Broken

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I went to gym today for the first time in ages. Not literally ages, as in Mesolithic, Jurassic, Paleolithic etc. That would just be silly. Blokes fought off velociraptors and dragged women around by their hair for exercise back in those days: there was no need for gym. Oh – and men had beards and said “Ug!” a lot.
Thus, those were obviously good days.

Back to the present.
I don’t like gym and, generally speaking, I don’t like the sort of people who do like gym. Therefore, I’ve had many, many reasons for this hiatus. Some have been good, some appallingly bad, several were brilliantly made up on the spur of the moment.
Many have been related to my children and at least fourteen had some form of alcohol as their foundation stone. But I’ve finally run out of excuses and it was time to face my fears at Virgin Active in Claremont. 

For some reason, I decided that a nice gentle easing of my body back in to fitness would be a 25km cycle ride without going anywhere while watching Manchester United and Blackburn, neither of whom were going anywhere either. 
At least the bike kept my heart rate up. At least the scoreline made me smile.  
Can you see how utterly desperate I am for something positive?

After that, I incomprehensibly headed for the incomprehensible torture weights machines and lifted more than I should have rightfully been able to in order to break myself some more. If you are passing Chez 6000, I would very much like you to pop in and touch me on my studio please, because I cannot currently bend down far enough to do it myself.

Sadly, I fear tomorrow may bring with it a new dimension of musculoskeletal agony and there’s precisely bugger all I can do about it.

Pick n Pay are redefining imperial measurements

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South Africa uses the metric system of measurement. There are two main reasons for this – firstly, to confuse British people, and secondly to make the village of Port Elizabeth seem just a little bit further away from Cape Town. Safety in numbers and all that.
But there are disadvantages as well: after all, who wants to read a blog called 9656.064 kilometres from civilisation…?
Catchy, it ain’t.

But is size really that important? Popular local supermarket, Pick n Pay, have decided to exploit the fact that no-one in SA knows about feet and inches by introducing their own new version of a footlong roll.

Footlong

One foot is 30.48cm in anyone else’s language, but Pick n Pay have reduced that by at least six and bit centimetres for their awesome 0.764435696 of a footlong rolls. However, given that the new nomenclature is about as catchy as that kilometre blog thing I mentioned earlier, I can see why they left it as “footlong”, even though it blatantly isn’t.

I’m guessing that it was a man that had that idea. I wonder if they do that with their sausages too?
(PicknPay, I mean. I know that men do.)

Race War Postponed

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The Daily Maverick’s Phillip de Wet has been following events up in Ventersdorp as the funeral of the controversial AWB leader Eugene Terre’Blanche takes place.

The obvious intensity and gravity of the inflammatory situation there was summed up by his recent tweet:

While this may all be very amusing, since there has (touch wood) been no sign of any violence as yet, it is concerning that as the Highveld moves into winter and the dry season, these excuses for postponement may become fewer and further between.  

Or was this a poke at the sensationalist media which is camped out in the NorthWest, desperate for some action to sell some newspapers at whatever cost to the reputation of the country?

Please note that tickets for the Race War will still be valid when it is rescheduled. In the event that ticketholders cannot attend the revised date, a full refund will be offered by the outlet at which you purchased your ticket(s).

Next year…

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Damn. Don’t you hate it when good ideas come along just too late?

This one came to my attention about 7 weeks too late for Valentine’s Day this year, but I can only imagine how overwhelmed Mrs 6000 will be to find that I have arranged her funeral for her as a romantic gift next February.

Valentine's gift idea

The brilliant bit about this gift is that once you’ve sorted it all out for the wonderful woman in your life, you will never have to get her another Valentine’s Day gift again – because you definitely won’t be together anymore.

Touch me on my studio

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Much mirth and merriment in South Africa today as footage of André Visagie, Secretary General of the AWB, storming off the set of etv news does the rounds.

Alternative video source (starts at 0:31)

These sort of funny things are always happening on SA TV. Who could forget the unfortunate “Chairman” Nhlanhla Nene incident, for example? But while Mnr Visagie is (sadly) very much a South African entity, live broadcast bloopers can happen to anyone. Even the great Nicky Campbell. Twice.

It’s another embarrassing nail in the coffin of the AWB. Not only are their views disgustingly racist and outdated, their members are a laughing stock. And, as you’ll see, their bodyguards are nervously smiling weedy teenagers. Ooh. Scary.

There’s a meme going around the SA internet at the moment: “Don’t touch me on my studio”, but having reviewed this footage time and time again, it seems to me that the presenter, Chris Maroleng, is actually continually inviting Visagie to touch him on his studio. Thus, thanks to the grainy coverage, only two questions remain: where exactly is the Chris Maroleng’s studio? And why does he want André to touch him on it on live TV?

Kinky bugger.

UPDATE: And already: The Song.