Stu's take on…

Time for some poetry. Coz I’m like artistic and stuff, and in tune with, like, stuff.

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I’ve got a knife
Now get in the f@ucking Van

… one more:

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I’ve got Alzheimer’s,
This little piggy went to market.

—
Thanks Jeremy

Image Source: BBC News

Check out this bit of news from MyBroadband.co.za

A nuclear bunker from the Cold War era in Britain was sold on eBay for more than 20,000 pounds (30,000 dollars, 22,000 euros) Monday.

The underground bunker in the Peak District of Derbyshire, central England, went on sale at a starting estimate of 500 pounds on Thursday, but more than 40 bids sent the price tag soaring.

The bunker came into service in 1959 and was used by the Royal Observer Corps, a civilian defence organisation composed mainly of volunteers who had the task of reporting nuclear attack and fallout.

According to the seller, the bunker is in an “elevated position with panoramic views” of the Peak District.

Built 15 feet (4.5 metres) underground on farmland, the shelter comprises of two rooms — a chemical toilet and monitoring room — and two ventilation shafts.

“A rare opportunity to acquire a piece of Cold War history,” the seller added. “Your own nuclear bunker within a plot of land and much original equipment.

As well as furniture, the buyer will also receive a siren box, enamel bucket, jerry cans and rope for hauling heavy items up the shaft.

Oh well now I simply HAVE to have one seeing as they throw in an enamel bucket! Wasn’t convinced at first, but the bucket was the clincher.

So what exactly does one DO with a bunker?

By the way – did I mention the bucket?

Fast food – not only does it have all the nutritional value of (and generally about the same amount of flavour as) my left boot, it doesn’t even really look as good as promised in the ads.

“What? Do you mean to imply that advertisers exaggerate? Seriously? Noooooooo, it can’t be!”

TutzTutz.com recently posted this set of photos neatly illustrating what the ad offers, and what you actually end up getting:

Lovely. Who’s hungry?

Source: TutzTutz.com

If anyone needs me this weekend I’ll be building this:

All by myself.

Just me.

No construction crew.

No team of strong okes.

Moi.

All by lonesome.

What are the chances of me not screwing this up and simultaneously completely drowning my neighbour’s prized roses and watching the rest of the 25000 litres of water go pouring through my lounge door, all in time for me to discover my television gently floating down the passage?

I’m sensing a FAIL photo being posted here on Monday…

P.S. And the next smartass who points out that summer is practically over and asks why I’m putting a pool up now coz it’s almost winter and and and gets 1 x PK op die LO.

Wolverine's stepdad is gonna moer you.

Taking time out from filming all those really really really kak Silversands TV adverts, old Dolph found the time to don his party-pakkie and have a bit of a sing song, crooning to the Elvis treffer “A little less conversation“.

And do you know what I have to say about it? Good on ya sport! 10 points for effort.

Naturally in the process a fair amount of stuff gets ordentlik gebliksem too.

Coz that’s what Dolph does. He moers you. Whilst singing. Without breaking a sweat.

No, you’ll never be that cool.

Check it out. (Feel free to skip ahead to about 1 minute into the clip…)

Fa la la la la BAM! CRASH! BOOM! fa la la la la…

As reported on this fine site on Friday, yesterday was my brother’s birthday. Which in turn meant that as a birthday present we were kind enough to present him with a rather impressive hangover.

As I expected, it went badly (from my liver’s perspective anyway) from pretty much the second I arrived at the bar – I was barely through the door when he was berating the poor unsuspecting bartender for not IMMEDIATELY having presented me with a frankly dangerous number of shooters comprising (or so it tasted anyway):

• A generous dose of rocket fuel
• 3 drops of unbridled pain
• topped off with liquid fire.

The rest is a bit of a blur: quite a few hours of trips to the bar, bawdy shouting at everyone I’ve ever met to “Have another tequila! My round!”, a few trips to the ATM to fund said rounds (always a FAIL idea), neatly rounded off with perhaps a tequila or two. Or three. Or four. Repeat.

This carried on for far too long before Her Royal Fianceeness decided the novelty of me spending our life savings on Olmeca was gone, and promptly frog-marched me off home. Well, I didn’t so much march as stumble from wall to lamppost to kerb to wall. And one particularly complicated flight of two stairs.

Little boet failing dismally at a "vuvuzela funnel"

Little brother on the other hand was in top form – we took bets on how long before he’d pass out (my money was on 11pm), and yet he somehow managed to outlast all of us. And it needs to be mentioned: he arrived home with a very impressive black-eye and no recollection of how exactly that came to be.

Rumour has it that contrary to my gleeful proclomations of “That’s what up punk! That’s what happens when you tune me kak, Boet.” it was apparently the result of him managing to fall off the bar (let’s not get into why he happened to be ON the bar in the first place) and sacrifice an eye for the greater good – NOT smashing the bottles of tequila he was carrying at the time. Good effort! Proper form! Protect the tequila at all costs and all that.

The tequila - it is safe.

So all in all a rather successful evening had by all. And to all of those who attended: Till we meet again! Only this time let’s ease up on the shooters, mmmkay?

I’m pretty much going to leave it at that – we’re not even going to go into Sunday, other than to state: Ouch.

And of course: Sshhhh.

Looks like you won’t be hearing much out of me this weekend. Sunday is my brother’s birthday, which means that Saturday evening may or may not (I’m gonna go with ‘may’) be rather hectic if Mr J. Daniels, Mr J. Cuervo and Mr C. Glass have anything to say about it.

And they all tend to have far too much to say as far as I’m concerned. Although it probably wouldn’t kill me to not provide such an attentive audience.

The manager of the bar we’re going to has already sent out an open invitation to every single one of the members of the establishment’s Facebook group inviting them to mercilessly punish the guy…

Which leaves Sunday.

Sundays are in turn devoted to whining about “the worst hangover ever” and “I swear I’m never drinking again”, etc. followed by much quaffing of Rehidrat, Aspirin and one or more greasy fry-ups.

So to cut a long story short – let’s check back in on Monday. Bright and early now, ya hear?

So where is someone supposed to go party in Pretoria?

Pretoria seems to have a severe lack of awesome nightclubs. We all know the regular waterholes in Menlyn Piazza and Hatfield and one or two clubs scattered around, but surely there are some other shit-hot clubs and cocktail lounges somewhere in the city that I am unaware of.

And I’ve been very lax in my partying lately, so it’s not too hard to believe that there are loads I’ve never heard of. At least I hope there are.

Lemme know if you are aware of them. And if you work for any, or own one, or just spend far too much time there, send me some info on it (stu@stustake.com). I’ll be putting together a list with pics, info and contacts in the not-too-distant future.

And I may even be forced to go and personally road-test each and every one. Watch this space.

Awesome.

And allow me to preempt Jeremy here: Yes, I know you’re going to write a comment along the lines of: “Go to Joburg.”

No.

Check out this pretty cool ad from adidas to kick off the new adidas / Star Wars Collection.

Here’s the official marketing stuff, but if that’s far too much reading for a Friday evening let me sum it up for you: adidas has teamed up with Star Wars and made some shoes.

There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?

Look out for some famous faces -- Beckam and Snoop make an appearance…

adidas Originals is kicking off 2010 by welcoming you to the neighborhood, the street where originality comes to life as artists, athletes, and celebs celebrate their style. Everyones invited to our street corner along with some special guests, who traveled from a galaxy far, far away to launch a years worth of celebrations.

Star Wars and adidas Originals have officially joined forces in our most colossal collaboration to date, bringing you a striking collection of sneakers and apparel inspired by the characters and crafts youve followed for a lifetime.

The most iconic moments and beloved figures from the Star Wars saga are translated to the streets, telling their creative story across a forceful collection of adidas Originals footwear and apparel.

Celebrate this powerful alliance to the beat of a new and improved remix of the Imperial March, as Vader and the Stormtroopers land on our street corner greeted by Snoop Dogg, David Beckham, Calle 13, DJ Neil Armstrong and Daft Punk representing their originality. No matter which side of the Force youre on, believe the hype, this year is going to be massive.

Join http://www.facebook.com/adidasoriginals for more.

It’s safe to assume that I’m not the only who has noticed that everybody is back at work in Joburg. And I do mean everyone…

Gone are the days (well the 2 week period around Christmas anyway) where one could hop in the car in Pretoria and zip off to your destination in Johannesburg, stepping from your chariot/skedonk barely 35 minutes later.

It just couldn’t last, could it? Now every Tom, Dick, Harry, Bob, Frikkie and Sue-Ellen have arrived back from their annual alcohol and sun-stroke fests to Cape Town, for those with an affinity for wine, and Margate, for those with an affinity for brannas, Coke and moering okes what can like to check you skeef.

Once again Joburg and all related roads in the province burst at the seams with slow-ass cars, and I therefore descend into a perpetual sulk for three to four hours a day, all the while feeling the need to inform all the other tonsils on the road that they are, as per general public opinion (or so I’d like to imagine), in fact idiots.

It’s nothing personal.

Well, actually it is. Very. Get off my roads.

Oh well.

I think it’s time to go farm bunnies in the Free State. Who’s coming with me?

—
Other traffic-related posts:

• Why does highway traffic suck? Now you know…
• Google Maps Navigation – a challenger to regular GPS?
• Traffic fine: FAIL. Metro Cop sense of humour: PASS.
• Stu’s take on… traffic (i)