Can we have a quick chat about this please? [permalink]
I was discussing this with G-man the other day. Umm is it just us, or have you also noticed the incredible pre-vomit-like expression that British Prime Minister, Gordon Brown pulls before and after nearly every sentence? His jaw drops..... and then locks, for a split-second as he draws breath..... and then he carries on talking.
Prime Minister Gordon Brown.
Just about to do the jaw drop.
A better way to describe it would be like those lurches you make before you vomit (a "mock-charge").I couldn't believe it when I first saw it and assumed it was a one-off. Maybe he was tired and having a spate of mini-yawns. Then today I watched a little outdoor press conference held at Camp David with Brown and Bush (I never miss an opportunity to watch Bush speaking live - quality humour) and right there in front of me and the rest of planet Earth, he was pumping out the jaw-drops FLAT OUT! It was SO bad. Surely if it was a habit then they (his advisors and the like) would have trained him not to do it? It can't be good for business. And when you know it's there, it just gets worse. Seriously, you won't be able to watch him speak again.
I simply had to get some footage of it for you and since I found nothing for you on the interestweb, I thought I would record it myshelf and put it on boobtube for you! Why do I do it, you ask? Because my love for you is greater than I can describe. I love you like a son.
Get out of the way!!! Gordon's going to cotch!!!!
And for those of you who for some bizarre reason cannot watch youtube videos, here is a still of Gord's jaw action.
This is just a quick one I found on The Sun's website. It was just before she shaved her hair and was backstage at Club One nightclub in New York with the dancers. Naturally they stripped her down to her jocks and got her to basically brown-eye the camera.
From all accounts, it seems there is a very real fixed minimum number of nights that your chick demands you spend together, with her, in the week. So when you have a girlfriend, you slowly get whipped into adhering to these sleepover rules. Sometimes without even realising it. Next thing you know, you're lying about grandmothers' birthdays just to get a night to yourself.
The sleepover situation is EXACTLY what chicks use to gauge where the relationship is. How many nights a week are we together? That is the all-defining gauge. It is permeated with other finely tuned indicators. For example - how many times are we not having sex during these sleepovers? (at the beginning of the relationship, each number of nights together WITHOUT sex is a stronger and stronger indication that he really loves you and might not be "fucking you around".) And, of course, how many of your personal effects are at his house? Toothbrush? Book? underwear? Shoes? The more personal effects, the more serious the relationship.
I will make him mine...
So back to the sleepover gauge. I would imagine there is a ratio of sleepover time that can be split between the work week and the weekend. You could probably trade one weekend night on your own in return for a full week sleeping over together every night - at her place. If you give her every weekend night for two weeks, then you're allowed two week nights on your own. In a row.
'Cos if you don't do it like that she'll think something is wrong and she will corner you and ask things like, "Where the fuck is this all going? Tell me if I am wasting my fucking time here? 'Cos I'm not going to be your fuck toy!"
Most chicks don't like the idea of you just working on the relationship when you feel like it. That's just not enough stability for our girls. No, no...none of that. They'll go fucking psycho. This is what they mean when you hear guys saying, "Then the chick went fucking psycho!"
So you play along, sneaking in "special" sleep-time on your own whenever you can. You're trying to trick yourself into thinking that there is no routine here and you haven't just woken up in the middle of a "serious relationship," heading dangerously close to "forever."
Next thing you know..... it's been a year...
What the fuck happened there?
She has a whole closet to herself at your house. With numerous outfits in it.
How did THOSE get there?
I know......terrifying..
You see, you went for the wrong angle. You were sleeping. She trapped you with secret messages hidden in her everyday speech. Like subliminal advertising - keeping you oblivious to what is going on. Like when she happens to be with you while you're buying shit for your house and says you should buy a particular fragrance of toilet spray because, she "prefers ocean breeze flavour!"
And there it is! Right there! You don't realise that the moment where you agree that her opinion counts in your home, has just passed. And you didn't even realise! Wake up, chum!
My vibe is different. I'm like......I'll call you. But don't freak me out. Then I'll call you again.
Sometimes I might be pissed. It might be late.
Fucking DEAL WITH IT.
Come for the odd sleepover.
This will continue for some time until you get the call up for the "Sunday Chillout session." Best you be there.
Random sleepovers after bumping into each other in the evenings will continue. Please note that there is NO pattern forming here WHATSOEVER. Don't even try to structure an algorithm that makes sense of it. It is TOTALLY RANDOM. The only routine you could possibly work out, would be the Sundays. That is the ONLY stability here. Either it's one Sunday on, one Sunday off. Or both on. Sometimes maybe a full Sunday, sometimes maybe just an arvee. And SOMETIMES we'll follow through with a spot of Carte Blanche and the 8 o' clock movie and a sleepover.
Don't read too much into a Sunday night sleepover. It's not a big deal. It's just nice to get a blowjob on a Monday morning.
Your big thing to look out for at this juncture would be an invite as a partner to a dinner or an event, like a wedding or a bar mitzvah. You'll probably crack the invite during the first or second coffee date.
You don't have to be a genius to work out that this means I'm cool with the boys getting some face time with you. You get on really well with them and you let me go and play nicely when the whole extended team is out together. Again, we're stressing the MY TIME issue here. We'll work out an angle for you later. But for now, look for c(l)ues..... don't give them.
Next step : make me stuff. Create things for me or buy me stuff. I don't know...... bake a fucking cake....write me a card....whatever. Surprise me with gifts. Again, please be careful here. It's gifts we're looking for. Courier it to me or give it to The P.A. This is not a physical thing. Don't jump out of the fucking microwave at The Safe House or let me find you curled up on my doormat with one of those terrifying skew psycho-wants-to-play smiles. It's gift time. Just gifts. This process will come at a good time and will make me stop for a second and realise that I quite dig you. The only-child thing is probably the cause of this.
You'll get the call up for some more mid-week sleepovers. Sometimes without sex. That's right, you heard me!
Kyk hoe lyk hy nou! Next thing you know, you're doing regular sleepovers!
Now how difficult was that? Notice how there was never a moment when either party discussed where this is going.
Now see how you got what you wanted in the end? Sure, it's more risky for you, as you're never really certain where you stand. Does he love you? Or are you a little whore? Who knows!? You'll just have to see where it ends up. Or get out of there quick. I can't make that decision for you and we're not going to discuss it.
Pre-renovations party on Sunday 29 July [permalink]
They're giving it one last Sunday night blast before closing down for a month due to renovations. Will you be able to miss out your last chance to dance on the bar where it is standing at the moment? No you won't. Everything is changing - bars are moving, walls are being knocked down and, yes, those revolting blue bottle chandeliers are coming down!
As with any successful closing down party, there will only be the sweetest of tunes pumping onto Victoria Road - played by none other than The Personal Jukebox, Sox!
Caprice - pre-renovations closing down party
Sunday 29 July
No model has any excuse to not be gyrating on the Caprice bar counter on Sunday night.
It'll be your standard fuckfest. You'd be a fool to miss it.
Driving like a maniac, over the limit, carrying coke [permalink]
If you're having a bad Wednesday, spare a thought for this little skank.
Official mugshot - average
Yup, mini-Paris really fucked it hard this time. it's only a few weeks ago that she ran away from the scene of an accident and coke was found in her car. Then she checked herself into rehab which she came out of about two weeks ago, celebrating her sobriety, even wearing a special alcohol intake monitor around her ankle. Everything was going well, until last night. She was reported chasing another car, was tested, was over the limit and then the boys in blue found some class-A in her pant.
Whoopsie daisy!
She fucked it royally:
SANTA MONICA – The troubled saga of Lindsay Lohan took another turn Tuesday when police booked her on suspicion of drunken driving and cocaine possession after a frightened woman dialed 911 to report being chased by Lohan's SUV.
Less than two weeks out of rehab, with another drunken-driving case pending, Lohan had a blood-alcohol level of between 0.12 and 0.13 percent when police found her about 1:30 a.m., Sgt. Shane Talbot said. The legal limit for driving in California is 0.08.
Read more HERE and brace yourself for a repeat of the Paris Hilton jail debacle.
In an unprecedented move, we are bringing you a Tuesday Tabs of someone who was on Tuesday Tabs only two weeks before! Whilst we might risk the dangers of monotony, I feel it is well worth it.
I found these pics yesterday. They are so glorious that I simply have to show them to you. We normally only show one Tuesday Tabs pic but, 'fuck it', I thought, so WHAT if we push the envelope on a Tuesday.
It's amazing how quickly they forget. All too eager to please, but forgetting what brought them there in the first place.
It's only a few days after landing the big "One-triple-oh" (1,000 completed pizza deliveries/missions) and you're pumping out a cool five deliveries an hour. Fucking sweet! It's a good evening. Sure, having completed 1,000 "missions" certainly does give you a bit of clout at homebase - you're accepted by the old guard. You've seen some shit....you know your roads and short-cuts. You can puff out your chest a bit, and rip-off the new guys who don't know about Johnny Botha's short cut off Liesbeeck into Obs. But don't get too cock sure of yourself JUST yet, capitano - many a lip in the nip of a tuck caught in the slip.
I was surprised at the speed of the delivery. The doorbell at the Safe House rang a lot sooner than expected so I had to ask the supermodel to go and hide with all the little Cambodian children in the second bedroom - "Daddy has to do some work," I explained.
"Yo," I gave over the intercom.
"And a good evening to you, Sir! This is Butlers Pizza with your order!"
Fuck me, we've got a live one, I thought to myself. I buzzed him in and unlocked the front door before he got there. I didn't want too much face time with this one.
"Pop it in the kitchen," I instructed, looking him over in a millisecond - summing him up before he could say "margherita".
"Yes, Sir, absolutely, thank you, I'll just pop it over there!!" - he was being OVERLY polite. Like REALLY pushing it. Not TRYING to be a cock, but just overcooking it.
He was clean. I wasn't worried about his hygiene. There was something else. No longer able to look directly at him, I was recounting from memory what he looked like, as I dealt with him, in these final stages of the pizza delivery. I gravitated to the bedroom to get the money. I returned with the cheque and placed it is his hand with my eyes to the floor.
"Thanks," I said, grabbing the door handle and pointing to what could only be outside.
He really went for it this time: "Well, thank you very much, Sir. And a very good evening to you," as he seemingly shuffled out sideways, bowing scraping, allowing himself a moment to glance at the cheque.
"And a very most generous of you thank you and a very good evening to you and very generous," he blurted as I closed the door on him vanishing down the Safe House steps.
What the fuck was that about, I thought to myself! What is going through that child's head? I grabbed the invoice to see what I could glean.
"Ronnie on his 1,217th mission" it told me.
I was beginning to piece it together as I opened the pizza box.
Aaah..... everything finally made sense...
Fucked.
Classic case of HSD (High Speed Displacement)
I think I know a little boy who was so confident following the big 1,000, that he drove a bit too fast! Showing off, perhaps? Wanting to leave the Safe House covered in glory? Well I tell you what - I think I know a little boy who should have looked before he leapt!
Well, Ronnie, here's a newsflash: Just because you've driven away from the delivery, it doesn't mean the jobs over! You aren't even close to winning! What if the order is wrong, fuck nut? Hey? What then? A quick tinkle from the client to homebase will land you with a shit sounding DOEF when you make it back there. Then you're REALLY fucking with your stats as you waste your time on the road with a no-earner.
Or, in this case, the pizza was correct, but you blew it anyway! You failed the test. You drove too fast and the pizza has been thrown around. HSD - High Speed Displacement - a rookie error.
Look at it, Ronnie. It's a fuck-show.
Look at it!
Christ.
It's not always about speed and manners, Ronnie.
There's more to it.
'Grace', for example....
For fuck sakes, man..................get over yourself.
Rocking the Daisies 2007 - The Cape's rock festival of choice turns 1 [permalink]
I never was the rock festival TYPE and, although excited, I was a little.... shall we say...NERVOUS before last year's debut Rocking The Daisies festival held in Darling. I just imagined stoned hippies rolling around in the mud with wellies being an essential. I didn't and still don't have any wellies. I didn't need any in the end. It was actually quite civilised. I ate sushi and even had a very short-lived romance...from what I can remember. (Check out last year's post-festival report here). I can honestly say that it was some of the best fun I've had in all my 28 years. So much so that I didn't expect it to come around again. It just didn't occur to me. I thought that something as exciting and with such organisation could only ever be pulled off once. Like that Freddie Mercury tribute concert where George Michael sang and recorded that version of "Somebody to Love". (If you haven't seen that it will blow your fucking head off).
But it seems I was wrong.
People, it looks like we're gonna rock the daisies again! And they're not fucking around this year - bands include The Dirty Skirts, Goldfish, The Rudimentals, Cassette, South Paw, Bed on Bricks, Three Bored White Guys, Taxi Violence and loads more. Also featuring international comedy acts! It's seriously mental!
Rocking the Daisies - 28-30 September 2007
Set in another section of the town of Darling, this time on The Cloof Wine Estate, it seems the boys are putting together something that is going to trump last year's party. There is even a hotel on site. A TENT hotel. That's right, you heard me. Described as "semi-luxury tented camps", this is EXACTLY where I will be staying. I ummed and arrred for a while but when someone mentioned that they have ROOM SERVICE I was sold! They also have breakfast included, 24 hour fireplaces, mattresses, pillows, bar service, electric lighting. It's crazy! Hot showers and more. Look, your mates might call you a poefter, but all they need to do is, quite literally, take a look at themselves. Sis!
There is so much more to tell. This year they're being respectful of our delicate environment and are going for a green vibe. All tickets etc, will be printed on hemp, as well as fuel for generators being run with biofuel made from cooking oil currently being used by the restaurants who will be at this year's festival (the big names, all the names).
That's so weird, just yesterday I was talking about this handicapped athlete who is breaking all the records. He uses a rocket shoved up his arse - and they can't ban him because the petrol that powers the rocket is actually biofuel made from the oil in the potatoes that he eats.
So I thought I would give you a quick heads-up, so that you get your tickets URGENTLY before they sell out. This year's festival is going to be massive! If you've never gone before you'll be a fool not to go. If you went to last year's one you know you're going again! Seriously, if you miss it, you'll probably have to kill yourself when everyone comes back and tells you how cool it was. Or, even better, when they tell you the TBG was there..........AGAIN!
Book now online and pay less. For a full weekend you're paying R265, instead of R350 at the door. Do me a favour!
And we end off with a promo video of the festival with footage from last year's fuckfest. Tune playing in the back is Home Wrecker by The Dirty Skirts. Sick!
Let's keep an eye on this little development [permalink]
I think we're in for a cracker this time round. Looks like Daddy's favourite little trash lunatic is at it again. This is the kind of shit Britters is up to these days. Apparently she also struck her mother in the face. I don't think people need to convince themselves what we're dealing with when we witness a carbon copy of the families on The Jerry Springer Show. We call them....
"Jerry's kids"
Quietly enjoy these as our girl decides to take radical impromptu trips to the beach and strip down into her underwear.
Don't forget, everybody! Your pal, Peter, is fucking dominating tonight (Thursday) on Go Channel (10) at 19h30.
Peter - great to watch
If you don't know what I am talking about you better have a quick read over this.
The newest reality show on TV, "The Loot" features our 2oceansvibe favourite, Peter, quietly owning the other contestants. Get involved and help win Peter a Polo GTi so he can get some quality action from the Claremont birds.
Well it's not our usual kind of TBG sighting, but it's a sighting nonetheless! It's from long distance, but there is no mistaking those gorgeous golden locks! His aura is also quite obvious - even from that distance. This, sent in by John R.
I'm sorry this is not a photo of me with the TBG and I'm sorry it was taken so far away, but I had no option.
I was in Vida e in Green Point last week, before heading off to a meeting and basically froze when I realised the TBG was in front of me in the queue. This was my moment! But I didn't have much time.
Suddenly I realised that my camera was in the car and I didn't have a camera on my phone (how bad is that!). The only thing I could do was race over the road and take a picture from my car.
I definitely felt his aura in the queue but sadly never got to talk to him - I just didn't have the guts.
Does it still count as a TBG sighting?
John R
Wow, John! That is some story! Although there is no real interaction with the glorious man, there is no doubting its authenticity. So, yes, I'd say you got yourself a TBG sighting there!!!
Good work! Next time don't be shy to analyse him a bit more - any new information as to what makes him tick is ALWAYS well received.
A number of you lot have been writing in to complain about the webcam not working. I had no idea that you got such a kick out of looking at the back of my head and must apologise! The machine running the webcam had a meltdown and we had to call dial-a-nerd (021 448 2999) to fix it. It's fixed! Now you can see the back of my head again!
Sick!
Seth gives some head
It's not that bad, I suppose. You also get to see the little visits I get from angels and people.
Live Webcam can be activated, funnily enough, by clicking "LIVE WEBCAM" in the red block in the left navigation menu.
I've been meaning to show you these for a while. I got them for my birthday from the crazy cartoonist woman. She drew them as a one-off and presented them to Daddy Cool at a ceremony held at Haiku. They are fucking brilliant.
Both original Hugo Boss jocks, you'll notice each girl has their one hand softly stroking the section where my sack would nestle.
The Insurance Broker slept over at The Safe House last week and, given that we had both attended gymnastics that day, we ordered pizza. I called Butlers Pizza and before I hung up they asked me to confirm that I only wanted a driver with over 1,000 "missions" (deliveries) to bring the order. "Obviously," I confirmed. Christ, we haven't quite forgotten our little nightmare last time with Ed, have we?
Thirty minutes later the doorbell rang. It was "Dave" from Butlers. I asked through the intercom if the driver had over 1,000 missions. "Oh yes," he replied.
I buzzed him in.
From his initial greeting to the way he took the pizzas out of the bag, you could see this kid was a seasoned professional. There were no mistakes. It just shows how important it is to avoid rookie Butlers. This guy even knew never to turn his back on Daddy Cool, and walked backwards, mid-bow, out of The Safe House.
"Impressive shit!" exclaimed The Insurance Broker as I closed the door.
"Fucking BIG time," I agreed as I picked up the bill to see exactly how many missions he had done.
Well fuck me sideways! Take a look at this!
Let's get you zoomed in a bit there...
Chew on that for a second!
Well it all just made sense. Dave had over 6,000 missions under his belt, ahem...cumberband. At an average of, let's say 10 missions per night, that's like working every day for nearly two years. It's pretty impressive but in my days they didn't have anything to record how many missions we had done. Martin Cummerford would have probably creamed these guys...
I never eat alone and launched into a lunch at The 12 Apostles the other day, with The Celebrity MC. Was good. Besides our very-rainbow-approved waiter, Juan (badge spelt it JAUN) being too hilarious for words, I was also given an astoundingly accurate comparison from The Celebrity MC.
Here it is:
Princess Fiona from Shrek IS Kim Clijsters.
I just knew it was spot on and couldn't wait to lick it out of my laptop after lunch. This is what I found:
Un
canny
I know. It's astounding.
I'll tell you something even more astounding. Did you ever stop and think about the fact that Lleyton Hewitt was banging Clijsters for quite some time? Yes, that's right my little friend! So Hewitt was basically tapping Princess Fiona from Shrek. He was inside her.
Would it be an honour for her if they ever offered a movie role to Clijsters AS Princess Fiona? Or should she be outraged? But she can't be outraged because then she is admitting that she doesn't look THAT stunning. She'll be quite aware that she looks like the princess - she's not stupid. You know when you look like someone else. Like The Kitesurfer, who is QUITE confident that he looks like Kurt Russell. She knows she looks like Princess Fiona, but everyone will obviously pretend that Princess Fiona is hot. Trick her into thinking the movie role is perfect because she is "just as gorgeous" as the princess.
Brilliant!
She would become confused as to what is hot and what is not. She will laugh and snigger and point at the fact that Nicole Kidman looks like Jessica Rabbit.
As tag-along friend lands with his arse in the butter! [permalink]
Lucas R was dragged along to a stranger's SURPRISE birthday a couple months back by a local friend of his. He had just landed in the country from the UK and thought it would be a good way to make new friends. Little did he know he had landed slap-bang in the middle of an organised surprised birthday party for the TBG (Tall Blonde Guy) held at a mansion in a secret location in Llandudno - Cape Town's escape for some of the world's rich and famous!
What could be more intimate and personal, then being a part of a surprise birthday party held for the great man?! That is what happened to Lucas R as he found himself singing Happy Birthday with all of the TBG's closest friends.
Not only did he manage a pic of The TBG, BUT ALSO A VIDEO OF HIM WALKING INTO THE SURPRISE!!!
This is what our boy had to say:
The TBG - relaxed, with his closest friends
Hi Seth,
I have just got back home to Bristol after a two month tour of South Africa, The East and Australia. I was going through some of my photographs trying to decide which part of my trip was the best. I looked through my Cape Town photographs first and there was no need to go any further. I relived the night I found myself at a private surprise party thrown for the TBG by about 30 of his closest friends!
I had been in town for about two nights and hadn't made many friends. An old high school buddy of mine who now lives in Cape Town, Eddie, invited me to a friend's birthday party. Although it might feel a bit awkward I thought it would be a good way to make some local friends.
The guy who's birthday it was arrived shortly after we arrived. We were all hiding in this one section of the house (a mansion in Llandudno owned by some billionaire) and the curtains were pulled apart as the guy arrived. I was fllming it and could only stare with my mouth open at my camera's screen - even on that little screen there was no confusing what was going on. It slowly sank in that I was at THE TBG'S BIRTHDAY PARTY! Eddie just looked at me and laughed. He knew what a big fan I was of The TBG (even far away from the UK) and was dying to see my face when I realised where we were. He promised to introduce me to The TBG and he didn't let me down.
It was a night to remember. I was too shy for a photograph with the global icon and preferred to rather try and act relaxed around him. We even chatted a little bit. I didn't get over excited - I wanted him to think I was cool. So maybe I don't have a photo with him, but at least I can say I see him as a friend of mine now!
So enjoy this video (maybe put it on Youtube?) of the suprise and happy birthday singing for my friend, The TBG!
Cheers, Lucas
TBG SURPRISE!
I am speechless! God, imagine being there! And look how super cool the TBG is when everyone shouts SURPRISE! With that sports jacket of his! What an amazing man - if he is human at all!
From that happy birthday singing, it sounds like his real name is Ralph or Rod. Call him what you want, it won't stop him performing miracles and healing the weak.
