November 30, 2012

It's (a final Movember) Friday!

Ola all,

Yip, it’s Friday (well it is while I’m typing – when you read this, time could actually, and inexplicably, have moved on) and I’ve been quite busy. I’m still busy. It’s been a busy week. Full of busyness, so to speak. However, while efficiently utilising time relative to the results achieved while utilising lots of time in doing it, a natural realisation dawned upon me that I may have bent the truth just a wee tad last week when I said “nothing really exciting actually happened…”

Quite a few things actually happened that I never lighted upon…

If you’re wondering where this language is coming from, wonder no more: I recently renewed my poetic licence! Worth every penny.

Back to things happening:
Firstly, the Reserve Bank threw me a curveball by releasing new bank notes into circulation while I was sunning my buns in the bushveld. The first I knew about them was when a new R20-bill was propped in my hand as change at a toll gate… (thing about toll gates: no time to argue!). I drove off feeling slightly cheated and totally confused – distinctly uncomfortable with the “foreign 20” in my possession and thinking of ways to get rid of it while staying out of Pollsmoor Prison.
At the first fuel station I used it to purchase a couple of litres – adding a little something to the attendant to sweeten the deal.
Short note: in considering my options to test the “blatant counterfeit”, my obvious choices for expert cash handlers fell between petrol pump attendant and traffic official… I chose the petrol attendant – no need to upset a traffic official during a “delicate negotiation”, eh?.... we do live in South Africa after all!

As I handed him a fistfull of do.... fistfull of notes, I waited, breath bated (question: does that mean my breath smells of anchovies, or I’m gonna catch something with it?), while closely monitoring his expression… My plan proved prudent when I saw his face contort as he noticed the “alien” among its older (and more familiar) friends. I was about to turn and run when a wide grin broke over his face as he exclaimed: “Eish, this new Madiba money catches me out – every time!”
So, we have new money – that’s something.

Oh, and even before that something else happened: while still IN the bushveld, Peanut, our wee gal, got bit by a snake (this is South Africa, after all… or did I say that already somewhere?) – right on the foot! In a bit of a panic I picked up the little one and we rushed off to the doctor… how fortunate that it happened in the ONLY camp where a medical practitioner has rooms… They dropped everything when they heard our news, rushing our bewildered party through reception, past the waiting throngs of two individuals, and immediately started an examination: they looked, palpated, and listened. They mouth-to-mouthed, listened, resuscitated, and listened again… A push here, a prod there, a few injections and we were told to wait… and watch… and hope…
But alas, they just couldn’t save that poor snake!
That’s gotta count for something, don’t you think?

Africa’s a tough country – definitely NOT for sissies! And that little girl is proving to be a carbon copy of her mother – tough and true! A mini-judogirl!

And then…
Wanting to feature somehow, I thought judogirl would appreciate a manly gesture - akin to Kingsley Holgate conquering the great Sahara - on foot! So I organised to collect a bakkie-load of the best Rooikrans braai wood the Western Cape has to offer. At a VERY reasonable price. Extremely reasonable. My "connection" "connected" me with a "supplier" (this licence thing is magic - how else can you get away with using so many of those "" thingies?). They led the way into the sandy wilderness with an instruction to meet them "at the top of the hill" – that statement was as broad as a politician’s promise. But I wasn’t concerned – I was driving "The Beast"! A 3.5litre rough-n-tough, go-where-you-want, beast of a bakkie with BF Goodridges allround. They pitched up with battered and broken rust-buckets running on 3 cylinders slowly drifting over the sandy terrain.

I’m not going to bore you with details…... No, I’m not..... Stop asking….!

OK, in short: I got stuck. Tried digging myself out. Got stuck more. They dragged me out. The end. See? Nothing happened.

And later that day the Springboks, against all odds and logic,  managed to trounce the English… by a single point. A trouncing nevertheless.

And while we’re talking about the Poms, it’s a very closely-guarded secret that I don’t have much gumption for the monarchy and what they actually do… or don’t do… or what they… eish, who again? Anyhoo, this week, I happened upon a recent correspondence which I thought quite impressive, thoughtful, and generous. It coming from the top Royal Hindness herself made it even more spectacular. It was a recent communication sent to the USA after their most recent elections. Fascinating reading:

To the citizens of the United States of America

from Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II

In light of your failure in recent years to nominate competent candidates for President of the USA and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective immediately. (Please look up 'revocation' in the Oxford English Dictionary.)

Her Sovereign Majesty Queen Elizabeth II will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths, and territories (except North Dakota, which she does not fancy).

Your new Prime Minister, David Cameron, will appoint a Governor for America without the need for further elections.

Congress and the Senate will be disbanded. A questionnaire may be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed.

To aid in the transition to a British Crown dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect:
1. The letter 'U' will be reinstated in words such as 'colour,' 'favour,' 'labour' and 'neighbour.' Likewise, you will learn to spell 'doughnut' without skipping half the letters, and the suffix '-ize' will be replaced by the suffix '-ise.' Generally, you will be expected to raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels. (look up 'vocabulary').

2. Using the same twenty-seven words interspersed with filler noises such as 'like' and 'you know' is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication. There is no such thing as U.S. English. We will let Microsoft know on your behalf. The Microsoft spell-checker will be adjusted to take into account the reinstated letter 'u'' and the elimination of '-ize.'

3. July 4th will no longer be celebrated as a holiday.

4. You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns, lawyers, or therapists. The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you're not quite ready to be independent. Guns should only be used for shooting grouse. If you can't sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist, then you're not ready to shoot grouse.

5. Therefore, you will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous than a vegetable peeler. A permit will be required if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public.

6. All intersections will be replaced with roundabouts, and you will start driving on the left side of the road with immediate effect. At the same time, you will go metric with immediate effect and without the benefit of conversion tables. Both roundabouts and metrication will help you understand the British sense of humour.

7. The former USA will adopt UK prices on petrol (which you have been calling gasoline) of roughly $10/US gallon. Get used to it.

8. You will learn to make real chips. Those things you call French fries are not real chips, and those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called crisps. Real chips are thick cut, fried in animal fat, and dressed, not with catsup, but with vinegar.

9. The cold, tasteless stuff you insist on calling beer is not actually beer at all. Henceforth, only proper British Bitter will be referred to as beer, and European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as Lager. South African beer is also acceptable, as they are pound for pound the greatest sporting nation on earth and it can only be due to the beer. They are also part of the British Commonwealth - see what it did for them. American brands will be referred to as Near-Frozen Gnat's Urine, so that all can be sold without risk of further confusion.

10. Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as good guys. Hollywood will also be required to cast English actors to play English characters. Watching Andie MacDowell attempt English dialect in Four Weddings and a Funeral was an experience akin to having one's ears removed with a cheese grater.

11. You will cease playing American football. There is only one kind of proper football; you call it soccer. Those of you brave enough will, in time, be allowed to play rugby (which has some similarities to American football, but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like a bunch of nancies).

12. Further, you will stop playing baseball. It is not reasonable to host an event called the World Series for a game which is not played outside of America. Since only 2.1% of you are aware there is a world beyond your borders, your error is understandable. You will learn cricket, and we will let you face the South Africans first to take the sting out of their deliveries.

13. You must tell us who killed JFK. It's been driving us mad.

14. An internal revenue agent (i.e. tax collector) from Her Majesty's Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all monies due (backdated to 1776).

15. Daily Tea Time begins promptly at 4 p.m. with proper cups, with saucers, and never mugs, with high quality biscuits (cookies) and cakes; plus strawberries (with cream) when in season.

God Save the Queen! *





*from this face I think that's more of an instruction than a request...




And then Movember has all but run its course: 30 days of stubble accumulated on my upper lip, and I am VERY glad to report that “Wilkinson Sword” does indeed NOT refer to a child’s birthday party. If you do not know what I’m talking about, it is blatantly obvious you didn’t read last week’s blog, or you have the memory of a carrot…. and with the world’s population currently in excess of 6 gazillion-trillion-million and the blog not receiving that many hits I can safely assume you didn’t……… go read it.

Tomorrow the Mo’s gonna go! It’s been fun and for a very good cause – one close to my heart… well, about 30-40cm due south from my heart actually. However… it is time! It itches, it irritates, it irks… it MOVES!!!

One last look…






















OK, so I’ve talked much and said nothing. For the rest it’s about a very scary 4 year old, a minx of a 16 year old, and a Chinese bloke who’s very old. A final look at brand power and the millionaires share a chuckle, and my Pick of the Week graciously supplied by Insta’Gran. Thanks also to friend moonstone, the Lawman, and of course babydoll. Pastor Bob had a very later entry, but it made it - thanks!

Hope you all have a grand week!


Kids… ‘nuf said
Dave was staring sadly into his beer and sighed heavily.
“What’s up Dave?” asked the bartender. “It’s not like you to be so down in the mouth.”
“It’s my four year old son…” the man replied.
“Don’t tell me, he’s in trouble for fighting in school? My lad’s just the same. Forget about it, it happens to boys that age,” said the bartender, sympathetically.
“I only wish it was that,” continued the customer, “but it’s far worse than that. The little *&#$%*# has got our gorgeous 18 year old next door neighbour, who babysits him every now and then, pregnant.”
"Get away, that’s impossible!” gasped the bartender.
“It’s not,” said the man. "The little sod stuck a pin in all my condoms.”


Brand power (if big brands made condoms…)


















Brand power ignored!
A woman takes her 16-year-old daughter to the doctor.
The doctor says, "Okay, Mrs. Jones, what's the problem?"
The mother says, "It's my daughter, Debbie. She keeps getting these cravings. She's putting on weight, and is sick most mornings." (title making sense now?)
The doctor gives Debbie a good examination, then turns to the mother and says, "Well, I don't know how to tell you this, but your Debbie's pregnant - about 4 months, would be my guess."
The mother says, "Pregnant?! She can't be, she has never ever been left alone with a man! Have you Debbie?"
Debbie says, "No mother! I've never even kissed a man!"
The doctor walked over to the window and just stood there staring out into orbit. About five minutes pass and finally the mother says, "Is there something wrong out there doctor?"
The doctor replies, "No, not really, it's just that the last time anything like this happened, a star appeared in the east and three wise men came over the hill. And there's no way I'm going to miss it this time!



Confucius says...


Man who sneezes without tissue takes matters in his own hands

Virginity like bubble: one prick, all gone

Man wrapped up in himself make very small package

Man who wear g-string high on crack







It's different when uber-millionaires joke…







































Pick of the Week
A chicken farmer went to a local bar, sat next to a woman and ordered a glass of champagne.
The woman perks up and says, 'How about that? I just ordered a glass of champagne, too!'
'What a coincidence' the farmer says. 'This is a special day for me.... I am celebrating'
'This is a special day for me too, I am also celebrating!' says the woman.
'What a coincidence!' says the farmer! As they clinked glasses the man asked, 'What are you celebrating?'
'My husband and I have been trying to have a child and today my gynecologist told me that I am pregnant!'
'What a coincidence,' says the man. 'I'm a chicken farmer and for years all of my hens were infertile,
but today they are all laying fertilized eggs.'
'That's great!' says the woman. 'How did your chickens become fertile?'
'I used a different cock,' he replied.
The woman smiled and said, 'What a coincidence.'


November 22, 2012

It's (another Movember) Friday!

Ola all,

It’s that time of the week where you’re watching the clock, feverishly finding ways to seem productive while you’re planning the weekend ahead… I aim to assist in that endeavour. Not so much the preparing-for-the-weekend part (can’t help you there – have kids) but the looking-very-busy-reading-urgent-report bit!

Unfortunately that’s not going to be that easy this week because nothing really exciting actually happened: the Springboks played like a bunch of girls managing, by mere mercy alone, in avoiding another humiliating defeat to a very spirited Scottish side. Our very own BokDok put it very eloquently in a message sent to me during the match: “…there's so much individual sh*t out there - they can’t even play sh*t as a team!”

In their defence though: I have it on very good authority that the Springboks’ travel arrangements put them under some pressure as they arrived at the stadium a tad later than scheduled. This didn’t allow much time to do their hair and make-up before kick-off. We can but hope that the management cuts short beauty-sleep this coming Saturday, or at least arrange for pamper-packs on the bus to Twickenham. If not, things could go seriously wrong against the Souties.

Go Bokke, we’re right behind you! (together with Estee Lauder, Max Factor, and that Avon chick)

All jokes aside, we support you Bokke - 100% (and any other team that plays against England… even the Aussies)!

Talking of Aussies… apparently some of their cricket batsmen didn’t get the memo that it’s not very sportsmanlike to hog the batting crease for days on end scoring tons of runs against the Proteas… but that’s down in Aus and who watches Aussie sport anyway?

Other than that, Movember is running into its final week and very many very hairy upper lips have sprouted (say that three times out loud) all over the place. And having committed to this cause, enduring the fluff, the itch, the scratching, the comments and skin grafts, the moustache is actually starting to grow on me – we’ve become very attached in a way. I think it makes me look “Distinguished Gentleman” – Judogirl reckons “Baby Walrus”.

There’s only 1 week left of this Movember, so we’ll see what happens to the Mo after that… I notice Judogirl’s marked the calendar with a big red circle on December 1st - looks like a birthday party again… someone called “Wilkinson Sword”. Sheesh, what people don’t call their kids nowadays! Can’t recall meeting the Swords… they must be new in town. Maybe they’ll like the moustache…

How can they not – just look at it…



















I’m a Mo Bro and proud of it! Please visit my MoBro space to contribute to the cause! Congrats and thanks also to all the Mo Sistas - ladies who support Movember by supporting their man or the cause in general!


At work I’m looking to employ an administrator which means I’ve spent hours reading through stacks of resum├ęs. Although this is an extremely responsible job, it can be very laborious. I had to give credit to a few candidates who managed to keep me sane during this process with the following few choice phrases:

Qualifications:
"I’m filled with passion and integrity, and I can act on short notice. I'm a class act and do not come cheap."
"Here are my qualifications for you to overlook."

Job Responsibilities:
"While I am open to the initial nature of an assignment, I am decidedly disposed that it be so oriented as to at least partially incorporate the experience enjoyed heretofore and that it be configured so as to ultimately lead to the application of more rarefied facets of financial management as the major sphere of responsibility."
(I think this guy worked for Lehmann Brothers in 2007…)

Reasons for terminating previous employment:
"Responsibility makes me nervous."
"They insisted that all employees get to work by 8:45 every morning. I could not work under those conditions."
"I was met with a string of broken promises and lies. As well as cockroaches."
"I was working for my mom until she decided to move."
"The company made me a scapegoat - just like my three previous employers."

Physical Disabilities:
"Minor allergies to house cats and Mongolian sheep."
(!!!)

General:
"I am extremely loyal to my present firm, so please don't let them know of my immediate availability."
"I intentionally omitted my salary history. I've made money and lost money. I've been rich and I've been poor. I prefer being rich."
"Please don't misconstrue my 14 jobs as 'job-hopping'. I have never quit a job."
"I was proud to win the Gregg Typting Award."
"My goal is to be a meteorologist. But since I have no training in meteorology, I thought I should try stock brokerage."  (another Lehmann man!)
"I procrastinate - especially when the task is unpleasant."

Personal Interests:
"Donating blood. 14 gallons so far."
(Previous employer: Dr A Cula of Transylvania perhaps?)

Small typos that could’ve changed the meaning… or maybe not:
"Work Experience: Dealing with customers' conflicts that arouse."
"Develop and recommend an annual operating expense fudget."
"I'm a rabid typist."
"Instrumental in ruining entire operation for a Northwest chain operation."

And my favourites – bonus points for originality:
"Please call me after 5:30 because I am self-employed and my employer does not know I am looking for another job."
"Marital Status: Often.   Children: Various."


In an interview I congratulated the candidate, a Mo Sista, on supporting the Movember cause:
"That fake moustache looks so real!" I congratulated.
"What fake moustache?" she asked.

The position hasn't been filled yet...


This week it’s about young love, naked men, Confucius and other South African celebs. Little Larry is on summer holiday, but a couple of millionaires are standing in for him over the next three weeks. There’s something on the power of branding and my Pick of the Week.

Thank you to the contributors: Insta’Gran, Lawman, Friend moonstone, BokDok and babydoll. And a special thank you to you for reading this drivel – what would it be without you?!

Have a lekker weekend!

(Oh by the way, I'm "going social" (whatever the tonsil that means), so if you like this, please tell your friends - facebook and twitter link now supplied.... somewhere around here... I think...)


Young Love
Little Billy and Lucy are only 12 years old, but they know they are in love. One day they decide that they want to get married, so Billy goes to Lucy's father to ask him for her hand.
Billy bravely walks up to him and says, "Mr Smith, me and Lucy are in love and I want to ask you for her hand in marriage."
Thinking that this was just the cutest thing, Mr Smith replies, "Well Billy, you're only 12… where will you two live?"
Without even taking a moment to think about it Billy replies, "In Lucy's room. It's bigger than mine and we can both fit there nicely."
Still thinking this is just adorable, Mr Smith says with a huge grin, "Okay, then how will you live? You're not old enough to get a job. You'll need to support Lucy."
Again, Billy instantly replies, "Our pocket money. Lucy gets five pounds a week and I get 8 pounds. That's about 52 pounds a month so we should do just fine."
Mr Smith is impressed that Billy has put so much thought into this.
"Well Billy, it seems like you have everything worked out. But if you want to get married, you might end up having kids of your own. What then?"
Billy shrugs his shoulders and says, "Well, we've been lucky so far."
(Mr Smith no longer thinks the little sh*t is adorable)


Brand power (if big brands made condoms…)















A letter to Grandma
A man moves into a nudist colony. He receives a letter from his grandmother asking him to send her a current photo of himself in his new location. Too embarrassed to let her know that he lives in a nudist colony, he cuts a photo of himself in half and mails it to her.
The next day he discovers that he had accidentally sent her the bottom half of the photo. He's really worried but then remembers how bad his grandmother's eyesight is, and hopes she won't notice.
A few weeks later, he receives a letter from his Grandmother saying:
Dear Petie,
Thanks for your letter. I am very happy that you are enjoying your new home.
Thank you also for the lovely picture. You look fit. I think you might want to change your hairstyle though, it makes your nose look too short."
Love,
Grandma



Confucius say…



Man stuck in pantry have ass in jam.

Man who jumps through screen door could strain himself

Don't eat snow where huskies go

Man who wish to make headlines should sleep on corduroy pillow





Truly South African
This is a truly South African gem. In order to make it global the following background:
Jacob Zuma is currently South Africa’s 3rd democratically elected President;
Ernie Els is one of South Africa’s greatest and most successful golfers of all time;
Naas Botha is, at the end of the day, South Africa’s most iconic (kicking) flyhalf of all…

Jacob Zuma walked into a branch of Standard Bank to cash a cheque. As he approached the cashier he said, “Yes, good morning. Could you please cash this cheque for me?"
Cashier: "It would be my pleasure sir. Could you please show me your ID?"
Zuma: "Well actually, I am Jacob Zuma, the President. Don’t you recognise me?"
Cashier: "I'm sorry, but with all the regulations nowadays, monitoring of the banks, FICA, scrutinising of imposters, fraud and forgers, I must insist on proof of identity."
Zuma: "Just ask anyone here at the bank who I am and they will tell you. Everybody knows who I am. Serious!"
Cashier: "I am sorry sir, but these are the bank rules and I must abide by them. I’m sure you can understand."
Zuma: "Eish man, but I need this cheque cashed."
Cashier: "Mmm… well, perhaps there's another way... You see, one day Ernie Els came into the bank without ID. To prove he was Ernie Els he pulled out his putter and made a beautiful putt that rolled right across the bank’s foyer, through the credit card department and into a cup in the manager’s office. With that shot we knew him to be Ernie Els and cashed his cheque.
Another time, Naas Botha came in without ID. He pulled out a rugby ball and made a fabulous drop kick. The ball flew through the air, right over this exact counter, and landed in my coffee mug without spilling a drop. With that spectacular kick we knew him to be Naas Botha and cashed his cheque.
So sir, is there anything that you can do to prove that it is you, and only you, our President?"
Zuma stood thinking for some time, and finally said: "Honestly madam, I can't think of a single thing I'm good at."
Cashier: "Ah, welcome Mr President, will that be large or small notes?"


Of being Bill Gates and Steve Jobs (RIP)…






































Pick of the Week:
Tony and Yvonne were both 85 years old and in very good health, largely due to Yvonne's insistence on healthy foods and exercise for the last decade. One day, their good health didn't help when they went on yet another holiday and their plane crashed, sending them off to Heaven. They reached the pearly gates, and St. Peter escorted them inside. He took them to a beautiful mansion, furnished in gold and fine silks, with a fully stocked kitchen and a waterfall in the master bath. A maid could be seen hanging their favourite clothes in the closet.
They gasped in astonishment when he said, 'Welcome to Heaven. This will be your home now!'
'How much is all this going to cost?' asked Tony.
'Why, nothing,' Peter replied, 'remember, this is your reward in Heaven.'
Tony looked out the window and right there he saw a championship golf course, finer and more beautiful than any ever built on Earth.
'What are the greens fees?' Tony grumbled.
'This is Heaven,' St. Peter replied. 'You can play for free. Every day!'
Next they went to the clubhouse and saw the lavish buffet lunch, with every imaginable cuisine laid out before them, from seafood to steaks to exotic deserts, free flowing beverages.
'Don't even ask,' said St. Peter to Tony. 'This is Heaven, it is all free for you to enjoy.'
Tony looked around and glanced nervously at Yvonne.
'Well, where are the low fat and low cholesterol foods and the decaffeinated tea?' he asked.
That's the best part,' St. Peter replied. 'You can eat and drink as much as you like of whatever you like and you will never get fat or sick. This is Heaven!'
'No gym to work out at?' said Tony
'Not unless you want to,' was the answer.
'No testing my sugar or blood pressure or...'
'Never again. All you do here is enjoy yourself.'
Tony glared at Yvonne and said, 'You and your flippen Bran Flakes. We could have been here ten years ago!'

November 16, 2012

It's (a Movember) Friday!

Ola all,

Yip, it’s Friday and I’m back from the bush! A wonderful time was had by all the animals and other invertebrates… and a few fish. For me though, one helluva trying time where potential rest and relaxation was replaced by quantity family time – read it again: quantity!! Yes, I love them, but by all that is good and holy, it was waaay too much time spent with the little critters crammed into a confined space for an extended period of time… I can go on, but suffice to say they were a handful… Jeepers! Judogirl and I have decided to run a lottery: anyone who’s interested in babysitting the kung-fu kids for the two weeks whenever next we manage to take a holiday can enter. So far the response hasn’t been overwhelming: apart from Ouma and Oupa (whom we entered against their will) we haven’t had any takers. It’s early days though – let me know if you’re interested: they’re really sweet little terrorists…

While all of this holidaying was going on, very many other things transpired and are in the process of transpiring as we speak – I really don’t know where to start… but I’ll try.

Firstly, my deepest and most sincere apologies – I’ve messed up BIGtime!! The entire October transpired without my mentioning the greatest event of every October:
South Africa’s Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition!

If you are of female persuasion you may have wondered why I have a shrine dedicated to this publication displayed prominently (and permanently) on this blog (if you are a male, you’ve never wondered nor cared, just appreciated and possibly applauded). There is, however, a very specific reason for this: the SASI Swimsuit Edition is the actual reason for this blog coming into being. I won’t go into it here, but you will find a link after the week’s pick.

Then there was the USA (well, it's still there... but you know what I mean): of storms big and small, political and otherwise.
Our thoughts with all those affected by Superstorm Sandy – wow, what a monster!!
Politics… I won’t go there – got nothing to do with me. However, a thought that I can’t shrug: A candidate’s dedication to serve the people, win or lose, can be directly determined by his efforts to serve said people during the term (4 years) following the election. Therefore, imagine the power and possibilities if both Presidential candidates could combine their efforts, influence and resources and dedicate themselves to a common cause. It will be interesting to see what happens…

And yes, this holds true for any democracy. Viva!

Other than that, it’s the middle of Movember where men from all over grow moustaches to raise awareness about prostate and testicular cancer. We have to! You see, even though testicular and prostate cancer is more common than breast cancer and more men die from the Big C, much more is known about breast cancer and there is more research on the topic. Apparently this is because breasts are discussed more openly and more often than testicles… fancy that!

I would therefore like to thank and congratulate very many of my friends and colleagues who contribute generously in this regard: your selfless sacrifice in (regularly) discussing this topic is very much appreciated.
To our wives and girlfriends: we do it because we care!

Thank you also to all the moustaches out there: male and female alike! It’s taken some effort, but I am proud to say mine is starting to look like Tom Selleck’s (on his 10th birthday)!

In short: I have nuts, balls, dingleberries, nads, Cracker Jacks – call them what you like – and I support any effort and research that’ll help me keep ‘em! (see how you can help by visiting www.movember.com for more on this topic)

There’s always more but I’m running out of space here, so let’s get on with the giggles sent to me by babydoll and friend Moonstone. It's about signs and Confucius is here to inspire with ancient wisdom. A drunk Irishman finds Jesus and, in keeping with the topic of Men’s Health while deviating from my usual shorts, a short story about one of those medical tests we men never discuss supplied by Farmer John from the land of Aus… brilliant!

It's grand to be back. Hope you have a lekker weekend!


Clever Business Signs
In a Podiatrist's office:
"Time wounds all heels."

On a Plumber's truck:
"We repair what your husband fixed."

On another Plumber's truck:
"Don't sleep with a drip. Call your plumber."

On a Church's Bill board:
"7 days without God makes one weak."

On an Electrician's truck:
"Let us remove your shorts."

In a Non-smoking Area:
"If we see smoke, we will assume you are on fire and take appropriate action."

At an Optometrist’s Office:
"If you don't see what you're looking for, you've come to the right place."

At a Car Dealership:
"The best way to get back on your feet? Miss a car payment."

Outside a Car Exhaust Store:
"No appointment necessary. We hear you coming."

In a Vet’s waiting room:
"Be back in 5 minutes. Sit! Stay!"

In the front yard of a Funeral Home:
"Drive carefully. We'll wait."

At a Radiator Shop:
"Best place in town to have a leak."

Back of a Septic Tank Truck:
"Caution: this truck is full of Political Promises"



Confucius say:


Man with one chopstick go hungry

Man who stick foot in mouth get athlete's tongue

Man with tight trousers is pressing his luck

Man piss in wind, wind piss back





Pick of the Week:
An Irishman is stumbling through the woods, totally drunk, when he comes upon a preacher baptizing people in the river. The Irishman proceeds into the water, inevitably bumping into the preacher…
The preacher turns around and is almost overcome by the smell of alcohol, whereupon, he asks the drunk, "Are you ready to find Jesus?"
The drunk Irishman shouts, "Yes, oi am!"
So the preacher grabs him and dunks him in the water. He pulls him back and asks, "Brother, have you found Jesus?"
The drunk replies, "No, oi haven't found Jesus!"
The preacher, shocked at the answer, dunks him again but for a little longer. He again pulls him out of the water and asks, "Have you found Jesus, my brother?"
The Irishman, slightly more sober, answers, "No, oi haven't found Jesus!"
By this time the preacher is at his wits end and dunks the drunk again, but this time holds him down for about 30 seconds, and when he begins kicking his arms and legs about, he pulls him up.
The preacher again asks the Irishman, "For the love of God, have you found Jesus?"
The drunk staggers upright, wipes his eyes, coughs up a bit of water, catches his breath, and says to the preacher, "Are you sure this is where he fell in"?


And then…


Of Colonoscopies… and other medical marvels 
(generously supplied by Dave Barry: a Pulitzer Prize-winning humour columnist for the Miami Herald)

I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make an appointment for a colonoscopy. A few days later, in his office, Andy showed me a colour diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one point passing briefly through Minneapolis.

Then Andy explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in a thorough, reassuring and patient manner. I nodded thoughtfully, but I didn't really hear anything he said, because my brain was shrieking, “HE'S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET LONG UP YOUR BEHIND!”

I left Andy' s office with some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called 'MoviPrep,' which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of America 's enemies.

I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous. Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation.

In accordance with my instructions, I didn't eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavour. Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep...
You mix two packets of powder together in a one-litre plastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water. (For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a litre is about 32 gallons). Then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes - and here I am being kind - like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.

The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humour, state that after you drink it, “a loose, watery bowel movement may result.” This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground.

MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don't want to be too graphic, here, but: have you ever seen a space-shuttle launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate everything. And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink another litre of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you haven’t even eaten yet.

After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep.

The next morning my wife drove me to the clinic. I was very nervous. Not only was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage. I was thinking, “What if I spurt on Andy?' How do you apologize to a friend for something like that? Flowers would not be enough.”

At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and totally agreed with whatever the heck the forms said. Then they led me to a room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked.

Then a nurse, named Eddie, put a little needle in a vein in my left hand. Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I was already lying down. Eddie also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep. At first I was ticked off that I hadn't thought of this, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire Hose Mode. You would have no choice but to burn your house.

When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room, where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist. I did not see the 17,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere. I was seriously nervous at this point.

Andy had me roll over on my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand. There was music playing in the room, and I realized that the song was 'Dancing Queen' by ABBA. I remarked to Andy that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular procedure, 'Dancing Queen' had to be the least appropriate.

'You want me to turn it up?' said Andy, from somewhere behind me.

'Ha ha,' I said. And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more than a decade. If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like.

I have no idea.

Really.

I slept through it. One moment, ABBA was yelling 'Dancing Queen, feel the beat of the tambourine,' and the next moment, I was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood. Andy was looking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt excellent. I felt even more excellent when Andy told me that it was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colours. I have never been prouder of an internal organ.



and while on the subject of Colonoscopies...
A physician claimed that the following are actual comments made by his patients (predominately male) while he was performing their colonoscopies:

1. ‘Take it easy, Doc. You're boldly going where no man has gone before!’

2. 'Found Amelia Earhart yet?'

3. 'Can you hear me NOW?'

4. 'Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?'

5. 'You know, in Arkansas we're now legally married.'

6. 'Any sign of the trapped miners, Chief?'

7. 'You put your left hand in, you take your left hand out...'

8. 'Hey! Now I know how a Muppet feels!'

9. ‘Hey Doc, let me know if you find my dignity.'

10. ‘Could you write a note for my wife saying that my head is not up there?'


and finally:
My contribution to raising awareness about Men's Health - Nuts for the Soul
Also please read SASI SWIMSUIT EDITION – this blog owes it's existence to it!