Buy the best

In addition to the thing I have for hair products(No jokes), I now also have a thing for incense. No, this is not the female co-anchor speaking, it is still the male editor. I know this is odd, but my current addiction(I’m over my drug addiction of the ’80’s) seems to be to incense. Once again “Incense” and not “Incest” which is easily confused.

I always buy my incense at The Curry Pot in Rondebosch/ Kenilworth/whatever you will, because it gives me the whole feeling of a place that sells incense. And while I’m there I usually pick a couple of fresh spices from their vast selection of spices. Casa del Sandenbergh in Hout Bay also burn the Spiritual Guide so it must be good. They buy it at some place at the Rondebosch Shopping Centre in Cape Town, and I’m sure this stuff will be available at anyone who sells only the best incense. Ask for it by name. Burn it. Enjoy it.
But I don’t mess around buying one pack, I buy the whole box and often two boxes. You get six “Packs” of twenty sticks in a box. Currently I’m burning about twenty sticks a day, which can be considered an addiction.

My desk is always surrounded by smoke and it has a zen like feel when you walk in to the brainstorming area of my life, which is my huge wooden desk.

I have tried other types of incense, but a lot of them smell too much like chick’s perfume. I don’t know what Spiritual Guide smells like, but it’s so damn good. I don’t want my work space to smell like Pot Pourri and so stick with what I know which is Spiritual Guide.

It’s really good and it picks me up and calms me down. This in addition to the tea I drink makes sure that I am calm at all times, getting me ready for the insanity of life which strikes at any time. It readies me for a life of complete and utter debaucherous 24 hour a day party boy excess.

Right now as I type I am literally surrounded by smoke, I’m breathing it in deeply, oooooh it’s nice! Nice sexy times! Don’t worry about me I don’t have a problem. Yes I burn incense. Yes I drink weird tea. Yes I drink by myself sometimes. Yes this past Fridays post(“I’m hungover”) was a little weird but I can assure you that I am a functioning member of society…most of the time.

Anyway just letting you know that if you are stuck in a manky office, and your co-worker is sweating his/her tit’s off, then go buy some Spiritual Guide and burn the life out of it. Don’t even try anything else, you don’t want it smelling like some sort holistic freak farm.

Go with your Spiritual Guide.

It’s working for me.

Can you feel it?

Sean Lloyd

Editor

I just thought I would mention this to all you old drinkers out there. It’s nearly time for the FNB Whisky Live Festival 2007! YES! I won’t lie I don’t really drink whisky, but I plan to attend the event. I’m probably buying the drivers ticket so I don’t get to drink the booze. But maybe at the last minute I will change my mind and find another driver and smash it up with the Entourage.

I still remember last year, I was chilling at home minding my own business when I got the drunkest call in the world.

“Whishkeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyyy Live Feshtival come pick ush up”

They were so drunk it was a joke! I don’t think they could actually taste the flavours of the whisky, they were just downing the stuff like water. Mind you I have never been able to taste the intricate flavours of whisky. Can you really taste vanilla and peat in whisky? I think a lot of it is just drunk whisky tasters talk! You can’t possibly distinguish between ten different flavours in one drink can you?

I can see how they find these flavours, these old drunkard whisky tasters.

Drink one: Mother of God, this stuff is hideous! Tastes like gasoline!

Drink two: Ahhhhhhhhh it’s burning! Give me the milk I’m on fire!

Drink three: It stings my nostrils! Call the doctor I’m bleeding!

Drink four: It’s not so bad. More tingly than burning.

Drink five: Hey! Waitress! You come over here! You are in need of much punishment.

Drink six: Silence

Drink seven: (Looks in mirror) Damn, I look good! Going to go home and punish the wife tonight! Ooooh I’m dead sexy, look at my sexy body. Touch me naughty girl.

Drink seven: (Writes down the flavours) -Thinking in his head- This is terrible, it tastes like a burnt out clutch mixed with brake fluid. Wait I can’t say that, I’m being paid to say good stuff. Writes some notes- Oh delicious, like a refreshing river stream. Notes of patchouli, a hint of salty air and the tiniest whisper of a freshly cut vanilla pod. Oooooooh what’s that? Is that the faintest flair of pomegranate? I think it is!

Drink 8: The wife is going to be pissed at me tonight. I wonder is KFC is still open?

Drink 9: Night cap for the road. The wife is going to kill. Breath mints? Check. Game face? Check. Sober to drive? Better call the wife. Gripes.

Details of the festival:

The FNB Whisky Live Festival 2007 is taking place in Cape Town from the 31st 0f October until the 2nd of November. It starts at 18h00 and ends at 22h00 each night at the Cape Town International Convention Centre(CTICC)

For all the little details regarding who will be there, prices and booking and so on and so forth, click HERE for the FNB Whisky Live Festival 2007 website.

Be there. Or be sober.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

I think this World Cup got off to a great start, with SLXS telling you to put money on the Springboks winning when the betting was at 7-1. Then we go on to win, and everyone loves me for making them some good money! This World Cup was like a dream and South Africa were the only team who were fully confident in themselves from the beginning. From the coach to the captain and the team, these guys were in this World Cup for real.

People have doubted Jake White and John Smit before, people said our team was too confident of winning and overseas people slated Percy for his hairstyle. So what if he has highlights in his hair, it won us the World Cup didn’t it? Percy nearly single handedly scored all the points in the final, with a convincing kick coming from Francois Steyn as well, who seemingly has the world at his feet. Percy was lucky I was not near him. Or anyone from the team as a matter of fact. I wanted to cry on their shoulders, they made 2007 my dream year.

I should also mention Danie Rossouw’s tackle. Classic, denying them the try! That is what I’m talking about.

Poor Francois Steyn. Twenty years old, a World Cup win and from what I have heard, a R1 million bonus for the win for the team members, which means he has achieved what most strive their whole lives for. I’m not jealous. Well not TOO jealous anyway! It’s awesome though what he has achieved.

The week of the World Cup I could be seen hitting up the Milk Thistle tablets to give my liver a good refurbishing before the punishment a World Cup win produces. Try saying Milk Thistle with a lisp. Milk Sissel. Or Milk Thithel? Tough one. Go for the Solgar Milk Thistle. Available at health stores all around Cape Town. One tablet, three times a day worked for me. Ok I might have smashed a couple more when I got home that night because the bottle is now empty. I can’t remember how many I took.

The week leading up to the World Cup was also madness with a lot of South Africans putting the Springbok badge as their Facebook profile photo as a show of support. Rugby jerseys were also seen on the people in the streets and on the day of the World Cup, I saw countless people with flags flying out their windows. Never before have I seen a nation so united by a game! It was something to experience, and I’m proud to be a part of it.
The big day started off for Charlie V and me(Rhymes) at my place, where we had a little sparkling wine toast in preparation for victory(I would call it champagne but we are not drinking the French one. I mean, we were not with Team Moet. We drank some South African sparklers) After smashing the bottle in literally 25 minutes I was feeling at quite good speed. We then caught a ride through to town where we met up at The ‘Hood. Neighbourhood. We arrived looking very casual. Dapper, but casual. After the usual meet and greet, we were into our spots on the balcony in not time, just soaking up the atmosphere and the drinks.

Luckily for us Mike had put his body on the line and taken some seats at about 5pm on the balcony, so we could all sit easy and watch the game. Not that I actually took a seat during the game, I was too busy standing and shouting and losing my mind. Mike literally did take one for the team, as he was worse for wear by the end of the game. My Chinese counterparts from Dude Wheres My Car would say something along the lines of “He was pretty lapsakdooi last night”

You know that tune they play in the World Cup, I don’t know how to write it, but they play it in the stadium and then the crowd erupts? Well Charlie V managed to get the same response by playing that tune on his trumpet, at Neighbourhood! No jokes, he took his trumpet to the World Cup final. That is excessive! The chicks were going berserk over it, and I still remember one guy coming up to him and saying “The birds are loving that. Carry on playing that and you WILL come right tonight!” After mentioning this here on SLXS, I can already see what is going to be happening. Everywhere I go guys are going to be playing trumpets. Sorry boys, you missed the boat. It’s been done already. Try something else. Like your natural charm.

I try my natural charm all the time and it never works which is why I keep a bottle of Vodka nearby at all times, in case I need a pick me up. I also try my natural looks from time to time but as you can see, that has not worked either. And then the only time girls are going crazy around me is because one of my best mates is playing a trumpet and they are screaming for him. Will I ever get a break?

To be honest it is the only time I have seen girls panties( Red lace) nearly falling off over such a “nerdy” thing. I remember at school I used to laugh at the trumpet playing guys. If only I knew how much attention and action you would receive, I would have made my parents send me to band camp. While those kids were at band camp, I was out partying at Springboks and Billy the Bums in Claremont trying to come right. Now look who’s laughing…and it’s not me. I’m crying.

After the win, the streets of Cape Town went absolutely off the hook. Long Street in Cape Town came to a standstill as cars stopped in the road and people started dancing and waving flags and laughing and just enjoying the fact that South Africa are the business. I was just reading over at SARugby.com that we are not only World Champions but also the number 1 ranked team in the world. In addition South Africa were awarded the IRB team of the year, Jake White was awarded the IRB coach of the year and Bryan Habana was awarded the IRB player of the year. I love it! I never doubted the boys this year, and those 15 guys truly did have the power of a nation.

Here are some of the pictures from the big day. The massive day. Huge in fact. Life altering. When you go to Neighbourhood, try out the curly fries, but more importantly I had the nachos on Saturday night. I don’t know what to say. I really don’t. Other than I want to just say that I want more of them inside me.

Oh and I should also mention in passing, that Neighbourhood happen to have waitresses who are EXTREMELY easy on the eye. I couldn’t believe it. No one could. No one can! We shall leave it at that. Take it. Or leave it. It’s up to you. Take a look. Have a visit. Ok that’s enough.

UPDATE: Our win managed to absolutely break the English. Even Jonny Wilkinson, who never drinks, got a bit phuza faced. Go Jonny! Check it HERE

Some of the girls were also keen for a blow on the trumpet. What?

Who is that in the white top looking backwards?

Celebrating another World Cup win in Long Street

Long Street was off the hook after the game with fans crowding the street

Sean Lloyd

Editor

I see Cape Town as one big playground, and for a good part of the year I run around Cape Town being crazy, doing stupid things and acting the fool. There are moments of seriousness where I speak to powerful people, but that’s just part of what I need to do. It’s a given.

Anyway, after noticing that the temperatures are rising rapidly in Cape Town, I think it’s only a good idea that we all cool off. And in summer there is nothing better than to smash it up on boats and yachts. There is nothing something satisfying about docking off of Clifton and jumping into the ice cold water, then getting out and singing the high notes like the Gibb brothers from the Bee Gees. I call it the “Nutcracker note” Quite graphic.

I recall spending Charlie V’s birthday last year on some sort of boat, and it was spectacular. From the photo you might see this.

I underestimated Charlie V’s sneakiness

Quite an odd photo I won’t lie, but it’s part of our continuous party boy lifestyle that allows us to do these things and get away with them. On that particular day a few of the girlfriends were on board, but we locked them away for a while so we could have some boys time together. Oh and did we make use of that time. I was just chilling drinking a beer when Charlie V sneaked up on me from behind. Strange behaviour but is was good times. We sparked up a braai on the back of the boat and laughed at the people who were stupid enough to be swimming. However, ten minutes later we were swimming and it’s not fun. Clifton is deathly cold, and I’m more prone to spending my time at the braai with a drink while watching the girls rub coconut oil on themselves. You know…I’m interested in the moisturising properties of coconut oil and the way it interacts with the users skin when exposed to UV rays. You don’t believe me do you? Don’t worry, neither do I.

I just can’t wait to hit the boats again, it’s the most fun you can have with your clothes on. I mean…not to say our clothes did not come off…cough…umm…err…ok that’s enough for today.

Tomorrow we will speak again!

Peace, love and respect and don’t go too hard on yourselves, it’s only Monday. You have a whole week to do stuff your boss wants you to do. And if you don’t finish it this week…there is always next week.If he says “You’re fired”, then tell him Sean says that he is fired.

BOOM shakalaka!

Sean Lloyd

Editor

Before I start this I need to tell you a little about what happened on Friday afternoon. I woke up early, sent my various power e-mails to heads of state and then sat back waiting for my empire to grow. Waiting around tends to get tedious though and Alain from Casa del Sandenbergh invited me over for “a drink” at about 11am. We all know that a Friday drink at this time will end in me naked running down a main road in Hout Bay. Fortunately for you, me and the residents of Hout Bay, I kept my clothes on. I sat back admiring the view, which is not a terrible one I won’t lie and got started on hydrating myself as it was a scorching Friday.

Before long I was chilling on the lawn with a Savanna in hand and just digging my own vibe.(What? You say Savanna is a girls drink? I will drink whatever I like when the mood, and the occasion strikes) Those early drinks ended with me making a sneaky exit at about 4pm when I decided to cut my losses because things were going to get pear shaped. Which they did indeed when Kieran and Simon arrived. That was how I “spent” Friday.

The view of Hout Bay from Casa del Sandenbergh. Not a terrible one. 

At some point during the weekend I got an sms from Carey(She is on BMP’s team) asking me if I was keen to go to the Ritz hotel in Sea Point for some or other Johnnie Walker party. I found the whole situation quite odd, you know, a friends girlfriend inviting me to a hotel in the evening. I said to her that I would sms back because I was not sure if I had any other plans and would need to consult the SLXS Entourage to see if they had planned anything else for me.

Anyway I sms’d Mike to see what he was doing, not telling him that Carey had invited me to the Ritz. He said he was going to the Ritz for some Johnnie Walker party and I should have received an invite from Carey. That’s when I told him that I had forgot about the invite, but I would indeed be going and I apologised for forgetting. Seriously, I was worried for a moment there that Carey was inviting me by myself.

So we rolled into the Ritz in the Mini, which is quite sick, nice one Carey darling. Now we are just waiting for Carey to go away for a weekend with family and then myself and Mike are going to take it for an advanced driving course. That car honestly handles on rails from what I have heard, and from what I will soon experience.

We arrived at the Ritz and were told by some foxy minx that we should park downstairs(Ha ha…You bet), which we promptly did. Now it’s not often that I get scared in Cape Town as I know everything. EVERYTHING. Except a few things which are not that important. And I usually have BMP close at hand to fend off random fans. But going into the Ritz parking I was scared. As in “I’m about to be chopped into a million pieces and fed to a pack of wolves” type scared. Scared like a scary movie scared.

The parking downstairs has an air of mystery and death to it, and the ceiling is only 1.8m tall. At times my head would have hit the pipes on the ceiling had I not crouched over into a foetal type position. The whole place just screamed freaky to me. There were cars parked under there that looked like they had not been moved in forever. Dust had been caked onto them and there were cars I had never even seen before because they were so old. Ducking and diving(And dodging and dipping naturally) we made it into the open, happy to have our lives intact. We then took the lift to the 21st floor where we were to be spending the evening.

The whole atmosphere in the Ritz is a little bit weird and I constantly thought I was on some sort of sleazy movie set. It felt so surreal in there, from the freaky parking garage to the old school decorating at the top floor with the red curtains and red lights. I’m sure this was for the Johnnie Walker red theme, but it felt sleazy. I think the photo below captures the strip joint vibe perfectly:

The sleaze factor was high

Anyway there was free food and booze which was nice, except when I bit into a staple in one of the pieces of food. At first I thought I had chipped a tooth and was chewing on it, until I bizarrely pulled a staple out my mouth. Are they trying to kill me? I think they are. So the top floor of the Ritz actually rotates which is quite a novel concept. I think it does one full rotation every 90 minutes which is quite cool.

We abused the food and basically just chilled by ourselves the whole night just eating and drinking. Well someone has to do it don’t they?

BMP and myself could actually not take the turning anymore and went down to the bar where the floor does not turn. Immediately I felt a bit better but I was still spinning somewhat. Clearly we had been completely abusing our free drinks privileges. Which we do from time to time.

The top of the Ritz is the restaurant and I suppose it’s quite cool to have dinner there and spin around, but the Ritz could do with a bit of a revamp to make it look modern and less like a place where the next thriller movie is going to be set.

The view from the Ritz towards Lions Head. 

Looking towards Green Point Stadium from the 21st floor of the Ritz

I must be honest the views are spectacular and I could have dinner there with no problems while looking over Cape Town and spinning(From the floor and the drink) I will ask them to hold the side order of staples though.

So where is it?

Click HERE for what you need to know on the Ritz in Sea Point Cape Town.

Oh and afterwards we went for a beer at Neighbourhood…It feels like I have to go there all the time now because it’s so much fun. And so we watched the Springboks win the World Cup there on Saturday night. Pictures from the debauchery to follow.

Sean Lloyd

Editor 

I’m not fully hydrated and eating. I’m on liquids. I can’t eat today. I’m busy annihilating a mix of bananas, pineapple, apples and strawberries in the blender. It’s quite sweet, just like me.

Thanks to last night I feel like I have been poisoned with arsenic, or at least rat poison. Because rat poison dries rats out and then they die. Or something like that. I’m not yet ready to die as such, but quite close actually. It’s quite weird how the body works. I drank such a vast quantity last night and I’m still thirsty. They say alcohol is a diuretic, but it can’t be that good of a diuretic. I mean it’s impossible for it to be this effective. With the twelve shots last night, there is no way that it managed to make the 6 glasses of mixer disappear inside of me. Oh I forgot about the bubbly as well. I forget a lot of things.

The drinking by yourself thing at your desk at night while trying to come up with written pieces, concepts and ideas is a classic of the creative type. This is usually the beginning of a downward spiral. Mine is more of a level spiral as I keep it to within certain levels. I don’t stray too far off the path. I mean it’s quite often in life that you can create your own path. I quite like that. It makes me feel like a wood feller cutting a stellar path through the forest, in search of sunlight and fresh berries.

And then just as you think the path is clear, you see a deer munching on some sort of vegetation. And little gnome type people in their own little community. Little gnomes running around shouting “I’m a little gnome, I don’t have a home, I live under a stone and my girlfriend likes to moan” I’m particularly off the hook today as I think there might be traces of alcohol mingling deep within me. That explains the writing.

I mean that whole thing there with the deer and the gnomes actually had no real life resemblance, I just went off the track a bit. I like to tell myself little stories from time to time as entertainment, and that was just a glimpse of one of the stories I tell myself. I won’t lie, when I tell myself these stories I can actually see everything clearly. Right now I can picture the deer, but the sun is right behind it, and it is blurring out most of the deers face because it’s so bright. But I can see the deers eyes…all big and goggly. What a pretty deer. It would make a nice pet. It can chill with the rottweillers at SLXS.

You should probably not let your kids read this. If your kids ever have any sort of creativity inside them, they tend to end up like this. If they ever say they want to be a writer or an artist or anything creative whatsoever, you must warn them against it. Because they will sit inside for hours playing with their own thoughts and then write things like this, or do stupid paintings that will sell for millions of pounds…but only once they die. I always see art as a weird thing. Most artists of old used to sit inside drinking Absinthe, make a mess of a painting and then probably just throw it aside in a drunken rage while they trash their room.

Absinthe and drugs create a “Starry Night”

Art is twisted and people think WAY too deeply into it. Open THIS LINK in a new window(Right click, open in new window) and read the stuff they wrote about Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” Firstly, from the looks of the painting, Van Gogh was tripping on acid while painting it. I bet you that the paint is actually mixed with blood that came from himself, after crushing a glass of Absinthe with his hand. From the write up given on the painting, the art critics or whatever they are, were tripping on acid as well. To quote:

One should also note the interaction between the streamlines formed in the flow over the eleven stars as well as the boundary layer created above the mountains- all in all, a painting showing how art serves to illustrate scientific concepts.

Well I am shattered! I seriously have no comment here. I always have a comment on something but this has me broken. This could well be the end of the road for me, reading something like this. Imagine what people would say if they looked deeply into my writing? They would love it! I would be labelled and sent to solitary confinement! Or they would somehow, from my writing, say that I am leaving cryptic messages into how the world was created.

But wait, let me have a quick art critic look into this painting. From the way the sky is curling around the stars, it looks like waves are crashing. This signals the ocean. The stars and the ocean together, mans most natural form, it’s life at it’s most organic. This CLEARLY signals something deeper into why stars die out, but can still be seen from earth for ages after their death. It also signals that when a star dies, a wave crashes, and makes a surfers day. So every time you surf a wave, you in effect kill a star. How could you?! Also the name “Starry night” refers to the stars Van Gogh was seeing that night. He had stars in his eyes from the drink. We call it a classic “blackout”

I think the only thing keeping me alive at the moment is Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Have you ever seen the rain?” playing on my iPod. Which at the moment is sitting on my pretty Fight Club-ish iBod. It’s a scene out of a movie I tell you. I also have the TV on, and I’m watching Dum and Dumbre on a CD. The computer sits perched on my six pack. It’s hilarious how the little things amuse me. This movie is cracking me up! The part where he tries to find the name of Mary, and finds it on her bag as “Samsonite” Classic! I would laugh harder but the pain runs deep today.

I also have a copy of Blades of Glory next to me. And when I hired a DVD last night I got an old one free so I snapped up Zoolander. I’m about to watch it now. Because it’s alright to be really really ridiculously good looking. And we can all die in a freak gasoline fight accident. Maybe not all of us can reed and rite good eether. These movies are probably going to be late because I hired them last night but never got round to watching them because I was so thirsty. More fines…oh joy.

And it’s Friday of course. There is Tiesto tonight. Debauched. Tomorrow there is rugby victory at Neighbourhood. And then Sunday…Oh I hate Sundays! They are so boring. Everyone goes and does the whole family thing, and sleeps, and…what do we do on Sundays? I usually sit around with a drink entertaining myself. I play with the dogs. I try make up stories in my head. I play cops and robbers with myself. I burn incense. I light candles. Whatever. I sms people to see if they reply. They don’t. Maybe we should all do the beach on Sunday.

Or at the very least the pool at Kelvin Grove?

Decisions decisions. I’m probably out for the weekend so I will check back in on Monday. If you see me crying at Neighbourhood on Saturday after the World Cup, don’t stare. It will make me cry even more. I’m also quite self conscious and don’t really like people staring at me. But obviously if you are one of my readers, stare all you like. I need to know that someone cares. You can buy me a drink if you like as well. We can have a toast.

I think tomorrow might deserve a little champagne breakfast by myself. Obviously with no breakfast though. I’m still debating this issue. One of many currently mulling inside my head. Or as I like to call it, “The SLXS Launch Pad”

You stay classy Cape Town. And planet earth.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

So it turns out that I cracked the nod to the launch of Twenty cigarettes at Workshop 17 at the V&A Waterfront in Cape Town on the 13th of October 2007. I must be honest, after the Pastis Blowout, I was terribly broken. Not even that, I was like a destroyed person. It always sucks when you have a party like the Pastis Blowout, where you have so much fun that afterwards real life seems average and boring. I can see why movie stars go off the rails, because they attend smash up parties all the time, and then how can you go back to real life? How can you actually enjoy watching the sunset, or the butterflies in the park?! How can you enjoy drinking water?

I’m still having withdrawal symptoms from the party, and at the moment I’m sitting by myself at the computer thinking “Will I party like that again?” I’m looking at the bottle of Absolut, but it’s not getting opened. Not at this moment at least. I hope I do party like I did at Pastis again, otherwise I’m not sure how I will cope. I will probably get writers block and self destruct.

I won’t even lie to you, I was extremely tired for this party from the previous night, and stood around staring blankly as though my life was about to fall apart! So I really won’t say too much about the party, other than to post some photos and tell you about the launch of Twenty cigarettes. Well I guess you can buy them now! These events are crazy because the cigarettes are free, and on arrival we were given three tickets with “20 drinks” printed on them.

At first I gave out a loud yelp as I realised I was going to be getting 60 drinks for myself! Then it dawned on me that this was not really going to happen. What did happen is that one ticket got me 2 beers free, so in total I could have had six for free. I only had two, because after that I was already sleepy…I was so weak.

We had a session from Ready D, who was spinning the life out of that vinyl! He goes crazy and spins with his chin, his elbows and he was even mixing it up backwards. Literally every person was standing still while he was playing, just watching him performing on the massive screens mounted around the venue. It was quite a display.

Phat Jack, Roger Goode and Fresh also made appearances and I saw comedian Cokey Falkow walking around. I was too tired to be excited though.

Oh no…it’s happening…my most feared thing in life…writers block…

Do I have to entertain ALL the girls ALL the time with my wicked sense of humour? I think I do 

Apparently about 45 people attended the launch of Twenty cigarettes 

Roger Goode making the ladies underwear fall off. From behind the decks!

Sean Lloyd

Editor

So it’s nearly time for this again…it’s been 12 years! I have literally only made sure that my body made it this far in life so that I could cry with my mates when I see our boys lifting the William Webb Ellis trophy high into the air after destroying England in the rugby World Cup final. I’m not joking, I’m going to cry like a little kid who has just had his candy taken away. What? I have kept the excess to within reasonable levels to make this day.

Well I was deciding on where I should watch the South African victory on Saturday and all of Cape Towns night clubs have been sending me messages on my Motorola Rizr V3(Worst phone ever), and I have been undecided…sort of.

See the Incredible Schalk in action

We went to watch the game this past Sunday at Neighbourhood in Long Street in Cape Town. And it is THE place to be. Look, I could be paid to say this, but I’m not. Although it may sound like it because I found out yesterday that a friend of mine, well, her brothers own the place or something. Well well! Hook an editor up!

But Neighbourhood literally is the greatest place. It’s very new, and everything feels like it would at home. Nice leather couches, tables designed for drinking and chatting at, and then there are the assortments of other things. Like a library of sorts and they also have all types of board games to play apparently.
So for the final on Saturday the boys at Neighbourhood have gone completely excessive. They are having four plasma screens and two big screen projectors, with one being on the balcony. So wherever you are in Neighbourhood, you should be able to see Habana score an intercept try and dive over the line like he has wings.

From what I saw on Sunday, the curly fries seemed to be the hot ticket on the menu. EVERYONE was eating them! No doubt I will be eating them on Saturday. Order them, because it’s like paying your TV license, it’s the right thing to do.Actually it’s even more right than paying your TV license.

So if you want the best place to watch South Africa win the rugby World Cup, meet us at Neighbourhood on Saturday, I will be there way before the game starts at 9pm. Say hi, let’s drink, let’s eat and when we win we can cry.

Seriously you have to be there. Remember when you were young, and someone said “Invest in this company, it’s going to go through the roof” And your R20000 could have turned into retirement money, and you never invested it? Well if you don’t go to Neighbourhood on Saturday you will probably get the same feeling of despair that you did then. Let’s not make a mistake this time.

That’s good times folks.

Be where?

Neighbourhood

163 Long Street

Cape Town

South Africa

Sean Lloyd

Editor

El Sandenbergh, Dirty Sanchez and Robert Downey Jnr 

One day you are sitting around teaching the co-anchor to read, write and eat Purity baby food, and the next moment she turns 21. One moment she was saying “Heffalump” and the next moment she turns 21 and we have taught her that it is in fact “Elephant” Ah to be released into the world…

The theme of the 21st, held on the 12th of October 2007 at Pastis in Constantia, was “Anything American”, due to the fact that the SLXS co-anchor(We have a female co-anchor for purposes of diversity…not the old old wooden ship though) is American. So I decided to go as a Mexican. She said “You can’t go as that, it’s supposed to be American” To which I nonchalantly replied, in my head “Ever heard of North America pumpkin tits?” Clearly not wise to the geographical positions of various parts of the world. Very cute. Cuddly even.

Anyway, the night started off at Casa del Sandenbergh(AKA The Hout Bay Palace), where I was to meet Alain and JJ, the masters of the house. I arrived with a bottle of sparkling and some energy drink, which was punished in literally 15 minutes as Alain and myself decided we were going to tear the night apart, into little pieces, and then destroy and obliterate those little pieces. After getting well and truly on my horse, and deciding that the party was going to be my sunset, I rode towards it. Casa del Sandenbergh is not a place for tea and biscuits. It is a place that was put on this earth for the purposes of large scale excess.

The trip to Pastis is a quick one from Casa del Sandenbergh, and we were there in a flash with the driver. I will now refer to ourselves as the characters we went as. Sean Lloyd, your editor, as Sanchez. The Dirty One. AKA Dirty Sanchez. Mike Pearson AKA BMP as John Rambo. Two tickets to the gun show included. Jaco as a washed up American movie star. AKA Robert Downey Jnr. We were all set for a night of debaucherous proportions.

Upon entry to the famed Pastis in Constantia, we were met by a sight that clearly the doctor had ordered. The waiters from Pastis were standing there with an assortment of shooters. Red, white and blue. We were ordered to take one. I took two. We then literally walked another two metres and were ordered to take another shot. This was ridiculous! I mean I’m not a drinker…but once it hits your lips it’s just so good! It was like choosing the pills in The Matrix, only these ones just made us all hilarious and then later we would fall down the stairs going to the bathroom. Seriously, have a good look at the stairs leading to the bathrooms at Pastis. Innocent until tackled liquored.

We walked in and said our hello’s to everyone including Bevvy, brother Che, Debs, Mary, Britter…the whole crew literally. I felt like a rock star as I walked in and everyone wanted to say hello to me. I think they were all just drunk though. I NEVER get that type of reception. Ever. The last time I got good reception like that was on my cellphone.

I think a night like this, where 80 or so people are invited,and the whole of Pastis has been booked, and there is an open bar, (Cue Farva in the movie Super Troopers shouting “Open bar dude!!!”) it is always going to end in tears. I mean, if it’s free, then it’s for me! You are inclined on nights like these to start smashing vodka Red Bull right from the start, without warming up lightly. This in addition to the sparkling and USN Energy Spike that I was being served at Casa del Sandenbergh. On such an auspicious occasion, nobody was even invited if they were not going to go tits off. We literally had free reign of the bar and the words “Jager bomb” were probably the nights most popular.

Sober. Notice the infant co-anchor in the photo on the back wall. Cuddly. 

I’m still tempted to do the “Jager Atom Bomb” Seriously, I made this up and it’s the first time you will hear it. It’s obviously completely OTT and excessive, but that’s why you read SLXS, correct? You take a standard bucket that you use for washing floors, and put it in a black trash bin. Not the municipal ones from Cape Town, but the smaller ones. You then fill the washing bucket with Jager(About 5 litres I guess) and then top the black bin up with Red Bull to be level of the washing bucket. BOOM!

You have a Jager Atom Bomb. Also called a JAB, because it will JAB you in the side and most probably leave a lasting bruise. Or at least it will JAB your kidney out.

Back to the party…We all arrived with our A game. Not only that, we all had our game faces on. Later on in the night, it would feel as if I had fallen off my face, which I indeed had.

One of my highlights of the night was yours sincerely stumbling down the treacherous stairs to the Pastis bathroom, and someone with a decent sense of humour had switched the ladies and guys signs around. Now it’s not that I have not visited Pastis before, but in the state I was in, I went into the girls bathroom anyway. Which was labelled to be the guys..Something should have struck me as odd when I walked in.

For one, there was only one toilet. There were no urinals. And there were rose petals everywhere. I still remember saying in my head “Wow, this is quite pretty” Which was a weird thing to think, being a man who built the Eiffel Tower out of brawn in addition to inventing the wheel.

I swayed into the bathroom, and went about swaying while I was going about my business. Now you might not want to hear this, but in order to be taken on a journey through Cape Town by me, I think we need to know a bit about myself. I’m not afraid to give you some details of my life, if it helps you understand my writing better.

The Dream team. The Editor, Charlie V and BMP. 

Maybe I missed the toilet a bit and you know…hit the floor. I was cool with this though because in my eyes it was a guys bathroom. Guys are cool with this. So I zipped up, without catching anything in the YKK zipper( The worlds largest zip manufacturer according to Wikipedia) You are probably using a YKK zip as I speak. Have a look. Come on, get down there and look. You know you want to.

I then walk out of the toilet…and my mind was nearly blown to little pieces. Two stunners (No names…just letters of their first names…T & D) had walked into the girls bathroom, and as I came out of the toilet, they just stared at me. I had no idea what to say. I was like a deer in the headlights. I mean, I was ready to run. I never even said anything to them, I just left. Now they were going to go into the bathroom and think that I am a complete disaster. Firstly, I use the girls bathroom, then I go mess the bathroom up. Way to gain popularity! Why does it always rain on me? You know what…this could make quite a catchy tune. Maybe even start a band called…off the top of my head…Travis? And then sing a song called “Why does it alway rain on me?”

No that’s actually a pathetic idea, that would never work.

But this is what happens at these 21st birthdays, things just tend to get crazy. It started at 7pm(And we were there promptly), with compulsory shooters on arrival and an open bar. How can this night end up being normal?

Further into the night after having more Red Bull than was necessary, I went outside to where the Entourage was sitting, and I started doing my famous Ali impression, where I bang a table, and then shout “The champ is here! The champ is here!” Somehow, in the process, I managed to cut my finger on a piece of broken glass, or a splinter, and the blood rush was hectic. For a while though I never knew that my finger was cut. So I just kept hitting the table, when suddenly felt that my hands were wet. I had been hitting the cut on the table, and now blood had sprayed all over my white shirt(By this time my poncho was off as it was a little hot)

I must have looked like something out of a horror movie. This did not stop me from going to Claremont later in the evening with the same shirt. Come to think of it, it’s quite disgusting. I should probably not tell all of you about it. But you need to know a little bit about me. I mean, for the most part I am a man of mystery so I can reveal little details. Sorry to those people who saw me on the night. Apologies to the Tiger Tiger bouncers for trying to get in like that!
With parties like this…It’s just that…one moment you are on the dance floor thinking you are Brad Pitt…and the next moment people are staring at you like you are an arm pit(Heads up to BMP for that!). And that’s the predicament I was in.

‘Ello Da’ling! Checking the co-anchor for proper form. About average. 

The speeches are blurry…I remember Brit’s father saying something of how when she was young he used to take her to the pub, and this is clearly where her drinking pedigree comes from! Literally a drinking pedigree to put many of us to shame. I am continually shamed when my head starts spinning and I make a quick exit.

I also remember dancing with Jerry D, literally grinding into him. Sexy times. Someone even came over to me in the night and said, in a round about way, if Mike was my boyfriend, after I was dancing with Mike like a cheap stripper. There was also the dance with Bev where I bent over and pretty much dropped her. Sorry Bev! She is so tiny though, like the smallest little infant child. Then I danced with Debs and who knows else. I pretty much danced with everyone. Apologies all around, my dancing is quite bad and quite disturbing for young kids to see. Give them eyepatches and put the ear muffs on.

The co-anchor let me know well before the party that there would be helium balloons on the ceiling, and I remember telling her that people would start inhaling them during the evening. She warned me that we were not to do this. But that’s like telling Charlie V to “Not press the red button” Give him 5 minutes and he will press it! So by the time the party was teetering off, literally 133 balloons had vanished from the ceiling. I was popping them, putting them in my shirt to make myself look pregnant and inhaling them at a rapid rate. I can’t remember how many I inhaled over the evening. Ten?

There are parts of the night that elude me, almost as if they have been Photoshopped from my vast memory. If I do find them, I will post them right here!

Pastis is the ultimate hangout though, and it does not feel like a bar or restaurant, but rather it feels like home. I will do a proper write up once I go there when it is normal trading hours i.e. No open bar and when it is open to the public.

For the evenings shindig, Pastis did the catering of the food, and it was…AWESOME! I’m not joking, some of the best food around. Look, I was ten drinks down so…But really it was brilliant and you should try it.

But in the meantime get down there, it’s a great spot.

Here are the details:

Pastis

Shop 12

High Constantia Centre

Constantia Main Road

Constantia

7800

Western Cape

South Africa

For the Pastis website, click HERE

Sean Lloyd

Editor 

As you all know, not only do I regularly break a mental sweat writing some of these articles, but I also like to break a physical sweat. To honour the tradition of sweating, I was a silly boy and entered myself into the 2008 Cape Argus/ Pick ‘n Pay Cycle Tour. This is a schoolboy error as I don’t yet own a road bike, and having previously ridden 7 or 8 cycle tours on a mountain bike, I know that it is not conducive to having kids one day.

Anyway, a while back there were some rock falls that pretty much destroyed some of the catch fences on Chapman’s Peak. Instead of waiting for people to ask what is happening with regards to the Cycle Tour route passing over Chapman’s Peak, I asked the organisers myself. I asked whether the rock falls would affect next years route, and if there was a major rock fall prior to the race, what plans would be in place to change the route at short notice. I promptly got a reply, and this was it:

In regard to your query about Chapman’s Peak, we can advise that we are in regular contact with the managers of Entilini who are responsible for the maintenance of Chapman’s Peak.

They have advised us that a repair program is underway and that Chapman’s Peak should be open for traffic in the month of December, for the summer season.

We are confident that Chapman’s Peak will be open for the Cycle Tour unless there is some completely unforeseen condition that cannot be predicted at this stage. We are, therefore, planning to take the event over Chapman’s Peak in 2008.

In the unlikely event of a disaster before the event, we have a contingency plan for the route to be diverted over Ou Kaapse Weg.

Hope this addresses your concerns.

Ken Sturgeon

Director: Event planning and management.

So there we have it, if you are riding next years argus Cycle Tour there is nothing to worry about!

Save for numb parts of your anatomy, sunburn, dehydration, broken chains, punctures, complete lack of training, complete lack of the right equipment and a hangover to kill a a large cow, I predict that things are going to run smoothly for the SLXS Entourage that decide to take part.

Could you think of a better way to destroy your body on a Sunday? Save for turning into Pete Doherty, I can’t think of a better way

Now isn’t cycling fun? But damn I love it!

Sean Lloyd

Editor