Archive for July, 2006


whisperin Mr. Video (video & dvd rental franchise)

Guy: How about this one? (holds up a DVD cover and looks at it)
Girl: Let me see… (takes the cover fro him). Aaah. I know about this one. My sister rented it a few weeks ago.
Guy: And… what did she have to say about it? Is it any good?
Girl: Not a good movie. She said the plot is predictable & tired; the characters are shallow and the dialogue wooden.
Guy: Ah… ok. (takes the cover from her and puts it back on the shelf)
Girl (looking at another DVD): The special effects and action scenes are brilliant and the love scenes are very graphic.
Guy: Cool… I think we should take it. (Grabs the DVD and follows her into the next aisle)

Got to hand it to him. He knows what it takes to make a good movie. Pity there was only one copy left… hehe.


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Criticism is a bitch, innit? I can’t think of anything worse, except death and taxes. It hurts even more so when it comes from someone you respect and when you realise that they may be correct in what they say.
It is not that I do not appreciate good advice, but sometimes people tell you things you do not want to hear. It is human nature I guess.
If there is perhaps one thing I hate personally more than being criticized, then it is being patronised. When you are spoken down to. When someone says something to you and says it in such a way that you are made to feel like an idiot.
Like when the guy at the night club tells you in a condescending tone that you cannot enter simply because your jeans not comply with the dress code. How would you have known that?
It is however when someone patronises you at the office that it hurts most. Like the dressing down I was given today. And it is especially painful when it is delivered to you by a seemingly out of control emotionally charged senior manager, whom you respect.
Darn. And I thought human interaction these days was all about being politically correct, constitutionally right and all that crap. Or perhaps he was just exercising his right to freedom of expression.
It was a classic case of my stick (dick?) is bigger than yours and don’t you forget it!
To say that I was pissed off at the manner in which the criticism(?) was leveled at me would be the understatement of 2006. Somewhere in there, in spite of the 1,001 personal references, I knew he was trying to make a point, but for the hell of me I just could not see it. I was too busy trying to make sense of all the hand gestures he was making at the time. He looked like a frikkin pointsman at a very busy traffic intersection! I guess he enjoyed his little tirade so much that he flagrantly disregarded the facts pertaining to the matter.
The bemused expression on my face must not have met with his approval, because he ended off with a “don’t you dare look at me like that, young man!” [Dad, how on earth did you get in here?]
When I finally had the opportunity to voice my humble opinion, it just did not seem worth it to defend myself. He was not in the mood to listen and I was far too bloody angry to get my thoughts in order. Besides, I did not want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me flustered. I elected to make appointment to speak with him when he is less emotional.
Having said that, the onus is still on me to sieve through the rubbish and heed the “advice”. It pays to check your reflection in that mirror, boet! Step up to the challenge and accept what is being dished up like a mature man. Ah. Yeah. Whatever.
All in a day’s work, I guess. It is going to be a helluvah long week ahead.

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The gf and I are having dinner with her parents tomorrow night. Pffft. Dinner with her parents is like walking into the lion’s den covered in the blood of a freshly slaughtered animal. I exaggerate of course, but these encounters can be pretty harrowing.
It is not that I cannot stand the prospective in-laws. They are good people I am sure. It just feels as if I am on trial when I am with them and there is a distinct expectation that I need to prove myself every time we meet… especially to the father.
[S]’s father is old school, and I say this in the nicest possible way… a pit-bull from days gone by. He’s a self-made man as he likes to put it. He runs his own business and got to where he is today through hard work, long hours and sheer perseverance.
I am not afraid of him, but he does make me somewhat uneasy. He grew up in a time where a man’s worth and success was measured by how well he provided for his family and where the husband was the supreme god.
They say, “Keep your son off the pipe and your daughter off the pole”. His parenting style is a lot more complex than that. And it starts with a firm belief that he always knows better… which is fine, I guess, for when the kids are small and still living with you.
I am a constant source of bewilderment to him. I know he’s actually faking it, so I play along. And even if he isn’t, I would not blame him… there are times when I confuse myself.
He has very little understanding of what my profession entails, preferring to see marketers as “blood suckers” and intrinsic spinners of tall tales. (I actually agree with him on this) And because I know this, I use it to my advantage whenever the opportunity arises. Rub it in, so to speak. Hey… if you can’t win ‘em over, you may as well have fun with them. And I do like to have fun!
The most difficult part of our “relationship” is that he still sees [S] as his little girl. He is very protective of her and therefore too damn close to us for my liking.
In some ways he sees me as the challenger, and although I given him any reason to believe that I do not have her best interests at heart, he would not hesitate to take me on if he believes I am not doing right by her. He’d also prefer it if I was more conventional and less of a nutcase… yeah right.
I am known for being head-strong and a cocky. He and I have had fiery debates (all in good spirit) in the past over a number of things, such as my job, the state of the nation (is it ever good?); sport and how Hollywood and modern technology have turned men into wimps. He has some pretty nifty ideas about what real manhood entails. Keeping a straight face in the midst of such unwavering comical conviction takes a lot doing. Believe me!
The trump card is that his daughter chose me and it really does not matter what he or anyone else thinks. This has lead me to believe that I am either just like her father or his polar opposite. For obvious reasons, I am strongly leaning towards the latter. God forbid I am him 20 years on.
The strategy for tomorrow night is to focus on the rugby. With the Boks’ dismal performance last week and the upcoming game against the All Blacks, I can’t go wrong.
Now that is how one shifts the focus and does marketing for personal gain! That qualification is coming in handy after all.

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is when you catch a glimpse of the driver of the vehicle who forced you to move over to the middle lane, as she drives past you at a speed in excess of 140km/h while talking on her cell phone and realize that she is… YOUR MOTHER!
Now there is something you do not want to experience every day. I wonder if her husband is aware of what she gets up to in her spare time? Probably not… he he.

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pedestrian signWalking comes as easy as breathing… well… perhaps not as easy, because it talks a while before you are ready to take those first steps. But you get my point… walking is not a difficult exercise. I’ve been doing it for a while now, and I do not have any trouble with it at all.
When we drive our cars on the highways or along suburban streets, there are certain rules of the road which have to be obeyed. Why not observe the same with walking?
Yesterday, I was walking in the mall minding my own business. I made sure that I do not step on people’s toes and nor did I make any sudden hand-movements, so as not spook my fellow mall rats. I kept a safe distance all around, going with the natural flow and pace of the pedestrian traffic, when suddenly I walked into some woman’s bony ass! All I can say is that it gave new meaning to the term… bootylicious.
This woman had decided that it was ok for her stop dead in her tracks and cease all forward movement, because of something she saw in a shop window. There was no indication that she was slowing down and no walking towards the shop window where she could drool over the object of her desire at leisure. Nope, she decided she could do that right from where she was standing. From the middle of the friggin passage-way! Perhaps she possessed super-human eyesight? (You aren’t the only one, Mr Superman!)
Since I was unable to read her thoughts (which normally I am very good at) and because I assumed that the aim of walking was that we would all move forward in a somewhat orderly manner, I kept going. By the time I realised she had stopped, it was too late. I walked right into her. In fact, the only way I could avoid her was if I could pull off a tsukahara with a double twist.
The collision knocked the wind right out of me and was followed by a sharp pain. Ouch!
I tried to apologise (why?), but she would have none of it. A surly, “Can’t you look where you are going”, was all I got out of her. Thank you very much! I wanted to ask her if she could be wary of where she “parks” her bony ass, but I feared it may turn into a bitch fest. So I flashed her my most brilliant (albeit painful) smile and kept on walking.
And yes, M’am, that was my groin you felt when I walked into you. I fear I may never father any off-spring, but that is none of your concern. I hope that whatever you saw in that window brings you hours of immense carnal pleasure!

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