This could have been the best decision of my life

Lately my writing time has been soaked up by a lot of other shi stuff in my life.  It’s not the best excuse but it’s the one I’m using.  I really wish I had more time to write because it’s the one thing that prevents me from kicking random strangers and/or colleagues. The other thing is coffee.  Lots and lots of coffee.  I’ve had more than one anxiety attack lately because my life has been hectic.  Just last week I was googling my symptoms on WebMD and I was either having a mini-stroke or just very hungry.

I have two kids.  *The crowd goes silence in suspense*  These kids are getting older by the minute.  *The audience gasps at another shocking revelation*.   They will be leaving the house soon. *Audience members are leaving as the suspense is becoming too much to bear* Continue reading

I got older without noticing it

Age is a number, they say.  Age is a mental concept, they say.  You’re only as old as you feel, they say.  Well “they” can go and f…ondle themselves on a highway.  “They” are walking around with their head up their ass because growing old is inevitable but ridiculously hard to get used to.  I’ve gained a newfound understanding for how age can creep up on you and then jump and throttle you like a facehugger.

We spend our annual holiday camping at a family resort, which is basically paying a lot of money to live like a homeless person.  I used to be very anxious and actively involved in setting up our camp site making sure everything is done in a proper way because camping becomes a lot less fun when the wind blows your tent to the next country.  The resort we stay at has people who are more than happy to set up the site for you, at a fee of course.  Being who I am, I didn’t oblige because I have slaves working for free, my two teenage kids.   Continue reading

When showing respect becomes disrespectful

There are many different ways in which society shows respect towards the elderly. I’m not referring to hiding dentures or changing the year on their calendar.  Even though it was hilarious.  I’m talking about gestures of respect that are unique to specific cultures.

Down here in Africa, Afrikaans people have been taught to address the elderly with “Oom” (male form) or “Tannie” (female form).  It’s roughly translated into “Uncle” and “Aunt”.  But it’s not only used for drunk relatives you want avoid at a family reunion. It’s also used when addressing a geriatric.

And that’s a very disrespectful, shitty gesture. Continue reading

I’ve crossed the river

So this is what it feels like to post after hours…

Music has always been a huge part of my life or more importantly our lives. Especially when you consider our glorious union is celebrating twenty years, come November.  It’s therefore kind of obvious that Dude and Princess would also turn out to be lovers of lyric and melody.

I’ve always pride myself in having an open mind.  I consider myself to be a “modern, hip, trendy” kind of dad.  The type of father who often embarrass his kids on purpose with quirky comments and the random use of the word “Dude”.  I am certainly not the type of parent who would refuse to listen to the music my kids find entertaining. I enjoy some modern bands. Some of the time.

But with the risk of being exposed to maniacs like Kanye, Miley Cyrus and Justin Bieber who are also selling records; I deserve a medal for keeping an open mind on this battlefield of popular music. Maybe even a bag of them. Continue reading

Turning Grey

I am turning grey at the speed of an eagle who suddenly lost its ability to fly, falling straight out of the sky and bouncing twice, hitting the ground.

One moment everything was fine and dandy.  The colour pigment maintaining my mouse-brown hair was happily cruising along, doing what it’s suppose to.  Then there was a sudden revolt and the pigment decided unanimously to down tools and walk out.  And it’s not like I  was treating it badly, I washed and conditioned daily.  I even rinse and repeat if the instructions are clear enough on the bottle.

Don’t feel sorry for me, I’m over it and extremely grateful that I still have a full head of hair.  My hairdresser has suggested numerous hairstyles to soften the effect i.e hide the grey, (even colouring it!!!) but it’s summer, it’s hot and I don’t want to use a hairdryer anymore.  So I went all GI Joe on my head last week.  Ok, maybe not full GI Joe, maybe more like that other guy from ER…

As a guy I actually don’t give a shit of what other people’s opinions might be about my hairstyle.  Add to that our keen sense of observation, then it might come as a surprise when I noticed some of my daughter’s friends giving me a double take yesterday.   But my fractional surprise broke into full-on amusement when I eavesdropped on this conversation last night:

Princess: Mom, the girls at school were really mean today.

Mom: Why? What did they do?

Princess: They were saying things about dad.

Mom: Really?  What did they say?

Princess: They were laughing at his grey hair.

Mom (seriously smiling): Why would they laugh at Dad’s grey hair?

Princess: They’re saying I’m the one responsible for giving it to him.

I laughed for a very long time.  So did the wife.

Bottom line I now have an excuse.  Turning grey has nothing to do with hitting the final straight in the race of reaching forty, it’s just a symptom of parenting.



Princess, if by any chance you end up reading this one day, please note it’s not you, nor is it your brother who causes my grey hair.  You two are actually my personal fountain of youth.  You guys are my magic potion and tonic for enjoying life and embracing every single second I have with you.  My grey hair was inevitable.  And sexy.  (As per mom.)

Times flies…No, it moves like a friggin bullet.

Tic-toc. Tic-toc. Two seconds gone.  Disappeared forever.  Unrecoverable.  And the older I get the shorter these seconds become.

The latest signpost on my journey, highlighting this fact, is the coming Easter weekend.  Since when do we celebrate this holiday twice in one year?  Didn’t the last Easter weekend happen like two months ago? And we had Christmas in between.  I am convinced we still have some chocolate eggs left somewhere.  Is time moving so fast, that my life only consist of holidays and birthdays now?  What’s happening?

When I was younger a summer holiday felt like it lasted forever, there were days when you didn’t know what to do.  I now understand why mom chased us outside, when we would walk into the kitchen, slump down on the table and complain: “I’m bored.”

In my annual summer break, I barely have enough time to stop thinking about work or shut down like my friend says, and then when I finally get in my zone, I have to start work again the next day!

Father Time has an obvious inferiority complex, probably because he didn’t feature in Rise of the Guardians.  So here’s what he did.  He got some steroids from Lance Armstrong, who obviously doesn’t need it anymore, and now he is pumping iron and training like shit.  I heard he chucked his sandals and stick for some Nike’s and a bike and now his gunning it!

My wife’s theory is less dramatic, but I’ll share it in any case.  She reckons it’s because people only live for weekends.  During the week we are constantly making plans and counting the hours until the next Friday.  By doing so, we actually don’t appreciate the shitty other days of the week. Like Monday or Tuesday.  Urrgh.

If you consider this theory to be true, and we only enjoy Friday, Saturday ad Sunday, people are actually only enjoying 43% of their week or worse of their entire adult life. This is really scary, and I checked the stats with a calculator.

We need to understand that time doesn’t just fly anymore, it friggin moves, like a bullet or a rocket of Flash or Superman.  Just think of the fastest thing on earth and you get the idea.

We therefore need to consume time, we need to grab it and use it for that’s the only way to keep it, even if it’s only in our memories.  We should be like children again and not allow time to pass us, because if it does, we will not catch up again.  I am convinced that the older we get the faster time moves, and therefore it should give new meaning to the phrase “Make every second count.”

By the way Happy Easter, and don’t worry if you miss my daily post next week, I’m taking a short sabbatical with the family.  The only condition is that we all have to leave our electronics at home.

Yes, feel my pain.

Good pain?

I am in physical pain.  Typing this creates involuntary eye twitches as my arms need to be picked up.  I knew this would happen, and I still did it willingly.  Idiot anyone?

I used to go to the gym everyday non-stop for the last four years.  Maybe missing a day here and there.  I would wake up @ 05h00 every weekday morning and go for my daily workout.  Weekends were created for doing nothing.  I didn’t aim to look like anyone, I just wanted to stay fit and toned, throwing some weights around.  This also prevented me from kicking the dog, screaming at the kids and killing my boss.


What the f*ck are you smiling about?

I say used to, as I have not been in the gym since last November.  I finally convinced the lazy guy in the mirror to get off his ass and dragged him out of bed the day before yesterday to start some exercise again.  Secret revealed.

I decided to list the ten things I learned this week as a warning to others who wants to (a)Stop or (b) Start exercising.

1. It hurts.  Like hell.  Not lifting weights for more than 9 weeks make your muscles forget why they are attached to your bones in the first place.  My body savoured the beer and sugar it was getting and now my muscles are screaming and cursing for what I  am putting them through.  They are acting out and refuse spitefully to co-operate with me, even if I want to, let’s say, pick up a pencil or walk.

2. Everyday new muscles and body parts will join the revolution that is now rampant in my body.

3. You lose strength.  Don’t get me wrong, I never aimed to be an Arnold, but I took pride in my ability to bench press a weight close to my own bodyweight.  This week I was less than succesful.  I think I might have bench pressed the bodyweight of an 8 year-old.  It might be due to my age, but I prefer to blame it on my long absence.

4. People will assume you have died if they see you every day and then suddenly not at all for three months.  It is probably due to the fact that there are only about twenty people alive at that time of the morning.

5. It still sucks to wake up when half the world are still asleep.  The half of my world being my wife and kids.  You ask yourself why you do it, while doing it.

6. Keeping your stomach contracted, to avoid showing the extra calories that you have been storing over christmas, can only be done for about 3 minutes max.  Then you pass out.

7. The crazed bodybuilders still focus on their own form in the mirror, dressed in their brightly coloured vests.  They avoid any human contact until they finished their bicep curl with a load “Uuuurgggh” and dropping the weight with a load “clunk”.  I call it the soundtrack for duechebags.

8. Crazy humans that wake up early to do any form of exercise (running, cycling or going to gym) are still a minority.  We should be thankful.  There are some concerns as this disease does spread during summer but the virus causing the urge to exercises dies in winter.

9. Some people still cannot drive at that time of the morning, even if there’s basically no vehicles on the road.

10. Runners still think that they can play chicken with most cars, so they will occupy most of the road.  I still think petrol is not that expensive, why run?

11. Did I mentioned that it hurts? Like hell?  Where is the friggin’ truck that reversed over me, twice?

Someone said to me this morning, “It’s a good pain, it means my muscles are working again”.  Yeah right, who asked you, shithead?  You’re not the one who has to slither down the stairs and crawl to your car.  The moral of my story is:  “Never stop once you start.”

Yes, that is old.

I’m turning 40 in a few months.

Yes, I know you are only as old as you feel, but the numbers is still a bit intimidating.  When I was in my twenties I used to think that when you reach 40 it is the end of your life and you will just have to sit and wait for the Grim reaper to knock on your door.  (No, I don’t feel like that anymore.)

I remember as a kid drawing pictures of my grandparents.  Grandpa was normally a stick figure with a pipe and grandma was a stick figure with her hair up and some needlework drawn over the hand area.

When my kids draw their grandparents it is basically just a larger male or female figure.  And it is not because they are that young, it is just because kids have a different perception of grandparents.  They don’t live on a farm or in an old age home, they are still productive, active members of the community.  Besides I know a few grandmothers that can still give some youngsters a run for their money on the hotness scale.

My kid once drew the whole family and I made the mistake of asking “Is that me?” , pointing to a larger male figure.  “No,” he said “it is grandpa.”  In my defence, there was no way to tell.  There were just two larger male figures resembling me and my dad.  I think it is proof enough that 40 is the new 30 and 50 is the new 40 and so and so on.

A few years ago a 6 year-old kid in my wife’s class redefined age for us.  Like every Monday morning she would give the class some time to reflect on their weekend.  Telling the rest of the children of things that happened at home etc.  So this one girl, looking very distraught, said to the class:

“My dog is very old.”

“How old is he,” asked my wife in her loving, concerned teacher’s voice.

“Well, he is so old, he does not even lay eggs anymore.”

True story.  So when you stop laying eggs, then you know.  I have been trying forever…