The other night, I was enjoying the movie “A Perfect Storm” in the bedroom while stuffing my face with potato chips, chocolates and a can of coke.
It’s just a great movie, that’s all!
“What film is … is this that film about those stupid macho men who risk their lives just so they can catch some fish?“, my wife inquired when she entered the room.
“Honey, you obviously have no idea what you’re talking about. This film is about men versus nature and how, in this ultimate struggle, men find who they really are and what they fear“.
“What the hell? Did you just speak out of your ass? Anyway, how many time have you seen this movie?“. Continue reading
Something didn’t feel quite right. In fact, something felt downright wrong.
The sickening saliva started to moist the inside of my mouth - the type that usually precedes a full on projectile puke.
I slowly eased to the side of the road and, as soon as I found a patch of bush, the vomiting began. For someone who has done so only a handful of times in his whole life and can stomach rough seas while game-fishing, this was something else. It felt as if my entire maze of intestines was on the verge of surging up my throat and erupting out of my mouth.
No! In our house, Daddy gets the biggest slice!
Some people think I play favourites with my two sons. There are certainly valid reasons for this perception.
For instance, I tend to speak to my 7 year-old elder son, L, with a more gentle demeanour, but only because he is such a sensitive boy who can sometimes take things too much to heart.
I also admittedly talk about L a lot more to outsiders – a practice that merely reflects his burgeoning achievements (at school, in sports, even at home), owing to his conscientiousness and general desire to appease those in authority.
I am not much into accessories when it comes to running.
“You ran without me”?!
A cap? I can do without it, particularly as it tends to trap my body heat trying to escape through my head.
A pair of sunglasses? Don’t need them, for they often slide down the bridge of my sweaty nose.
A Garmin watch? A fantastic gadget that often reminds me to kick up a gear, but is certainly not indispensable. Continue reading
“You know how I know you’re 40″?
“You say the same shit over and over again”!
Some people say 40 is the new 20, or that 40 is the new 30.
Unfortunately, as far as I’m concerned, 40 is just 40, and no amount of figurative window-dressing is going to change that!
Don’t get me wrong, I certainly don’t feel like a person who will, next week, enter his fifth decade on this earth. For instance, I still feel cool and hip, keeping up to date with what’s goin’ dowwwn in the world of entertainment. This is despite the fact that, instead of making me feel all hanky-panky, the recent performances of some of the younger singers just make me want to give them a parental spanky! Continue reading