Sing it!

I'm a big fan of Disney movies. The innocence of the plot lines, the fact that, in a violent world, there are still movies without the sex, strong language and violence. They are also usually brilliantly animated, and just make you feel so much better after watching them. There is just one thing that baffles me: why must everyone always sing about everything? And no-one bats an eye while it's happening! If I were to try that in the real world (well, apart from the fact that I sing about as well as a bullfrog) people would lock me up for being out of my mind! Can you imagine the situation? In an office environment, walking over to the printer to collect a document that I've just attempted to print, only to realise that the printer is out of ink. What to do? I know! I'll burst into song for no apparent reason!

A movie that sums this weirdness up perfectly, is Enchanted. It is ironically a Disney movie, but where they make fun of the fact that people randomly burst into song at inappropriate moments. My favourite scene in the entire film is where Prince Charming finds his princess, starts singing about how glad he is and then gets run over by a whole group of cyclists. THAT's the way it's supposed to go! My favourite movie line of all time also originates in this movie. It is where Prince Charming finally gets to belt out his love for the princess, and the male lead character mumbles to himself "Oh good, he sings too." I have shamelessly adopted that line, and mumble it at least once while watching any Disney movie, much to my Lovely Companion's chagrin.

I guess I'll never understand Disney's logic, and maybe I'm not supposed to. Maybe I'm just supposed to sit back, relax, grab the popcorn and enjoy the show....

When All Else Fails....

Men's bathrooms. In my honest opinion only nuclear waste dump sites are more disgusting! What is it about being in a bathroom that you don't own that makes men stop aiming, and more importantly, stop flushing? It's like a neanderthal part of the male brain kicks in and goes "Duuur, I are not at home, I must mark my territory.....hur hur hur." For those of us with a more advanced grasp of personal hygiene, this is absolutely baffling! In fact, I've come to the conclusion that men's bathrooms must now be indicated as follows:

This would prevent the more intelligent modern man from going into a potentially deadly environment and catching Ebola, syphilis, measles or a combination of all three. A recent event prompted my little rant, and I feel I should explain. I went into the men's bathroom at our office complex to blow my nose. Walking into one of the stalls I was greeted a ghastly sight. It appeared that someone had eaten mexican, indian and/or thai food, developed intense diarrhea and had then proceeded to explode all over the stall. Because (and I'm assuming this, nothing else would make sense) of the low blood sugar and low blood pressure caused by expelling most of your internal organs, this unfortunate soul then didn't flush. Now, because this is a frequent occurance at the office complex where I am employed, the building management put up a sign behind the stall door which says the following:

Please remember to flush the toilet after you are done!

•At the back of the toilet you will find a handle, please hold this down until everything is flushed away.

•Please clean the toilet seat after you are done.

•Please leave the stall clean and tidy.

This was clearly not working, as this particular sign has been ignored time and again. I felt inspired to make my own sign. One that would clearly convey the frustration of more hygienic men when faced with the hazards of a public bathroom. One that would demonstrate how tired we are of having to repeat the same message over and over again. The end result was a masterpiece:

After replacing management's sign with mine, we have had a 100% increase in flushing. No more dirty toilets, no more spills on the seats. In fact, the sign worked so well that building management left it in place. I firmly believe that this is because you cannot help but flush if you have Samuel L Jackson staring at you, instructing you to flush as only he can. Now every time I enter into the bathroom, I am greeted by the sight of a clean and sparkling toilet stall. This made me think that I may have missed my calling. If ever I find myself unemployed, I can create striking, effective yet pithy signs for a living....

What Went Wrong?

I couldn't help but notice (seeing as it was on pretty much every webpage I opened lately) Miley Cyrus romping around on stage while wearing very little and doing something called "twerking", whatever the hell that is. My lovely companion and I then speculated about what went wrong. Miley went from sweet and wholesome Hannah Montana to something very akin to a singing stripper with a mild concussion. Then, a few years ago, you had Britney. She also started off quite sweet and innocent, and then turned into a hillbilly as soon as the money started rolling in. What is it about fame that turns regular people into trailer trash?

This brings me to my second point. I am absolutely astounded by the success of Justin Bieber and Lady Gaga. Why on earth would a teenage boy who sounds very much like a teenage girl when he sings be so popular? And why would all teenage girls (and some 40 year old women as well) fall so madly in love with him? Then you have Lady Gaga. This is someone who started off quite okay actually, and then got so weird that using the word weird doesn't even do her justice. Bizarre, maybe? These days, every time I turn on the radio and I listen to what is on offer, I get this expression:

What happened to music?! Gone are the days of Led Zeppelin, Dire Straits and Queen. Now every band sounds the same, and if the band or singer isn't completely weird in the process, no-one listens to them.

I firmly believe that none of the bands today can ever be as epic as Queen. We are talking about a band whose music is still being used in movies and television. And this 12 years after the death of its lead singer. A man whose vocal ability and charisma few can match. So, to all bands out there I say this, be quiet, pop in a Queen CD, get out your notepads and pencils, get ready to take some notes, stomp your feet and repeat after me: "We will, we will ROCK YOU!"

Too Hot to Handle

I thought I would follow up my previous post with another recent experience. A friend and I had to go down to Durban in South Africa for a business trip. Now, for those of you who are unfamiliar with Durban, it can be summed up as a place where they regularly eat lava, just for fun. It is generally considered to be an Indian community, so if the food isn't so hot that your tongue melts upon tasting it, it is not considered food. For those of you who have read my previous post, you will have noticed that I am not a fan of fire eating, so this trip had me seriously nervous. Especially because my friend's family lives in Durban (well, close to it anyway). To them, a curry which doesn't immediately have your sinuses begging for mercy is just a stew. So imagine my trepidation upon being invited for lunch one day. Images of spontaneous combustion filled my head, along with a deep sense of dread! I could just see myself taking one bite and instantly turning into the Human Torch! (Just without the muscles and cool superpowers) We arrived at noon, and I was already sweating in anticipation. We made some small talk, during which time I swear I could hear some snickering coming from the direction of the kitchen. Finally we were called to the table, and a big bowl of chicken curry was placed on the table. My hand was shaking as I ladled some into my bowl. Was this going to be a delicious culinary experience, or was I in for a lesson in pain management? I took the first bite, and winced as it went into my mouth, just in case. I chewed slowly, savouring the spicy flavour, but also waiting for the inevitable explosion. But after a few seconds nothing happened. So I took another bite, and another after that. It was glorious! An authentic Indian curry that didn't leave me curled up on the ground in a fetal position desperately trying to think happy thoughts! My friend informed me later that he had arranged with his mother before hand to turn the heat down a bit, just to stop me from developing curry Tourettes. In fact, while this meal had a mild sting to it, and I had to have a few glasses of liquid refreshment in order to keep it manageable, to them it was actually almost bland! It is said that you can learn a lot about a culture by indulging in their food. Well, if the Indian culture is anything to go by, we can be glad that they are not developing weapons of mass destruction. Because the explosions would be epic!

Some Like It Hot!

I am not referring to Marilyn in a cleavage bearing dress. No, I am talking about spicy food. I am partial to a bit of a sting every once in a while, and I used to think that I could handle spicy food. Apparently I was sorely mistaken! Sitting at a local restaurant that specialises in various chicken dishes, I made the mistake of ordering hot chicken livers. My lovely companion ordered the mild variety, took a bite and then declared that they may have switched our dishes, because it was really hot! I tasted hers and realised that yes, it was quite hot. So just to check, I tasted mine, with the following results:

My taste buds shut down out of pure survival instinct, my eyes were watering so much that it probably looked like I just came through some devastating personal loss and was sobbing my heart out, my face was red and I was gasping for breath! This wasn't food, this was pain on a plate! I ordered water, milk, cold drink....anything just to try and douse the intense burning in my mouth. I would've even gone for week old dishwater if I thought that would help. Later, after the burning had (finally) subsided and I was able to speak coherently again, I noticed that they even advertised an Extra Hot option. I assume that if you order the extra hot, they bring you a disclaimer form first stating that you will not sue them for eating something that might just kill you. Then they would probably bring it to you while wearing a fireproof suit, taking care not to jostle the plate too much lest it explode and take out a city block. In my personal opinion, their menu should state the following:

• Mild
• Hot
• Cruel and Unusual

 Never again will I make that mistake! Even now the thought of eating that again makes me break out in a sweat and causes me to whimper involuntarily. I even have friends who do food so hot that it could melt steel quite regularly, who refuse to eat the extra hot option. Once they bring it to your table, I am convinced it would look something like this:

Now when people ask me if I eat spicy food I wet myself and run away screaming, just to be on the safe side. The old adage of "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" is completely incorrect. I have found an even more furious hell at a local chicken place.....

The Time has Arrived!

Finally, after months of waiting, our little one has made her debut! With a full head of dark hair and the cutest face, she's already a heartbreaker! I opted to get a private room in the hospital with my lovely companion, so that I could be by her side and share the experience with her during her stay. I was just rather confused about how the hospital operates. Apparently sleeping is not allowed, or they practice some form of Chinese Sleep Deprivation Torture there. Almost hourly someone would bustle into our room to clean up, provide medication, take my lovely companion's blood pressure or offer us a refreshing beverage. While I realise that most of this is necessary, I don't quite grasp the concept of being woken up at 4 in the morning for tea. It is still dark, my lovely companion and I are sleeping, more importantly, the little one is FINALLY sleeping, and suddenly the lights are turned on, someone is tapping you on the shoulder and offering you tea. We tolerated a day or two of this before my lovely companion's patience ran out, and she told the tea lady what would happen if we were EVER woken up for tea at 4 in the morning again! The tea lady had this reaction....

....and we never saw her again. When we wanted tea or coffee I had to go and ask one of the nurses or go purchase it from the kiosk.

But apart from the funnies with the hospital staff we thoroughly enjoyed experiencing our little one for the first time. And the enjoyment still continues! There are times where some frustration sets in, especially if the little one has an ache or pain somewhere but can't tell you about it. It's amazing how, even though we've only known her for a short time, we'd already walk through broken glass for her. Now I must just get used to one thing..........The Dirty Nappy!

But Why???

As my lovely companion's pregnancy progresses and our little one makes its presence felt more and more, we have noticed a previously unknown problem arising; Random Belly Touching. People would just walk up to her in random locations and touch her belly. Why? Why the hell?!

I mean, would you like it if I randomly walked up to you and touched your stomach? Yet people think that being pregnant automatically gives them permission to enter your personal bubble and touch you. And it seems it happens everywhere, with family, friends, acquaintances and complete strangers! What is it about a pregnant woman that makes people go "Ooh! Pregnant belly! Must invade personal space immediately!"

Think about this from my perspective, you are entering my wife's personal space, touching her and at the same time touching our unborn child. If I were to walk up to your wife and do that, I'd end up with a black eye and/or with some random object protruding from my posterior. Thus, I make this kind plea to the general public, please stop randomly touching my wife. Or I may have to resort to hiring a pregnancy bouncer!

This kind gentleman would politely ask you to refrain from entering my wife's personal space. If, for some reason, you decide to ignore a man with a serious glint in his eye and more muscles than He-Man, he may have to resort to picking you up in a polite manner and escorting you from our immediate vicinity. Politely, of course.

Some research has shown that we are not the only ones to feel like this. Many of our recently impregnated female friends share this discomfort. So I am asking the public, please refrain from running up to pregnant ladies and touching them. This may result in bodily harm and having some nearby object shoved up dark and mysterious places......