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Archive for July, 2005

“Sheer imposture, bloated by its own importance, and of unfathomable tedium” is how one pundit decribed this work by the Belgian stage director Jan Fabre at the annual theater festival in Avignon, France.
I myself am at a loss for words and the only things that springs to mind is WTF, and strangely enough, the image of a can of 3-in-one oil.

Source: NY Times, 29 July 2005
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  1. Positive proof that God despise motorists. When a bird kaks on your car’s windsreen, you need a bucket of hot water, soap and a scourer to clean it off! What the hell is in bird-crap!? No amount of rain and windscreen fluid can wash it away.
  2. If you are going to light up a cigarette, why would you ask me if I mind and then proceeded to light up before I had time to answer you?
  3. On death row… why would they take so much care before administering the lethal injection? Are they scared they will pass on a lethal last-minute infection?
  4. For all the multi-skilling abilities a woman processes, why would she reverse into another car for no apparent reason? Just start up the car and reverse into the car parked 20 meters behind you.
  5. If good things come to those who wait, why hasn’t anyone become rich by sitting on their asses and doing nothing all day?
  6. If vitamins are good for you, why do vegetables taste so bad? Is it God’s attempt at a little irony?
  7. When you paint a picture of somebody naked, it is considered art. Why is it porn when you take a photograph of someone when they’re naked?
  8. If God wanted us to be thin, breathing would burn more calories.
  9. The true definition of starving is craving for pizza, fried chicken, fried chips and a beer at 3 AM on a Saturday morning.
  10. A forklift picking up a crate of forks would be an example of a piece of machinery doing exactly what it was intended to do.
  11. Some people claim that it will always rain after they had washed their cars. If all 6,456,646,398 people on earth (making allowance for those who don’t own cars) were to wash their cars on consecutive days, would the sun become redundant?
  12. You know how they say that music sounds better when you are drinking. In that case, would it make sense to sell Michael Bolton CD’s with a bottle of Jack Daniels?
  13. Why is it when a guy says to you, “I don’t want to sound gay or anything”, they very next thing they is so gay that it defeats the purpose of him saying so in the first place?
  14. Nice eyes and a great smile on a guy is the same as big tits and a nice ass on a girl. Why then is the one a compliment and the other not?
  15. Why is it when you ask someone’s opinion on a proposal you’ve written, all they do is fix up the spelling and grammatical errors. I guess the content paled in comparison to the enormity of the errors.
  16. People always say, “I probably shouldn’t be saying this” and then go ahead and say it in any case. Whould it be bad manners to say, “You shouldn’t” and then walk away from them?
  17. You may never forget how to ride a bike, but try rollerblading a year after the last time you did it.
  18. Good Advice: Never eat buffalo wings when you had too much to drink. You’ll only end up with skid marks on your face.
  19. Why would someone cc’s you on an e-mail and yet a few days later enquire whether you’ve completed the job since the person they sent it to has not come back to them? Does cc have a hidden meaning I don’t know about?
  20. When someone takes something from your desk, why do they wait until you start asking around to tell you that they have it?
  21. In an action movie why does the hero always find time to make out/have sex with the girl at the precise moment when their lives are most in danger?

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1st day in my new role. Having my entire project portfolio taken away from me and working on special projects has its upside. It has a downside too, as I have come to discover today.
One of the definite perks is that you have no more worries, no deadlines, no meetings to attend and there is absolutely no reason for you to kiss anyone’s ass. You also realise that you spent way too much time worrying about business issues that actually does very little for you personally as well as professionally. Next perk… no more work stress. Yep, I am lank chilled and there is little that can upset me.
Another seemingly good perk is the free time you have in which to talk to other people. The downside is people think they can walk into your office whenever they want to. I am suddenly the most popular guy in the freaking building. I may as well put a sign on my office door that says;

Psychiatrist in. Feel free to sit your crummy ass down and tell me all about it.

I tell you, I did not know that there are as many people working here as I got to meet today. Everybody wants to know why I am leaving, when I am leaving, where I am going to and who is going to take my place. If I had any sense at all, I would have sent out an e-mail to the entire company clearly stating my reasons for leaving. Apparently this is vital information that every person needs to know. My particular ‘brand’ of resignation is seemingly the biggest event since sliced bread and my life is as much theirs as it is mine.
Then there are those who feel that they need to give me advice on what to do next. And in as much as I appreciate the gesture, I really do not need anyone to tell me what I should and should not do. No one seems to remember that I will be here until the end of the year and that perhaps I may have plans of my own.
With being stripped of the previously held office title, I suddenly became one of the guys. I am as low down as the cleaning lady and as high up as the MD. It felt good at first; I had the freedom to be myself and meet people on the same level. Besides, I am not a snob and I can mix equally well with all people. Even when what they say things to me that make no sense and I am left wondering what mental institution they had escaped from.
However, by lunch time, I had had enough of the me-so-friendly and I-am-your-buddy parade. People who until today would never even look in my direction are now on a first name basis with me. When I was a fully fledged manager, I was Mr. So-and-so…. now I am just K(*chitty*). Still, it is not necessarily a bad thing as long as it does not take away from who and what I am.
Colleagues whom I have offended and who have offended me, those who hated my guts and whose guts I hated all of a sudden became my mates. My resignation had wiped the slate clean. How odd is that? Hell, even the gay guy who felt me up when I got drunk at the office Christmas party seems to think all is forgiven.
To be quite honest I hate it. I hate what I have become in less than 24 hours. I hate being the agony aunt and I hate being the dumping ground for everyone’s problems, their gripes, insecurities and malicious gossip. I hate that something I agonised over for so long has been diminished to this. I hate that I am the poster boy for the pissed-off and disgruntled. I don’t want to be any of these things! There is just so much anyone person can take.
So starting tomorrow I am going to put a sign on my door that says,

Disgruntled asshole and office maniac in residence. Enter at own risk.
Failing that, I will yell, “F*ck off “ whenever someone enters that I do not know or do not like.
Be carefull what you wish for… I wish somebody had reminded me of this when I walked into the boss’s office yesterday morning. Of course I DO NOT want my job back. The hype will wear off soon and this is a MINOR setback to my plans. Admittedly, December 2005 seems a looong way off right now and a 30-day notice period seems like a stroke of pure genius. Hehehe…
Now… where the fuck is the hangman’s noose when you need it?!

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I haven’t been blogging since last Thursday. I wish I can say I had been busy, but that would not be entirely true. I have had a lot on my mind and I hope that what I am about to do will put an end to the uncertainty and turmoil.
Change is good right? At least that is what I’ve been told. It is easy to make change. Change happens all the time. Even if you sit still and do nothing, the world around you is in constant motion.
It is however difficult to make good change. Change that makes one’s life better. Change that endures. Change that persists. I believe that in order to make a good change one firstly needs to be in control of that change.
I have come to the decision that I need to leave the company I am working for and find myself another job. It is a realization that has been with me for a while now. After having been here for only one year, I can say with certainty that I am not happy with where I am. I feel caged in. The job is no longer a challenge and I know that I am capable of doing so much more than what I am currently doing. I constantly feel like I do not belong, as if I am sitting on the sidelines and watching what happens in the office from a distance.
The people I work with are great… wacky and weird, but great nonetheless. I love the energy and the passion they have for their jobs and since I do not feel the same way about mine it is unfair on them to go on with the make belief.
So today I am going to walk into my boss’s office and tell him that I intend leaving the company at the end of this year. As I have nothing definite lined up, I need the time until then to complete my current project load, find a new job and get my plans in order. Telling him what my intentions are may not be the wise thing to do, but I hate sneaking around and pretending that all is good when in fact it is not. I trust that he will be open-minded and see that my intentions are good because if he isn’t, I may be out of a job sooner than I had anticipated.
The six months hand-over/notice period I am proposing may not fit in with the company’s plans. Wish me luck! I may get more than what I bargained for. Be that as it may… there is no looking back and I am moving forward from here.

Update (11:54 AM): It went as well as can be expected. No boss is happy when one of his managers resigns and he felt that the company had failed me in some aspects. Now how nice is that… huh?! I guess it is easier to accept that someone is leaving for another job with better prospects, more money, etc than when they leave because they feel they have to.
There was the obligatory, “Is there anything we do or change to make you stay”, but we both knew that the company was not going to live up to my expectations and needs.
Good news is that he is ok with me staying on. It has to be cleared at board level, but he doesn’t foresee any major hiccups. Downside(?) is I get to interview, select and appoint my own successor.
I will hand over my current project load to one of the other guys on my level. I will be re-assigned to work on special projects. Haha… special projects my ass! I almost burst out laughing when he said that. Anyone with half a brain cell knows that assigning someone to special projects is just a way of keeping them away from the daily running of the business and ensures that they are not involved in any strategic/key business issues or projects. I’m not complaining. It suits me fine for now… it will give me more time to find that perfect job. I may even have more time to blog.
All in all, I think it went rather well for me. The office grapevine is already abuzz with the news of my resignation. The next few months at the office is going to be a whole lotta fun.
6 months is more than enough time to achieve immortality and ensure that they will talk about me for years to come. Any good ideas? .

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This is a rant. I haven’t had one of these in a while now. My apologies in advance to any parents or would-be parents, but some things should not be left unsaid.
I went to Pick ‘n Pay (Pick ‘n Pay is our equivalent to Wal-Mart) yesterday to buy some much needed food items. The cupboards are looking bare and with the rugby this weekend, I am sure to get a lot of visitors. Hopefully we’ll kick some Aussie ass! Go Bokke!!
Since I was there, I decided to cruise down the toy aisle. And NO, I am not buying toys for myself. In any case, they don’t keep the ones I’d like to have… hehehe. My sister’s youngest son has a birthday a few weeks from no, and I thought I’d get him something nice.
I digress. As I turn into the toy aisle, there a women and her son about halfway down the aisle. It is obvious that the boy wants something, and the mother refuses to buy it for him. I guess it is her prerogative and really none my business. Parents know what’s best for their kids… or so I would hope.
But here’s the twist. The little brat throws himself on the floor, and lets loose with I can only describe as the highest pitched wail I have heard in my entire adult life. Mariah Carey… eat your bloody heart out! You have n-o-t-h-i-n-g on this kid… n-o-t-h-i-n-g! It is a heart stopper and it cuts through every fibre in my body. Every single person in that entire hyper stopped dead in their tracks.
Next, he throws himself on the floor and starts kicking and stomping like there’s no tomorrow. He’s like a friggin’ baby Godzilla. Any moment now I expect the roof to come crashing down or that he will trash all the toys on the shelves.
Now I don’t mind children crying. Heaven knows I was anything but an exemplary kid growing up, but to throw a tantrum of this magnitude in a public place, annoys the living shit out of me. No child has the right to expect to be spoilt, and to go ballistic when he doesn’t get what he wants. And no parent should allow their kids to behave like this in public.
Mommy dearest, in the meantime, cannot be bothered to pay attention to the would-be serial toy killer. She looks at him with tired eyes and says in a monotone,
“Mark, stop it, I don’t care what you want. I am not buying it” (I’m thinking: Whoo-fucking-pee! Is that the best you’ve got woman? Now lets try it with a little more authority.)
The child wails even louder. With all the kicking and stomping, he spins around in a little mini circle. It would be hilarious, if I wasn’t so stumped by what’s happening.
“Stop it, Mark. I’ve already told you. I don’t care… you are not getting that toy” (Come on, mommy, gimme more! At this point in time I would settle for fire coming out of your mouth.)
The child’s wailing pitches once again (definately a rock star in the making). I swear the Barbie dolls went ashen in their little boxes.
“But I WANT IT and YOU are going to BUY it for ME!
“Stop it, I don’t care” (monotone). (Is that your final answer. May suggest you phone a friend… in child welfare?) She acts like he’s done nothing wrong.
The brat screams, “But I want it. I want it now! MOMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!” Snot and tears everywhere.
This woman’s idea of parenting is fundamentally wrong. In fact she is a terrible parent and I hate her! She has absolutely NO CONTROL over her child. She should not be allowed to have children… ever. The child has no respect for her or any form of authority. He will undoubtedly grow up to be a menace to society. I can see time spent in Juvie Hall , and lots of it. And the mother does not give a shit.
I know hitting a child is prolly the biggest social gaffe a parent can commit these days. They are taught to reason, outwit and to engage in dialogue. In this case however, my advice would simply be,

SCREW ALL THAT! SMACK THE FUCKING KID!
No really, I mean it. Some ppl may want to crucify me for saying this, but I would smack (within reason of course) the fucking kid. That is all one can do in this case. This child is out of control. The parent is the queen of Planet Moron. She has already failed the child in every aspect of parenting. Smacking would a liberating experience for him. It is obvious that nothing else seems to have worked. It may even shut him up or encourage him to turn down the amplifier.
I left… I needed to be anywhere else but in that aisle with the child and his mother. I plan on having a few of my own one day. It’s at times like these I become incredibly religious.
God, please strike me down and make me infertile if there is the slightest possibility that I may turn out to be half as bad a parent as this woman is?

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In my job I get to meet all sorts of people, but none are stranger than some of the people I work with on a daily basis. I would never hang out with the majority of them outside of work, but at the office you have no choice but to speak to them… occasionally.
Here’s a conversation I had with one of the girls in the tea room this morning. I dunno where she was heading with this, but I wasn’t going to hang around long enough to find out.

SHE: At what point does pursuing a guy you adore turn into stalking?
ME (laughing): Uh… when you are caught.
SHE: Does that mean…?
ME: Hey… Tracy (not real name)… I’m pulling your leg. I don’t really want to know what you are up to. Here’s a hint though – A restraining order can really ruin the chances of a relationship. When that happens, you pretty much know he is not interested and prolly never will be. Well, that and if he runs away yelling, “Stalker!” at the top of his lungs every time he sees you.
SHE (laughing): Surely you don’t think that I’m… uh…
ME: You? Of course not! I don’t know what to think… I’ve heard thinking is highly overrated.

Yep, not the smoothest of exits on my part. (And suddenly, The Office Bimbo seems relatively tame in comparison.)

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Claws are out

It is lunchtime and we are sitting in the canteen talking about this and that, when in walks the big boss’s secretary. Now this girl has got it going on! (my apologies ladies). She is young and beautiful, dressed to kill and oh-so-sexy. She the kind woman who walks into room and music starts to play in your head. There’s not a guy in the room, moi included, whose blood circulation does not go into full reverse and leaves him as lightheaded as a helium-filled balloon at a county fair.
One of the girls sitting at the table with us, comments sarcastically, “The lengths some women would go to draw the attention of men.” Screech… at this point the music stops and life returns back to normal.
Now I disagree respectfully with my female colleague on this subject. I do not have a compelling need to go to bat on male/female issues, but there is no way in hell you can convince me that the girl went to all this trouble just to get the men at the office interested. If that is what it is all about, all she really needed to do is to dress up as a hooker.
Sure she is flattered by the looks of appreciation and attention she’s getting, but if women feel the need to blame anyone for the lengths they go to to look beautful, they should look no further than their precious sistas! Yes, Ma’am… your girlfriends (and I use the term loosely) are to blame.
Now before you say, WTF is he smoking… let me elaborate! (This is where poor old chitty goes out on a limb… hehe)
An ex-gf on mine always said; “Looking good and getting a compliment from a man is great, but adoration and looks of envy from other women… priceless”.
Who is more critical of you and more likely to pass comments on how you look/what you wear and gossip behind your back? The husband and the bf or the girlfriend and the other women you know?
The fashion standards of what to wear, which colours are in, what to nip, tuck and enhance etc. are all set by women, the so-called fashionistas, the editors of the fashion magazines and the tabloids. It is all part of the cycle on which the fashion and beauty industry runs. Women are encouraged by other women, no less, to embrace cosmetic and fashion advice and make it their own. Pretty soon it becomes the “in” thing to do and once it reaches the all important critical mass, it goes out of control… every body has to have it. But like all cosmetic/fashion phenomena, it finally comes to an end. Let’s face it, when every body does it or has it, it becomes the norm. And then the next wave starts…
The essential ingredient that fuels this phenomenon of beauty and fashion is c-o-m-p-e-t-i-t-i-o-n. And what better form of competition, than competition amongst women. Without the female-on-female competition, the multi-billion dollar fashion and beauty industry will grind to a complete halt. And the prize? The prize is NOT just getting the man… nope it is the envy and admiration of every other women you come in contact with. Ok, getting the man has its many rewards too, and I for one would like to believe that.
In the meantime, the dumb-ass males of the species watch the show with Neanderthal-like interest. Sure we benefit from all the competition, but being the simple creatures that we are, we don’t ask questions. What do we know about fashion anyway? Men don’t care what women wear or whether it makes their bums look big, all we want to do is get women OUT of their clothes. And women know that! But since we are told by women to find certain things sexy, that is exactly what we will do. God forbid that we don’t…
Having reached the point where a fad becomes the norm, women turn the tables on men and make us the scapegoats for what they go through to look beautiful. They can’t go blaming themselves, can they now? “I am only doing this to be more desirable and more beautiful to you!” Suddenly it is men who expect women to be perfect, to be thin… to look like supermodels… bah-de-blah. The pain and suffering they go through is all for our benefit and the very “girlfriends” who started the ball rolling in the first place are the ones they run to for advice and guidance
So ask yourself again why women do what they do. Is it really to impress men or is it because of competition and to impress other women?
As for the girl who made the comment in the canteen; I can bet you she’s out shopping this weekend to buy something that will make the secretary look like a Sunday school teacher.
Let the games begin!

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