November 22, 2012
It's (another Movember) Friday!
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 resumés. 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:
"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."
"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."
"Minor allergies to house cats and Mongolian sheep."
"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."
"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...)
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:
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."
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!'