The penis doll (holiday repeat)

http://amillionmilesfromnormal.blogspot.com/2009/11/penis-doll.html

Wigs for cats (holiday repeat)

http://amillionmilesfromnormal.blogspot.com/2009/11/wigs-for-cats.html

Banksy rocks (Holiday repeat)

http://amillionmilesfromnormal.blogspot.com/2009/07/banksy-rocks.html

Cooking with Semen (holiday repeat)

Hello,

this is a post about how to cook with Semen. (Recipes included!)

http://amillionmilesfromnormal.blogspot.com/2010/02/cooking-with-semen.html

enjoy.

It's not easy being a model (Holiday repeat)

http://amillionmilesfromnormal.blogspot.com/2009/09/its-not-easy-being-model.html

Awkward boners (Holiday repeat)

http://amillionmilesfromnormal.blogspot.com/2009/12/awkward-boners.html

Meet psycho Barbie (Holiday repeat)

http://amillionmilesfromnormal.blogspot.com/2010/01/meet-psycho-barbie.html

The year's most un-pc post (Holiday Repeat)

http://amillionmilesfromnormal.blogspot.com/2010/02/most-un-pc-post-ever.html

Round peg in a square hole

Here is yesterday's Sunday Times Column, just in case you didn't get to see it. Enjoy. PS: This is the last Sunday Times column of the year, we resume on 2nd Jan 2011.

Here's something you may not have known. Japanese farmers, slash scientists, slash fans of Frankenstein, slash guys who spend a little too much time in the fruit and veg aisle at their local supermarket, have created, slash invented, slash grown square watermelons.

I kid you not. This is a true story. I saw it on Wikipedia. You can even go Google it, if you don't believe me.

It all started when someone with lots of brains in their head realised the home-grown truth, that there's never enough space in the fridge for a watermelon. And also, when you buy one, it always ends up rolling around in the boot of your car when you drive home, squashing the eggs and the loaf of bread and the only ripe avo you found in the avo bin, after painstakingly squeezing the 70 other hard ones surrounding it.

While undoubtedly delicious, juicy and nutritious, watermelons in their current format are an incredibly inconvenient fruit. They don't fit in a lunch box as, say, an apple or a banana does. And if you drop one on your toe, you've got serious problems and some doctor's bills to contend with. Ever try cutting one? It's not an easy thing to do without severing one of your own fingers. Perhaps one of the reasons we were given 10? Chop off one while you're trying to cut a watermelon, and you've nine more lined up to do the work.

These new square watermelons are also more green (if pieces of fruit can possibly be more green than they already are), because they now fit exactly into the supermarket fridge without wasting space, so they take less gas or electricity to refrigerate. They also take up less room when it comes to transport, which equals fewer trips for the truck driver from the farm to the supermarket, so more saved energy. It's actually a very smart idea.

How they did it was to take watermelon seeds and grow them in square plastic boxes, so they were forced to grow into the shape of the box, instead of the melon's natural gravity-induced oval shape.




I don't want to blow our own horn or anything, but us humans are pretty amazing when we put our minds to it. Even the guy upstairs couldn't come up with this one by himself.

Impressive.

Or is it?

You see, I begin to have some concerns when it comes to organic genetic engineering and mutation. I have to question whether it's a good idea to mess too much with nature.

What if it's one of those things that seemed like a good idea at the time, but when we've messed with watermelons too much, they begin to grow minds of their own in their pips (pip is a slang word for brain after all), and they rise up against us humans, murdering us in our sleep and re-growing us in different shapes using plastic boxes, so that we can fit better in their mutated refrigerated storing devices? I'm just saying, it could happen.

I feel the same concerns about Botox and all those other crazy procedures we use to push and pull at our skin and reshape women until they're barely recognisable and supposedly younger versions of themselves.

Perhaps it's time we stopped screwing with nature. Either that, or we've just got to hope like hell that it doesn't come back to bite us on our massively liposuctioned butts.

It looks like the square tomato is next. 


Go Japan.

Holiday, celibrate. (Not celibate.)

Fuck me, this year has been quite something, hasn't it.

There have been successes and failures. There have been book launches and Loerie Awards. There have been deaths and births. There has been international travel. There has been words, hundreds of thousands of them. There has been work, there has been play, and there has been a column. There has even been charity winnings. (yay)

And through all of it there has been you.

You, visiting and reading and commenting when you feel the urge. And of course sending me all the mad crap that you do. Sheesh, i'd be lost without you.

So this is a big thank you to all of you for supporting me through this mad year and helping make this blog what it is; a big mad old place where you can hopefully come to see some crazy mad shit on a daily basis.

I'm going to be taking a break from blogging until early next year. But what i will do is post a link daily to a favourite old post that you may not have seen before, from the ancient annals (wierd word 'annal' maybe we should just stick to 'history') from the hisory of this blog, so should you not be on leave (sorry) and should you continue to visit (yay you), there will always be something for you to look at. I'd never want to leave you hanging.

Merry Xmas favourite people, and a happy happy happy new year. xxxx

Christmas jumper spirit

The idea for this post comes via wonderful Zwier, thanks dude, you rock.

Lars Holdus lives in Amsterdam. He is a very strange boy indeed.

He has this website over here, which contains his Christmas sweater collection.

Here's his blurb:
 

Thank you Lars, how very very very interesting. Or not.

One has to wonder what would make a young virile man want to have such a collection. Especially when he lives in Amsterdam, a city where marijuana is freely available. Or perhaps that's why he has such a collection. 

Here are some of his collection:

Lovely Lars, how masculine, how sexy, how utterly... um... christmassy.

I bet Lars gets shagged a. lot!

The girls must just throw themselves at him. Yeah right!

unless of course...

... he's simply being ironic.

But with that straight face, who can tell?

That's quite some collection.

So young, so trendy, so wearable.

Ah, the wreath, so festive, so pretty, so your granny circa 1982.

And at last, a variation on the theme. A Christmas waistcoat:

Wow. Nobody could ever accuse Lars of being boring. Just when you get used to what he's doing, he likes to shake things up, turn them around, and show you something different.

Merry Christmas, ho ho ho, happiness and joy to one and all.

The dick-tionary.

Dummy is a great friend of mine, he lives in Durban, where it's very very hot. Hot as a cauldron, hot as the devil's house, hot as a sauna that also contains a heater.

Some months ago he sent me this, it's a page out of a dictionary of some kind, I'm guessing it's Italian. (Feel free to correct me if you know better.)

Now these kind folks who compiled this dictionary have been clever enough to supply a whole page of translations specifically in case you find yourself going on a date with an Italian man or woman and need to be able to communicate important date-type things in Italian:





It's fantastic, they've got things like how to say 'kiss me', and 'easy tiger' and the ever popular 'Fuck me'... and then all the possible variations on that theme, like 'Fuck me harder', 'Fuck me faster', 'Fuck me softer', and 'Fuck me slower'.

Brilliant. Thank you very much. Or should i say, Grazzi!

But then this is what caught my and Dummy's eye, half way down the page of translations:

I guess it's important for the average guy, when having sex with an Italian woman to be able to communicate that he's unable to get it up. How considerate of the translators.

And what I love even more are the translations that come later:

'That was amazing.'

'Can I stay over?'

and

'When can I see you again?'

Perhaps not words you'll ever need to know, should you have to use the 'I can't get it up, sorry!' at any point.

One bad date too many

Morning all, herewith yesterday's Sunday Times column. Hope you enjoy.

There's a new magazine out on South African shelves. It’s targeted specifically at single people. It’s called ‘Date’, and their pay-off line is ‘Find true happiness through Date – the magazine for singles.’ And why not, I suppose. Although you don't see any magazines out there titled ‘Argue Magazine’, or ‘Bitter Disappointment Weekly’, or ‘Sex Quarterly’, the magazine for couples and marrieds.

It’s an interesting concept, and in this day and age magazines do seem to be going rather niche. There are magazines especially for scrap bookers, horse lovers, brides and mothers to be, and brides who are mothers to be. There are even magazines for wig wearers, so why not one for single people too? Goodness knows it’s a mad world out there for us daters; we could use all the help and advice we can get.

So far I’ve paged through two issues. First the June/July 2010 issue with Charlize on the cover, and then the August/September 2010 issue, which has Sandra Bullock on the cover. Although my sense is that Charlize and Sandra are probably having slightly different dating experiences to you and I. Keanu or Clooney, hmmm, who shall I date next?

I was particularly astonished by the article on whether you should get liposuction before a first date or not. It’s not really something I’ve ever considered before. Normally just dealing with waxing and plucking and shaving and moisturising adequately before a date is stressful enough, but now are we doing plastic surgery too? Shoo, that’s altogether a little too extreme for me.



But I guess I shouldn’t knock it till I try it. After all, if I was that good at dating I wouldn’t still be doing it, would I? I’ve been on trillions of dates, potentially even zillions, and I still don’t seem to get much better at it.



There was the one date where the guy rocked up at the fancy restaurant in grubby, holey old tracksuit bottoms, slops with socks and a vest. At first I thought maybe he’d come straight to the date from the gym, but when I asked him if that was the case he looked at me like I was mad. It turned out that’s just how he dresses. Oh joy.



On another date with a different guy, after a wonderful two course dinner and some expensive scotch that he’d recommended, he discovered he’d left his wallet at home, by mistake. When it happened again on the third date I realised the joke was on me.



Really, how many bad dates must one girl go on? I reckon when you reach a point where you think a good date is one where you don’t get chopped up into a million little pieces by an axe murderer with halitosis, then you’ve probably been on one bad date too many.

After doing a bit of research I was very relieved to discover I’m not the only person with bad dating experiences. A close friend’s mother once set her up with a guy. After dinner out they went to a party, where her date promptly found himself a comfortable corner, sat down on the floor, pulled a book out of his pocket, and started reading. What a keeper.

So the question is, do we really need a bi-monthly magazine to tell us how to behave on dates? I wouldn't have thought so. Surely it's part common sense and part common decency to brush your teeth before a date, or put on nice clothes, or remember your wallet? And none of my dates have ever gone horribly wrong because I didn't get liposuction before the big night.

One of the other articles in this strange magazine was a dating rules segment, which included this gem: 'Don't tell him you're secretly a vampire'. Aha, that might explain my abysmal dating history, that's one of my very favourite pick up lines.

We did it!

We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won, We won,
Oh and did I mention that we won?

Thanks to every single vote, made by every single one of you, we just won R20 000 for The Bookey. Which they will put to great use in stocking and creating libraries in desperately needy schools.

This is just a post to thank all of you for your support, and for voting for me and retweeting and posting and forwarding and not trying to kill me when i begged for your vote for the millionth time. It's a great initiative, and I'm so chuffed us bookies managed to pull it out.

My competitors, Lieschen and Saskia are amazing women and all the charities are incredible causes, and just getting to shine a light on each of these wonderful charities will hopefully make a difference and help each of them to raise the money they need to go into 2011 with strength.

A big thanks to Price Check for this great initiative.

Happy Friday everyone. x

A million and one thanks to all of you.

Blogathon update

Okay folks, we're in the home stretch of the charity blogathon.

From what I can gather votes close at 11am, so just 1.5 more hours to go. I'll keep you posted. But please, please, please, if you haven't voted yet, your vote could help me win R20 000 for The Bookery, a charity that creates libraries in desperately needy schools.

If you haven't voted yet please go to this url http://www.facebook.com/PriceCheckSA - all you have to do is 'like' the page, and then scroll down a bit and 'like' my entry.

It's for a great cause and i promise to give you a million rand if you vote for me. okay maybe not really a million rand, but i'll love you lots.

okay, so you'll vote? deal? deal.

Thank you.

i heart shoes

I love shoes, I've said it here before, I've often wished I had a second pair of feet, so I could wear more than one pair of shoes at a time.

Something else I also love, or rather someone else i love is Catherine McEver. I've never met her, but I just know I would like her. She has this blog over here, called Stuff you can't Have. And she makes the most wonderful things.

Like this series of art/shoes/food:

she's gone and made all these tiny little shoes out of tons of different materials.

Like copper, and cork:

And the rubber from inside tyres:

And from sponges,

And even from foodstuffs, like polony,

and bread.

I just love her attention to detail. The fact that every little shoe has a button or a catch, which means they're not only incredibly cute and interesting, but fashion forward too!

Even cheese! It's genius. I don't know whether I want to eat them or wear them.

Hey, you could do both. wear them for a bit, then hey, you're feeling a little peckish at around 11am? How about a quick nibble. And if you wear the bread shoe on one foot and the cheese shoe on the other, ta dah... sandwich! Although talking about sandwiches just now made me think of toe jam, and now i'm all grossed out.

And even more. Out of the foil from cigarette packaging, and money,

Well, i don't really need to describe them all, I'm sure you can see what they're made out of with your own two eyeballs. Sorry about that, don't know what I was thinking. I'll shut up now for a bit.

Okay, I couldn't keep my mouth shut any longer. That one's really impressive, toilet paper! That must have been really really hard to make. Catherine McEver, i would have McNever have been able to make that without tearing right through it with my fingers! It's all very impressive.

And she doesn't just make shoes, oh no, Catherine makes all sorts of amazing stuff. You should check out her blog if you get a chance, guaranteed she'll inspire you to make something. Even if it's just a mess. At least you'll be making something, and there's always wonder in that.

Thank you for inspiring me Catherine. Your work is beautiful.

The ceramic vagina.

My good friend Lisa lives with her hubby and two gorgeous kids. I found this post on her facebook page this week and i laughed so hard I cracked a rib, so I had to copy and paste it for all of you.

All her words are in pink.

What do you do when you pick your 4 yr old up from school and she proudly hands you a ceramic vagina?

 

With the straightest face possible you say:

 

'Gosh! Isn't that lovely!'

 

And then you desperately hiss to another mother 'What the hell is it?'

And she whispers back that it's supposed to be a picture frame in the shape of a leaf.

 

And then she starts giggling uncontrollably and points to the rows of ceramic vaginas made by all the sweet innocent children.

 

I told you, heeeelarious.

A friend of mine who is a mom once told me that when you become a parent, you send all your garbage off to the school with your young child, and it comes back as art.

BEFORE:

 

AFTER:

And once it's 'art' made by the sacred hands of your little one, then it can NEVER be thrown away. Eventhough it is just glorified rubbish. 

And it's not just egg boxes that get the 'recycling in the name of art' treatment.

It's also all forms of pasta and lentils:

any kind of shells:

And any old buttons: 

 

Art or junk?

It depends who put it there.