So I stuck my finger in my belly button 2 nights back - not intentionally.

The aroma that filled the air above my finger soon after, was that of putrid origin - like those dudes with plugs in their ears(have any of you ever smelled that shit? Fuck a corpse, its rotten)

So anyways, as disgusting as this may sound, I have never in my lifetime cultivated such knowledge of the above(finger + bellybutton - not shagging a corpse), nor inquired about such act, nor even been politely requested(by either parent) to fulfill this, now compulsive, chore of cleaning up my most neglected of bodily cavities.

Whats even more fucked up, is that… I feel rather unpleasant if I happen to mismanage the recalling of this new compelling cleanse-thee-hollow-belly-hole memory - which seems to be motivated by nostalgia (”Don’t forget to wash behind the ears“). Pfft… yah right mother dearest, as if!
I’d much rather be playing Lego in the artificial oceanic bath tub, or manufacturing bubble snow cones from the front deck of my goddamn ship.

What else have I clearly forgotten *slash* not been told to do? I know cleansing between the toes is quite a hassle, so I usually tend to avoid - as important time like that, could much rather be spent focusing on my wang(especially today, cos I’ll soon be off to my close-to-front row seat for Eddie Izzard’s act). Woop.

One never knows when they might be in for a blowjob. Preparation is one of life’s most underestimated forms of misunderstanding.

Bare in mind, this isn’t good advice… I’m just talking smack to waste time and fill up blog space.

Must run.

Work is mental this week. I have haven’t had time to even contemplate a worthy esoteric blog post. Thus… I thought I’d take the little time I don’t actually have now, to talk about something thought unprovoking, penis shriveling, and most likely… gas inducing - as substance-lacking as it may be, I do still hold a certain sense, behind my unworthy form of blogiquette, of giving-back-generously-to-the-readers…

I love pineapples, cookies and Dr Pepper.
Your average honey bee dies after 3-4 weeks from pure exhaustion.
All cows, everywhere, face north/south when they eat.
Avoid lighting incense whilst taking a piss. ‘

Aside from that useless bit of nonsense, Ive got more ink to show, heres a pic (thats not really my tummy - I swear. Oh and thats how I tan o.O):

It says - Vita Absurda Est (Life is Absurd) - Click to Enlarge(or don’t, its your choice… really.).

I hooked it up at the Ink Convention the weekend before last at CTICC. It was masterfully scribbled by a graffiti guru from Joburg - Rasty. I really feel he did an incredible job putting up with my nerves… and uncontrollably-obsessive twitch.

So anyways… I should probably leave it at that. As I have numerous clients panting behind me like a pack of horny necro’s at a mass grave site…

Farewell and happy days!

The controversial review from an ignorant driver attempting to get his motor vehicle repaired - without the use of dirty flirtatious seduction, and promiscuous behaviour.

If you have had good service from them. Good for you. Now fuck off. If you haven’t, please stay. Take a seat. Cup of tea? Head? Thats it. Now lets bitch together and form the anti-christ.

So my car(AKA The Tank), recently decided that it prefers me using my legs for a bit.

I’m pretty certain, that in a parallel universe… this would not be the case.

It all started one sunny afternoon whilst traveling along a modern day path made for modern day vehicles - and for some strange reason, also annoying cyclists. Everything was peachy, until I attempted and failed to make the jump to light-speed. I punched it, foot flat, and it just didn’t want to put out (unlike my best mate, Tom)

So I take it to these fuckers down on the main rd in the Hoek, CrackStop, and they have it for 2 days…

(Now during these 2 days, I was told many things - “Yeah we found the prob, just replacing the condenser mixing effort contraption, and the distributer reprotractorerer”. Followed by “Yeah, it seems there was some dust lodged up in the thermal trangressor.
Bare in mind however, I am about as knowledgeable on cars, as I am on the female mating schedule. So after numerous calls - I had to call them, cause they love it that way, seeing as they must clearly have misplaced their ability to dial a clients fucking number and inform them on vehicle progress - I just went there to see what was going on).

Eventually, I leave the workshop yesterday evening, with the car sounding like it just came out of a backyard in Ocean View (they put on a new exhaust for some reason? - must have been part of the usual fuck-a-person-over troubleshooting guide for idiots). Okay kewl, I can deal with a new noise… as long as I can get. The. Fuck. To. Work.
But no… It STILL doesn’t want to travel vast distances in milliseconds - as it used to.(Isn’t that unusual? Sorry to interrupt. But isn’t it funny how one can measure distance by time, but not time by distance - “Yeah sure Bob, I’ll see you in 3km’s). Now this is 2.6k later - mother of God. I now have a lousy driving car, with a louder fucking noise.

Anyways, so I take it to them this morning, furious and foaming from my devil horns.

…They end up fucking around with it, like a bunch of shirtless penis-shaped-rock-collecting fairies, for who knows how long.
Finally… they fire-up the dying beast, and it begins to make some foreign clanging sound (a sound that its never made before - they blame the last mechanic that worked on the car)…

Now… hahah…. I’m getting told, I need a new bloody motor…. ?!?$$$E$!@$ … and its gonna cost 8k.

Barely able to sense anything other than the feeling of 2.6k being tugged out my ass, followed by a 12inch wrench being lodged up, I decide to call the mechanic I used 1 year before. He arrives in haste, looks about, listens a bit, and proceeds to tell these professionals that their Ma Se Falep (in 12 unknown languages), before politely requesting that I drive it to his crib.

All in all. I honestly feel like I just payed for a Pitstop gang-rape - and it didn’t even feel good, plus it was rather pricey. Thus, if you looking for good, cheap, pleasant gang-rape, don’t go to Pitstop in Fish Hoek.

Apologies for bitching.

Phew.

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Awesome

…you cant - its impossible.

Okay I lies. But… Oh my fucking donkey, its difficult.

They own almost every major consumer product on the market - and unfortunately, many of those that I adore(d) and live(d) my life around (Dove, Lipton, Heartbrand etc.).

I was first enlightened about this particular branding a few days ago whilst searching for a favourable ice-cream in the local quiki mart. As according to my better half, Unilever is a major corporation that owns many of todays consumer product brands (see 3rd line from top). A leader in all sorts of shit - from food to cleaning agents. And up until recently, I did not know about them, or their discreet acts of inhumanity towards animals…

Thus being an avid animal lover, and someone who fails to admire personal hypocrisy, I feel morally obliged to begin a boycott in order to better improve myself as an individual. Not that I would use Axe deodorant anyway…

Is this the right path? I have attempted the vegetarian scene before, and failed because of weird appetite urges. However I do feel, if theres a valid enough big reason - that swoops past just my personal beliefs - then its entirely possible to move on hassle-free…

Fair enough, some things do require testing before hand - testing which may eventually lead to saving lives. But why are they testing it on animals? Helpless fucking animals. Smack me up the head if I’m failing to realize the insignificance of murdering psychopaths, hardcore sinister gang members, and worry-free rapists, that are being tenderly cared for by us - because of their continuous incompetence in society…

I’d much rather have these fuck-knuckles utilize evident killers (not a petty criminal) to perform the testing of creams, shampoos, COSMETICS, and the swallowing of Magnum Ice-cream sticks…

The matter requires much pondering… And much research. As I’m pretty certain they are not the only sadistic corp out there.

Urgh… Been ill - again.

My bloody immune system is probably on par with Norton Antivirus.

Ill write a post later, or tomorrow, or maybe I wont. Ahh the suspense. Its killing me - the virus that is.

I need help eating my mango.

Oh fuckit…

So wHatS N3w iN tHe L@nD oF CaBB@gE…

• The lovely lady that I so have a thing for, finally gave in - Shes awesome.
• I’m anxiously, yet requiring ‘an exception note‘ for lateness (ahh bless staff advantages), aiming to study Philosophy @ UCT this year (eventually looking at majoring). Amped.
• I have to move house in t-minus 17 days, and have yet to even begin my search for a suitable place of residence - nor even made a decision on what region I’d like to be in. I think I might just renew. Bleh.
• Sparkly Vampires are homo. Go watch “Let The Right One In“.  Swedish, subtitled, but abso-fucking-lutely wicked… and creepy.
• My car has not been washed all holiday.
• I touch myself inappropriately every time I watch the New Star Trek film - That shits like a porno.
• Work sucks - this isn’t new.
• I have a new phone. Its an LG. Its on the verge if acquiring level 1 in awesomeness. Typing is still a hassle though - whilst driving and smoking a cigi…

According to a study never once performed, there is apparently an abundance of people on this planet.

This study, which evidently lacked written or verbal reference, went on to conclude that… People. Are. Fucking. Absurd.

The people I am referring to, are the people we see on a day to day basis.

As an organization, we as people, are the most delusional, dysfunctional, strange and ridiculously peculiar beings…. that have most likely ever existed in the form of people.

People… categorize, stereotype, criticize, judge, manipulate, interrogate, analyze, materialize, and recreate… people. Sometimes even on behalf of other people.

However, no matter the intellectual level that stimulates responses to other peoples opinions, there has always been one increasingly-alarming culture, that has bypassed the system and formed the basis of what close-minded antagonists call, the modern day debacle. These socially-dormant, yet morally profound critical thinkers, honestly believe they withhold the remarkable ability to retain decent conversation (and focus), regardless of clear consciousness - as if they charismatically, and unintentionally sport some form of ultimate wisdom - caring not, for whether or not… the discussion is even remotely philosophically-relevant.

They stand on high pedestals, smell of originally-imported incense, and reside in the puffy clouds artificially-manufactured thanks to the burning of a chronically-potent supernatural herb.

Their superior knowledge, infinite religious criticism, and acute misunderstanding of analytical thinking, forms part of our society no matter how many of you disagree.

Thus… once equipped with their extraordinary vocab, sea-cleansed mop, and environmental fanaticism… these culturally-insane mishaps, are astounding in every non-conforming way.

Finally…

According to the TCH-filled mind, every question ever historically asked and answered, is fundamentally flawed. Factual relevance cited - but forgotten.

I have no idea what the fuck just happened.