Leaving A Legacy

In typical fashion J always has to try and trump whatever I do, whether it be kicking my ass in English class, or coming down with some strange disease that makes my flu look like a sniffle. So last night after hearing about the strange side affliction, I started thinking that the only way she could never beat me was leaving a glorious legacy behind me. So I started thinking... First off, I need to start saving for my own tropical island, because who can do anything in the freezing wastelands of the Midlands. Once I make my first couple million I'm off!!

And I'm quite aware that that is not a legacy, but J seemed to assume that this talk made me sound like a crazed emperor. I kind of liked this idea, except unlike Nero I wouldn't be quite as silly as to set fire to and watch my own city burn. I'd find someone else's and then dance around the flames in a maniacal frenzy, and then return to my little island to watch it on CNN. By this stage J was in fits of laughter at my "weird delusions of grandeur", and I had to remind her that she was just jealous of my wonderful plan to trump her life legacy.

And in true style she pointed out that she would just surpass me in an epic death sequence after I'd been institutionalised. Could I not just have the upper hand once?? Because of this I had to re-think my whole plan, and then the most brilliant solution dawned on me... To have the strangest and most absurd death ever heard of! The plan? To be ravaged by the rabid sea turtle which would guard my island! J however, had to point out that sea turtles don't eat meat, but for once I'd thought ahead. Obviously that's what would make the whole thing so bizarre that my story would become urban legend! Imagine the headlines... Retired Loon Devoured by Pet Turtle.

Now that's a legacy!

School Safety

I AM ALIVE!!! Ok so the drunken golf carting never happened, so I can't be too melodramatic. Actually the nobble and I got over the whole drunken thing after realising that we do much better when attempting to clobber each other with tennis balls in the blistering heat. Somehow it just makes the whole world seem so much happier, especially when picturing faces on balls and compellingly smacking them at another person's throat. I honestly dread the day when either of us learn aim and direction.

But in between our rapid-fire rallies yesterday, we... Ok fine... I needed a breather. At this point I discovered that the lifeguards at the pool next to the courts were as high as kites!! I'm no expert here, but I would assume being high is as dangerous as being drunk near water (and we all know what happens when I drink near water). Anyway, I don't think I'd be too perturbed by it all if these lifeguards seemed like vaguely competent swimmers themselves (I am a fish, so I wouldn't worry about giving me responsibility like that and tequila), but they needed kicker boards to stay afloat!

And I saw them "training", it wasn't like they were using the boards as floatation devices for potential victims. They looked like half-drowned rat-dogs, legs flailing everywhere, violently splashing and thrusting toward the middle of the pool. I mean I know there's not enough money to hire high class Baywatch professionals, but surely the University could at least find lifeguards that have been swimming longer than the last two weeks, and sober for at least 3 days! I mean what if I suddenly got cramp while attempting a double tuck pike on the high dive?! I wouldn't be discovered for weeks!! Hmmmm... possible dumping grounds for undesirables??? Hmmmmm..... Heh heh heh....

The Adventure Begins. . .

This could be my final blog post. The nobble and our two best friends Pierre and Jose are embarking on a bikini clad golf cart extreme stunting session. How many sand traps can be clear before we over shoot into the Duzi? A hypothesis that needs further research to determine. . Watch this space.

Ps the twang has once again abandoned us for the safety of the pub. . But soon we'll convince her otherwise!

Nobbles and Twangs

I have to start this post off by saying that PRIME CIRCLE ROCKED!!!!!! But what rocked even more was the opportunity to share it with the nobble. True enough, he left me to fight a hippo independently and then some with the shim. Seriously, I expected more from the twang wielding ninja style of the nob, but what can I say… I think he just knew I could handle them on my own. Actually I think he was a little scared the hippo wouldn’t see him and just walk over him and I’d already proven that I could get through, past, and over anyone who got in my way. Hahahaha.. Finally the skills developed at Crowded House have paid off somewhere. The poor nob had a hard time keeping up, eventually just clutching my hoody like a newborn with its blankie!

However, I am happy/sad (not sure yet) to say that we behaved, and apart from the interesting concoction of vodka, tequila, passion fruit and lemonade that we somehow ended up with.. cough cough.. there was no overindulgent drinking or illicit activity.. well except having to pull the nob off a pole that he mistook for a girl. Ok fine! I didn’t have to pull him off, he realised on his own when it wouldn’t give him its number. But by this stage Prime Circle were ready to play, and our inner bunnies took over, bouncing and shrieking. Well mine did in any case, the nobble just stared and laughed at me. This wasn’t proper behaviour for someone my age he told me, that and we need to have a serious discussion regarding my taste in men. Not my fault he’s turned into a Tellytubby – karmic justice if you ask me.

However the verdict is in – nobbles are compulsory at concerts, next time though we have to bring the twang along. The two of them can fight the hippos away from the bar together – and then I won’t have battle bruises the next morning, just a good old fashioned hangover!

I'm Now Judging!

I'm sorry, but I've now just had enough of lazy people! If this post offends you, then good! You deserve to be offended, because I know too many people who work their asses off each day who are not rewarded, while lazy gits like you park off! I was talking to Cait this morning, and she agreed - people who bitch about being over-weight, do nothing about it, assume it's God's cosmic joke on them, and then sit down with a Coke and pie in front of them while they complain, grind me to a point where I want to beat them with that can!

And now I've just read the most ridiculous piece in the Sunday Times about a family in the UK who are proud of being obese, and being lazy! They refuse to work because they are so overweight, and believe the government should pay them more in disability every month because of it. Um.... Right.... Why the hell don't we all just move there, claim disability, and eat chocolate all day? See how the great British empire and economy looks then!

But here's my favourite part: They won't exercise because they just don't have the time - I'm sorry, what?? You don't work, why on earth do you not have time to exercise? Oh wait, it's because they claim they are too busy watching TV!! Seriously?!? You have got to be kidding me?! They admit that watching TV tires them out so much, that they have to nap in the afternoons. Seriously?! And you think you deserve to be given money by the government, by people who work their butts off to pay taxes, so you can do that?? No wonder they want to introduce a sin tax on chocolate, with people like this around!

This is why we have reached a global recession. People have become too damn lazy to earn their keep, and expect everyone else to fix their problems. You can't keep blaming everyone else for your problems, cause trust me, I know people who deal with a hell of a lot more every day, and they are not given any sort of special treatment (even though they deserve it far more).

Some would say people like this should be put down, I have a better solution. Stop paying for them to do nothing! Make use of them. Ship them to Chinese sweat shops! Hell.. Ship them to my office! Put the Coke down, start paying for yourself, and learn some bloody responsiblity!! You do not deserve anything, except judgement and condemnation from society, not disability cheques!

Shew! Ok.. Rant done... I needed that :)

Beneath My Skin

Why does it feel like night today?
Something in here's not right today
Why am I so uptight today?
Paranoia's all I got left
I don't know what stressed me first
Or how the pressure was fed
but I know just what it feels like
To have a voice in the back of my head it’s like a face that I hold inside
face that awakes when I close my eyes
face that watches every time I lie
face that laughs every time I fall
(and watches everything)
So I know that when it's time to sink or swim
That the face inside is hearing me - right underneath my skin
It's like I'm paranoid lookin' over my back
It's like a whirlwind inside of my head
It's like I can't stop what I'm hearing within
It's like the face inside is right beneath my skin

Here we go again with the pain I feel that isn’t real. But in my mind
when I find myself in places with names but not faces
my memory races at speeds
hundred degrees
my soul it bleeds
devil must've planted the seed
now it feels like my backs against the wall, I'm takin the fall
whenever I call nobody's responding at all
but I don’t know who I can trust, they screaming my name
I need somebody to help me out of the flame

All I'm trying to do is just master me
all I wanna do is smoke a blasta beat
but something keeps talking to me consciously, responsibly
it keeps haunting me

From dusk til dawn everyday has something for ya
that voice inside of ya head has got you projecting paranoia.
Cold sweat, shining on your face exposing your purpose
and if I, ripped off your skin I'd probably find a, 'nother person
There’s nothing thing worse than trying to bring yourself up back from the dead
so I advise you listen to that voice in the back of you head

It's like I'm paranoid lookin' over my back
It's like a whirlwind inside of my head
It's like I can't stop what I'm hearing within
It's like the face inside is right beneath my skin
It's like I'm paranoid lookin' over my back
It's like a whirlwind inside of my head
It's like I can't stop what I'm hearing within
It's like the face inside is right beneath my skin

The sun goes down
I feel the light betray me
the sun goes down

its like I'm paranoid
I feel the light betray me
the sun

It's like I'm paranoid lookin' over my back
It's like a whirlwind inside of my head
It's like I can't stop what I'm hearing within
It's like the face inside is right beneath

It's like I'm paranoid lookin' over my back
It's like a whirlwind inside of my head
It's like I can't stop what I'm hearing within
It's like the face inside is right beneath my skin

Viva Comrade Malema!

I was honestly saddened when Obama was sworn in, because it was then I realised that no longer would we have baby Bush saying the most amazingly stupid things to brighten our days. Well, that’s what I thought until sweet, little, comrade Julius barged onto the scene. True, he made not have the international appeal of the babe, but his foot-in-mouth antics are still fun and at times very educational.

Like his latest little quip regarding JZ’s rape acquittal, in which he stated that: “When a woman didn’t enjoy it, she leaves early in the morning. Those who had a nice time will wait until the sun comes out, request breakfast and ask for taxi money.” To be fair, at first this made me want to punch his head in, but after a few glasses and deep thought, I thought: “Holy crap!! This guy is actually quite forward thinking. The woman gets to request breakfast?!”

Obviously I’ve been doing things all wrong all these years. Yes, I think I like the way this man thinks. He knows his place - not only does he acknowledge that it should be the man slaving away in the kitchen, but that it should be done at dawn, awaiting her as she wakes up.

Ok, the asking for taxi money thing is a little prostitutey, but in fairness, if a man wants to fork over cash let him do it – you’ll let him buy you clothes for goodness sake, why not give you taxi money (just make sure it’s a stretch taxi with tinted windows and a champagne fountain).

The only thing I’m going to have to disagree with you on, little one, is the assumption that woman who didn’t enjoy it leave before sunrise. Usually you only realise that you haven’t enjoyed it when there’s enough sunlight to see what you went home with the night before. Chances are the sun will come up, she’ll have that oh my God, what did I do moment, and will run. But I’m sure that has never happened to our esteemed comrade, whose culinary skills are after all, legendary in the press.