Once again the ever elusive, exclusive, enigmatic iBob was in to save the day yesterday and fix the computer!

The office was whipped into a fury as I ran in chewing gum, kicking ass and taking names! I stormed in and shouted at the top of my whisky strained voice:

” El santo des iBob?”

I had no idea what that meant, or even if it was a real language, but it sounded important and I knew people would take notice. I’m the boss after all. iBob sat up from his lair(iBob knows not the meaning of an “office”) and took in one last sip of his whisky. He dropped his cigarette on the shag pile carpet in the office, while the intern quickly put out the veld fire with a bucket of water. He turned to me, at which time his iPod belted out Bonnie Tylers “Total eclipse of the heart”

“Turn around …”

This man was good even if the song was not as hardcore as the situation demanded. Or as iBob’s reputation demands.

“Torreo rico el gringo?”

“Who you calling gringo? Fix el computero!”

iBob walked to me at a rapid pace and then just stopped on a dime. It was actually a R1 coin but it should have been a dime. He put his healing hand on my computer and the computers STD was cured.

Mine is still raging on and doctors are considering injecting me with nitrous oxide to drive the viruses out.

What I have just written is all a lie and I don’t know where I am. Seriously please stop sending the whisky. When stuff is free I cannot resist.

Seriously though iBob did a great job and I have now given him a pay rise. He now gets two cows a year and a 250ml bottle of DOT4 brake fluid.

Meanwhile I ride in the lap of luxury, sipping the finest cognac while my midget massages my strong back which is cut like a loaf of bread. Not to mention the cheese grater abs.

Look I’m totally losing it here. I spent some time at UCT today, attending a first year lecture in history. For absolutely no reason. I don’t even study but I scoped it out for an article I’m writing when I go to my next lecture. Next time though I’m plying myself with vodka and Red Bull, packing a camera and doing some old school journalism.

Totally illegal? Yes. Way fun? Yeah!

Look I don’t really care what I do around this city, I’m writings outlaw and I can get away with wearing a pink shirt, drinking Savanna while listening to “One night in Bangkok” by Murray Head and still be seen as a hardcore type who scores supermodels as easily as you pour a glass of water.

That reminds me I have to type an interview up.

What a mission! You know what? It’s for your benefit though that’s why I do it.

No jokes it’s 23:56 and I have been hammering the day HARD. At this point it’s important to let you know that I’m fine. I’m alone again but that’s alright. Just because I’m alone does not make me lonely. Like just because some people are rich it does not make them happy.

Look it would be nice if someone was staying over and all, but hey, being here is better than a kick in the teeth. I can kind of hear the ocean( I’m at the beach house tonight, away from my normal ‘hood, “The Bosch”) However the ocean noise is being drowned out at a rapid pace by this song “I just died in your ams tonight”

Good grief I lied back there.

I am lonely! This is playing out like a modern day tragedy. MacBeth had nothing on this story! Even Leo and that girl Kate from that paddle boat “Titanic” had nothing on this.

But I have some cool work coming up and when you people send me e-mails praising my witty rhyming styles and my total control of the english language, then I feel loved again.

Listen sweetheart take this whisky away, I’m trying to take my readers on some sort of guilt trip because sometimes I’m a perpetual liar.

I think I should sit the next couple of drinks out, Hunter.

Chat later

Hugs, kisses and all the rest(Oh and to the guys, a manly high five and a tequila)

Sean Lloyd

Editor

Sometimes e-mails come through that just really ignite my life. Those e-mails where you want to stand up, put your fist in the air and shout “Victory!”

Anyway I received an e-mail today from Warren Z informing me that he actually had a video of the dancer I spoke about at the John Digweed event. He OWNS this video on his phone. Basically it’s his to look at anytime he likes. He was at the Joburg John Digweed event, and this dancer we spoke of was there. Almost unbelievable.

So after a couple of e-mails Warren decided that a YouTube posting of this was in order. I watched it. I’m excited. She is really QUITE beautiful! And she’s not one of those super skinny girls who falls over in the South Easter. I don’t like those.

I mean if they are bashing down my door I won’t say no, but you get the point of it all. My criteria for dating and relationships are quite strict. I say “Are you male?”

If the answer is “Yes” then I reply “No”

If the answer “No” then I reply “Yes”

I’m joking! Stop e-mailing me telling me that I’m filthy. You’re filthy! Sending me photos of yourself on a llama and all.

I got lost there in the excitement of it all. SO…My wife must look like this. I have just given the direct link because YouTube videos often slow down the site. That’s a lie but without my computer technician iBob I can’t even open my own drinks. Let alone bother about putting videos on here.

Now see her live

Click URBAN WAVE SUPER SEXY DANCER to be directed to the video. Seriously do it NOW. You won’t regret it. I didn’t.

If anyone wants to donate anything to Warren for his efforts(Booze etc) then e-mail me and I will put you in contact.

And while we are at it someone get the man a Pulitzer and an Oscar for Best Picture.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

I thought now would be a good time to remind you all of The Warehouse Project on Thursday 20 March 2008 taking place at The Old Biscuit Mill in Woodstock which is in Cape Town. Someone said there is a public holiday on Friday. I was not aware that there were any other days in the week. Isn’t every day a public holiday? What? People work in offices?

That’s hectic.

It looks like it could be electric at The Warehouse Project and things are sure to go pear shaped. You would be making a definite schoolboy error by going ANYWHERE else on Thursday.

“Oh yeah but my mom is down from Scotland and Thursday is her last night and it’s a family dinner”

La la la I can’t hear you SHUT UP! Get your mom a ticket as well.

Let’s quickly recap on who is playing that we can dig:

Prime Circle, Dirty Skirts, Dean Fuel, Ready D, Roger Goode, Lady Lea and Nick E Louder. There is something mental like 35 DJ’s playing.

Enough said.

On the topic of The Old Biscuit Mill, I regularly go to The Neighbourhood Goods Market. It’s amusing and quite entertaining. I took some photos there last year and stuffed around the entire time. It was classic though because there was this massive pile of horse shit, and this one kid was so amped to go and play with it but his mom was having none of it. So he just stared at it, the way I would stare at a bottle of beer that someone won’t allow me to drink.

It’s that look of utter despair as you realise that you want it, you NEED it, inside you, but someone is telling you “No!” Kids are so funny.

Mmmmm good!

Also of interest at The Neighbourhood Goods Market is the “Bread lady” She is quite hot.

They were pointing at my piece

“Sir I have seen you here before, aren’t you allergic to wheat?”

“Ah yeah…no…yeah…just buying some anyway…for the digs house”

I have never really purchased any bread from her but I have spent a lot of time at the bread trailer. Not in a stalker way. Just in a “I love the smell of freshly baked bread” It’s true…

For those of you this way inclined, you can buy ’shrooms at The Neighbourhood Goods Market. Apparently they are the ones used for cooking though and in no way are they “magic” Which is a little disappointing because they are MASSIVE and look DELICIOUS. So if you like a bit of ’shrooms in your food, the best ones are at The Old Biscuit Mill. Look at the size of those things, amazing.

Tasty but won’t Vortex you

That was a bit of a random post but have you seen the weather today? That combined with Derek Watt’s halting global warming last night had made my head all ca-razee!

Oh for The Warehouse Project here is what you need to know:

Venue: The Old Biscuit Mill, Woodstock, Cape Town.

Date: 20 March 2008

Time: 18:00 until 4:00

Pricing: VIP tickets are R204 from Computicket

Regular tickets are R124 for general access from Computicket

Pricing at the gate: VIP is R220

R140 for everyone else.

Click COMPUTICKET to book your tickets

Now let’s all get naked.

I already am.

You’re not?

I’ll bite that La Senza off.

Weird.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

Humour that excites me does not come along very often and I subscribe to a very rude, disgusting sense of humour. If you make me laugh you know you are sick. In a good way! I derive much pleasure from movies such as Superbad and Anchorman and the like.

My friends and I often joke that when international DJ’s are coming to Cape Town we are going to get them to sign our KOK’s. We swear a lot, but in a good way. Like Bernie Mac swears in The Original Kings of Comedy.

But Derek Watts made a mockery of everything last night. I nearly forgot to write this until a friend reminded me of the situation we found ourselves in last night right at the end of Carte Blanche. Derek, probably drunk on whisky and slipping himself a roofie, decides that a line from Anchorman is necessary. I mean, he IS Derek watts and he can do anything he likes.

Derelict: Enjoys himself. And humour.

Derek basically dominates Sunday night in everyones lives. Think about it, every Sunday at 7pm everyone who has M-Net watches Derek on Carte Blanche. This earns him a good dose of street cred and he can basically pull any chick he likes, while at the same time eating a boerie roll and klapping back a beer. Welcome to Derek’s world. It’s sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll. Only better. It’s Derek, sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll.
Now last night must have been a dare because it was too funny. Hysterical even.

Derek quietly throws this pearler in at the end of the show:

“You stay classy South Africa”

Like he is actually Ron Burgundy! Like he believes in all the hype about himself! Good Lord Derek, you are off the rails buddy!

And then after this the show just ends. I sat there absolutely dumbstruck. I was getting off the couch and had not realised the enormity of the situation until a few moment later when everything sunk in.

Derek had just uttered the most iconic line in movie history, with absolute ease. As if he was born into that role.

That type of confidence comes from being a South African PLAYA! I was wondering what that noise was the whole show. I now believe it was Derek’s gold cross on his chest, which kept colliding with the diamond cross on his neck. Not to mention his Jacob the jeweller watch that could break someones face in half.

Derek I’m buying you a beer, you are South Africa’s biggest legend.

On a side: I’m currently watching E! Entertainment and Kim Kardashian is posing nude for Playboy. Hef is popping viagra. Kim has a MASSIVE ass. Like gigantic. Like Mount Rushmore. Still tap that though.

Because I can.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

Saturday saw Oriental Plaza in Cape Town playing host to John Digweed. And myself.

John Digweed

We arrived in a blaze of glory and realised that the parking situation was in a bit of a state and so ended up parking on the border of Yemen which seems to be situated near Lake Como which is in Mexico.

The queue to get in was also quite lengthy but lucky for us we had packed a water bottle full of…um…water?

Rolled in, saw the night disappear into a vodka and Red Bull fog and then quietly left when we looked around and noticed that everyone else had actually left and we were a couple of lone stragglers on the dance floor.

Special mention goes to that dancer. Anyone who was there on the night knows who she was. Yeah the one with the dark hair. The super sexy one. Not sure if she was real though. A picture will refresh your mind perhaps young Sir? Bit poor picture quality, but hey it’s better than a kick in the teeth.

Good grief!

Other cool things were the dancers with those disco ball things who played nicely with the lights all night.

The only problem were the toilet queues and I found myself walking out of the venue and pissing into the wind. The wind was coming from every direction and it’s a miracle I didn’t just piss all over myself.

Great success otherwise, as usual, can’t quite recall what went on but it was good judging by the size of the headache. And it’s the Two Oceans Half Marathon this weekend, awesome.

I’m in poor form today, do excuse me.

I’m already drinking Badger Milk in preparation for this weekend.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

Someone said to me the other day that I had been really lazy in coming up with stupid stuff lately and that all I seem to do is party. And then after that party. And then have a drink. It’s all lies really and I was on track with some Two Oceans Half Marathon training until I got sick last week. Which was probably from too much partying but let’s ignore that for a moment.

People say I should do more in depth funny articles. I have been contemplating these for a while and there are some ideas coming into my head right now which might present themselves here in the near future:

Drunken bird watching

Will I pass my drivers test again?

Some interviews

Anyway I decided to get cracking on the interviews thing and managed to track down Gary Busey for a little chat.

Gary kind of does all sorts of things and I thought you would be interested in what he is up to at the moment. Most of you probably know him but for those who don’t, you will learn more tomorrow when I post the interview. Great success!

Whatever it’s actually not Gary Busey it’s someone else, but similiar thing. It’s an interview. It should silence the critics.

I hope this silences those of you who keep asking me to do more “work” I don’t know if you are on crack or anything, but telling me to “work” is just crazy.

Because I don’t know karate. But I do know ca-razy!

In light of this work thing, my travel company Siyabona Africa made me laugh the other day. They wanted my expertises in writing something for them. I don’t know what it was but it could have been a travel package, or a press release, or something else. They lost me at “Sean we are going to need you to do some work…” That’s when I shut down.

Come on people, we are leaning towards a Hunter S Thompson lifestyle here, is it that hard to understand?

On a little side note here, I spent an entire day about two or three weeks ago covering an event, of which I am still to write about. I’m just waiting for maritime security to get off my case and hopefully I will also be allowed to gain access into the V&A Waterfront in Cape Town again. Do I really look that dangerous?

If you really want me to cover an event that you are organising and you think I should write about it, then you can contact me. I work on Tuesdays between 2-4pm and if you need me outside these times you can just tell me and I will adjust my hibernating/partying schedule to suit your needs.

So yeah we will be doing more in depth articles soon but I just need to get my head around them and find myself. Which is why I’m going to pick up my brand new fake ID today!

I got it at the same place that Mike Schneider got his.

I should also mention that I have thrown my name out there for some wine tasting in Stellenbosch. The SLXS crew are, as usual, going LARGE. I love wine tasting. Good reason to drink in the afternoon without people telling you to go to AA. It’s cheap as well.

“Shorry waiter can I taste another bottle?”

“Sir you’ve already had four bottles of that variety.”

“Yeah but they all taste different. In fact I want a refund. Your product makes me feel like I’m going to vomit”

“Sir you have ingested enough alcohol to kill a family of seven”

“Ok”

We shall leave it at that.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

I won’t lie to you, I’m like a Superbad whore at the moment. Not as in like a bad hooker, but in the fact that I love the movie Superbad. There are just so many things in there that are so like school days. Such as drawing cocks. I mean we hate to admit it…but come on…everyone drew cocks on the boards at school!

I still remember one classic scene from my school days. We were writing our matric finals and I finished the exam early because I never studied and actually had no idea what to write on the paper, so I just waited an hour until they would let me leave. So I was one of the first guys out and I cruised into the parking lot and saw my mate Jeff’s car there.

Naturally I wanted to draw cocks on it, but just drawing them on the dust on the car seemed too elementary. So I took out my Pritt glue and drew cocks all over his car and then threw sand on them. Childish, but when you have just failed a final exam…hilarious!

Imagine trying to wash a sand and glue mixture off your car without scratching it? Quite a task. Probably one of the reasons why Jeff is now in London. But while he is pasty and cold, I’m bronzed and HOT. It’s no big deal really. You know…enjoy life over there JEFFrey.

I wonder what those dirty Rustenburg girls drew on the board? Wow they were wild chicks. Nasty too. Sneaking into the boarding house, the “Whoreding house”

I must stop I’m going to get into trouble with headmasters and all that stuff.

This could get me in a LOT of trouble. Ah it’s not like I’m not in trouble all the time anyway. The near arrest on the ship two weeks ago was interesting. Reminds me…ask me next week to tell you of the story of our ship “trespassing” I do all this stuff for you people. Seriously I do.

There are classic parts in Superbad, like parking in the staff parking lot and thinking you own the place. Then walking away and going ” Fuck it, I’m about to graduate, they should be sucking on my ballsack!” Ahahahaha ha ha ha! It’s too funny and I think we all did something similiar in school.

But the most classic person is McLovin. That man is now a legend. He is inspiration to all those nerdy guys at school who only came right when they sat on their hands and they went numb, and then…

McLovin has so many similarities to those guys who spent their break times in the Red Brick Quad. Honestly, there was a quad at my school called the “Red Brick Quad” We used to call the guys in the quad the “Red Brick Quad Squad”

The day BMP threw a black dustbin lid over the roof and nearly hit them was comical. Or the day Jules emptied a dustbin of water on them was pure hilarity! We were SO mean.

Honestly I have changed. I’m good now. Seriously…

So what I wanted to tell you was there is a competition now running and it’s called “Are you SA’s Superbaddest icon?”

You need to send in your Superbaddest MMS, drawing or video clip and you could win a trip to Ibiza. An example of something Superbad is this:

Oh yeah Jules!

I’m not sure what I’m going to send in yet, but I’m sure I will think of something good.

That photo of me in a white Speedo on Clifton has been a Cape Town favourite for many years, but I think it might be a bit too sexual to be “Superbad”

So click SUPERBAD to be directed to the site. And if you win let us know about it.

Welcome to the jungle.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

Can you dig the spelling of atmosphere? Radness!

As you know Paul van Dyk played at @Mospheer in Cape Town last week and we were there. Not much to say about it really. I only got home at 5am from Paul van Dyk so that explains the lack of being able to write anything about the party.

I had never been to @Mospheer before and it’s not as big as I thought, but it is nevertheless massive judging by the fact that there were people there who I knew, but I never saw. The day after the party I heard all sorts of people talking about the party and I never saw them. Jagerbombs might have had something to do with that.

The only thing that was not ideal at @Mospheer was the fact that they did not sell Red Bull. Red Bull is your basic requirement in any venue, but @Mospheer have replaced this with Play Energy Drink.

It’s quite possibly the most disgusting energy drink on the market and you have to force drink it.

Protoculture played after PvD and that went on until I left I think. Towards the end I can’t really tell what was going on. Stumbling around, I had lost everyone, alone…not sure where the night went. Here are some photos:

I was MOST impressed with the angel that was dancing right near the front. She literally was an angel as she was wearing angels wings. I had visions of the Victoria’s Secret Angels. I love the dancers at all these events.

Paul van Dyk 

Paul van Dyk behind the decks 

Please enjoy the guy top right standing up on the balcony. I spent a good deal of time up there and he was always standing like that. I was just waiting…one slip…and you’re on the dance floor.

Sean Lloyd

Editor 

This is possibly the most blind thing that has ever happened to me.

As many of you will know, John Digweed is playing in Cape Town on Saturday night and SLXS will be smashing it out there.

So I get an sms yesterday from the organisers saying that I must reply to the sms with names of guests that I would like to bring in. I did this but then still kept getting sms’s saying that I should reply.

I then decided to send my party liaison a message asking him what was going on. Accidentally though I replied to the message from the Digweed organisers. Please enjoy this remarkable reply, and this is no joke, I still have the message saved in my outbox. Here it is:

“Hey son are you still getting urban wave reminders? I sent my details in and got a confirmation reminder but still getting messages from them. I’m getting John Digweed to sign my KOK”

I hope you can understand the beauty of that message. It’s fantastic!

Getting international DJ’s to sign my kok is kind of the in joke here at SLXS. Basically when anyone comes down here such as Tiesto or Paul van Dyk, I send all my friends messages saying “I’m going to get so and so to sign my KOK”

I can’t explain why I do it, but it reminds me of school where everyone used to draw KOK’s on the chalk boards. No one knew why they did it, or why it was so funny, it just was.

So now they have that message on their database and I’m probably going to be denied entrance to the event. And John Digweed will be surrounded by security in preparation for “that security breach weirdo who wants his KOK signed”

It’s actually so blind it’s unbelievable.

It reminds me of the time when I was at college and I got an sms from the college database thing reminding me of something important.

I politely replied “I wish they would just f%*k off!” Naturally I was supposed to send it to a friend who was in my class, but send it to the college. Luckily you can’t really reply to their number because they won’t be able to read the message.

Urban Wave however do read these messages. I might be in a small predicament here.

Sean Lloyd

Editor 

Living in Cape Town you will see your fair share of models. All the models live here and it’s a fairly cosmopolitan city. Naturally vanity comes into play here and it’s often quite hilarious to just observe how vain some people really are. Ha ha I see all these things happen all the time! Seriously most of you will have done one of these things on this list.

This is the SLXS guide to knowing if you might in fact be vain. If you at least crack a sly grin while reading this, you might be vain.

Open the passenger window

You might drive a car without an airconditioner and so the need to open the windows on a hot day comes into play. However, being really into yourself and your looks, you don’t want the wind messing up your hair. So you open the passenger window to cool the car down without messing up your hair. A trick employed by the elite of the vanity crowd.

Using two mirrors

Before leaving the house your hair needs to be in immaculate condition. Not content with looking good from the front, you want your hair to look perfect all around. So once you have styled your hair you get another mirror to check the back of your head. Bang you know it. You’re so vain.

The rear view mirror

You regularly get hooted at in the car because the traffic lights go green and you are busy looking at yourself in the rear view mirror.

You might also find yourself looking at yourself in the rear view mirror while driving. When you look back at the road you get a shock, because you realise that your eyes have been off the road for more than 10 seconds and you could have in fact had an accident.

Your portrait on your desk

Your work desk only has one photo. And it’s of you. Yes, you’re so vain!

Your reflection

You walk past windows(Car windows, shop windows) and try and catch a glimpse of yourself to check that you still look good.

You also cannot for the life of you walk past those mirrors in Cavendish Square(The ones next to the elevators) without looking at yourself and touching your hair.

You also use your sunglasses reflective coating to check your reflection, to see that you are looking good.

Taking photos of yourself

In the absence of a mirror, you use the camera on your cellphone to take a photo of yourself, inspecting it to see that, yes, you are so vain.

You check your tan

You constantly compare your tan to others, saying “I’m so tanned, look how pale you are!” You then laugh, as though having a tan makes you a much more accomplished human being.

You take untag Facebook photos

Whether “untag” is a word still needs to be decided, spell check says it’s wrong. Anyway you see a photo on Facebook andsomeone has tagged you in it. You think “Hell NO!” and take the tag off yourself so that the photo won’t show up in your profile.

You only pose in photos

There is no photo of you smiling, or just not looking at the camera. At all times your face is directed at the camera, and you are pulling a Blue Steel. Or a Magnum. You are Derek Zoolander.

Your profile picture

Your profile picture on social networking sites is one of you taking a photo of yourself in the mirror

“You’re so vain, you probably think this post is about you, you’re so vain!”

If you think this post is about you then you are so vain.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

This is not really something that I was going to talk about but I thought it is now necessary.

A couple of months ago I had to renew my cellphone contract. Renewing your cellphone contract is kind of like chaining yourself up in a maximum security prison while Babba looks at you like a rare steak. It’s a 2 year mess of money, money, money and loads of tears when the bill comes.

Anyway… I was renewing my contract and the lady at the counter said:

“Oh sir we are running a promotion and you get a free digital camera with your contract”

I was not that impressed because I already own a digital camera. Anyway I said:

“Cool, if it’s free it’s for me”

So she went into the back and came out with this digital camera that looked all very nice. Cellphone contracts take forever to renew and by now Kauai opposite the cellphone shop was looking like a sure deal while they filled in 1,2 million forms and asked for my signature as though I was a superstar. Wait…I’m a megastar. So she handed me over the camera and it looked delicious enough to eat.

Then some more forms and she then said:

“Sorry sir I seem to have made a mistake”

“Jesus wept” I LOUDLY shouted in my head

“What’s happening?” I said, sure that, like a fat kid, I was about to have my choc-chip cookies taken away from me.

“I’m actually supposed to give you a video recorder”

“Oh sick, hand it over bitch!” I never really said that but it sounds like something they would say in an American teen movie.

She handed me over this little beauty, probably the most beautiful thing I had touched all year other than myself.

All the usual rubbish happened and I took it home and never opened it because I’m not good at reading instruction books and all.

Less than a week later I get a call from the lady:

“Hi Sean have you opened the video recorder yet?”

“Um no it’s still in the box” I replied, unaware that she wanted it back.

“Well I actually made a mistake and I was supposed to give you the camera, not the video recorder. If everything is still in the box would it be possible to return it? Otherwise I have to pay in the difference which is quite a bit”

“Uh you know what I actually remember giving the video recorder to my brother to keep and I think it’s at his dig’s house. I can call him and see if they have used it or not”

“That would be great, can I call you back later?”

“Yeah sure go for gold” I said.

A few hours went by as I knew I was being the biggest idiot on the planet by not giving the recorder back. There was a twinge of guilt…but also a bit of excitement as I realised all my life I had been a pretty decent person. And sometimes you just want to break the law and stand on people, and steal shit. I kept saying “It’s not that bad, it’s not like you killed someone”

That made me feel better and I was ready for the call later in the afternoon.

“Well actually the video recorder is not open so you can have it back” I told her.

“Great! Sean when can you drop it off?”

“Well I’m not just going to give it back to you. I need something in return”

We then chatted and I quietly mentioned a handski would be nice. She said Sir Moosa from the store room was better at this though. I was reluctant at first but I just closed my eyes and pretended it was Gisele Bundchen. So basically I got a handski AND a digital camera!

It was singularly the best cellphone contract ever. It rocked my world.

What did they put in this whisky? Did someone slip me a roof-a-lux? Sorry I don’t remember writing that last part.

No I never got action from her or him, of course I would not do something like that! I mean…I guess I wouldn’t…wait…hold up..I guess…this is bizarre.

So here is the true story. She calls me back and asks about the camera.

“Well actually, and this is most unfortunate, I would dearly love to give it back but my brother has already used it, his digs mates have been using it to put videos on YouTube”

She seemed a little disappointed and I had a massive guilt hangover.

Then finally yesterday I decided to play around with the camera and film some funny shit for SLXS. I turn the beast on and it says “No tape”

I was confused as it was digital. A little more probing and I realised that by some divine act of God, it was not actually a digital video camera, but some old piece of junk tape camera which is the most pathetic thing I have ever heard of. Even more embarrassing is the fact that I told the girl form the cellphone shop that they were loading the videos onto YouTube. Which is not possible on this camera!

Imagine she had caught me out, it would have been the most embarrassing thing on the planet!

“Sir it’s tape, for YouTube you might need digital”

But luckily she was not that intelligent. I mean she had given me a camera, then taken that away and given me a video recorder. Now she was wanting the video recorder back so I was not too worried about her intelligence levels.

So now I’m the idiot, and I should have known this would happen. I’m good all year round, for real, and I do one little thing like this and get punished HARD. At least with the digital camera I could have taken pictures. Now I’m stuck with a tape recorder that I will never use in my life. I think I can take photos with this beast, butfor a camera it’s the size of a small family.

Don’t you just hate it that you try one sneaky thing and it comes back to hit you in the face with a brick? But then there are other people that you remember from school, those arrogant pricks that treat girls like shit, open up dodgy businesses, make a lot of money illegally, eat rubbish and get fat, and they live until like 80.

Here I am pretty decent, put up with all the crap girls give me, eat right and all the rest and one day my wife will probably leave me for a Vietnamese circus midget and I will have a heart attack at the age of 40. Then before my body can be taken away a meteorite will hit it and destroy it and I will fade into oblivion.

It’s cool though, NOT depressing at all.

And even though this is a “product review” I think you can forgive me for not reviewing this piece of junk. It would be worthless because none of you care about tape anymore. It’s all digital these days. Typical cellphone shops- Clean out your bank account, tie you to a 2 year contract and then make you feel better by giving you a “Digital cam” that they know you can’t use. Samsung probably had a clearance sale where they gave cellphone shops all these accessories for free.

It makes me TENSE!

Sean Lloyd

Editor

I remember the old days when Blu Bar(Back then it was Billy the Bums or Sobhar) used to have comedy nights and for some BIZARRE reason I never went to them. But after an absence of what seems like an eternity, comedy nights are back!

They take place on the 1st Tuesday of every month at Blu Bar in Claremont and feature acts such as Cokey Falkow, Dave Levinsohn and Colin Moss.

The first show is on Tuesday 18 March 2008 from 8:30 until 11:30pm with Paul Snodgrass as host and Riaad Moosa headlining.

There is a Facebook event (HERE) and it’s beautiful because it’s called ” Comedy at BLU BAR (Old Sobhar, ex Billy’s)”

And then it goes on to mention “Blu Bar” two or three more times in the invitation. And then someone writes on the wall “What’s it called these days???”

Good Lord you are a stunning person for asking that very useful question.

I’m still not sold on the name Blu Bar though. I don’t know why but I think names have a lot to do with the sort of crowd that you will initially attract. Blu Bar will definitely get more customers now with Comedy Nights and maybe this will entice people to come through on non comedy nights. But the name “Blu Bar” and the blue lighting always reminds me of some sleazy strip club, and I could be hectically wrong, but this is why it does not seem to be as popular as Billy the Bums was.

It’s the main reason I have not yet been to Blu Bar because it does not look very homely and enticing to visit. Why do you think places such as Oblivion and Home Bar in Harfield Village do so well? Because they make people feel comfortable, as though they are at home.

Just a thought.

There is also a Facekoek group for Comedy Night at Blu Bar right over HERE.

No problem.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

I always get a damn rim job when I’m on Holiday.

That shit’s not cheap!

I hear it’s like 50 bucks on Main Road…

Sean Lloyd

Editor 

A while back I went to a raucous wedding where I ended up dancing in my boxer shorts after drinking beer in the jacuzzi. Anyway I found the pants I wore to that wedding in the cupboard today and they were a mess. They have all this white stuff around the ankles. As though a sausage dog dry humped my leg. But it’s actually clay or something.

Anyway realising that they are dirty, I took them into Harrington’s Dry Cleaners to get cleaned. Dry. Anyway I walk in and there is a lady there asking about some Truworths pants she took in that seem to have gotten lost. The lady behind the counter then started making all sorts of excuses and said she would call her back when they find them. Clearly she has no idea where they are and just did not feel like making anymore excuses.

A bit nervous now, I handed over my Hilton Weiner pants and this chick wrote me a slip. She did not say when they would be ready. She did not take down my surname. She did not take my phone number even. She never wrote down what brand of pants they were. Nothing. I’m starting to worry. A lot.

Imagine I had trusted Hugo or Dolce with her.

I’m already scouting for new pants because I think we might have lost Hilton. It’s this type of service that does not inspire confidence in me and also does not give Harrington’s a good name. Why I just never went to Cavendish is bizarre.

I will keep you updated on this one. Until then, this is what we are dealing with. Sorry the picture is a bit poor but the details she took down just say:

Sean

1 black

Hectic to say the least.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

It was a humid Wednesday afternoon in Cape Town and we had ABSOLUTELY nothing to do. As you all know, last Wednesday in Cape Town was seriously hot. And when the temperature behaves in such a way, what is a person to do?

Hit Forres!

Forres is more of an institution really than an actual pub. It’s one of the oldest pubs in Cape Town and the regulars who sit and pot away their time are hilarious to say the least. They are easily identifiable because usually they will be eating steak and chips, or a steak roll and drinking large quantities of beer. Their faces will be red( Booze) and they will just sit there checking out the talent that walks through the door.

If your parents ever went to Forres, then there is no doubt that you will go there too. In fact, there will be times when you will know more of your parents friends than your own friends. I called the beach off yesterday because I was just not feeling it…something inside me said “Sean you need inner cooling”

So I asked Charlie V “Whatever shalt thy do?”

Charlie casually replied “Thou shalt drink. Thou shalt drink until the cows come home”

And so we settled in for some raucous Forres action.

Arriving by ourselves we took a moment to scope out the action. Nice. Behind me, two angels. In front of me, two alcoholic looking guys with red faces. ON my left hand side, a kid with the most massive ‘fro I have ever seen in my life! I wanted to cut a little piece out of it just so he would turn around and say:

“Mr. You mess with the ‘fro, you gotta go!”

He would then roundhouse kick me over the table, my bulky frame snapping the table like a twig.

The first beer naturally went down in a moment. As we got settled in we realised this was not just going to be a “We don’t have anything to do let’s just get one drink to cool off and then go home” type of drink. The stage was now set and we were the performers in a bizarre show of food and drink reviewing. Beer after beer, my basic functions were falling out the window. Charlie V was staring at me as though he wanted to kill me, but I realised that he had just totally blacked out.

We started re-creating movie scenes, unaware of how loudly we were speaking.

“Sean go shag a goat!”

“Ha ha I already have! Come and get it!”

Disapproving stares from all around, especially some of the easier on the eye girls. Not to worry, are you aware who I am? No? Me neither but I do know that I AM drunk!

By the time the waiter came around again it was a dog show. It had turned into full on war as Charlie V and me made the most amount of noise ever. Two guys sitting at a table just going full out with the jokes, aware that people might hate us, but also aware that this amount of beer does not warrant us to sit quietly in the corner like naughty school children.

The waiter came round again and I just wanted to eat the menu when he gave it to me. I was close to gnawing at the table. So Charlie ordered some sort of pizza, absolutely no idea what it was because I can’t remember. I was going to go with something or other, but then the waiter recommended something else.

That’s what I put inside me

Absolutely no idea what it was called but it was some sort of a pita bread with strips of steak and rocket. If it was a person, I would have had kids with it. Oh and there was also garlic. I don’t remember this but some girl who I have never met in my life but later joined our table with another group of our friends and sat down and said “Has someone been eating garlic?”

I did the classic reversal saying “Has someone been eating garlic? Have YOU been eating garlic?”

She looked at me as though I had bird flu. Aware now of the state I was in, I think that sentence might have come out like this:

“Has yoooooooo eating gar…..lick? Someone in the pants parteeeee?”

Naturally I was not a hit with anyone in the near vicinity. My excuse was that this was a paid for food review and I had to bend it out of shape. On the one hand it was a food review, on the other hand it was a display of the drinking Gods like no other. It was actually not even a review, it was just a poor excuse to drink on a Wednesday instead of doing constructive and useful things, such as “freelancing” and “working” and “conceptualising over future references to the online media”

When the food did arrive though it turned into a play and we were the best actors around. At this stage, unable to move our mouths, we had taken to other forms of eating the food. Charlie V hoped that the pizza would somehow, through osmosis, enter his body. Unfortunately this did not work and he had to resort to chewing his food like a respectable member of society. The funny thing was, even after all we had drunk, we seemed to be getting more thirsty, and our mouths were getting dry.

Realising that the pizza needed to be washed down with something, Charlie V came to the logical (At the time) conclusion that Tabasco sauce was going to work wonders.

Naturally it burnt him to such an extent that even more beer was warranted to put out the fire. It was about another two draughts before he would be able to speak. But by this time he could actually not speak.

On the other side of the table from Charlie V, sat the editor, in all his glory. Unable to chew normally, and with a serious case of cotton mouth, he had resorted to playing with the food in his mouth like a silly little child who forgot his Ritalin that day.

Why don’t chicks dig me?

With a display like this from two grown men(Ah yes) people literally thought that we had just escaped from the insane asylum. Which was partly the truth, as work in the vicinity of SLXS has been known to release the child in all of us.

There was one intelligent remark from Charlie V though, and it was something that intrigued me. When girls are out at places such as Forres, how do they manage to sit there, in deep conversation, without once looking away from each other?

There were two smoking hot girls sitting outside, and we noticed that not once did they look around. Like seriously, we were there for hours and they stared into each others the ENTIRE time. And it’s not like they were diesel or anything, they were just really interested in the conversation.

On the other hand, at our guys table people were talking to me and I was chatting on my phone, drinking beer and not listening. I only heard selected words like “What a belter” and “Would you like another drink?”

When asked if I would like another drink I would just pinch my skin. The signs of dehydration include skin that does not spring back, but rather slowly goes back into position.

The waiter looked at me and realised that I was in dire trouble. I had pinched myself all over, and the skin refused to return to it’s natural position. The waiter, who had clearly worked in the trauma unit at a hospital, knew that I needed to hydrate, fast.

Before I could fall off my chair, an ice cold Hansa draught was waiting for me. As I sit here now, I am thankful because I could have died last Wednesday if it were not for his quick thinking. Not every waiter can look at a “patient” and know, without the patient saying a word, what medical attention is needed.

Back to the girls not looking around. We were constantly looking around, just seeing what sort of people were coming in and out of the beer garden. I might add here that the DNA pool at Forres was a good one. Nice touch of fitness, a fair amount of good looks and some very naughty smiles. Oh and that green dress. Thanks for that. Not to mention my table which looked like we had been hit by a freight train.

I was back to basic functions of staring, eating and drinking. I was at this stage unable to string a logical sentence together and was also unable to count my money to pay the bill. I just took out money and threw it at Charlie V. He passed maths in school and I failed. I think he took about R600 from me, and I’m pretty sure the entire bill only came to about R400.

Strange.

On a more serious note I tend to think that Forres do overcharge on certain things. Like R49 for a chicken burger. Then again, they are catering to a more well off crowd(The students there just drink, and if they do eat it’s pizza) I suppose it’s like saying “Caprice is SO expensive” It’s the crowd they cater for. People want to pay to be there and they want to pay for the atmosphere as well.

The rest of this review is lost in translation somewhere as I try and piece my life back together and try and reclaim some of my former reputation. To the people at Forres last Wednesday, we are not always like that. It’s just that we need to celebrate the little things in life. What these “little” things are tend to elude me.

I actually can’t write anymore as the rest of this is a blank. Come to think of it, I think Charlie V tricked me.

You see when I got one of the rounds of drinks, I conveniently slipped him a roofie. However, I think he double tricked me back. He pointed behind me and said “Looks it’s a leopard”

My head shot backwards and then I realised he was just fooling with me. Leopards don’t drink at Forres! But it took me a moment to turn around again.

And that was the moment. Charlie V had pulled the “Switcheroo” It’s that moment when you know a friend has slipped a roofie or a viagra(It’s a good laugh) into your drink, and you swop drinks with him. I fell victim to the switcheroo yesterday.

But Forres as you all know is more of a lifestyle than a pub. It’s a place for alchoholics, for students, for little minxes and for all the old people in between looking for a nice place to relax and blow their pension funds.

Words cannot explain to you how at home I feel at Forres. It’s a place that makes me feel safe, even safer than home. It’s like my caretaker, the place I go when I’m happy just to reassure myself that I am in fact happy. It’s the place where I go when I’m sad, because it makes me happy.

It’s a place for all ages and all seasons, all drinks and all food, all guys and all girls…but more important is the fact that it never changes. It’s always the same vibe and always the same sort of crowd.

Forres you’re my true love.

*tear*

Forrester’s Arms

52 Newlands Avenue

Newlands

Cape Town

021 689 5949

Sean Lloyd

Editor