Where in the World?

  As many of you may already know, Wrenna has been out here for over two months now.  It's safe to say that the 'adjustment period' is now over... both for south africa and her classes.  If you're interested in learning more about the strange differences between american and south african universities, you'll have to shoot wrenna an email.  I'll be taking you through all the fun and excitement of the months since her plane landed.

 

  In addition to seeing day three of south africa versus england in a five-day cricket test match, we managed to see a soccer match between south africa and zimbabwe.  I even took a loaf of bread to wave at the zim supporters tauntingly but forgot it in the car.  I did take the ol' djembe drum in and had an amazing time. africans operate just one drum beat away from a dance party so add in a three goal victory over zim and you've got a happy crowd.  The game was in durban's new moses mabhida stadium and being in it for a big match is just breathtaking.  all the negative hype from the past few years about south africa not hosting 2010 might even make sitting there that much more special.  The stadium is amazing.

 

  Valentine's day was spent in the drakensberg.  although gaining recent popularity for its cameo at the end of last summers blockbuster film '2012', the drakensberg is best know for its biodiversity and rippling stone escarpments that stretch for miles (kilometres).  wrenna and i managed to tag along with the local 'mountain club' branch and the result was luxury.  during the soccer in a few months, the very same people we were with for the weekend will be charging to lead hikes.  the hiking party had two cooks, a bird expert, a flower expert and 71 year-old woman who has hiked every inch of the berg many times over.

 

  we slept in a cave that fit all twelve of us and in the nearby tarns (pools of water in the stone) were little mini-ecosystems that were simply indescribable.  James the flower expert pointed out that at the bottom of some of the tarns (underwater) grow plants and because the water is so clear they photosynthesize no prob.  the only thing is that in order to reproduce they need their flowers to be pollinated... so they send up little stringy vines to the surface where the flowers blossom.  this flower is only found within 5km of where we were standing.  turns out we were also standing a few yards from the lesotho border.  wrenna and i found a gap in the barbed wire fence and quickly jumped into lesotho, officially making the camping trip an international expedition.

 

  during the last stretch of the hike, iona the 71 year old asked us to tread lightly so we didn't scare away the giant brown puff adder that lived under rocks right next to the trail we were hiking.  she'd only seen it once but wanted to see it again.  your ankles were no more than half a metre from two snake holes that easily could fit a giant snake.  they live on rodents and hikers.  i don't know what snake shit looks like but if it looks like a small snake, then there was snake shit all over the trail.  wrenna, for the record, is afraid of snakes.  also for the record, the expression "they're just as afraid of you as you are of them" doesn't apply to snakes.  the expression, "they're just as oblivious to you as you are of them" unfortunately holds true.  also not applying to brown puff adder snakes is, "they're just as likely to bite you in the ankle when you step on them as you are to them."  THEY DON'T HAVE ANKLES.

 

  in work related news, my major cable-stayed bridge project is only a few months from completion.  i used to think i was up high when we climbed up to the deck level.  now the scaffolding goes up to the top where the stays will attach.  that's more than twice as high as before.  oy.  about 60 metres.  like a 20 story building.

 

  the most exciting story to relate is that i'll be going to the netherlands in late march to visit SSI's parent company DHV.  late last year i entered into a DHV policy paper competition in which teams from offices from all over the world submit business plans implementable by DHV.  i had an old idea lying around that i'd almost forgotten about.  i punted the idea to some super talented young SSI colleagues and voila, three months later and we've won.  we're gonna fly out early and come back late to make sure that, as young-ssi's delegates to our overseas colleagues, we have time to visit the sex museum.

 

  wrenna will unfortunately be stuck in pmb taking exams and submitting big reports.  if this sounds unfair to wrenna, it is.

 

  it TOTALLY is.

 

 

Who Will Make It To The World Cup?!!!

no matter how much i prepare you for this video, you WILL be left doubting its authenticity... and i don't blame you. i thought i was on a drug trip when i first saw it. i know you must be confused so i'll create a little FAQ. here goes.

- what channel was this on?
the channel was cnn international

- what the fuck?
I KNOW!!!

here's my favourite part: go to www.homelessworldcup.org... THEY HAVE A HOMEPAGE!!! your browser tab will read "Home - Homeless World Cup".

once you've come to grips with your disappointment for not buying the rights to "homelessworldcup.org" (and "romaniatourism.com"... that would be "websquatting") you've probably started getting excited and patriotic about the tournament. on the tip of your tongue is the same question asked in the months leading up to any international soccer tournament: "who will make it to the tournament?!"
i mean, who will literally MAKE IT all the way there?

the netherlands is sending their team with one-way tickets.

why doesn't fifa combine this tournament with their already popular world cup beach soccer tournament and create a 'beach / bum' tournament?

after the game, the players trade jerseys... for food.

every four years, countries from all over the world get together and decide who will host the tournament. last year milan showed up late and lost.

is the homeless world cup made out of styrofoam?

wait wait, come back, i'm not done yet.

- cristiano ronaldo plays for the portuguese national team and mario plays for the portugeuese national homeless team

- ronaldo is real madrid's 80 million pound striker.
- mario is an 80 pound striker

- ronaldo is first in line to take free kicks
- mario is first in line to take free meals

- ronaldo came off the bench in 2006 to score a goal against greece
- mario spent 2006 on a bench covered in greece

- ronaldo has a shoe deal
- mario has a shoe

please don't hesitate to add further with your questions and/or comments

cheers

Wu-Hoooooo!!!!

after two heart-wrenching notices of 'unsuccessful' applications for fifa 2010 tickets (one rejection in phase 1 and one rejection in phase 2) i had begun shaking my fists at the heavens. my ire should have been directed less upwards and more westwards... as it turns out, in a clear indication of growing american interest in the beautiful game, team specific tickets (tst) for the united states (usa) are the most sought after tickets for 2010. south africans are the only nation to be buying more tickets than usa but, by my estimation, the south africans aren't purchasing bafana bafana tickets but instead stadium specific tickets. remember, this is a big country. would someone in california apply for a game that might take place on a wednesday in new york?
this news about a mass yankee migration made me decide to seek out a new direction. i'm happy to report that, after adopting the same strategy that earned us tickets in germany for 2006, i have finally tasted success.
i was quickly awarded (at category 2 seating no less) the first four matches for...
SOUTH KOREA!
...and yes, yes... the fourth match is assuming s.korea makes it out of the group stage...
but regardless, the day after i paid for the tickets s.korea beat the u.a.e. to guarantee their place in south africa... so it is on for 2010.
the next step is to wait. it won't be until october that the qualifying matches will conclude and then the first week of december will see the draw.
until then we can only hope (for our sake not the s.koreans') that spain, the netherlands and usa end up in their group and that the games will be played in durban, cape town and polokwane.
time to get it on. no choice but to get it on.

In Other Soccer-Related News:

a week from today starts the fifa confederations cup.  for me it'll be an excuse to enjoy a four-and-a-half day weekend in joburg. for the participating teams it'll be an invaluable opportunity to see what the climate is like this time of year in south africa as well as to get a feel for the grass (meaning the sod, not the durban poison).  it'll also be a chance to get a feel for playing in a stadium filled with the noise of drums and vuvezela.

In Other Soccer-Related News:

this saturday saw the first ever inter-office soccer match for SSI in kzn.  the idea has been around for some time but never was acted on until a fortuitous project meeting where i needed to use our environmental branch to report on the ecology of a job site.
when, kushela, the environmental consultant that was assigned to the project mentioned that he played soccer, the discussions for a derby began.
in the following four weeks, to everyone's benefit, kushela took the necessary initiative to organize a field, food, drinks and his eleven-man durban side.
unfortunately, pinetown seemed to use up all their energy in the preparation for the match and had none left to use on the pitch.  at the half, several mercy acts were enacted to reduce the amount of goals being scored by maritzburg.  these acts involved:
-    giving them some of our players
-    making me a striker

Worm Holes

time travel will always be a hot topic for discussion.  maybe not so much in the future once costco gets their hands on the technology to make them for the average joe but for the time being, time travel is a wildly exciting speculative subject for conversation, research and film.  science is even making it an accepted and plausible possibility.  it used to be that time travel required the use of (and i'll put these in order of ascending plausability) a delorean, a silver flying walnut or a 1x4x9 black monolith.

but ever since we were sold on the theory of wormholes, we just nod our heads whenever someone in a film is expelled from a bent-light-sometimes-liquidy portal half a metre from the ground, lands awkwardly, stand ups, brushes themself off and exclaims, "we must have traveled through a wormhole!".  must have... so i'd say that a bunch of chalk-fingered astrophysicists with doctorates have got us hook, line and sinker with wormholes.
and naturally, 'hook, line and sinker' brings me smoothly to my next discussion point:

worm holes.

have you stopped to think that there are two radically different doctorate research programmes out there with basically the same name?  one involves the concept of transdimensional travel by bending space-time to create a wormhole. the other involves studying worms in holes. 

the worm-propulsion subject (in particular marine worms) was brought to my attention years ago when a friend's girlfriend, kelly, began her research that has now culminated in a ph.d (and tons of awards) on the subject.  i think at the time she wanted to know about strain guages in jell-o.  kelly has been passionate about the worm holes for practicaly forever and not too long ago was listed in pop sci as one of their 'brilliant 10' for her research with polychaetes.

but i'm not here to lecture on astrophysics or even sediment crack propogation mechanics.  as always, i want to stress the importance of grammar and proper spelling.

if every august you find yourself in a grassy field lying on your back staring at the heavens for the leonids showers, on your college application under "major" put "wormholes".  however, if you're facing the opposite direction during these meteor showers, be sure to write the underscore clearly.  "worm_holes".

Two Things: Part one

two things:

i'll be the first to admit that america might not be most educated when it comes to stuff outside its own borders. in fact, people i meet here (read: young white people) don't have a problem reminding me that americans they've met in their travels to the united states are laughably ignorant of life here in south africa.
"americans think we have lions just walking around here! like they walk through our grass huts" and "were you surprised that we had airports here?"
they're right. the only time i'd ever thought of south africa as a teenager was when i was assigned to read "July's People". For those of you that have read "July's People", an exploration of the social impact left by apartheid in a fictional (nay, predicted) world that followed apartheid to its natural conclusion: war, you can only imagine what sort of outlandish misconceptions i had developed of the whole area. this was 1993... i think i was too busy trying to get the attention of anna, my first real girlfriend, for me to pay attention to mr. hilbert explaining the actual political climate in south africa when nadine gordimer wrote this book.
that being said, when confronted with these anecdotes about americans, i originally had trouble standing up for my people seeing as i was both totally confused and utterly disinterested with regards to south africa before i came here. after all, every time bugs bunny, elmer fudd, felix the cat or any pre- politically correct cartoon character found him/itself in subsaharan africa it was inevitable that one or more of the following occurred:
- the main character would end up in a giant metal pot with the subsequent carrots, celery and sneeze-inducing salt and pepper
- a thick-maned lion or bengal tiger would chase our hero from right to left and left to right several times. a joke would usually occur involving the lion's mane or the tiger's stripes.
- the black natives, wearing grass skirts and bones through their noses, would break into song... predictably a percussive jazz number. JAZZ?! we all know that if the same cartoons were being made today, the natives would be rapping and dancing like chris brown.
- if johnny quest or any hannah barbara cartoon drama were taking place, quicksand would rear its ugly head.
so in our collective defense, these were our impressions of africa.
but the best defense is a good offense. to defend the honour (whoops) of my fellow americans i now turn the tables on those who wish to ridicule you.
with alarming regularity, when i announce that i'm from california i get asked if i've met any celebrities. usually the drunker, younger and girl-er the person is, the more specific the celebrity. Johnnie Depp, Nicolas Cage, Ice Cube and Snoop Dogg top the list. Paul Reiser, Archimedes and Stephen Jay Gould round out the bottom.
so whenever i'm mocked for americans thinking that south africa is nothing but talking lions battling for the 'pridelands' with hyenas and using mackaws as their consulate, i now counter that the same south africans honestly think that Tom Cruise routinely borrows a cup of sugar from me.
this brings us to the picture at the top of this article: further fuel was added to my fire when my parents visited and, in fact, the nearby lion park had its fence blown over and the lions escaped.
who's living up to their stereotype now?!

I Enjoy Nouning

This brings us to part 2.
Newspaper sales are different here than they are where you come from. 'paperboys' here stand at traffic lights ("robots") early in the morning wearing red coats walking up and down on the dashed line carrying an armful of papers. if south africa were to make a video game of 'paperboy', it wouldn't be half as exciting as the american version where you end up riding a bike through an obstacle course complete with tire targets and jumps over rivers, all whilst being pursued by zombies and killer bees. i guess you could argue that the south african version of 'paperboy' would be 'frogger'.
the sad sad joke being that the life (not to mention income) of a paperboy in south africa is far more perilous seeing as they basically stand on the dashed white lines and reflectors as non-customers are zipping past them frantically trying to get to work while distractedly reading the newspaper they bought at the previous robot.
in this day and age, the era of 'newsies' are behind us. there's no more "extry, extry, read all about it!". bullet-proof tinted windows, 6 speaker car sound systems and potential language barriers all impede this form of advertising. so newspapers canvass lampposts with summaries of the top four or five intriguing stories that you can learn about if you shell out the nominal cost of a newspaper. the "lions still on the loose" is just one example.
but i'm not here to discuss the whereabout of game in pietermaritzburg. i want to discuss headline ambiguity. lots of nouns moonlight as verbs... for example: the word "moonlight" and in these hyper-distilled summaries when an editor chooses to create a headline comprised ENTIRELY from words that can be either a noun or a verb (or adjective)... well, watch out is all i'm gonna say.
i'll start off with these:

- pension age rate flags
- graduate fights protest fine
- rape pupil hides

that last one felt like more of a weird command than a headline...
anyhow, this all reminds me of the headline paul found in the sac bee when we were in college:

- judge blocks sailor's discharge

this was back in the day of "don't ask don't tell...

remember, share 'em if you see 'em.

Poo's Your Own Adventure

about a year ago i was asked to contribute an article or story to a friend's upstart 'zine. i'm not down with the literary circles of the bay area like i once was so i couldn't tell you what people write about in self-published mini-mags these days. regardless of whatever is mainstream, michelle was starting a 'zine about "shitting oneself". now whether she had chosen this subject matter because fecalphilia had gone mainstream since i'd left the country (what are the odds?) and she thought she could make millions or because she felt a duty to fill a niche market i forgot to ask.
all i know is that she was starting a poo 'zine and she came to me.
i don't claim to be an expert on the subject. i've never taken an oath in court and testified as an expert witness on the subject and only once have i ever been credited in a documentary or film involving poo-related hijinx (twice if you count the video where jeremy jaeger defecates white to abdicate himself of witchcraft charges).
below, please find my submission. it's a 'choose your own adventure'. one interesting note is that i had one of my interns proofread it to make sure the pages all linked up. probably didn't see that as part of his job requirements when he was studying civil engineering. so i humbly submit to you the first "Poo's your own Adventure" entitled:

MR. BROWN GOES TWO IN WASHINGTON

“Shake him again.” Are the first words you hear. You’re instantly aware of your own weight and dull pain running up and down your right side. Shortly thereafter you realize that you are being shaken. You recognize the voices. They belong to your best friend Paul and his sister Suzie.

Suzie says to Paul, “He couldn’t have forgotten.” and this instantly wakes you up. Your eyes open quickly and the light floods in and stabs the back of your skull. You were sure it was four in the morning but the bright daylight confirms your fears that your family is arriving at the airport this morning and your alarm didn’t go off to wake you up.

As you scramble to your feet you realize why your alarm didn’t wake you up. Your alarm clock is next to your bed which is 15 miles away. The sign outside reads, “Pizza and Pasta”. You are the manager.

“What time is it?” You ask either Paul or Suzie. Over their shoulders you see customers in the parking lot confused by the open door and chairs still on the tables inside.

“Late.” They reply in unpracticed unison.

If you choose to return home and change and shower before going to the airport please turn to page 13

If you choose to lock up your store and head straight to the airport please turn to page 4

Page 4

“No time to lose!” as you reach into your pockets for your keys. You pull out two sets, neither of which are familiar. You throw them in the tip jar as you run out the front door. You pause briefly to mimic locking the front door so as to convince the customers in the parking lot that unfettered access to balls of pizza dough and pre-sliced pepperoni isn’t theirs for the taking.

“Where’s my car?” you ask.

“Maybe your family will want to help you find it.” Says Paul. This sends you into a panic sweat. Your balls are drenched and you feel an uncomfortable pit form at the bottom of your stomach.

Turn to page 6

page 6


You jump into the backseat of Suzie’s old Geo Prism. The movement has made you aware of the effects of last night’s binge. The Jaegermeister you taste on your breath has radically softened the already delicate stool consisting of Taco Bell’s latest ethni-fusion: the nacho stir fry.
”Run, don’t wok to the nearest toilet” you mutter ominously to yourself.

“You smell like a bar rag.” Paul informs you as he pushes the passenger seat against your knees. Bringing your knees closer to your chest has the anticipated effect and as soon as the doors close a pocket of gas moves like an overfed St. Bernard to the back door. It wants out.

If you choose to relieve the pressure immediately, turn to page 80

If you choose to hold it in and spare your friends, turn to page 79

Page 7

The road to the airport is uncrowded. With the exception of a deep rumbling deep in your stomach, the debacle of the past night’s binge is starting to fade. The wind blowing in through windows has a calming effect and your mind wanders.

Suzie snaps you from your mindless wanderings. “Paul, do you think we should stop for gas? We weren’t planning on taking our car to the airport so the tank is kinda low.”

“We’ve got enough,” he replies, “but we either refill now or after we pick up his family.”

“Well before we pick them up, you two are dropping yourselves off at some political rally right?”

“Heil Hitler.” They say in practiced unison.

Turning to face you, Suzie asks, “You must be hungry. Do you want to stop for a bite?”

If you choose to pull over for a bite and refill the tank, turn to page 9

If you choose to keep driving, turn to page 1,000

Page 8

When you finally reach the freeway towards the airport, cars are moving slowly.
”Must be an accident… road was fine when we went to find you at ‘Pizza and Pasta’”

You immediately regret the previous detour. Time is no longer on your side and you begin to get nervous.

You picture your family waiting at the airport terminal, holding their luggage and waiting on the curb breathing in taxi exhaust and you immediately begin to perspire again.

The nervous feeling of butterflies hits you and spreads to your stomach. Immediately your stomach rumbles loudly.

“Please don’t tell me you’re hungry.” Says Suzie.

“Ummm.” Is the only response you can muster. All of your energy and attention is focused on clenching your asshole shut. “Divert all power to rear shields Chewy!” escapes your lips. Confused, Paul mimics a wookie, and rolls down the windows as a precaution.

You feel like Gallipoli is taking place in your lower intestine. Deadly gases and trench warfare are all you can think of. A single bead of sweat runs down your temple. The buildup is unbearable. You realize you’re not even sitting anymore but completely stiff as a board. If a butterfly were to land on your abdomen you’d explode.

If you can’t stand it and ask Paul to pull over, turn to page 50

If you think you can hold it in, turn to page 61

Page 9

“Let’s pull over.” You reply. Your stomach, which agrees with your decision but is being disagreeable on all other counts, rumbles audibly belying activities that rarely end cleanly.

You pull into a small gas station and Paul begins filling the tank.
”Can I get you anything from the shop?” you offer politely.
”Snap into it!” is his reply.

At the counter you grab a bag of Lay’s chips, a sprite and two Slim Jims for Paul.

“Can you tell me where the restroom is?” but even through the inch of bulletproof glass you can see that the answer to your question is reserved for the desperate. His cocked eyebrow reads loud and clear. “If you can hold it, you should hold it.”

“Oh Yeayuh.” Paul says as you hand him the Slim Jims.

Again, squeezing yourself into the back of the Geo Prism, the uncomfortable positions and shifting involved, has shifted a large pocket of gas.

You jump out of the car before Suzie gets in and you attempt to relieve the pressure. Unfortunately you realize that riding the tail end of the gas is nacho stir-fry that has been marinating overnight in six shots of Jaegermeister. Convinced you can hold it, and picturing the much more pleasant airport restroom, you fan three times behind your ass, jump up and down twice and spin around once before getting back in the car.

Turn to page 8

Page 10

You point yourself at the Domestic gate and pray that you’ve made the correct choice. As you approach the curb where your family should be you can see a large crowd gathered and some commotion. Your stomach ties up in knots. Guilt. Fear. Concern.

As you get closer you see the cause of the commotion. Two monkeys are throwing their feces at everyone leaving the baggage claim.

The monkeys are your parents

Your parents are monkeys. You didn’t shit your pants but your parents are monkeys.

Page 13

“Would you mind if we go home and grab some clean clothes first. I smell like sour milk.”

Paul takes a deep breath and replies, “It’s your call.” And points the car away from the airport and towards your house.

Your eyes roll back into your head and you fall into a restless that is interrupted only five minutes later when the car stops in your driveway. You quickly climb through the rear window and let Paul and Suzie in the front door.

As you jump in the shower you hear the familiar sounds of “The Fairly Odd Parents” coming from your television. The warm water seems to wash away all the ills of the previous night or two and it’s only the strongest act of willpower that pulls you out of the warm shower and into a clean t-shirt and debatably clean jeans.

“Let’s roll!” you exclaim as you burst from your bedroom into the living room. You’re feeling unstoppable.

“Your crotch is still wet.” Says paul getting up slowly.

“It’ll dry in the car. You guys ready?”

The Geo Prism speeds away from your house.

Turn to page 8

Page 50

Through gritted teeth you exclaim, “Pull over!”

Naively Paul shouts “Dude! Don’t throw up in the backseat!”

“Just pull over man!”

This is easy and difficult all at the same time seeing as Paul is in the middle lane of traffic that isn’t moving.

“Um.” Suggests Suzie.

Your stomach makes more noise which this time can’t be mistaken for hunger but instead something far more insidious. Off comes Suzie’s seatbelt and she opens the passenger door in the middle of traffic. Looking around, you feel like you’re in the middle of the scene from “Independence Day” where everyone is trying to get out of Washington D.C. Thinking of Jerry Bruckheimer only makes you have to shit even more.

Turn to page 2719

Page 61

You think of baseball. After all it had worked in the past to prolong your ejaculation. It works. The armies amassed at the gates of your sphincter were turned away. You celebrate and mentally pump your fists in the air like the Negro regiment in that Matthew Broderick film you watched in Junior High and High School.

“Can you guys name a film other than ‘Glory’ that everyone has seen six times but has never once paid to rent?”

A peaceful silence follows. After some time Suzie pipes up. “Donald Duck in Math Land is a distant second.”

Heads nod in agreement. Traffic is still barely moving and time is passing. Your parents’ plane is probably landed by now and you still have to drop Paul and Suzie off in town at some political rally and then get to the airport.

“By Jove, let’s take the side roads. At least we’ll be moving.”

“Capital idea.”

Turn to page 1000

Page 68

You let the phone continue vibrating against your thigh as you speed to the airport. You check the clock on the dashboard of the Prism. 22:15. You subtract twelve to account for Suzie setting the alarm in non-military time in the PM.

It’s a safe bet that the phone call was probably your family calling to say they are at the baggage claim wondering where you are but seeing as you’re only ten minutes from the airport you speed along.

As you approach the terminals you realize that you forgot to check to see which airline your family is coming in on and hence you’re not sure of the gate to meet them at. You have to make a quick decision. The signs read “Local” and “Domestic”.

If you choose to go to the Local gate turn to page 90

If you choose to go to the Domestic gate turn to page 10

Page 69

You dig deep into your jeans and try to extract the cell phone. You fumble around and drop the phone under your seat. At the first traffic light you bend down to retrieve it but bending at the waist turns you into a cake decorators frosting gun. Before you can close the airlocks you frost the inside of your pants.

You’ve shit yourself. Your parents leave everything to the cat.

Page 79

You decide to hold in the gas. The same laws of chemistry that govern the atoms in the sun are playing out in your abdomen and the expanding pressure pushes out several beads of sweat on your forehead.

You’re starting to look and feel like the fat man from “Who’s Line Is It Anyways?” except you’ve removed your right shoe and are using the sock as a kerchief to dab your brow.

Unable to relieve the pressure by removing your pants belt (you’re not wearing one), you realize there are only two ways to relieve the painful and uncomfortable bloating. The second option involves a caesarian section.

It is at this time that a trapped pocket of gas that has been waiting anxiously behind a stopped 18-wheeler turd on your intestinal highway decides to pass on the shoulder. The pocket of gas, eager to get to work, speeds along the shoulder and slams into the traffic cop that is your sphincter. All the methane and sulfur pockets are furious and the taco bell stir-fry is letting new commuters on at every on ramp. The backup seems to go on for miles.

An uptight pocket of gas shouts, “linch the sphincter!”

If you choose to bend to the will of the mob and fart on Paul and Suzie, turn to page 80

If you choose to continue holding it in turn to page 79 (again)

Page 80

“Thanks again for picking me up guys.” You say as you let out a cocktail of gases.

“Our pleasure.” Starts Suzie. But Paul, who was looking in the rearview mirror noticed that you inexplicably leaned three degrees to one side whilst you said this.

“I’m gonna kick your ass if you just did what I think you did.”

“Wha-“ starts Suzie but she stops her question as both front windows begin to roll down. “Dammit. Go Paul. Drive!”

You slump down comfortably in the back seat as the Geo Prism speeds out of the parking lot.

Turn to page 7

Page 90

As you drive into the airport you look carefully for your parents at the Local gate. At first you don’t see them. Instead, standing on the curb are sixteen clowns in all their clown glory. “I can’t believe they’re allowed to travel like that.”

Then you see the humpback whale on the curb.

Bells are ringing.

You slowly open your eyes and realize you’re lying down on the floor of the pizza and pasta shop that you manage. The bells are customers trying to get the front door open. The smell is a corn-infested shit that you took around page 2719. The good news is it’s mostly contained to your underpants and cargo shorts. For good reason you’re afraid to stand up.

You’ve shit your pants at work and you don’t work in German porn. Consider yourself fired and disowned.

Page 1000

This turns out to be the best and only good decision you’ve made in weeks. You’re delighted when you hit roadblocks miles earlier than expected.

“Closed because of your rally guys. Guess you’ll have to walk from here.”

You leap into the front seat and thank Paul and Suzie for their help as the throw the Prism into first. As you’re about to put it into second you feel a vibration coming from your pants. Unexpectedly, it’s just your cell phone.

If you choose to answer your phone turn to page 69

If you choose to keep driving and ignore the phone turn to page 68

Page 2719

You run into the median, the only part of the freeway with some shrubbery to provide a little privacy. You can feel the eyes of everyone in their cars on you but the sensation is nothing compared to the full body pain you feel.

Like a penguin you waddle around looking for a nest in which to give your warm and explosive birth. You sense the collective gasp of your fellow motorists as you squat and pull pants and undies down with one movement.

The shit is like a liberal arts graduate: directionless and misguided. Much of it lands on your heels and finds its way into your shoes.

The satisfaction of relieving the unbearable pain is now gone but instead replaced with worry. How can you get in the car with so much shit on your shoes? You look at Paul and you can tell he’s thinking the same thing.

That’s when you lose your balance. You were lightheaded already and now looking to your right and left has left you with just enough vertigo to topple backwards into your own mess of fiesta compost.

This time when you look up to see Paul he’s motioning Suzie to get in the car and lock the doors. As he honks at the cars in front of him to move, you realize your ride is trying to get away from you.

You’ve shit yourself on the median of a major highway. You’ll be on the evening news and everything around you except your face will be pixilated for the sake of the viewing audience.

Mass Email

sorry about the mass email everybody but i'd like to argue that email has no mass.

argument complete.

nextly, i feel like a bit of a criminal only communicating via these mass emails.  am i breaking the rules of netiquette?  i guess i'm fine breaking the rules as long as i don't go overboard and start breaking the laws of netiquette.  or maybe i am.

i think if one only communicates via mass emails he/she is breaking the law of 'conversation of mass'.  it's really just a simple restating of the law first stated by ePicurus between 325 and 275 BCC.

hello?

i think my page counter is spinning backwards thanks to that one.

Taste - Test

yesterday, on the way to squash with a scottish coworker, the subject of a beautiful female doctor in town came up. quick to come up with an excuse to see a doctor at his age, he decided to "make an appointment to have his colon tested".

the scottish accent made me double-take.

eat your pineapple derek.

Sistine Sound Wall

last year i taught at my company's saturday school in edendale, a 'disadvantaged' area of pietermaritzburg. paul and kate, in addition to seeing what schools look like just a few kilometers from city central, were able to see me stumble my way through almost three hours of lessons in chemistry and drafting (draughting). when my parents came out i somehow managed to time it such that my dad, a retired chemistry teacher, taught the review session the weekend before the nationwide matric exams in the chemistry subject. two stones etc.

but enough of the beautiful stories about americans making the world a better place one lewis dot diagram at a time...

edendale is an area that travel agents put a big pink highlighter 'X' through because travel agents just assume that nobody wants to see goats, chickens and cows wandering between mud shacks and metal crates used to cell airtime. or if they did want to see it they would have just driven to mexico.

a newly built two-bedroom house in edendale (with running water, toilets and electricity) starts at R 220,000. less than many a mid-sized automobile. there are only three problems:

1.) you won't get a lot of your coworkers visiting you.
2.) there's no freeway access
3.) when there isn't enough water or electricity to go around in pmb, edendale is typically the first to be cut off from either or both. we're talking days at a time without being able to flush your toilet.

on the plus side, there just may be a thriving art scene. below please find some of the murals on the wall facing the entrance to edendale's sukuma primary chool.

Sign Language

if someone told me that an average american speaks 0.75 languages i wouldn't argue. i speak only english which i think makes me either;

'unilingual',
'monolingual',
'cylingual' (greek?),
or just plain ol' lingual.

but if i think that i'm so masterful with the english language how come i can't i summon the word that comes two words before bilingual?

sublingual?
millilingual?
unlingual?
keanulingual?

so i guess i should feel bad being cylingual and making fun of all the spelling and grammatical errors i see all around me here in a country with eleven national languages... some of which i can't even pronounce still. but i won't let feelings get in the way. i simply must share some of the gems i stumble across.



in this case, the 'good thing' that you can't get to is the toilet.


















just like the 'loose a turn' in the film 'office space'

















when i went to use the other door, it too became close.

I Have a Tender Opening

i know every professional has it's own dirty-but-accepted terms... well, actually i really only know the ones in structural engineering

  - erection stages
  - stiff member
  - jacking force
  - butt tight

and so on.

well my job responsibilities have brought me face to face with my new favourite expression in my line of work. yesterday i got to tell our receptionist as i walked out the front door that there was "a tender opening across town that needed my urgent attention".

so i guess after that it's all downhill from here...

anybody got any more to cheer me up?

300 Kilograms

Nate, Jon and Pecos of '300 pounds' have returned from their tour in the southlands. from where i'm sitting it still looks north. maybe slightly less north.

the question on everyone's lips here in south africa is: why haven't '300 pounds' brought their licks here to the cradle of humanity? to rock the cradle so to speak... well, one thing stands in the way kids, if you want to be an international rock star you can't limit yourself by naming your band with just metric or just imperial units.

tips for international band names that aren't limited to just certain parts of the world:

minus zero kelvin
the light years
ton(ne)s o fun
smoots' one feat

i guess if you're a hard rock / metal band you can walk the razor's edge with names like 'dragonforce' (ambiguous units) and 'dream theater' (cinema or theatre in most parts of the world). just ask trent reznor next time you see him.

Oh, What On Earth Shall I Delaware?

i'll be the first to admit that i'm a little out of touch with what the celebs are wearing on the red carpet in hollywood these days. but thanks to an easter package that arrived the other day from justin and marissa i think i can safely assume they're all wearing t-shirts with fish on the front.

what a great shirt. i get jealous of the hanger when i'm not wearing it.

in what can only be assumed to be a part of their further baby-proofing their house, they mailed me a box of peeps and gag-flavored jelly beans. and thanks to the contents of their package, those of you that have been wondering if it's possible to mail me food, the answer is now a conclusive: 'that depends'.

so with the peeps out of the house, there is now room at the swett house for their second child... sigh... and it seems like just yesterday we were dragging marissa to go see 'children of men' and asking 'who could conceive such an idea?'

justin, you said you like the short blog entries. i can't imagine writing a shorter one than this one. oh wait, i have an idea...

Cosmic Bitch Slap

30 months ago when i signed the papers to come out here i don't think it ever crossed my puny little mind that when i applied for tickets for world cup phase one i would be denied on all counts. well, that's what just happened. a cosmic bitch slap two-and-a-half years in the making. my mom always said i'd believe in god someday when some beautiful miracle like the birth of a child occurred... well, it works both ways.
you know that greek guy that was punished by the gods by standing in a pool for all eternity with food and water that would forever recede from his reach when he tried to quench his thirst or hunger? his name was 'tantalus'. i feel like him but picture instead of a tree that magically moves away from me it's fifa.com's random ticket lotto system.

a classic tale retold.

by the way, it's from tantalus and that story about fifa.com that we get the word 'tantalize'. so now you know that if you meet someone at a bar and they tell you that the word tantalize was derived from a story involving them, they're lying to you.

by the way again, did you know that the word 'titilate' is derived from an allegorical story involving some tantalizing stuff yours truly did when he was in college..?

When Pigs Fly

well, they said it would never happen but i hear there's a big deal about 'swine flu'.

in dissimilar but tangential news i finally made the connection between amelia earhart's rumoured past as a lesbian and the rumour that she disappeared into the bermuda TRIANGLE... it couldn't have been more obvious unless she disappeared over a rainbow.

Walking Under the Corporate Ladder

without going into too much detail, since the last blog entry i've been busy (more on busy work to follow).

the stream of events sorta went like this:

- i stepped up to fill a vacant position as regional representative for ssi's 'young-ssi' (yssi). for every 10 full-time staff ssi has under 35, there serves a rep to look after their needs etc.
- i was informed that i'd passed my master's diploma comprehensive exam.
- i was then elected to serve as a 'maverick'. for every region (mine is kwazulu-natal inland) the reps have a maverick to serve as their representative to the maverick council.
- i was then nominated and accepted for the position of associate within ssi. if you've seen the episode the simpsons where homer grows hair and gets fast-tracked, this is ironically the reverse... my hair has begun leaping of the top of my head.
- yesterday i again was asked to step up to fill a vacancy as one of the top four mavericks to represent the mavericks at executive meetings. the joke is that there's one other american in the whole of ssi and she's one of the other three top mavericks. her name is erin and she's up in gauteng. during our monthly teleconference calls she's the one i understand the easiest.

Good News For Whatever Ales You

in one of the most exciting developments in the curbing of my homesickness i was made aware of a young upstart named stuart robson who lives about 45 minutes from me on the way to durban. not too long ago stuart moved out here from england with his wife, young child and enough pounds to start a brewery in the valley of a thousand hills. for those of you that are familiar with the area, the valley of a thousand hills is an area looking to become a tourist destination similar to the midlands meander.

instead of being tucked between pmb and the uninhabited but beautiful drakensber, the valley of a thousand hills is tucked between pmb and the massively inhabited durban. the midlands meander is home to kzn's main microbrewery, 'nottingham road brewery' the maker of pretty much the only ale in kzn not counting boddingtons or kilkenny out of a can. unfortunately, some years ago, the founder of nottingham roads whistling weasel ale kicket the bucket and left only the equipment and an 8.5x11 sheet of paper with the process written on it. the beer is now brewed in the midlands in a 'paint-by-number' fashion and tastes as such.

on the other hand, stuart robson seems to be a super-taster with not only a clinical knowledge of brewing beer but a sense of adventure in brewing that i haven't seen since Nili's hibiscus beer. stuart brews many a beer, one of which is modeled after californian makes of beer. it's not the greatest seller because it's miles different from the common south african beer but to me it's the greatest reminder of home that i've found over here.

and as if stuart hasn't done enough already, he's now developing his brewing grounds into a venue for hosting outdoor music shows. i went to one of his events. pure heaven. the stage is on a hill overlooking the lights of durban, behind you a little bar sells his line of beers and to top it off a catering table sells spicy bunny chows if you get peckish.

one of the bands playing that night was a south african act 'stealing love jones' (not be confused with martini-lounge band 'love jones') who gets regular spin on south african radio stations here. popular enough that they're now living in southern california peddling her music to all you guys. when i bought some of their music i handed the rands to the lead singer (esjay). the manager (read: handler) then flew in and said, "you can't give the money to her, it has to come to me." "or it goes straight up her nose" i finished. esjay looked caught off guard and said, "who told you that about me?"