10 things.
|| If I’d the power to cheat time sweet time,
I’d use it to make reality sublime.
Would it be unfair, would it be a crime
to want you in this little heart of mine? ||
1. I love it when you sms me. I scroll through my inbox and re-read the messages several times a day.
2. Thinking about you brings a smile to my face.
3. I love how the conversations never get boring.
4. I like damaged people because I like the idea of being the one to fix them…But I don’t know if I can fix you. Maybe you’re just too broken to be mended.
5. You’re a smart guy with a great earning potential :P Too often, too shy. But we can remedy that – with a bottle of whiskey! (Can’t do anything about the tallness though :-)
6. You’re sweet, kind and caring.
7. And hot.
8. A little weird at times – I have yet to meet a person who tolerates lentils and grapefruit as much as you do.
9. One of these days, I will convert you to the sweet side of chocolates, whipped cream, and slush puppies. No more Mr Fitness Freak!
10. I want to ride on your motorbike, and not in a dirty way…:P
Story of two friends (as told by C.)
|| “’You are drunk Sir Winston, you are disgustingly drunk. ‘Yes, Mrs. Braddock, I am drunk. But you, Mrs. Braddock are ugly, and disgustingly fat. But, tomorrow morning, I, Winston Churchill will be sober.”||
We have all had our moments of drunken insanity. Binge drinking until 2 am, chundering outside The Roof and eventually passing out on the cold linoleum floor is all too familiar a routine for some of us. Such stories no longer faze me. In fact, if someone had to tell me he threw up chunks of lamb in his sleep, I would have looked at him with blasé indifference and told him to get back to me with something better. Thursday night, however, was a series of continued moments of Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. What happened that night was so mindblowingly insane, I’m still struggling to believe that it actually happened.
(I was not present when the incidents occurred, so I am relaying all this information as told to me by C. And for anonymity purposes, we shall call the instigators Cory and Jay.)
The night started off pretty tame with a couple of rounds of drinking poker. It has been a pre-drink tradition for as long as I can remember — a cheap and fun way to get drunk, fast. So before the group had even left C’s house, a couple of the notable members were already smashed. The situation was made worse at Gandalf’s where everyone drowned themselves in free booze. Cory, in his infinite wisdom, decided that the bathroom (which was a mere 10 metres away) was too far, so he unzipped his pants, and pissed into the air-vent next to the bar. The girl who was standing beside him did not look impressed, and neither did R. who slowly eased away and pretended not to know Cory.
But this was just the icing on the cake. As everyone was on their way back to C’s house, Cory and Jay decided to head back to Gandalf’s to get Jay’s car which incidentally was parked outside C’s house. Cory and Jay walked up to a car that somewhat resembled theirs and tried to open it with Jay’s house key. After 20 minutes of trying, the bouncer eventually approached them and said something to the effect of, “Hey, you can’t open a car door with a house key man.” Jay refused to listen of course, and in his inebriated state, he somehow managed to convince the idiot bouncer that it was indeed his car, and that the bouncer should break the window so that he could get in. And the bouncer obliged…
Two seconds later, a girl came over screaming at the top of her lungs, “WTF is going on?!!?!” At which point, Jay and Cory simply walked away, and left the bouncer to deal with the girl and the big hole in her car. They walked back to C’s house and again, attempted to open the front door with Jay’s house key. Eventually, the lack of success angered Cory so much that he took Jay’s house keys and threw them (somewhere). The keys were never found. The failure of plan A effected plan B, which was to climb over the wall – a feat possible only when one is drunk (it has been tried and tested). When they finally made it into the house, instead of sleeping over, they decided to drive home. So they got S’s copy of keys to let themselves out the house. They left, leaving the house door wide open, and the key still in the keyhole. (Note: The house was situated in one of the dodgiest areas whereby if a car was parked outside, its tyres had a 50% chance of turning into bricks the following day.)
Jay, with his superb driving skills, made it all the way from Obs to Liesbeeck Gardens before he turned too sharply around a corner and mounted the curb. He then tried to put the gear into reverse, but couldn’t. He kept on shifting it into 4th gear, so his car went further forward each time. Then, all of a sudden, a policeman appeared next to him and was knocking on the window. He asked if they were drunk, to which they replied with a rather slurred “Noooo”. The policeman noted that the two were clearly too drunk to drive, so he got in the car and drove them to their flat, and left without charging anyone.
Moral of the story: Don’t drink and drive!! Or if you do, then hope for a nice policeman who will drive you home.
Story of a friend (of a friend)
Statistically speaking, there will always be one weirdo (or freakazoid, depending on the intensity of your judgement) in a group of randomly composed individuals. This post is about someone whom I have never met, but the stories involving him are so legendary that I have to dedicate an entry to him. (For the sake of anonymity, we shall call this guy “Duke”.)
Duke was, relatively speaking, a normal student studying computer science at UCT. Everything was hunky dory until the end of his third year of studies where he suddenly garnered the urge to join the British Army. So, he dropped out of university in order to pursue his new dream, while under the delusion that “people don’t die in armies anymore”. His parents (for some unfathomable reason) supported this crazy notion. Instead of going ballistic at the thought of seeing their son drop out in his final year of university, they simply went, “That’s nice”. However, instead of flying to the UK, Duke packed up all of his belongings and went home. Reason: he didn’t want to join the army in winter; he’d rather go in summer. So, he moped around the house for about 6 months and played video games all day long.
Six months came and went, and his “Army” idea went with them. (I guess the novelty just wore off.) Duke was suddenly faced with a new spectrum of decisions. He was a 20-something year old with no qualification, no driver’s licence, and minimum work experience. Luckily, with some persuasion from his step-father, Duke finally decided not to throw his future away, and to apply for an engineering degree at the University of Pretoria. (Why Step-dad steered Duke to a new degree was a mystery, but theories suggest that he wanted Duke to keep an eye on the Sister who was on the verge of dropping out of university herself.)
As (bad) luck would have it, UP refused Duke’s application on the basis that his marks were not good enough. To combat his disappointment, Duke decided to take a short holiday to Mozambique where he drank so much that the next day, when he was on a diving expedition, he threw up in his regulator while underwater. As pieces of regurgitated food came out, schools of fish started gathering around him and were nibbling on the puke. (Disgusting imagery, I know!) Duke survived the ordeal, but needless to say, his mom was not impressed.
Moral of the story? STAY IN SCHOOL!
No, I do not want to star in your B-grade porno!
Every once in a while, an email would appear in my inbox, headlined by subjects such as “Grow another inch” or “Viagra for sustainability”. Such spammages are easy to detect, and they invariably end up in my trash folder without ever being opened.
A couple of days ago, I received an email forwarded from a legitimate source. It was a casting advertisementfor two roles in an independent short film directed by (presumably) a student. The roles were to be filled by an Asian manand an Asian woman. (The director was pretty specific about that.) The body of the email seemed perfectly legit,which I suppose was why the dude forwarded to all the ROCSA (Republic of China’s Student Association) members in the first place. The attached script, on the other hand, was abit more suspect.
Here’s an extract from Act Two: Scene One:
We hear sounds of laughter and happiness. We see the couple enter the front door. They drop groceries, kiss each other. We follow them to the bedroom (We stop at the door). Clothes fall on floor in frame.
Woman: “Are you going to help me with these or are you just going to stand there looking pretty?”
Man: “The latter.”
Woman: “Well, you won’t get any nookie unless you help.”
Man: “Is that a threat or a promise?”
Woman: (laughs) “Both.”
Man helps her get groceries into house but his “help” is more of a hindrance because while she’s trying to unpack, he’s sidling up behind her, squeezing various parts of her body and rubbing himself againsther.
Woman: “Cut it out, I have to get the milk in the fridge.”
Man: (nibbles her ear) “I can think of something cold that needs warming up.”
Woman: “You’re impossible!” (she clearly likes the attentionand is pretending her annoyance)
Man: “I’ve got some meat…”
Woman: “Well, in that case.” (she squirms when she tickles him)
Man: (Pulls her to the bedroom) “Me, Tarzan, you Jane.”
Woman: “More like the bogeyman! Ouch!” (she twists out ofhis grip to dash for the bedroom)
Man: (growls and blocks her passage to the bedroom,smothering her in kisses) “What’s the secret password?”
Woman: “I thought you were the one who was so eager?”
Man: “Oh, I am, but I’ve got something extra special for youbut I wanna hear you beg.”
Woman: (implied that she’s grabbed his crotch) “You call THAT special?”
Man: (Momentary look of shock then his look grows serious)“Careful with the goods, you don’t know what you’re handling there.”
Woman: “I know perfectly well what I’ve got in my hand.(They kiss pull back to look at each other and they’ve gone from playful tolustful) “Mmm, I think I want some of that.”
Man: “Then quit talking and kiss me.”
Woman: (pushes man back into bedroom and falls upon him onthe bed, her hands over his chest while she hungrily kisses his face and worksher way down) “You like it rough?”
Man: (twists around to dominate her, pinning her to the bed)“Not so helpless now.”
Woman: (she appears to want to say something but he silencesher with a kiss. It’s implied that his hand has gone to her crotch and when hestops kissing her she groans)
Man: “You want?”
Woman: “Yes!”
Lol! I think the irony of it all is that I responded to this email (before I read the script), and I eagarly told the guy that I would like to audition for the role, and even enquired about the fee!
Useless Body Parts
When I was a teeny bobber, I had the notion that everything existed for a reason. Never mind what the “reason” might have been, I was convinced that nothing on the planet was in excess. Since then, I had grown taller, wiser, and gained a whole new perspective.
I have identified three things that are completely superfluous, and quite frankly, I think evolution should take its course and rid our bodies of the following:
1. The appendix – Honestly, why do we even have this thing which serves no purpose other than to cause death by infection? Sure, it might have been used to digest leaves when we were still primates, but we are not hairy, veggie-eating herbivores anymore. I reckon the sooner our bodies get rid of this silly non-functional organ, the better.
2. Unwanted hair – I realise some people suffer from “the shiny patch syndrome” aka baldness, the rest of us are cursing and swearing every time we have to go to a beauty salon and fork out R150 for a professional leg wax; or fork out R40 for a do-it-yourself hair removal procedure which can turn out to be rather technical and time-consuming. Not to mention the after-burns and in-grown hairs…it’s just a down right nuisance.
3. Wisdoms – Mine have been growing for about 3 years, and I’m still waiting for the bottom 2 to shoot out. Like the appendix, they serve no purpose whatsoever, apart from giving me headaches and swollen gums.
Of course, all these can be resolved by surgery and laser treatments, but that is not the point.
Desperately searching for a pair of size 4 wellingtons
Ask any Capetonian about the weather and he or she will (no doubt) ramble endlessly about the horrid rains that plague the Cape during the winter months. As if the rain itself isn’t bad enough, the roaring wind will banish anyone’s thoughts of using a feeble umbrella as a shield, because it will be flipped inside out in 10 seconds. Of course, a raincoat is out of the question as well because at varsity, wearing a neon-pink Hello Kitty raincoat is synonymous to social suicide. (Unless you’re a proud member of the BA squad – which I am not – dressing up in anything with a weirdness level of 3+ constitutes as a faux pas.)
However, getting my clothes and hair wet isn’t my main concern. The shoes are what I am worried about. As an economically disadvantaged (read: a step above “poor”) student with many expenses, I only have 1 pair of takkies (or if you prefer to Americanise everything, it’s “sneakers”) that are not very water resistant. Basically, if it rains 2 days in a row, then I’m screwed because it takes +/- 2 days for the takkies to dry. This is where wellingtons come in. They are (in my opinion) awesome – not for their great aesthetic outlook, but for their practicalities. A pair of rubber boots is just what I need to see me through these cold rainy months. In a city like Cape Town, you’d think the shops would be stocked with wellingtons-all-sorts. But, alas! I went to all the shoe shops in Cavendish (FTR: I looked for them in Kimberley as well, but I soon realised that searching for rain boots in a city that never rains is rather futile.) and only Woolworths had a couple of pairs of over-sized wellingtons left over.
Apparently, Pick ‘n Pay clothing in Canal Walk sells them, but:
1. I don’t have a car.
2. I’m too poor to get a cab to take me to Canal Walk.
3. I’m scared to ride such a long distance in a black taxi.
So, if anyone knows of a place in Obs, Claremont or Rondebosch that has size 4 wellingtons, please let me know, and I will forever be in your debt. =]
In unrelated news: A friend asked me to join his stock market game, so if you have any tips on which shares to invest in, give me a shout.
Ramblings
The Trip to CT
The bad news: It arrived 2 hours late, so instead of leaving at 21:55, it left at 23:55 instead.
The good news: None of the passengers displayed pig-flu symptoms.
The bad news: They were like pigs instead.
The Game
Right after I landed in Cape Town, myself, 5 friends and 13 friends-of-friends headed out to Imhoff farm for an afternoon of paintball. It took us a while to find the place, and after an hour’s travel, we finally made it to the farm. The gear was a bit icky but we pulled on the sweaty jackets and helmets anyways and got ready for some action. There was another group of kiddies there whom we had to team up with. Despite their smallness, they were quite agile and some of them played better we did. Since it was my first time paintballing, I decided to stay back and play defence. In the end, I was shot about 7 times (mostly on my legs) and was surprised at how quickly the ammo finished. After 5 games, we’ve finally had enough. Bruised and drenched with sweat, we made our way back to res just in time for supper. It was my first meal in 24 hours and never had res food tasted so good!
First day of lectures
Introductory lectures were boring as usual, and a complete waste of time. However it was nice seeing my friends after 6 weeks of vacation. The University still looked the same, and so did the Gucci-wearing Commerce girls dressed in tank tops and mini-skirts (Yep, in this weather!). Oh, and I finally finished unpacking all my junk. =]
The Battle of the Sexes
While reading Richard Dawkins’s acclaimed book, The Selfish Gene, I came across a chapter that was of particular interest to me, and it revolved around the battle of the sexes. In the past, I have entered into many discussions about the great “male versus female” debate, and in almost all of them, the thread focused solely on the cultural impacts, causes and derivatives; almost little or no emphasis was placed on the possible genetic explanations as to why male behavioural patterns differ from female ones. Dawkins’s book tackled that problem and produced several interesting (and perhaps controversial) views. Before I go into detail, it must be noted that Dawkins wrote about gender disparities across the species, and not just on conflicts within the homo-sapien sphere.
The fundamental distinction between a male and a female has nothing to do with the possession of a penis, or the ability to produce milk. Those attributes are only applicable to mammals; what about reptiles or plants for that matter? Therefore, the one universal feature that can be used to distinguish gender is the sex cells (aka gametes). Males (be it mammals, reptilians, or plants) all have small sex cells while the females have relatively large ones. All deviations (according to Dawkins) are stemmed from this one basic difference. [In certain organisms such as fungi, gender differentiations do not occur. The book deals with them in more detail but they will be ignored for the purpose of this discussion.]
In Dawkins’s book, he sees sexual partnership as “a relationship of mutual mistrust and mutual exploitation”. When the sperm and the egg fuse, they both contribute 50% of their genes to the new being. However, the egg contributes far more in terms of food reserves than the sperm, whose sole purpose is to transport its genes to the egg as fast as possible. At the moment of conception, the father has invested less than his share of resources, and this is where female exploitation begins (Dawkins, 2006:142). Further more, we are all, in essence, “selfish machines”. We want to see our own genes survive and propagate down the generations. One way of achieving this is to scout out and mate with a partner who has strong genes; another way is to simply mate with as many partners as possible. Because male gametes are small and mobile, coupled with the fact that they invest very little resources in the new individual, males are thus incentivised to “spread their seeds”. Females on the other hand are more committed to each child from the moment of conception because of what they have already invested. They are also expected to invest more throughout the development of their children. So in mammals for example, the female incubates the foetus in her body, and produce the milk, and bears the responsibility of protection. In Dawkins’s own words, “If any abandoning is going to be done, it is likely to be the father who abandons the mother rather than the other way round”. Of course, in many species (especially in humans), the fathers do work hard and remain faithful, but nevertheless, there exists an evolutionary pressure on them to invest less in each child and to have more children by different partners.
But all this seem to break down in the face of cultural (and legal) influences. Human behaviours tend to deviate from the “norm”. Fathers can no longer desert completely as many of them are still forced to pay alimony after their separation from their (ex)wives. Fathers therefore contribute more indirectly in forms of material resources. However, this is not to say that the role of genetics is obsolete. It just means that (maybe) we are more influenced by cultural circumstances than by anything else. Will this then affect future evolutionary trends? The book does not say. (Or maybe it does, but I haven’t reached that part yet.)
The PwC Experience
As some of you may know, I recently applied for a vacation work programme offered by PricewaterhouseCoopers, currently ranked the world’s top auditing firm. The programme this year was only 4 days long (as opposed to the customary 2-week programme); and as my snooping censors later discovered, the reason for the contraction was due to the branch taking up more vac workers than intended, thus compelling them to shorten the training period. Despite the week being short-lived, the experience was incomparable and beyond expectations.
Day 1: The 18-odd vacation workers rocked up just before 8 am, dressed in the best office attires, each one looking as nervous as the next. We were quickly ushered to the board room where we would have our first briefing by the HR manager. After the initial ice-breaker exercise, we were slightly more relaxed and chatty. The 18 vac workers were equally divided down the gender line and came from all different walks of life. After we received our free sets of PwC stationery, we were taken on an office tour, and were introduced to the amazing coffee machines from which the best cappuccinos were made. The remainder of the day consisted of various talks and presentations by the PwC employees on topics such as: Auditing, Taxation, PPE (Property, Plant and Equipment), etc. We got a little bit more insight into what the different sections entailed and how it differs from text-book materials. At the end of the day, I felt more knowledgeable and was actually looking forward to what the rest of the week had to offer.
Day 2: The progression went similar to day 1, where the morning was filled with more presentations about financial statements, bank and cash, etc. We also had an extended lunch break where we lounged in the social area for two hours, and satisfied our appetites with a dozen Debonairs pizzas. After lunch, we worked on our modelling project (a team-building exercise). Basically, we were divided into two groups, and each group had to design and create an outfit using recyclable materials. So, we got money from the petty cash and drove to the mall in search of materials. My group ended up spending close to R130, and bought stacks of crinkle paper, strings, glue, marbles, cardboard paper, and others. We worked on our dress until 4 pm, and called it a day.
Day 3: The vac workers were assigned to a PwC trainee and had to shadow that person for half a day. The lucky ones got to go out and visit clients while the rest of us stayed at the office and did mundane jobs such as photocopying, filing, and ticking. The ones who went out however, had the opportunity to see first-hand how casinos operate and what kind of procedures go into auditing casinos. One person even went around visiting the various Departments and Legislatures, and had lunch with the VIPs. The afternoon was once again dedicated to the modelling project where my group tried to bring the design on the paper to life.
Day 4: The last day was very much relaxed. It started with a Q&A section with the trainee accountants, followed by a presentation on Advisory and CSI where we were introduced to the world of forensics, IT auditing, and many more. At lunch, we were each given a R60 Spur voucher to spend on whatever we wanted. I ended up sharing a Ribs & Buffalo Wings with a friend, and it was quite frankly one of the best I’ve had in a long time. We got back to the office around 2 pm and did some last minute fixings to our dress, and waited patiently for the modelling show to start. At 4 pm sharp, we wandered to the social area, and eyed the crates of alcoholic beverages on the counter. The eager beavers helped themselves to the drinks while the rest of us prepared the models for the ‘run-way’. At the end, despite my group’s meticulous efforts, our Princess Ogre outfit was simply no match for the other team’s transsexual cross-dresser, complete with fake boobs, red lipstick, steel-wool wig and tinfoil shin warmers. Luckily there was plenty of booze left for us to drown in our defeat. After we received our cheques (and more freebies!) we thanked the wonderful PwC team for giving us such a wonderful experience, and I went home with a huge dial on my face.
Letting Go
Never a wrong word spoken;
Never a misplaced step.
Not a single rule was broken;
My inhibitions were kept.
Locked up, strapped down, blown away
Into my heart’s abyss.
Secrets, I tried to keep at bay,
Were bottled up and dismissed.
Now the time has come for me
To expand and let go.
Fly the sky, swim the seven seas,
And let loose my self control.
Alcohol, drugs, and much more
Dance for my appetite.
My mind is no longer secure,
Danger, I seem to invite.
The transition, from teenage
To adulthood, is great.
Letting go is part of life’s stage;
To get back is up to fate.
