Spring Has Sprung

So it's basically summer time again. Winter has passed and the sun in all her glory and wisdom, has decided to rear her beautiful warm face over us once more. Jeepers I love global warming. This time of the year seems like the perfect time to reflect on the season passed, and look forward to the heat wave ahead.

So here we go. Winter was bang average and wet. Good, that takes care of reflection. Now for the uncontrollable excitement of summer time.

I'm struggling to type right now, and my heart is literally thumping through my chest. I love summer. There is nothing better than sitting on Cliffies 1 - also know as 'Cougar Island' - on a steamy hot day, feeling the crunching sand between your toes. I mean, walk along the beach, or stretch to make that vital save in a game of 'bat and ball'. Just live it I say. Once you've built up a solid sweat, hit the waves. Feel the cold water pound against your head. There is nothing more refreshing. After cooling down rock a few killer body surfs. I'm not the surfing type, so body surfing is as far as I go.

Hiking up Lion's Head is another favourite pass time of mine. It only works in summer though. Hiking in the winter cold is ridiculous. Why would I want to get layered up like an onion, and then go sweat on a mountain in crispy cold air? I need to wear a wife beater and shorts when I work out, that's the only way. The water at the top tastes just that much sweeter in summer too.

Cricket also gets played during summer. Thinking about sitting on the grass banks at Newlands, draught in hand, and cooking under the sweltering sun, makes me very happy. Watch the game, or don’t, I doesn’t really matter, just enjoy the electric vibe. Being a stone’s throw away from Claremont is another tick in this box. I think everybody should enjoy a day at Newlands, it is impossible to be disappointed afterwards.

So there we have it. Probably the three greatest things to do in summer. Hit the beach, climb a mountain and watch a cricket game. By accomplishing those three feats you will have inadvertently have enjoyed a summer of peace and love. And at the end of the day, nothing else matters.

Welcome To Crazy Town

Here's to the crazy people out there. Without the nutjobs, kooks and other uncerimoniously named 'crazy people', the world would be dreary. I have always agreed with the theory that it is better to have an awkward morning than a night of loneliness. I need excitement in my life, and I find it extremely difficult to interact with a dull 'dialtone' of a human. People who refuse to broaden their horizons and stick to daily reutines have a special place on earth, just not alongside me.

That said, I'm not a crazy person by any stretch of the imagination. And by that I mean you aren't going to find me ashing cigars in friends eyes, or watching five minutes of a Lions Currie Cup match. It does interest me though, as to how far some willing and able kooks will go to stand out. It entertains me to read the news and discover someone has been jailed for faking a seisure after devouring an expensive meal to escape the bill. Just how many attention seeking individuals are there are amogst us?

Take Paris Hilton. She, for all accounts is an attractive woman. So it would'nt be unusual to see her parading through the streets of Hollywood with the worlds most influential men. Again, it's not strange to see snap shots of Paris tanning her nibbly bits on a yacht, is it? What if the owner of said yacht resembles the retard child of an Asian and an overweight pig? Oh yes, it's a steamy visual. He does, however, have more moolah than Botswana's GDP. Surely that should justify her new tanning salon? I think not. It is helluva funny though.

Speaking of attention junkies, just when you thought Donald Trump had run out of things to lend his name to, something new rose to the surface. Trump Tea. Yes, Trump has launched an exciting new chapter in his illustrius career, in the form of four leaf tea blends - que thumbs down. My word, Trump Tea, I mean, is he joking? Aside from the catchy name, everything else about it screams boredom. Coffee would've been awesome. Or some kind of protein shake. But this is getting off topic because everyone knows Donald Trump isn't crazy, he's just a balding American, sporting a ginger hairpiece. Priceless.

Now for the main course.

A fair maiden from a small part of London Town has to unfortunately be crowned queen bonkers. Her tale is not a pretty or herioc one, but she did out-do herself to grab the headlines.
A regular British family was returning home, after enjoying a peaceful weekend away. Unbeknown to them, their domestic worker had relished her time alone in the house. Lets just say she had a fun time. Fun has never killed anyone, has it? Turns out fun turned a corner and landed squarely on our fair maidens shouders. Upon entering the master bedroom, this small town family witnessed something only fit for a series called CSI-Emmanuel. Picture this; domestic worker lying spread eagle on your master bed, skirt down to her ankles, laptop open on porn, dildo in hand, and the cat on her chest. Take a second for it to sink in. Wow.

What a way to go. Creative, raunchy and pleasurable. That scene was fit for a mental asylum, but it was indeed a thouroughly enjoyable story. That is why the world needs crazy, dillusional people. Without them, we would have nothing to laugh at on Monday mornings.