived self-worth, it took a lot of guts. I had spent many long hours mulling over my decision to move on and I have thought about it even more since then and there are times, now, when I doubt myself. When I discussed the decision to quit with my father a few days prior to that meeting in July, I thought he was going to crucify me. My old man comes from a generation of people where providing for his family was a man’s ultimate goal. There was no time for dreams and frivolities. In his day, a man had to go out there and do what he needed to do, not only for himself but because other people depended on him. He is a no-nonsense, tell-it-like-it-is man and the only person that can get him to listen is my mother. What he lacks in book knowledge he made up for by an abundance of practical know-how and, more importantly, a kind heart. He looked me in the eye and said, “You go right ahead and do what you feel is right. Life isn’t very long and you are the only person who can put a measure to your success”. Knowing my dad, I expected a one hour lecture from him… but he didn’t. At most I expected him to tell me to let go of my foolish childish notions and be a man. None of that. He just left it up to me. Wow! [flashback to the Invasion Of The Body Snatchers] So I sat there and listened to my boss going on and on about the job market, unmeployment and the scarcity of jobs, the bright future I have with the company, how I should not make hasty decisions and about the new position coming up in my department. All of which makes perfect sense and yet none of it really spoke to me on my level. Ok... at some point I may have spaced out and floated away on a bubble to a planet inhabited by female warriors and came back just in time to hear him finish off his inspiring soliloquy. But mostly... I listened. What he doesn’t seem to understand is that I am no longer happy working here. The job is no longer a challenge and that I do not want to work as a marketer all my life. I don’t want to end up banging my secretary ten years from now because I am tired of life and need excitement. I do not want to look back in a few years time and regret that I have played it safe and sold out to my insecurities. I don’t want to work here because of all the reasons he just mentioned. I don’t give a rats ass about the prospects and the security and all the crap he’s trying to shove down my throat. I am u-n-h-a-p-p-y. All the security and money in the world cannot buy my happiness. So I wait patiently for him to finish and I thank him for the time and the support. I jokingly tell him that the next time I need advice, I will ask for it. My decision to leave stands and that I will be leaving the company at the end of this year. Do I have brass balls? I doubt it… not since the last time I checked. Am I a delusional fuckwit living a wet dream? More than likely. Am I sticking to my decision to leave because I am too proud to retracting my resignation? Not a fucking chance! I have my pride, but I’ll get down on my hands and knees and do whatever I have to do while I’m down there, if I have to. I don’t have a fuggin' clue what next year will bring and what the bloody hell I may be doing. And that there is a pretty humbling and sobering thought, let me tell you. This is scary $hit! All I know is that whatever it is… I won’t be doing it by working here. [There's the soft ruffle of wings and I watch my last chance to change my mind fly out the the window]

Someone sent me this joke by e-mail. I thought it was kinda funny. No prizes for guessing that I failed the test. What can I say... I don't have very many MENSA (if any at all) moments, especially not before 9 in the morning. I am taking the room with a view... the one in the corner. Anyone out there care to join me? During a visit to the mental asylum, a visitor asked the Director what is the criteria which defines a patient to be institutionalised. "Well" said the Director "we fill up a bathtub, then we offer a teaspoon, a teacup and a bucket to the patient and ask him/her to empty the bathtub". OK, here's your test. 1. Would you use the teaspoon? 2. Would you use the teacup? 3. Would you use the bucket? "Oh, I understand" said the visitor "A normal person would use the bucket because it's bigger than the spoon or teacup". "No" said the Director, "a normal person would pull the plug! Do you want a room with or without a view?"

Friday was my first experience with paintball, and it was more fun than I had anticipated it to be. I’m sure I looked like an complete and utter doofus in my camouflage kit, but what the heck, you only live once. Still, being a doofus was a step up from the guys who passionately believed themselves to be bad-asses, despite the fact that all they were about to do was traipse around the bushes firing plastic balls that exploded in little spurts of green paint. I have bruises all over my arms from taking hits, although by my own admission, getting shot did not hurt as much as it was rumored too. Except of course for that one shot that hit me on the knuckles of my right hand. That one stung like a bitch and awoke in me the lust to kill. Someone on my own team also managed to shoot me in the ass as I was sneaking forward, and I am not too sure it was an accident. We were split into two teams and we played numerous rounds of Capture the Flag and variations on the theme. More often than not the game ended by one team taking out everyone on the other side. Screw the flag, killing is a helluva lot more fun! Taking out your opponent only meant hitting them once, but when you’re nervous and don’t want to get shot, you shoot till the guy cries out in agony. This means that you usually take somewhere between 3-10 hits before they’ll stop shooting. There was a lot of “OW…GAAAAAHD…I’M HIT! OUCH! STOP SHOOTING! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH I MEAN IT, YOU BASTARD! I AM SO GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU!!!!” going around. Oh yeah…. serious fun! The stuff corporate take-overs are made of. The course master advised us that taking the immediate offensive and charging en masse was the best strategy; it took us a while to realize that this was, in fact, a fantastically bad idea designed to make the rounds go faster. ASSHOLE! While some people tend to find a hiding place while waiting for the enemy to reveal themselves, I discovered that I am more adapt to seeking out the enemy, getting close to them and then shooting the crap out of them. And it has sweet all to do with being macho and brave. My philosophy is that if I am going to get killed, I’ll be damned if I ‘m going to wait around for it to happen. The guns are difficult to aim — if you’re firing single shots, it’s almost impossible to hit someone at long range. If however you get close enough, you can pretty much take out anyone with a well aimed shot. It is amazing how differently people approach the game. There are those who are just scared of being shot at and who will go into hiding. Others believe themselves to be invincible. They are the gung-ho players, the terminator wannabees, who will blast away at fellow humans with no regard to their own safety or survival. Hahaha... too much television and movies can seriously impair your hold on reality A few others are just in it for the fun. No matter how many times they get hit, they’ll be laughing and enjoying themselves. The worst kind however is the sore losers, the highly competitive fuckwits who take serious offense at being hit. These guys are off the bloody Richter scale. I hit one guy early on in the first game and every game we played after that, he made it his mission to seek and take me out. How friggin' crazy is that! He was so angry at me that he missed the objective of the game completely. Don’t think we’ll be holding hands soon. A weekend later, I am still a little sore from all that crouching and diving and general bustling about. I had a lot of fun, but I do not think I will be rushing out to try my hand at it soon… at least not until after the welt on my shoulder stops smarting. Real end-of-the-empire stuff, isn’t it?

Yesterday’s team activity was a riot (it truly was) and I had fun. A bunch of overworked, unfit and exercise deprived adults competing on a mini-obstacle course. By no means a pretty sight! Jumping through hoops, climbing ropes, climbing trees, carrying logs, traversing the river and lots of running. As few ppl actually fell into the river. It seemed like fun, so I jumped in too. Just slap me on the side if my head and call me lemming! Hell, what is a bush experience worth if you have not experienced the bush? I have not been this active since I left high school and I loved it. Working out at the gym is nothing compared to this. Anyway, my… make that, our team won. It may not mean much, but being on a losing team sucks… period… no matter the activity. Oh, the boss tripped and fell, banged his head on tree stump and now he is wearing a “mummy” bandana. No serious injury, but he has a nasty cut above the eye. It dampened the enthusiasm somewhat, although I suspect a few people were thoroughly delighted with the outcome. Hehehe... We went on a game drive at dusk to see if we could catch a glimpse of the Big Five. I can’t say I was too thrilled about the idea. One could hardly see the animals in the fading light and most of them ran away and hid when they heard the 4x4 approaching. As a consolation, they provided us wih plenty of drinks on the drive, so we were all in a good mood by the end of it. Only one of the Big Five, a leopard, was sighted... much to the delight of the crew and we proceeded to celebrate the sighting with lots of pomp and cheer. Which could explain why all the other animals went into hiding. The airline crew left yesterday at lunch time. There were a lot of sad(?) good-byes and promises to stay in touch. As they were boarding, the girl from the bar walked up to me and said, “So WHEN am I going to get that kiss?” I said, “How about now?”, and then I moved in, pulled her close and kissed her. I reckon I owed her one. Hell, I owed myself one ! I think I am in the clear. And whoever wants to crucify me with a lecture on honesty, trust and fidelity, call me a skank for now, then invite me around for drinks and let’s have a debate. There were applause and "oohs" from her mates, so I assume they were in on it. It was nice though and given different circumstances… uh yeah… lets not dwell on that one. People were a lot quieter last night than on Wednesday. We had outdoor bush braai/spit. I swear they gave us warthog to eat, but I have no way of proving it. The temperature was a bit nippy, so we had to wear warm clothes. We ended up in the bar… AGAIN! What else is there to do in the middle of nowhere? Even the animals know to gather around the waterhole, so why shouldn’t we do the same. The boss and I had a talk about my future. [ Bang Bang... you're dead!] He asked me again to stay on. I wasn’t actually prepared for this conversation nor did I want to have it, so I asked that we continue it on Monday at the office. I promised to give it some thought. I actually realised that I am ok with what I know about him… his secret, that is. This is prolly the reason why I have not told anybody. It has little to do with restraint… I don’t give a continental x-y-z, if you know what I mean. The initial shock aside, it is just NOT that important to me. Who cares who he’s screwing and for what reasons? I have enough of my own shit to deal with. I don’t need to carry someone else’s crap on my shoulders. A bunch of us ended up in the hot tub/Jacuzzi last night. I wore dark glasses and did not see a-n-y-t-h-i-n-g... haha. It is strange the sides of people’s personalities you get to see when they are away from home and out of their “office” skins. I am not sure I that I am overly comfortable with “seeing” the other sides of my colleagues. At some point it just freaks me out and there are some things I am better off not knowing at all. [Shiver] "So enough with the character “strip-tease”, Boomer… it ain’t a pretty sight anymore!! Let’s draw the line in the sand and agree that you looked much better when you had the mask on." (Incidentally, I discovered they have a small “business centre” and I spent an hour catching up with the outside world. Lame... I know. I need to know when to pull the plug on technology) The team breakaway ends today at 4 pm and then it is back to reality. We have a two-hour paintball session lined up – I hope they give me the paintball equivalent of an AK47. Couldn't find the napalm, so paint will have to do. There's a BIG celebration on this weekend. The gf has her birthday on Sunday. Yep, we are both Virgos! I'm planning a party (or a disaster?) and have a lot of last-minute things to finish off before then. Adios, see you on the flip-side of the weekend!

I am in a melancholy, almost reflective mood, after last night’s drink-fest, so excuse the lack of shenanigans in my post, which by the way, I am typing up in Word as I listen to some guy going over the highlights ytd (year to date). There’s also a song in my head and I can’t seem to shake it, “I like the way you move” by the Bodyrockers. Individually, I like most people I meet, but when you put a bunch of likable individuals in a group, I will hate most everybody. Not making sense, am I? I believe that the more people you put in a room, the sillier they behave and the lower their collective intelligence becomes. The very best places to observe this phenomenon have a lot in common: bars, conferences and churches. Last night at the bar was no exception. Yesterday was a long day and we had an even longer night. We finally managed to crawl into bed at 3am. And judging from people’s faces at breakfast… the majority of us are hung over. I am feeling extremely fragile… like a spider’s web on a very windy day. Hopefully the team building activity after lunch will re-energize me. Dinner last night was a swift affair. The food was great and there were lots of lively conversation, but I think people were in a hurry to get to the bar. We needed to unwind and dinner was yet another formality that we needed to get out of the way. The airline posse had dinner at around the same time as we did. There was a lot of rubbernecking and ogling going on… including yours truly. I may be in serious relationship, but I am not dead. And lets be honest here, the girls are bloody gorgeous. The bar is a typical bush bar. Quaint and cosy are the words I would use to describe it. It boasts a fairly good selection of drinks and is within walking distance from the sleeping quarters. Pool and foosball tables, a tiny dance area, a juke box and friendly staff. It is also the place where the game rangers hang out so there are lotsa stories to be told. And being the macho men they are, the single girls descended on them We, and by that I mean the ppl of my company, hit the bar first… and people immediately went into their little groups. The boys headed for the pool tables and the girls surrounded the juke box. I’m not much of a pool player, so two of me buds and I sauntered over to the barman and ordered a couple of beers. I don’t normally drink beer, but I thought I’d start off slow. I find people behaviours in bars particularly odd. While engaging in their respective conversations, the volume of each group rises exponentially in relation to a certain defining trait. The serious drinkers get louder and louder the more alcohol they ingest and the drunker they get. The saintly ones who rarely drink and are only doing so because they are at the conference, get more serious (and thus louder) the deeper their fear of the unknown, desperately reaching for a higher power to answer their longings and listen to their problems. Unfortunately I don’t think God listen to people in bars. My favorites are the ones who become holier-than-thou and more outspoken the more they consume. As if the alcohol will help them to ward off that which they fear most. I want to start a napalm fire in the swimming pool to scorch and drown them in. We all profess to be at the bar to have fun, to get to know ppl and to socialize. Mostly I think we are there because we don’t want to be seen as outcasts. We desperately need to belong. Everybody just wants to be popular. I am just as guilty of being a pretentious fuckhead as those I ridicule. But unlike the others, I know whe to stop pretending… this is a bar and I am also there to get drunk. There… I said it … so sue me. The whole mood of the bar changes when the airline crew arrives. They are ppl who do not know, so we sober up a little and appear to want to make a good impression. They are louder than we are… and more beautiful too. They speak a language I do not understand. But the accents are cute and we all smile when we look in their direction. Someone throws a few coins into the jukebox and we are bombarded by Pink’s "Lets get the party started". I am always dumbfounded by the utter lack of taste displayed in selecting the most popular choices on the jukebox. However, this particular song seems to have the desired effect and people start to sway to the thumping and screeching of the music. My mate, Gavin, a single guy, manages to strike up a conversation with one of the airline girls. It seems this is just the encouragement the rest of the single guys needed and they are over there like a pack of wolves. Admittedly I feel a slight pang of resentment. The other girls are talking to the rangers and some of the airline guys, most of whom I assume are gay, but let me not stereotype. As the evening wears on, the booze flows freely, conversations heat up and become louder. A group of girls are gyrating on the dance floor, g-strings peaking out of their hipsters. Someone’s smoking pot – I can smell it. Fuelled by the atmosphere and the alcohol, the “usual suspects” hook up and disappear into the night. Yep, the universe has us exactly where it wants us to be. I’m having the time of my life. I have a smile as wide as a leprechaun getting a blowjob from Tinkerbell, a Martini in one hand and I am sitting with a group of ppl consisting of work colleagues and airline people. We are talking about Katrina (yeah, go figure), South Africa and the high flying lives of flight attendants. Boo-Ya… we are in the zone baby!! I am talking to one of the airline girls. She is incredibly sexy and she likes me. Then some drunken son-of-a-jackass comes up behind me and asks me loudly when I was going to kiss her. I am shellshocked! Fuck this! My silence condemns me. The girl feels uncomfortable as do I. I’ve had too much to drink and I and I didn't like being put on the spot. The fact that I all of sudden turned into a prude doesn't help either. I tell the jackass to fuck off before I bury my foot up his ass. Strangely enough his comment brings me back down to earth. I apologise to the girl and leave the rest of my crowd where they are sitting. They all look at me in wonder. "You're leaving? It's only 1:00!" "Yes. I like air. Have fun and goodnight." I am no fun when I feel guilty. On my way out, I run into the boss, two other marketing managers and a couple of female colleagues. They had decided to have an after party drinkathon in Bob’s room. Fool that I am and nursing a somewhat bruised(?) ego, I agree to join them. I drink two shots of liquor, lay on my back on the floor, and then I laugh at the ceiling for a while. Really. I ask one of the girls to rub my temples. Rest assured… Nothing further happened! Just before 3 am I get back to my room and sleep it off.

It is the afternoon tea break and I have 20 minutes to type this… piece of cake. Before you mumble to yourself WTF is Chitty doing blogging from the game reserve, my eagerness to share this with you will become apparent as you read on. The next update may be days from now… so pipe it… and let me spin my web of intrigue. I exited the company parking lot at precisely 12:05 and headed north in the direction of Pretoria or Snor City as I heard someone refer to it recently. (For non-Saffas: snor=mustache… you do the math). It’s a glorious sunny day so I open the sunroof and put pedal to metal. I reckon I can miss the midday traffic in the Midrand area by going north on to the R21. Good idea – however a well placed traffic camera puts a damper on my mood as I catch the flashlight out of the corner of my eye as I zooooom pass at just under 160 km/h. Fuckit!! What can I say, I am a speed-hog… like so many law-abiding South Africans. To soothe my conscience I turn the volume on the CD player way up. It’s working and before I am singing along and a smile returns to my face. Life's great! At Pretoria I take the N1 north and head towards Petersburg on the toll road. What is it with the Bakwena Platinum toll road? Freakin’ toll plazas everywhere you look. How much money does it take to maintain a national road these days? It’s like a 380km dual carriageway casino with the toll plazas as the slot machines. Gimme… gimme… gimme… gimme all your hard-earned cash. Suddenly I regret not taking the bus. Anyway, it takes me less than an hour to get to the game farm (~100km from Snor City). I almost get lost when I get of the highway, but luckily I run into a friendly oom and tannie and they point me in the right direction (Note to self… do not trust a map downloaded from the Internet). A few km’s on a grondpad (dirt road) and I am finally there. I’m just in time for lunch too. I missed out on the morning session and the boss assures me that he will update me over lunch (see the eager anticipation in my left eye). The game farm is well… there are no better words for it… spectacularly beautiful!! More than 12 000 hectares of soft rolling hills teaming with bird and wildlife. Accommodation ranges from self-catering chalets to en-suite lodge rooms and rustic bush camps. Haha… I don’t think I’ll be sleeping in one of the bush camps very soon! I’m a city boy, ok... that says it all. When I sleep outside I prefer not to have wild animals roaming around. Furthermore there sre tennis courts, a swimming pool, a squash court, game drives, horse-riding, hiking trails, a restaurant, a boma and a bar (vital). Within 5 minutes of my arrival, an absolutely crucial tidbit of information is passed on to me by my cohorts. This information is so crucial it could actually make or break... ahem... the breakaway. Get this: WE ARE NOT THE ONLY GUESTS AT THE GAME FARM. A WELL KNOWN EUROPEAN AIRLINE HAS ORGANISED A STAY-OVER FOR THEIR AIRLINE PERSONNEL. Whoo-bloody-hoo!! I am not going to go into too much detail, but let the imagination go, think of the possibilties and you will understand my enthusiasm upon learning this. They are apparently on their way to Victoria Falls and this is a stop-over. The potential for fun and games, soap opera-ish antics … and DISASTER are endless!! Can it get any better than this? I am so happy right now I can cry. (As Terri pointed out, I am a pillar of virtue... and may I add... compassion, so my tears of joy are as innocent as they come) Thank you, God for making them invite me along!!!

Wednesday morning and I am in a very good mood… despite the fact that my life, for now, seems to have spiraled out of control. It has been a hectic week thus far and will continue to be for the next few days at least. The team building getaway starts today. The majority of the participants left this morning at 7 am. They looked like a bunch of school children going on an educational tour... hehehe. Pity I couldn’t be with them. I know a great drinking game that one can play on a bus. I am only leaving at 12 noon, because I have a few last-minute things to tie up, such as finishing those research reports that I’ve been bitching about in previous posts. Serves me right for procrastinating when I had the time. The getaway is at a private Big Five Game Reserve in the Limpopo province. Every one is very excited and as much as I try not to, the enthusiasm is contagious and admittedly I am looking forward to it too. I just hope I do not end up as dinner to a pack of lions. I been told that the lodge is hooked up, so when I get the time I may blog from there and fill you in on all the scandalous details. And I know there will be plenty of that around! I am also taking me bag of party favours with me... need I say more! The birthday was last week. The dreaded family dinner did not disappoint. It was a whopper! I swear my family dropped a few new ones on me this year, just to make it more interesting than it usually is. The weekend party was an absolute blast. I think I’ll settle for turning 30 every year from now on. We had great weather this weekend… 28 degrees C on Saturday. It kinda feels like we went straight from winter to summer. Last I heard spring is still hitchhiking her way across the Serengeti. I had my first outdoor swim this weekend too… pseudo bravado brought on by a childish dare, the party and the omni-present Absolut. The water was cold... really cold… my body parts (some more than others) rebelled against the cold water with such intensity they wanted to cannibalise thrmselves in order to get warmer. An invigorating experience, but oh so very very stupid. One of these days I am going to act more responsibly, I promise. I will blog some more when things have calmed down. Right now I have to find 15 PVC A4 folders, A4 Indexing cards and tinted frosted sheets. Hold me back, the excitement is killing me!

1. How NOT to impress the ladies
2. Apparently this guy does not have a problem with doing that. Hahaha… what is this country coming to? I only have two questions:
• He is held up at gunpoint and still he manages to do it three times?
• Is this a fantasy come true or what?
Read here to know more.
3. This guy is just pissed off because he did not get as lucky as the one above.

Now let's all laugh and enjoy what's left of Thursday!

Every Wednesday morning, we have a departmental status meeting where tons of rubbish and mumbo-jumbo are thrown around. Mostly it is an opportunity for people to share with others what a great job they are doing and have your 15 minutes of fame on a small on a scale. Normally I am pretty good at keeping up my end, but this morning, I was completely out of it. Now, I know my job and the industry I work in and honestly speaking, I know it very well. I get my work done efficiently and on time and I pride myself that others can come to me when they need help. But every now and again I slip up and allow things get out of control, especially when it comes to things I do not enjoy. The meeting usually starts with the manager giving us feedback on the business and departmental issues. Each person in turn gets to speak about issues affecting them and where they are in terms of projects, work, etc. Manager: "Well Peter, how is your workload? Any issues you’d like to share with us?” And we treated to 6 minutes of action packed commentary crammed with marketing/financial jargon that in actual fact means very little. Don’t get me wrong, the guy is good at his job. I just hate how he postures himself when it comes to these meetings. [In the meantime I pretend to take notes while drawing little stickmen on my notepad] The boss is obviously pleased with the update and he congratulates Peter on the speed and efficiency of his operation. Next up is Donovan. (He’s the guy who took over my portfolio when I resigned from my position) Donovan: "Well, I've mostly been focusing on... (7 minutes of stuff; lots of emphasis on net revenue, gross margin, market share, etc.). He uses lot of acronyms and I sometimes wonder if he makes those up prior to coming to the meeting. The boss seems to like what he says so I pretend that I am interested too. I have in depth knowledge of what he's working on and I ask a few pertinent questions. [In the meantime, I have progressed to drawing little stick girlfriends for the stickmen] Manager: "Excellent work, Don. Chitty, how about you?" Chitty: "Well, I have completed my analysis on the new concepts research that was completed in August. The results are looking good (lying). My report will be ready on Friday. As soon I have entered the data onto a spreadsheet and applied the formulas, I will sit down with the statistician to confirm the math and the conclusions reached in my analysis" There’s long period of complete silence, as they wait for me to expand on that, but I can't, because I am basically lying my ass off. I’ve been procrastinating since the research was completed and I do not even have topline results to share with them. I am dead in the water. Peter: "Hey Chitty, they’ve just completed research on the same concepts in LatAm (short for Latin America) I'm guessing he wants me to get in touch with my counterpart in Sao Paolo and get feedback from them. He may as well have quacked like a duck, because I don't hear a word he's saying. All I can think is, “dammit, how did I get stuck with doing this boring market research job?” Chitty: "Uh, yeah, thanks Peter. I will give [insert name] a call right after. It will be great to get input from them on how the concepts fared over there. The two markets overlap significantly in the areas covered by the research. I am sure the LatAm results will back my initial findings. It will also help us to adjust and optimize the concepts for maximum market potential and to re-evaluate the marketing mix. [Oooh, my head hurts!] Peter: "Great. I'm sure [insert name] would love to compare notes and get your input. Chitty: "You got it. [write "this shit is bananas!" ala Gwen Steffani on notepad] Manager: "Also, ... (more white noise). I throw in the occasional “sure, will do” and "ok" and nod when I'm supposed to. [I repeatedly bounce my pen off the notepad. Whoo-hoo! Every single one of my stickmen now has a bad case of acne]. "So, can you get schedule a full presentation of the results when you get a chance? Early next week will suit me fine." Chitty: “Say no more… already done! I am all over it. [Underline "this shit is bananas” on the notepad… twice, and draw a little smiley face next to it] We move on to the next person. Once again, ladies and gentleman, the Chitster is in a league all of his own!

I had a call from my doctor’s office yesterday. It has been almost a year since my last check-up and perhaps I would like to schedule an appointment. Huh? As I listen to the receptionist talking, I think to myself, "why the hell would I want to see the doctor? We aren't best buddies and the only time I want to see him is whenI am really sick... no, make that... d-y-i-n-g, thank you very much". But then I remember my mate who died of cancer earlier this year and we schedule an appointment for the day after tomorrow. I don’t like my doctor. He’s been around since the beginning of time and he is prolly the worst doctor on the planet. Although I cannot say that with certainty, because there is prolly a witchdoctor in some remote Amazon village that could possibly be worse than he is. However, he is been our family doctor and has known me since my teens and I am just too bloody lazy to go and find myself a younger doctor. The best or the worst thing (depending on how you look at it) about going to him is the fact that he always has young female nurses working for him… reasonably attractive in their mid to late 20's. The nurses would normally conduct all the routine checks such as measuring blood pressure, heart rate, breathing, cholestrol, etc. Now I find the thought of an attractive young woman attending to me in public, reasonably discomforting. Firstly, there's the whole "sex on the brain" thing to cope with and secondly, you are required to put on one of those friggin’ “now-you-can-see-my-ass” hospitals gowns. You’d think with all the advances in modern medicine they’d come up with something better than a garment that exposes your entire backside to the world. The last time I went to him, I was checked by a nurse called Madeleine. Even though she seemed pretty ok, I immediately tensed up when she came into the room. We talked for a bit… mostly small talk and stupid jokes. I asked her about her training, how long she’s been a nurse and what it's like working for the old doctor. Is she single and what are the chances that I can get her phone number by the time she finished checking my heart rate… you know, crazy stuff like that. Yep, things went pretty well up to the point when she asked, "Can you get up on the examination table and lie down on your back, please?" Fuckit! Now I am "sommmer die moer in". When they ask you to lie on your back, it is usually the point when they check the abdomen and the “equipment”. I could feel the breeze blowing up my gown as I swung my legs onto the table. Dammit doctor Levine, where in God's name are you? I’ll be damned if I am going to let this nurse check the jewels. Get your scrawny ass in here… pronto! So I lay down, and as she prepared to raise my gown, she asked: Nurse: "Are you wearing underwear?" Me: "Nope" Nurse: “Do you wear underwear at all?" Me: "I normally do, but I knew I was coming here for my physical, so I decided not to wear any today” She smiled appreciatively and she gave me the best blowjob ever. Ok, ok, ok... !!! That part never actually happened. But it could've... couldn't it? She left and dr. Levine came into the office shortly after. He did the embarrassing part of the physical and asked the questions about my sex-life that leaves me staring at the ceiling and praying for Armageddon to come. “How many sexual partners have you had in the last year?” (None of your bloody business, old man!) Overall, I was in amazingly good health for a little nipper my age. My mental/emotional health is a different story and last time I checked, the dissertation on what makes me tick, is still a work in progress. Doctors’ surgeries and nurses. Such fun times!

Well, I guess owe a post on Friday’s much anticipated hippie party. And to use a 60’s phrase… It was totally bitchen! Yep, Mrs [B] or Mama Cas, as she was called on the day, went the whole nine yards and she did not disappoint. The decorations alone were spectacular. There were beads hanging in all the doorways and coloured light bulbs in all the lamps and sockets. The walls were adorned with large neon posters declaring “Flower power”, “Make love not war”, and “Peace”. Daisy flowers, smiley faces, peace signs and all manner of hippie symbols were spread around the pub and entertainment area. Honey-combed paper balls hung from the ceiling... she even had a friggin disco ball! The curls were big, the Afros even bigger. We defied gravity and Newton’s First Law did not have a chance in hell. Never in my life had I seen so many white ppl with Afros (scary!). Strangely enough none of the blacks opted to don Afros. There were kaftans, paisley shirts, bell-bottoms, tight pants, short skirts, long hair, false eyelashes, painted faces, John Lennon sunglasses, fake pearls, mood rings and love beads. We sipped drinks out of brightly coloured Perspex glasses and smoked neon coloured cigarettes. The party picked up speed pretty fast. It started at around two and when I arrived at 4pm, the moon was in the seventh house, Jupiter had aligned with Mars and the Age of Aquarius had already dawned. Whoo-hoo! Welcome to Margarita-ville baby! Musically, all the greats were there…The Beatles, Joni Mitchell, The Doors, The Stones, Frank Zappa, the Mamas and the Papas, Donovan, etc. We grooved to the psychedelic 60s pop tunes and encouraged by the dj, threw our hands in the air and waved it around like we just didn’t care. Pretty lame, I know, but I wasn’t going to fight the feeling! Even stranger to me was the fact that some ppl actually knew the words to the songs. So much for my theory that the young people of then were too stoned to remember much. Surprise, Surprise… there was no scandalous behavior!! Most people, the Chitster included, were extremely well behaved. Mrs [B] runs a tight ship and I guess the sheer size of her in that kaftan was enough to make any wannabe party delinquent think twice. I caught a few ppl snogging and spreading a bit of love around, but nothing out of the ordinary. The funkiest thing I did was a slow dance with the bimbo to one of Donovan’s ballads. And with that, Donovan will now have a special place in my heart… right next to Bob Dylan. I am told that the party ended at around 8pm. I had left earlier and was home by 7. A quick shower and a change of clothes later, I met up with my mates at a pub in Rivonia around 10pm. Well done, Mrs. [B]… you got to be Mama Cas for a day and I got to keep my pants on and my tattoo well hidden.

Life is full of litle surprises, innit? Yesterday, while driving home from work, I had the delightful pleasure of being involved in a minor bumper bashing. As I got off the N3 and prepared to merge with the traffic on the road I wanted to get onto, the guy traveling me behind in a small sedan, who wanted to get into the same lane, “gently” collided with my rear bumper. Fortunately I saw him coming up behind me and I attempted to pick up speed at the same time. He had somehow misjudged my speed or must have felt that he could overtake me at this point. (How polite am I, huh… making excuses for him?) Anyway, we pulled off onto the emergency lane to inspect our cars and to exchange information. Damage was minimal and despite my irritation and extreme annoyance, my only goal was to get the formalities over with, get back into my car and go home. I had no fight in me. I did not have the energy to engage in an argument or a heated debate about who had the right of way and who was wrong. As I got out of the car and proceeded to walk towards him, while writing down my details on my card, the very first thing he said to me when I am within earshot was, “Didn’t you see me coming?” WTF? Did I not see him coming… the friggin audacity of this moron! My first thought was to respond with the obvious, “Did you not see me driving in front of you?” Come on, who does this guy think he is? Perhaps he thought the old “best defense is a strong offense” strategy would work on me. Haha… bloody amateur! To be honest, I actually had no idea what he was thinking. It was obvious that he wanted to blame someone other than himself for what had happened. He had no idea whom he was dealing with. On a good day I could give him a “snotklap” and shower him with profanities, the likes of which he has yet to experience. But what would be the point? So I stopped and said to him, “No I did not see you coming. In fact, I was completely unaware that you were masturbating while driving. I hope the orgasm was worth the damage caused to my car.” Of course the attempt at humour and the wordplay was completely lost on this insolent sod and he looked at me like I just dropped in from planet Zappit. (That's the small grey planet to the left of the trendy side of Pluto). I shrugged my shoulders and handed him my card. I told him the he will hear from my insurance company. As he handed me his details, he mumbled something about wanting to talk to me. I waved him away with the back of my hand, got into my car and drove to the nearest police station and reported the accident. Live to fight another day… isn’t that what life is all about?