I was in Dubai two weeks ago, attending a conference. For those of you who are geographically challenged, Dubai is a bright lights, big city in the desert. For those of you who are climatically challenged, September is the start of autumn for the residents of this massive outdoor sauna and the change of season means they change their description of the heat from “hof AF” to “hot as hell”. The problem is that Dubai is on the coast, so for non-residents the heat remains best described as “hot AF.” The humidity is a killer.
I almost died, every time I had to walk from the hotel lobby to the conference facility. One would think that a conference facility would be inside the hotel but no. One had to go outside and walk like 50 meters or so. And I’m not exaggerating about evading the sickle of the Grim Reaper because attending a conference in Dubai implies having to wear a suit. It seems that businessmen over there like to dress up for death. Continue reading
I don’t know what’s up with our office kitchen but if the fridge is not a gestation chamber for toxic waste, then the teaspoons are eloping.
We are constantly having to stock up on teaspoons. Like doughnuts at a police convention. A lady in the office even started marking them with nail polish because that is what some women do when they want to secure their possessions from theft. I’m not sure how it prevents the theft from actually taking place but who am I to judge what goes on in the mind of the female gender. It’s not like the nail polish is radioactive and can induce a coma on contact, it’s just red nail polish. Or maybe it’s rose pink. Or it may even be dark coral. No, I think it’s magenta. Or you know what, it fuchsia, it’s definitely fuchsia. Or… Just. Let. It. Go. Continue reading
If you’re stuck working with people in the same office building and the company who you work for does not provide you with a cafeteria, where a person can escape the daily grind and have a freshly prepared lunch, then this post is for you. To the rest of you spoiled brats, go ahead and mock us, the disadvantaged individuals.
We are condemned to a reality of having to pack our lunch. To pre-prepare whatever we want to feed our face with, and bring it along to our place of torture. To satisfy the need to eat with hurried scraps because of the time restriction in the morning, due to you having to dress, shave and dump the used food you ate yesterday. Not to mention the stuff you have to do to the kids to get them to school on time. Wife has given up on packing my lunch because I am, in her words, “full of shit.”
This post is teetering in the wrong direction. Continue reading
A foot selfie
The list is in chronological order.
1. There are no queens walking the streets of Queens. At least not at seven in the morning.
2. A day in New York can become excrutiatingly long if your shadow is the only companion you have. *insert gesture of sympathy*
3. Some lawns in public parks can be closed by placing a simple little sign which everyone obeys. Amazing.
4. Don’t attempt converting dollars to your local currency when ordering steak. Or beer. You’ll end up only having one and require a second bond on your house to pay the bill. Continue reading
And now you may thank me for having the Will Smith song stuck in your head.
This is not a mere coincidence. I’m actually going. For real ya’all. I’m boarding a plane to cross the Atlantic, for the umpteenth time, and
dropping down landing safely in the poster-city of all things American Summer. Even though it seems most of the people over there don’t speak English. Or American for that matter. I’m travelling for (and not in) business, but I do intend to sneak away and stick my weird looking toes in the sand of South beach. I don’t know anything about Miami other than what I’ve seen in movies or in rap music video’s. Based on this limited, one-sided portrayal of the city, you may rest assure that there are certain things I will NOT do whilst exposing myself. To the sights and sounds of Miami. Continue reading
This seems a little more dramatic than it needs to be, as I was in Sao Paulo for one night only. And that is not a sold out Broadway show. Not yet anyhow. It’s just me being wisk away across the Atlantic in a metal tube for one meeting and then flying back the next day.
But like anything in life there is always lessons to be learned. Here goes.
- Your passport will be checked at least three times from the time you disembark up to an excluding customs. Maybe it’s my face.
- No-one checked my yellow fever certificate which means my emcounter with a HUGE needle, in a smellly clinic, was all for nothing.
- Traffic is horrendous. People walk around with carts selling snacks, thus providing additonal things motorists have to avoid on a never moving freeway.
- Woman do not strut their stuff in g-strings like they do in all the travel brochures of Brazil. They do drive taxis though. But fully clothed.
- Public urination is frowned upon even though the canal smells like a urinal during the October fest. A cop will verbalise his disgust in Portuguese even if you have a medical condition and would die if you hold it for another second.
- People consume so much meat that if you dare to witness a full sitting, you are definately going to end up with a gout attack or something worse. It has to be a vegetarian’s worst nightmare.
- Some areas of the city has a putrid smell that can only be described as the underarm pit of a hoarder-cat-lady who belongs to a cult that considers personal hygiene a cardinal sin.
- Caparinho is a lemon-vodka based drink so sweet, it strips the fluoride from your teeth whilst attempting to finish it. It contains approximately 1,634,298 calories. Per sip.
- It takes a taxi one hour and forty five minutes to get from the hotel to the airport at the speed of a dying snail. I already mentioned the traffic didn’t I?
- And that’s all folks, it was a quick visit.
Don’t complete that heading just yet…Wait for it…
Here are ten things you may or may not know about yours truly:
- I’m 42 years young. (And look as ravishing as ever.)
- I’m married to a spectacular Wife. (Who happens to be superhuman.)
- I have two teenage kids. (Who only becomes irrational when I use the word “No”.)
- I am employed. (Steak and wine doesn’t come cheap.)
- I train on weekdays. (What else would I do at 05h00 in the morning?)
- I have friends. (And not just Facebook ones.)
- All four of my parents are still alive. (And they thrive on love and attention.)
- I blog. (If one considers blogging to be posting the randomness that is my life.)
- I sleep at night. (As there is no time for that shit during the day.)
- I’ve decided to enroll for an M B A. Post graduate. I started on Monday.
And that would probably make me a good candidate for a mental institution. My life is clearly not complicated enough. What was I thinking? I must be a humongous sucker for punishment. OR maybe it’s just a subtle cry for help…
Whatever the reason, it’s just Me Being A…
Yes, I’ve been busy. Getting back to business in another foreign country.
Disembarking in Istanbul, the only thing resembling a Turkey was the fat, bearded policeman who took my passport. The one who escorted me to a little room where he put on a pair of rubber gloves and made me very nervous. My heart raced. And not in a good way. I haven’t gone for a prostate exam so I wasn’t comfortable with a full body search. He also asked me if I was carrying dollars, which seems to be the universal currency for a bribe. Unfortunately I didn’t have any on me. I was finally let go, after he fumbled my neatly folded clothes into one big mess. I didn’t complain. Turns out I was the random spot check of the day. He wasn’t corrupt after all…
It’s obvious that I have the face of an international fugitive or a drug lord. Or both. Maybe I should get rid of my goatee. Continue reading
Being alone is never as painful as when you have to dine on your own but men are men and men must eat. Steak. And I am not suicidal, so I refuse to have dinner in my hotel room. There is something fundamentally wrong about a person sitting down to have dinner by his lonesome self. It must have been how leppers felt in biblical times. Outcasts, sitting on a dump, scratching their open, puss-filled wounds. Shit, that is disgusting and do you mind, I’m trying to eat over here…As a business traveller I am quite accustomed to this form of social torture and more so because I never dine alone. I always have company.
Let’s call her Hilda. Continue reading
Stupidity is a human condition. A rampant desease that infects people like a zombie virus. No-one is safe. Sometimes it’s only a momentary lapse of reason but there have been reports of severe cases where complete idiots are running around sharing their germs with the rest of us on a full time basis. And just like a zombie virus we run the risk of these infected ones spreading irrational thoughts and actions to the point of causing an apocalypse of intelligence on the planet. We constantly need to stomp out these dim-witted individuals. How about a register?
I receiced a call from our security company a few weeks ago about a parcel that is to be delivered to our plant. Nothing strange except for the fact that I am never called about deliveries. Continue reading