Thursday, January 03, 2008

WTF! Encyclopedia Dramatica

You can imagine my surprise when I took a look at my logs to find out why there was a sudden spike in traffic (turns out I'm on the first page of google images for the term- london snow) and I find Encyclopedia Dramatica in my referrer logs.

Encyclopedia Dramatica
is a spoof on wikipedia and the South African entry is beyond description... let's just say it wouldn't exactly feature on SA Rocks!
So you can imagine my disgust when I found that this entry was linking to my blog.
"Typical example of a dumbfuck saffa blog"

Hmmm... initial reaction was who, what, where...can... whoop ass... now! Edit- history search- user search. User=Stabularasa, and then I thought... hang on a tick...

(little voice inside my head)
"Grant... is it really worth getting worked up because some wanker who frequents (and edits) this sort of content decided to link to your blog?"

The answer is, of course, no.

So I checked out what Encyclopedia Dramatica was about and it clearly states:

"While the articles themselves are mostly satirical jabs at Internet users (both individually and in groups) and phenomena, bear in mind that the Encyclopedia Dramatica itself is a parody of a much less funny online encyclopedia. As such, ED articles tend to make fun of the supposed objectivity and accuracy, elitism, and stupid edit wars of such sites. In other words, expect blatant, biased lies, and expect boring truths to get deleted quickly."

Calmness restored.
Whilst I do not condone the majority of the content of the South Africa page, and I find it mostly in particularly bad taste, I can accept the attempt at satire. So... Stabularasa... I'm honoured you feel my blog is worthy of a link to this site. (Really, there are far better people whom you could've baited with this.)

Much love!


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Big Brother - Celebrity Hijack

The tears are literally pouring down my face! I'm an seconds away from wetting my pants!

I'm currently watching the latest incarnation of Big Brother. This time they have celebrities controlling the housemates. The housemates are all crazy over achievers; racing drivers,dancers, circus performers, entrepreneurs, etc aged 18+.

Matt Lucas (Little Britain) is currently controlling some poor scottish guy and making him do the most insane things whilst the rest of the housemates enter the house unaware that he is being controlled. "John - Go and ask the newest housemate if his beard is stuck on, John - tell that housemate his hair is lop sided, John - collapse on the floor and fake cramp in your leg, John - shout the work 'cake', John - Tell the new dancer housemate that you are the best irish dancer in Scotland..."

I doubt this translates as exceptionally funny when you read it, but, my word, this is outstanding!
I'm not a fan of Big Brother and my interest in this series only stems from the fact that I'm working on a online campaign for an advertiser... but if it continues in this vein I'm going to be hooked.

Update: John - Who turns out to be the chairman of the Scottish youth parliament has just passed his task and won the house a party and himself a safe route to the final of the competition.

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Tuesday, November 06, 2007

Still around, but no time to chat.

I know I haven't posted in a while, but blah blah blah (busy).

Anyway... found something worth sharing.. enjoy:

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Wednesday, October 24, 2007

WhackHead's Heathrow announcement

I found this over at Mark's Digital Farm.

WhackHead from 94.7 (a South African radio station) calls Heathrow and asks them to make an announcement for 2 very important passengers.

Click here to listen

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Saturday, October 13, 2007

Why does facebook think I'm gay?

For a while now I've been considering facebook and their ads. For a site which collects far too much information about people... why on earth isn't any of the information used to at least target me with relevent ads? Here's the latest, a gay dating site using the facebook flyer, (which to be fair is super cheap and you wouldn't expect it to be targeted.) But come-on... interested in...women!!!

(P.S. Ladies as you can see from my dashing profile, I'm both incredibly good looking and single.)
(P.P.S. The black thing on my cheek comes off, and the baby blue t-shirt no longer exists)

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Thursday, October 11, 2007

A few good creative men

A mate sent this youtube video to me. Only really funny if you have ever worked in or know someone who has worked in a creative dept.

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Tuesday, October 09, 2007

Surely not!... really?... um... LOL

You have got to check this site out...
I'm still trying to decide whether it's for real or someone just having a laugh... either way it's helluva funny.
http://tinylink.co.za/e920aa

I'm thinking about starting a Bolton fanboy site... with some classic Boltisms... and maybe some t-shirts! All proceeds from sales would of course be 'donated'.

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Friday, October 05, 2007

Man down.

Gym can be bad for you!
I have apparently suffered a minor hernia... whateva! I'm calling it a dodgy stomach. Although it does feel like I've been kicked in the balls. oooh TMI!

So it's going to be a quiet weekend for me, fortunately the rugby will keep me nicely occupied. I'm considering taking a drive somewhere out of London, but haven't decided where.

Apart from that, I've been pretty boring recently...oh... I did go to the Digital Music Awards.... oh... and saw Incubus last weekend... ok not so boring. :)

I didn't win tickets to Led Zeppelin unfortunately... (1,000,000 people registered for 20,000 tickets)

Before I sign off... here's a wicked video I found... the first minute is rubbish but trust me it gets better... it's amazing how much time some people seem to have on the hands?

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Wednesday, August 01, 2007

Sony Spoof

When I watched the Sony Bravia commercial, I thought it was pretty good... but this response is outstanding!

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Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Decoding the female venacular

1.) Fine : This is the word women use to end an argument when they are
Right and you need to shut up.

2.) Five Minutes : If she is getting dressed, this means a half an hour.
Five minutes is only five minutes if you have just been given five more
Minutes to watch the game before helping around the house.

3.) Nothing : This is the calm before the storm. This means something,
And you should be on your toes. Arguments that begin with nothing
Usually end in fine.

4.) Go Ahead : This is a dare, not permission. Don't Do It!

5.) Loud Sigh : This is actually a word, but is a non-verbal statement
often misunderstood by men. A loud sigh means she thinks you are an
idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing
with you about nothing. (Refer back to #3 for the meaning of nothing.)

6.) That's Okay : This is one of the most dangerous statements a women
can make to a man. That's okay means she wants to think long and hard
before deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake.

7.) Thanks : A woman is thanking you, do not question, or Faint. Just say
you're welcome.

8.) Whatever : Is a women's way of saying F@!K YOU!

9.) Don't worry about it, I got it: Another dangerous statement, meaning
this is something that a woman has told a man to do several times, but
is now doing it herself. This will later result in a man asking 'What's
wrong?' For the woman's response refer to #3.

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Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Branding Humour - PS3 spoof

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Monday, July 23, 2007

Flight of the Conchord

These guys are outstanding!

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Monday, June 04, 2007

Look after you

Something I've learnt about myself over the years is that I love being the hero.

Maybe it was growing up to fairy tales of knights in shining armour rescuing the princess from the tower. However maybe it's a flaw in my character that I feel people need rescuing. In all honesty if it is a flaw to think that way, then surely it's better than the opposite. Imagine if I hid or ran when people needed me.

I dunno, and to be perfectly honest, I don't care... I love being the shoulder to cry on, the hand the pick someone up, the smile when someones feeling down.

At the same time, I'm never short of advice. I love being an authority on happiness, heartache, and life in general. This coming from a soon-to-be-26yr-old, with (let's be honest) limited life experience. However, I won't change this either. I think I give pretty good advise... I never pretend to have all the answers but what I say comes from the heart, and I honestly do believe it's the right thing to say.

The reason I'm writing this post is that two very special women in my life have been on the receiving end of my advise recently, and I just wanted to let them know I'm thinking of them.

As, has become customary, with my thoughtful posts...here's my mood in music:

The Fray: Look after you.

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Thursday, April 26, 2007

Cricket causes pain.


I will not write about the cricket... it is a dirty word, and I refuse to speak of it. It causes you to do silly things like, stand by yourself in a bar for an hour waiting for a mate to rock-up, pay £3 for 50g of shit biltong, drink far too much beer, slide down bannisters... and most painful of all... think it's hilarious when you're pushed off said bannister. Ohhh the pain in the morning when the pain-numbing properties of booze wear off, and you have to limp to work! The picture shows my superbly tanned and toned leg and the swelling from my graceful swan dive down a flight of stairs. Thank you Whitty you twat....lol.

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Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Boys on wheels!

Quick one... It gets better after the first song.

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Monday, April 16, 2007

Ahhh...the best Monday ever

Yes ladies and gentlemen (more for the gents though)... it's Tit Monday.

"That glorious day when, heading into work on the bus, or walking to the tube, or sitting on the train, you find yourself suddenly chirpier than you have been in months. You find yourself smiling at strangers again. There is a mild involuntary tumescence in your trousers that comes and goes throughout the morning with the comforting regularity of a heartbeat.

And then you get a text around lunchtime from a mate which says: "At last, Tit Monday!" And you instantly understand why you are so happy. For Tit Monday is that special day in the year when, for the first time, the temperature rises above that magical point which causes girls getting dressed in the morning to decide to show a bit of skin.

After months of dull colours and chunky knit, the world's birds suddenly dive into last summer's wardrobe (they've not had chance to buy this season's stuff) and chuck it on without a thought. Your urban landscape is suddenly lightened with acres of naked arm and leg and, after many dark months of burrowing, breasts rising to the surface like moles at dusk.

Big breasts in white work shirts straining at the buttons. Small breasts braless in vest tops, the nipples frotted by ribby fabrics. Breasts in summer dresses bouncing in the distance so that they catch your eye before you even notice there is someone wearing them. Breasts nudging out from the crowd at traffic islands, quivering to cross the road...

And you know it is nearly summer. For previous generations, the arrival of spring was heralded by the sound of the first cuckoo. For us, it is Tit Monday.

Not that it always falls on a Monday. Like Easter, Tit Monday is a moveable feast. Last year it fell on a Friday. Friday 29 April, to be precise, when temperatures maxed out at 22.1C after nothing much above 16C all year. It last fell on a Monday in 2004, when temperatures leapt to 22C on 24 April.

And then, of course, there is Tit Monday Night. You see, in early summer, temperatures drop off very dramatically when night falls (Tit Friday 2005 dropped away to a parky 11.8C). But the dollies are not prepared. Slightly stunned by the morning heat, they drag out the summer clothes but forget to bring a cardie (a mistake they will not make again until next year), so that when they're all standing outside All Bar One after work celebrating the arrival of spring, their barely covered nipples have no protection from the cold. It's like a Bring-and-Buy sale where everyone has brought hat pegs. It's like a prog-rock gig where, instead of lighters, everyone is holding up nipples.

So when will Tit Monday fall this year? Will you be the first to text your mates with the announcement? Do not shoot your bolt too early. There will be false starts. You will smell fresh cut grass and see a couple of early starters and feel compelled to declare Tit Monday. But your more level-headed friends will tell you to hold your horses, keep your powder dry, don't fire until you see the whites of their bra straps.

As the poet said: one bold Northern slapper in a bikini doth not a summer make."

Disclaimer: I received this in an email a couple years ago, and upon seeking it's source found many copies and variations. So this is not my own work, there I said it. It's still funny though!

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Friday, April 13, 2007

The end and the beginning.

I am now back in London, but first let me recount my last days in SA.

Easter Monday: Spend the day chilling with my folks, and attempt to organise on final drinking session. I thought it would be appropriate that I go to the Colony Arms for farewell drinks and so after dinner I head off with my sister as my designated driver. Get to The Colony expecting to be greeted by the waft of John Deere's, only to find that it was closed...wtf! So not to be deterred my mates moved onto plan B without so much as a hiccup- the Jolly Roger- you just can't fault it for consistency. It really is a fine establishment, and on my last night it was perfect! (You know it's good when even when it's shite Swimsuit Models go there.) The evening was a quiet affair as I suspect my mates were a little tired and had work the next day, so many couldn't come. No matter, my 2 greatest mates were there and the Castle Draft flowed nicely. My sister was a super star and didn't grumble once for having to stick around.

Tuesday: Last day in SA. Made sure the washing was done, returned my gran's car and took her for lunch. Then picked up my sister's car from the garage and took her to get the speakers, I had got her for her Birthday, installed. Then chilled at home watching cricket and passing the time before going to the airport. After my Dad dropped me off I found the pub showing the cricket and sat and had a drink and a couple cigs. Oh the dread of having to get onto he plane! On the plane I was seated amongst a german family and of course the youngest was next to me. The whole flight all I could think was, Oh My God... surely one kid does not need to piss this much. Every half an hour!!! Then he fell asleep and I felt the tension drain from my body and I got my PSP out. As I switched it on he woke up... it's as if he could smell the disc warming up and for the next couple hours proceeded to watch me play over my shoulder. He would lean closer and I would move it away so I cold see what I was doing, closer- move it away, closer- move it away... until I was eventually holding the console in the aisle and his neck was craning to see what was going on! The little pig dog! (swein hond).

Wednesday: Plane lands in Madrid, and thanks to my Schengen Visa still having 4 days left on it I didn't have to be sent to a different terminal with the rest of my TB/Aids/terrorist/asylum seeking countrymen. They really have funny regulations for anyone displaying the little green passport. This most recent example really highlighted this as I was able to bullshit my way through the entire airport all because I had a piece of paper glued into my passport saying that the french trusted me once... what a joke! Anyway, I got to Heathrow and called a cab as the thought of tubing it home was right up there with Chinese Water Torture. On arriving home I met my new housemate from New Zealand and after a ten minute discussion duly passed out on the couch from exhaustion!

Thursday: Woke up very confused as I wasn't sure where I was, and then spent the rest of the day catching up on the series I had missed while in SA.

So now it's back to the norm of the UK. Fortunately I have some exciting things to look forward to and the weather is playing nice so far. Got a TASS Group meeting this weekend and I expect some exciting news will be announced soon regarding this.

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Thursday, April 12, 2007

Facebook Stalker

I've got a monster of a post brewing...but before I unleash it I had to show everyone this!

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Sunday, April 08, 2007

Wanted: New Liver, Kidneys, and Lungs

The party will not stop... I love it!

Right so to continue the diary:

Tuesday: Off to Jolly Roger again! You really can't fault it for consistency!

Wednesday: Admin day, spent taking my gran from place to place and then met with a developer about our second website. Looks like they'll be able to do everything we want and it just may come in on budget!

Thursday: Shopping with mom! Got spoiled... I'll never get too old to be spoiled by my folks! Then off to Saints rugby fest very late, to meet up with mates before heading off to Melville. Old Melville hasn't really changed, and we started the evening off with a bit of sushi before managing a semi-pub crawl whilst being stalked by some rather 'large' women whom my mate thought was a good idea to talk to. Got stuck into the Jager-bombs in a big way before shaking some ass on the dance floor (I still can't do drum 'n bass properly). Another mate then dropped me off at home after passing out in his car on the way and realizing I didn't know where I was.

Friday: MUST CHILL OUT... but noooooooooo, off to lunch with my godparents and some hair-of-the-dog. Lunch turned into afternoon drinks before calling it a day and attempting to catch an early night.

Saturday: Up early for rugby on tv, and last minute admin at the bank. Sharks have a beauty of a game, that's more like it boys! Then off to Saints rugby fest. Had a good time talking shit with my makes and having a couple beers all whilst overlooking the games below. Saints got a thorough trouncing at the hands of Paarl Gym, but that was kinda expected. Then off to a mates house to meet up before catching a cab to Night Fever. Ahhh the Fever... I cannot believe it still exists. As per normal at Fever drank far too many shooters and Jager-bombs, and then demonstrated to the adoring crowd how to completely make an ass of yourself whilst dancing like it was your last night on the planet! I loved every second of it. Minor regret in not paying the young girl I had being buying drinks more attention at this stage...however... bygones!

Sunday: Happy Easter- woke up at a mates house feeling less than fresh and caught the start of the Grand Prix... McLaren 1/2- sweet...my ex would not have enjoyed that result! I then hear the news about the cricket and my mood does not improve... poo. WTF! (I'm lost for words)

So as you can see the party has not let up, however the venues have gone back to basics. Less pretentious and more just about having fun with mates! Only a couple days left in SA, and as sad as I will be to leave... my body will be a lot happier once I do!

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Wednesday, March 28, 2007

The Aftermath.

With such a dramatic title I really hope I can do it justice when trying to recall the events of last night at the 27 Dinner.

It was with much trepidation that I climbed into my sisters' Corsa last night and headed off to Melrose Arch. My nerves had been somewhat calmed by the invitation of Nic to come and introduce myself so I wouldn't look too lost. However all the roads in Jo'burg have changed ever so slightly and I managed to get myself lost, and it was only by blind luck that I literally stumbled upon the correct off ramp.

I walked into Primi Forum and immediately knew I was in the right place, and I must commend Mike, Dave, and everyone else involved in organising a really top event. I made my way straight to the bar and despite the less than optimal bar service I managed to get my hands on an ice cold peroni... I love spending pounds in SA! I then noticed a blatant spelling error on the about section of my blog as it was blown up 6x6 feet...doh!

Despite considering myself a complete extrovert I was decidedly nervous, fortunately I found Nic and immediately felt less spare. I was introduced to the Rhodes crowd and then found myself a seat at the bar. I enjoyed all the presentations however it was the mingling in between which I most enjoyed. I met Justin whom I had tongue-in-cheek...ily offered R100 for Grabble to. LOL- still sounds funny when I say it.

Once the presentations were over I got stuck into the beers again and had a chat to Dave and managed to introduce myself to Mike. I then had a good laugh chatting the guys from Chumpstyle about monetising their site.

All of a sudden it seemed the night was over and I found myself searching for my sisters car (I couldn't remember what level I had parked it on).

I had a great evening and really enjoyed being able to chat to guys whom I would not have been able to meet otherwise.

(Just so everyone knows the reason this post is so late is because I apparently picked up a bug from my sister and was man-down the whole of yesterday... that's my story and I'm sticking to it, it had nothing to do with the booze :p)

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Tuesday, February 27, 2007

In Flux

What a conundrum my life is at the moment. On the one hand I desperately feel the need for stimulation (get your minds out of the gutter!), and on the other all I feel like doing is relaxing and not having to think about anything.

As the title to this post suggests I'm caught in a period where there really isn't anything significant happening, and because of this I am bored. The boredom makes me over analyze everything which in turn raises my stress levels. The funny thing is that it's not like I'm not busy at the moment. The development of TopOf is frantic, however the stage we're at is a very frustrating one. We are just about to have it completed and let it loose on the world, but we keep hitting obstacles which is really starting to piss me off. We're struggling to maintain momentum, and it feels like the day before Christmas only to find that Christmas has been postponed for a week!

All in all I think it's safe to say that I'm not having fun at the moment, which is disappointing.

I think I need a distraction, maybe a girlfriend. However I was having this conversation with a mate the other night...
... You really don't want to have a girlfriend during summer in the UK. (Not a new girlfriend at least.) There is so much you can do during the summer and you really need some flexibility...oh... and girlfriends can cost a fortune, and there is no shortage of things to pay for. (Disclaimer: Please note how I used 'can' cost a fortune, thereby implying that it is not a rule that girlfriends 'do' carry an intrinsic increase in expenditure.)- Shoo! Narrow escape from female friends giving me a talking to!

In fact, while taking a short break while writing this post I have found the answer to my prayers.
Mark Forrester posted this video on his blog. Watch it till the end...

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Friday, February 16, 2007

TopOf.co.uk update, 27 Dinner- Help.

Happy Friday everyone...

I'll start out by letting you all know that I am in the final stages before being able to unleash my first site in the world wide wilderness. TopOf.co.uk is busy having the final changes made by the developers as we speak, and if they can follow our instructions properly (things get a little lost in translation in India) I'm hoping it will be all done by middle to late next week!

That being said we have also started work on our next two sites:

Tazoo.co.za will be a shopping site for the Saffa market, and we have finished the business plan and are shopping around for quotes from developers.

Yuni.co.uk, is probably our most complex and ambitious project, and is aimed at the UK student segment. Yuni, is still in the planning stages, as we know it's going to cost a fortune to get it done the way we want it. We are considering a staged development process, slowly adding on the new features which will eventually come together to form the final site.

In other news, as you're probably aware I'm looking forward to my trip home (just a tad), and today I realised that my trip will coincide with the 3rd 27 Dinner in Jo'burg. Chuffed! So I'm all 'registered' to go. I do get the feeling though it will be the same vibe as when I go the monthly MiniBar meetings- me on my own desperately looking for people to talk to, and trying my hardest not to look like a loser. I find this rather humourous as a big part of my day job entails networking and I'm pretty damn good at it. In fact anything that revolves around drinking I'm good at.

So I can see it now- I'll arrive early (as always, can't bring myself to be 'fashionably' late), and hit the bar with a vengeance. Once sufficiently lubricated, I'll probably try and hit on a girl which will break the ice and I'll end up having a great evening. So in order to save some poor girl getting the 'Squirrel' treatment I am launching the 'Adopt Grant and save a poor girl from having to get rid of me' campaign. All that is needed is for someone to acknowledge my existence prior to arriving at 27. In other words I'm looking for someone to say, "Hey Grant, I look forward to meeting you at 27."- No Mom, you don't count, and no I don't think it will be cool if you come along to hold my hand while I try make friends!

Man, it's like the first day at school all over again!

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Thursday, February 15, 2007

Only in Africa

It is thankfully a sunny day in London, which is great because I'm having quite a good day. Why am I having a good day? Well because Sky are going to be showing the Sharks game on Saturday!!! Not only that but it also looks like they'll be showing most of the Super 14 games because there is no 6 Nations on this weekend!
Reminder- have you voted yet! If not ----------->Click on the nominate button......now!

Aaaannnyyyway- a mate of mine sent me a great pic, click to enlarge.

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Monday, January 29, 2007

MiniBar, Crazy weekend

I started my weekend by attending a web 2.0 get-together called MiniBar, and rather than go into too much detail which won't interest too many of my readers (hi Mom and Dad) you can read more about MiniBar over at TheColonyPerspective.

The beer I received at minibar was the start of a very crazy weekend. After leaving the venue in East London (east of Trafalgar Square not east of Cape Town) I missioned off to Putney where I braved the crowds of Australia day with a couple mates. A particularly large women (I think) draped in an Aussie flag used as a top, proved to be all too 'exciting' for the motley crew I had joined and we changed venues for somewhere a little more civilized. Plenty beer was consumed at Thai Square before eventually putting myself onto a bus at some ungodly hour attempting to get home without falling asleep. I would have failed in this mission had it not been for the bus driver making a hard left turn which caused me to fall off my seat and well and truly wake me up as the roars of laughter from the people sitting behind me turned me bright red.

Saturday morning left me rather fragile as was to be expected, but could not deter me from meeting my business partners for a 5 hour marathon brain-storming session. Whilst keeping an eye on the cricket, we bounced ideas back an forth, and the whole experience just serves to motivate me more and more. Of course the beers helped the creative juices and it was not long before I was rushing home for quick shower and a change before heading out for the night.

I met the boys out for what was supposed to be chilled drinks in Wimbledon Village, but ended up at Zulu's disco dancing my ass off drinking SnakeBites by the pitcher. The music stopped at about 2am, and we were not in the mood to go gently into the night- and so hopped into a cab destined for a mate of Sean's house where we got some more liquor/cigarettes/pizza delivered and drank through the night. My evening finished with me walking in my door around 6:30am, knowing that I was staring a write-off of a day in the face! Crazy stuff, but no major regrets.

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Friday, January 26, 2007

The Wingman- defined.


This was emailed to me earlier today, and as I consider myself an excellent wingman it appealed to me particularly.

*THE WINGMAN IS ARGUABLY THE NOBLEST CREATURE TO EVER STEP INTO A BARROOM!!*

Who else, with cavalier disregard for his personal reputation, is so willing
to throw himself upon the cruel mercies of a brazen man-hater, just so his
buddy can hook up with a hot girl with big gazongas?

Who else, with just a hint of a grimace, will selflessly dirty dance with a
creature so hideous that no amount of hard liquor will wash the stain from
his memory?

Who else, especially if he's loaded to the gills, will stand in the deepest
depths of hell just so a pal can climb up his back into hook-up heaven?

Whose sterling motto is, "You are going to so owe me"?
None else but the wingman!


*WHAT A WINGMAN DOES...*
And just as that brave (some say suicidally insane) Spartan king and his
hundred warriors laid down their lives against a hundred thousand Persians,
so will the wingman, with the right amount of prodding, recklessly lunge
into battle against foes twice his size and half his intellect, fully
knowing there is no way in hell that the night will end well.


*IT USUALLY GOES DOWN LIKE THIS:*
A male (the flight leader) spots an attractive female (the bombing target)
across the bar. But alas, she is not alone. She is paired with a tragically
less attractive friend (the cock blocker). And they seem quite close, so
close that the BT is unlikely to abandon her CB for a guy she just met.

The FL knows he'll never be able to successfully complete his bombing run
without proper air cover, and this is where the wingman comes into play. The
wingman will engage the CB and pin her down long enough for the FL to finish
his run, and hopefully bomb his target back to his bedroom.

Of course, there's much more to the task than distracting the CB while the
FL makes his move.
Wingman skills have been honed and passed down since someone decided women
should be allowed into bars. Strategies have evolved and tactics have been
polished to the point that the wingman has become a super-specialized
warrior in the eternal Battle of the Sexes.

And like all specialists, they've developed their own lingo.


*WINGMAN JARGON...*
Air superiority - when the flight team has established a comfortable
conversation with the BT and CB.

- BT - Bombing Target; the hot chick.


- Banzai shot - much as kamikaze pilots were given a ceremonial shot
of sake before being sealed in their cockpits, the flight leader should buy
his wingman a shot prior to a mission.


- Betty - an alliteration of Bombing Target.


- Bogie - a friend of the BT that has not yet been identified as a CB.


- CB - Cock Blocker; the hot girl's troublesome friend and sworn enemy
of the wingman. Also called a bandit.


- Dogfight - dancing with a CB.


- FL - Flight Leader; also called the bombardier.


- Flak - snide remarks made by a CB in an attempt to drive the flight
team from the skies.


- Flying blind - when the wingman indulges in so much in-flight
refueling he jeopardizes the mission.


- Getting pinged - initial eye contact with a BT.


- In-flight refueling - when a wingman orders a flurry of shots to
help him complete his mission.


- Kamikaze mission - when the wingman is likely to end up in the
clutches of the CB.


- Landing gear - a wingman's self-respect; if a FL asks his wingman to
"leave his landing gear behind," he's preparing the wingman for a flak storm
or kamikaze mission.


- POW - Prisoner Of a Warthog; to go home with a CB, the supreme
sacrifice of a wingman.


- Pig Alley - a play off of the Korean War's infamous MIG Alley, this
describes a BT swarming with CBs.


- Shite leader - a would-be Flight Leader without the skills to
complete the mission.


- Shoot and scoot - an attempt to engage with more than one CB at a
time.


- Tailgunning - when the wingman disgracefully abandons his air cover
duties and attempts his own bombing run on the BT.


- Yank and bank - an attempt by the FL to maneuver the BT away from
the wingman and CB for some one-on-one time.


*KNOW YOUR COCK BLOCKERS...*
Before you tip that throttle and rocket off the runway, it's best to know
what you're up against.

There are three types of CBs, namely:

1.) *Cinderella's Sister:*
This semi-attractive woman is secretly jealous of her more alluring friend
and won't want to see her hook up because she's tired of being the
bridesmaid. She's an easy target for flattery, especially if you compare her
favorably with her friend.
*Tag line*: "Doesn't she have great breasts? Too bad they're fake."

2.) *Den Mother:*
She's such a wonderful, responsible, caring person that she feels the need
to watch over her "wild" friend and keep all the naughty boys at length.
She's been honing her CB skills since high school and knows all the tricks,
but can be cracked with a "you should really let your friend live her own
life, she's all grown up now" attack.
*Tag line*: "Come on, Sweety, you've had enough to drink and it's time to go
home."

3.) Brumhilda* : *
Tempered by the hot fires of spite and bitterness, she dislikes men in
general, either because she's been denied their attention or due to past
romantic difficulties. She is the most dangerous CB because no amount of
charm can flatter her into letting your FL fly off into the sunset with her
friend. Only the most skilled and dogged of wingmen can neutralize her,
usually by pretending he's gay and equally bitter.
*Tag line*: "Hey you. Yeah, you, asshole. It's girls' night out. No men
allowed. So why don't you go play Hide and Go Fuck Yourself?"


*POINTS TO REMEMBER... *
After the BT has been reconned, it's always best if the wingman goes in
first.

If he wings in with the FL or after, it will smack off a setup.

Once the wingman has successfully engaged the CB, the FL sweeps in, first
making contact with the wingman, then turning his attention to the BT.

The moment the conversation is rolling, the FL will want to focus fully on
the BT, so the wingman should attempt to lure the CB to the dance floor,
jukebox, pool table or bar.

If the CB refuses to budge, the FL will attempt to "yank and bank" the BT
well out of cock blocking range.

A good wingman will accept the fact that he will most likely have to remain
with the CB for the rest of evening, because once he breaks off the attack,
the CB will make a beeline to the BT and try to shoot down the FL.

Keeping the CB pinned down is not always easy. The wingman must use all his
charms to keep her entertained, he must listen to psyche-grating
life-stories, he will learn the names of all her cats and all their
wonderful little quirks.

And if need be, he will feign romantic interest.

When closing time rolls around, a lesser wingman will wish his FL all the
luck in the world and hightail it home.

A good wingman, however, will carry on his mission even though it extends to
someone's domicile, knowing full well he will find himself deep in enemy
airspace, and may be asked to make the ultimate sacrifice.


*THE RISKS...*
It's true that sometimes terrible things befall wingmen.

Sometimes it's as innocuous as enduring a dull conversation or getting a
drink thrown in his face.

Sometimes his public reputation becomes so mangled he can no longer fly in
the same theater of operations.

Sometimes he will get locked in so steep a dive he can't pull up in time to
save himself from crash landing in a CB's bed.

The experience can shatter him completely, taking him off the duty roster
for weeks, sometimes months. Sometimes he never comes back.

Finally, worst of all, a wingman might go so far and so often into enemy
territory that he will "go native," and develop strange tastes in women.

So if you find a good wingman, make sure the missions are worth his risk and
sacrifice.

If the bombing run is successful, buy him a bottle of the good stuff,
especially if he served as a POW.

Keep him happy, serve as his wingman when he needs one, and hold onto him
with an iron grip.
*GOOD WINGMEN ARE AS RARE AS DIAMONDS!!!*

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Thursday, January 25, 2007

59 days! Clear your schedules, dust off your dancing shoes...

....the Squirrel is coming to Jo'burg!!!

That's right, I have just booked my trip home to SA. I arrive on Sat 24th in the morning and will be there for just over 2 weeks! Be afraid, be very afraid!

So for those of you who work! (Having a dig at my sister here ;)) You need to make sure that you don't have too much important planned, because I have every intention of coaxing you out most evenings! Mwoohaha.

I can taste the Castle already. Feel the heat beating down on my shoulders, as I strike an enormous drive down the middle of the fairway. Sitting on the couch debating life with my mother. Telling my father his football team is kak, and his tv is average. Watching the Sharks! The pepper steak pies, biltong by the kg not the the mg. Tap water that actually tastes good. Laughing at pretentious people in Sandton as they order expensive whiskey without knowing the difference. Talking shit with my mates and the subject of salaries not coming up. Speaking to people about my business ventures, without getting that glazed look over their eyes as I try to explain e-commerce. Yes- I am looking forward to it!

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Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Name changes in SA

Firstly, I'm sorry if you've heard this before- but living in the UK does mean that on occasion you're left out of the loop. This clip from The Rude Awakening on 94.7 radio, was sent to me this morning and I've had the giggles ever since.

Click below

namechange.wma

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Tuesday, January 23, 2007

Afternoon pick-me-up

When crunchies and coffee don't help, you can always rely on a bit of comedy to to brighten up your day.

Stumbled on these photoshopped images from well know films. Some of the really subtle ones are my favourite .


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Monday, January 22, 2007

My Mopey Monday success story!

So I wake up this morning and get that little feeling of dread you feel when you realise that it's Monday. I then get told by the BBC that today is the most depressing day of the year in the UK. (Apparently more people call in sick or commit suicide today, than any other day of the year), they also inform me it's going to be fecking cold... what a great start to the day!

Work is quite uneventful so I'm able to read the various news websites, only to find that all they insist on doing is reminding me that Man Utd failed to capitalize on Chelsea's defeat. I then get a phone call from one of my biggest clients informing me that they wish to 'pause' there activity due to non-performance. This is something I have no control over, however I am expected to magically solve it. The day is really going well!!!

To add to my misery I have no idea what to blog about, and writing an entire post on how the world seems to fart in my direction at the moment doesn't seem to appealling. Until I Stumbled upon this recorded call from a telemarketer (it's a big file so give it time if you're still being exploited by Telkom)

When I first came to the UK I worked as a telemarketer and it was easily the worst job- ever. However I can sooo identify with the telemarketer AND the guy playing the prank. I have now pissed myself laughing for a solid 5 minutes and it's made me remember that my job is not THAT bad!

Happy Monday everyone and remember- it wouldn't be called 'work' if it was fun all the time.

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Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Chavs


Living in the UK is not all 'strawberries and cream at Wimbledon', 'picnics in Hyde Park', 'high tea at the National Portrait gallery', and 'Saturday matinées in the West End'.
For those of you who are unaware of these people, let me introduce -The Chav

The easiest way to describe a chav to a South African is simply- 'White Trash'. These little buggers range in age from around 10-17, and as the grow up they evolve into yobs, although it is the younger- chav, which should be more feared. Chav girls are easily identified as they will be the 14-yr old walking down the street pushing twins. Everyone I know has a few chav stories, and I have had a few run-ins in my 3 years here.

You learn very quickly that these delinquents are not to be messed with. They hunt in packs and are blissfully aware that as minors they cannot be touched. Yip that's right, you cannot touch them. They are a constant and in fact growing problem across the UK, they are the ASBO generation.

All this however does make for some good comedy:


Q. Two chavs jump off a cliff, who wins?
A. Society.
>------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q. What does a chav girl use as protection during sex?
A. Bus shelter.
>------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q. What do you call a 30 year old chav girl?
A. Granny.
>------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q. What do you call a chav in a box?
A. Innit .
>------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q. What do you call a chav in a filing cabinet?
A. Sorted.
>------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q. What do you say to a chav in a suit
A. "Will the defendant please rise"
>------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q. Why did the chav cross the road?
A. To start a fight with a complete stranger for no reason what
so ever.
>------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q. What do you call a chav girl in a white tracksuit?
A. The bride.
>------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q. If you're driving and see a chav on a bike why should you try
not to hit him?
A. It might be your bike.
>------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q. What's the first question during a chav quiz night?
A. What you looking at.
>------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q. Why are chavs like slinkey's?
A. They have no real use but it's great to watch one fall down a
flightof stairs
>------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q. Two chavs in a car without any music, who's driving?
A. The policeman!
>------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q. What do you call a hundred chavs at the bottom of the river?
A. A start.
>------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q. Where do you take a chav girl for a decent night out?
A. Up the ar*e.
>------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q. Why is 3 chavs going over a cliff in an Opel Corsa a shame?
A. Because an Opel Corsa has 4 seats.
>------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q. What do you say to a chav with a job?
A. Bigmac please.
>------------------------------------------------------------------------
Q. What's the difference between a chav boy and a chav girl?
A. A chav girl has a higher sperm count.


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Thursday, January 04, 2007

Houses- Old and New

Today my parents are moving out of the house I have lived in most of my life. Barring a few months after birth, a year when I was in Grahamstown, and the past 3 years in the UK, it was where I lived, and until today was home.

It is a really strange feeling, because however sad it makes me, I always knew it would happen. Being in the UK also gives me the distance to not have to get emotional about it. I can easily just sit back and say "life goes on" it's a natural progression. I suppose the reality will hit home (excuse the pun) when I go back to SA for my annual visit, and realize that that place is not my home it is just a house.
That being said I will miss it, and treasure the memories of my childhood. (little chuckle at myself for writing such a cheesy line and then trying to justify it to myself afterwards)

On my current house front, the spot where I live and share with two mates is causing me some frustration but not without a touch of humor.
Having returned from my jolly in Dubbo's, I was confronted by my poor little house looking a little worse for wear. After xmas I had left it in a 'vaguely' acceptable state, but for some reason the braai had not magically cleaned itself, and the borrowed tables had not walked themselves home. Damn!
Our garden fence has decided it is tired of standing in the wind and a portion of it has collapsed. This would not normally be a major issue (nothing a few panels of wood and a couple nails can't fix), however it is firstly freezing outside, and when I get home from work it is super duper pitch black dark. My female house mate is ill and in no position to be running around outside, so I am left to do it myself.

This is not a winning formula, me (tired after work) + Darkness (lots of it) + Big fence (being held only by me) + Nails (big and sharp) + Hammer (inflicter of pain) = A lot of F'ing and Blinding.

What I wouldn't give for (insert name of South African 'servant') to be in the UK.

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Wednesday, January 03, 2007

Two double zero seven- The return of Squirrel

A new year, new beginnings, blah blah blah... Aren't you sick of reading blog entries like this!

I'm back in the office after an excellent break in Dublin for the past week. Having dragged my laptop around with me for the past week and not connecting to the internet once (can you believe not a single unsecured wireless connection!) So all intentions of blogging on my trip had to be put on hold, and energies diverted to drinking many pints of the black stuff- ag shame I hear you say!

So myself of two mates flew to Dublin on the 28th, an uneventful trip all of 50mins in the air. Arrived on the other end (obviously), only to realize we had no idea where we were staying except for the name. We had rented an apartment for our stay so not as easy as just asking a cabby to take us to the Hilton. Fortunately the tourist information desk in town pointed us in the right direction and a gut feel got us there eventually. Only whilst enjoying my first pint of Guinness did I remember I had printed out a map showing the location- silly fool!

The apartment was simple and excellently located and 'big up' to my mates for organizing it. Spent the first night in the pub (this statement pretty much tells the story of every evening so just take it as a given) watching a guy belt out Irish music as well as mainstream stuff- he was excellent. There is no smoking in any indoor place in Ireland meaning I had to go out into the cold whenever I had a smoke- this proved to be really easy and made me realize just how often I really needed to smoke (not often). The funny effect of this law is that you realist just how much other people smell in pubs! If it's not the the body odour, it's the farting! Obviously the smoke usually masks the smell because that is all we smelt the whole trip. Either that or Guinness makes people fart more.

We did the obligatory city sightseeing bus tour the next day which gave us our bearings and the bit of background info we needed to appreciate the surroundings. Went to the Guinness Storehouse (aka the most expensive pint of Guinness I'll ever buy), and realized that SAB Miller have copied every aspect of the tour for their tour in Johannesburg. This didn't detract from an all-round interesting experience. That evening - see night 1, and add more beer and dancing (only second best dancer in the club, was pipped by a wannabe white ghetto superstar busting a move every time anything resembling R&B came on) Unfortunately my advances towards the opposite sex yielded no success, and I'm having serious doubts about the whole 'if you dance it - they will come' philosophy. LOL- I love being a dork sometimes.

Serious hangover the next day and so went for a walk around Phoenix Park (not the whole thing-it's quite big) and on the way back walk past the the Dublin Zoo. As we walked past my mate suggested we walk up to the fence as we might get a bit of freebie viewing of lion or something. With a chortle (haha I said chortle), we swaggered up to the fence to see what was going on to be confronted by what looked like an overgrown enclosure. For a couple seconds we pressed our faces against the fence to see if anything appeared. At that instant both my mate and I had a moment of sheer terror, as through the bush came the head of a tiger. Screams of 'Jesus Christ' where simultaneously shouted as we both managed to run about ten feet backwards in half a second, whilst trying not to look completely petrified (which we obviously were!) Once the initial shock wore off the two of us broke out into hysterical laughter as we realized how silly and un-manly we must seem. Two grown men from Africa fleeing from a tiger which had two 14foot fences between it and us.

The next day we went back to the zoo and paid the entrance fee. It was an excellent way to spend the last afternoon of the new year, and despite my initial hesitation of paying money to see animals which would be hiding because of the weather- it ended up being very good and the zoo is designed around the fact that Dublin is plagued by very average weather conditions with most of the enclosures having viewing areas of the heated rooms where the animals retire when it's kak outside.

We began our evening preparations at home with a good meal and I got stuck into half a bottle of Jack Daniels. My one mate and I stayed at home doing the male bonding thing while our other mate went to scout out a spot to ring in the new year. We ended up in an excellent pub just off the main drag which had an Irishman providing the live entertainment, a reasonably priced bar, and a 'club' downstairs for the after countdown disco dancing. Once again my advances towards anything female were unsuccessful, and my conclusion is that it must have been that I was completely out of their league, and it had nothing to do that I must have looked like a complete drunken gimp. LOL!

As expected, new years day was very uneventful and I bonded with the couch and tv.

The day of our departure we headed off into the countryside to a little village called Enniskerry for a bite to eat before rushing back to catch the flight home.

All in all a good break away, and a good party was had. So now I'm back in London looking forward to a rest!

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Friday, December 22, 2006

Best dancer- ever...doh!!!

Yip, I did it again. Company Christmas party (yes another one), and I was once again convinced I was the best dancer in the nightclub. Is there not a pill I can take or a patch I can wear that will inhibit this compulsion?
Last night the horrendous Justin Timberlake/Michael Jackson/MC Hammer combination was the style of choice, and I distinctly remember contemplating both break dancing and crowd surfing. Thankfully neither of these two options occurred.

It's all about cause and effect. Cause = Sambuca (x3) Effect = Best dancer ever!

Fortunately everyone else in the office was also drinking the liquorish devil juice so I was in good company. So this morning not only is the fog still thick in London (hope it clears for Dublin), there is also a very thick hangover mist in the office. A team trip to the greasy spoon for a full breakfast was a pleasant start to the day, and luckily Rob woke me up this morning otherwise I would probably still be asleep.

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Tuesday, December 19, 2006

There goes the neighborhood

See what happens! I go away for a little bit, and can't get a daily SArugby.com fix, and what did they announce last week- Bob Skinstad signs for the Sharks!
I really hope they aren't paying a lot of money for him, seeing as how the Sharks didn't manage to sign Jonghi Nokwe, probably because they are too busy forking out a 6-figure salary for an out of shape player who has spent the better part of 3 years running playing for a 2nd division side in London.

This is all an effort for Bob to apparently try and make the Springbok team. Are you having a laugh! (I love Ricky Gervais) A player of Bob's age cannot simply regain the sort of form he was in at his prime, in less than 12 months. Who's place is he going to take in the Sharks team (let alone the Springboks)- A