Julius and Jansen have a chat

30 10 09

That Julius is being sneaky again. His support of University of the Free State (UFS) rector, Jonathan Jansen’s actions regarding the Reitz Four, has left whites and blacks alike wondering what the hell the ANC Youth League leader is up to.

Much of the government and civil society have criticised Jansen for allowing the punks to return to campus, while still facing crimen injuria charges for making black staff at an UFS hostel eat meat that allegedly had been urinated on.

But now, in a surprising move, Julius Malema has announced that he fully supports Jansen remaining in his position as rector, despite calls for Jansen to step down.

"Jansen is one of our own," Julius told students at UFS, "We cannot feed Jansen to the enemy."

Just who this enemy is, is unclear. After all, Julius’s very own party, just days before, called for racists, including Jansen, apparently (although the party will dispute that this is what was meant by the statement), to be “shot and killed”.

That aside, Julius has been clever. Through this clear show of support for Jansen, Julius has confused certain contingents of outraged stupid whites who may not be sure where to place him on the ‘racist/nonracist’ and ‘stooped/klevah’ continuums, while granting outraged stupid blacks the smug pseudo-benevolence of being better than that racist Jansen.

I look forward to seeing who’s next on Julius’s list.


Why I’m glad I don’t have to date 21-year olds

28 10 09

Following my neighbour’s party last Thursday night, I heard a couple of the young guys who live there (I think there are three but I might be mistaken – it may only be the two of them) having a chat on their balcony. Actually, that statement is not entirely correct: what I heard really amounted to one of them lecturing the other on the topic of the former’s amazing prowess as a fighter.

The conversation, as I heard it, proceeded as follows:

Dickhead 1: Ja hey, this oke was like 35 and I FUCKED HIM UP. I fucking punched him so hard the oke was K.O’d. Like, I was 19 years old and he was fucking 35, and I just FUCKED HIM UPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!

Dickhead 2: *mumble mumble mumble*

Dickhead 1: I’m not bragging or anything but I could fucking take down Max. He’d give me a smack but I would FUCKING FUCK him up. I’ve been in my fair share of fights in my life and I know what I’m doing. He’d be K.O’d, I would fuck him up.

Dickhead 2: * mumble mumble mumble*

Dickhead 1: *stands up* …Like this and then like this….

*scuffle scuffle, smack*

Dickhead 1: Shit, sorry bru, I didn’t meant to hit you. Ja, but like that. I fucking smacked him so hard I FUCKED HIM UP.

After that I stuck my head in the toilet and flushed repeatedly until I no longer heard this arrogant, linguistically stunted young moron forcing his flatmate to listen to his tales of fighting brilliance.

I don’t remember young guys being this inane when I was younger, and I feel so sorry for the women who will end up on date with him. Then again, if the women who attended his party last week are anything to judge by, the date would consist of Dickhead 1 stroking his biceps lovingly while the date would be looking around the room, gossiping about allegedly less attractive counterparts who attended whatever third-rate community college-type institution they did.

Mature womanly bowels

28 10 09

Ok, so even I can recognise that there’s a bit of a scatological obsession unfolding on this blog, thus I promise this will be the last thought on the matter for a while, promise.

Yesterday, an article on gastroenterological problems crossed my desk. In it, the author proclaimed that while seven-year-old boys delighted in farting, girls were consistently embarrassed by it, often blaming the dog for the offending odours, but that farting became a sign of respect or acknowledgement of maturity in older women.

Farting. Maturity in women. Welcomed.

Those three words just don’t go together in my mind, and it sounds like bollocks to me. I’ve never yet met an old lady whose flatulence is a source of pride to her, but perhaps I know the wrong old women.

Personally, I’ll continue to blame whatever pet is on hand, no matter how ‘mature’ I become.

Can’t think of a headline

26 10 09

As you’ve all been waiting with antici…pation, I feel I should tell you that I have repaired the flusher handle of my toilet, successfully. After carrying around the faulty part in a plastic bag in my hand bag for a few days, I meandered into a hardware store yesterday and picked up one that works.I have no way to prove to you that this was a successful DIY job, so I’ll just have to let you trust that I DID IT, OK??!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Maggot, Violet Wiemaraner and The Ex-Capetonian met at the Radisson Blu in Sandton on Saturday for a cocktail or two. A gorgeous new hotel made infinitely classier by the presence of four guffawing women yelling obscene things at one another.

Ok, unfortunately for me (perhaps fortunately for you) I have nothing more to say.
Au revoir.

Shit happens

25 10 09

Peach St. Bernard’s mother is indeed an amusing woman. She is a supremely smart and talented individual, and her work is important and valuable in South Africa’s education sector. She is a prominent person at a prominent institution, and her work requires amazing dedication, strategy skills and flexibility.

That’s why when the Peach pooch alerted me late on Friday afternoon that a sewerage pipe had burst in an area of her mother’s workplace, and that her mother had photographed the human turds, now settled greasily on the floor, and emailed the photo to her family, I knew I would be posting it on my blog.

The reason being that for all the important work this woman does and the accomplishments she has under her belt, she can still see the funny side of shit happening.

This really is a remarkable photo.

Hope you’ve all finished your cereal when you view this:


More on why not to DIY

23 10 09


I am so bloody glad today is Friday.

It has been an eventful week, mostly very good barring the party my neighbours held last night outside my bedroom window (on their balcony). Hearing one of the men bellowing a dozen times, in a most unattractive asinine tone, that someone he and his guests knew was ‘a hippo’ did not endear me to the donkey-boy. Nor did the shrieking and completely insincere replies of ‘shame!’ and ‘no she isn’t’ by a couple of the female guests endear me to them. Not because of the insult, you understand. Just because they had the most irritating voices I’ve ever heard at 11 o’ clock at night. Young students are fucking arseholes.

I have resumed attempting DIY chores after about a year’s break. Last week I fitted a new lock and door handles on my balcony door after Mary the Cleaner destroyed the lock almost a year ago. I purchased the required bits and bobs from Game, unscrewed the relevant thingies, replaced the lock, re-screwed the relevant do-hickies, and found that I’d put the door handles on the wrong way around, such that I was now unable to close the door owing to the handles getting in the way.

At first I did not realise my mistake. In fact, I became convinced that there were ‘left-handed’ door handles and ‘right-handed’ door handles, and I had simply purchased the wrong type for my door.

After staring at the door for half an hour, it became apparent that all I needed to do to resolve my dilemma was swap the door handles around.

And thus concluded my foray into DIY – as you can tell, it’s probably better that I *don’t* do it myself.

Still…my toilet handle is broken…shall I attempt to fix it?

For sexism, press 1

21 10 09

In the midst of accusations of price collusion among large South African cellphone companies MTN and Vodacom, our other large cellphone service provider, Cell C, has launched a new package which is says ‘been created to meet the unique but shared needs of women across a broad spectrum of society’.

A Cell C spokesman says the package called Women Incorporated (WINC) was developed by a team of women at the company, and that WINC ‘meets the needs of today’s multifaceted woman’.

Firstly, what does ‘unique but shared needs’ mean? Unique = not typical; unusual, unlike any other. Shared = common or usual. Isn’t that similar to saying, ‘It’s specific in a general way’?

Ok, pay attention you men and women…you need to know what topics Cell C maintains are the ‘unique but shared needs’ of women. Today’s ‘multifaceted’ woman is interested in, among others:

· love & sex

· parenting

· astrology

· fashion & beauty

· TV & gossip

· easy weekday meals

Do you hear that, men? You males apparently would not be interested in love and sex, parenting or easy weekday meals. And women, it is so obvious that Cell C was thinking of you and me when it decided that what we really want to read about is astrology, fashion and beauty, and TV and gossip.

I am today’s astrology-subscribing, parenting-obsessed, gossip-addicted multifaceted woman… hear me shriek femininely.

The Cell C spokesman added that, “Women have become much more independent and play an active role in shaping society today in different roles as mothers, wives, girlfriends and professionals.”

Right, so in order of importance – because that is most certainly the implicit meaning in that little sentence – women are mothers, wives, girlfriends and then professionals. Imagine conceptualising a cellphone package especially for men and then selling it on the premise that men shape society predominantly in their roles as fathers, husbands, boyfriends and, lastly, as professionals.

Why do women need their own specially designed cellphone packages? What is this really about? Surely the needs of all cellphone users are basically the same: cheaper call and SMS rates, cheaper subscription rates and better network coverage. Do women really want to connect on an ideological level with a fucking cellphone provider?! What sexist bull.