Blog Archive

Strength & Vision? I doubt it

Fun and games. Went to the ATM yesterday, and something was terribly wrong with my bank balance. Somehow, the available balance seemed to have shrunk considerably over a matter of hours.

Turns out CABS, who I bank with (not for long), had increased the minimum balance on Gold Class accounts (not as larny as it sounds) from $500,000, about US$6.25 – this is just to maintain the account – to the princely sum of $5,000,000, yes, 5 meters, bar, large, whatever you want to call it. US$62 in real currency.

Now, I wouldn’t mind if they did this and notified their clientelle, no problem. But for fuck’s sakes, I was in their banking hall on Wednesday, I’ve been at their ATMs, there’s been nothing in the papers, fuck-all notice of this change. And it’s a big change, let me tell you. I mean, how do you do this without some sort of…bloody hell, they have my email address, my home, work and mobile numbers, my postal AND physical address, and they just couldn’t be arsed?

What do they think this is? Damn, if only the service from Gold Class was any bloody good, I would also understand. This is the same account with a max teller withdrawal amount of $2m, and if you want more, if the teller feels like giving you more, they charge you 1% of the extra. Here’s an idea, you buggers, how about *raising* the withdrawal amount and stop charging for it.

Makes you wanna muller someone, it really does. Is this what Zimbabwe has come down to? When banks can treat their customers like this?

Welcome to the candy shop

Well, another Saturday, another hangover 🙂 What to do? Go down to the Inter-Bank games and cruise for chicks, that’s what.

So I hooked up with my boys went to have a look. Damn! There were honeys all over the place, they had a beer tent (of course) and a really *really* loud sound system. So yeah, cruised around a bit, had a coupla brews and just saw the sites.

The Tetrad netball team, especially, was something to behold. Wish I was a rich man, and so on and so forth…

Livin la vida loca

Joy

Went down the Scud last night and had a few beers with me mates. Somewhere around the 7th dorp, someone passed me an invite to La Dolce Vita (yes, the restaurant at Avondale). Now, I haven’t had much time for the place, but I went along to have a look-see.

Fuck me gently! Walked in there, and the place was hopping with some of that old-skool flavour. Damn, it was like walking through a time machine, all those lovely soul/rnb rhythms from the 90s.
So we partied, although it ended up turning into just “another” club, you know when the usuals start streaming in, and the music changes to run-of-the-mill shit, hip-hop/pop/bullshit with a sprinkling of house/kwaito thrown in. Ordinary.

So went to Stars for a bit, had a beer, then of course visited Tipp’s around 4am for a couple of wind-down beers. All in all, a pretty rocking Friday night. Lovely.

One Night at the Scud & Nanny

Yes, it rained – sort of. Light showers, as you call them, not enough to green up Matabeleland but a top effort nonetheless. You know that irritating light sprinkling in your hair and on your shoulders. Peeps were traipsing into the pub like there was free hairspray samples at the door.

Chilled with the crew at the Scud, waited for the Liverpool-Chelsea “match”. So there we were in our corner, screaming and hollering for the Reds, and the ref misses a couple of clean obvious penalties! For fuck’s sakes! Bleeding heck, the bastards drew *again*…what does it take for us to win?

Bleeding Crouch lumbering around up front: the geezer drifts too deep anyway, and it almost defeats the purpose to punt high balls to him cos he’s too weak to win them anyway. Anyway, why am I whining? Cos we had the posh bastards, that’s why. No worry, there’s always Sunday.

Had a laugh, though. As always.

Phil Collins lyrics, anyone?

Looks like the rainy season is finally upon us down here in sunny Hahaharare. After a couple of really really hot days, up to 40C in places, it seems someone’s about too flush the Great Toilet In The Sky.

It’s late afternoon, and today began blistering hot, but since lunch-time it’s gone nice and overcast, a welcome relief let me tell ya. Took a walk through town, and man…the summer-wear! Ha, wet t-shirt heaven if it rains, belie’dat!

I don’t mind the rain, really, and after the past coupla days I’d be welcome. I wonder if the New Farmers have a crop in the fekin ground? Wouldn’t be nice if they got caught with their pants down-again.

Anyway, if it rains tonight, I’ll be comfy and safe in the Scud & Nanny, watching Liverpool (hopefully) taming the Chelsea beast. Roar!

What a weekend

Joy

It takes only one drink to get me drunk. The trouble is, I can’t remember if it’s the thirteenth or the fourteenth. (George Burns)

That about sums up my weekend…what a party. Firstly, last week was pretty ordinary, so I couldn’t be arsed to write anything, cos sweet fuck all happened until Friday.
So…we have a company get-together, playing tennis, swimming, lamb on a spit, booze and spouses, the works. Yes, I took a spouse 🙂

Anyway, we partied hard, then went to Platinum Lounge…which was booting. For the first time in ages, I actually took a woman to the club – not that I don’t got dates, mind, it’s just…you know, what if you find a takeaway. Really, movies and dinners I do, but never club. Anyway, I digress. Plat was rocking.

Had a liquid breakfast on Saturday at the Scud and Nanny, watched football all day (fuken Liverpool drew again), then drove around a bit with my homie Tre, went to Stars and…fell asleep in the car park. Woke up at 0430 when it was time to go home 😀

I was so pissed, I thought I’d take a power-nap in the car then join everybody else in the Studio, but that was it for me…lights off, man down. How pathetic is that?

So all in all, a good time was had by all, and I had a rocking weekend. More tomorrow.

Sucks to be me

Okay, so I may be feeling a bit sorry for meself this Monday morning. Gawd, what a crap weekend! Sitting at home, doing nothing but watching telly and DVDs…that sucks!

Finally got to watch Coach Carter, that was alright, nothing like a good sports movie. Although the featurettes on the real Coach and his team were more interesting. But that wasn’t the low-light of my weekend, good folks. I saw Vin Diesel in The Pacifier, and what a load of tripe that was! I mean, is this guy for real? Talk about a career-killer?!?!

Okay, maybe that’s an overreaction but seriously, It’s been a while since I watched a really painful movie, and that has to rank down there with the worst of ’em.

Back to the matter at hand, I missed Rock Down Harare, how I was so looking forward to that (there’s something about rock concerts. y’know? drunk white chicks…) *and* I missed my beloved Western Province getting wired by the Bulls *and* I missed Liverpool’s bore-draw with ManUre. That’s why my weekend sucked. No sex. No alcohol. No sport. Just telly, movies, babies, books and guitar practice. Sucks to be me….

Rewind, man selecta!

Joy

So I’m sitting here chained to my desk listening to Buju singing Batty Rider. Awesome tune, and it’s got me thinking: where in Harare can you listen to sweet old tunes, not necessarily by genre but just feel-good, memory-invoking, foot-tapping massive tunes?

I’ve only had good vibes at Circus on a Friday, and of course at Cousin’s (that’s Tipperary’s to the uninitiated). Wouldn’t it be nice to just throw an old-school party? By old-sk I mean nothing recorded after, say, 1995? Cancel out the last ten years of bubblegum pop, fake-ass rappers (Lil’ jon? what the fuck is that?) and all that Goonit mess.

I’ma throw a party one of these days, throw down some of that Buju Banton, Chaka Demus et al, Lakeside, Ronnie Hunt, Cameo, Kool G Rap, Eric B & Rakim, Dre, Pac, Westside Connection, BBD, New Edition, oh damn I get chills just thinkin about it. Rewind back to the blazer boy (thanks TKM) days, my people, and just feel the music.

Now, wouldn’t you come a party like that? Time to get organising, AT!

Long and hard

Joy

Banish that thought from your filthy mind. I mean my *weekend* was long and hard…although I did have a good quiet Friday for the first time in ages.

Saturday was great though, took a drive with my homie T, then sat and watched a bit of the footy. Bloody Liverpool couldn’t beat Spurs, fekin Cisse couldn’t be bothered to have a go, and shyting cricket was on the blink. Jaysus. Then of course I went down the (Irish) pub and had a bit of a time – all you fellas out there know Tipperary’s on Fife is the joint.

And no, I didn’t get any take-aways 😉 Quiet-ish Sunday too, down the Scud & Nanny to watch more cricket, only for the fekin Poms to ruin it. It takes one ripper from Warney to beat his bat and Vaughan goes haring back to the dressing room…pussy.

Generally, nothing to report. I just wish I were off on some distant island, drinking rum and watching cricket. Eh? 2007? Right.

Are you Scotland in disguise?

So, England lost to Northern Ireland last night…bwahahahaha. As the Irish fans chanted the title of this post, Scotland were busy wiring Norway at the same time 🙂

I think Svennis should resign in disgrace, really. How the fek do you bring Joe Cole into the game for SW-P and then keep Becks in the centre? That’s just feking stupid. And for us Liverpool fans, how the fek do you play Stevie G wide on the left? FFS! How stupid can you get? That dude should stick to sticking it to (see what I did there?) secretaries and Italian babes.

Somebody buy him a yacht, and give us Kevin Keegan or, even better, Souness. What price watching Souey screaming his lungs out at Becks and Lampard, giving them an earful and telling them how “fucking shit” they are. Now I’d pay *good* money to see that shit.

Not that I’m an England fan, mind.