Hi Neo, you should meet this guy. His name is Themba, he’s vegan. You will love him!

That’s how my friends tried to set me up a few years ago with one of the most boring guys evah. It was enough to bring bloodied tears down my face. People have also tried to set me up with “the black guy” in the group or “the guy from Joburg”, merely because well the guy was black and so am I and the other was from Joburg and so am I, you get the gist. Apparently these were characteristics saucy enough to make me go weak at the knees.

A girl I met this week gave me her winning proposal for romance: “Hey Neo, do you know Sipho? He’s a friend of mine. He went to Bishops. I think you will like him”

Seriously lady? Its bad enough that he went to Bishops!

Matchmaking efforts like this seriously suck.They are as cringe worthy as paisley palazzo pants that are making a comeback and should have all been collected and incinerated in Chernobyl instead.

It’s like chatting to a gay guy and saying "oh you should my friend, he’s fabooolus!"

Please resist the temptation, Dr Strange Love.

I know I may sound like I just had some Pineapple Express, but this song is what I imagine a goblet of wine offered by Dionysus himself tastes like.

Thom, you can do no wrong in my eyes, even if you had me question you there for a second for penning Hearing Damage for that abominable movie.  

It's okay, all is forgiven.

The song, like most of your songs, is Aztec Gold and a firm favourite on my list of best songs EVAH.

I hope to come back in the next life as immovable dandruff on your scalp, so that I know what goes on in your head when you think up these pieces of awesome.

 I’ll put it out to the universe.

I found my replacement for the “new” Arctic Monkeys. We Were Promised Jetpacks is just friggin' sublime.  

I tried to fight their Scottish invasion but it’s impossible. How can I fight something that just makes me smile in spite of myself?

I had no choice but to forgive them for sharing the same nationality as S(hhhhhhhhhhhhh)ean  Connery, the worst James Bond ever. Pah!

Ok, I’ll do as these lads say and I’ll stay calm.

This song is on repeat. Every single day. It’s not the best song in terms of complicated arrangements or deep lyrics but hell it makes me dance when I think no one is watching.

I love the layers of instruments that get introduced with each bar and verse, yet the song remains beautiful in its simplicity. Something amazing happens at 1:08.

I am getting hooked to this UK outfit. Check this one out too.

I am so copying the video chick’s dance moves for the weekend. Find me in the club and watch me handle my biznis.

Will you bite the hand that feeds?
Will you chew until it bleeds?
Can you get up off your knees? 

If you know me really well, then you will know that I am probably one of the most passive aggressive wimps you will ever meet. Sure I smile a lot, mind my own business, and will probably never get in a fist fight with you.  But as the saying goes: diepe water stille grond. 

It’s always the quiet ones that get you in the end.

I did something subversive today that I will not own up to until I am chilling in an old age home some day, taking generous swigs from a concealed hip flask while I reminisce about my youth.

You see, Trent Reznor asked me those three questions today and I said yes to all of them. I did what I had to do and then threw in an air punch for good measure, once I was certain that I had carried off my rebellion well. 

 Check it out; if he doesn’t inspire you to get off the effing assembly line, then I hope he makes you dance.  

Dearest Security guard (Sea Point Clicks Store),

I am generally not a hateful person, but you have left me no choice on this matter. I have tried to defend your behaviour to myself but none of my defences hold up any more. You just SUCK.

You followed me as I walked past every aisle last week, just me and no one else. I thought I was being paranoid so I went to the deserted male grooming section only to see your black bomber jacket sleeve  materialise, in what I presume you think is stealth, at the end of that same aisle.

You always follow me around with that Police Academy  enthusiasm and stupidity.

Hayi mani Security Guard, kanti what is your beef with me?  Do I fit the profile of a thief that you have been briefed on by your superiors or is it your personal belief that I will at some point crack and steal something because I am predisposed to do it?

I bet you didn’t know this, because you were too busy stalking me to notice, but those blond brace faces stole a packet of Marshmallows and Labello lip gloss last week. You screwed up your opportunity to actually BUST a syndicate of ruthless teen kleptomaniacs.

I am not planning to purchase anything on my next trip to the store. I will be there to STALK YOU, and to get that fat ass of yours something to be paranoid about.

You don’t even a have a gun, a baton or a Taser which makes you even suckier.

You are nothing to me and I am coming for you.

BF comes home tomorrow and I am fuh-reaking out! The last time I saw him was through a cloud of teary eyes at a foreign airport. I watched his frame grow smaller and smaller as he disappeared into the ravenous bowels of Charles de Gaulle not knowing when I would see him again. That was 8 months ago. A part of me feels like the person that I am about to see might not be the one I have just described.  I feel like I am about to go on a blind date. Our daily exchange of texts, G-Chats and skype phone calls have made me more familiar with the technology enabled version of him and I'm worried about 'meeting' the real deal. (It sounds like I am dating someone in an orange jumpsuit, doesn't it?)

I have been walking around the flat like a crazy person trying to make sure that everything is perfect for our “date”. I must have straightened the coffee table a million times and played around with my hair a million more times. 8 months is a long time, people. I could have birthed a human creature during that period. Or even worse, I could have changed!

What if he has changed? Does he do strange things now like read the bible before he goes to bed? (BF is a devout atheist, so it would really freak me out if he told me he has accepted Jesus Christ as his Saviour or something)

I don’t like this song. I don’t like it one bit. What happened to the crazy wreckage of guitars and drums that I have come to love these boys for? Is Alex Turner's life with Alexa Chung so sweet he thought: “Fek it lads, I’m going to the predictable side of life where the guitar chords are arranged nicely like my pretty girlfriend’s pastel cardigan collection” Pah.  

And did they tazer Matt Helders? Where are the drums??!! And what’s up with the “O-oooooh ooooh’s...Yeah yeah yeahs” in the chorus of this song? So many questions. Bloody ‘ell.

Why does it feel as though the forthcoming Suck It and See album is more suck than anything? Brick by Brick, another single off the album, sounds a bit like they were channelling The Doors which is not a bad thing in itself but this is the freakin’ Monkeys we are talking about it! They are the crazy kids that defied Ritalin!  

I dig all things 80's including the bad hair and make-up job plus toit leather pants deluxe on Axl Rose, but I'll have to go with the cover. Don't get me wrong, I have danced to the original like it was 1982 and threw my name away on the dance floor in hysteria because this song is just so ripped denims cool.  

But the cover version is so purrrty. So it wins.  

Hellsongs  

Guns N' Roses 

(Enjoy the Espanola subtitles: lol...  Ro-ro-ro-ro-ro Rodillas, Rodillas)

Ex-boyfriends, some of them anyway, fall into the Satan back pocket category. I had the displeasure of bumping into one such ex-boyfriend at the Sea Point Pick ‘n Pay, in the detergents aisle nogals. I spotted him first and my mind was too slow to go into cover mode. I was thinking: look away, look away now, run for the hills. But my eyes would not follow orders, they just lingered there, stroking old wounds perhaps or thinking of how satisfying it would be to rip out his jugular veins. I don’t know. Then he spotted me. Too late, our eyes had locked. I panicked, what do I do now, I am trapped. Fek!

Hi. He flashes a smile that was once disarming and moves in for a hug.

Hi. I croak, fidgeting with the bottle of Vanish (I swear, how’s that for irony?)I move the trolley between us to act as a buffer. Lines have been drawn, mister.

How’ve you been, my gosh how long has it been?

I’m good. Is all I can offer. You wish I were still counting how long it has been you friggin filth.

Wow, what are you doing now? You look so different. You’ve grown into a beautiful woman.

Thanks. You have gained about 50kg’s.

So are you seeing anyone?

Yes. F@*k you for asking.

Does he make you happy? He's playing the caring ex. WTF?

Yes. I want to rub into his face just how happy ‘he’ makes me, but I wana get out of there.

You? I ask, trying to expedite the torture.

Nah, still playing the field. He stares at me and then winks. Effing vermin, I think.

Look I gotta go, good luck with playing that field. I hope you fall madly in love with a high-maintenance Jezebel that will make your life miserable.

Okay cool. Maybe we can meet for drinks sometime?

I say nothing.

Can I get a hug?

Ah, no sorry I really gotta go. I want to crush you like the repulsive zit you are.

Oh okay, bye.

I know he was looking at me as I shuffled quickly out of that aisle. Luckily I had changed my mind on rocking my laid back weekend look which comes with a beanie and opted for the whimsical summer frock complete with head scarf.

I knew I looked fresh to death, so he could hug that for all I cared.