its official

today is a public holiday and whilst most are out and about or running through the storm that has hit these here parts i have officially lost my mind. i am not talking the 'kluck kuck jibber jibber your ol mans a mushroom' crazy, nor the funny haha type but rather the absence of sanity, too many sandwiches short to be classified as lunch, type of crazy...

i have spent the better part of the day cleaning a living space that isn't my own. i completely devoted the entire day to scraping a lino floor on my hands and knees with a kitchen scourer. this kind of attention to detailed cleansing wont be found after the most dedicated maid has given your spot a once over....

whilst scraping the 47th now clinically clean crystal white square of bathroom floor it was confirmed. i had crossed the line into the world if the ludicrous 47 tiles ago. i hadn't breazed my way past sanity into the realm of the unknown, i had made a gazelle like leap into the heart of the insane and was lapping it up like candy floss...

strangely this little coming into being didn't make me cower back or shunt myself into the walls of my padded cell but rather i merrily plodded onwards, vacuuming, dusting, flooding a kitchen, breaking a washing machine, yes the towels are trapped in the cycle, and now i am going to leave.

a slice from the irony pie

SP has been trying to leave to go overseas for as long as i have known him. in fact it has become as much a part of his genetic code as his double helix. there has always been something to get in the way, a new play he was going to direct, the empty promises of writing for a sitcom, some bit part in a forgotten commercial, a girlfriend that would only later dump him and the list goes on...
however finally he is/was going... he got a visa to work in a foreign country, was making real attempts to sell what he calls a car to anyone that needed some spare metal, booked his plane ticket was almost packing his bags and leaving on that jet plane and then he went to a casting.......
today he gets a call from the director, he has a call back, they have emailed him the lines to read for a bigger part and he may be off to military training to become the next jarhead to hit the small screen.....
its too much, the trip is on again off again more than you can rock the baby or do an eifel tower on your spiffy super slick coke yoyo. his retort is that at least the filming is 'out of the country' tho still on the same continent.
weirdly for the first time ever he is in a win win situation which is not usual for our eeyore who really is the doom and gloom of any situation, so heres crossing fingers that later we get to take the piss out of the makeshift accent and super gi fly hair crop that he should be donning...

the same day

this is how things should be done
go to store to purchase jeans and they don't have your size the clerk
(a) laughs hysterically through their upwards and downwards glances at the oddity that is your frame
(b) offers encouragement that once upon a time they had your size and you are lucky you are so small
(c) offers to phone another store
(d) phones another store reserves the pair you need and ships them over to you

ok so life isn't automatically being given option (d) but lee cooper made a good attempt.
they managed to locate the size i needed, after exchanging a size bought for me that was too big for a size that was then too small, in another district to where i live. i organised for them to be couriered to me, the stores courier takes on average a month - tip: change couriers...

when the jeans arrived there was a problem with the stitching that had come loose at the knee, a strange place to loosen which, caused faith to be lost in the rest of the stitches holding true to their nature...

promptly they were returned and their reply, 'what a stitch loose, crap, so sorry, can we get another pair, crap noone else has your unique size, take another pair of jeans? no, take a credit note?' thanks a credit note would be splendid and i'll be back to get heaps more of your beautiful product...

hliton weiner could learn from their management style...

things fall apart

i bought a shirt from hilton weiner and low and behold it has fallen apart. the shop clerk was as shocked as i was, when i looked down from my key board to find that there was a hole where beautifully woven cotton should have been, when i presented him with the broken material.

my primary reason for shopping at such a grossly exaggerated price in relation to quality store was just that, the price was supposed to relate to quality. not only does the shirt now brand beautiful holes where it was once attached through inadequate stitching but the 'hand stitched' thread that was 'sewn' into the fabric has also unraveled. the result is that instead of a sharp looking collar it looks as if moths have attacked it, thread hangs off the back and the thread down the front had to be cut by yours truly on the said date in order to prevent looking like a homeless person...

the store apparently couldn't give rocks about the mishap. upon presenting the pieces of yarn to their clerk i was told 'sorry we no longer stock this shirt', 'sorry we don't do refunds', 'sorry we don't do returns', 'sorry we don't give credit notes', and my personal favourite, 'sorry we cant set off the cost of this piece of useless material towards the cost of another item from this store'.

i fail to see how any of the above policies applies to the given situation. you tender an item for a price, if there is a latent defect you are liable to respond to a demand for compensation or there is an enrichment that surely cant be justified by the currently enriched hilton weiner. the fact that you no longer stock an item, ignores the fact that the item stocked is defective. the policy of no returns shouldn't and cant apply to items that are defective or we could all sell crap and hide behind our 'no returns policy'. not realising that the matter could be handled simply by replacing the defunct piece of crap with a pristine, crisp, surely never to be faulty item, would result in happy customer reporting on good management, illustrates a lack of competence....

failing to accommodate a customer with a valid complaint equates to poor service. following your inadequate management of the given situation with no response and failing to fulfill promises of following the matter up with a supplier results in blatant lack of regard to your customer. not reporting back to a customer on your lack of reliability results in a world wide revue of your inadequacies.

in due course

when i am big and all grown up and stuff and i have harnessed the fine art of dumping i will know that i am fully developed and finally an adult...

there is a skill, it takes years of training and has been passed down roughly since the beginning of time. it might appear that everyone has been doing it for years, you know the general ground work but no one does it like a principle and a clerk.

the art of delegation is the skill of making it seem that everything passed down from your bored little hands is of the utmost importance and can only be completed by a highly skilled individual.

tired of using a phone to talk to people - delegate to your clerk to bug the sheriff or court to demand the documents that you needed last week, busy planing your next important lunch date -delegate to your clerk to draft papers that a typist with a little skill could knock together, feeling a little hung over from drinks after work - delegate to your clerk to trawl through the legal texts to find your answer to that pertinent question enabling you to solve your litigating nightmare...

the grasshopper is learning quickly and soon others will be privy to the inter office memo to consult with the court over a file 07/226L who's papers dont seem to have been returned from filing...

the bottom of the cespit award goes to...

once upon a time there was this belief that a good start was several lawyers at the bottom of a swimming pool, or something thereabouts. today i believe this adage has got it all wrong.

there is a specimen, a thing, that is lower than the lawyer... yes folks this is possible so stay with me on this... they lurk in the back waters, leering, pretending, siphoning info when they can get their grubby little paws on it, they are the 'journo'.

the journalist, as the species prefers to be known, is more akin and at home in the comfort of others misery. they sit huddled in groups giggling, pointing, sniggering and diving in at the scraps with more skill than the most highly evolved sewer rat.

all day long they assume the guise of the gainfully employed. they travel in packs a little like hyenas. they bandy about like the mean girls in high school and relish the demise of anyone who falls victim to their version of the facts.

long gone are the days when integrity, fact finding, or truths were the pinnacle of this profession. today what sells is what is reported, the story as would be best cast on the greatest stage. its irrelevant who's or how many lives are smashed in the wake of the 'news' seeker, in fact the more the merrier and what is worse is it is all done under the farce of public interest...

the reality is that shares and market relations control what is published and how the story is told. from the horses mouth 'i knew the story was inaccurate but what could be done? i had no control over it the editor went over my head'. its your name at the top of the article, no proof reading necessary then? yeah apparently literacy isn't a requirement in this profession...

privilege anyone?

enter phase two in the going to court spectrum of what is my working day... the visit to the client in the holding cell.

hand mobile phone over to scruitinizing guards behind a desk almost too high to see them over. wait for guard on other side of thick iron bars to decide which key on the bunch fits the lock and enter the other side. sign the book, name, visitee, time, reason etc... guys in shackles mosey on by one geisha step at a time. into room with desk, chairs, customary bars and wait for client...

this apparently is luxury. i haven't yet had to go to the prison to interview anyone but promises have been made that the next time there is reason to make the schlep out there i will have the honour. these here are the cells that hold those on the 'high fliers' list out front meaning that they are getting their day in court unlike the other innocents that have been sitting for the past two years or longer on the awaiting trial roll...

if you dont want to do the drive to the penn you can request that your little cargo gets shipped in and then gets to spend the day in a different lock up so this could be fun for both... the advantage here is that there is a room that you can sit and chat in, unlike the yard you are expected to make do with at the prison. there is no luxury of privilege, you have to hope that some dirty rat isn't listening in on your strategy to beat the latest murder rap and better believe that those in cell block A wont be turning state to get their stretch reduced from 15 down to 5... yip still a striving to uphold them constitutional rights 4 all...

has it risen?

does anyone have any reasonable authority on the what not to's over pesach? i realise that much matzah munching is required but what of other things?

can you eat cute fluffy sweet delicious little mirringgue's (meringues)? are rotti's acceptable? do you sit on the eating of rice fence? what of pasta? cake is obviously a no no which goes for biscuits and other deliciousness ... pizza? i am hazerding toward a no here too...

i need real authority not just a no you cant. i understand the reasoning for bread, the symbolism attempting to be achieved, but if you look at the matzah, is there really a difference between it and a rotti? so why not the rotti and if not the rotti then what with a curry?

to date i have followed the rule to a letter and not knocked down a single fence that i know of in the abstinence of the bread variety and stuck with all that is unrisen but there are unanswered questions that cant be ignored - like why i have to decline a delicious salomi when it is made from the same stuff that the matzah is made of?

tonight is the end of the risen foods segregation from the diet and it hasn't been so hard being that i don't eat bread anyhooo but not to eat rotti and curry, that has been killer...

to draft or not to draft

i have taken it upon myself to alleviate the deathly tone of one of my principles and draft an affidavit opposing an application for summary judgment myself... this is no mean feat what with the whole '0' days experience i have at doing this, but he seems reluctant to answer a single query i have so, if it sucks we know where the blame lies - my head obviously...

i have read, read and read very many cases - the art of lawyering is knowing more than the other side, not necessarily uber important what you know but you must know more, so onward with the reading. i have found very many a case which question the skill level of my opposition and his ability to responsibly discharge his duty to his client and at the risk of sounding conceited led me to wonder what he was so pucker about on the telephone - obviously dealing with a clerk has led him to believe he can rest on his laurels... au contraire monsieur! never underestimate your opponent, or a blood thirsty little clerk who has nothing else to do with the day than read and research while you lunch...

pms

i don't think those 3 little letters are gender specific. i think both sexes seem to suffer from a case of the fuck off out of my space that i have chosen to enlarge at no notice to anyone else who's nerves i am getting on cos frankly i don't give a damn...

the long weekend is over and i have a serious case of the where did it all go, what its over, where was i, why do i feel like i haven't slept in a week... then i remember the week i just had and the drain of the weekend which was apparently a necessary drain so i should feel positive about it and now i find myself falling asleep in front of the computer...

ok seriously, one minute i am drafting what seems to be like a pretty realistic opposition to a summary judgment application and the next thing i am saving myself from the embarrassment of the sound of my head hitting the desk...

i also seem to be struggling to relate to anyone with a smile on their face and have taken to ignoring those with a heart beat around the office, talking only when absolutely necessary and in order to save myself have taken lunch for the first time ever...

the end of this day never came soon enough

up shit creek

cs and i have hit a speed wobble, well its more like one of those speed bumps at the airport that slightly resemble a mountain that you take too fast in your vespa and next thing those biscuit tires aren't handling...

anyhooo i am not sure there is a way back or forward or any which way out to make this all better again. i don't know how i have mammothly fucked everything up and not even sure how we have any of the ideas that we seem to have confirmed in our heads.

this day has been disastrous since i opened my eyes to the blaring news screamed at me by the alarm, the weather was shit so canceled the waterskii arrangements - stupid raining fog, cs woke up in the foulest of moods - the computer to finish all the work that had to be done before plan b was initiated funked out and destroyed the schedule and since then we haven't had a meaningful thing to exchange with each other... i have lied to tj who's braai we were attending in the forest that my evil boss has called me in to work on a public holiday and all in the hope that there would be light at the end of what has become a week long gloomy tunnel...

now i am sitting in a strangers flat, gathered my stuff to make it seem as if i never existed and feel like the rug has been pulled out from under me and somehow i am the genius who did all the pulling?

and now its over to u bob for the weather...

ever noticed the obscure tone taken by news reporters. no matter what the subject matter it is always treated with the same air of importance, it is after all the news...

tonight however i was in hysterics as the tone deaf reporter attempted to make the story of a widower moving into a new flat with her adopted spca model cat, newsworthy...

well over to you teresa
thanks tom! tonight we are reporting live outside the new home in what can truly only be described as the most boring news story i have ever reported
yes, in a true rags to riches drama one cats dreams have all come true...
this little street hill billy is moving on up to high society
no longer will he trawl the streets hunting mice and screeching at dogs but rather he will dine in the lap of two bedroomed apartment luxury.
what was once a life that could only be seen as a catastophy, yes you heard correctly folks, i used the most obvious pun out there, is now a lesson to us all of how you too can make a difference in another obscure piece of news...
this is teresa hoping to keep her day job reporting live from no where important...

yip they are scraping the barrel and proving once again just how made up the news really is...

a sty fit for any species

have you ever house sat and walked into a place thinking what the fuck? not in a good sense but rather a what died, how long has this place been abandoned, is this really inhabited by humans kind of what the fuck...

at first i thought it wasn't that bad, no dirty dishes in the sink, minimal clothes lying around in one of the rooms and then i had to check that thought, minimal clothes lying around? these people have just gone on holiday and surely they took stuff with them? the wardrobes aren't that big or well used as everything is stuffed anywhere and more likely could be packed onto two of the shelves, if they were used. plus the laundry is full.

i try to sit down and ignore the aftermath of some bomb and cant find a single spot to sit on that doesn't creep me out so i continue on an investigative inspection... the bathroom definitely cant be used until sterilized, the kitchen needs similar treatment and the balcony seems covered in ash?

its weird cos the apartment is fully stocked with every cleaning product known to man and then some. it is like mary poppins went shopping and left everything at the trolls place to sort out himself... (well she is going to have to pick a few more things now...) so i have finished work and begun cleaning in stages. the balcony is de-ashed, surfaces wiped, floor swept, skirtings dusted. the lounge has had the same treatment and the bedroom now has floor space... there is one room and desk that i am ignoring and have shut out of my mind. the shower in the morning will be in a twinkle of whiteness and someone else will have to take the mountain of trash that the clean has built up out back...

i resign...

chag samaeg

ok, let me start by saying sorry, i can never spell hebrew in english correctly and as much as i tell myself that it should look as it sounds and it does, it never really is...

so matzos munching has started and already the shops are poorly equipped to handle the brevity of the bread fast. i refuse to give the names of either establishment i had to endure today because both are grossly inadequate and hence don't deserve the publicity, negative or otherwise! on a certain someones suggestion i left the shop i was in because i didn't recognise any of the brands as being what was usually bought and totted off to inadequate store no.1. nothing. not just nothing as in no matzos of the brand i wanted but no matzos at all, apparently out since sunday (the munching goes on for longer than 2 days bozo) and not even a pesach section, how archaic, how can you not support your consumers need? so back to inadequate store no. 2 to rummage through a selection of names i have never heard of. at least they had a kosher for pesach section...

i have had my first piece and it wasn't bad, not excellent, but not dry and tasteless, so good actually...

good festival to all and try not to overdo it on the vino...

when in africa...

ricky and his pals do their bit with a surprise celeb twist at the end...

this was in aid of comic relief so try take it as intended...

good times

today was oddly successful...

it started with a panic, late, jump up, out, throwing it all together at an exponential rate to get out of the door into what should have been rush hour but what was smooth, free moving, fewer than normal others on their way to the concrete world... hold on how late am i? ok clock check and i am moving faster than normal, going to be early? ha school holidays, gotta love them...

morning - tasks for the first half of your day: (1) check a high court file, (2) get an impossible amendment from the master and (3) ensure the divorce clerk gives you a copy of the order that hasn't been received...
of course your principle has a slight smirk knowing full well that only task 1 should be achieved, the others are merely for your personal agony and their amusement when you furnish them with governmental, inadequate, responses of why you couldn't achieve the set goal...
helpful hint - start with task 1 - the file has to go up at 12.... what? go up where? what r u on about?
but in actuality you smile and nod and realise that you will be walking in the 32 degree heat and have to stall the long way round because your plan of seeing the master first is stumped by completing task 1 first and if you head to the master after the high court you will smash into their 'we'r on tea time, have only been at work for an hour and taking a 45 minute break time'...

task 1 -registrar: oh you looking for the wednesday files?
yip, it's monday, two days before the day of trial, not yet 12, but i cant find a thing...
registrar - thats because blah blah blha i am making no sense but you will accept this as reasonable, not sulk about it, and tuesday and wednesday are seen as the same day so the file was sent to the judge friday.....

i'm sorry am i in a time warp? separate days are the same day
registrar - indeed! and as the file is with the judge you are fresh out of luck...
really buddy, which judge, give me the names we'll see about luck...

anyhooo the judges secretary has no problem meeting me, understands my pain and voila the file is checked, ticked, we are 14 on the roll, take that registrar 0 - candidate 1

task 2 - ok crap, nice girl is off sick, fat bitch clearly with reserved animosity for my slight frame is sitting at the desk... moving along and skipping straight past her into equally large but pleasant womans office...
hi! divorce order please.... wait 10 minutes, presto here it is and with a smile... heaps of thanks wonderful monday to you... some inside scoop on a relocation that they were obviously not going to inform anyone is happening and i am out of there...

task 3 - slow stroll over to masters office... shimmy into office of woman who was more than willing to help the last time and hit the first of many hurdles as promised...
no problem i take it on the chin and move to door 446: woman less obliging, no you cant wait for my typist to finish, cant give you an explanation and prefer to talk over than too you...... hmmm whats that the number on the file isn't actually your department? excellent later bitch...
up to the first floor around the corner down a long passage and into a sweltering filing room - man not looking happy.....
hi! super cow downstairs tells me you are the man around here go get my paper corrected on the double sweetass... off he skips ordering me to stay behind, he's off on a covert mission finding me later to send me off to door number 4...
no worries, another woman, flash a smile, explain my reason for existing in her space and she trots me back downstairs to door number 5...
large man, sweaty brow, woman leaves and he scrutinizes the file, hands me a paper and what'll you know, there, the amendment sits.. haha ha ha ha ha

back at the office - hi, here's your amendment, your order and the number on the judges roll with file checked and accurate, plus all the revenue stamps returned unused...
who's laughing now?

ooi u without an indicator

really i am trying, but damn if it isn't hard! i don't know why, but there is something we as a planet have to deal with, we have to commute to work. it ain't pleasant, no one really enjoys it and frankly if most could avoid it they would.

none the less you have to share the road, as much as you might despise it, there are other road users - though some seem oblivious to this fact...
for a while now i have had to share with many an incompetent fool, the types that make the court jester look like einstein or mugabe look sane...
there isn't a number for the amount of times i have asked where the fuck did you buy the license, u clearly flunked drivers ed several times and skipped out of actually taking the test, paid your how ever much of whatever currency and bingo are here solely to ruin my general trip back and forth from one point to another.

driving for dummies 101 -
1) to the left or right (depending on model of car) is a horizontal piece of plastic that can be flicked up or down. this makes the little orange decoration on the back and front of your transportation flicker... unlike a christmas decoration, this is not decorative but rather indicative of your general intention (if you in fact have one) to other road users...
this should be used when turning, swerving, taking out the car to your left or right, and preferably before doing any of the former... think of it as a courtesy heads up before blind siding your opponents, if you must...

2) if there is more rust on your transport of choice than there is paint it is probably not going to pass a m.o.t - not that you would know what this is, but trust me here, you shouldn't be in it on the road...

3) if there are 2 lanes on the road, no one in front of you and you want to travel below the speed limit, pull over into the left lane. the rule is: overtake on the right - not where ever and when ever suits you.

4) the mirrors are useful for more than makeup application and watching how much you annoy the person behind you... if there is a stream of cars behind you, you are holding everyone up... clearly you have trouble feeling significant cos the only place so far that you are significantly making an impact is on delaying everyone else who has someone, something or somewhere they would rather be than behind you...

5) most importantly wake up! if you want to sleep, stay at home, pull over, leave the road to those who just want to use it to get to where they have to be.

lesson over!

Persia 0 - Sparta 3

aah hoo aah, sparta!
never before have i walked out of a movie after 1am and felt such energy and alertness from an audience. from the majestic arabian steads that sweep into sparta with their god like, chiseled hottie that has come to let sparta know that slavery is a coming and like the rest of the conquered fools they too should bend over and take it up the batty, him being booted into the well, the sweeping cinematography, the indistinguishable beauty of the graphic paintings and recreated landscapes, the fact that i was totally fooled by the cgi, the genius of the spartan battle strategy fueled by freemen and the list goes on... i realise i started that sentence with a from and a too should follow but i cant seem to think of the end of the brilliance...

this is obviously not a movie to go and watch if you were looking for historical accuracy, real life drama and general mumbo jumbo history lessons...
hello critics, its a graphic novel, its frank miller, its artistic gratuitous violence...

plus somehow i walked out of there not feeling like i had watched a violent movie. perhaps my fondness of films like kill bill or sin city may have something to do with my subdued attitude to the walls of bodies that the spartans rack up? none the less there was a beauty to the way that the blood splattered, how it was dream-like rather than simple violence recreated on screen in a saw-like frenzy.

there was an emotion captured in this movie that seemed to override the fact that waves after waves of persian slaves were being ass whipped by buffed, looking for a good kill greeks. the fact that these men had 'trained' since childbirth, were beaten into believing that nothing was more important than dieing in a spectacular battle and that all of this was to protect their 'freedom' seemed to distract you from the fact that heads were being severed or torso's gutted and the like. their was a power in the drawing of the characters that translated off the screen into those watching, fueled them to wake up, look up, take note, and definitely want to come again!