Friday, October 29, 2010

How to get to China. (ie: avoid work)

Bored?

Or have an urgent edit on your new novel that you need to finish ASAP.

Or have any other deadline, looming in front of your face like an ugly Rotweiller?
Excellent, then you've definitely got five minutes of your life to spare, that you don't mind never ever ever getting back again.
Then do this: (courtesy of the ever hilarious JoannaCourt)

go to google.com:




Then click on 'Maps' in the top right hand corner. (Top left if you're facing your screen, as opposed to being inside it, looking out.)

Then click on 'Get Directions':

Then type in 'Japan' in point 'A'. And 'China' in point 'B'. (I know I know, this seems like an awful lot of hard work. But trust me, it's worth it.

And anyway, you knowing how to get from Japan to China, can't hurt! In fact, it may even come in handy one day, then you'll thank me.

Then when the directions come up, scroll down to point number 43.

Then laugh your ass off.

Then go thank Joanna.

Bwahahahahahahahahahahahhaa.

Clients from hell

It's been an absolute age since we had any entries from one of my very favourite websites, Clients from Hell:


So I thought today would be as good a day as any for it. Particularly since it just so happens that today is my very last day of holidays. For on monday I return to work. Yup, girl's gotta earn a living.

There are some real doozies here. I just love them.


Bwahahahahahhahahahahahaaaa, Sepp Blatter can hear me laughing all the way in Germany.





And that one was from a guy client. Go figure.


WOOF!


And not all of them are clients from hell. Some are just clients from crazy:


Yay it's friday. Happy weekend everybody. Try to put monday out of your mind, that's what I'm going to do.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Why I hate the Book Lounge

Man I’m an idiot. You’d think I would have learnt by now. But no. ‘You silly girl!’ as my mother would say.

I went to The Book Lounge last night, to check out the fabulous Sally Partridge and the wonderful Sarah Lotz read about scary things, in celebration of Halloween.

Now I know the rules in such a situation. In fact the rules and guidelines when it comes to The Book Lounge are very clear. They have been specified and noted in triplicate, and I even signed them, initialling each page, and sent them back to myself by registered post.

Rule number one - Do not look at the books!

You are too weak, you know this. You are unable to just look at the books at The Book Lounge, without buying them.

And now look, your handbag is full of new books! Two of them, in fact.

Pretty Monsters by Kelly Link (Tales to keep you up all night) *shivers*:






and ‘Valeria’s Last Stand’:





I know, I know, Valeria’s Last Stand was on sale, for just forty nine ronds, but still that’s no excuse. As your granny used to say, you still have to pay for a bargain!

And I know the back cover of 'Pretty Monsters' says that it contains:


- ‘Ghosts of girlfriends past’
- ‘A scrabble-loving grandma’
- ‘An undead babysitter’
- ‘Possibly carnivorous sofas’
- ‘Duelling librarians’
And the piece de resistance:
- 'A handbag with a village in it'

But still. Come on! It’s not like you’re short of books or anything. If the pile of unread books next to your bed had to come crashing down one night while you slept, you would be trapped, like a Chilean Miner. It would take them months to dig you out of there.

But still you buy more books. What is wrong with you? You know the rules when you go to The Book Lounge, we’ve been over this before. Look straight ahead, or eyes to the ground. And if someone speaks to you, then you respond, looking directly into their eyes. NO BROWSING! Remember, that was the deal we made when our last credit card statement arrived.

And now what’s this, you got a list too! Hurriedly scribbled on your till slip on the way out the door, of other books you plan on buying next time you are there or in the vicinity of there:

Eleven, by Mark Watson:




And Four Drunk Beauties, by Alex Smith:





Seriously chick, if it's not books, it's shoes. You’ve got a problem. Seek help.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

What Salman Rushdie said

A couple of weeks ago I was lucky enough to find myself at The Cheltenham Literature Festival. The town itself is about two and a half hours outside of London, by train.


I spent nine days there, and got to see so many of my very favourite authors talking about how they do what they do. It was astonishing. I also stalked my favourite author, Jim Crace, a little, but I’m sure it’s nothing he hasn’t experienced before.

Not being much of a photographer, and not even owning a camera, I spent my entire time, head down in the sessions, taking copious notes. It was what I would imagine conscience students are like.

So I thought I’d try decipher some of my handwriting (perhaps I could have been a doctor) and type up some of the author’s comments as verbatim as possible and share them with a group of people I thought might appreciate them. Ie: you lot.


Salman Rushdie comes out onto stage with the interviewer, someone from the BBC. The theatre is packed, there are maybe two hundred people. When the interviewer reminds everyone to please turn off their cell phones for the session, Rushdie gets a surprised look on his face and then digs in his inside jacket pocket, pulls out his cell phone and turns it off, with a naughty smile. That gets a big laugh. I think we’re all so daunted at the sight of this legendary man standing in front of us, that we're just relieved he's human and that we're allowed to laugh.



He starts out reading from his new book, Luca and the Fire of Life. From what I can gather it’s part fairy tale, part fable. I soon realise I could listen to him read that entire book. He’s flawless. I'm sucked into a chapter about riddles. The characters in the story have many many lives, like in a computer game. And they are constantly hunting for more lives, and losing lives in the process. It's clearly allegoric on so many levels, but so simply put.


The interviewer asks him about the genre of the book and he says it’s a ‘quest narrative’.
Two of the characters are ‘Bear the dog’, and ‘Dog the bear’. I find that so charming, it makes me laugh out loud (and probably a bit too loudly) every time he says it.


He says this book operates in the space between adult and children’s books.


Here are a few other things he says that I write down as best I can, because I like them:


‘…why do people compulsively ask what it is? It’s like the Wizard of Oz, you don’t ask if it’s for children or for adults.’


‘Computer games exist so children have a way of feeling superior to their parents.’
The interviewer asks him how he feels about having his life threatened by writing something offensive. He says:


‘Well, it’s my view that Dan Brown should live. He can’t be killed for writing something that offends.’


Then they invite the audience to ask questions. Some chop in the back stands up and asks:


‘When you write, how do you do that?’


The audience erupts. Throughout the festival I discover that there’s at least one ‘stupid chop’ question in every session I go to.


But he answers with grace after only a mild and contained grimace:


‘It’s about sitting there till you’ve done something. It sounds a little lavatorial.’ he says. ‘I think sitting down is very important. Does that help?’
The audience erupts once more.


A few more snippets:


‘Writers have a little bundle of pain that drives them.’
On how people of different ages and levels of experience write, he says:


‘The old have control and fake fire. But the young, have fire and fake control.’
On a question about writing magic realism he says:


‘Writing doesn’t have to be a photograph. It can still be a portrait of the world, but a non-literal portrait. It all just depends what the story demands.’


People are fascinated by the Fatwa placed on his head after he wrote The Satanic Verses and most of the questions are about that.


He says that before the uproar over that book he was a big success in the Middle East. He says they even filched his third book, 'Shame'. He says they stole it and published a pirated version of it in Farsi. Which they totally would have gotten away with, except they went and gave it a big Farsi book award and contacted his publisher to invite him to accept it.


He said he recently met a man who had been an active and violent protester back when they were having mass burnings of The Satanic Verses. The man said to him after they had chatted briefly, that he had only recently read the novel, and he couldn’t see what all the fuss had been about.
Rushdie responded: ‘Asshole, you were the one making the fuss!’
‘Yes well, you know,’ the ex-protester said, ‘books aren’t really my thing.’


He was incredible to listen to and transcribe as fast as my pen would allow me. What a legend.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Dating site disasters - Sunday's column

When like me, you reach a certain age, which will remain unmentionable, but is somewhere between 33 and 38 - you reach a point where you’ve pretty much already met and pretty much already shagged all the eligible people in your immediate social circle, and in your social circle’s (immediate) social circle.

At that point it becomes necessary to look elsewhere. On the internet, for example. Which is how I suddenly find myself having spent a fair amount of time dating online. So it is with this depth of knowledge and hands-on experience that I can tell you about five guys I’ve come across online that I will not be dating next week.

For those of you who’ve never been lucky enough to get to hang out on a dating website, here’s the low down. Every member has a profile – which includes a relevant nickname and vital statistics (age/weight/height etc.) paired with a brief narrative. All designed to give any interested parties a basic idea of what that person is like.

So based on the kind of information one can glean from these short but useful profiles, here’s my un-selection:

Why I will not be dating a man named ‘CARVE_9’ any time soon:
How can I put this delicately, I certainly don't want to upset him. But I will not be dating him because his name is Carve! And on our first date I would much rather not have my extremities sliced off with a large carving knife and then placed in zip lock bags in his freezer. Making him Carve_10.

Why I will not be dating ‘GUY’S WHO CA’NT SPEL’:
Call me picky, but if you’ve managed to reach thirty seven and you still think that this is how you spell the words ‘horni’ and ‘frend’, and you consider the basic laws of punctuation merely a broad suggestion, then I’m not sure we’re going to be right for each other.

Why I will not be dating ‘GUYS WHO COMPARE WOMEN TO CARS’:
‘1972 model, in excellent running condition, with only one previous owner, looking to upgrade. You don’t have to be a sports model. I’m happy with a Chevy, Toyota or Ford. As long as you have a good service history and nice soft seats.’

What kind of girl does the motor head approach work for? The way I see it he’d have better luck attracting another man like this. Women, not a species world renowned for being turned on by car terminology.

Why I will not be dating ‘CAT LOVER GUY’:
Any man with more than four cats has a little explaining to do. Being an animal lover is one thing, but if women who have too many cats are considered a little psycho, then surely their male counterparts should be looked at with a wary eye too.

And finally, why I will not be dating ‘THREE-TOED-FRANK’:
Dear Frank, I’m not condoning anything other than utmost honesty from the get go. But some information may just be best revealed only after a fourth or fifth date, or potentially even only after marriage.

You know what they say, all the good ones are either already taken, or are in an insane asylum, drawing with crayons and talking to the pigeons.

Monday, October 25, 2010

blow up dolls

I understand a boy blow-up doll, like this one:



And I understand a girl blow-up doll, like this one:





I get it. It's funny, it's cute, it's ironic, it adds the perfect finishing touch to just about any fancy dress outfit.


The blow-up doll is the one on the left.
But i just don't get blow-up animal dolls.



A pig, really? Why?

Fine if they're just for jokes. Pull out a blow-up cow at a bachelor party, or get your mate a blow-up sheep if he's emigrating to Australia. Har har har, good one, Bruce.

 

But my question is this, are there people out there that use them for real? Really? What's that about?

Can't get a date?

Like the smell of plastic?

Not much of a people's person?







Dudes, dudettes, seek therapy.


Friday, October 22, 2010

Crayons, not just for colouring anymore.

Sometimes, sometimes, sometimes, you come across something wonderful and sweet and clever and smart. And you think, wow, that thing is just so wonderful and sweet and clever and smart. I think I'll blog about it.





This lady, over here, her name is Diem Chau, creates these carved crayons.

I think that set above were the first ones she did. And then at some point she was commissioned by Wieden Kennedy, a very clever international ad agency, to make all these soccer ones for the world cup:






Ooooh remember crayons? I used to love them. I'm sure I still have a box somewhere, I'm going to have to dig them out.



Impressive, hey. They remind me a little bit of these pencils that this legendary genius man makes.


Such detail. Such precision. So much outside of the lines thinking.
She also does commissions and seems to make lots of different ones, like these:









I think they're pretty special.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

The view from on holiday - part two.

So only akin to 'do you want to come up and see my stamp collection', I bring you part two of potentially the world's most boring sentence; 'Do you want to see my holiday slides?'
Only I didn't do any bird watching (not birds in the classic sense anyway, more like some night birds and a couple of cocks.) so hopefully my slides won't bore you to tears, or have you falling asleep in your coffee cup. Right let's get started. Lights please, thank you.  
One of my very favourite Dutch sights was this series of paintings in an art gallery in Amsterdam. I was there at night time so the gallery was closed and I could only take pictures through the windows, which is my excuse for why they're such terrible pictures. sorry.

They're paintings of made up fictionalised Penguin Book covers. Heart, heart, heart.



I'd really love to own a series of these and put them up in my home. Will have to get onto researching that immediately. Does anyone know anything about them?


Moving along swiftly.

This is a store in Amsterdam, called Paul Warmer.




Which is only really funny if you know this fact: I once had an Art Director (whom I loved dearly) named Paul Warner. Truth is, he could have done with being a little warmer.




Abraxas, This next one is specially for you. It's a coffee shop I frequented while in Amsterdam:


 (Sorry everyone here whose name is not Abraxas, I tried but I couldn't find coffee shops named after all of you and smoke dope in them. I did try though. I put in a valiant effort.)

Also sorry it's such a crap picture, Abraxas, but it was late and I'd just come out of a coffee shop, what do you want from me, dammit.

Now this next one is a great example of how to sell a book. Check out this shop window. An entire display dedicated to this one cook book. Love it.



And of course what day spent sight seeing would be complete without finding these in a street food market:


Chocolate tits and asses and vaginas and penises. Yum yum.


Chocolate vaginas. Hmmf, now I really have seen it all.

Do you think the mould comes from an actual vagina? They do look pretty realistic.

My Dutch isn't great, so please correct me if I'm wrong. But I think that means 'Massive Genitals'? Maybe, maybe not?

Five Euros! That's pretty cheap for a Groot Penis. I've paid way more in my time.


Look, it's a choc cock.

Bite off the tip bit first and then it's kosher.

Hey, when they say 'bite my ass' in South Park, do you think that's what they mean?

Alright, holiday over. Back to work people.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Winner of book giveaway

So after this post, over here, where i asked for book suggestions, I also promised to give away a copy of my book to one of the commenters.

And so, today, as promised, a boy who looks something like this:


Okay, okay, let's be honest here, he didn't really look like that. As one of the copywriters i work with, Mike, would say, he's wasn't a 'lantern-jawed matinee idol'. In truth the guy I used looked a little more ordinary, every day, down to earth, but anyway that's not the point. Here's the point:

We put all the names of commenters in a hat, and my friend (the ordinary, every day, down to earth one) pulled out a name. And the name he pulled out is... drum roll please... it was 'Me, Jade'.

So, good one chick. You've got a copy of A Million Miles from Normal coming your way. Jade, please email me on paige@polka.co.za with an address where i can send/deliver your book.

And thanks for the awesome book ideas you guys. They really are brilliant, there are a handful of authors there I've never heard of who I will hunt down immediately.

The view from on holiday - part one

I'm back. My holiday is over.

And so now as with all post holidays there are bills to be paid, manuscripts to be reworked, ads to be written and post holiday depression slumps to be in.

But before all that there's a little reminiscing to be done.

Never was there a more boring sentence than, do you wanna see my holiday slides? But I guess that's essentially what I'm doing.

I think there are two kinds of holidayers in this world, the photo takers and the non-photo takers. I, myself, am a non-photo taker. In fact, I don't even own a camera. What I do however own is a cell phone that has a camera in it. So whenever I see something weird or wonderful or inspiring, at least I can take a snap of it. Even if it is grainy, upside down, too dark and more often than not has my finger in front of the lens.

I'm really more of a note taker than a photo-snapper. But then I suppose notes are essentially just writer's photographs. 

So for the next two days i'll be posting some random holiday snaps of things I saw abroad. (Abroad, that should almost be a rude word, don't you think? Anyway back to holiday slides. Will someone get the lights, please? Thank you.)

First up:


People put really strange things in their windows in Amsterdam. Pee pee penis dolls of all shapes and sizes in the window of this home. Some masturbating, some pulling zap signs. Hmmmm, curiouser and curiouser.

This next one was in the window of a restaurant in Amsterdam:



I wonder what a 'Jacked' pototato is? And surely you should find it in Joburg not Amsterdam?

More strange window displays:


This one was in the window of a chemist. If my photography is so awful you can't see what that is, allow me to explain:



It's a giant toothbrush carousel.



It goes round and round and round, like a miniature dental funfair. And the toothbrushes sit two to a seat, holding hands and watching the sights.



Another Dutch favourite of mine are these junk food vending machines:





Pick what you want. Put your cash in the slot. Open the little door and grab your food. I think it's the equivalent of our dodgy boerie rolls that you buy in Long Street at 4am. It seems a good idea at the time, but really, it's never a good idea. I've never tried one, I must be honest. It's all just a little mystery meat-ish for me.



These next two shots are from a little Asian place I quite enjoyed in Amsterdam. This is their closed sign:


And their open sign:


This next shot was taken in London. It was a window display in Selfridges. Dozens of shoe box worlds, each created in a different style. Gorgeous and intricate.




Next - A most fabulous pair of shoes from Amsterdam that I would have bought myself if I was richer than God, or a Sheik. The only two kinds of people able to afford these shoes I would imagine.



Okay this next one is weird. This was a shop window for a butchers, located in The Red Light District in Amsterdam, right next door to one of the famous prostitute windows. I kind of thought it was ironic.



Sorry, once again it's a really crap picture, but it's of some cows grazing in a field. Again, it was late and rainy, and as I mentioned, I'm not much of a picture taker. Cattle call, indeed.





This was pretty cool too. This guy finds tree stumps and whittles them into statues of men's trunks. Fitting I guess. Trunks made out of trunks.



The underpants are bark. Woof.



More travels abroad tomorrow.