Writers Block

3 blogs. All half done. No ending. Saved as a draft.


Don't expect a story here either...

The. End.

Where's My Soccer Ball??

Like at any major party, there is always that one moment in the night where you ask yourself, "Seriously, what the fuck am I doing?". At a recent outdoor trance party, this was no exception. Being situated in a little valley in a forest, the location was awesome. Apart from the fact we got there late and our car was at the top of the valley. Our car and valley separated by one big ass hill. It was a monster, it was muddy, it was intimidating, especially when drunk, and it is the reason for this story.


We hit this party hard, Lucy paid some due fines, and we were well on our way.. Losing one our group at about 4.30 that morning with the car keys, my mate and I partied on. At about 5.30 we decided we should find a random tent in the valley and have a little power nap. It didn't matter what tent, as long as it was empty. We searched and searched, most tents being full. Finally we found one, a lil 1metre beast. As we were unzipping the door, we hear a girl start shouting at us.. OH SHIT!!! Some girl came running over and asked us what the hell we were doing... Well, the first thing that came out my mates mouth was, "I'm looking for my soccer ball..." Hahaha... it worked, we then convinced her to have a nap in the tent, which was apparently her mates, who would be chilled with it.. Okkaaaaaay.... Heads in the tent, legs lying out, we were sorted!! Or so we thought.. 2 minutes... and again, shouting. FML... really people!! The oke whose tent it was had arrived to find two pairs of legs stretching out his tent, belonging to two randoms he had never seen. Needless to say, HE MINDED...

My mate, as gone as he was, casually dragged himself down the road, between tents, only to be found 1 hour later passed our in the back of my car, awkward spooning the mate we had lost 2 hours earlier.. Awkward moments... Anyway, the next day was interesting.. Piecing together pieces of each others nights, and having a great laugh on the way back home, we all just nodded and agreed..... "I'm just looking for my soccer ball...."

Life...

Something happened yesterday.. Something tragic. It shocked the world of professional cycling, and was an eye opener for a lot more than just the cyclist's involved. Yesterday, during the 3rd stage of the 2nd biggest cycling race in the world, the Giro d Italia, Wouter Weylandt fell tragically to his death within 30km's form the finish.

At 26 years of age, he was a baby. A bright smiled, optimistic rider, who sacrificed himself on most occasions for the success of others, yet ironically had won the very same stage, of the very same race, just a year before. Leaving behind a pregnant wife, family and friends, it was an absolutely tragic loss, like any death. This was different though, he was doing what he loved, cycling professionally, working... In a sport where deaths are so rare, the whole raced was rocked into mourning. Not even 24 hours before, they had sat around the breakfast table laughing, looking forward to a great days racing, his team mates now sat empty, questioning such a pointless loss.

And that's how quickly it happens. Just like that, parents were minus a son, a wife minus a husband, and an unborn baby minus a father. It's one big ass reality check. Don't waste time, don't waste opportunities, and NEVER take tomorrow for granted. Use the time you have, don't have regrets, and see the people you want to see NOW, don't wait. Nobody gets second chances. Tell your parents you love them, don't neglect your friends, and do shit with a smile on your face.. Next time you're sitting around bored, make a plan to get out and do something. Next time you're unhappy or feeling down, fix it. Don't wait.

As the world of cycling mourns this loss, I for one will making every second I have count. I love you mom, I love you dad, and I will be happy. Make your time count peeps.. No regrets...

When The Waves Roll In

Cape Town is a beautiful city. It has amazing beaches, beautiful people, a great climate, an awesome night life, and quite often, great waves. Often working best in winter, the Cape also gets the odd big swell in summer. With hundreds of well known breaks, and even more hardcore secret spots for the likes of the Elsworths, the Cape is a real surfing treasure.

But this story isn't about any of those crazy secret spots, or any of those crazy Elsworths cats. This story is about Ben and I, and our little outing to a well known spot called Llundadno.  It was a beaut of a day, and we heard the swell was cooking. One of my Noordehoek mates said Llundadno wouldn't be able to handle it, but as stubborn as we are, we decided to persevere and head down that way anyway. We were not disappointed, and as we crested over into the bay, we saw it. It was big, and it was full of foam from the size.
It looked delicious....

As we got closer it just got bigger and bigger, and the distance the guys were sitting out from the shore was a clear indication it was doing something right. The thing about Llundadno is, on days like this, it is not as much the size that is the scary part, due to it never getting THAT big there, but more how heavy it breaks. Like a pair of slamming jaws, with a super steep face, it defiantly can be some what intimidating if you are feeling a little uneasy about things.

We got down on the beach, gear on and ready to go, and this is where I realized Benji may be feeling a little anxious about things... But hey, the boytjie he is, he sucked it up and we hit it. Timing a lil paddle out between sets, soon I was sitting at the back with the other okes...but, no Benji.. Soon a set came.. and still no Benji.. Oh dear... Not getting out in time, Ben was now getting worked like baba's bitch on that first night of love.. After 20 minutes of getting smashed, Benji headed to shore resigned to this being a little crazy.. but no, this wasn't going to do. Giving him 15min to get his breath back, I went fetch the lil bugger, and after much convincing and reassurance, he gave it another go, and soon was at the back...

The funny thing is, Ben was PAST the back.. Ben was about 20metres past the last surfer there, staring out into the ocean, with eyes wide open.. No blinking, and barely a word said, Ben was focusing..Not for a wave to catch, no no.. He was waiting for that one big one that broke a little further out than the rest, just to make sure he didn't get smashed again.. Hahahaha.. I have no idea how Ben got back to shore that day, refusing to catch a wave, and I think literally changing the color of the inside of his wetsuit...But he did it.. He went out and experienced Llundadno when it was big.. Big, heavy and gnarly...

It's been a day we joke about every time we’ve gone surfing since, and it's always a laugh, but boytjie, good on you... That shit was hectic, and you did it!!

And Lucy Was Born ..

With Matt moving into his new pad, it was time for that event that every mate loves, and every new resident dreads. It was time for a house warming party. The thing with house warming parties at our age, it's usually just a great excuse to get pissed and wreck stuff. This one was no exception, and I felt it was the perfect time to introduce the group to my new lady friend. Lucy.

Lucy, a petite lil bombshell at about 3 foot is quite the party animal. She normally ends up being the life of the party, and can really take stuff to a whole new level. Lucy, my dear friends, is a beer funnel. Not just any beer funnel, a beer funnel like no other. With the biggest funnel head most children have ever seen in their lives, a hose of beauty, and a shut off valve like no other, that allows you to maximize that surprise element of it all with a "woop, there goes 500ml's of beer down my throat".

Tonight was a special night for Lucy. It was her first night out,  and as such Lucy had to be a main feature of the night’s proceedings, with the first funneling sessions commencing around eight that night. Things were getting off to a good start. Soon people were swopping there brandy for beers, just to have another bash with this bad girl.

The ratings on funnel performance for members participating in the funnel are as follows:

1st. Me. Obviously, she's mine.
2nd. Craig. True champ, great speed.
3rd. Dan. Who knew those rugby fines had taught him so much.
4th. Last. Should not even be rated. Matt.

Now Matt, our host for the evening was a special case in these events. Not having used a beer funnel before, he seemed to prefer pasting himself and his clothes with half his beer instead of actually drinking it. For this performance, Matt is our ‘amateur of the day’.

A few Kings games were played, a braai that ended up turning into us sticking a woman in the kitchen to pan fry our food might have happened, and the blast from the past party spirit of Dan the man returned!!

After large amounts of alcohol and a 10.30 rush for free entry, we fell into Tiger. A pleasant reminder of the Long Islands half price special greeted us, and saying ‘no’ was just not an option. So, the drinking resumed. Many enlightening events followed, and it was quite the night to talk about.. later.. As I write this the next day, I am still drunk, barely understanding what I'm writing here.. Actually a painful read I think, but damn, my head feels like its in labor, so forgive me.

Lucy is now part of the group though, she will be the topic of many further discussions and blogs, and I'm sure you will feel you know her personally soon. Anyway, it was a great night, with a great house warming, an even greater hangover the next day, but it was all so worth it, and the legacy of Lucy was born..

The Peloton

The Peloton. Not your normal peloton by any stretch of the imagination. This is a unique version, that sets itself far apart from any other form of the word. It demands respect.

On any participating Tuesday night, in the pleasant upper class and mature walls of Tiger, gathers something so frowned upon by parents, so unprofitable for management, and yet so much fucking fun.
Its 15minutes before the doors even open, and the peloton meets on that gloriously filthy red carpet, ensuring front row seats. Lined up next to each other at the main bar of Tiger, at 8PM sharp are a group of friends that are The Peloton. Its free drinks night, and the Peloton is going to do what it does best, race.

The rules are simple. Buffalo applies, and when the first of the peloton is finished with their drink, everyone else downs the remainder of theirs. Easy enough right?? But wait..The goal is the part that makes it something a bit less moral than a gentle walk in the park. Like any race, the point is to beat your competitors, and in this race that’s simple. Drinking each other till walking seems more difficult than male child birth. 

To make the pelotons’ route a little more challenging, every brand of free spirits is included, involving a rotation system, of 2 rounds per spirit at a time. This ensures that the rule of never mixing your drinks that your parents taught you is completely thrown out the window.

Like any peloton, you have different jerseys’. You have your sprinters who start the race strong leading the first few rounds, then your white jersey for the one who is still proving himself, your yellow jersey for the previous weeks winner, and the polka dot jersey for who knows what..

This is a race that is not easily attempted by armatures, with our last first time challenger passed out in the car before 9pm with colorful body fluid decorations around the perimeter of the car.. you go Karl...

But lets be honest, its' brutal, but brilliant. With moves such as the T-Rex wiped out on the dance floor later in the night who can argue. Everyone needs to attempt this little bad boy at least one. So next time Tiger is having a bit of free drinks loving, come down, meet the peloton... will be a night you won't forget in awhile..