Braces off


You should thank me for NOT posting some of the other images one gets when Googling “crooked teeth”.  Image courtesy of

As parents we are very much aware of events in the lives of our children, especially when it comes to signs of them growing up.

We celebrate their first tooth, their first word and their first step.  We celebrate their first successful poop in a potty.  And then commence to change a thousand soiled underpants thereafter.  We celebrate their first day of kindergarten with tears of joy and their last day of high school with unattractive sobbing. Continue reading

Dude is funny

One of my life goals have been achieved.  I have kept my training regime long enough to allow Dude to catch up and reach the age where he can finally join me in my daily trips to the gym without making it seem like child abuse.  The one thing I didn’t expect was to age at least ten years as soon as I walked in with a teenager by my side.  I wanted to introduce Dude as a friend of mine but friends don’t call friends “Dad”.  At least not in the circles I move in.  He blew my cover in the first few seconds.  I suppose I should feel flattered that people were surprised to learn of my fifteen year-old son.  Or maybe I should be insulted?  The jury is still out on that one.

I cherish and savor these moments of alone time with him more than he would ever know.  Now I’m gonna man up, grow a pair and drop all this sentimental shenanigans… Continue reading

Writing 101 – Day 4: Serially lost (Things we lost growing up #1)

I’m turning serial and it’s going to be a threesome.  I have no choice in the matter.  It was a commitment I made, a voluntary effort and I need to push through.

Write about a loss: something (or someone) that was part of your life, and isn’t any more.  Make today’s post the first in a three-post series…

It is the latest assignment of the Writing 101 thing-a-ma-chig I signed up for on WordPress so everyone can relax.  I’m not about to start swinging a chainsaw severing limbs.  I’ve hidden all my power tools and the big knifes are back in the drawer where they belong.  I have kept the gloves, overall and a roll of plastic covering, just in case.  You never know when it might come in handy.


Have you ever sat and watched kids play?  Have you seen how carefree they are?  Have you observed how they thrive in an imaginary world, where people fly and ceramic animals talk to each other.  Where a bedroom can be a mall or a classroom or a doctor’s office.  A world where anything is possible. Continue reading

Dating guide for Dude(s)

I compiled one for Princess, it only seems fair I do the same for Dude.

Lust is in the air.

Lust is in the air.

He’s getting older, which explains why he suddenly becomes aware of hot girls, dreams about his first kiss and smiles every time he hears the word “boobs”. Technically it’s more than a smile; it’s the same look I get when someone mentions red wine and spaghetti bolognaise.

It’s common knowledge that teenage boys are a bit strange as they have all that testosterone raging through their bodies, giving them wide shoulders, hair in weird places and turns their voices into squeaky toys.  Unfortunately the hormone also prohibits them from making proper choices when it comes to members of the opposite sex. Continue reading

Show me the funny, fool!

I laugh easily.  I crack up like it’s nobody’s business.  Exposing my insides like a slasher-movie-victim.  I have laughed my ass off so many times, it remains a wonder that I actually have something to sit on.

I know I am any stand-up comedian’s wet dream; for you have to be REALLY AWFUL not to get at least a sniggle out of me. I’m the insane, weird guy on the plane who snorts his drink, hysterically laughing away, whilst watching Titanic.

I love to laugh and as a result, consider comedians/comic writers and other funny people as the geniuses of our modern society.  I’ve known for a long time that when I grow up I would like to be funny too.

Continue reading

The homicide of reading


Blood is on the wall in libraries around the world
(Photo courtesy of

Are you serious?  WTF?  Questions I tend to agree with.  Writing this post as a lover of comic books seems hypocritical.  For a person who gets slightly too excited about a great movie, pinning these comments, seems a bit odd.  But as a passionate lover of photography this topic is downright insane.  Good morning people, I am Dr Jeckyl, I will now introduce you to  Mr Hyde.

WordPress tracks every like per post.  Calm down, I know there’s a few of you reading this thinking, “No shit Sherlock.” I’m trying to make a point.  Yesterday I realised that of my ten most liked posts, seven of them are photos.  I went into a slight sate of panic.  In those frightening moments several thoughts raced through my mind.  (1) My writing is terrible and people feel sorry for me therefore they just like my photos.  Like the proverbial pat on the back. (2) My stories are too long and boring and that is why the wife sometimes fall asleep when I talk. (3) My own conceived sense of humour doesn’t actually exist, thus turning my dreams of doing stand-up into dust.

Yes, I do feel slightly melodramatic this morning, like a drag queen without a wig.  I want to piss and whine so that by the end of this post I will feel better.  After taking my S&M whip out of the closet and beating myself with it, it dawned on me…

It might not be my writing… I said, might not…

When followers/bloggers/readers/stalkers see photo posts in the reading panel they don’t have to do much.  Basically it boils down to looking at the picture, deciding if they like it, and if they do, (which still sort of amazes me), they click the like button.  Yeah!

Written posts are slightly more complicated.  Not brain surgery, or flying a Boeing, but just a tad more involved.  They see the heading, then they read the first paragraph, if it intrigues them, they look at their watch and decide whether continuing would be worthy of their time.  If by the grace of God they finish the story and they like it, then BAM, they press like and I orgasm immediately.

For the photies out there, if takes a lot of hours to write that frigging opening paragraph.  Selecting words, that not only capture the essence of the story, but crafting the bait as expertly as we can, hoping that it might catch the eye of one or two of the million readers browsing daily.  We create these dreaded opening paragraphs using our own tools, like photographers would use rules of third, composition, lighting and focus.  Hoping that the choices we make would raise the interest level so that someone might actually finish reading the story.  And don’t get me started on the title.  Fuck.  I have spend hours, days, months contemplating titles.

In the end I don’t blame the bloggers, I blame pictures for the homicidal attack on reading.  Modern man (and woman) has become so accustomed to a microwave way of life.  Everything is about speed and convenience, like lasagne, chicken soup, noodles, fast cars, e-mail and movies.  How many of us have appreciated the finer nuances of novels like Hunger Games or the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo before seeing the movies?  Do we realise that our imagination is a way better director than any previous Oscar winner?

I love taking pictures, and I know a good one is worth a thousand words, but it’s damn hard to relay a story in a way that would spark the interest of people.  It takes time, time and time.  Knowing this, as an avid reader, aspiring writer and photographer wannabe, I am slightly schizophrenic.

I do appreciate every like I ever got on my blog and me loving the followers; goes without saying, but you see, rambling in writing makes me feel better.

And you know what, if people like my photo’s more than my writing, I am down with that.  Besides, my son and a few other faithful ones likes them stories. Life’s good.