Don’t forget the pink sweat towel, babes.

Friendship. Ah.

There is something special about the bond that develops between two fake idiots. No matter how frustrating the level of pseudo-love can be, how blatantly useless they are together – they still persist.

And the cherry on top? That curtailed platonic friendship between a Poppie™ and her Jock™. As He languishes to stick his tongue down Her throat she plays the innocent victim, stealing away his hopes, crying out for nothing but a hug – a love story doomed forever. *sniff*

Demonstrated by these two fine fuckers that are part of my courses at varsity. It was Stats. Just as anything can save someone from that subject, the boy and girl sitting in front of me persisted – and succeeded.

The lecture had just finished and the retards decided to open their mouths:

Boy: Hey – what you doing now? Let’s go chill at the steps – I’m over psych.

Girl: Ah – I can’t hey. I’m heading down the hill.

Boy: Cool – I’ll join you.

Girl: Uuh… I’m running coz I have to get back up before my next class.

Boy: Okay – I’ll just come with you.

Girl: Uuh I’m running pretty fast down the hill hey.

Boy: How fast…? Like walking? Slowly?

Girl: No – running.

Boy: But like a jog right?

Girl: Nah don’t think so – I’m doing a full-on sprint.

Nevermind the fucking unbelievable image of Twiggy doing a full-on sprint down Table Mountain, God knows why he didn’t agree just to torture the bitch.

But – I’ve voted the Jock as the fucktard in this episode, kids.

Life lesson #52: if she’s wearing 3 layers of make-up – she won’t want to sweat. She’s not running down Table Mountain.

You. Just. Got. Played.

Skip the Coke and invest in a leash.

I HATE WHITE KIDS.

What do I hate even more than white kids? White mothers. Who treat their self-righteous piece of shit as if it’s god’s gift on earth.

Yeah – motherly love and all that bullshit. If your child is hurting, maiming, and/or harming another individual you are expected to do something about it – YOU are responsible for that cut-off until they turn 18. And don’t give me that bitch-ass, “How dare you tell me my child is stupid!“. They are dumb. Deal with it. Buy them a book or send them to school. Don’t stand there, Hitler, as if nothing happened.

And no one does anything about it. There is a shared assumption amongst most white mothers (an underground cult) to not interfere. More formally: “If another mother’s kids are wrecking havoc I will not intervene as I went through the same shit when I had kids that age and I sympathise with them.” They then walk away with a smile, “Wait until it reaches 16.”

These are those moments where I stand back and sigh, “Godwhyme.” In fact, it was yesterday. I was at the supermarket doing my monthly oh-my-god-I’m-broke grocery shopping. It seemed ordinary enough, despite the fact that it was, yes, a Saturday. For those of you who have never done grocery shopping on a Saturday morning – don’t. IT IS FUCKING HELL: Endless queues, no space, shitloads of pissed-off people and god damn hot.

Anyway, as I was pushing my trolley through the Fruits and Veggies section of our resident Pick ‘n Pay I noticed something rather peculiar. (You must understand that in the Fruits and Veggies section all the food is stored on these huge wooden shelves.) In front of me I saw two kids chasing each other. They must have been brother and sister – or at least rather close friends – and not older than, say, 5.

No sooner than them running past me had they discovered the kiwi fruit up ahead. They each picked up a kiwi and threw it back onto the shelf. That’s once. “Aww, cute, look at the fuckers throw.” They picked up some more kiwis and threw them back onto the shelf. That’s twice. Unfortunately, third time ain’t lucky – they picked up the kiwis and decided to roll them on the floor.

I could see where this was going. After having fun playing soccer with the fucking kiwis they decided to push it one step further: the two reached up, each grabbed a kiwi, turned around, and threw them across the supermarket. Once, twice – fuck knows. I was too busy dodging flying kiwis to notice.

Three other people saw this happen: old rich bitch A who had a kiwi massacre the side of her trolley. Dumbfuck farmer B, obese and unable to move. And, finally, the mother. She came along and told them to stop it. No shouting, no screaming, no grabbing of the arm: the bitch quietly told them to stop launching kiwis across the supermarket.

YOU, dear woman, ARE AN IDIOT.

The two kids quickly hurried on, laughing and shouting, to the Frozen Vegetable section. The last glimpse I got of the two horrors involved them trying to push over a shelf of bottled sauces. The mother? Blandly looking on. “D’oh.” Fuck-up.

In the end, despite the fear and hatred that evolved, I guess I kinda laughed. I mean, how often are you hit with a kiwi in a supermarket? I fucking love life.

As for white mothers and kids – they can all die.

It’s god damn exercise you moron.

There are a few places in the world where you just know there will be a dumbfuck waiting to be released.

Perhaps it’s the environment. For a lot of people, trying to manipulate that level of normality in contexts that are just not normal can be tough. Shame for them. Most of us succeed, and we move on as if nothing really happened – as if we conquered the moment.

However, there are a select few bundles of joy that don’t manage to achieve this status and – well – they Fail. For whatever reason (I’m going with genetic) they just don’t seem to understand the “rules” that persist in our everyday lives – don’t jump the queue, don’t drive on the wrong side of the road, don’t commit suicide in the middle of McDonald’s. And within all these environments, there are those fuckers that are not ashamed of coming across as a total waste of oxygen.

Why am I speaking about ‘environments’? It deals with today’s little episode. In fact, it almost involved the loss of another human life – so ‘little’ is hardly the word. Unless we’re referring to IQ.

One particular environment that does not cease to entertain me is the GYM. I go gyming three times a week. It’s dandy, it’s fun and I get to look good. I also get to look at how many sad and unhappy fuckers there are in the world – the fat ones, the ugly ones, the ones without a partner at the age of 70 – if you thought going to the gym was purely about your health… yeah.

Anyway, everyday I drive to the gym. There is a parking lot outside where everyone gets to park their cars. In fact, there are about 5 parking lots – but because it’s designed like crap on a wheel we can refer to it as ONE parking lot. During this particular fucking ‘moment in the environment’ there was a middle-aged white male in front of me driving one of those rich-ass 4th generation Pajeros with no fear whatsoever.

Ahem. Let me correct that: NO FEAR WHATSOEVER.

After breaking to a stop several times in the middle of the parking lot(s) in order to scope for any free parks, he decided to accelerate his white ass and handbreak a corner. Noting this, I took a left to (a) steer clear from any potential accidents and (b) to fucking save my life. However, the roads all meet up outside the entrance of the gym – where there are a total of 7 parking spaces. That includes the 3 disabled ones (yeah I know – at a gym).

What this guy then did was unbelievable. He had obviously noticed that one of the 7 spaces was open. Coming around the corner at top speed, narrowly missing the arm of some mother walking with her daughter, he slams on breaks and swerves to avoid the two teenagers trying to cross the FUCKING ZEBRA CROSSING. Backed up within 3 inches of another car and turned into the parking space. The one 10m from the entrance of the gym.

He then got out, locked the car, proud that he didn’t have to walk – say – that EXTRA FUCKING 50M from an ordinary parking space, and entered the gym. Got on the treadmill. And did a 5km run.

Sometimes in life everyone is faced with contexts that require us to be reasonable, to think, to have a level of social fucking sensitivity. For some, this does not make sense.

And that’s where I step in.

To the girl on the bus: I fucking applaud you.

Every morning I take the bus shuttle to campus. A perfect environment for The Idiots to reveal themselves: small, close-knitted, and fabulously boring.

Except for today.

Generally I don’t spy on people’s happenings – but this woman made it all too tempting. With bright pink lipstick, platinum blonde hair and eyelashes to reach Kenya with, she only managed a napkin around her waist. Boobs everywhere. Nails polished. Typical symptoms of a self-esteem not far below Paris Hilton’s.

Anyway, enough about her (lack of) image. What interested me was her cellphone. Actually, her sms she was reading. It was one that she recently sent to someone and had saved it on her cellphone. And then looked at it over and over again:

“Baby im so happy to have you in my life you make me feel so amazing i just want to be with you now baby thinking of you.”

After managing to get away from such a work of art, she flipped quickly to another sms from what I assume was the boy that she sent the previous one to. This is why I fucking love life:

“Babes I know you make me feel amazing last night i went out and saw all these hot chicks and all i wanted to do was get with them but then i remembered i have you and no one can compare to you.”

Well done on finding such an amazing guy. I’m sure you’ll have lots of fat suicidal punk-kids that’ll hate your divorce. Idiot.