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Behold D’ave, enjoying a mid day stroll:

Simply drag this pic into iAge’s friendly user interface, select an age (let’s say, 40), and voila:

Ah, two D’aves, that’s not so bad really…!

Just spotted at a Sandton cafe.

Not to be confused with bukkake, (click at own risk) despite the mozzarella topping.

Yummy….!

Some people just don’t begin to get it. I just got this (unsolicited) mail from Nedbank:

At no point in the mail do they bother to tell me what’s happening, or why I must give up my time to join them for a free muffin. Is there a guest speaker? Is there anything worthwhile going on that would warrant me giving up my time to drive into town (the venue is the pyramid)? If there is, they’re not letting on.

You need to tease me a little.

Make an effort…!

I can’t find anything about this in the news yet, but I have heard from reliable sources (702 and a mate in the pub last night) that Absa have given the corporate shoe to the rapidly exiting behind of Young & Rubicam.

I’d love to know what led to this. There’s nothing on their website, but this might be because their news-updater was one of the 15 plus staff members who received their own walking papers yesterday.

Does this mean we never have to hear Youssou Ndour and Neneh Cherry’s ‘7 seconds’ again? Here’s hoping.

South Africans, after a worldwide survey, have been classified as bad in bed, but it looks like some people will try anything to keep themselves ‘up’ and going.

An 81-year-old lady had her throat slit with a knife yesterday morning in Cresta Shopping Mall by a mentally disturbed woman.

Today’s news heading:

Mall murder suspect ‘not violent’



No track record or indication of any violence in this lady, until now. She was assessed by a team of specialists and released into the custody of her family. Then she ran away, slit an old lady’s throat and walked away.

Firstly: How stupid are these news-writers to say something as absurd as this? I say very. Not violent? She slit someone’s throat you crazy bastards! You could’ve headered it as “Crazy bitch that slits throats wasn’t violent until now” or “Bottled up anger forces loony-bin lady into a throat-slitting frenzy” or something creative like that.

Secondly: Either this chick had a plan, or these specialists are really special… They must be kicking themselves for releasing this sideshow back into the community.

Glomail has a car wash like no other, Titanium Protection.

“The unique formulation is engineered for today’s automotive coatings, ensuring that the wash is friendly for all exterior surfaces without sacrificing power. Titanium Protections is biodegradable and pH balanced to be paint friendly. The high foaming formula primes your car for the ultimate shine.”

And if that didn’t impress you, they throw in an extra bottle of something else, plus a high-absorption shammy and sponge kit that really work, just ask the girls in short skirts that are working on that beautiful new Beamer with ease.

But wait, there’s more…

They actually do tests on these cars. Spraypaint? Wipes away with a wet cloth. Burn the car with a flame thrower? Black residue is no match for Titanium Protection. But then, my best, they blow up a car. With explosives! Big bang explosives! And the presenter and his geriatric mate walk over to the car, well, pieces of the car, and say ‘Have a look here, the paint is still in perfect condition.’

I’m so happy to know that when my car blows up, the paint will still be okay, ‘cos that’s what I’m gonna be worrying about.

I could be a surgeon. My patients would love me, but I don’t think they’d live long enough to send me Christmas cards.

I could be the captain of a space shuttle. I’d look great in one of those big white suits, but I don’t think my crew would live long enough to send me Christmas cards.

The security guard at my meeting today is absolutely no good at being a security guard. I spent fifteen minutes waiting in my car while he searched for my name, registration and shoe size in the big file on his table, all between the eighteen times I spelled my first name, last name, both names together and explaining what my breakfast comprised of.

When hiring for positions where someone needs to actually talk to people, don’t you think they should be able to talk to people? You don’t need a PhD to become a security guard, but you do however need to be able to communicate, and communicate well, with people entering your building.

On my way to the entrance, thinking about posting my little rant, I told the lady at the counter that I was here to meet <enter client’s name here>, and she said ‘Are you coming to work here?’

I’m definitely not getting Christmas cards from either of them.

Big up to OldSchoolAndy for proving to us that the most expensive seats definitely aren’t always the best.

Booyah brother…!

I can’t begin to describe how awesome Friday night was. The Offspring played in our beautiful country, and it was beautiful. Never before had I gone so mental as I did that night. It was absolutely killer!

The night started off with people rushing to get good positions, and we all waited there for a long time until it all started. Boobs were aplenty, with all girls on boyfriends’ shoulders feeling compelled to flash them off when they saw themselves on the big screens. Hey, we’re not complaining! It was hilarious, whenever you saw a set of knockers on screen the whole crowd would scream “Yeah!”, until one unlucky gal showed off a really-not-so-nice pair to which the crowd went “Ooh…” in a very negative type of way. Shame.

The event started off with young punk band The Finkelstiens playing probably their best set I’ve heard them play. They’ve grasped the concept of “less talking, more playing” and it works. Next up were the back-together-again Springbok Nude Girls that played every track to a tee, and kept the crowds screaming all their old favourite tracks that got them to where they are today.

Then…

Wow.

What a show. Every bit as fucking awesome as what I’d imagined it would be. They intro’d with the intro from the ‘Splinter’ album, which kicked the springs in my legs to high gear, and absolutely owned that audience for the reminder of the set. Intermission was held, and we were entertained by a really, really, really fat dude in a very little Speedo and super-hero cape. It rocked! Like I said, I really can’t describe how amazing it was. To those of you who joined me in one of the best nights of my life, you know how I feel. To those of you who unfortunately missed it. HA! Sorrie fo’ you!

Thanks to Rich…! and ../Ant for supplying us and our partners with a night to remember for a very long time. Also, a big Boo-ya to ../Ant for being a trooper and braving fighting the crowds with me so we could pee before Offspring started. Big up yo’self!

The good folks over at Mugg and Bean have decided that latte drinkers do not deserve a cookie, while cappuccino drinkers do. Now it’s a really small point, and if you ask you’ll get one, but it makes you wonder about the conversation that took place when the rule was made. I’m betting that someone sat one day drinking a cappuccino and suggested, “we should serve biscuits with these.” and was taken literally. Things like this happen all the time. Banks do it, restaurants do it, they call it segmentation, they think it’s really clever.

They’re wrong…!

This is just plain wrong…!

Researchers from the University of the Free State say that bunnies could be the new diet for poorer regions in SA.

I heard bunny-boiling Glenn Close is particularly happy about this.

SAA’s new eticketing service rocks, to be honest I think my joy has a lot to do with the unbelievable inefficiency of their previous system, but anyway…

You simply arrive at the check-in counter, hand them your drivers license, tell them where your going, and they give you your boarding card, I had mine less than 2-minutes from the time that I entered the queue, and I had a bag to check.

Quick, efficient, nice…!

Or maybe they are. Either way, South Africa has an entry into the ‘Best Foreign Language Picture’ category at the 77th Annual Academy Awards.

Let’s hope Charlize isn’t the only South African to hold one of those bad boys.

So all a man needs to do is bitch about his car radio being stolen for authorities to get off their arses and get to work.

I really really hope they find my Taking Back Sunday.

Damn, this kills me , I hate ad agencies, and I hate Cell C, but gotta give credit where credit is due, the “tell someone” campaign is really very good.

What I like most is that it isn’t arb (even though it is), Cell C gives you something to talk about, and you’ll use your phone to do it. Think about it, how often do advertisers manage to get the right balance between humour and relevance? Not often at all.

I’m still not supporting them though…!

It must have been a shock to everyone when Humansdorp’s Diffie Joubert, age 46 and weighing in at a hefty 350kg, passed away from coronary and renal failure.

I really feel sorry for the family. For their loss, as well as having to live with him until his death. Watching him get bigger and deteriorate. Now they must watch their father/brother/friend buried with the help of a crane. If you or someone you know is heading that way, seek help now. Drop your deep-fried chicken legs right next to the pile of empty pizza boxes and get a clue.

Fat people are not jolly!

I walked towards my car last night after arriving back from a two-day shoot in Gabarone. I was thinking how I want to post about how relieved I am every time I see my car in the same place I’d left it after a trip, this being South Africa, a country that’s loves to support criminals.

So I throw my bags in the back, get in the front and reach for the radio. Great, no radio!!!

The first thing I thought of was how nice the thieves were by locking my car again, just in case other thieves would want to steal anything else of mine. Such nice guys, those radio thieves. They’re always so much more courteous than other thieves. The thing I’m most pissed about is that I had my new Taking Back Sunday CD in the bloody thing! It would have been much better if they stole the whole car, ‘cos it has a tracking system. That way, hopefully, I’d get everything back.

They say bad things happen in three’s. First the McD’s incident, then my radio. Can’t wait for the next one!

Don and I miss you.

Lazy shits…!