Why?

Why is there famine in Africa?
Why is there fighting across the globe? AIDS sweeping the planet and still no cure for HIV.
Why is there so much crap advertising?
Why do people fight?
Why did Heath Ledger have to die?
Why is Britney Spears such a pathetic waste of tabloid paper?
Why is there so much unhappiness? So much divorce?
Why do we only get paid twice a month?
Why not four times a month?
Why do people have to get sick?
Why does it take 7 years to complete a medical degree, and not 4 or 5?
Why can I hear my neighbors having sex, even though my floor is made of concrete?
Why, in God's good name, is there a freakin' shoe on this woman's head?

My first time to a "Tittie Bar"

As a rite of passage, some boys are taken to a strip club, or as they are more commonly known today, a "tittie bar". I was never taken to one, and as of Thursday night, had never BEEN to one.

But it was my Art Director's birthday so off we trotted. A few beers here, a few shots there, and we were off - 4 guys and a girl. Yes, a real live girl joined us. You see, she too had never been to a 'house of exotica'.

So we get there. We walk in, get a discount, take a seat at the bar and look around. Not too bad - looks like a dirty Vegas club with a small platform for dancing and the ever-essential pole.

We order our drinks and the music pumps away. A slightly over-weight, obviously eastern European woman lurches on to stage and starts writhing, much like a snake over an open flame. Not too bad. Almost tasteful. Then her top came off - as expected. The 60-year men hovering around the stage started salivating. We turned, continued chatting, and when we turned back, it was all off. I mean ALL off (except for a garter sporting a few dollar bills). I turned to our female companion and warned her to keep her eyes forward.

We arranged for birthday to have a lap dance - in the back. I felt like I had committed a sordid deed. But he assured me it was just a "not too bad" lap dance.

I think we stayed 30 minutes. And that was my first visit to a "tittie bar"

Last week in photos

Last week it snowed.
A lot.
There was a lot of snow.
It covered the ground.
And crunched under my shoes.
I like snow.
Until it melts.
Then I don't like it.

I want to live my next life backwards

I want to live my next life backwards.

You start out dead and get that out of the way. Then you wake up in an old age home and with each passing day, you feel better and better. Then you get kicked out for being too healthy. Enjoy your retirement and collect your pension.

Then when you start work, you buy a mansion on your first day.

You work 40 years until you're too young to work. You get ready for high school: drink alcohol, party, and you're generally quite promiscuous.

Then you go to elementary school, you become a kid, you play, and you have no responsibilities.

Then you become a baby.

You spend your last 9 months floating peacefully in luxury, in spa-like conditions - central heating, room service on tap, and then you finish off as an orgasm.

How wonderful would life be?

Big time brrrrrrr

So while my sister back in South Africa moans and complains about the heat and humidity, I am here shivering my skinny toosh off and nursing fingers so cold they feel as though they have been tapped with many large hammers.

Instead, here on America's icy east coast, we endured a not-so-warm-and-cuddly -18 degrees Celsius yesterday. Yes folks, minus freakin' 18 degrees (that's 0 degrees fahrenheit for the Americans). I think it was even too cold for snow!

Bundled in a fleece sweatshirt, thick wool coat, scarf, woolen hat, and woolen gloves, I decided to brave the cold to head out to the grocery store. I stepped outside, walked two blocks, changed my mind and headed back. My nose was running, my cheeks were burning. This is just stupidly cold.

And it's such a schlep to go out anywhere. You get all bundled up, brave the cold, then have to unbundle when you reach your destination. Once it's time to leave, you bundle up again and waddle around like some Arctic animal.

Turn on the heat. Someone. Anyone. Please.

It finally arrived

So it finally arrived. Not the ATM – although that would have been nice – but rather my bank card.

I opened a bank account about three weeks ago and have been waiting (patiently, I might add) for my debit card to come. After ten days, I called up my friendly bank associate who informed me that my card had been sent, and returned.

“Are you sure your address is correct?”

Um, yeah, I think so!

“Okay then, we’ll send out another one.”

Wait. Wait. Wait. Nothing.

So I called my friendly bank associate again. She told me maybe I should go into the branch and collect it there. Which I did. Today. And finally I have a bank card again. Amazing how lost one feels without one’s bank card. You can’t shop online. You can’t buy things at the local store – okay, yes you can, with cash, but what if you need cash and the branch is closed? See my dilemma?

But now I have it. Ka-ching.

Remember when ...

Our childhood was so very different to the kids of today. We used to go out and make forts in the bush and race our BMXs down the streets. We'd all walk a mile to the tea room for chappies and spend our R7 a week pocket money on biltong and at the school tuck shop on Monday. I'm sure glad I had my childhood when I did.

To those who were born in the 70s and before:

First, we survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank while they carried us and lived in houses made of asbestos.

They took aspirin, ate blue cheese, raw egg products, loads of bacon and processed meat, tuna from a can, and didn't get tested for diabetes or cervical cancer. Then after that trauma, our baby cribs were covered with bright colored lead-based paints.

We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, doors or cabinets and when we rode our bikes, we had no helmets or shoes, not to mention, the risks we took hitchhiking.

As children, we would ride in cars with no seat belts or air bags.

Riding in the back of a Bakkie on a warm day was always a special treat.

We drank water from the garden hose and NOT from a bottle.

Take away food was limited to fish and chips, no pizza shops, McDonalds, KFC, Steers, Nandos.

Even though all the shops closed at 6.00pm and didn't open on the weekends, somehow we didn't starve to death!

We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle and NO ONE actually died from this.

We could collect old drink bottles and cash them in at the corner store and buy Wilson 's Toffees, Wicks Bubble Gum and some crackers to blow up frogs with.

We ate cupcakes, white bread and real butter and drank soft drinks with sugar in it, but we weren't overweight because......

WE WERE ALWAYS OUTSIDE PLAYING!!

We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on.

No one was able to reach us all day. And we were OK.

We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then ride down the hill, only to find out we forgot to add on brakes. We built tree houses and cubby houses and played in river beds with matchbox cars.

We did not have Playstations, Nintendo's, X-boxes, no video games at all, no 99 channels on DSTV, no video tape movies, no surround sound, no mobile phones, no personal computers, no Internet or Internet chat rooms..........WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them!

We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no lawsuits from these accidents.

Only girls had pierced ears!

We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever.

You could only buy Easter Eggs and Hot Cross Buns at Easter time.......no really!

We were given pellet guns and catapults for our 10th birthdays,

We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just yelled for them! Mum didn't have to go to work to help dad make ends meet!

RUGBY and CRICKET had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment. Imagine that!! Getting into the team was based on MERIT. Strange but true!

Our teachers used to cane us with big sticks for not doing home, we called them Ma'am and Sir, and bully's always ruled the playground at school.

The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law!

Our parents didn't invent stupid names for their kids like "Kiora" and "Blade" and "Ridge" and "Vanilla"

This generation has produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers and inventors ever!

The past 70 years have been an explosion of innovation and new ideas.

We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned HOW TO DEAL WITH IT ALL!

Nine Words Used by Women

It's a jungle out there, we need every bit of help we can get. So here's a heads-up:

1. Fine: This is the word women use to end an argument when they are right and you need to shut up.

2. Five Minutes: If she is getting dressed, this means a half an hour. Five minutes is only five minutes if you have just been given five more minutes to watch the game before helping around the house.

3. Nothing: This is the calm before the storm. This means something, and you should be on your toes. Arguments that begin with nothing usually end in Fine.

4. Go Ahead: This is a dare, not permission. Don't Do It!

5. Loud Sigh: This is actually a word, but is a non-verbal statement often misunderstood by men. A loud sigh means she thinks you are an idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you about nothing. (Refer back to #3 for the meaning of nothing.)

6. That's Okay: This is one of the most dangerous statements a woman can make to a man. That's okay means she wants to think long and hard before deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake.

7. Thanks: A woman is thanking you, do not question, or Faint. Just say you're welcome.

8. Whatever: Is a women's way of saying SCREW YOU!

9. Don't worry about it, I got it: Another dangerous statement, meaning this is something that a woman has told a man to do several times, but is now doing it herself. This will later result in a man asking 'What's wrong?' For the woman's response refer to #3.