Friends with benefits….

Trav is back guest posting on the blog (soon we’re going to have to add his bio to the Who am I section, he’s basically family now). This time he gets a little bit serious….

Sam

If you really take a listen your friends’ stories of heart break and hurt, you’ll see a pattern that affects both genders.

In my opinion, humans are generally cruel when it comes to issues of the heart. The problem is, those least deserving of the heartache are inevitably the ones that get hurt and thus we create this imaginary wall around our hearts as a self defence mechanism.

Back to the future!

I’m a firm believer that in time, mobile phones and tablet PCs are going to rise up against us, enslaving us and using our blood to fuel power stations so they can keep on recharging.

You’ve heard this before, it’s a similar idea based on a movie called Terminator (the geeks get it).

On most days I keep this fear buried deep down but it has risen to the surface because you see, I’m due for a mobile phone upgrade.

It is terrifying: Blackberry or iPhone… but wait, what is that off in the distance? Hold out for the new Samsung you say?

My concern here is that these “smart” phones are starting to become smarter than me and one day they’re going to strangle me with their charger wire while I sleep.

Mark my words.

New kids on the block had a bunch of hits.

I’ve already shared my rather horrific choice of cheesy one hit wonders that I love to sing along to (One hit wonders & strippers. Everything can be linked to strippers.) … suffice to say that cheese really makes everything taste sound better.

I have an over the pond pal, Tinkerbelle, who shares her tales on the fabulous Laughter is catching. We became blogging pals a few months ago and every week I find a new similarity between us. This week our cheesy music fetish was revealed. I consider boy bands the Gouda (my favourite) of the cheesy music world…. Turns out she does to! And because South Africa has not been blessed with the presence of an international boy band in a while, Tinks decided to descend on That place in my head and share her latest experience with crooning boys who have, on occasion, been known to take their tops off (see, everything can be linked to strippers).

 

When talking about guilty pleasures, I am the professor of the class. My embarrassing eclectic taste in music is heralded far and wide, (in fact, in my office alone if a cheesy song is on the radio and no one knows it, you often see someone head over to my desk and ask me what it is) and I have programmes from concerts that most people would shake their head in shame at.

Not me.

Bros before Hoes

Ever wonder what happens at Bachelor parties?

My mate Trav, who regularly shares his thoughts on That Place in My Head, decided to guest blog again and let us in on a little secret: How to throw the best Bachelor shindig… I’ll let him tell you how:

- Sam

Bachelor parties.

I’m sure most girls wonder about these and some best men are clueless about them (I was one of those a few years ago).

This is purely my opinion – based on past experiences – on how I think it should go down.

One hit wonders. And strippers. Everything can be linked to strippers.

I love music, but I especially love those little jewels that sparkle every so often. “Jewel” isn’t really the right term. They’re more like the Cubic Zirconia that bedazzles a stripper’s bra. Under the dark lighting in the dingy club they glitter and glint – promising you magic.

However, when the lights come on your eyes are drawn to the caesarean scar that graces the belly of the exotic dancer and the gems are nothing more than pieces of cheap plastic sewn onto a garment that now litters the floor, along with cigarette butts and sticky substances we can only hope are spilt alcoholic beverages. You realise you’ve been ogling the boobs of someone’s mom.

Magic gone.

How to write extremely funny blog posts (and a few other fibs)

In a strange twist of fate, a blog post I wrote last year has exploded into some sort of unique cultural phenomena… wait, that’s a lie.

Some sneaky bugger decided to broadcast the link to all their BBM contacts who decided to followed suit, then their contacts followed suit and then their contacts followed suit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

     Yes, I crudely edited these in paint. (BTW, thanks Sons for the love)

All this is very exciting for a narcissist like me. After nearly one year of bleeding fingers tapping away at my keyboard late at night… um wait, that’s another lie (except the exciting bit).

If we could come back as animals:

My friend Shannon’s gorgeous little girl – all snug for Winter. Read about her mommy adventures – here.

How cute is that outfit? South Africa (where I live when I’m not in the clouds) is moving in to winter. It’s already icy and raining. After seeing that little bear suit I’ve decided I want an adult size one! Best pajamas ever (in an ideal world I’d deign that work attire, but sadly the world refuses to conform to my standards of dress).

If I can’t get the PJs I have decided that, in my next life I’d like to come back as a bear. Here’s why: