Oh Carol

I took a walk to Sandton City earlier, needing to get some fresh air after beeing cooped up in the dealing room all week, just getting up to go to the loo and to get the occassional cup of coffee. Besides the aching feet, blisters and all, it was a rather successful trip, having avoided extravagant purchases (times are hard, hey). But I could not resist walking into CNA, it's the one shop I just have to have to have to frequently visit to drool at DVDs, CDs, books and mags, my one-stop heaven. I didnt walk out empty-handed. While browsing through the sale baskets, I managed to find some gems, CDs that no one wanted, for a mere R39.99. I found good ol' oldies like Judas Priest, Smokie, Cranberries, The Bangles (yes, they were good, ok?) and Cypress Hill.

As soon as I got back to my desk, I ripped them all on my laptop so I could take a trip down memory lane while I bored myself to tears with my work. And lo and behold, as I randomly browsed through my selection, I saw that Smokie had a song called "Oh Carol". I didnt even know this one existed. Well, fuck me sideways, just how many songs are there based on my soddy name? And why always pick on the Carols, Carolines, Carolinas (I have been called all three at one time or another)??? I am sure this must be the most common name to write a song about? Or am I wrong? I am a victim of musos out there!

Lol, without trying to sound arrogant or letting it all go to my head, since I dont think anyone has actually written a song about ME (though I have being serenaded a few times several songs that do in fact have some variation of my name in it), lets list some of these gawdforsaken songs:

1. Oh Carol - Smokie (I'm listening to it now)
2. Oh Carol - Neil Sedaka (one of my faves)
3. Sweet Caroline - Neil Diamond
4. Oh Carolina - Shaggy
5. Oh Carol - Boyzone
6. Carol - The Rolling Stones
7. Caroline - Outkast (hilarious. My shit really dont stink, ok?)

And I'm sure there are more. Know of any? FFS.

Hey, and dont forget about the freakin', bloody Christmas Carols - even they couldnt leave my name alone. And oh, how ironic that one is, hahahaha (for those that dont know me, I was born on Christmas Day). How bloody hilarious.

What do you get when...

...an accountant, a lawyer, a java developer and a high school dropout go cruising in a Daewoo appliance of a car one late Saturday afternoon? Complete and utter chaos. Catastrophe! And no, this is not one of those an accountant etc walk in a bar type of joke, though it may well sound like it! Hahahaha.

So, the story goes like this. Saturday afternoon, the above culprits, aka Weasel, Ferdi, Shawn and Basti, armed with booze and meat, were making their way to Michikin’s birthday braai, having just picked Basti up from his home. Now anyone who has been privy to Weasel’s driving skills, will get an idea as to what happened next. He can get a “tad” adventurous every now and then, and this is what he did said Saturday afternoon driving down quiet Kessel Street.

According to my narrator, Ferdi, there was a woman driving in front of them, followed by a metro police car. The former was driving painfully slow, with her hazards on, so the police car decided to overtake. This wasn’t speedy enough for dear old Weasel “I think I am better than Schumacher” so he decided to overtake the police car! AT THE SAME TIME!!! So picture this, three cars driving abreast, in the same direction. Holy mother of cows, what was he thinking???

So of course, he gets pulled over by the police, which consisted of a chubby woman and a small trainee officer. All four delinquents get told to get out the car, open the boot (which of course was full of alcohol) and put their hands on the roof of the car. As Martin later pointed out to Ferdi, at this stage it would have been really funny (or not) if Basti had bolted back home. Imagine him being chased by this pair? I would have rolled on the floor with laughter. Wait, actually, imagine Basti RUNNING!!!! Bwhahahahahaha.

Ferdi felt a bit courageous and took his hands off the car for a moment, maybe to scratch his ass or pick his nose, who knows, but immediately he gets snarled at by the female cop to “put his hands back on the car”. The poor trainee had the honour of searching the boys, and played a game of what’s that in your pocket. “What’s that?” “It’s my wallet”. “Take it out”. “What’s that?” “My cellphone”. “Take it out”. “What’s that?” “Nothing, I am just happy to see you”. Right.

After all that, Weasel gets reprimanded for driving recklessly and so they let them all go. I can just imagine the giggles in the car afterwards. And all this before they even got to the party! Gotta love Weasel. Lol

The Boring Form

You know how you sometimes get these emails asking you to fill in random, sometimes very useless information about yourself and then forward it on to all your friends (who should really all know you by now)? Well, lately I have been getting them once too often and I have to admit that boredom gets the better of me. I complete them all and select a few victims to send this to. They probably don’t even bother reading them (I mean, really, some of them are flippen long) but occasionally I get a few replies here and there. So here I have compiled some of the most useless questions, and come up with some wacky answers – do you honestly think I am going to give you my home address and criminal record here? Think again.

Happy reading. Or not. Your funeral.

Full Name: Queen Cazzy of the Evil Underworld
Date and Place of Birth: 25 December 1 000 000 BC, Hell
No, no, your REAL Date of Birth: Um, 2 000 000 BC???
Height: Short-ish
Weight: Big bum, so….
Sex: Anytime
Home Address: 6 Burn Drive, Hot-in-the-City, 666, Dungeon Province, Evil Underworld
Profession: That’s obvious - Ruler of all evil
Hobbies: Biting necks, sucking blood, collecting toe nails
Interesting Bodily Scars: Use your imagination, I have been around for a while and carry a lot of plasters around with me.
Academic Qualifications: Honours in Evil Spells and Rituals
Previous Jobs: Tom, Dick and Harry
Blood Type: Red and lots of it. Yummy.
Car Type: Flaming Lamborghini
Criminal Record: Stole plenty of hearts
Do you like blue cheese: Yes, it goes well with toenails. And hearts
Do you own a gun? FFS, I am the Queen of the Evil Underworld, why would I need a gun?
Wax or Shave Bodyparts? I prefer to tweeze
Real or Fake Nails: I am all real, baby
Favourite Christmas Song: Jingle Bells Ferdi Smells
What do you prefer to drink in the morning: A bloody Mary (preferably a nun)
Do you have ADD? What? Me? Um, what? Ooooo look! Shiny paper!
Worst Trait: Burping out the alphabet
Favourite Sport: Gladiators
Dislikes: Goody-too-shoes, avocado
Favourite Place to Be: Cazzfest Dungeon
Do you own slippers? Hell no, only pussies and old wrinkly grannies wear slippers. I wear flip flop.
Favourite Colour: Fuchsia
Song you sing in the shower: I love you, you love me, Barney gave me HIV
What’s in your pocket right now? A banana
How many pets do you have? One monkey and three penguins (and boy, do they complain about the heat! All I hear is “where’s the f*cking snow? Damn global warming!!!! Where’s the f*cking snow?)
What were you doing at midnight? Gravedancing
What time did you get up this morning? I don’t sleep
Favourite TV Show: Dexter (Oh this is so true)
Last film you saw at the cinema: Dark Night – bloody fantastic. Anyone want to let me do the pencil trick on them? Moooohahahahhaha
Breakfast: Entrails
Favourite Item of Clothing: My red cape, much better and less gay than Superman’s
Favourite Vacation: Mars
Morning / Night Person: I am a creature of the night
What did you want to be when you were little: Big
How are you today? Full of shit
What are you listening to right now? The voices in my head. You should listen in on the conversation, we are talking about cloning Ferdi.
If you were a fruit, what would you be? Gay
Favourite toy as a child? Whips and chains
What is under your bed? My toenail collection
What’s the time? GET A FREAKIN WATCH YOU MORON!!!
Favourite Holiday: All Hell’s Eve
What would you like to accomplish before you die? Team up with Eric Cartman and hide all the hippies in his basement.





I certify that all of the above is – COMPLETE BULLSHIT.

Double Whammy

Getting up on Saturday morning was a mission and a half so while Ruan and Tai went to do some shopping, I got ready in slooooow motion. The day I had been waiting for weeks had finally arrived – Thornfest 2 at Tempos! Hell Yeah!

By the time the boys got back, armed with pizza and guitar strings, I was ready to rock ‘n headbang. Until I finished my breakfast/lunch, then sleepiness kicked in so Ruan and I took a power nap which almost made us late! We arrived just in time to see Tempos packed with rockers; 5 on the dot to see our buddies, Fragmented Children. Their new female vocalist, Sam, never failed to amaze me. Boy, can this girl scream! You rock, babe!

After that we watched Deity’s Muse, a band I really dig to watch but don’t often get the chance to do so. What a talented band. After that we mostly hung around the bar, waiting for the next band to finish so our boys could get on stage. Sometime after 7, Torment finally came on. We moshed, we drank Jager, we took lots of self-portraits, heheh. But most of all, we rocked our asses off. What a great crowd!

Then it was back to the bar for some more damage though I managed to watch some of Knave and Chromium as well. My memory is a bit fuzzy (damn those suitcases) but we all had a kickass time, forgetting that we had to be here the next day for another round of damage.

I woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and mounting hunger for some sustenance. Getting up was not an option, but after much insistence from Ruan that I had 3 hours to get ready to get to Tempos (I do not take THAT long, pffft); I got up, miffed a bit then began my cleansing process. Turns out that I took less than hour and still had a few minutes to spare, hmmm.

While Tai took all the gear in the car, Ruan and I raced to Tempos in his bike. What a thrilling ride. I’m getting used to the speed very quickly now; 180km/h seems like nothing! Go FASTER FASTER FASTER!!! We made it a few seconds before 3, just as we were told. Most of the band was already there, chilling and looking as fresh as daisies, lol.

I swore I was only going to drink coke and/or water, but I thought, what the hell, lets have some brandy and coke, though this time I paced myself a great deal. And only ONE shooter, right at the end.

This time Torment played on the upper stage, which I rather hate cause I have to look up to see the band. And it doesn’t allow for much interaction from the crowd since they are so high up. Sunday’s crowd was much older, quieter and since most of us were pretty hungover from the previous night, we made quiet a dead, boring, audience. But that didn’t bother the boys as they had fun on stage and mucked about a bit. I had a good laugh when dearest monkey broke his guitar strap near the end but still managed to finish the song, albeit badly (so he says).

We hung around for about an hour after that, then had another awesome ride on the bike back home so I could pack my stuff and get ready to go to the movies with Eugene and Rene. We waited for Tai to get back with the car then drove to Cresta. I was feeling beat and sleepy after all this partying but I was amped to see the Dark Night so I made an effort to stay awake – though I gave in halfway through the movie, closed my eyes and I was gone. Not that the movie was boring, cause it wasn’t. Heath Ledger (RIP) was absolutely brilliant and hilarious as the Joker, and Christian Bale super suave and handsome as Bruce Wayne/Batman. But after a few nudges from Ruan, I was wide awake and caught the last twenty minutes or so of the movie. Guess, I will have to watch it again!

What a weekend!

(check facebook for more pics!)

Back to the 80s!

My Friday night turned out to be more eventful than expected. Since my hairier half was having a quick band session that evening and catching up with me later, I decided to indulge in a long bath and take my time getting ready. I had barely set one foot out of the bath when I get a phone call from Bianca. I contemplated not answering since I hate answering the phone in the bathroom (people sometimes think you are doing something else in there) and returning her call a little later, but something made me pick it up immediately. I am glad that I did. She phoned to tell me that she was picking me up in 15 minutes (15 minutes!!!) and taking me to Mousetrap at the Dome; the boys would be joining us later.

It’s amazing how quick I can be when given a little push, because I am famous for dawdling (spelling), poor Ruan has had to put up with that a lot. I got dressed, stuffed a ridiculous amount of clothes and toiletries in my gym bag and was ready to party by the time Bianca and her friend Julie arrived. Dragging my extremely heavy bag, I jumped into the car and off we went.

We got there just before 8 so the place was still practically empty and took a long time before the crowds started to fill the venue. The theme of the evening was mostly 80s and some 90s music, plus with tons of drinks specials, we were in our element!

Several drinks later we got some courage and strutted our stuff on the dance floor while the boys sat and watched. Poor things looked extremely bored but us girls were having so much fun we just couldn’t stop. It had been a long long time since I last danced so much. It reminded me of my good old days at Bourbon Street and Hurricanes. Damn, I miss those days! (and doesn’t that make me sound like an old fart, heheh).

There is nothing better than 80s music. Who can’t help but sing along to the likes of Starship, The Dyvinils, KC and the Sunshine Band and more. The DJ also played some good old rock tunes from Bon Jovi, AC/DC and Green Day. That’s when my monkey actually joined me for a dance or two. He wanted to leave early, but each time I convinced him to stay “for another 5 minutes”.

We left just after midnight, but not before a whole stack of balloons were dropped from the ceiling, with little freebies inside. I popped one and got a free shooter voucher, I think it was called Dynamite. Considering all the bugs Bianca and Julie bought for us, I was surprised I managed to have just one more shooter.

On the way home we stopped for some sustenance and then off to the bat cave, since the weekend was just starting for us! HECTIC! Stay tuned for more…

Gimme da beef, not da shicken!!!!

As I was surreptiously walking through the aisles of CNA at Cresta last night, I get a call from my Dad telling me we have been invited to dinner at Jimmy’s Prawns by Shawn’s family and that I had to cut my shopping experience short, race home and get ready. First thought, family outing – yay, we haven’t had one of those in ages. I was actually excited, who would have thought. Second thought – oh shit, its prawns, I don’t freaking eat freaking prawns!!!

Many would agree that I am a fussy person when it comes to food, and I have been forced to admit that I am. Even as a child, I would throw myself on the floor in a fit of rage if I didn’t get the food I specifically wanted. When I think back, I cant believe that I hated tomatoes and spinach (picture a tomato-less pizza – just dough and cheese. Yes, my poor mother was forced to do that for me). Something I still loathe and abhor, is chicken and seafood.

It’s actually funny how many people forget that I only eat beef (and it has to be well done. Dead actually. Don’t give me something that’s still alive cause I wont eat it). Just the other day, I was having lunch at the Baron with some work mates, and one of the “hot topics” of conversation over several bottles of red wine, was my particular distaste of chicken, and its origins. The very next day, while poking through the “delicacies” that were being offered by three people who were celebrating their birthdays, one of my colleagues, who was present at the lunch the day before, tried to offer me a prawn cake. I looked at him as if he was crazy, and he returned the look when I told him I don’t eat that stuff. Slowly, our previous conversation dawned on him. I swear, some people have the memory of a goldfish. Yes, I know its not common for someone to hate chicken and seafood, but please people, make this mental note stick: I ONLY EAT BEEF! Everything else is excluded (not only chicken and seafood – note, anything that comes from the SEA, don’t try give me oysters, caviar, or prawns, I WONT EAT IT – pork, lamb, kudu, ostrich, crocodile, cat, dog.). Funny enough, I eat ham and bacon. Weird – told you I was fussy.

So why all the fuss? Well, seafood is smelly. If my mother tries to cook that in our house, I try stay as far away as possible as the smell is bad enough to bring my last meal right back up. The other meats just give me the creeps for one reason or other. The chicken, however, has the best story.

Some of my earliest memories go as far back as when I was a tadpole. Joking. When I was two, living in the house my grandfather had built in Buenos Aires, Argentina, we had several chickens in a coop in our modest garden. Every morning I would go and feed them, and play with them. They were my very own “pet” chickens (now I think where my preference not to have pets comes from as well. Geez, my parents f*cked up my childhood).

One bleak and dreary morning (might have been sunny, but due to the following course of events, I am making it as horrible as possible), I go out to the garden to get up to my usual mischief and self-entertainment, when horror of horrors, I was faced with a bloody scene before my eyes. Standing by a table, with a big, bloody knife and mean look on her face, was my aunt (may she rest in peace), butchering one of my chickens for what would supposedly be our next lunch. I cant recall what happened next, just that scene stayed permanently glued to my brain, reminding me of that gruesome morning.

Needless to say, I never ate chicken after that. My mother tried to trick me several times by “sneaking” in the chicken in my food. Many times she succeeded, but eventually I outsmarted her every time and refused to eat until she made me something else. Ok, go ahead and say it – I am spoilt brat. To this day, I get something different to eat when she cooks chicken. I will not eat it.

Funny enough, I have seen one or two cows being slaughtered at one time or another, but these events happened at a much later stage when I was old enough to understand where our food came from. And I never had a pet cow called Clarabelle or Daisy. So it was all good. And no one can keep me away from a good old hamburger from McDs or Wimpy. Impossible.

I tried to go vegetarian once to be a bit healthier since unfortunately I had to pick the worst meat for my daily nutritional needs. That lasted about two months. I couldn’t resist the hamburgers, and steaks. And having pasta without bolognaise sauce was just not on.

So going back to our family outing last night, I was glad to see that the menu included some non-seafood delights like one of my favourites, rump steak. Well done, of course. Dead. Not alive. Accompanied by some awesome, crispy onion rings and chips, I was stuffed and satisfied, but not before I indulged in a Lindt chocolate mousse pancake. Weasel was convinced his name was written on the pancake with white chocolate, and after much irritation and persistence, he scored more than half of it since I could not devour any more of the chocolate richness. A small taste of it would have been enough.

The dinner was quite fun and enjoyable but I soon realised why we don’t go out as a family often – you cant take these people anywhere. For Christmas, I am getting Ferdi and Weasel one of those little old lamps you get to call the waiter. Then they can switch it on and off to their hearts content.

How about makin’ bacon? (that’s one for Ferdi)


Mooooooooooooo.

Tales from the gym

After a 3 month-plus hiatus, I returned to the gym, huffing and puffing, on Monday night. Having barely recovered from a two week long bronchitis and flu, I might have been a bit over-zealous as I almost passed out on the bike. But determined as I am, I stuck to my guns and completed a 40 minute workout, ran for my life in the pitch dark back home while the cold air burned my lungs and did weights and stretched for another 40 minutes.

While at the gym, I realised why I enjoy going there so much. Not only for the great sudden burst of energy and all-round feeling you get after a good workout, but also for all the weird and wonderful characters that you come across there. Even after my long absence from the gym, I saw that not much had changed since then. The energetic masses, from all walks of life, were there to work off their winter indulgences, pretty much like I was.

You have the hot studs (mainly the gym instructors) who pull back their shoulders and walk around like they own the place – I still cant help staring and drooling. They mainly hang around the circuit as doing cardio is almost beneath them.

Then you have the pretty, fragile Barbies who barely break a sweat so as not to pull a hair out of place or ruin their label workout outfits. But then again, they don’t really need to exercise, do they?

The ones that really make me laugh though, are the trolls and freaks. Which hole they crawled out of, I don’t know. These people certainly are not worried about their appearances and would make Vernon Koekemoer’s wardrobe look like Armani. Picture neon gym shorts in all sorts of bright, beautiful colours, thick striped baggy pyjama pants, oversized tank tops and those stupid boxing championship belts (someone loves to show off).

So yeah, liquorice all sorts at the gym. Now I am contemplating whether I should get off my lazy ass today and make another round trip over there. Having stuffed my face with sweet delights at work, maybe I should?