Brain box, what the fuck, dudes?

Ja.  So, you all know I’m an insomniac and that I don’t sleep.  Which means I have to watch stupid fucking game shows on tv when Oprah isn’t on.  Not only is it totally lame, its annoying and dumb and monotomous and even worse, addictive.The stupid fuckers make you believe that only special callers get through, so you keep calling and calling and calling, even though they charge you R7.50 a minute. The thing is, well, I could do with the prize money for guessing the other half of what ‘Sea____’ is, you know? I mean, the answers are all in a grid, mixed up, upside down and totally obvious.

What really grates me though, is that the dumbasses that do get through, get the answers wrong. It’s infuriating! I want to chuck a shoe at the stupid chick presenter, and don’t even get me started on the new hindian fellow who raises his eyebrows and checks himself out in the camera reflection.

Anyway, eTV’s brainbox is keeping me up late at night and it must stop! My eyebags demand it. Either that, or they must let me through!

I’ll be over here, in the mean time, being the girl who psychotically chucks shoes and throws tantrums at the TV each time I get cut from the show. R7.50 per minute later…

A perfect ending to an almost perfect (sort of) relationshit.

Yeah.  I said it Glugs, relationshit.  Only, I’m doing it all backwards.  Instead of meeting online like its happened the last couple of times, I know the guy in real life but he’s moving away so we’ll do the online thing instead and see each other when we can, I suppose.

He leaves on Wednesday.  I’ll see him a bit for a while, before he leaves for sailing at the end of the year. Tonight was the official goodbye to our regular dating.

I’m bummed man.  This wasn’t supposed to happen, he wasn’t supposed to be so nice.  He didn’t even resemble one bit of an asshole’s asshole.  Damnit, why?  It would’ve been much easier to see him go then.

Somebody hand me some more alcohol!

Mon20Q – Vince on Beat Magazine SA, top on the Shitometer scale right now.

Vincent Hofmann is someone I ran into via Twitter. We’ve since been in contact quite a bit and discovered a few similarities. One of them being that we grew up in the same hometown, at the same time, without knowing it and another thing being that we both like to stir the pot and cause a bit of kak.

One of my pet hates in blogging is the way we all blow smoke up each others asses. A bit of groupie cheerleading is okay (such as me with my favourites, I’m not afraid to show some love, but I don’t count in this critique, I’m perfect remember?) but a lot of the time it’s the same people saying the same things about the same events at the same venues on the same subjects. I don’t want to target a particular group (web 2.0 gurus) because we all (only them, not me) do it.

Enter BeatMagazineSA, the anonymous website created in order to get people a) laughing b) talking c) humiliated in a humble way. In doing this, the cyber land was abuzz with guesses of who the writers were. I had my suspicions all along, but have to admit that it was none other than the lovely Ms Eve who verbally guessed my thoughts. Vincent and Saul have finally come forward and raised their white flags. Just in time, according to my sources who reveal that their (now deleted) post on Tyler Reed had caused a bit of madness and mayhem and almost had lawyers out to work. On a Sunday, nogal!

Because I’m so witty and smart and clever and on the ball (read: insomniac, bored, nothing else to do) I convinced Vincent to give me his precious time and grant me the following interview. Hopefully it will appease some of you geeks out there into calming the fuck down and taking BeatMag with a bucket and a half of salt:

Vince, BeatMagSa… tell me yours and Saul’s inspiration for its creation.

To keep this community humble, to inspire them to remain true who they are and shun their reliance on their online personas

Are you bummed you were caught out so soon?

Yes and no, yes because we relied on our anonymity to make observations of the community as a whole, taking in the negative and positive comments and creating a single satirical blog incorporating both. No because it appears our voices came through very strongly which was perhaps not intended but appreciated

Okay, all the diplomatic words aside, what set the blog off, what made you go “hey, these dudes need to be made fun of. I think I’ll start with Rafiq”

Ah, ok. Yes, all bullshit aside, I wanted to see how far I could push the blogosphere – I wanted to take what is said about everyone (you’re next) both the positive commentary and the negative and combine it to form one somewhat concise, delusional blog. As in the case of the blog I wrote about Nic and those commentators who feel his views of the country are biased by his positive perspective. It was commentary which when confronted could either be taken with a pinch of salt or interrogated. Imagine a cartoonist like Zapiro was taken to task every time he made a satirical point.

Bleh, I’m a Jeremy Nell fan myself, not Zapiro. But yes, I get what you’re saying, I fully support what you guys stand for. I’m so sick of the incestuous ass kissing going on in the SA Cyber world.

Well I’m sick to death of the arse kissing to be honest. I hate the idea that 300 / 400 odd people simply all get along, all the time, never really challenging one another, it’s such a farce.

I’m worried now though, because your names are attached to BeatMag, will the edge be taken off?

No, if any thing I will get more vocal, because as you may have guessed I like the speaking thing and I like to stir things up a bit.

Yes, I do know And, the reason I initially started this chat was because I remember something you said to me a while ago, you like calling a spade a spade.

I cannot help it, its in my nature, I don’t sit on the fence, but let it be heard that I’m not an expert / sage I don’t have all the answers and I’m open to being shown that my opinions are off the mark because they are generally subjective. I’m not the messiah; I’m a very naughty boy.

Who is your next target?

A lesbian chick called Sheena.

Oh FOAD. I’m not lesbian!

Hmm, that’s not what it says on BeatMag.

Haha I can’t wait to read it! You not linking to your targets, is that intentional?

Yes, we don’t want to share the love, its internal, the love must be sucked in.

Are you surprised it was one of the first bitches?

The link love issue? Again, I think it’s a measure of narcissism. More than that actually, I’ve been asked to put more links on the site and each time I’ve questioned their intentions, I think that I fear for a community which expects links to return to their sites, Google does not index self worth – most certainly not if you are blogging to share your opinion. I might understand if we were talking about businesses, but I’m afraid the people we blog about are simply people, who probably pick their noses and scratch their privates.

A few people have been wondering who you are and where you came from. Want to give me a quick bio?

Well I’m quite tall, and I have blue eyes. I hail from a small town called Margate and sadly went to a small snobbish school of extraordinarily poor moral values.

Knob! I mean online, where do you slot in?

Where do I slot in? Good question. Well apparently I’m a knob, and I run a couple websites, but my primary interest in a site I co-created with my fiancé called Moralfibre. We’re a small start up clothing / blogging site which will when we sell our shirts become a venture capital fund for young artists, of any medium.

Is it like Springleap?

Good question actually, you already know I think Springleap is a knock off of thread less, and perhaps we’re a knock off of thread less in some way too. We differ in the sense that Moral Fibre is not our primary source of income, it is our hobby and thus try our best to support the artists in whatever way we can, we don’t have prizes, split the profits post the sale of 30 shirts with the artist and try to do everything ourselves, because we simply don’t have the financial backing to do it otherwise.

In a nutshell, if you want our help to create your own brand / label / exhibition etc. then by all means we’re there for you.

Alright, fun questions aside, now onto the all important ones, quick answers, ok?

I’ll try.

What shoe size are you?

10

Favourite toothpaste

Aquafresh

Best SA Band

Silence the Wolves

Current favourite real life blogger

Talita

How much money have you got in your wallet right now?

45 South African rands, roughly half a pound and the ticket to success

Name 5 things you want in a sizeless bag that I offer you [can be anything]

Sizeless? I can choose anything in the world?

Yup

Aston Martin (Talita’s), Lamborghini (mine), a villa in France, my own digital ad agency and finally a record contract for a couple million for my brothers band.

Any final famous last words?

That’s a toughie. I think I’d like to remind everyone that although its difficult, try to relax and enjoy life, at your own pace if possible – there is something to said for those who remain true to themselves in spite of the pressures of the world and can hold their heads up and really say “I’ve lived”.

*crowd goes wild*

There you have it. Straight from the horses mouth, SheBee style!

A bit of a personal catch up on me…

I’m a bit bummed.  This dude is so sweet.  He’s funny too, which is always a bonus for me.  Being as soft spoken and quietly funny as he is, I sometimes find myself hosing at him just because its the last thing I expect.

Things have been so easy.  We kind of just slotted into this comfortable relationship where its easy to be with each other and be ourselves.  Also, he’s a rather good kisser, not gonna lie.  Truth is, I like him okay?  There, I said it.

Problem is, he moves away on Wednesday, to a place an hour and a half away.  To my home town, in fact.  So, the long distance thing has never been my forte.  Looks like I’m destined to always be the single chickie.  I’m bummed hey.

Also, my hair was green today.  My mother convinced me to be a guinea pig for her new hair products and my fucking hair turned green.  Its now been (sort of) saved with a second dye and resembles a somewhat brown/black leopard.  Oh well, I have hats.  Mon20Q to follow soon.

In my opinion, I think this country is moving forward

I mean, look at what we’ve come from:

Nqakula, Charles - The original Defence Minister dude

And now we have this shexy looking fine specimen in his replacement:

Mthethwa, Emmanuel - The reinforcement dude.

All in all, a vast improvement if you ask me.

Kill me now, I’m a psychobitch.

So.  It’s that stage of a dating relationshit where you’re not sure of when you should or shouldn’t ask someone to stay over.

In being completely honest, this is pretty much the first time I’ve been with someone who hasn’t tried to feel my boobs from the first minute.  And apparently he is a boob man.  I found this out whilst IMing him.  No, he’s not a geek, he just likes playing poker online.  He’s someone who doesn’t even know my blog exists and if he did I would actually die, which is strange as most of the people in my life know about my blog.  He has no idea what sort of mad person I am yet, although in movies (whilst holding hands) he whispers to me “please could you stop bluetoothing ‘you suck’ ringtones to the black dude behind us, I’m a little nervous – he’s kinda big” and also let me drive today, so I’m sure that he’s getting a fair idea.

Anyway, I digress.  Its gotten to the point where my friends are looking at me funny because we haven’t, you know… body humped yet.  Not even close.  While I am totally okay with it, I’m a bit confused about the whole thing now – apparently this is unheard of these days.  One of my mates even went as far enough as to say to me the other day; “more than three dates and still no sex is a bit of a wastage of eachothers time”.  After he said that, I was like – what the fuck?  Seriously?  And now the down side to it all is that I can’t stop thinking about humping his leg. God damn peer pressure.

Anyway, so because of all of these thoughts, I say to him this evening whilst overlooking the beauty that is my balcony view, that it would be slightly pleasant if he wanted to “stay over”.  With a deep, meaningful look and everything.  Suddenly an awkward silence ensues.  I mean, crickets chirp, pins and needles drop on floors, I can almost hear people in China saying their morning prayers its so awkwardly silent.  Then the  dude politely turns me down, with some mumble of why he has to leave. Immediately.

Thats right, folks: He. Said. No.

So, naturally – because I’m a girl, I start having a mini mental freak out moment.  What the hell were you thinking?  This is why women shouldn’t come on to men, it should always, always be his first move and left for you to decide – not the other way round. Oh my god, now he thinks you’re horny.  Oh nooooo.  And even then he still says no.  With your low cut top and everything.  He doesn’t like you.  He got an sms and now he’s all quiet and needs to leave.  This is so awkward.  Please die, now. In a fire or something, you are such a loser.

*three minutes later, walking him to his car*

I bet you that was his ex girlfriend.  I bet you she wants to get back together with him.  Thats why he’s rushing out the door.  Mwah, good bye DateDude, enjoy fucking your ex girlfriend.  I’ll just lie here on the couch and wish for a slow torturous death involving spatula’s, rope and possibly a plastic chair… I know I deserve it, for coming on too strong.  Clearly you don’t like me as much as I thought you did, or at least not in that way.  Maybe I’m just a cool forehead of a girl you like to kiss.  There you go, drive out the gate.  Watch out for the taxi to your left as you leave me for your ex skank.

And then, just after I’m ranting to Cath, she’s plotting revenge and interception involving bouncers and dangerous “accidents” I get an sms.  It says:

“Sorry babe, please, please can we take a rain check some time soon?  I can’t believe the timing but I really needed to pooh.”

Marcel just had a baby girl on twitter!

Well, not *on* twitter, but he’s just announced the birth of his daughter.

You wouldn’t believe the reaction. Virtual cigars and bubbly being handed out all round, tears and laughter and mirth… you’d swear we were all in the waiting room with him

This is why I love the internet.

Congratulations, my magical friend, may you enjoy fatherhood as much as my dad did. *snigger*

Ps: have fun tomorrow, sleep late, get lucky, braai some wors… Heritage Day = Yay!

Politics for Poephols.

So, for those of you not in South Africa or living with your head pretty much rammed right up your bottom, I’m here to tell you that I have no president. It’s true. The South African president, Mr. Thabo Mbeki, has been bullied into resigning, evidently. It all smells a bit fishy to me, but what annoys me even more is that I don’t understand the how, when or why. And so I had a bit of a chat to a very political friend of mine in the whole “South African politics” industry in order to;

a) understand a bit more of what all these news articles are going on about, and
b) get somebody else’s opinion to write up this post so that you can also understand
c) create this article to teach those out there, like me, to broaden their horizons and take an interest in our country’s happenings.

Anyway, I spoke to my clever friend in, what he hates calling; “politics” and asked him a few questions I had on my mind:

Please could you simplify wtf is going on with this whole presidential story for me. Why do we have a vice president if she isn’t being used to step up to Mbeki’s now empty position?
She is ceremonial

Which means….?
That she is there is to look pretty

Are you fucking serious? How is this allowed?
It’s normal around the world, actually.

Why? Surely they should be functional in emergency at least?
Because the president is not part of parliament. Of course, they COULD ask her to be president. That’s like saying the president of the ANC should be the president of SA. And lest you have forgotten, Zuma is the president of the ANC.

So who’s going to be our president now?
Well, still Mbeki until they replace him, which will happen within a few days. My guess is that it will be the deputy of the ANC, Mothantle (or however you spell it).

Its only official til he resigns in parliament, right?
Yes.

Why did they ask him to step down, because of Zuma’s shit in court?
God only knows. But it seems that it is because of Zuma’s court thing. Combined with him being a lame duck. And doing little for SA, in terms of Zuma-type policies.

Why did Mbeki listen? Was he compelled to resign?
Well, in my opinion, by resigning, he’s admitting guilt in the conspiracy against Zuma. But he also was probably forced. The facade is that he “is loyal to the ANC and its decisions”

So, ultimately, he could have chosen to stay in, but thought it would be more dignified?
Not really… the constitution doesn’t allow for the president to be a dictator, so if the cabinet overwhelmingly tells him to step down, he can’t really fight it.

How does this compare to Mugabe refusing to step down… isn’t this the same thing Zim cabinets called for?
Well, Mugabe is a dictator, Mbeki isn’t. Mugabe calls the shots, Mbeki can’t.

Can’t or wont?
Mbeki can’t challenge it. But he must go, I feel it’s a good thing. Though I do think Mbeki is a target and is being treated unfairly.

So, there you have it. One man’s opinion puts my political world into perspective, even if I don’t totally agree with all of his theories.

This is so weird for me. Usually I am as interested in politics as a stapler is, but I’m almost excited about this whole thing. It’s like my very same friend from above says, “it’s all about how it affects you. If the government had to pass a law that regulates how many shoes you’re allowed to buy, then you’d see every kugal in Sandton suddenly interested in ‘politics’. Life can’t go on if “politics” had to be removed. It is directly part of life, and it directly affects us. To be interested in it is as important as knowing what food you enjoy.”

History is in the making here, okes. Mugabe over there in Zim is big connections with this Mbeki fellow. They say that somehow they are related, which means that it must run in the family having people ask you to resign from the most important job in each respective company. Sucks to be their grannies, yo. I mean seriously, how’s that for some family Christmas lunch table talk.

Granny: “So Bob, how things going in the office, still getting rotten eggs via post?”
Bob: “yes, but not as many as Thabo gets death threats for touring the world so much”.

Alls I’m saying is that what with all of Thabo’s travel experience, he could possibly approach Mango Airlines and ask for a job.

All the cabinet ministers in Thabo’s boat will probably follow suit, too, in exploring employment, as Zuma is pretty much prepping for presidency I think – and he doesn’t like the Thabo supporters one bit.

Oh, oh, oh! I know – Manto Msimang Tshabalabalabalalalala could start a Fruit & Veg Garden Growing University in the name of support and research for the HIV/Aids cure factor. I’m just saying…

Monday 20Q – Dash does Kathmandu!

Welcome to the first Monday 20Q in oh, about nine months. I know, nine months is a long time to wait for something that was supposed to be a weekly event, but these things happen. This time round, I’ve chosen a subject who is someone that will provide a “funny” interview in that he is from a first world country, living in Kathmandu, Nepal, on a program to make their world a better place through education. If you don’t know where that is, it’s a third world country where shops have no fridges, and street names are nonexistent.

Dash has been a friend of mine for about 2 years now, I think. We’ve never met in person, we come from two entirely different continents, yet Dash and I have spoken so many times about anything and everything that it feels weird calling him an ‘online friend’. Being an Ozzie, for some background information, you might also know him on my blog as Robbo. He has worked for the Australian government for years, and came to a place in his head that told him he needed something more meaningful out of this life, and so he gave up everything to move to a place in the middle of nowhere.

From what I read, his language barriers in Kathmandu are driving him a bit bonkers, but I know Rob, and if nothing else, he’s someone who likes to be challenged. And on to the interview!

Now, how are you coping with your new life?

Pretty good – I just need to get a better sleeping and exercising routine, I think my head would be in a better place with some exercise. But then there are days when I want to belt the shit out of the next horn-tooting taxi or bus driver, shoot a cow and throw it all in and go home. I just wish my girlfriend was here sometimes to give me a hug.

What do you miss most about ‘First Worlding’?

My morning chai latte made by my old housemate, she is such a sweetie and knows just how I like it.
I miss kicking a footy on green grass.
I miss knowing exactly how to go about asking someone for whatever ‘this’ is.
I miss not knowing wherever it is I want to go.
I miss not having people intentionally injuring themselves then displaying their injuries to me in the hope I will give them some money.
I miss not being the target of a million stares and outreached hands, just because I’m white.

They hurt themselves intentionally? W.T.F?
I saw one guy with a 1 cm deep gash all up his arm – semi healed – stick it into my taxi to show me hoping I would give him 50c. Some parents break their children’s legs and then don’t get them medical help so they heal at weird angles, to “guarantee” them an income for the rest of their lives. Albeit through begging.

That’s horrible! What is the biggest cultural difference you’ve noticed?
Man on man and female on female touching. Because sex / touching is totally un-Hindu, they have to compensate. So you see men walking down the street hand in hand. For me, it means that when someone shakes my hand they often don’t let go. Sometimes we are in a meeting and they will constantly tap the inside of my leg. Fucked if I know why! I was warned before coming to be very careful about body language with any women – they can interpret a look or a shoulder touch as a come on – meaning they will either be uncomfortable or think that I want to marry them.

Okay, so you have random gay touching, but it isn’t actually gay?
Exactly. So you won’t ever see a husband and wife holding hands in the street, but straight men do. I’m surprised you haven’t heard about the uproar when they showed an on screen kiss in a Bollywood movie.

That is absolute madness! What’s your favourite thing here that you didn’t have back home?
I only ever order “chha wataa keraa” – 6 bananas at the shop and the suhuji just starts getting them ready for me when he sees me coming. My old corner store shop owner used to know which paper I wanted every weekend back home, but here it’s more of a community thing. And the fact that I have to buy milk in plastic bags or if you sleep in you miss it as you have to be at the shop before 7am or all the milk is gone.

Really, not enough supply to demand?
Well – most shop owners don’t have a fridge – so they have to sell it all in the morning or it goes sour.

Describe your home to me?

Ok, I come in through the squeaky red gate (although I applied some WD-40 to it the other day and you’ll no longer get a peep out of it, I was totally sick of hearing it open at 5am). It is very heavy and opens up to my downstairs neighbours beautiful garden that she spends most of the day looking after.

She is quite a plump lady with a beautiful smile and a very nice demeanor. We never have much to say to each other, but I think her English is quite good. She has a black dog I understand they call “big Blackie” and her husband is a thin tight lipped man who nonetheless seems very nice. Anyway, you then go down a little path and up the stairs, past Jingo (little blackie, another dog) and around to the left. Go past Crazy Neighbour lady’s flat (and her two boys, don’t know what’s happened to their father). Go past the usually locked door that leads upstairs to Reeta (the Didi’s house). There you will see my tiny double doored entrance with a thick looking padlock on it.

And inside, a bed, a night light and a book shelf? Does it feel like home?
Definitely, I am loving living alone actually – no “issues” to worry about.

By the sounds of it, our (South African) poverty is on level to your living standards at the moment. Or at least, the neighbourhood you’re in is.
Well, I have running water, which my neighbours don’t. Apparently that ledge and the sink were quite the hit with crazy lady when she came to visit. She started rattling off something very enthusiastic and tested its weight bearing capacity. The shower and sink in the bathroom were another oddity to her, probably the toilet too as most people squat over one of those hole in the ground style things, so I take it I am actually living quite well. I really don’t think of SA as third world. Then again I have never been there.

Yes, I think you are living quite well by their terms. By the way, it is called a ‘long drop’, the toilet.

I think if I didn’t have a home at least slightly suited to my first world needs I would probably be in a different place mentally. All the windows have bars on them – kind of oppressive, but necessary. It’s strange. Come to think of it, I’m lucky that this place is furnished!

In closing, I offer you a bag of five items, any items in the world, what are they?
1. Tim Tams [beautiful chocolate biscuits (oh you sweet, sweet Tim Tams)] Actually, my high school music teacher is blowing into town on the weekend with a little care package for me that I understand includes tim tams…
2. a DVD player – for some reason upon leaving Australia I got it into my head that I would not be watching DVD’s. They are cheaper than a dollar each and every now and then you need that escapism, you know?
3. chai latte – i’m scared to even ask for one
4. a good internet connection
5. and a scarf with my girlfriend’s perfume on it if, of course, you can’t fit her in there.

Cute. Okay, all important question: what are you wearing?
Flip flops, jeans (rolled up a quarter of the way so they don’t get covered in muck, be it cattle poo, mud, bike oil or goats remains), and a blue polo (bless this sweet country, at home I’d be wearing a shirt and tie.

Any famous last words?
If I’m dead tomorrow tell them it was the momo’s. Oh, and I most certainly did not do this interview while at work.