Morbid, macabre and magnificent.

Some children have a terrible time of it.

Their parents drop them on their heads and treat them badly, or their brother holds them down while their other brother tickles them till they fart. Or their mother's start drinking gin at three in the afternoon and listen to show tunes.

It's these children who grow up to become wonderful artists, or clever writers, or insightful directors.

I suspect that one such child is Dimitri Tsykalov.

He made these:




It's skull art. Made out of apple cores.




And watermellons, and cabbages:

Morbid and macabre, but somewhat fabulous. And totally environmentally friendly as far as art goes.

I suspect it was either make these or become a serial killer. How lucky are we that he chose the former.

Confessions of a Virgin Loser

My friend Edyth is an author. She writes amazing things.

I met her over breakfast two years ago at the Franschhoek Literary Festival, where we were staying at the same BandB. I was awestruck. She was a real author with books and newspaper columns published and everything. And she was speaking at the Festival. And she was speaking to me. She was my hero.

I tried to act cool when I met her, but inside I was freaking out. She was lovely and generous and gave me advice on my mangy manuscript that wasn't quite finished yet.

Two years later and she's talked me down off a ledge a couple of times during the launch of that mangy manuscript that became A Million Miles from Normal, the book. (Which you can buy by clicking on the image of the book to your right, by the way.)

Okay enough nostalgia, here's what I really wanted to tell you about before I got stuck in a daytime soap opera (mandatory ad break included) and gushed about her for four paragraphs.

Edyth is writing quite a bit of young adult fiction these days. Well they call it young adult fiction, but I'm an old adult and I dig it too, so how does that work? She wrote The Club, which terrified me and then Pops and the Nearly Dead, which charmed me. And more recently Melly, Mrs Ho and Me - which is really fun and clever. The heroine's name is April-May February, what's not to like? If you have teens they'll love her writing, and chances are you'll get stuck into it too.

But now she's gone and done something really interesting. She wrote a young adult story called Confessions of a Virgin Loser, that teens can download onto their cell phones for free off the internet. True story. It's quite smart I think, we need more young people who choose to read.

It's all the brainchild of The Shuttleworth Foundation, who run a site called Yoza. (Author, Fiona Snyckers wrote an m.novel that is there too and well worth checking out, amongst others.) M.Novel, that's what they're called, these cell phone downloadable stories.

Anyway it's a great way to get kids into reading. Edyth's story has been phenomenally successful with something like over a 100 000 hits on Yoza.

And now she's started a blog that details the journey of writing this thing, it's like being backstage when she wrote it. And every couple of days she posts a new chapter, i think we're as far as chapter four, so you can still catch up quite easily - each chapter is about 200 words, so it's nice and easy to read.

The blog is called Confessions of a Virgin Loser, check it out, you might enjoy it.

Retard Barbie

Recently it was my BFF's daughter's fourth birthday. (BFF stands for Best Friend Forever, just in case you aren't still in high school and you don't follow Paris Hilton.)

For four she's certainly a girl who knows what she wants. She only had three requests. A Princess Party, a pretty dress and a Barbie Cake. I'm impressed, it took me to the age of thirty to figure out exactly what I want, and even then the list still changes, depending on my mood.

So the Barbie Cake is where I came in. I like to bake, you see. I can't cook for shit. And have been known on occassion to burn both air and water, but I can bake. So we set to work.

We baked.

And we baked.

And we decorated, and we decorated and we decorated.

Let me tell you, it's about a million times trickier than you would think.

You think ah, a Barbie Cake, how hard can that be, right? You just make a big roundish shaped cake, then you pull off Barbie's legs and shove her torso into the cake, and then you ice. Using the colour pink liberally.

Well yes in theory, simple. In practice, not so much.

  

Before I started my Art Director/Life Saver and I went online and downloaded some references, and in the process found some examples of what NOT to do when making a Barbie birthday cake:

A 'Porno Barbie' Cake, probably not such a good idea for a bunch of four year olds.

Ummmm... 'Cling Wrap Barbie'. She's kind of scary. And what's with that crazy pink molten-lava looking icing?

'Retard Barbie' is particularly scary. What's with those short strange zombie arms? Shame, let's rather call her 'Special School Barbie', it's way more PC.

This next one isn't so bad, but does illustrate one of the tricky areas of making a convincing Barbie Cake, the skirt has to be deep enough to be realistic that she's standing under there, otherwise you get into this weird sitting down scenario:

Ah, another 'Special Needs Barbie' Cake:

And 'Just Plain Strange Looking Barbie' cake:



So with these mistakes to avoid, we set to work. Terrified we were going to make something awful, and with Charley's Bakery on speed dial, just in case we needed to put in any last minute orders, we set to work.

I bring you: Pinkie's 4th Birthday Barbie Cake: 

Okay, so it's no major masterpiece, but I was super relieved that it wasn't an horrific monstrosity that would give those little girls nightmares, or be responsible for years worth of therapy when they grow up.

There was a scary moment, when we pulled off one of Barbie's arms by accident and then couldn't get it back on again. She was almost 'Special Needs One-armed Bandit Barbie' Cake.

But thanks to a pair of tweezers, a bottle of wine and some super glue, we were good to go in the end. 

So, what's it going to be next year Pinkie? Cell phone cake, mermaid cake, Manolo Blahnik cake? Bring it on. I've still got Charley's Bakery on speed dial.

Totally random

I just discovered awesomeness.

And it's mostly due to my very wonderful, clever, funny, fabulous friend who writes this phenomenally funny  blog, Goatville. I learnt about this awesome thing I'm about to rave about in this post on her blog.

I'm a huge fan of Wikipedia. Straight after Uncle Google, Mr and Mrs Wikipedia are my go-to guys. Whether I'm wanting to learn about butt plugs or miniature Shetland ponies, Wikipedia is the place to go. Mr and Mrs Wikipedia, if ever there's anything I can do for you, please just call me. (No need for me to give them my number, you see they know it already, because they know everything.)

But did you know, and this is the new thing that I learnt. Did you know that wikipedia has a 'Random Button'? That's right. A 'Random Button'. How fricken' awesome is that?



I had no idea! Where the hell have I been hiding?

How did Wikipedia know that I like random stuff? And smutty stuff? And weird stuff. And random, weird, smutty stuff. They are genius mind readers, I tell you, genius!

So I decided to take the 'random button' for a spin, to see some randomness.

First 'Random Button' click got me here, where i learnt about Echinopsis lageniformis:

'It's a fast-growing columnar cactus from the high deserts of Bolivia.'

See, interesting, informative, pretty, and if you ask me only vaguely phallic. (Well, I'm sorry, but it is.)

Then I clicked the 'Random Button' again and got this page:

It's on something called Diphallia.

And I kid you not here. This is true, sirius, legit.

Diphallia is a medical condition when a boy is born with two penises! Really, it happens. Okay, granted, not very often. Only a hundred cases have ever been reported since 1609. But still. How mad is that? And how random?

According to Wiks, sometimes they lie side by side and sometimes one on top of the other. And depending on the situation the owner can usually wee out of both of them, and again depending on the situation they can have sex with both too. Okay I'm going to stop talking about it now, cos it's a little lot creepy. But my point is this:

That's how clever (and random) Wikipedia is. They totally get me. Even when they're just being random.

You should take the 'Random Button' for a spin, I highly recommend it.

One lost fist

You can't see me, well at least I hope you can't see me. And according to the laws of physics and science and reality, you shouldn't be able to see me. But if you could see me you would see that I am shaking my head.

No wait, that's not true. First I yelped a little, then I covered my mouth, and then I started shaking my head. It was a process that got me to the head-shaking.

After well over a year of trawling the internetweb for freaks and lunatics to bring you, I'm still astonished on a daily basis by some of the crazy stuff i come across.

Exhibit A:



WTF!

Where to start.

First, what the fuck that this dude woke up with a rubber fist in his bed.
Then what the fuck that it has a stains on it!
Then what the fuck that it's one size fits all!
Then what the fuck that he's trying to sell it!
Then what the fuck that people are actually interested in buying it and have taken his number!

WTFF? (What the fucking fuck?)

Blowing chunks

I saw this in the newspaper the other day. It's an ad for a large local retailer's no-name brand of dog food.



Wait, let me get this straight... is it a bag full of chunks of dog?

And are you supposed to feed them to your dog?

I suppose it is a dog eat dog world after all.

And how do you get a dog to taste like lamb?

I'm confused.

The rebirth of cool

Some people are just cool. They can't help themselves. It's like having a beauty spot (or a third nipple), it's inherited from your gene pool and there's nothing you can do about it.

One such person is my friend Alexia. She's a stylist here in Cape Town, and she has a blog, called just cos.

Check it out if you like cool stuff. (Ha see, I got you there, who doesn't like cool stuff? Now you have to go and look.)

Here are some random images I pulled off her blog to give you an idea of the kind of stuff you might see there.

Skulls and animal heads on chains:


Reconfigured typewriter lampy things:

Chair-cases:

and paintings that make you want to lick them:

And minimalist:

And maximalist:

And the whooooole of joburg:

And of course, because this is Africa, some kids playing soccer:



and a drawing, that has a red background:

The stuff you find is beautiful, Alexia. Heart, heart, heart.

Say cheese, Jesus.

Every now and again comes along a business idea so clever, so powerful, so enormous and full of promise and potential, that even Richard Branson would get a woody just thinking about it.

This is one of those ideas.

I found this on that awesome website full of craziness, Regretsy.

Basically, whoever you are and where ever you are, you can have your portrait drawn with Jesus. Yes, The Jesus, of 'Baby Jesus' fame.

You send in your photo and for just $97, the portrait is all yours.

Here's an example of the artist's handiwork:



I can't read the author's name, but that's some finely crafted pencil work. Wow.

Jesus is the one on the left, by the way.

here's their blurb:

Hey look, you can add additional people, you could have your whole family portrait done with Jesus. It would be awesome. Or you and your hubby, posing with The Jesus. Even better send in your wedding photo and he'll draw you and husband getting married to Jesus.

I'm loving it.

Weenie weenie winkie

So I was just thinking about penises.

Oh, you mean you weren't?

Being the curious kind I was wondering about the world's smallest penis.

I mean there must be some dude out there who has the honour of having the world's smallest winkie. Surely?

I wonder if there's some kind of competition? That would be um... interesting.

My friends over at Wikipedia don't really weigh in on the subject. I mean they have a page on The Penis, of course, but nothing that really discusses teeny tiny weeny sizes. So i guess to them, size doesn't matter.

Over at askmen.com they say that the world's smallest recorded penis is 1cm. But they don't say who it belongs to or where he lives. And they sadly don't have any pictures. I guess the poor guy wanted to remain anonymous. So as not to be mobbed by hordes of desperate women, begging to shag him, probably. Or not.

On my small penis hunting travels I did however learn this choice little snippet - the non-erect penis usually measures anywhere from 8.5cm to 10.5cm from tip to base. But cold weather or going into cold water, or going into your bosses office, or having your mom walk in on you while you're having sex, can take off a good two inches. So there you have it, we're nothing if not educational and scientific here at A Million Miles from Normal.

Every day is a school day, as an old friend of mine used to say.

So from what I can gather, no small penis competitions. There you go marketers, an opportunity just waiting for your brand. I wonder who would sponsor it? A company who makes cocktail sausages maybe, or how about a toothpick company? It could work.

Now, I wonder who they would get to judge it?

For those of you who have a little extra curiosity on board, i did find a video over here, which contains a man with a really really small, tiny, weenie, little peenie, potentially the smallest ever (unjudged to date, of course). But watch at your own peril.

Clients from hell

Have you ever had a strange boss?

I once had this boss, he wasn't the worst, I actually really liked him, even though he was fricken mad. His favourite colour was white. His entire office was white and he only wore white clothes and he would only eat white food. True story.

So thinking about him, made me think that it's been a while since we visited one of my very favourite websites, clients from hell.

Let's see what new gems these fruit loop clients and bosses have to offer:

I'm lucky, all my clients and bosses right now are awesome (and possibly reading this post). But seriously, people come up with some mad shit sometimes. Gotta love it.

My heartbreak

I never write serious stuff here. I just don't. It's not that kind of place. But you'll have to forgive me just this once. My heart strings have been plucked since hearing the story about the fucking douchebag prick fucks who doused a Big Issue vendor with water on saturday, so that's my excuse for getting all weepy on you.

A young man came up to me at the Woolies/Engen on Mill Street in Cape Town and asked me for a Rand. I work damn hard for my money. I'm sure you do too. Some days it feels like I earn every cent at least twice. So I'm careful who I randomly give that money away to. And in this town you never actually know what they want the money for. Food? Glue? Night shelter? Tik? It could be any or all of the above.

So my question is - How do you know?

I looked in his eyes - this thin, young man, full of potential but so in need of help, and I tried to understand his story. What's led him to this point? Does he really need my help? Does he really want my help? Can I make at least a small difference in his life? Or does he just need some sucker like me to hand over some coins so he can fix his next hit, or share it with the boys.

ME: What do you want the money for?
HIM: To buy bread.
ME: Go get the bread.

wait... wait... wait...

ME: Um, no, wouldn't you rather buy brown bread instead of white bread? It's so much better for you.

So he disappeared and returned with a loaf of brown bread, and I bought it for him.

I always wonder when I say no, what if I gave this person R20 and that was just the small step up, the little boost they needed to not feel entirely lost and alone, or absolutely starving.

How do you know? How can you tell? What's your policy, if you have one?

Sorry, back to tits and ass and smut tomorrow.

Is that an organ in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

I was doing a bit of a music search for a work project recently and I came across a track using windpipes. Or should I say, overusing windpipes.

It's kind of an odd instrument, don't you think? To me it just sounds like hippies and whales and stinks of patchouli insense.

Speaking of instruments, the recorder is also really silly, isn't it?

And if I may say so, kind of phallic.

Oh how Hildegaard loved her recorder so:

They should just make them like this and get it over with:

Some instruments can also be called organs. The irony.

Then there's the triangle:

Which is possibly even more ridiculous than the recorder. Can it even be termed a proper instrument? Is there triangle music? Do you learn to play the triangle? Does it take years and years of dedicated eight hour a day practice, like the piano or the oboe? Perhaps, I wouldn't know, but I'm guessing not.

It's the instrument they always give to the more musically challenged six year olds in Kindergarden music appreciation class - ie: me.

According to wiki, wiki, wiki, '...the triangle is an idiophone type of instrument in the percussion family...'

Idiophone... bwahahahahahahahhaha.

Up your bum.

Just because the ordinary run of the mill, up your arse, brand of g-string isn't quite strange and uncomfortable enough, the powers that be in the universe have invented a new kind of g-string.

Check it:

That leopard print one is on sale on ebay, over here. Ebay! Gosh, I really, seriously hope it's not a second hand one.

Don't think i could cope with the thought of a second hand g-string being put on auction.

This contraption/g-string is reinforced with wire, and that's how it stays up.

Doesn't sound like the comfiest thing to ever hit the runway.

Here's another one in black:

and here's another one in Candy:

You go Candy, rock that g-string. Just maybe don't jump, or play volleyball in it. Just a suggestion. Use it, don't use it.

(Thanks for the inspriation Di.)

Reknit

This is a very cool website that's been on my radar for quite some time now. Haik Avanian is a designer who has set up a website called Reknit.


It's a simple but genius concept. You send in an old knitted jumper or scarf or something, and Haik's mom will reknit it into a sweater, or gloves or socks or something else and send it back to you so you can hit the catwalk.

Pretty rad, right?

here are some of the things his mom has reknitted so far:

It makes sense, right? We've all got some crap knitted thing lurking around our cupboards that we can't throw out because our granny knitted it, or it belonged to an ex boyfriend or we once vomitted on it on a road trip to Port Elizabeth, or some other sentimental reason. But it just sits in the cupboard gathering moth holes because we'll never wear it again.

Reknitting is the perfect solution.

Although why anyone would want to reknit that beauty is beyond me. What are those, chinese letters? AWESOME, and HIGH FASHION. I suppose the scarf they made out of it is okay too, if you like that kind of thing.

Clever plan, i love a good reknit. Now I wonder what kind of awesome thing mom can make me out of this:

or this:

What? Don't look at me like that, they were fashionable once.