I’ve posted this before but there might be an odd chance that the Wife missed it. Here is the short, personalized version without a back story. The opening game is tonight and I’m running out of time. Let’s do this!
For the love of my life:
- Leave the remote in clear line of view. Do NOT move the remote from it’s regular storage space. If you suffer from a brief spout of insanity and decide to move it, you will hear deafening screams and an occasional f-bomb when I frantically look for it. It’s also your duty as a mother to protect Princess by warning her to leave the remote alone. Dude knows.
- If there is even a remote chance that you would actually be handling the remote, do NOT change the channel. Ever. If doesn’t matter how sick you are of seeing thirty grown men chasing an egg shaped ball. Do NOT change the channel!
- Do NOT ask for permission to watch Binnelanders during games. At best you will be ignored, at worst, well, I cannot be held accountable for my actions during this tournament. Don’t we own another television?
- Do NOT ask any questions about the shirt I’m wearing. It IS the same one. If my dirty shirt bugs you, then it should be washed when I sleep and ready to wear before I wake up. Unless I’m planning to sleep with it, as would be the case if the Boks are winning.
- Do NOT comment on the consumption of beer. It’s going to happen, copiously.
- Do NOT comment on the amount of friends running through the house. You might not care for the smell of testosterone, biltong, beer and the constant shouting but there are some great air-fresheners on the market nowadays.
- Do NOT comment on the fact that I might be watching a replay of a game and for the love of god do NOT take the side of the referee during said replay, unless off course I consider the referee to be the best human being on the planet. Besides you off course.
- Do NOT expect my normal level of attention. Well, maybe just a quickie, after the game, if our team won. But then I won’t be taking off my Springbok shirt. Don’t worry I’m planning to buy you flowers before the first game. Hopefully they would last for the full tournament.
- Do NOT ask any questions about the rules of the game. You will only get grunts. Unless it’s interpreted incorrectly by the idiot referee in which case everyone watching will have an opinion on how the rule should be interpreted. My advise would be to sit back and learn.
- Do NOT expect any help or assistance whilst a game is on. This includes, but are not limited to our house being on fire, you going into labor, the dog dying or one of our kids falling down the stairs. You are a strong, independent, gorgeous woman whom I know will be able to handle all of life’s little mishaps on your own. After you bring me a beer.
Let’s back the Boks!! Go South Africa, bring it home!!
Remember love, these are the times when we should remember our wedding vows, love you!!
Hey Dude, listen up. Your father is about to bestow some wisdom onto you. This is important information that men have shared through generations, even before the time when dragons flew across the sky and Cersei Lannister was a bitch. In an ancient time before PlayStation 4 was distracting boys from their real purpose in life, which is to find a nice, decent, preferably rich, mother for my grandchildren. Leave that remote, as I’m only going to say this once, then I’ll write it down so you can read it as often as you like.
Men are simple creatures and I know this first hand. Evolution hasn’t made significant changes to the male version of Homo Sapiens, mainly because we were perfect to begin with. Continue reading
This much I know… I am forty-one years young. I have an amazing wife. I am a semi-successful father of two teenagers, Dude and Princess. And I have traveled to 34 countries over the course of nine years.
Moral of the story? I’ve seen some shit. Or two. Maybe even heaps.
In most of the countries I visit, one will find a stall/shop/vendor who sells T-shirts. A genius who copied the clever idea of putting catchy phrases on cheap Chinese manufactured shirts and selling them at the price of a small car. And we buy it and we wear it with pride, for nothing is as funny as a funny t-shirt. I’ve had my share of waiting for stuff to happen and in those voids of nothing happening I’ve come up with a few slogans that might work on a shirt. Things I want people to know without having to say it to their face. Because sometimes I just want to be left alone. Besides I have a million things to share. Continue reading
I normally don’t react to daily WordPress prompts when it
clutters fills my mailbox. Most of them slip through the cracks but there are some….Like when the prompt is All about me. I’m way too narcissistic and self-centered to ignore this one. It wants you to Explain why you chose your blog’s title and what it means to you. Which is exactly what I’m NOT going to do. For I actually have a page that explains Why I Blog, aptly called All about me, but I had it first.
I figured it was high time to introduce the person behind Ah Dad… Let’s start from the top with a family-selfie aka A FALFIE
I’m the fly.
During the past weekend we were fortunate to visit one of the best places on earth, commonly known as Durban. Or like South Africans like to call it, Durbs. We’re lazy buggers and drop vowels frequently.
Princess took part in provincial trials for track and field, or in her case more field than track. She had to compete in two events: High jump and shot put. The first one makes sense to me as she was blessed with her father’s
good looks height. But who knew she also had a knack for throwing a ball made of stone. Viking much? It’s all very confusing. I’m blaming estrogen. Continue reading
They were sitting in a light blue Nissan sedan, that had a rope tied to the boot, preventing it from opening erratically, whilst driving. He was twitching, a little more than usual and clearing his throat, somewhat unnaturally. The nervous tension was as tangible as the bunch of red roses she was holding. A minute passed and it was clear that he had a heavy heart as his voice trembled when he finally spoke.
“I know we’ve only met two weeks ago and you don’t really know me yet. But I was thinking that we might as well get to know one other as a couple, you know, like if we started dating exclusively? What do you think?” Continue reading
It’s awkward and it’s noisy.
He builds a flimsy nest from sticks, disillusioned in thinking his bachelor pad is a penthouse just because it’s high up in a tree. Then he goes to the bar, where he struts around with puffed neck feathers, overselling his shithouse, trying to impress the ladies. Most pigeon girls have very low expectations and settle for brawn and bravado. Going home together is a concluded marriage proposal. The couple is surprisingly happy, but in their defence, the choices are limited and standards low. It’s a redneck society of happy hillbillies.
There comes a time when his urge to pro-create sort of aligns with her wanting some of them babies. As all men know, that alignment doesn’t necessarily have to be a total eclipse, for the urge, unlike the moon, is always full. Continue reading
The rumours are true.
I’ve won the Superbru world cup challenge of our office and I’ve walked away with the cash. What’s really frustrating to my collegues is that I did NOT watch a single game of the whole extravaganza in Brazil. Unless you count the final, when I saw Germany receive bragging rights for the next four years. For football? Moving on.
I have to explain myself. I don’t like soccer. Or even football. Twenty guys running around for a VERY long time, kicking a ball, trying to get it past some guy with gloves guarding the goal? And then to only win by a measly one point! That’s beyond frustration. Maybe they should remove the goal keeper to facilitate bigger scores and higher entertainment value. I’m with William Web Ellis, who after catching a football in his hands, decided to run with it. And henceforth created rugby. I’m still confused why any able bodied person would want to compete in a sport where you’re not allowed to use your hands, unless that sport is featured in the paralympic games.
My rant is not about soccer. Continue reading
They stood in the doorway, two cats caught in a rain storm. Emotionally drenched and sad, looking dreadful and borderline pathetic.
“Something happened.” They said together, almost rehearsed.
And I knew. Like all men would. An instinctive notion, like having to pee or being hungry. It’s not so much understanding why you know, it’s just accepting the fact that you do. Another basic instinct that’s been protecting humans since the days when we still resembled apes and were covering our private parts with fur.
The “something happened” implied damage to the car. Continue reading