memoirs part 1 : regrets

Do you remember Bless bridges ? If you don't it's cause you're young and basically not worth sh!t. Don't assume anyone is interested in your opinions and basically shut the Fekk up , especially at the pub.

But if you do , god help your soul. Imagine Enriquo Englesias , then imagine he had a father named Julio who croned horrible europtrash ballades the likes of which abba ould sing without any implications of irony......while handing out roses to old women.

...if your fight or flight reflex hasn't kicked in yet and you've not either run away or broken your computer sadly we're not done yet. South Africa had it's very own lecherous old man who passed out flowers to old women while singing crap music. And he was afrikaans. If you , like me are unlucky enough to be related to afrikaaners like myself (and can't change it...trust me...I tried to the point that the doctors won't even take my calls anymore)and hve an afrikaans granny who is not dead yet ( and god forbid you've not locked her safely away in an old age home or general caged in area) then ask her about it. She'll tell you all about bless bridges, just as long as you ask her loudly enough( cause old people for some reason don't pay attention unless you shout at them. It's all the crack and methamphetamines if you ask me. )

Anyway now there's the really f#cked up thing. People , if I may describe the afrikaans community as such, really liked him. Every second week he'd be on huisegenoot or that show with that @sshole with the curlyhair and and the retarded child who plays the keyboard. Anyway I digress.

Once upon a time I was roped into running something called "the train race". I was too young then to see the utter stupidity of inventing a f#cking thing so you dont have to walk and then voluntarily running against it. Anyway , me and my team decided to let me run the ninth position. That's fine , running is not hard . It's like walking but you push down harder and more often in less time. But no one mentioned a hill. So I waiting around until my team mate got there eating boerie rolls until he rocked up. Low and behold he gives me a baton and I'm off......

Now if you look at it superficially running seems pretty easy. Do the same thing you do when you walk, except push down harder and more often with your feet. But take it from me running is one of those things that start of easy and then gradually and in my case quite rapidly get harder.

First the fist part women are standing here handing you out water and you're afforded the brief illusion that you're some form of hero and the target of much appreciation. But very soon this wears off in steep correllation to the pain....anyway , myself being a thinking person born and living in the years post the life of henry ford, didn't take long to come to a coclusion that went something like this.

"F#ck this , I'm cheating"

I hauled over the team combi and shuffled my way through to the empty cans of castle lager. Despite the fact that we were doing extremely well at the time there seemed to be very little dissapointment ammongst my team mates at my decision to do so. I can't help but think the two matters were related : Us doing well and no mass surprise when someone cheated. A cynical man might say I was not the only one to have seen out my leg of the train race in the combi.

Anyway , we come to the end of the terrible farce to a little town named Loerie. I don't have much to say about Loerie except it should be nuclear bombed. But you can't because people live there and trust me , I've looked extensively into it and it's a whole legal mess. I don't mean to disencourage anyone , by all means do your best, but the blue tape and paper work etc when it comes to bombing people is tricky to say the least.......but that's the world for you...beurocracy goes mad.


Anyway....here's the interesting part of the story. We arrive in loerie in like 47th place or something stupidly undeserved after droping off our one good athlete about 3 kays from the finish. By good athlete , I really mean "least likely to die running 3 km's". And low and behold but who should be there ?

That's right....there he is...right before me........ Bless Bridges !!

And I didn't have my nun chucks.

Now there's a process you go through when grieving I seem to remember learning about in those 5 drunk and stoned years called unversity that starts with denial and goes to anger , bargaining etc....I still haven't gotten past anger.

Angry at God , angry at my team, but mostly angry at the man who invented the baton !

....I mean would it have been that much harder to have added a chain and some hefty metal to it? Not to mention sensible ? A wise man just doesn't pass a man running with nun chucks without a crack in his skull for your trouble .......it goes without saying ! Running then would suddenly go from an insanely stupid form of recreation to taking on a very crucial purpose : culling off those stupid enough to do it ! Not to mention I' d have had something to smack the hell out of Bless Bridges with instead of just crushed beer cans to throw.

If I ever find the grave of the man whose short sightedness didn't see the lethal potential of the baton , I'm going to empty my bladder on it.