Whenever entering a new area, it is probably best that you find out a little bit about the place before you go there. Misverstand is no different, but being from Cape Town, we knew what the vibe was there. I knew that other than the rich kids from Constantia who come to sink their parents boats, there would be no real English speaking people. I was bracing myself for the normal Afrikaans/ English mix where the language goes like this:

Ja pa, I are like to be wearing a jean pant. WIF a belt nogal. Hoor!

I took Afrikaans in High School( Hoer Skool, put those two little dots on the “e”) and so I understand(Ken) a bit of the language if it is spoken basically and very slowly. Unfortunately in Misverstand this is not the case. It’s brandewyn and Coke swilling, crop talking jean pant wearing people in that area. I feel alright talking about the language barriers like this, because our very own Charlie V is Afrikaans! Well not really anymore, but he used to only speak Afrikaans. Now he is a Cape Town party animal, and English comes naturally to him. And a bit of Spanish for some or other reason. He speaks a bit of Japanese as well after Jager bombs.

So on the first night there we decided to hit up the bar at Misverstand, where we found four or five guys drinking brandy and Coke and chatting about something or other that made no sense to me.

Charlie V dug deep down to retrieve his Afrikaans dictionary and translated parts of the conversation. It turns out the guys were talking about crop spraying. They were debating whether it is more effective to spray crops by air or by tractor(Trakker) Obviously, when spraying by air, you don’t lose any crop because you don’t need to leave space for the tractor to get between them and spray. Doing it by tractor seems cheaper, but by air you don’t lose any crops and you need to factor this in as well. Makes sense I suppose.

Looking at these guys they seemed pretty tough from days spent on the farm, and their jeans were not bought with the worn in look. That look came from spending tine on the Massey Ferguson and out in the blazing heat tending to crops.

Not wanting to seem out of place, I decided to keep my drink order in line with the norms at Misverstand. All three of us went for the classic brandy and coke, just to let the regulars know that that’s what we drink, all the time! They would be shocked to know that just before arriving I had been drinking Savannah. Out of the CHILL PACK! And putting cream on my face! And shaving my…right. It’s SO feminine! I can just imagine what they would have said:

Jy drink soos a meisie!

So to avoid that we went with the brandy. It made us more low key. You know…so that we could try blend in with the crowd. The “crowd” being all eight of us. I suspect they didn’t know we are from the city…other than the fact that I was wearing my Diesel watch and Woolworths T-shirt coupled with my Havaiana sandals. And the Oakleys. And the fact that my skin was baby smooth from all the expensive cream I had been putting on.

Ja, no well fine, I’m sure they did not suspect a thing!

I don’t really recall saying a word at the bar that night, afraid that my Queens English might offend. For some bizarre reason the barman was English, and seemed to speak no Afrikaans really. I know this because he sounded foreign, like Australian or something. And I saw him the next day and asked how things were going and he said “Ah just another day trying to understand Afrikaans!”

Charlie V in the meantime, sitting in my silence, picked up a magazine on the bar and it also had to do with crops like wheat or something. Interesting…

Obviously the heat was something to contend with the entire time we were there and so we tried to get the air conditioner working but it seemed that the aircon was also a bit Afrikaans. Or a lot. It actually can’t count as an air conditioner. More of a humidifier that makes you feel sweaty and dirty.

Ja ma!

For those of you who can’t read that, it says, and enjoy this “Attention. Here is only for ice cube. No water from here”

ENGLISH! A stack!

Even Charlie V(Afrikaans) was laughing at that one. It was such great language up there. We also noticed that all the places around were not too English sounding. For example “Moorreesburg” and “Koringberg”

If you ever plan on going into that area (Don’t, the heat will probably kill you) then make sure that you brush up on the taal. And even of you don’t, it’s just a good laugh seeing all that stuff and interacting with the people, even if “interacting” means just sitting listening to their conversations.

Misverstand is one of those places that when you are up there you are thinking “It’s so damn hot! No one speaks English!” but when you get back to the city, you realise that it was one of the biggest laughs of your life.

I think in the next part of this I should post some photos, they are rad. That’s right. Rad. When last dod you hear the word “rad” I took it from Jerry D and quite enjoy using it again. The last time I used it was when I was a little surfer girl who smoked weed.

Sorry, did I just type that out loud?

Sean Lloyd

Editor

No this story has nothing to do with me actually visiting these places but rather the weird shuffling that people do at this time of the year. I was chilling on Clifton 4th on Saturday(”Chilling” not being the right word. Pumping hot. Caught a tan in 2 hours with SPF 30) chatting to some people from Jo’burg. Well some were from Joburg and still stay there. The others(Actually only one) was from Joburg, but realised the error of her youth and took the trip to live in Cape Town. Comical.

Anyway, I had prior to this been chatting to some other people from Joburg and they had mentioned that for New Years they were all going up to Kenton and Ox-Braai and all the usual debaucherous places that people go to for New Years. I then scanned my friends list and checked who was here in Cape Town and realised that everyone had left and I was holding down the fort here in Cape Town by MYSELF! Ludicrous. Even worse is that I have friends who are in Peru, New York and Botswana during these times.

What makes the situation even more hilarious is that I’m staying by myself in Llandudno right now. It’s madness! I have literally just been chilling at the pool all day, even though the beach is just a stroll away. It’s so leisurely! Might light up the braai now, cook an entire chicken(Fowl) for myself and see what happens.

What I wanted to say though was this whole Joburg, Cape Town, Kenton thing. All the people from Joburg flock to Cape Town during the holidays, obviously keen to escape Joburg. All the Cape Town people flock to Hermanus to their holiday houses but most importantly all the young people go up to Kenton. This is all well but who the hell goes to Joburg? The Joburg people even go to Kenton.

Word is no one really visits Joburg. Apparently it’s just quiet up there as everyone has left for places with ocean and laid back people( Ummm…Cape Town) So that explains why Cape Town is so ridiculous at this time. Mmmmm…Tourism in Joburg must be booming. Can’t really complain down here in the Cape as the tourists constantly pour in, to see things such as Robben Island, Table Mountain and that new statue of myself in the Waterfront.

Oh sorry I’m looking 5 years ahead on that statue. Sorry.

Clifton on Saturday was the usual mess, and I would have preferred my preferred beach, but it was not up to me. The party liason also put in a line about Bakoven, something about bronzed gladiators. There was the usual stuff going on and for once I was actually stunned. We had the ice cream guys going mental, loads of beautiful people and also the girl breastfeeding her child on the beach. Mind you she was in one of those tent things, but from where we were we could still see all the happenings. And no, it is not a fetish of mine to watch people breastfeeding babies on the beach, I’m just saying it happened and I thought I should let you know. Got milk?

Clifton is actually looking good at the moment with people coming round with bags to throw your rubbish in and the cops patrolling with walkie talkies and binoculars. Although I think we all know why they have binoculars! Sneaky sneaky! Clifton has that Blue Flag status thing going on, so it’s top notch.

It’s still a bit crowded at Clifton at this time of the year though and I will stick to the pool with the ocean view.

As we sit here on the last day of the year, it’s a time to chill out, pour a drink, get ready for whatever party you are going to, and realise that 2008 is going to get crazy.

Tomorrow should be a bit of a spectacle at the beach so I will be on it. And to those of you planning on spending the evening at Dunes in Hout Bay, word is they always plan something special for New Years Eve.
Sean Lloyd

Editor 

I’m constantly amused by the people who sell bottled water and all that stuff on Clifton beach. It’s SUCH a scam! Mind you, I suppose they don’t work in winter, so they need to harass summer. But the way they do it is so sneaky.

I went to buy some bottled water, which they are selling for a cool R7. So I gave the women working at the stall(Now sponsored by Pepsi) a R50 note(50ZAR) She gave me my change, and said that she did not have any more change and that I should fetch my R1 that she owes me later. I said “Cool” and then looked through my change because I know they constantly try and trick me. Either that or they just cannot count.

She had given me R32 change. Essentially I was paying R18 for a 500ml bottle of water. Minus the R1 she said I could fetch later and it’s R17 for the water. So I queried it and she said “Oh yeah” and gave me another R10.  But she did it all so cool, as though she always scams people like this!

Last time I was at Woolworths I was mistakenly charged twice for something and the lady at the till could not apologise enough, she really did not mean to short change me by R20. But this women selling water probably does this fairly often.

But my absolute favourite trick is when they say “Sorry we don’t have enough change, come and get it later” They know that it’s small change like R1 or R2 and nearly everyone will forget about it. Yesterday I did. I couldn’t care less about losing R1, but at the end of their work day, I rate they have made a decent amount of extra cash by saying “We don’t have change”

They know Cape Town at this time of the year is crazy mad, and that they should make sure they have change. They know that you will forget about the money and they can pocket it. I don’t really mind, it’s not like they are making millions of rands off of it. It’s not The Health and Racquet Club after all! But if they want extra cash, just add it into the price of things.

That way they are making more money, but I don’t feel cheated as it were.

Otherwise it was a good day. A little bit hot for me after 3 hours in the baking heat though. I was sweating SO much.

Thought you might like to know that.

Sean Lloyd

Editor 

I spent a decent part of my life trying to be intellectual all the time, trying to make a meaningful contribution to conversations. Then I cruised into high school and met the craziest bunch of people of my life. We literally took everything as a joke and everything we said was sarcastic. I don’t recall a day at school where I actually bothered to be serious. And that is how I came to live this life: Through a network of friends that will probably laugh at me if I fall over and break something, and only then help me up. But I would do the same in return, so it’s all fair.

That brings us to the section of the Misverstand Diaries where we just clowned around, literally the entire time! Between wake boarding, skiing, knee boarding, tubing and putting on SPF 500 we managed to break all the rules. Because that what we like to do; break the law!

It was quite a natural and serene setting we found ourselves in, which was naturally broken once we arrived. This might have us banned from attending in future, but you only live once, so max everything out. Which is what we do. I remember the one morning, the peacocks had come to our door looking for food. I took one look at the beer in my hand and said to this bird:

“Not a %&#$ buddy! Go drink at the dam.” I said, SCOLDING the bird.

Brendon, being a more upstanding member of society took to the kinder side of his heart, and crumbled up his bread, and fed it gently to the birds. For a moment I looked at the birds, in their natural setting, and realised that man and beast can work as one. As a harmonious team. It nearly brought a tear to my eye. It was then that I realised that this was a new side to me. The sensitive side that will cry when a butterfly dies, or shed a tear for the bee that drowned in the dogs water bowl.

Brendon: Sensitive

But I realised everything I am based on, and everything I have lived for my entire life, has been based on having a laugh and at times being mean in order to be funny. Realising that I hated the new sensitive Sean, I downed my early morning beer and slammed the bottle on the table, FURIOUS that I had two sides. I don’t want a sensitive and a daring side. I want one side. I don’t want to be schizho. I’m not like a piece of paper; there is only one side to this story, and it’s the devilish side. With my beer now fallen over, I took a run up from inside the house to fool the birds.

The poor bastards would never have seen me coming. I shot out the door like a rabid cheetah and bounded past Brendon who was shocked at my sudden arrival. I leaped and start frog hopping after these little buggers, determined to give them a good run. All they had done the entire time was eat our bread and walk around. And we all know that leads to weight gain. I didn’t want fat peacocks around. So I took them for a run. As captured by this action shot, I’m the best personal trainer around.

Anyway, I heard one of the birds chirping me:

“Hey Sean why you so skinny? Eat something. Oh look you have Wednesday legs” The bird said.

“What did you say?” I replied, snarling my top lip.

“I said you have Wednesday legs. As in ‘When’s dey gonna break!’ Ha ha ha! ”

“Well done bird, so you think you funny? You think you are suddenly Mr Ricky Gervais?”

“Yes I do”

“Listen bird. I’m human. I have the keys to a 4.0L Jeep Wrangler and it will mangle you. I will literally drive you into the ground. Don’t mess with the bull young bird, because you’ll get the horns”

“Try me” The bird replied back.

With that I casually walked inside.

“Charlie give me the keys to the Jeep. Now.”

“Why?” Charlie enquired.

“Because I said so”

At that Charlie threw the keys like a boomerang, and the keys swung into my hand. I fired the engine up, and two minutes later the last thing the bird saw going through it’s mind was a massive tyre.

Bird: Trashed

“How you like them tyres?” I said to the bird.

It never replied.

After the fury the bird caused me I wanted to break more rules. The first rule to actually breaking rules is to find the rules in the first place. We found a little sign saying “No stone throwing” We looked for not a stone, but a rock, and threw it. Funny enough no one bothered stopping us.

Breaking the law! Breaking the law!

We literally set the place on fire(Figuratively…in a literal way…whatever…) with our wicked witty styles. Naturally after punishing one bird, the others never learned their lesson and we did not want to have to take the Jeep out again. So I recruited something more bio-friendly. Yeah…I used one of the cats that had been bouncing around all nimbly bimbly from tree to tree, drinking milk out of a saucer and eating mice. I set it upon the peacocks.

Four birds. One puss. No boots. No mayhem.

Unfortunately it was too lazy and did bugger all.

Do I have to do everything around here? I realised that we had spent too much time with these birds and just decided to leave them to their own devices.

They have no idea what life is about. Especially the language barriers encountered in this area…

(P.S Naturally no bird was actually harmed in the making of this fine piece of literature. The bird in picture was already dead when we arrived. So before you go all PETA and SPCA on me, chill out…I’m not that mean!)

Sean Lloyd

Editor 

As you all know, SLXS decided on a little trip down to Misverstand for a couple of days last week. Just to clear our heads, get away from the fans and carve up the dam. Arriving in Misverstand was no easy feat and we had many obstacles to overcome before we could sprawl ourselves on the deck of the boat with a beer in our hands and the sun bronzing us. We left our home town of Cape Town, as we have to bid her farewell from time to time in order to get more out of the surrounding areas, and bring you tales of a life of excess and adventure.

Obviously when driving anywhere in the world you are going to find FOOLS on the road! The road to Misverstand is absolutely peppered with long distance trucks, and you are forced to sit behind them like a naughty little kid. It’s not really a problem though because these guys are just doing their jobs. But then we get other twits inhabiting the road, who we just want to punch.

The drive in the Lamborgreenie was one of absolute hilarity, as my driver, none other than Charlie V(Himself) went ballistic at all times. Firstly, when piloting the Lamborgreenie at 140km/hr(Possibly faster, but let’s not mention that, it’s not exactly street legal) down a highway, it is imperative that we have a clear right of passage. Unfortunately, some people were put on this earth to stop our chariot from driving full speed into the Misverstand dream. We had cars pulling out in front of us at the most inopportune moments, forcing a full pumping of the brakes, and full use of foul language and the bird. More on the bird in a moment.

The road is also highlighted by various alarming things. It is as dry as the Kalahari, and at sections where you think there must be no life, you will find a guy riding his bicycle, wearing long pants and talking on his cellphone. You feel like you are in some sort of twilight zone out there.

Then there are the times when you think that it is the most boring piece of road you have ever seen and then something happens.

“Wept, there is the cheese mouse!” I shouted to Charlie V

“What the f&*% is the cheese mouse?” Charlie V replied, agitated that we were sharing the road with such fools.

“I dunno, some sort of cheese place out in the middle of nowhere. Dude this place is strange, don’t stop, it feels like one of those weird movies where if we stop we will definitely be slaughtered and fed to the inbreds.” I replied.

The road to Misverstand is a weird one. You are driving along, minding your own business and listening to Bob Dylan, when out of nowhere, a damn cheese place called “The cheese mouse” pops up, literally scaring the last bit of life out of you. The life that is left after the 45 degree celsius heat has sucked your soul out. That is no joke, on our day of arrival, the temperature guage on the Jeep Wrangler let us quietly know that the mercury was pushing a cool 45.8 degrees celsius. Which is great if you are a camel. But not cool if you are a city man of excess.

I thought I would die on the road to Misverstand. I was just waiting for night to settle in and for Charlie V to take a wrong turn and we end up, two best buddies, struggling for survival as the cannibals close in on the scent of our sweetly fragranced sex panther to which many ladies have fallen prey. And now we are the prey. I never let Charlie V know this though, and instead acted ice cool the whole drive up.

I was constantly interrupted by the swearing of a trooper, as Charlie dug deep to find the particular filth that was flying out his mouth. It was actually more poetry than anything else, as to hear language of that calibre was more of an experience than a shock really.

“*$&%# #^&@ get the %*&$ off the $%&*!@# road you $%&#!” This was pretty much the theme all the way up to Misverstand, and all the way back home from Misverstand. It’s humour like this that you cannot find on a cereal box.

Naturally we had some fool pulling onto the side of the road in front of us, necessitating thighs of thunder to slam the brakes into action as we had to avoid him not only to save our car, but our entire lives(Everything you people reading this no doubt live). People have a thing for just randomly slowing down, no indicators, and pulling to the side of the road. What on earth they pull to the side of the road for in the Misverstand area is completely beyond me. It shatters me because trust me, there is bugger all to see on those roads. Unless your current fetish is for harvested corn fields, stray dogs and 45 degree celsius heat. Oh I’m sure we can throw in a couple of cannibals as well. They probably come out at night. The Witching Hour. The Human Harvesting Hour.

Naturally we have more than one mode of transport(Choppers, Hummers, The VR3) and we needed to move the boat around at Misverstand, so the natural choice was the Jeep Wrangler 4.0L. That car is the most fun you can have with your clothes on! Not to say that we drove it with our clothes on. What would a week away be without some naked midnight driving?! Keep that on the down low, it’s not exactly society legal.

The Jeep Wrangler. Personal philosophy? Clothing optional…

The Jeep Wrangler is more of a jet than a car, and the power it holds is quite scary. Look, it’s safe to say that it’s not quite safe for the environment, but soon we won’t have to worry if the world gets itself into gear and makes the TESLA ROADSTER commercially available. Obviously this is electrically powered. In order to startle you more(Than I already have in our short relationship) I will blind you with the fact that our Pretoria boy Elon Musk is the brains behind Tesla motors. He also started a little thing called “Pay Pal” You know…you might have heard of it. In the July/ August edition of GQ South Africa, they mentioned that USA Today estimates Elon’s fortune at some $200 million. Clearly a case of having a few pennies rolling around the piggy bank. Well he did sell PayPal to eBay for $1.5 billion, so that explains a lot.

But you might be thinking “That just means you will charge the Tesla Roadster with electricity at home, that is produced from burning coal”

No no, SLXS have thought of this. Add in some solar power cells at your house, maybe let the government invest in some GEOTHERMAL POWER and get our scientist chaps to work on nuclear fission. There we go.

BOOM! Loads of electricity to power our cars.

So that’s that discussion sorted. Now back onto the Jeep Wrangler. I’m pretty sure the Jeep is the car you would use to tow your Hummer if it got stuck. It’s also the car that let’s people know that you are laid back, enjoy a good time maybe with some fine wine and that you like adventure. It’s actually a lifestyle vehicle, as opposed to just another form of transport. It says a lot about you. Cool, calm, collected, devilishly handsome, tanned, toned…OK well that’s enough about me, how about you darling?

I’m joking. It’s just that it’s Boxing Day and it’s clearly Millers time. SMS the number under the cap for cool prizes.

Look I’m getting sidetracked. Anyway, the boat we were using was not global warming friendly either, with a little Yamaha V-Max with 200 horses under its hood. This necessitated Brendon driving the Jeep up to Misverstand with a cool 125 litres of petrol laden inside it. If Brendon had crashed, it would have literally caused a nuclear explosion. I wasn’t too worried though because I was not driving it up. As my parents always used to say “Rather safe than sorry!”

How do they fit 200 horses in that small thing on the back?

So in all our excess we had a 4.0L beast for the road and a 200 horse power animal for the water. At the rate we were going, oil wells around the world were screaming in agony and Al Gore was shouting us down, like those teachers at school did. You remember the ones? The ones with no kids, who acted like they actually hated you and they hated their jobs. The ones that would keep you in at break times, and you would think “Is this your way of making yourself feel powerful? By keeping a bunch of school kids in at break time?” Those same teachers who you walk past now and say “I win”

There are of course the other teachers who were awesome, and we now share a beer with them at Forres and give them high fives when we see them.

These are the cool teachers who we don’t give the bird to. No, we keep the bird saved for special occasions, like those occasions where we are driving to Misverstand and people just pull to the side of the road, no indicators, which makes our lives flash before our eyes. We keep the bird for them.

Giving bad drivers “The Bird”

The Chariots Of Fire section will lead us swiftly into the next part of The Misverstand Diaries, aptly entitled “The Class Clown Sessions” Stay tuned(Or dialed up or whatever you want to call it, Einstein)

Sean Lloyd

Editor

I can’t believe it’s already Christmas tomorrow! Actually I can…but it seems that the thing to say just before anything happens is “I can’t believe…” This is usually followed by wide eyes, a deep breath and a drop of the jaw(Females especially love the drama of these situations, pushing the limits sometimes). Why can nobody believe anything happens these days? “Oh my God I can’t believe another year has gone by!” and “Oh my God I can’t believe how quickly the kids grow up!” What’s not to believe?

Anyway. So after spending the week in the hell fires of Misverstand, I was back to the place we call home just in tome for some weekend shenanigans. We ended up doing a family and friends vibe at the summer residence of choice, the Llandudno pad. This was on Saturday. Much time spent bronzing lent its hand to bouts of dehydration which were cured by Savannah, Woolworths beer shandy, beer, water and a nice afternoon Weber with chicken and the leg of a lamb rounded off the occasion.

Llandudno- Not the worst place to be

The weather was spectacular and after bending the day, the only thing that seemed right to do was take the 5 minute walk from the house to Llandudno beach. Not too bad, not too bad at all. The bags were packed with all sorts of stuff to eat and drink, and we watched the sun miraculously go very low over the ocean, and all of a sudden it was gone. It seems like the other half of the world was keen for some sun, so Cape Town lent it to them for a couple of hours. It was fine though because it came back. It seems it always does. It’s nice though, because the sun only leaves Cape Town at night, which is when it is dark anyway, so it does not really affect us.

Sundowners at Llandudno- A necessary part of the excess life

Oh can you feel it!

On the other hand, if the sun buggered off when it was daytime, and hence light, we would be in a predicament. It would be light outside, minus the warmth coming from the sun. This would trick our bodies. It would be light and cold, which would have my body too confused to function. It’s too scary to even think of…

Conversation of the day was peppered with musings on how blindingly beautiful the view was, how much longer the food needed to cook, how many more drinks were needed to be bought, how much sunscreen we should be using and again what a beautiful day was. All this conversation was terribly stressful and I found myself walking in and out of the house, wondering if the view of the ocean was better from the couch in the lounge, the chairs on the patio of from the pool. The pool won on the day, and as we sat there with our feet in the cool water, the sun beating down on us and plenty of friends, drinks and food, we all wondered what could be better than this particular day in Cape Town.

I obviously mentioned that a bit of a helicopter pad in the garden would be ideal, but that idea was scrapped knowing that the noise of Terry flying the chopper in would probably irritate the neighbours no end. It would be funny though. Take the chopper from the house to the beach. You know…just for a laugh. It does seem a bit excessive though, even for my taste.

Sandy Bay is near the Llandudno house, just thought I would let you know. For those of you unaware, Sandy Bay is where people go to tan kit off. Not quite my choice in life. IMAGINE trying to explain to someone why your main boy is standing to attention, saying “Oh no it’s just the pleat in the pants. It’s actually an optical illusion. I’m actually taking the pants back now, to the pants store” Only to realise you are not wearing any pants.

Look this is not to say I ever get a pleat in my pants on the beach and have to lie on my stomach while my body gets an uneven tan. I’m OBVIOUSLY just talking in generalities, and have heard via the grapevine that this has happened to people on the beaches of Cape Town. It’s actually all hypothetical really.

No really, it is.

My pants don’t even have a pleat.

I’m sort of off the topic, but what I wanted to say is that if you find yourself in Cape Town on a day that is beautiful(Pretty much any day), then make the trip to Llandudno for some sundowners. It was good, real good.

I need to go now, the shops are going to be a mess of people as everyone does the last bit of Christmas shopping.

I actually can’t handle it, but I’m going to have to.

I could think of nothing worse so wish me luck.

Sean Lloyd

Editor

Such is the life of leisure, pleasure and excess that we find ourselves going on a little excursion to Misverstand near Cape Town for a spot of braaing, wakeboarding, chilling and maybe even some late night streaking.

I received an sms with the following in it “Prepare to enter a week of excess you little bitch!”

Look I do feel for you. I’m sure a closed office this time of the year is extremely hot. But do feel for us…it is going to be scorchingly hot in Misverstand! Obviously this will be offset by Misverstand being a DAM! Ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha!

It’s going to be glorious. Suntanning, probably a quiet little braai, a little evening drink, late night chats at the fire discussing our plans to dominate the world of leisure and pleasure even further, discussing world domination plans and generally discussing ways for us to lead a more excessive life, filled with laughter and friends.

I need to go pack my bag. I think I will just take some sunblock and boardshorts.

Don’t expect fireworks shooting out of your screen this week, I’m only back on Thursday or Friday.

I know you are going to miss me but I will be dreaming of you.

–This– is me leaving.

Soon…

Sean Lloyd

Editor 

Obviously today was a public holiday in Cape Town. Don’t ask me what it was for because I have no idea. I actually was not aware that there were any other days on the calendar. I thought chilling was just a part of life. Anyway I decided that we should probably celebrate just for the sake of celebrating and at the last moment sent the VR3 through to Midmar liquor store in town to get some drinks for the chicks that we were to invite over.

Knowing a fair amount about drinks and girls, I knew they would enjoy a Savanna as the boys cooked a meal fit for a king in the Weber. I was cruising through Midmar in town, in my element, when I thought I would try out a couple of the Savanna “Chill Packs”

Savanna Chill pack- Chicks dig it!

It’s quite clever really. What they have done, is made a box of 12 Savanna’s(Enough to feel the loving feeling) and packaged them inside some sort of inner lining that is water proof. So you get home, fill the box with ice, and leave it on the patio or beside the pool. It’s like a mini fridge of Savanna.

Chicks dig Savanna but they dig this party pack even more! The first comments were the usual “Oh my God that’s SO clever” Thanks darling, we all know that I am clever.

After that the comments were more to my liking “Sean will you marry me?” I thought I was going to get lucky! No such luck though…

Seriously though it was crazy and the girls were looking at me with that loving look in their eyes. And all I had done was spent a few hundred bucks on drinks!

Once all the food was cooked we were not quite in shape to eat and so ended up cleaning up the party packs before the ice even had a chance to melt.

I’m just letting you know though, that summer is going to heat up and you are going to need to keep the girls happy. And while I trust you are hanging out with smoking hot models this summer, I also trust that you want to keep them cooler than dry ice.

Which is the perfect reason to invest in Savanna’s chill packs. Buy them, fill them with ice, light the coals and watch the women fall all over you.

Ha ha it’s marvelous! Ha ha ha what a glorious summer! Ha ha ha!

Ha ha ha! Hee hee hee hee! Whoooo hoooo hooo hooo! Chuckle chuckle chuckle!

Thanks SAVANNA!

Sean Lloyd

Editor

“Sweet mother of God” I commented to myself as I piloted the VR3 through the pristine landscape of Stellenbosch. The comment came in reference to the number of places that I was passing that were somehow involved in the manufacture of alcoholic beverages. I had seen Distell, J.C Le Roux, Van Ryn’s brandy, Welmoed and a whole host of other places manufacturing pure goodness from the earth. In fact, Van Ryn’s brandy and J.C Le Roux fall under the Distell brand. Distell must be laughing, knowing that they can get the whole of Cape Town pissed at any time if that’s what they wish to do. Cool party trick.

“It’s…it’s…it’s beautiful!” I said out loud as I removed my sunglasses, fluttering my eyelids as though I had just seen the light in life.

This place was too good to be true, and although I had been to Stellenbosch many times before, I had forgotten the beauty of what actually brings the big bucks into Stellenbosch. I eventually arrived at Jerry’s place, not really that amped to move all his possessions out of his place. I arrived, and we transferred into his car, The Black Viper.

” Fo shizzle dizzle, it’s the big Neptizzle, with the snoopy dee- oh double gizzle” Was blearing over the speakers in the Black Viper, replacement for The Bomber.

“Jerry this is SICK” I commented.

“I know” Jerry remarked, with a smirk on his face. There we were, two white English guys, cruising through an Afrikaans area, listening to everyones hero, none other than Snoop Dogg, who we all know but remember him from Old School. The contrasts were too much, but that’s what makes it so awesome!

We were in the area to move Jerry’s possessions into the new place, and we planned to do it ourselves. However, as we are men of leisure and pleasure, it did not quite turn out this way.

I arrived there and nearly had cardiac arrest looking at all the possessions of Jerry’s. It is astounding that someone who lives on his own can actually own so much. For the love of Gisele, he had a fan in his room the size of the Royal Astoria. Not to mention enough electronics to kill an army. From mixing decks to the 73cm flat screen to the X-Box and enough cellphone boxes to connect the whole of Africa. Jerry literally changes phones while he is speaking, it’s bizarre.

So we started packing all this stuff into boxes, not really taking care as to what was being broken or not. If anything broke, Jerry told me not to worry as we would just buy new stuff. I like the mans style. I was a little nervous when Jerry started shoving the TV into the box, literally hitting the top of it so that it would fit into the styrofoam that it came in. I have never hit anything as hard as Jerry hit that TV. It was glorious.

After packing all this in the boxes, it was time to pack it on the trailer and drop it at the new pad. Before that though we visited the petrol station, which was right below Jerry’s old place.

The view of BP Express and McHealthy from the old palace

I must just let you know that the talent walking around Stellenbosch is astounding. And due to the relaxed nature out there, minimal clothing is needed. It’s clear the people in Stellenbosch like nothing more than to have some sex. If you walk into a normal petrol station, you will usually find condoms, maybe behind the till. And then, there will be a small selection. Mother of Durex, the range at this petrol station was like a pharmacy of every condom ever made by Durex. And it was not behind the till, it was just chilling on the counter where you paid. Chilling there basically saying “You know you need me”

We then rolled to the new palace and realised that carrying all this stuff up to the third floor with no lift was not going to be fun.

“Call those guys over there” Jerry said, referring to some workers on a lunch break at the construction site.

“Hey guys you keen to earn some cash?”

They were up in a flash and walked out on their lunch to help us out. They had the trailer cleared of everything and had taken it three floors up to the new palace of excess. R100 for 6 minutes work was not too bad for the guys.

We rolled back to the old place and realised that we were not born to do stuff like this, rather we were born to party! We whipped out the decks and Jerry mixed it up while I smashed out a bit of soccer on the X-Box. That was more our style.

“I’m actually beat” Jerry said to me, after spinning the decks.

“Me too” I said after playing the X-Box

Just another day in the office for us

We then decided that we could probably move all the stuff out the apartment if we REALLY set our minds to it. As we said though we were born to party. A quick call was made to the removal company and BANG, everything was out of the apartment without us having to actually move from the perch on the balcony.

“These guys are quick, they stormed this place like it was Normandy!” I said to Jerry

“Yeah well for the money I’m paying them I’m expecting them to build me a new house as well”

“True. True.”

While they did their thing, we took the Viper out for a spin.

“Check this guys car” Jerry said, motioning to his right hand side.

“Ha he must be POOR!” I remarked sarcastically.

“Check this out”

Jerry began to wind down his window, and said to the guy in his panty dropping Mercedes AMG

“You must come right with that car!”

The guy looked at us, gave a smile and floored the accelerator, leaving us to eat pieces of tar as he drove off into the distance and into the heart of the Stellenbosch dream.

Interesting things are be seen in Stellenbosch, and we had out fair share of visual delights. One such thing was a car with the logo “The Bonsai Guy” It said that you can hire Bonsai trees for special occasions. Um…ok. I have always actually had a fetish for hiring Bonsai trees to make special occasions even more “special”. I guess each to their own. Some people just hire strippers. Naturally. Other interesting things to be seen:

This beauties orange Land Cruiser:

And this hero’s motorbike, with a luminous yellow windshield vibe thing. I mean come on! Are you serious? It was outrageous.

No surely not?

We stepped out the Black Viper in an absolute blaze of glory, and noticed to our left hand side a Fidelity cash van, no doubt carrying loads of cash.

“We should rob it” Jerry said

“We should, there is some good cash to be made. Obviously after I remove 100 bullets from my frame” I smirked

“No seriously we should do it. I can tie the guys up with the tape we just bought”

“Yeah and they not going to resist idiot?”

“Lloyd you idiot, I figured this out already. You’re eating peri peri cashew nuts. Throw them in the guys eyes, I will tape them up and we can make some money right now”

“I’m not sure, it sounds a little dodgy”

“Yeah I suppose”

We rolled back to the pad and everything had been emptied, and we were off to the new place. I cracked open a Just Juice(Jus Jooce), and admired how hard we had worked. It was then that I remembered Jerry’s birthday party at the old pad earlier in the year.

We were on the balcony having Jager bombs when we saw this women, about 50 years old, and started chatting to her, telling her to come upstairs for a drink. She was laughing but seemed like she would have been keen. It all went downhill from there as we all started to act like we really wanted her. My shirt lifted and I remember tweaking my nipples or something. At this pointed I was tempted to shout “Got MILF!” I never did though.

But I’m sure the new place will also have it’s parties where new memories will be made, new drinks drunk and we will surely take the excess to a new level.

Look I should go now before I divulge too many details about what happened that night…

Sean Lloyd

Editor

The end of the year signals sheer debauchery for most businesses, as bosses try and outdo themselves over last years office party in order for the staff to stay on another year.

It’s usually the booze and the serene setting that has people thinking “Ah I guess the boss is not that bad!” I may as well stay on another year instead of starting my own multi million rand empire. I mean why not make the big guy rich, he has after all supplied us with loads of snacks and booze, Kerry from accounts is here and she wants me, I no longer have to beg for an annual increase of 75 cents, the water cooler has given us some great conversations and the boss says that I am part of a bigger plan, and I must be calm for now because one day he will make me rich.

If you have a normal boss, there will be the annual booze up somewhere around Cape Town as the boss toasts to his Bahamas holiday and you toast to a holiday spent swimming where the beach once used to be at Lookout in Plettenberg Bay while kids kick sand all over your towel.

However, if you have a nice boss, who is willing to spend a shilling or two on you because he did after all only pay you R300k this year even though you brought in R50 million worth of deals, then he will do the following.Naturally he will give you a MASSIVE raise, pay off your car and then have a little end of year office drinks party. Off of Clifton. In the Princess 57. Drink in hand, other hand turning the meat on the braai, sunlight bronzing your sculpted guns, tanning oil everywhere and a smirk on your face knowing that you are going to kick the boss overboard later. Sheer bliss.

Ooooh drink it in Cape Town!

What? Your boss is just taking you for lunch for the end of year party? That’s despicable! I tell you what. Forward him this link and let him know that you know he is in on some shady deals. If you are lucky, he will be in on some shady deals and will wonder how you know. He will then be MORE than happy to hire out the Princess 57, fill it with more food than the craft table on the set of Little Britain and he will give you a major raise. I’m talking huge. Millions.

How do you get hold of the Princess 57? I will tell you. You go over HERE. That takes you to David Abromowitz yacht brokers in Cape Town, who will, for a fee directly deducted from the fat cat’s account, give you a choice of boats. But the Princess 57 is what we are looking at.

Let’s not stuff around. So to all the fat cats in power at Cape Town businesses, up your game. Your staff are onto you. SLXS are onto you!

And you know what that means? There is going to be a lot of ass whipping if I see you taking your staff on anything LESS than the Princess 57.

I’m watching you.

Sean Lloyd

Editor