Friday Ramble 17/02/2006

Welcome back to me.

Cape Town was wicked cool. While everywhere else in the country was knee deep in puddles, that place was cooking every day. What a damn pleasure.

Sit back and let Uncle Kingprawn tell you a few stories.

On about the second day I went on a little wine tour with Don Rob, Commie Bastard and Bunda. It was honestly one of the most pleasurable experiences of my life. Constantly surrounded by mountains, banter and very nice wines. May I suggest to you the Ziegvliet Cabernet Sauvignon – very nice. Anyway, the day was spent missioning around the Cape Winelands and then a nice little trip back over the mountains.




We got back, had a little snackiepoo and then someone made the outlandish suggestion that we go out. Craziness. We went to some place with “a very Cape Town vibe”; which is to say pretentious and, like, shwa. Before long I was so liquored I was being beaten by a girl at foosball. No, seriously, it was the drink. Seriously. It’s a stupid game anyway.

And then…the night progressed.

I remember seeing Labs’ brother Richy Rye Roo being carried out at some point which amused me greatly – they grow up so fast.

I started laying into some Aussie chap about the state of Aussie rugby. He replied that he was from Western Australia or something where they played Aussie Rules and didn’t really give a shit about rugby. Then he laid into me about SA cricket and bought me a Tequila out of pity. Then I found out he was a “landscaper” [read: gardener] which was a respected profession in Aus. Hahaha. Who’s having the last laugh now Aussie wanker?! But I didn’t say that, I just let him buy me another.

Then to the infamous Tin Roof (née Green Man) where things rapidly fell apart. You know one of those crazy dark, dingy, dodgy, student type places where everyone goes when they are completely wrecked in the hopes of coming right with someone in the same state. So before long I found myself confronted by a girl in a familiar manner. Lets just say she was less of a Monet and more of a Picasso or possibly even a Pollock. So I stood there pondering the situation for a second or two…I looked around and thought “hey, it doesn’t look like anyone else is exactly lunging at me – and what goes on tour, stays on tour, right?” And in my moment of pause she just staggered away. I could do nothing but stand there like a tool with my mouth open, thinking “I just got completely dismissed by a fatty”. Wow. I am Jamo’s shattered self-belief.

Saw Ye Olde Bongo for the first time in a year. That was nice – he was fresh from a month and a half trip up through various places in Africa. Good times. He came on a little expedition up Lion’s Head with the members of ‘The Squirrel’s Way’ digs (now called ‘The Staffroom’ because they are all 12th year or something). So off we set to watch the sun…err…set. Let’s just set one thing straight – when it comes to heights I am like a baby, mewling and puking. The next thing I know I am presented with a vertical slab of rock. The rock had been worn completely smooth and all there was to use as an aid was a chain covered in other people’s palm sweat. The whole experience felt like I was oil wrestling Michael Jackson’s defence council the whole goddamn way up. Speaking of which – has anyone seen the new Rammestein video? Scariest music video in history; basically a room full of naked men oil wrestling each other. Cradle of Filth have nothing on that. Where was I? Oh ya, so there I was being pretty pathetic about the whole thing, but no matter how rationally I was well aware that I was being a big fat girl about it – I just couldn’t help looking like a useless, uncoordinated pile of rat excrement while going up.
Ebz, still smarting from being called a ‘teenybopper’ a couple of Rambles ago was laughing gleefully the whole time, asking every so often “are you ok?” with a huge smirk on her face. Shame, one day the little kiddy will grow up.

Flicking through the channels the other day I heard my all time cheesiest line in a movie. (Spoken in a Southern drawl for good measure):

Dancin’ is jerst a conversation. [pregnant pause whilst staring meaningfully
into her eyes] Ta-alk ter me.

Sigh.

I am Jamo’s pulsating bile duct. Hobbo, have you used that one yet?

A lovely little story that I forgotten but of which I was reminded in Cape Town was how Commie Bastard became famous. He used to play wicket keeper for our first team cricket and happened to be playing against a certain Graeme Smith. Commie dropped him on 0. Then missed a stumping on 49. Then Mr. Smith made 98 not out. He loves to be reminded of it over a beer. Pain is temporary, glory is forever right?

Birds Without Wings – read it. By Louis de Bernieres, the same chap who wrote Captain Correlli’s Mandolin. He is one of the most astute judges of the human condition I have ever experienced. There was an article in a GQ a couple of months ago about the top ten war books ever written and I reckon that were this book ten years old, it would have been included.

By the way has anyone signed me up for getting bloody smses about how I can get hardcore porn sent straight to my phone? Whoever it was it’s really irritating and I’m going to kill you if I find out. I don’t have MMS capabilities on my phone.


"Touch that again and I will spitbraai your favourite sheep, farmboy"

Knappy has over the years accumulated several variations on his nickname. Knaps; Knappage; Knaptassies; Knapton and Coke; Knapvaginalcavity.

But it turns out that Knappy is an actual word:

Knappy: having knaps; full of protuberances or humps; knobby.

Knaps (pl): 1. to snap or bite
2. to strike sharply; rap

Check it out at The Free Dictionary if you don’t believe me, because there I found some other priceless beauties.

Knäppup: Swedish for unbutton.

Place names: Knapdale, Knappensee, Knappogue Castle, Knap of Howar. The little village of Knapton is not mentioned.

Knaptoft: civil parish in England; population 50. (Just like PE).

Knapbottle: (Bot.) The bladder campion (Silene inflata) [Ed note: Hee hee hee, that’s my favourite – The prime bollock. Think about it. Hee hee.]

Knapple: To break off with a sharp, abrupt noise; to bite; to nibble.

Knapweed: (surprise, surprise) A type of plant. Variants include: Diffuse Knapweed (nothing to do with his size); Spotted Knapweed (without a telescope, from anywhere in this solar system); Black Knapweed (the side of him opposite the sun); Common Knapweed (anywhere out of his natural habitat PE); Russian Knapweed (after a jack of vodka and coke); Greater Knapweed (since he was about 5).

Jimmy 12 Inch is the most illusive character I know. Unless you are in the same room with him you never know what is going on in his life (and even then that is only if it’s between his waking-hour of 12 and his getting-wasted-on-whatever-substance-he-can-lay-his-hands-on hour of 12:31). The whole emailing thing is not so much beyond him as beneath him. Anyway some news of his activities since he has been in France for the past couple of months finally trickled it’s way to my ears and all it was, was this: First, a Siberian lady friend and then an Alaskan.
Cold hands, warm something-or-other, I suppose. I have never known a person to generate as many crazy stories as he. Incredible. I guess that’s what 12 inches buys you.

Speaking of things cold – been watching a bit of the Winter Olympics. Luge. Seriously. What are those people thinking? Getting hurled down an icy gorge on a tea-tray at 125 km/h? Fine thanks. One of my favourite Seinfeld standup bits goes something like “it’s the only sport that you can take a completely unwilling participant, strap them down kicking and screaming, give them a push and watch them break the World Record.” It’s the same as the Big Air Skiing competition – you don’t watch it because you are interested, but because at any moment, someone is entirely likely to break something.

Then there is curling. Never has the amusement created by a common room full of boyos become more apparent to me. At the last Winter Olympics I must have ended up watching the majority of the curling, just because the crapper the TV content, the funnier the comments flying around the common room. Watching it by myself, all I found myself doing was thinking, “hmmm, that blonde Russian…definitely would” and then falling asleep in my bowl of cornflakes.

I have to throw this out for discussion: Jack Bauer or Michael Scofield; who is the hardest of them all? And not that way Hobbo, both hands above the desk please.

For once I saw something on a reality TV show that was real - The ‘Newlyweds’ show with Jessica Simpson and that guy from that boy-band (ironically enough, aired on St. Valentine’s Day since the two are now divorced or something). To me it perfectly illustrates the irreconcilable difference between men and women. [Ed Note: I was busy channel surfing so I didn’t catch the beginning of the conversation; they were obviously talking about the day before when he had spoken to her in the afternoon and hadn’t called her that night. Ed Out.]

Her: [sulking] Did you go out or something?
Him: [exasperated] No.
Her:
[still sulking] Why didn’t you call me then? I was missing you.
Him: …
Her: I was giving you attitude earlier because I wanted to talk to you and
was missing you.
Him: I didn’t want to talk to you because you were giving
me attitude.
Her: [pouting and sulking] You’re saying all the wrong things…
Him: [like a rabbit in the headlights] …
Her: Do you like my shoes?

And no, I am not making that up; I wrote it down straight away I thought it was so funny.

Has anyone seen the original anime Aeon Flux? It’s on late night on MTV at the mo. If Charlize dresses like that people are going to die from high-velocity-projectile-impact-to-the-back-of-the-head related injuries in cinemas all over the world. Say that three times fast.

Mrs Bredin introduced me to my find of the year – Channel 89: MK89 ‘n program genoem ‘Hoordosis’.

“En hy droom dat hy is op die voorblad van die Huis Genoot of Beeld.”

MD Greyling - Boemelaar

Sung to a tune that sounds really curiously like are to Simon and Garfunkel’s ‘I am a rock’.

Anyone who knows Big Pete, Karel (aka Ali G aka Manmeat)’s old man, look out for him on the Liberty Life Learning Channel teaching physics. I just about choked on an M & M when I saw that. It’s difficult to take a man seriously as learned when you’ve seen him slide down the stairs at The Rat on a tray.

Two of the funniest billboards have appeared in our city: One features two halves of a really ripe, juicy guava and the other a fleshy, pink oyster. Advertising? Teazers. Man, oh man, I laughed. I just hope somewhere there is a mother driving her child around somewhere, whose first word is ‘fleshy, pink oyster’. Sorry I searched the internet really hard to find pictures of them, but to no avail. I even resorted to going to the Teazers website. The things I will do for the Ramble. The only thing that repeatedly, ahem, came up on my searches was people bitching about the ad campaign. Seriously, grow a fuckin’ sense of humour. Do I whine that your neon ‘Church of Life’ signs keep me awake at night? I’m sure some author sometime must have written a little bit about tolerance. Perhaps it was in Greek to keep the ignorant ignorant.

Check out the Ex-Fro

Two little pearls of wisdom I heard this week:

All men ever think about is food and sex; so if he doesn’t have an erection,
make him a sandwich.

Heaven is a pub where the beer is always free and
every night is two for one.

Congratulations to Smythers for reaching the age where he has to start going to a proctologist. Speaking of which, his really funny email in case you missed it. Also, shot for last week’s post. I think it must be the longest yet and I have fielded quite a few emails mistakenly thanking me for alleviating some of their Friday work boredom. I see The Impoverished Teacher to Be is making full use of Short Stories At East of the Web.

Hope you all had a great Monday the 13th.

HAPPY 6 MONTH BIRTHDAY TO THE RAMBLE. WOOOOOO. WOO HOO. WOOOOOO. HOOOOOO.

I have added a whole heap of photos to the players section in honour of this memorable occasion. Check out the one of The Tank. It will eat you alive. Grrrr. Almost everyone is there now, mostly it is incomplete because Smythers has been so slack about getting me the photos he has. Assil. The others, it is mostly because you are such old mates of mine that all the photos I have are not digital (what are those?) There are people out there who need to be on the players list – you know who you are (anyone ever mentioned in this sacred text), so please send us some photos. Laingers, that’s you son. Bredie and Umthondo I need the siffest photo that is not going to land anyone in jail of Mik “Hungarian Honey” Scezimacallit. Thanks. Maybe even one of Bolze because there are those out there that still believe he is a mythological figure.

Chopper shot for still being the most irreverent man I know – your emails kill me. Umthondo, dude, I think that was the funniest ‘your mother’ I have ever heard a couple of Fridays ago. (Apart from when Mrs Bredin cocked it badly). Shot for reply all-ing it to my sister.

I get asked all the time "how is the Ramble produced?"

Now you know.

Ok, enough now.

I love you all.

Love, kisses and may all Aussie Super 14 teams choke while felating a bathtub fixture.
Jamo