Tuesday, July 26, 2011

I Am An Addict...

Hello. My name is Tiaan and I’m an addict.

Those have got to be the hardest words ever spoken by a person ever.

I have admitted to myself ages ago that I am an addict.

Less than five years ago I was addicted to ephedrine. To those that don’t know, ephedrine is the active ingredient in most slimming tablets. Thinz, Slenz, etc. Ephedrine is Speed. Ephedrine is Ecstacy. Luckily for some of us, those tablets aren’t available over the counter anymore.

I popped 6 of those slimming tabs every single day.

Not my proudest moment. However, those moments shaped who I am today…

Were it not for a busted cam belt and my bedroom floor, I may not have beaten the addiction.

However, beating one addiction always makes room for one more.

Since I can remember, which isn’t too long ago, I’m a bit of a drunk.

Some days I drink to just fall asleep. Some days I drink to get totally slaughtered.

99% of what I do goes up to 11. I am an addict.

I think my Mother’s known for some time that I have an addictive personality. I get addicted easily to things.

I think for her it was that I don’t like being second best at anything.

I only learned how a stove works two and a half years ago. Yet, now I have to try the most complicated recipe.

I picked up a proper camera two and a half years ago. Now that camera is what partly defines who I am.

Some of my family members only found out a few weeks ago that I am an addict. On the same night they found out I’m a religious sceptic.

However… Us addicts had one of our stalwarts pass away this week… Possible OD, although the autopsy is inconclusive.

Regardless of autopsy we know. Amy Winehouse died as she lived. Everything up to 11.

In my lifetime I have beaten one addiction. Will I ever beat my alcohol addiction? Who knows?

That is the way it is.

Should we ever breed, it is either good or bad for the child.

I will either be the best parent ever, or the most drunk.

I’m glad I never had drunken parents, which means if we ever spawn I’ll have to sober up.

Try as I might, I cannot paint all of my addictions in a positive light.

The only positive that can come out of my addictions is that I try my absolute best to be number one.

The absolute worst is that I might die young. Or rather youngish.

Hopefully, one day, I’ll sober up. Do I have a problem? Possibly. Do I care? Maybe.

That last maybe is what keeps me going.

Will I carry on getting drunk? Quite likely.

Will I eventually stop? Let’s see…

You Sir, Are a Knob…


I feel I need to paint y’all a picture. If only for the purpose of this blog post.

We live in what might be termed a “gated community”. We have security guards with booms. Not that they’re any good, but it’s a bit of a sense of security.
A few weeks ago, upon arriving home, I noticed a tent on the sidewalk. Now, you need to know there’s a wooden Wendy house type of “guardhouse”, so this puzzled me.
Then a day later I noticed the guardhouse is gone, but didn’t pay the missing guardhouse or tent too much mind.
A few days after that I was working late. That was when I noticed that the guards guarding the boom were expected to overnight in the tent.
A day later we see they’re rebuilding the guardhouse. So we reckon they’re finally getting a brick and mortar guardhouse. Brick and mortar is good for winter, so much better than a wooden Wendy house in my opinion.
A few day after that I get home and notice the boom is gone. Pay it no mind. The Boss tells me that the guards are on strike. This one time, I was not blaming them for striking.
However, the cherry on the cake was when the owner of the security company left a message for all of us residents on the board. This you can see in the picture. Apparently some “arsehole” (his words) reported him to the municipality for not having plans.
No my boy. You were reported for being a heartless bastard. You pay these guys minimum wage, yet expect them to spend an ice cold winter’s night in a TENT?!
No fucking wonder they went on strike. No fucking wonder you got reported. It wasn’t me that reported you, but I wish I did.
You sir, the owner of Firmitas Security, should be ashamed. You should spend on winter’s night in a tent. Let’s see how you feel.

You Sir, Are a Knob…


I feel I need to paint y’all a picture. If only for the purpose of this blog post.

We live in what might be termed a “gated community”. We have security guards with booms. Not that they’re any good, but it’s a bit of a sense of security.
A few weeks ago, upon arriving home, I noticed a tent on the sidewalk. Now, you need to know there’s a wooden Wendy house type of “guardhouse”, so this puzzled me.
Then a day later I noticed the guardhouse is gone, but didn’t pay the missing guardhouse or tent too much mind.
A few days after that I was working late. That was when I noticed that the guards guarding the boom were expected to overnight in the tent.
A day later we see they’re rebuilding the guardhouse. So we reckon they’re finally getting a brick and mortar guardhouse. Brick and mortar is good for winter, so much better than a wooden Wendy house in my opinion.
A few day after that I get home and notice the boom is gone. Pay it no mind. The Boss tells me that the guards are on strike. This one time, I was not blaming them for striking.
However, the cherry on the cake was when the owner of the security company left a message for all of us residents on the board. This you can see in the picture. Apparently some “arsehole” (his words) reported him to the municipality for not having plans.
No my boy. You were reported for being a heartless bastard. You pay these guys minimum wage, yet expect them to spend an ice cold winter’s night in a TENT?!
No fucking wonder they went on strike. No fucking wonder you got reported. It wasn’t me that reported you, but I wish I did.
You sir, the owner of Firmitas Security, should be ashamed. You should spend on winter’s night in a tent. Let’s see how you feel.