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Archive for June, 2005

I am a die-hard Star Wars fan and I completely understand the obsession with memorabilia, comics, books, fan art, toy weapons, action figures, costumes, etc. But how far would one take this obsession? Appararently… not far bloody enough.
Behold the lightsaber dildo!!! Now you can take your fantasies to the next level… or let them take you to a galaxy far away. I wonder who’s “equipment” it was modeled on? Darth Vader, Ob-Wan, or perhaps Mace Windu? I think we can safely rule out Yoda, although I have been told the size of the man(?) has very little to do with the do with the size of the package.
Brings meaning to the phrase, May the Force Be with You, doesn’t it?

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Today, while in the midst of doing a presentation, a colleague made a singular comment regarding the financial figures I was presenting to the audience. What struck me as odd was the choice of the particular word the person used to convey his disagreement. In fact, I found it so odd that I burst out laughing and could not stop laughing for about 2-3 minutes. Ridiculous, I know! I really need to find more exciting things to occupy my time with. Of course there were a lot of surprised faces around the table, but I just couldn’t help myself. It was clear that he disagreed with the numbers I presented, but when he yelled “Piffle!” at the top of his voice, I lost it. Who the hell uses a word like “piffle” in this day and age? I am sure the guy caused an anomaly in the space-time continuum when he uttered that word. I also leant that nothing makes people miss the importance of what you are saying than a fit of inappropriate laughter.
Words are strange things aren’t they? They can hurt, they deceive, they make us laugh, they make us cry and a good word at the right moment can make a world of difference. There are certain words I will always associate with my grandparents and how they pronounced them. Others make me remember cranky neighbours, old friends, the neighbourhood drunk, the owner of the café on the corner, football coach, etc. Forgotten words – forgotten people.
I remember when I was in primary school the grade 4 English teacher always use to say, “Gobbledygook”, whenever one of us used a word inappropriately or out of context. She was an old spinster and it made the use of the word seem even more comical. I would sometimes do it on purpose just to hear her say it. Gobbledygook, indeed… how the hell this word even come into existence?! Hehehe… no matter how many times I heard her say it, it would make me double over in a fit of laughter. In turn I received a lot of detention, but it was worth it.
Then there was the math teacher who would say, “Poppycock”, whenever you were called upon to do a math problem on the black board and got it wrong. This one was a firm favourite with all the kids and we would break out in fits of adolescent laughter. Somehow the conjured up image of a penis perched on a stalk seemed an incredibly funny thing. Yeah, I was a weird little kid, even back then. Now the thought of it simply makes me cringe and cup my hands protectively in front of my crotch.
I guess the piffle outburst of this morning unlocked a hodgepodge of memories that I had kept deeply buried in the recesses of my brain.
Anyway… I need to fix the figures I presented this morning. And THAT is not funny at all!

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While I was at the doctor’s office on Monday I decided to also have my eyes tested. It is not that I had any problems with my sight, but there was a sign in the window that read “Free Eye Test” and I thought what the heck. Yeah, I am a sucker for freebies. Turns out the “free” eye test was not so free after all.
End result… I have to wear corrective glasses. Apparently, my left eye is nearsighted, and weaker than my right eye. And all of this puts a tremendous (actual word used by the optometrist) strain on my right eye, as it tries to compensate for the weakness in my left eye. It also explains why I find it hard to look at objects at close range, as my left eye seemingly looses focus. When I asked the optometrist why I was not aware of this, I was told, “Your eyes have been lying to you all this time, and your brain has learnt to compensate for the flaw in your vision”. Huh?
“Dammit, are you screwing with me, woman?! I can’t be wearing glasses… I have spent years covering up my nerdiness and perfecting my Rebel Without a Cause look. I don’t need to wear glasses to accentuate my flaws.”
I enquired about contact lenses, and was told it would be of no use to me, as I only have a problem with seeing objects up close. There is no problem with seeing objects at a distance, and in fact, my eyes are perfect when it comes to seeing objects that are far away. As a result, I would constantly have to take the contacts out, and put them back in, depending on what I am doing… reading, driving, etc. In this instance, glasses is the perfect solution. I merely take them off when I don’t need them.
In my quest to find out why I am cursed with this visionary impairment, I have come to the only conclusion I could reach. My mother was right; masturbation can cause you to go blind. There is no other logical explanation for it. I did the ol’ five knuckle shuffle one too many times when I was younger, and now I am paying the price. And it is irreversible… there is no cure for it. No amount of sex later on in life, can make up for the damage you do to yourself during those adolescent years.
The moral… Ignorance = bliss and do not fall for the ‘Free Eye Test’ scam. It is a conspiracy to get all of us to wear glasses. And then the aliens will come… hehehe.
Lithium… where the hell is my lithium!?

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No post today. It seems I am suffering a bloody relapse… My chest is on fire, I have a temperature and it feels as if I’m wearing a boa constrictor for a scarf. I’m still at work, thought I could make it through the day, but have decided to call it quits and go see the doctor. But before I go…
Well… waddy’a know – I have been tagged (does this mean I’m famous?)… by Kyknoord no less! Now my first reaction is to ignore the tag and go about my merry way – I mean who fuckin’ cares about these things, right? But then I thought what the heck – play along (isn’t that what kids are supposed to do?) and give it your best shot. So, without further ado, here is my best of three list. (I guess this counts as a post, does’n it?).

Three screen names I’ve had: chitty, not_the_boy_next_door, the rampant penis.
Three things you like about yourself: tenacity, sense of humour, I can salsa (did I mention my great legs… hehe?).
Three things I don’t like about myself: hyperactive, compulsive, impatient.
Three parts of my heritage: man, predator, bastard.
Three things that scare me: Spiders, bra-burning feminists, and the Oui-ja board.
Three of your everyday essentials: (booze, broads and bullets – I wish!) Smiles, Kit Kat chunky, and Internet.
Three things you are wearing right now: Trousers, shoes, black formal sweater (I am at work, dammit!).
Three of my favorite songs: Oy, there’s so many… almost none of which comes to mind right now. Lemme see… ahh… At Last (Etta James), Quando Quando Quando (Michael Buble feat Nelly Furtado), and Lovefool (The Cardigans).
Things I want in a relationship: Sex, conversation, humour.
Two truths and a lie: I have climbed Table Mountain, I can speak German, and I cry like a baby during chick flicks.
Three things I can’t do without: credit card, books, and music.
Three places you want to go on vacation: Japan, Fiji, Maldives.
Three things you just can’t do: run a marathon, make milk come out my nose, touch the ground without bending my knees.
Three kids names: Earth, Wind, and Fire (?).
Things you want to do before you die: Bike through Nepal, Win a million, a lap dance from Paris Hilton.
Three celeb crushes: Jennifer Garner, Milla Jojovich and Gwen Stefani.
Three people you want to know these things about: It is the question, Michelle, Sandra

PS: Would have loved to tag Livewire, but I reckon since she’s done it before, she deserves a break.

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One of the elderly guys in my office is going on retirement today. So we are throwing him a little shindig this afternoon to speed him on his merry way and to let him know just how much we appreciate his service to the company. Yeah, we are a bunch a hypocrites pretending that we care when all we really want is the free booze, free food and an opportunity to feel up the secretary. I, off course, will be felt up by the psycho bimbo (see previous post)… so yeah, I can’t wait. And with that my testicles turn into ice-cubes and retract into my abdomen.
Now this guy has worked here practically all his life. He is old school and not the type who changes companies every 3 to 4 years. He values dedication and long service and is a company man in the true sense of the word.
I can’t imagine the office without him. “George”… lets call him, George… is a part of the furniture… the unofficial guru and anchorperson. He’s the guy we run to when we need a bit of help or information. He’s the kind of guy who, when you moved his cheese, would take it in his stride and quietly go on his merry way. Never a harsh word… no drama… hardly ever irritated.
The obligatory collection envelope is doing its rounds in the office. I never know how much money to put in. How do you measure a colleague’s worth in monetary terms? And what do you buy as a farewell gift for someone who has devoted his entire adult life to working for someone else. If had my way… we’d take him out to a strip bar… and let have a go at the girls. Hell, he’s been decent and well behaved for all this time and his age he can afford to say, “Screw the good moral bahaviour; I am having me some ME-time and I am going to behave scandalously while I’m at it”. But that is just me and somehow I cannot see old George living out my fantasy. I think George would still appreciate it if the boss gave him the old gold watch. Of course he will have to pretend to be moved by the gift we bestow on him later today, and somehow I cannot see George becoming emotional.
Not to be outdone by the collection envelope, the much dreaded farewell card is also going around and one struggles to decide between “Good luck on your retirement” and “It was great working with you”.
Of course I take comfort in the thought that the boss will have to deliver a truly “heartfelt” speech. Priceless! We have heard it a gazillion times before and true to his nature and desperate to live up to his reputation as ‘the guy who lost the plot’, we are sure to be in for a whopper of a speech. It is one of the few occasions though that he will have the full attention of the entire department and something I am sure that will make his weekend.
Good Luck George and I wish you all the best. Now be a good boy and give us the finger, will ya?!

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I am a hypocrite and selfish, and not proud of it!
There’s this colleague in my department, who insists on striking up conversations with me at the most inopportune times… no make that… all the time, and asks what can only be described as the m-o-s-t inane questions.
Now she is a nice person, sweet and innocent and kinda pretty in that girly sense, but someone should really give her the low-down on what a low-life I really am. Ok, ok… I am not a low-life, a bit of a bad boy perhaps, but I have done a few things in my time on earth that will make her skin crawl and reach for a shotgun. I am not the kinda person someone like her should be hanging around with, not at the office and definitely not outside of the office. We should not be seen together in the same universe. She is too goody-goody for any man, except perhaps the messenger boy, but he is only 18 years old and a late bloomer.
In the past I have always tried to be nice to her, but it takes so much out of me that I am seriously contemplating going into the boardroom and hanging myself. I do not suffer fools gladly, but somehow I cannot get myself to tell her off! She is tooo freaking… NICE.
She is always ready to help me out when I need assistance with extra work, a new project, a small favour here and there. In today’s dog-eat-dog corporate world, it is kinda nice having someone around that you can “lean” on. Well, it seems I am selling my soul for these favours and I hate every minute of it. Fuggit… now I seem like a manwhore… of the non-sexual-favour variety(?). Perhaps it would have been bearable if I had been attracted to her, but there is no spark… no attraction… whatsoever. She could be my grandmother for all I care.
My mate reckons she is coming on to me, but she has never steered the conversation in that direction. Now that I could deal with. Her questions aren’t even sexually suggestive in nature… they are just silly… annoying… a slow and painful death.

She would ask me crappy things like:
Do you love your girlfriend? (No, I don’t, that is why I’ve been with her for the past year. I am just fucking with her brains)
Can I talk to you for a minute? (Yeah sure, I have nothing better to do… not since you spoke to me over 2 minutes ago)
Oh, you were so mean to Hilton this morning. Why? (Like I fuckin’ care… Hilton is an outright prick and I am not going to stand by while he spreads his vermin around the office)
So, when are you planning on getting married? (I don’t know, all this free sex I’m getting is kinda awesome right now… so why ruin it with something like marriage)
How many girls have you slept with? (Hell I don’t know… there was this one time I thought I slept with the entire netball team… turns out it was only a dream)
Will you ever be able to get it on with a man? (Yeah sure why not, I am just a dumbfuck and I am not choosy about who I get it from… just as long as I get some. You know… the messenger guy’s looking kinda hot and sexy lately. Rooaarr!!!)

Someone push a drinking straw into my ear and suck my brains through it… I am dying here!

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I hung out with the gf and two of the mates last night. It was a cold night out in Jozie, so we decided to stay in and watch old action movies.
Well… actually no one was prepared to take on the responsibility of going down to the video/dvd store. So we had to make do with what I had in my collection… and we ate grilled cheese sandwiches, much to the chagrin of my visitors. Strange thing about grilled cheese sandwiches … after an hour or so they taste really bland … especially when you re-heat them.
It quickly became an impromptu noise and nostalgia fest of favourite movie scenes and dialogues.
Good advice kids… Never pass up an opportunity to hang out and have fun… even on a Monday night.
Anyway here is an excerpt from The Terminator, which happens to be one of my favourites. Cheesy dialogue (to go with the nasty sandwiches?), I know, but I still laugh at it every time! Yeah… it really does not take much to amuse me, does it?

John Connor: No, no, no, no. You gotta listen to the way people talk. You don’t say “affirmative,” or some shit like that. You say “no problemo.” And if someone comes on to you with an attitude you say “eat me.” And if you want to shine them on it’s “hasta la vista, baby.”
The Terminator: Hasta la vista, baby.
John Connor: Yeah! Or “later dickwad.” And if someone gets upset you say, “chill out”! Or you can do combinations.
The Terminator: Chill out, dickwad.
John Connor: Great! See, you’re getting it!
The Terminator: No problemo.

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