Friday, August 6, 2010
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Jackie Selebi & The Mafia Link
I just wanted a really important title to this post.
I actually don't have anything to say about Jackie or any Mafia links.
What I do want to know is why we don't have any cool South African/ local Mafia names?
Names like Jimmy Two-Toes; or Tommy The Shooter; or Vinny The Kid.
Instead we're stuck with characters like Glen Agliotti, Clinton Nassif, Schabir Shaik and Jackie Selebi.
So uncool.
Makes me want to start my own Mafia with some of my homeboys from back in the day.
Guys like Two-Tone Moodley, who was more purple than he was dark-skinned.
Or Sugarcane-Bobby. I thought they called him that because his folks worked the sugarcane fields in Tongaat Turns out they called him Sugarcane because he liked his cane with 2 blocks of ice in a tumbler every Friday night.
Then there was Moeghamat "Dash" Abrahams. He could smell a cop 2 blocks away with a downwind and a stuffy nose. Of course once he got a whiff, he ran like the devil. Hence, Dash. Most times he ran without having done anything wrong. He just ran. Smell a cop, and run. Growing up, I remember hanging out with these characters because it was like a free circus, and we ended up running a lot. If Dash ran, we all ran. Four blocks later when Fat Faizel was having his weekly heart-attack and couldn't keep up anymore, we'd stop and ask Dash why we were running. Of course he never knew.
I grew up with my gran and she frowned on nicknames. She said they had a way of sticking to you long after you outgrew them.
I never really knew what she meant until I got on a bus one day in my 2nd year of college, and found myself face-to-face with Vishnu "Tubby" Patel. Of course the first thing out of my mouth was "Heeeey Tubby, long time no see."
My mouth was evidently on the fast lane of a four-lane highway.
My brain however, was still parked in my garage.
"Tubby" was about 6ft2, with more muscle and neck than a bull in heat.
Obviously he'd lost all that puppy fat, and then some.
He towered over me, and I got a distinct whiff of vanilla power-smoothie and maybe some fish curry.
Needless to say, the name "Tubby" was no longer appropriate.
His girlfriend however, looked like she could squeeze right into the name perfectly.
All this writing about nicknames brings me to a few that I've been called growing up.
The most memorable being Lewis.
I used to be able to run like the devil back in school.
Remember the episodes with Dash? That may have had something to do with it.
Anyways, they called me Lewis because of the famous sprinter Carl Lewis.
Fareed Kaloo. Kaloo. Kaloowis. Carl Lewis. Lewis.
And thats how you get a nickname.
Funny thing is, anybody from back in the day who see's me now and calls me Lewis must either be high on crack or blind.
I'm more closely related to Fat Albert. Not that i'm fat. I'm just more meaty than your average long-distance runner; and by average i'm referring to guys like Barry Ronge and Luciano Pavarotti.
Ok so maybe i'm exaggerating, but I like the body I have :)
Some day i'll write more about it.
I actually don't have anything to say about Jackie or any Mafia links.
What I do want to know is why we don't have any cool South African/ local Mafia names?
Names like Jimmy Two-Toes; or Tommy The Shooter; or Vinny The Kid.
Instead we're stuck with characters like Glen Agliotti, Clinton Nassif, Schabir Shaik and Jackie Selebi.
So uncool.
Makes me want to start my own Mafia with some of my homeboys from back in the day.
Guys like Two-Tone Moodley, who was more purple than he was dark-skinned.
Or Sugarcane-Bobby. I thought they called him that because his folks worked the sugarcane fields in Tongaat Turns out they called him Sugarcane because he liked his cane with 2 blocks of ice in a tumbler every Friday night.
Then there was Moeghamat "Dash" Abrahams. He could smell a cop 2 blocks away with a downwind and a stuffy nose. Of course once he got a whiff, he ran like the devil. Hence, Dash. Most times he ran without having done anything wrong. He just ran. Smell a cop, and run. Growing up, I remember hanging out with these characters because it was like a free circus, and we ended up running a lot. If Dash ran, we all ran. Four blocks later when Fat Faizel was having his weekly heart-attack and couldn't keep up anymore, we'd stop and ask Dash why we were running. Of course he never knew.
I grew up with my gran and she frowned on nicknames. She said they had a way of sticking to you long after you outgrew them.
I never really knew what she meant until I got on a bus one day in my 2nd year of college, and found myself face-to-face with Vishnu "Tubby" Patel. Of course the first thing out of my mouth was "Heeeey Tubby, long time no see."
My mouth was evidently on the fast lane of a four-lane highway.
My brain however, was still parked in my garage.
"Tubby" was about 6ft2, with more muscle and neck than a bull in heat.
Obviously he'd lost all that puppy fat, and then some.
He towered over me, and I got a distinct whiff of vanilla power-smoothie and maybe some fish curry.
Needless to say, the name "Tubby" was no longer appropriate.
His girlfriend however, looked like she could squeeze right into the name perfectly.
All this writing about nicknames brings me to a few that I've been called growing up.
The most memorable being Lewis.
I used to be able to run like the devil back in school.
Remember the episodes with Dash? That may have had something to do with it.
Anyways, they called me Lewis because of the famous sprinter Carl Lewis.
Fareed Kaloo. Kaloo. Kaloowis. Carl Lewis. Lewis.
And thats how you get a nickname.
Funny thing is, anybody from back in the day who see's me now and calls me Lewis must either be high on crack or blind.
I'm more closely related to Fat Albert. Not that i'm fat. I'm just more meaty than your average long-distance runner; and by average i'm referring to guys like Barry Ronge and Luciano Pavarotti.
Ok so maybe i'm exaggerating, but I like the body I have :)
Some day i'll write more about it.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Dear Blogger
Jou moer.
Thanks for messing with my text size in my previous post.
Thanks for not letting me edit it.
Thanks for annoying me on a rather serene and peaceful Sunday.
I hope you and your team get genital herpes and die the death of a Baghdad crack whore.
Did I mention Jou Moer?
Here endeth the rant.
Thanks for messing with my text size in my previous post.
Thanks for not letting me edit it.
Thanks for annoying me on a rather serene and peaceful Sunday.
I hope you and your team get genital herpes and die the death of a Baghdad crack whore.
Did I mention Jou Moer?
Here endeth the rant.
Revolutionary Road
Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio.
July 24, 2010
Scene : Watching the golf on TV while dozing in and out of consciousness
Missus : What are you thinking?
Me : *now fully conscious, with my senses at high-alert. Answer her dammit, answer her!!*
Oh. Uhm. I was thinking maybe it's time we bought Sabreen an elephant, now that she's old enough to have a pet.Missus : What? That's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard. Me : Really?
Missus : Honestly Fareed, sometimes I wonder about that circus going on in your head.
*storms off, muttering to herself... something about my daftness*
Someday, someday before I reach 90 i'd like to know what the correct answer to that question is.
Until then, I swear if I get asked that question again i'll just start running.
Just run and only return when the question changes.
Run until I get asked "Does this dress make me look fat?"
I loved them in Titanic.
Who didn't?
It was the first movie that got grown men crying.
Ok I didn't exactly cry, but the guy next to me did, and the guy two rows behind me did. I know because I had to hand them some of my tissues!
Ok I didn't exactly cry, but the guy next to me did, and the guy two rows behind me did. I know because I had to hand them some of my tissues!
So i'm spending my Sunday afternoon watching Revolutionary Road
What a roller-coaster of emotions!
What a roller-coaster of emotions!
I'm actually not sure how I should handle the transition from Uber-macho sport to what's turning out to be a poofy movie. I'm not sure what poofy means, but it sounds right, given the context.
The information on the movie say's it's about a young couple trying to overcome struggles within their marriage.
Really?
Has Hollywood
There's this scene where Kate Winslet looks at Leo and asks him, as only a woman can, "What are you thinking?"
I cringed so badly I thought I had shingles and chicken-pox all at the same time.
"What are you thinking?"
That single question strikes fear into even the most testosterone-fuelled man on the planet.
Here's the thing.
When I get asked that question by the missus, it somehow wipes out my hard-drive and shuts down my operating system.
It's the only time when a married man can answer a question honestly and still get accused of lying.
It's the only time when a guy seriously contemplates coming up with a ridiculous lie because the truth, as simple as it will sound, will not be believed.
It's the only time when the word "Nothing" can lead to a guy spending the rest of the day contemplating what he did wrong.
If you think i'm kidding, consider this series of recent transcripts.
March 17, 2010
Scene : Afternoon drive back from a family lunch
Missus : What are you thinking?
Scene : Afternoon drive back from a family lunch
Missus : What are you thinking?
Me : Nothing.
Missus: How can you be thinking nothing? Why don't you want to tell me?
Me : Lol, seriously. I wasn't thinking anything.
Missus : *pouts* Fine. I don't want to know anymore.
Me : *spends the rest of the drive wondering how I could be so insensitive. Still not sure what i said wrong. (Note to self: Work on your social etiquette, dammit man!)
Okay, so it took about 3 hours before the mood and temperature were conducive to me making polite chit-chat again, but the lesson had been learnt even if I didn't have a cooking clue what the lesson was, let alone what the initial transgression was.
July 24, 2010
Scene : Watching the golf on TV while dozing in and out of consciousness
Missus : What are you thinking?
Me : *now fully conscious, with my senses at high-alert. Answer her dammit, answer her!!*
Oh. Uhm. I was thinking maybe it's time we bought Sabreen an elephant, now that she's old enough to have a pet.Missus : What? That's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard.
Missus : Honestly Fareed, sometimes I wonder about that circus going on in your head.
*storms off, muttering to herself... something about my daftness*
Someday, someday before I reach 90 i'd like to know what the correct answer to that question is.
Until then, I swear if I get asked that question again i'll just start running.
Just run and only return when the question changes.
Run until I get asked "Does this dress make me look fat?"
Hang on, my love, and grow big and strong
A really good read.
It won't take too long, so take a few minutes and be inspired again.
Hang on, my love, and grow big and strong
Thanks Ema :)
It won't take too long, so take a few minutes and be inspired again.
Hang on, my love, and grow big and strong
Thanks Ema :)
Saturday, July 31, 2010
The Vodacom Durban July
I'm no gambler, but i've always been fascinated by the Durban July horse race.
This year I decided to be a part of the occasion and placed a small bet on an unknown horse called Daisy Picker.
I called my bookie earlier to find out how my horse had done and he said they couldn't find her.
That's never a good sign.
It turns out when the gate's opened and all the horse's took off, she got a fright.
Again, not a good sign.
Something about the noise and clatter and hoofs scared her.
I'm not horse expert, but if a horse has noise and crowd issues, and demands personal space, should it really be running in the Durban July?
Anyways, it turns out that the only thing that calms her down after such an eventful day (or non-eventful, depending on your bet) is to send her to the paddocks where she quietly munches on Daisy's.
If I knew how she got her name before today, I doubt I would have put any money on her!
I would probably have gone for Speed Demon or Toyota.
Apparently Toyota is so fast, she's still running! The trainer says they haven't yet figured out how to get her to stop. I asked if they tried recalling her. He just looked at me quizically.
Toyota's sister was also running in the same race.
Her names Everything.
Everything keeps going, right?
My good friend Desai bet on a horse called Indian Lady.
He called his bookie and asked how she did.
The bookie said she performed just like an Indian Lady... she refused to take off or show any leg!
This year I decided to be a part of the occasion and placed a small bet on an unknown horse called Daisy Picker.
I called my bookie earlier to find out how my horse had done and he said they couldn't find her.
That's never a good sign.
It turns out when the gate's opened and all the horse's took off, she got a fright.
Again, not a good sign.
Something about the noise and clatter and hoofs scared her.
I'm not horse expert, but if a horse has noise and crowd issues, and demands personal space, should it really be running in the Durban July?
Anyways, it turns out that the only thing that calms her down after such an eventful day (or non-eventful, depending on your bet) is to send her to the paddocks where she quietly munches on Daisy's.
If I knew how she got her name before today, I doubt I would have put any money on her!
I would probably have gone for Speed Demon or Toyota.
Apparently Toyota is so fast, she's still running! The trainer says they haven't yet figured out how to get her to stop. I asked if they tried recalling her. He just looked at me quizically.
Toyota's sister was also running in the same race.
Her names Everything.
Everything keeps going, right?
My good friend Desai bet on a horse called Indian Lady.
He called his bookie and asked how she did.
The bookie said she performed just like an Indian Lady... she refused to take off or show any leg!
Welcome to the Vodacom Durban July. Before the race begins, lets have a look at the line-up. Lineup: In lane 1. Passionate Lady In lane 2. Bare Belly In lane 3. Silk Panties In lane 4. Conscience In lane 5. Jockey Shorts In lane 6. Clean Sheets In lane 7. Thighs In lane 8. Big Dick In lane 9. Heavy Bosom In lane 10. Merry Cherry THEY'RE OFF!!! Conscience is left behind at the gate. Jockey Shorts and Silk Panties are off in a hurry. Heavy Bosom is being pressured. Passionate Lady is caught between Thighs and Big Dick is in a dangerous spot. AT THE HALFWAY MARK: It's Bare Belly on top, Thighs open and Big Dick is pressed in. Heavy Bosom is being pushed hard against Clean Sheets. Passionate Lady and Thighs are working hard on Bare Belly. Bare Belly is under terrific pressure from Big Dick. AT THE STRETCH: Merry Cherry cracks under the strain. Big Dick is making a final drive. Bare Belly is in and Passionate Lady is coming. AT THE FINISH: It's Big Dick giving everything he's got and Passionate Lady takes everything Big Dick has to offer. It looks like a dead heat but Big Dick comes through with one final thrust and wins by a head... Bare Belly shows... Thighs weakens... Heavy Bosom pulls up and Clean Sheets never had a chance." |
Thursday, July 29, 2010
The Week That Was - July 29
I have this client who insists on calling me Caarrrloo.
I've corrected him so many times but to no avail; i'm starting to think he's retarded.
Today I told him the 'R' was silent.
He has this annoying way of leaning really heavy on the 'R' when he says my name.
In the grand scheme of things, I guess it's better than being called Peepee. I may be spelling it wrong, but that's the name of a guy I met today who told me four times in two sentences that he was from Nigeria. Peepee from Nigeria. He runs a teaching academy. I think he tutors in repettitiveness. (There's a good chance I spelt that wrong, but i'm too lazy to spell-check right now).
So Peepee (it could very well be PP, but where's the fun in that?) tell's me today that in Nigeria, where he's from as he mentioned repeatedly, he was the principal of the local school. I love listening to and conversing with people, partly because i'm fascinated by peoples story's, but mostly because i'm always looking out for material for my blog :)
I asked him why he would leave Nigeria as a school principal to open shop in the concrete jungle of Johannesburg. Turns out Peepee had lived up to his name and got one of his students pregnant.
Okay he didn't exactly confess right off the bat.
He said he fell in love with a student, and was forced to make a tough decision.
Speaking of making tough decisions. I was at my friend George's place tonight, and they have this really cool wall with notches marked on it, and every family member has his name written on the wall at his respective height. I think there were dates too, I cant remember.
Anyways, George tell's the story of a family friend who was a choirmaster, and had an entire wall with every students height and name marked on it.
At some point he decided to do some renovations to the building, but was intent on keeping the wall intact with all the kids names and notches marked on it.
Except this message wasn't relayed to the painter, who proceeded to paint the wall completely.
Did I mention the notches and dates went as far back as 1969?!
We haven't decided on whether we're having a party for Princess Sabreen this weekend.
My "friends" are still trying to convince me to wear the Barney suit on the day. I'm suspicious of their loyalty and dubious advice. Besides, i've been to see the costume hire people and quite frankly the suit stinks inside!
I think a few Barney dad's before me may have had Mexican food before donning the costume. I'm sure I could still feel some mouldy nacho's in the suit.
That's it for tonight.
It's been an extremely long day and as much as I still have tons to write about, I suspect the opportunity will present itself again over the weekend.
I've corrected him so many times but to no avail; i'm starting to think he's retarded.
Today I told him the 'R' was silent.
He has this annoying way of leaning really heavy on the 'R' when he says my name.
In the grand scheme of things, I guess it's better than being called Peepee. I may be spelling it wrong, but that's the name of a guy I met today who told me four times in two sentences that he was from Nigeria. Peepee from Nigeria. He runs a teaching academy. I think he tutors in repettitiveness. (There's a good chance I spelt that wrong, but i'm too lazy to spell-check right now).
So Peepee (it could very well be PP, but where's the fun in that?) tell's me today that in Nigeria, where he's from as he mentioned repeatedly, he was the principal of the local school. I love listening to and conversing with people, partly because i'm fascinated by peoples story's, but mostly because i'm always looking out for material for my blog :)
I asked him why he would leave Nigeria as a school principal to open shop in the concrete jungle of Johannesburg. Turns out Peepee had lived up to his name and got one of his students pregnant.
Okay he didn't exactly confess right off the bat.
He said he fell in love with a student, and was forced to make a tough decision.
Speaking of making tough decisions. I was at my friend George's place tonight, and they have this really cool wall with notches marked on it, and every family member has his name written on the wall at his respective height. I think there were dates too, I cant remember.
Anyways, George tell's the story of a family friend who was a choirmaster, and had an entire wall with every students height and name marked on it.
At some point he decided to do some renovations to the building, but was intent on keeping the wall intact with all the kids names and notches marked on it.
Except this message wasn't relayed to the painter, who proceeded to paint the wall completely.
Did I mention the notches and dates went as far back as 1969?!
We haven't decided on whether we're having a party for Princess Sabreen this weekend.
My "friends" are still trying to convince me to wear the Barney suit on the day. I'm suspicious of their loyalty and dubious advice. Besides, i've been to see the costume hire people and quite frankly the suit stinks inside!
I think a few Barney dad's before me may have had Mexican food before donning the costume. I'm sure I could still feel some mouldy nacho's in the suit.
That's it for tonight.
It's been an extremely long day and as much as I still have tons to write about, I suspect the opportunity will present itself again over the weekend.
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