Thursday, October 29, 2009

The day I got it wrong

(Warning! this is a long and serious post with no traces of arb or humour)

So there I was making plans to take my basset hound Charlie for his first ever puppy social with two friends. It was a pleasant day and I expected everything to go well. I mean, how could three people walking their dogs in the park on a nice day possibly go wrong…

Well it did go wrong.

VERY wrong.

I offered to pick up one of my mates and her pooch on the way to the venue to make life a bit easier and for some company on the way. She agreed and off we went together up the hill to meet up with the rest of our party. Now, people that know me tend to put up with my silly hygiene issues and carry on with life. The issue in question in this situation was the fact that I don’t allow dogs to sit in the front of my bakkie (bakkie = truck or utility van). People in front, dogs at the back I’ve done it on many occasions (there is a canopy so it’s quite safe) and it hasn’t ever been a problem.

We went on to pick up my dog and then off to rendezvous. This is where the story takes a turn for the worse. At the rendezvous we get out the car to meet the rest of the party and check on the dogs at the back of my bakkie. I open the top half of the door only to be greeted by one dog (Charlie)… where was the 2nd one?

Turns out my friends’ dog saw her owner leave, jumped through the window and into the front of my bakkie to follow and got closed shut in there in the process.

“Arrgh! A dog in the front of my bakkie!” I thought as I went through to the passenger door to fetch the dog with the intention of returning it to the back of the bakkie. BAD MOVE… as soon as I opened the door I realised that this dog was not going to allow me (a complete stranger) to pick it up. At that instant I froze giving the dog an opportunity to jump out the cabin and onto the road. She tried to run toward her owner but there was a deep gutter in the way and the only alternative to get to said owner was past me. She scooted past my legs and in a consequent failed attempt to grab her I ended up scaring her across the road where, as fate would have it, a car was driving past.

It happened so quickly in front of my very eyes, I remember every detail. With the direction of travel, momentum and fear this dog had, I thought she was a goner. I winced in helplessness as the car approached. Then I observed something quite strange, call me crazy but it appeared as though the dog hit some sort of invisible barrier literally centimeters away from the cars bumper and tire. She let out a Yip redoubled backwards and spun around holding her front left paw in the air in pain before running across to the other side of the road.

We proceeded to take the dog to the vet her owner crying uncontrollably all the while. She decided not to take a lift with me… and even though I followed and tried to be there for her, I kept getting the feeling that my mere presence was unwelcome. This was perhaps the most uncomfortable I’d ever felt. Sensing her need for space (from me the guy that almost killed her dog) and not quite knowing how to react I decided to keep my distance at the vet. I stuck around for a bit before realizing how useless I must have looked and said goodbye shortly after finding an excuse to leave and get my mind off the situation.

I’ve apologized and offered to help in any way I can since, but I just can’t seem to shake off the whole ordeal… It’s even distracting me from my work. I keep thinking of how much of a pillock I was to prioritize my personal hygiene issues ahead of that little doggies safety. I keep thinking about my friend in tears. I keep thinking about how I could have been more responsible and prevented the whole thing from happening and about how things could have turned out so much worse.

The dog has since been X-rayed and fully checked up. Thankfully she is okay (a bruised muscle).

In any case I really just want to get over all this and carry on with life. I thought that getting it off of my chest in a post could do the trick. I will probably have to endure a fair amount of pointing, sneering and general cold stares from the dog lover society that has since kicked me out (I don’t blame them). Pity, I quite like them even though they will probably never be as friendly to me again. I guess this is the price one must pay for being an idiot. The worse case scenario is that word of my deed spreads quickly and that I’ll have to endure a fair amount of being ignored or worse still, I'll have to put up with fake friendliness from people that don’t like or respect me any more.

Ahhhhh…. (EEbEE smiles)

That worked really well. I feel much better after getting it off my chest. People make mistakes… shit happens. Get over it and move on. Why should I care about what people think of me. One thought one goal. The rest is noise.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

In the news today... Dodos

Two parties are fighting over custody of the worlds last dodo egg. The egg is currently being held by the East London Museum (SA). They were loaned the egg 65 years ago by the Courney-Latimer family of Mauritius and decided not to give it back...

The museum director claims the egg, worth one million rands (+-100.000 USD), as museum property based on, and I quote "...What makes it important is the length of time it has been with us..." or in other words, "we stole it so long ago that it should now belong to us by default".

Failing to come up with something intelligent to say, SABC news reported "Dodo's are extinct and the chances of another egg making its way into the public domain are slim"...


Monday, October 26, 2009

Mr Tarantino does it again

Inglorious Basterds is a masterpiece!

The basic plot: It's WWII ande Evil Nazi's are ruthlessly hunting down and slaughtering Jews. Enter the Inglorious Bastards, an elite force of ruthless Nazi hunting Jews. At this point in time I found myself rubbing my hands together in glee at the propect of sweet sweet revenge (especially after the introduction that will make you hate the Nazi's with a passion).
As with all Tarantino movies, there is a fair amount of blood, guts and scalping... Don't let this put you off though, there is soo much more to this movie than violence. The violence is only the lettuce in the burger (makes it look appealing to eat but doesn't really change the flavour...would you have got that if I didn't explain?). In any case, I was expecting the main focus of this motion picture to be the actual bastards and their ecapades. In fact, you will be thrown about different chapters with various other characters and themes till all the story bits come together for a grand finale.

I was Uber impressed with the depth of personality portrayed in the 'bad guys'. It seems that Mr Tarantino spends more time developing these roles than he does protagonists. Which is fine... It just means that by the end of the movie you are kind of torn between siding with the shallow and predictable Inglorious Bastards or the evil but quite genius Nazi's...

...which in a Tarantino movie doesn't really count for anything since the plot has a 99% chance of killing off everyone.

As a bonus for some, you get to look at the moderately attractive Melanie Laurent in a number of scenes. I for one, think she has a bit of an 'i'm a drug addict' look about her. The number of extreme close ups on her face also make you realise how strange her nose looks from certain angles... Enjoy it while it lasts because you will be scared as shit of her after one of the final scenes in the movie. Brrrr... good grief!

Sunday, October 25, 2009

Growing up 101

When our minds are young we fail to see the big picture. Our focus is blinded by immediate gains, a complete lack of direction and ignorance of the ultimate outcome. How often did you/do you reflect back on a situation and think "Geez, if I had known about consequence X, I may have acted differently in situation Y".
(nodding in agreement you are, yes?)

In my opinion growing up is not about having progressively less fun and making progressively more babies. It is all about how much you take notice of and appreciate details. It’s about honing your perception of reality. There are plenty of people out there with fully functional reproductive organs that I don’t consider adult yet.

For example, Julius Malema on rape charges: “When a woman didn’t enjoy it, she leaves early in the morning. Those who had a nice time will wait until the sun comes out, request breakfast and ask for taxi money. In the morning, that lady requested breakfast and taxi money. You can’t ask for money from somebody who raped you.”


You get the picture...

“Please Sir, tell us about this ‘attention to detail’ and how it has anything to do with growing up?”

“Well little Peggy Parkinson, since you asked so politely I am more than happy to answer your question. Before I do though, have you done your homework? I know you have been skipping homework consistently over the last few weeks... and don’t give me any of those ‘my parents beat me ‘ stories, we all know that both your parents died in that hostage situation last week and your granddad is much too old and weak to beat you...”

“Ummm...(sobs) yes Sir, I have done all my homework”


We cannot write off the coming of age and puberty as determinants of adulthood. They are often related. The main sign of maturity in my opinion is a well developed mind. Growing attention to details is a sure sign of a maturing mind. We no longer eat to satisfy hunger, we start appreciating flavour combinations and savouring good tastes. We stop seeing buildings and start appreciating architecture. We don’t listen and appreciate music as a whole, we delve deeper and recognise talent not only in the way individual instruments are played but also in way they work together with the lyrics of the song and other instruments being played at the same instant...

As wonderful as it is to acknowledge the beauty of a mature mind I also remind myself of the negative impact of age on one’s mind. Senility, the harsh reality that awaits those of us that live to an age where our intellect dries up and we revert to old ways and prepubescent mind sets; we become,

like Madonna...

I always think about Madonna when it comes to this topic. She is living proof of the process I have outlined above. You can tell by observing the progression of lyrics to her songs.

Pubescent Madonna (1984) “Like a Virgin” exerpt: (I pray night and day that I never meet someone as horny as this)

Like a virgin, ooh, ooh
Like a virgin
Feels so good inside
When you hold me, and your heart beats, and you love me

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Ooh, baby

Adult Madonna (1998) “Frozen” exerpt: (I actually like this song)

You only see what your eyes want to see
How can life be what you want it to be
You're frozen
When your heart's not open

You're so consumed with how much you get
You waste your time with hate and regret
You're broken
When your heart's not open

Senile Madonna (2008) “Give it 2 me” exerpt: (I’M SERIOUS!!! These are the official lyrics)

If it's against the law, arrest me
If you can handle it, undress me...

Give it to me, yeah
No one's gonna show me how
Give it to me, yeah
No one's gonna stop me now...

Get stupid, get stupid
Get stupid, don't stop it [What]
Get stupid, get stupid
Get stupid, don't stop it [What]
Get stupid, get stupid
Get stupid, don't stop it [What]
Get stupid, get stupid
Get stupid, don't stop it
Get stupid [To the left], get stupid [To the right]
Get stupid [To the left], don't stop it [To the right]
Get stupid [To the left], get stupid [To the right]
Get stupid [To the left], don't stop it [To the right]
Get stupid [To left left], get stupid [Right right]
Get stupid [Left left], don't stop it [Right right]
Get stupid, stupid [Left left], stupid, stupid [Right right]
Stupid, stupid [Left left], stupid, stupid [Right right]

To end off:

I’m not one to wish for death... but I would honestly prefer to die before I live to an age where I become like Madonna and my mind has basically been reduced to a wobbling mound of excrement...