RustyGate

Piece of shit car, I got a piece of shit car
That fuckin’ pile of shit, Never gets me very far

My car’s a big piece of shit, Cause the shocks are fucking shot
And my seatbelt’s fucking broken, I got to tie it in a knot

I can’t see through the windshield, Cause it’s got a big fuckin’ crack
And the interior smells real bad, ‘Cause my friend puked in the back

It’s got no CD player, it only got the 8-track
Whoever designed my car , can lick my sweaty nut sack

And I got no fuckin’ brakes, I’m always way out of control
Eleven times a day I hear, “Hey, watch it asshole”

Oh what the fuck did I do, What the fuck did I do
What the fuck did I do, To get stuck with you
You’re too wide for drive-thru, And you smell like a shoe
But I’m too broke to buy something new …

Well the engine likes to flood, The car always fuckin’ stalls
And the seat cushion’s got a big rip, So a spring always pokes the balls

Plus the door locks are busted, I gotta use a fucking coat hanger
And if a girlie sees my car, There’s no chance I’ll ever bang her

Piece of shit car, I got a piece of shit car
That fuckin’ pile of shit, Never gets me very far.

So I walk up to the girl at Ballantyne Spar with two sixpacks of Mountain Dew in hand (the fact that I was buying Mountain Dew should have been alarming in itself, but anywho).

I’m hungover, I’m sweating, I have no power at home and it’s blistering out. So I’m in no mood for shit. Shit ensues.

She looks from cans of sugar-water to me, back to cans, back to me.

“Do you have changed money?”

Me: “Do you know how much the drinks cost?”

She: “No, but I do know I have no change at all,” indicating the till clearly stuffed with nothing but large bills.

And by large bills, I mean nothing smaller than a ten. Hey, I’m a Zimbabwean, gimme a break.

Me: “Well, if you don’t know how much it costs, how can you assume I’ll need change? Why don’t you just ring it up, please?”

She: “Do you have exact money for the drinks? I won’t be able to give you any change …”

Me, clearly annoyed: “No, I don’t have exact change. The stuff costs 9.90 and I have a fifty, so no, I don’t have exact money.”

She: … blank stare …

Me: “That was sarcasm.”

She: … confused, looks around, maybe for a supervisor …

Me: “Just ring up the drinks, the change doesn’t matter to me.”

So she rings up the fucking six-packs, and is pleasantly surprised when they tally up to exactly $9.90 as I’d said. I hand her a fifty, and she sheepishly says to me …

… “What’s sarcasm?”

P.S. - To hydrate either the flu or a mild hangover, try Mountain Dew. For a strong hangover, use beer. Just saying.

Everybody knew that Ruan Pienaar is a star in the making.

The question was always a positional one, with the laaitie preffering to play at half-back, even though he can play across the entire back line.

Judging from recent perfomances, especially yesterday’s master-class against (a rather lethargic) England, I reckon he’s found his true calling at fly-half.

I can’t help comparing him to that other great outside half who started his international career at scrum-half - Stephen Larkham.

This boy’s career is gonna be Legend. Ary.