Goblin Talk

And then it crashes and we aren’t terribly sad.

Listen, I’m not going to do a big thing about it all because it’s been done at great length today. I will give my two cents.

Lance – As a cyclist, I am already obliged to dislike him. Funnily enough, he actually appears to encompass all the qualities that makes me dislike cyclists. In this case it probably comes from some delusion of self importance caused by him winning that stupid cycling tour or being a uniball. Apparently being a uniball means you only have to obey half the rules. Har har. I’m terrible I know.

Julius – Oh Julius. Bru, you don’t do yourself any favours. I know you think you’re untouchable and you think that it’s great to speak from the heart (or whatever is currrently sitting where your heart used to be) but really, stop putting your foot in your mouth. It’s just embarassing now. And get a facial because you look far too old to be heading up the youth league.

Jub Jub – You fucking idiot. If it wasn’t bad enough for those of us who enjoy moving fast, you’ve gone and made it worse with fucking idiotic and irresponsible behaviour. Dicing in the middle of the afternoon while drunk? Awesome. You’re just an evolutionary loser you are. When driving fast you actually have to be more careful and responsible, I’m just saying.

And now in my life, I have recruited Richard (who is doing an amazing job at a whole lifestyle change and has lost 18kg so far) to be my Mr Miyagi…the second. So far he’s doing a wonderful job – he’s made me feel guilty at least three times today about things like the bread my sandwich was made out of and not eating breakfast. He’s also trying to get me to go hiking. Despite all this, I still love him dearly. But be less disappointed in me (Oh and bloody well done love, it’s amazing how well you’re doing).

Parents fascinate me. They honestly do. As someone who has no inclination to breed and can only equate children to being something icky, I am absolutely fascinated by people who NEED to have kids. Mainly because I don’t understand it.

Those that are desperate to get up the duff have told me why kids are so great and why they just have to have one of their own and all that but none of their reasons make any sense to me.

Something to love and care for? Get a dog, you’ll at least get unconditional love that way. Or if you want something to love with one hell of an attitude, get a cat.

Carry on your genes and leave a legacy? Erm…yeah, I REALLY don’t understand this one.

You just really want to be a mother/father? Dude, I so don’t get it.

That should be expected I suppose. I am, after all, trying to append reasoning and logic to the whole “let’s spawn” decision…which I can’t very well do because it’s mainly an emotional thing yes?

Anyway, the point is, I just don’t get it. At all.

And maybe that’s why I don’t understand how parents come to some decisions when it comes to raising their kids.

This week, I’m baffled by the “war toys” decision. So many parents have decided that their children will absolutely not play with toy guns or anything that propagates possibly violent behaviour. Er…okay.

For me, this decision is right up there with not allowing your kids to watch Peter Pan because they might decide to try and fly off the top bunk of the bunk bed. Or not allowing them to read the Chronicles of Narnia because they might decide that their closet is the doorway to a magical kingdom and drown in a sea of clothes. Yes, it’s that ridiculous to me.

Let me explain why.

I grew up with an older brother and his friends. There were always little army men and pellet guns and toy bows and arrows around the place. Hell, my favourite thing to play with were my dad’s practice fencing foils. It was bloody great fun pretending I was Han Solo and shooting the little lego men first (Ha!) or pretending I was Zorro and slashing my teddy bears with the swords.

But…

I always knew they were toys and not to be used on real people. Want to know why? Because I damn well knew the difference between pretend and real life…and if I hadn’t known it, my mother would have damn well made sure I learnt it quickly.

Fast forward a few years and you end up with me today. I still play with toy guns, except they all exist as bits of code. I spend hours playing Quake and other games, shooting the crap out of people and it’s still great fun.

That doesn’t mean I’m any more violent than the average person though or going to pick up a gun tomorrow and shoot somebody. In fact, it probably makes that less likely.

The kicker is though, that despite the fact that I love toy guns and paintball and pellet guns and all those things, I’m one of those people violently opposed to actual gun ownership. I think it’s fucking stupid. I worked with a guy last year who carried his gun everywhere claiming it was vital for personal safety. Now what is the point? As far as I’m aware, you’re not allowed to keep it loaded, so even if you are one of the people who are unfortunate enough to experience a home invasion or other form of crime, you’d have to run to get your gun (often kept in a safe) and then still take the time to load it – by which time you’d probably be in a spot of trouble. I also told him that he’s more likely to get killed than anything else because that’s exactly what happens. Many people who own guns in the name of protecting themselves, end up being shot by their very own guns. It’s like you’re paying your very own hitman.

Gun ownership argument aside though, the point is…it’s not the toys that are the problem. It’s the moral code and belief system that you raise your child with that is. Your six year old playing with a plastic pea shooter is not the only thing that is going to create a serial killer. It’s also you. Or perhaps genetics. Or some other outside cause. Or  a combination of everything.

But hey, I’m not a parent so what do I know? Although, it does beg the question…How many of you grew up playing Cops and Robbers? Or Cowboys and Indians? Or (if anyone was like our family) Terminator? Most people I grew up with had a pellet gun at some stage. The 90’s was a big time for those things. And not one of them has turned out to be a mass murdering bastard yet.

I’m just saying.

Do you remember the movie? Michael Douglas is at the end of his tether and a traffic jam and an expensive coke drives him over the edge?

Well, that’s what today feels like.

I had an interview that I was pretty excited about this morning – it was for something that I felt like I could do and do well.

Of course, I hadn’t planned on everything being a bit pear shaped this morning:

7:50 a.m. – Wake up in a blind panic. The alarms hadn’t gone off but the sun coming through the curtain seemed a bit too bright to be early. Yes, that’s right folks. Two alarms failed to go off. My cellphone clock inexplicably reset itself whilst the battery operated clock had decided to commit suicide sometime after I checked that it was set to the correct time last night.

7:51 a.m. – Check the time and realise that the Boyf has to be at work in 9 minutes. So not going to happen. Guess this will be the first time he is late in three years. It’s been a good run.

8:05 a.m. – Run out of the house to the car to try and get him to work without incident.

8:10 a.m. – Traffic. Heavier than usual. People don’t understand that green means go.

8:20 a.m. – Drop off the Boyf. Begin trip back home.

8:30 a.m. – Run into the house to get dressed. Somehow, the shirt I had ironed and hung up had fallen off the hanger and now lay in a crinkled heap on the floor.

8:45 a.m. – Hair not co-operating. Fek.

8:50 a.m. – Can’t find car keys. Fek again.

8:52 a.m. – Found car keys. Running out of door.

9 a.m. – Robots that were working half an hour before are suddenly not working. Wait behind long queue of cars while people try and work out how a four way stop works. It’s not difficult guys.

9:10 a.m. – Google Maps and my map book lied to me about the location of the place in Roeland Street. It’s not where they said it would be.

9:15 a.m. – Drive up Roeland street for the fifth time trying to find the place. Still can’t.

9:18 a.m. – Phone the Boyf. Ask him to phone the place and find out exactly where their office is.

9:25 a.m. – Find the office. Can’t find the security guard and not at all sure where to park.

9:28 a.m. – Try and phone their office to find out where I can park, have to stop while dialling to get my car out of the way of someone trying to get past.

9:30 a.m. – (Supposed to be inside already) Phone their office and get told where to park.

9:32 a.m. – Talk to the security guard who has appeared to find out where the hell the door is.

9:33 a.m. – Run up stairs and walk into interview dishevelled, out of breath and rambling like a complete tit. I really shouldn’t be allowed to do interviews.

Of course, these times are an estimate. I actually think it was slightly later that I finally got in there.

And I had to do a copy test. During which I forgot every single thing I had ever learnt about the English language.

I don’t really expect them to call. For a change, you can’t put this lack of confidence down to my low self esteem, I really did bollocks it up.

The icing on the cake though?

11 a.m. (or there about) – Stop at the shop to get something to eat. ATM promptly decides to swallow card. Thankfully, they were refilling the machines so someone was able to get it for me. Nearly had a mini breakdown.

How I made it home without having a car accident or having a block of ice from a plane passing overhead fall on me, I will never know.

It’s review time!

Eddie Izzard

Maybe I’m a bit biased since I absolutely adore the man but the show was brilliant. I laughed until I gave myself a headache. Quite an achievement actually.

There was one issue though.

The audience.

I know we’re rather a reserved bunch when it comes to musical events (which has always dismayed me a bit) but considering the price the tickets for Eddie cost, I was expecting something better for this. I was completely let down. Yes, there were many people who were happily enjoying it, but there was quite a few people who looked like they had been turned to stone and were incapable of laughing. Like the pair sitting in front of us.

This middle aged couple were sitting so still and quiet throughout the show that when we got an interval I was actually surprised to see them get up and move – up until that point I had assumed they were cardboard cutouts or very well made mannequins.

Maybe this is the reason we don’t get many phenomenal international acts. For them, it must feel like they’re performing at a funeral. Get some life into you people, for fucks sakes, you were paying almost R600 each to be there.

I also didn’t realise that some people were so incredibly slow on the uptake either. But having jokes go over your head because you’re daft is an issue for another day.

But yes, Eddie was brilliant. I loved all his teeny tiny references to his earlier work…and to movies. Of course, I probably would have been happy if he had just come on stage, said hello and then buggered off again. Really. I know this because when he came out, I cried.

I do that from time to time. When I got to see the Offspring live? I cried.

Top Gear live? I cried.

Meeting Macauley Culkin? Well, I didn’t cry because I didn’t actually know at the time. But if I had known, I would have cried. In fact, since I was about 10 years old, I probably would have done a lot more than cry and the whole experience would have been a lot different. At which point I must say, yes the kid did silly things in those Home Alone movies, but he was actually a really lovely person to talk to. And his parents. And one of his brothers, I don’t actually know which one.

Anyway, the point is, I tend to cry whenever I get to see something live that I never thought I’d ever see. Now that, ladies and gents, is appreciation.

Now, our other review.

The Brightest Star in the Sky

This is Marian Keyes latest novel.

What’s it about?

At 66, Star Street in Dublin, someone is watching over the lives of the people living in its flats. But no one is aware of it – yet… One of them is ready to take the plunge and fall in love; another is torn between two very different lovers. For some, secrets they want to stay buried will come to light and for others, the unveiling of those secrets will have tragic consequences. Fate is on its way to Star Street, bringing with it love and tragedy, friendship and heartbreak, and the power to change their lives in the most unexpected of ways…

It’s not quite her usual fare. In fact, it feels like she’s feeling the pressure of all this interest in paranormal romance and what not and tried to include a bit of it in her writing. Unfortunately, it doesn’t quite work.

Her earlier books all had me sitting HAVING to finish them in one sitting. I HAD to know what happened next. Sometimes, I laughed so much that I had to take a moment to compose myself.

This one however, doesn’t have quite the same draw. I mean, it’s not so bad that you’d just put it down and not finish it. It holds your interest enough to ensure that you want to get to the end, but it’s fairly predictable at times and there wasn’t actually any moment where I laughed out loud. It isn’t exactly that type of book. There are a few issues dealt with here that you can’t really joke about. They’re a bit sensative. I mean, I joke about them, but normal people don’t.

Another problem is that some people find this particular brand of storytelling confusing. You see, the book starts off on Day 66…or Day 61, I can’t quite remember…and then moves onto Day 65 (or Day 60). This made some people think that they were reading the book in reverse, i.e. time was going backwards. Of course, if they didn’t realise this wasn’t the case by chapter 3, then they’re bleeding morons, but whatever, we’ll just say the countdown can confuse some people.

Then there are the characters. Because there are so many, you’re chopping and changing between them with quite a bit of regularity and at times it was really hard to connect with some of them, a problem I’ve never really faced before with Marian’s books.

The message in the book though, well, that’s a very good, life affirming one. That’s what I love most about her books. You always walk away feeling better about life despite the bad/terrible/devestating things that can happen.

So to give it an actual rating, hmm…I’d say about a 5/10. It’s not bad, but it’s not brilliant either. It’s…average. *shrug*

And with that, have a happy happy weekend and all that jazz.

I suppose this is what I should expect in a week filled with watching Lord of the Rings and the anticipation of a weekend filled with cars.

No not MPH. I went to that last year remember? This year I decided  to give it a skip. (read: didn’t have a choice in the matter) Actually, the car filled weekend is only next week. It’s the classic car thing down at Killarney and my dad has decided to get over the embarassment we caused him last time and invite us again (read: he needs someone to drive him). Of course, I must clarify, it wasn’t me who caused any embarassment. It was in fact the Boyf. Apparently he never realised how boring it could be to sit there all day. Silly rabbit. I’m quite keen for it though actually, whilst I don’t enjoy the pangs of jealousy that I get from looking at the cars, they are still beautiful machines.

Anyway, where was I. Ah yes. So, cars and a Ghost King. That, my dear friends, is what my dream was centered around early this morning. I can’t remember specifics but basically it was a case of me being at some kind of car show (which later morphed into a school with annoying children). At some point,  I was talking to a dude I had grown up with (and haven’t seen in about 15 years) when someone clad in armour comes up to him and explains his destiny and gives him a sword. Once he takes the sword, he morphs into, well, a ghost king (obviously at this point) and clambers up on an elephant and buggers off to do some killing…and for some unbelievable reason, I decided to do dishes in a field. Unfortunately, I can’t tell you anything more because that’s when the Boyf woke me up to say goodbye this morning and try as I might, I couldn’t fall asleep again to slip back into it.

It was something like this. But more attractive.

The most awesome part about dreams like these is that my brain is in full on director mode and insists on epic music, proper editing and full on camerawork – all with special effects included.So really, it was a quite dull and arb concept turned into an epic.

Thank god no one decided to sing and make it a musical. If I had stayed asleep for the dish washing I’m sure it would have occurred though so maybe it’s a good thing I was woken up.

However my dear friends, that is merely a sideshow distraction. Today officially marks the one week point until I see the fantastic Eddie Izzard live and in colour. You really have no idea how exciting this is for me. I absolutely adore the strange little man. If I had aspirations to be a comedien (and I wasn’t as funny as a week old biscuit that has been left in the sun), he would be my idol. Although, I do wish I looked as good in leather pants and heels as he does. It’s just not fair that he has such attractive legs.

In other news…

• I’ve culled my FaceBook friends list a little. If you spout religious bullshit all day or are phenomenally homophobic, don’t be surprised that you’re no longer there. I just really don’t want to waste time even skimming over what you have to say, let alone reading it.
• If you had to buy me the ‘Keeping up Appearances’ DVD set, I would love you forever. Unless of course you fall under the first point. Then I’ll just say thank you and tell you to bugger off.
• I don’t care if Apple are releasing a tablet. I just don’t care. Please stop telling me. It was already embarassing enough when you people went crazy over the Magic Mouse (the only thing it does that is ‘magic’ is that it can right-click from what I can determine)
• There’s a reason I didn’t RSVP at first and then later said no, I won’t be coming after you nagged me. It’s because you sent the invitation via SMS. Dude, that’s so tacky. At least do it over the phone if you aren’t going to actually send invites. SMS though? WHAT THE FUCK?
• I seriously can’t wait for my Wii to arrive. Along with the games of course.  Every day at this point is alive with the possibility of it arriving and it might be driving me slightly mad. *SQUEEEE*