Fun Sized Opinions

I got the idea for Fun Sized Opinions from someone else. Trust me, I am not that original.

However, being active on both Twitter and Facebook, I sometimes have what can be called a fun sized opinion. It’s quite a bit shorter than 500 words, and a bit more than 140 characters. So, Fun Sized Opinions was born. Enjoy if you wish.

Top TV

I have no idea what Top TV was thinking when they launched their ad campaign, but whoever came up with it should be shot.

There’s one ad with a woman that’s a bad cook. Suddenly after one year of watching Top TV she’s great cook. She can make Potato Dauphinoise, but she can’t bloody pronounce it properly. Fuck it!

She completely murders the pronunciation as “doff-in-wah”, when in fact it is “doe-fin-wah”.

MTV

MTV has got to be the biggest load of bollocks on air at the moment. Right after The Breakfast Xpress and Top TV.

They play one good music video and then ten really shitty ones.

Bonus: MTV should change their name to Really Shitty Reality TV. That is all.

 Shoppers

It irks me, it does. When I am in a queue for a till at a shop, there are usually people in front of me. This is the norm.

What I find most irksome, is that the person in front of me has someone running the shop flat to get all the stuff on the list. A rule I have, I get the stuff I want and then stand in the queue. I don’t get The Boss to run around like a blue arsed fly collecting things while I reserve a spot near the front.

Get your stuff. Join the queue. Find a cashier. Pay. Job done.

Magnum Mini

We’ve all seen the ads. The Magnum Mini. What’s the point? Either give me a Magnum or don’t.

Don’t tease me. The only way a Magnum Mini is going to satisfy me is if I eat the whole pack. In one go.

The Breakfast Xpress

After Jeremy Mansfield left The Rude Awakening last year, Highveld’s breakfast show hasn’t been the same.

They kept the format the same, put a knob in charge and screwed an entire province.

I just want to know the following: With all the celeb dick they suck, are Darren and Samantha not afraid of STDs?

Really now. Every “schleb” that has the misfortune of being interviewed by them is the greatest ever.

Fuck Off! Some schlebs are not all that great. Especially that massive knob that is Dr 90210.

ATMs

My dear people, operating an ATM is not fucking rocket science. You ask for money and it gives it.

Do not attempt to pay a bunch of accounts via the ATM during the month end rush. There are people behind you that simply want to get some money from the machine.

If you do not know how to operate the bloody machine, go inside the  bank and fill in a little form. If you are so afraid of technology, or so stupid with the tech, then rather stick with pen and paper.

Why I Am Not a South African

I have for many years felt as if I’m not really a part of this country, merely a citizen. Should you look at the entire culture of this country and then look at me, you will see for yourself that I don’t really belong.

The culture of this country of ours revolves largely around braais, outdoor living, sokkie, rugby, 4x4, lather, rinse and repeat.

Now you take me, as a bad example. I am not a particular fan of the braai. Outdoor living is for the birds. Sokkie is something for me to make fun of. Rugby is something that someone else finds interesting. A 4x4 is something that is driven by a massive douche bag.

At some stage of my life I realized that I don’t fit in here, in this country. I am not terribly patriotic and given half a chance I would be living somewhere other than South Africa, or even Africa.

One day, some months ago, I heard some guy talking on the radio. He mentioned something which I found interesting at the time, and I can kick myself for not downloading the podcast at the time it happened.

This chap on the wireless was talking about something called “ancestral memories”. The gist of it is that you can feel something for a culture other than the one you were raised in. You might feel more for your ancestors’ culture than you do for your own.

When I heard that, a red flag went up in the old grey matter. This red flag said to me that maybe I was genetically linked more to another culture than the South African culture I had the misfortune of being raised in.

Had you asked me in the early 80s what I am, I would said that I am an Afrikaner. However, had we progressed through time, myself growing as a person through all of that and you ask me the same question what I am, the answer invariably would be that I am an Englishman.

I can speculate that during my formative years, I was formed by the society I grew up in. I was raised Afrikaans, due to the fact that my half Scot, half German mother married my Afrikaans father. I also grew up in what is now known as the “struggle years”.

Up until standard four I was in an Afrikaans class in a dual medium school. From standard five onwards I was in an English school. I do believe that it was in that school that I came to embrace me inherent English-ness.

I have happened to believe this chap on the wireless about the ancestral memories. However, research funding lacking, I have to make do with whatever the Google Machine gives me.

I know I might be a Scot because of the bagpipes, which I like and the Scotch whisky, which I love. Then there’s the German, which might explain why I like Rammstein so much. I have no idea where the Dutch part comes in because I didn’t enjoy smoking pot.

The point I was trying to make this time, is that despite my upbringing I feel more of a longing for my ancestral roots. In my heart I will always be an Englishman, a Scotsman even. I have never, in my life, felt like a South African.

I may be born of this country, but I’m THE most unpatriotic person you will ever know. Given half a chance, I would live somewhere else. No offence though to the South Africans. This is purely how feel. And this country? I don’t feel it.

When Good Parents Grow Old...

It seems that I have come to that stage in my life that I have to face my parents’ growing old head on.

I have always just expected my parents to always be around. When one is young, you tend to think that your parents are invincible.

Even later in one’s life, you think that your parents will still, for some reason or other, be around forever.

However, now, I have to face that my parents have become grandparents to a few grandkids, and therefore have been growing older.

I don’t know if everyone does this, but I do at times think back on my life. It hasn’t been a very long life, but I do think about my growing up years.

I have, since recently, been thinking a lot about my growing up years. I realize the amount of sacrifices that my parents had to make to give me the life that I had. Fair enough, I never got everything that I ever wanted, but I had everything I needed.

I think, at the end of the day, that was what mattered. I had what I needed. The parents bent over backwards to provide for me what I needed. "Wants" be damned.

At the time, though, I wasn't extremely pleased about it. However, some years later I am not only pleased, but grateful.

That was not the point though. There was a point. Somewhere.

The point is, that after an undisclosed number of years on this planet, I have to face the fact that my parents are getting older. Granted they are both in better condition than most of my friends' grandparents, but time is ticking away.

A very good friend of mine's grandmother turned 70 this week. My Dad turned 71 last month. Looking at the grandmother, she's ready to give up. My Dad is still going strong. Doesn't look a day over 65, in my opinion.

The difference is that one kept busy and the other is waiting to die.

I have in my own way made my peace with the fact that my parents won't be around forever. It's not a feeling I relish. However, it is something I will have to deal with at some stage.

I realize that every mother and father's day, everyone thinks they've got the best parents on this planet. This despite badmouthing their parents every other day of the year.

I know that I have had my moments with my parents over the years. Even now we have a few moments. The difference now is that I know, to a degree, what my parents have gone through.

I know I do not always give my parents the credit they deserve for raising me. I am pretty sure I'm the only hell my mother ever raised, but I digress again.

I wish I was in a position now to provide for my parents as they provided for me whilst growing up. Then I ask myself "Do I really want my parents to grow old in this country?"

Admittedly, growing old is inevitable. Growing old in a shitty third world country is entirely optional. For some it is optional, at least. Fingers crossed and gods willing that my parents will grow old(er) in a first world country.

At the end of all of this, have I made my peace? I don’t think so. Will I be ready when it happens? Not a fucking chance. But…

I will make my peace whenever. But, I would still like to feel that the Parentals are immortal. And by mere association I may be immortal as well. 

Simple Rules for Sending Me Messages

In the past few years I have been the victim of some rather shoddily written electronic communications. This is pretty much the same for personal and business e-mails.

Therefore, I took it upon myself to put together this handy print out and keep guide for any person wishing to communicate with me.

Greetings and Salutations
The first thing I see when I open an e-mail is the salutation. Alright, the second thing after the subject line.

Do not, under any circumstances start an e-mail with the greeting “Elo”. The last time I checked ELO was a British band formed in the 1970s. When I read a salutation like “Elo”, I’ve already pre-judged the rest of the message. Regardless of what the contents might be.

Acceptable salutations are “Hello”, “Hi”, or for very close friends: “Hey”.

Take the time to write a proper salutation, and I might even take the rest of the message seriously.

Spelling and Grammar.
Bad spelling has to be the biggest bugbear of my existence. I have in the course of however many years I have been receiving e-mails, read many, many misspelled words. Some of the worst offenders have turned out to be so-called “professionals”. Project managers are some of the worst culprits.

Just recently I have received messages where the person correctly spells “discussed” in one sentence, and in the very next sentence spells it wrong. I need to say however, bad spelling makes me “incomfotable”*.

Nearly as bad as bad spelling is the bad grammar. This goes for certain “professional” project managers and other esteemed colleagues.

This includes using present tense instead of past tense. Misplaced apostrophes is one of the most common crimes. Remember, boys and girls, apostrophe denotes possession.

Sentences and Paragraphs.
If you have trouble with sentence structures and paragraphs, then don’t even bother sending me a message.

I just recently had a message sent to me that was one long paragraph. I received it on my phone, since I was nowhere near my computer at the time. After scowling at it for five minutes, I gave up. I could only read it properly only the next day.

In order for me to make sense of it I had to copy it into Word, and insert paragraph breaks where I saw fit. Not to mention doing a spell check so I don’t throw up in my mouth while reading it.

In conclusion I just want you to know this: If you want me to take any electronic communications from you seriously, then follow these simple rules. In all honesty, they are not even my rules. We were all taught these at school. That is if you went to school somewhere between the eighties and nineties.

Call me anal or fussy, but grammar rules were not meant to be broken. If you break them I will think you are an idiot and mock you.

To Breed Or Not To Breed

That is the question.

Since the day we’ve gotten married, people have been asking us when we are planning to breed. Telling people that we want to wait some time before spawning seems to have no effect.

People don’t seem to actually care what it is that we want. It seems to be terribly important for couples to spawn once the wedding ring is on the finger. However, try as I might, I just don’t see the importance.

In all honesty though, I am enjoying my life as it is right now to want to change it for a child. Once you have a child, or many, life changes. It becomes a non-stop merry-go-round of parenty things. Birthday parties, school plays, parents evenings, first days of school and last days of school.

Then with my luck, I’d probably end up with an outdoorsy kind of child. Then it will be camping and fishing trips just to completely fuck me over.

Admittedly my life isn’t all that full. It mostly consists of sitting on the couch and smoking. With the occasional drinking binges thrown in for good measure. But it is my life and I want to enjoy it as I see fit. There is also the occasional, spur of the moment road trips, coffee runs and movie outings which will now all have to be planned with military precision so as to have a baby sitter available.

However, all these people putting that teeniest bit of pressure to produce offspring tend to forget one thing: We have to pay for it. Everybody wants us to breed, but no one particularly wants to share the financial costs of it all. Never mind the time it takes to raise one. None of these people will be there at 2 AM to change a diaper, feed and burp. Nope. That will all come down to the two of us.

Not to mention that children are a bad return on investment. Every month for the next 18 years we’ve got to shell out hundreds and thousands of Rand. Then after paying all of these thousands every month for 18 years, you get zero return.

If I’m going to be expected to deposit into a fund for 18 years, I would prefer to get better than zero return.

The Education System is Failing Us

I have believed for some time now that the education system is failing us. Other people have been saying the same thing, but for reasons other than why I think the system is failing us.

After working corporate South Africa for the past six years, I have learnt a few things that school never prepared me for.

So, in order for the Department of Education to step up their game, I have devised this handy list of features we need to see in the future. Things that I believe will turn the youth of today into people that are better prepared to enter the corporate world.

First things first though. Children will no longer be allowed to go to school close to home. The youngens will now be expected to attend school approximately 30 to 65 kilometers from home. They will now have to travel by bus, car or motorcycle to school. Through rush hour traffic. Leaving at sparrow fart, in order to be there at 8 AM.

No longer will school run from 8:00 till 14:00. School will run from 7:30 to 17:00. With enough homework to keep the little buggers busy until midnight or later.

Then you away with first break and second break. You now have tea time and lunch.

In order to have the youngens prepared for what awaits them, during lunch several teachers need to approach them and ask them random questions. That is what happens to us in the real world. You’ve got your McDonald’s take away burger halfway mouthwards when your phone will ring. It is usually some customer, somewhere, asking you a random question. By the time the phone call is finished, your burger’s gone cold and the ice in your Coke has melted.

To make the playing field even more level. While in math class, the geography, history and language teachers need to barge in and ask random questions about the subjects they teach. Same should be true for any subject the student/pupil/learner takes.

At some stage it will be important to throw in a handful of project managers.

Project managers are the bane of any working person’s existence. Especially if the project manager does not have a clue about the project they are managing.

Therefore, in order to prepare the youngens for working with project managers, and customers, I have a plan. It is a cunning plan.

If a student is taking science, present them with a project. This project will be managed by another student. A student that has absolutely no knowledge of science, like for instance, an accounting student. The accounting student will then be in charge of meeting with the teacher to “understand” the requirements of the project. The accounting (AKA project managing) student will then have to communicate these requirements to the science student who will actually be doing the project.

The science student will then have to do their own research. They will not be given any tips. All they will know is what the eventual outcome of the project should be.

Project managing student will then set some unrealistic timelines, and communicate those timelines back to the science teacher without telling the science student.

At all times will the science student be told as little as possible.
Eventually, given the cock up caused by the project managing student not knowing the subject matter, the science project will be late. Science student will get penalized and project managing student will come out smelling of roses.

That is my plan in sort of a nutshell.

Far too many people enter the workplace having no idea how corporations, and the real world, works. Far too many don’t have an idea how frustrating working with a project manager can be. This will teach them.

Go forth and teach.

When Did I Turn Into My Parents

I remember when I was growing up my parents being careful how they spent their cash. Not that there is anything wrong with being thrifty, mind you. These days, and I suppose those days as well, being thrifty with your money was being clever.

As far back as I can remember I wished my parents had more money. Mostly I wished they had more money to pander to my wishes on any given day. It was a selfish notion, but I was quite a bit self-centred in my younger years.

All through those years, I always promised myself that I would never think twice about spending money. I vocalized that promise to myself a few times as well. I made sure my parents knew I would never be as big misers as they were.

Fast forward a few years. What do we see?

I would not say that I am a terribly frugal person. I do not mind to spend money on The Boss. If it pleases The Boss of course. However, The Boss herself is not a terribly demanding person. I am also not a spendthrift.

I have, in recent years, become an incredibly cheap person. Allow me to paint you a picture of my cheapness.

About a year ago I noticed the front tyres of my car wearing down slightly. Any normal person would pull into the local SupaQuick, order 2 tyres and be off. Not me. I first phoned around to find out who stocks the particular (cheap-ish) brand of tyre that is currently on the car. Enquired about the cost per wheel. Made all sorts of encouraging noises on the phone.

On the day I decided to have the wheels done, off I drove to SupaQuick. Told the tyre fitting person that I want one tyre. Put one new one on front. Put spare tyre on the front, and put the best out of the two current wheels on the spare.

Like I said, I am cheap. I am so cheap that I make Jews look generous.

The Boss and I’s visit to Cape Town last year is another prime example of my cheapness. Most people would opt to fly down, rent a car and pay a hotel. Not this one.

We did the math. In doing the math we realized that if we drove down we can save R 6,000. Of course a saving of that much made me very happy. So we opted to drive.

The half of the population that would drive the distance would sleep over somewhere. Not this one. I reckoned that if we don’t sleep over anywhere we save even more money.

So I drove, and drove. We got to Cape Town in one piece, tired as all hell, but I saved money.

Previous years I had no problems spending money. I was however made to feel guilty when I spent my money on myself. I am assuming that my cheapness might stem from there. To this day I feel bad about spending money. Or perhaps it is just genetics.

Whatever it might be, I am not complaining. Stupidity has had me spend large portions of my “disposable income” paying off bills. Hopefully my cheapness will bring that to an end some day soon.