Monday, September 27, 2010

New Shoes - Paolo Nutini


Woke up cold one tuesday,I'm looking tired and feeling quite sick,I felt like there was something missing in my day to day life,So I quickly opened the wardrobe,Pulled out some jeans and a T-Shirt that seemed clean,Topped it off with a pair of old shoes,That were ripped around the seams,And I thought these shoes just don't suit me.


Hey, I put some new shoes on,And suddenly everything is right,I said, hey, I put some new shoes on and everybody's smiling,It so inviting,Oh, short on money,But long on time,Slowly strolling in the sweet sunshine,And I'm running late,And I dont need an excuse,'cause I'm wearing my brand
new shoes.

Woke up late one thursday,And I'm seeing stars as I'm rubbing my eyes,And I felt like there were two days missing,As I focused all the time,And I made my way to the kitchen,But I had to stop from the shock of what I found,A room full of all my friends dancing round and round,And I thought hello new shoes,Byebye them blues.

Take me wondering through these streets,Where bright lights and angels meet,
Stone to stone they take me on,I'm walking to the break of dawn.

Monday, August 16, 2010

*Tick*Tick*Tick* .... BANG!!!


We read articles, self help books, watch Sex and the City and listen to advice about relationships from friends and those more experienced than ourselves. We lay awake at night rethinking text messages, tone of voice in phone calls, dinner plans and card greetings.

We stand in the super market for ages wondering what to get for dinner, which wine he will like and what dessert will induce sex. We spend our time with our new partners deciphering body language, getting to know their characteristic traits and looks and drive ourselves mad during kissing sessions of what may be going through his mind, if your breath stinks, if you should have applied lip balm before starting. We drive ourselves to distraction!

Why? Why do we go on and on about things in our minds? Why is this constant drive to be completely perfect plaguing our quality of relationships and is this the main cause for failure of gay relationships? Are we so worried of not living up to our dating/Facebook profiles of the extremist perfect branding of ourselves that it could destroy our quality of life?

It has recently been told to me that I am mad. I know I am eccentric, I like being eccentric, but I realized that I am somewhat inconsistent in love and life. Is it due to age? Lack of experience? Or what I have stated above?

Does knowing more about our lovers make it more difficult for us to make informed and decisive decisions when it comes to our relationships? Are we so completely obsessed to have the perfect lover, life, car, job, wardrobe, sporting ability, and body that it consumes all the little pleasures that we do not allow ourselves to enjoy. Life doesn’t carry on forever and neither does your teenage hairline.

Is the DINK (Double income no kids) lifestyle aging us at the same rate 2 screaming brats and a bond would? The cover model/Conde Nast lifestyle doesn’t seem to be for the faint hearted and more importantly is our “switched on-ness” going to switch us off eventually?

Do we wake up in our mid thirties, walk to the bathroom scratching our flannel wedgy, get to the mirror – La Mer EyeCreme wand in hand – and let out a blood curdling scream when we see our reflections? When do we not realize that we need to stop and smell the roses along the way?
Thankfully I am now with someone that forces me to see the everyday. Not the weekend, or next month or the 5 year plan and as the epitome of the W.A.S.P it is taking time for me to slow myself down.

The question is, how do we change our natures to be kinder to ourselves in the long run? That’s right… another thing to worry about!

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Prep Tastic




Herewith some rules of dress for my fellow preppiens!




We wear sportswear. This makes it easier to go from sporting events to social events (not that there is much difference) without changing.



We generally underdress. We prefer it to overdressing.



Your underwear must not show. Wear a nude-colored strapless bra. Pull up your pants. Wear a belt. Do something. Use a tie!



We do not display our wit through T-shirt slogans.



Every single one of us—no matter the age or gender or sexual preference—owns a blue blazer.



We take care of our clothes, but we're not obsessive. A tiny hole in a sweater, a teensy stain on the knee of our trousers, doesn't throw us.



We do, however, wear a lot of white in the summer, and it must be spotless.


Bags and shoes need not match.



Jewelry should not match, though metals should.
On the other hand, your watch doesn't have to be the same metal as your jewelry.
And you can wear gold with a platinum wedding band and/or engagement ring.



Men's jewelry should be restricted to a handsome watch, a wedding band if he is American and married, and nothing else. If he has a family-crest ring, it may be worn as well. For black-tie, of course, shirt studs and matching cuff links are de rigueur.



Nose rings are never preppy.



Neither (shudder) are belly-button piercings.



Nor are (two shudders) tongue studs.



And that goes for ankle bracelets.



Tattoos: Men who have been in a war have them, and that's one thing. (Gang wars don't count.) Anyone else looks like she is trying hard to be cool. Since the body ages, if you must tattoo, find a spot that won't stretch too much. One day you will want to wear a halter-necked backless gown. Will you want everyone at the party to know you once loved a man called Bo?



Sneakers (a.k.a. tennis shoes, running shoes, trainers) are not worn with skirts.



Men may wear sneakers with linen or cotton trousers to casual summer parties.



Women over the age of 15 may wear a simple black dress. Women over the age of 21 must have several in rotation.



High-heel rule: You must be able to run in them—on cobblestones, on a dock, in case of a spontaneous foot race.



Clothes can cost any amount, but they must fit. Many a preppy has an item from a vintage shop or a lost-and-found bin at the club that was tailored and looks incredibly chic.



Do not fret if cashmere is too pricey. Preppies love cotton and merino-wool sweaters.



We do not wear our cell phones or BlackBerrys suspended from our belts.



Real suspenders are attached with buttons. We do not wear the clip versions.



Learn how to tie your bow tie. Do not invest in clip-ons.



Preppies are considerate about dressing our age. It is for you, not for us.



Men, if you made the mistake of buying leather sandals, please give them to Goodwill.



You may, however, wear flip-flops to the beach if your toes are presentable. Be vigilant!



Pareos (sarongs) are for the beach, not for the mall. (Even if it's near the beach.)



Riding boots may be worn by non-riders; cowboy boots may be worn by those who have never been on a horse. However, cowboy hats may not be worn by anyone who isn't technically a cowboy or a cowgirl.



You may wear a Harvard sweatshirt if: you attended Harvard, your spouse attended Harvard, or your children attend Harvard. Otherwise, you are inviting an uncomfortable question.



No man bags.



Preppies don't perm their hair.



Preppy men do not believe that comb-overs disguise anything.



You can never go wrong with a trench coat.



Sweat suits are for sweating. You can try to get away with wearing sweats to carpool, to pick up the newspaper, or to drive to the dump, but last time you were at the dump, the drop-dead-attractive widower from Bishopscourt was there, too.



And finally:



The best fashion statement is no fashion statement.




Friday, June 25, 2010

Sexy Is...


Sexy is.... Laugh lines, freckles, chest hair and waking up next to someone you love for the first time.


Sexy is... Making out to your favourite song, having your clothes slowly removed from your body...


Sexy is... Blushing, feeling awkward, looking into his eyes and not being able to say anything...


Sexy is... Real unwashed, unironed life with a decent splash of flirtatious behaviour!


Sexy is... 2 bodies sweating in the heat and cuddling in the cold... It is feeling every texture, absorbing sounds, smells and love.


Sexy is... The weakening of your knees and the blush of your ears when he makes you laugh!


Sexy is... The tensing of muscles at a single touch and the arching of a back...


Sexy drives us, it kills us, it makes us cry but want more...


Sexy keeps us on the brink of insanity but emotionally well rounded...


Sexy just is...

Friday, June 18, 2010

My World Cup Hemorrhoid…


Now before everyone heads off on their “You are so unpatriotic” tangent, followed by the “what this country has been through to get here today” rant, I would like to tell you to shut the f&%$ up!!


So, we are in Africa… Right at the bottom of it as a reminder. We won a bid to host a World Cup Event for Soccer… and NOW everyone seems greatly interested in how our country compares to some eastern European shitholes with unpronounceable names. Every person with a car bitched and moaned about roadworks, delays in upgrades, Gautrain construction and taking two hours to travel 10km’s to work. You said that we would never have the chance of winning or even getting into a semi final. You complained about the air ticket price hikes, the influx of people that would render it useless to travel anywhere for almost two months unless you won the lottery and finally you spent an hour on the phone to your girlfriend because you didn’t know WHAT you were actually going to do with your children while they were on a month’s holiday… god forbid actually speak to them!


And now? NOW you sit there, covered in face paint and an ill fitting R600 National Team jersey blowing at the end of a plastic vuvuzela like a deranged idiot and you have the audacity to tell me that I have no sense of Morale or Camaraderie...


The point is… I AM NOT INTERESTED IN SOCCER! Therefore I see no need to dress like a fool and support that team that you destined for failure two years ago. I live in South Africa, I am as happy as anyone else to be here. I have no hopes of packing my bags and “fleeing” to Perth like a million other people did post ’94 election results. So LEAVE ME ALONE!

That is all.

Monday, June 14, 2010

The Last Straight (Acting) Man…



When in conversation with my devastatingly attractive fellow friends that have also struggled to find the right man for ages, a common denominator has always come to the fore… A STRAIGHT ACTING MAN!


While the bunch in my friendship circle are not exactly the biggest most strapping bunch of burley men… we do know how to please the mentioned and be VERY good arm candy! This being said… we have now all adopted the “old enough for marriage” attitude and have been scowering the corners of the dregs of gay society for the possibility of the urban legend – “the last straight acting man”.


A said friend in complete desperation and the hope of finding a Gerald Butler look alike that happens to enjoy cooking, be wealthy and own a golden retriever did what most 20something gay men do in their state of panic (biological clock and all that) and joined Gaydar…. *awkward silence* . Not being exempt of having done this myself and neither is any of you reading this but we all know that not one of the 2000profiles of Scene Queens, GHD using, blue contact lens boffing fools are what we are looking for…and this in itself is enough to generally throw you over the edge into pudding and a romantic comedy completed with a box of Kleenex.
So the question is… DOES HE EXCIST?!


While the idea of the camel man that happens to be kind hearted AND appreciate a bit of cock and bum fun turns us all on… I need to see a few to believe it myself. This so called gay wet dream for us boys does NOT do/own or partake in any of the following:


Prada
iPhone
GHD – (Even if his hair resembles Big Bird’s pubes)
Hand Lotion
Scarves
Excessive Clubbing
Full body Waxing (If his legs are smoother than a supermodels bikini line… run)
A Hairstyle otherwise seen on exotic bird life in the Amazon (creative colours included)


This man doesn’t whine because his hair appointment had to be moved. He is not considered a “pretty boy”. He has a five o clock shadow… in the morning. He offers his jacket when he can see you are getting cold. He helps without being asked. He gets along with your father. He partakes in DIY. He has rugby player legs. He holds YOU at night. He makes you feel safe. When he loves you, he means YOU not your cock or your arse. His eyes look right through you and at any time he can throw you over his shoulder, drag you back to the bedroom and fuck your brains out!
My point being that if these men exist, they don’t go to clubs on weekends, they don’t have sad profiles about kittens and long walks on the beach on testosterone driven fuckfest dating sites and they certainly aren’t one of your mum’s friends kids. This man could be the guy that services your car, the guy that plays touch rugby with your best girlfriend’s straight friends and possibly has a pilot’s license (ok maybe not)… but boys… he is not an underwear model, he is not Daniel Craig but I am sure he is possible and I will find him even if it kills me trying!


The question, however that we can be asking ourselves, is if we are really ready to handle him?