Just Run Away When You See Them.

Avoid them if you can.

For the longest time, I could never get my head around Twitter. Don’t get me wrong, I can see the value from a breaking news point of view, but I didn’t see the reason why EYE (emphasising the word “I”) should be regularly Tweeting.

Lately however, I’m slowly starting find a purpose for being on Twitter (I usually Tweet weird crumbs of thoughts that I’m too lazy to expand into actual blog posts – you should probably follow me here.)

As I’ve spent more and more time on it however, I’ve quickly come to realise that – much like the infamous rose lady who collects donations for Tygerberg Children’s Hospital – there are certain people in this space who should be avoided at all costs. Allow me to elaborate:

1. The Lurking Retweeter

   The Lurking Retweeter is someone who literally spends all day on Twitter, lurking and retweeting. (retweeting means repeating something someone else has posted) Sure, on the face of it, it might not sound that bad, but just imagine someone in the real world who never says a word except to repeat everything you ever say. Pretty annoying, right? Right. They are kind of like the dandruff of the Twitter world – harmless on the face of it, but not something you are particularly happy about. It goes without saying then, that the Lurking Retweeter is someone you wouldn’t want anywhere near you.

   Most Likely To Tweet: Rt: Everything you’ve ever tweeted.

2. The Cryptic Attention Seeker

   The Cryptic Attention Seeker is someone Facebook users should also be very well acquainted with. You all know the type. They never post anything longer than six words. In fact, the majority of their posts are a bunch of vague, depressing drivel, designed to make you want to go “Hey, what’s wrong?” or “Awww, it’s going to be alright hun. Thinking of you.” Twitter is not meant to be a therapy session though, and I never care enough to ask what’s wrong. And quite frankly, neither should you.

   Most Likely To Tweet: Sigh… So tired of it all…

3. The Senseless Noise Maker

   I remember going to watch a football match at one of those trendy sports bars in Cape Town a few years back. The match was taking place in London, 13,000 kilometres away. That didn’t stop some of the supporters at the sports bar (situated 13,000 kilometres away) to get up and give a standing ovation when the captain was running on the field. Because of course, the captain would no doubt appreciate the gesture and feel the energy, being all of 13,000 kilometres away. That pretty much sums up the Senseless Noise Maker, who will post the most inane tweets about a sporting event – not an observation, or an update on what is going on – but rather, the equivalent of a ridiculous cheer or hooray. Here’s a newsflash Mr Senseless Noise Maker – the team you are cheering on cannot hear you, they are busy playing the game, they don’t have time to check their Twitter accounts. You are not being supportive. You are being stupid. It’s kind of like the time I thought Britney Spears would reply to me after I mailed her a photo of my muscular thighs. The only difference is, I was 12 then. You guys should know better.

   Most Likely To Tweet: Go Bafana!

4. The Pretentious Quoter

   
   The Pretentious Quoter is just that. Pretentious and quotes a lot. They seldom have anything intelligent or clever to say, and thus will resort to posting random quotes from long dead philosophers or musicians who died from drug overdoses in the 70’s. Or poets. They are also fond of using quotes from dead poets. If you ever spot a Tweet that looks as if it’s been lifted from Inspirational-Quotes.com, you are advised to drop what you are doing, and back away very slowly, before clicking on the Unfollow button.

   Most Likely To Tweet: “Look beneath yourself to find yourself.” ~ Anonymous

5. The Random Requester

   The Random Requester is an annoying soul who seems to think that Twitter is their personal concierge service or human powered search engine. Either that, or they are celebrities who have been advised by their social media advisor to ask questions to “stimulate online engagement”. So that’s what they do. They ask questions. Plenty of questions. Plenty of insipid, anger inducing questions. Pretty much the most random questions you can think of. Look, asking people on Twitter for help every now and then is perfectly acceptable. When every second tweet is a question though, then your stomach is quickly set on a collision course with my knee.

   Most Likely To Tweet: Where can I find a good anal bleacher in Cape Town?

6. The Hash Man

   #Stop #Overusing #Hashtags #You #Great #Big #Fool. Seriously, cut that shit out.

   Most Likely To Tweet: So cool. #BestNight #This #App #Rocks

Am I missing any others? Of course I am, I deliberately left some other ones out so you could have a reason to drop me a line in the comments section. (if you’re reading this via email in your Inbox then you should probably go to my website, which is right here)

Oakes signing off.

It’s Gonna Be A Thing.

Use these acronyms and be as cool and trendy as a young Don Johnson from the 80s.

Last week I finally discovered what “YOLO” meant. For months, I always assumed it was some sort of typo people were making over and over again in Tweets, and obnoxious Facebook Status updates. “I think they clearly meant ‘Lol’,” I would tell myself reassuringly.

“Yes, they clearly meant ‘Lol’ but they have thick sausage fingers so they’ve typed it out as ‘Yolo’. Tut Tut,” I would reassure myself some more.

A few months earlier, I had also discovered what “FOMO” was all about. I eventually had to Google it, to prevent myself looking like a tit, as before that I was resorting to laughing nervously when someone told me they were suffering from it, before then changing the subject before it became obvious I had no idea what they were talking about.

“I know I said I wasn’t doing Rocking the Daisies this year, but I’m getting serious FOMO right now, they would say.” “Hahaha… that’s amusing… so…. I have this weird mole on my balls,” I would quickly retort with, and then we would talk about testicular cancer instead.

With all that in mind, I’ve started using my own little acronyms this year, acronyms which are amazing and clever, acronyms which will no doubt spread like wildfire over the interwebs in the next few weeks. Let’s not forget, I am very influential – I came up with the whole “wearing a slim black tie with a white shirt” vibe, and I was the first person to wear pink as a contemporary fashion colour back in ’03.

It’s thus in your best interests to use the following in conversations this week:

1. OGIN – Only Getting It Now

   When you just realised something you should have picked up earlier.

   Example – I watched Django Unchained last night and thought the movie was lame. But then this morning I was like OGIN, Jamie Foxx was DREAMING in the psychiatric institution the whole time! With that in mind, I now think it’s the greatest movie since forever.

2. FOBAD – Fear of Being A Dick

   When you stop yourself from doing something which will make you look like a dick.

   Example – So I was just about to pee on my friend’s car on Friday night because I thought it would be hilarious, but then I had a FOBAD moment so I just let the air out of his tyres instead.

3. TINAJ – This Is Not A Joke

   When you are saying something which, on the face of it, sounds ludicrous but is actually the truth.

   Example – Look, all I know is one minute I was just having a casual beer at the bar, and the next thing I know, your girlfriend’s boobs were all up in my mouth. TINAJ by the way.

4. SIWAD – Sorry I Was A Dick

   When you don’t stop yourself from being a dick, and you need to apologise.

   Example – Look, all I know is one minute I was just having a casual beer at the bar, and the next thing I know, your girlfriend’s boobs were all up in my mouth. TINAJ by the way. And um…. SIWAD.

Now go forth. And embrace FOBAD.

Oakes signing off.

[disclaimer – I do not have a weird mole in my testicular region, I do have a mole on the side of my stomach though, near my hip bone, but it’s not weird. It’s a pretty normal mole. Also, I was kidding about Django Unchained – it’s not a lame movie, i thought it was pretty good, not Tarantino’s best (I preferred Inglorious Bastards) but it’s entertaining nonetheless. Oh and Jamie Foxx did not dream up the whole thing in a psychiatric institution either. This was just a joke]

But I Was Wrong.

Cavendish, where Shaun thought he was the business.

I was at Cavendish on Saturday.

That’s not even the interesting part though.

I was at Cavendish on Saturday and everyone I walked past kept staring at me, going way beyond the acceptable 2 second eye contact rule. And I’m not even talking about my usual target market either (middle-aged women with huge perfume odours and small feet – they love staring at me for some reason).

No, this Saturday was a wide cross section of middle-aged women, young women and severely old men, who all gave me the once-over. I obviously put this down to me looking particularly exceptional (My hair was well behaved, and I had also bathed earlier that day) This realisation made me incredibly excited, which obviously meant I needed to go to the bathroom to urinate gleefully.

Whilst there, I caught a long, lingering glimpse of myself in the mirror and realised that it wasn’t my phenomenal cheek bones or exceptionally crafted eyebrows they were staring at.

Instead, it was the exotic mix of peppadew and spinach stuck in my teeth. An exotic mix from a pasta I had smashed in my face hours earlier.

And then you wonder why I don’t smile at you when I see you in public.

F**k.

Oakes signing off.

Stop Doing It

Think about this very carefully...

I hate receiving emails to my work address. Whenever I receive a work email and it begins downloading to my Inbox, I spend around 5 seconds gripped with this irrational fear that it’s either a message saying that I’ve been fired – or worse –it’s a message saying that I have work to do.

I get bitterly, bitterly angry then, when I discover that the email I’ve just painstakingly downloaded is nothing but a Useless Reply-To-All to a funny YouTube link that was sent out to the entire office minutes earlier.

Now don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against funny YouTube links. I love funny YouTube links. In fact, if funny YouTube links somehow manifested itself into a living, breathing, tangible thing – with arms, legs and a fully developed reproductive system – I would probably have its babies.

It’s the Useless Reply-To-All Email that I have the problem with. There is absolutely no value being added by replying to all with a “Hahaha” or that trusty old chestnut, the “LOL!!!”.

If the Useless Reply-To-All Email somehow manifested itself into a living, breathing, tangible thing – with arms, legs and a fully developed reproductive system – I wouldn’t have its babies.

Oh no captain, I would give it a good hiding, and not the kinky kind you give to the naughty girls who wear tiny skirts at Tiger Tiger on a Friday night either. Instead, I would give it the kind of hiding that leaves your bum tender and fragile for days after, and makes your buttocks twitch anxiously at even the THOUGHT of sending a “Bwahaha” to everyone.

So if you are going to do it, stop and think and make it witty.

Otherwise, prepare to feel the wrath of my hand.

On your bum.

Where it may even linger.

Oakes signing off.

New Year’s Resolutions 2013

So unlike many of you, I’ve been back at work since last week already. In many ways, the first day back at the office feels eerily similar to attending a Parlotones concert ie: you’d much rather be somewhere else, and you have the nagging fear that all your friends are having way more fun than you. (Other similarities include the fact that there are not too many people around and the ones who ARE there look as if they’ve just dropped their cellphones in toilet water)

The quiet start has however given me some time to reflect on life, and things I should be doing to ensure a happy and prosperous 2013. ( I believe they are called “New Year’s Resolutions”)

Seeing as how I seem to have captured your attention, I thought I would share some of these resolutions with you in bullet point fashion:

1. Stop Kneeing Middle-Aged People In The Groin



Looking happy now, but wait until he gets a knee to the groin.

You know how often you replace one addiction with another? Well, ever since I successfully weened myself off smelling my ring finger on a hot Summer’s day (this addiction having replaced my earlier vice of smoking other people’s Dunhill Lights) I’ve started kneeing people in the groin.

Not just any people though. Middle-aged people, men specifically – although there was that one woman with the facial hair at the gym… Nevertheless, I will strive to stop doing it this year, as it’s considered anti-social and a little unsettling to middle-aged people I have just met.

2. Stop Marking My Territory in Other People’s Toilets



Cute dog doing what Shaun does in other people's toilets.

Whenever I use someone’s bathroom to “powder my nose” (which is girl code for “having a solid pee”) I will make a point of sprinkling a little bit on the floor. Not a lot mind you, just a couple of droplets that you would otherwise never notice.

I look at it as marking my territory. Other people seem to look at it as highly improper and not very cool. Consider last week the last time I would have done this. (If you’re reading this and I was at your house last week, I obviously wasn’t referring to you. I did it somewhere else. Obviously)

3. Take More Photographs Of Random People’s Feet



Random feet of someone who was sleeping.

Everyone should have a hobby, be it salsa, gymming or secretly cutting out magazine clippings of local celebrities and pasting it on the wall of a secret room situated behind a dry wall in your modest yet trendy apartment. I’ve tried salsa, I gym whenever someone puts a gun to my head, and I can’t partake in the third hobby since I don’t have a dry wall. (not anymore…)

What I do have however, is a stirring passion for taking photographs of random people’s feet. Sadly, I don’t get to do enough of this though, due to various legal issues and people complaining to security and policing authorities. Nevertheless, it’s clearly a talent I have and something I will look to further develop this year.

4. Stop Looking Creepy In Photographs



Shaun looking creepy.

This is probably one of the most important resolutions this year. Take a look at the photo above. It’s not even me trying to photobomb. It’s just me looking like a creepy old man with long, greasy hair.

Thankfully, I’m working toward not doing this anymore. (I’ve cut my long, greasy hair – but looking creepy is still a work in progress)

---

You will probably hear from me again tomorrow, but in the meantime, say something nice in the comments section below.

Oakes signing off.

People who are friends with you on Facebook, but get all shy around you in the real world.

Loud and opinionated online. Shy and socially awkward offline.

Just a quick one, this has been bothering me for a while, and it’s happened on more than one occasion now.

So I’m friends with quite a few randoms on Facebook. Besides you of course. You are the exception, I’m really fond of you.

Everyone else is a bit random though.

Now look, I’m pretty shit at remembering names and faces. When you add in the fact that I also never greet someone first, I’m happy to put my hand up and concede that I am socially inept.

However, if I DO happen to recognise someone’s face, I know their name, and I’m even willing to greet first (Not a massive greeting, but a gentle nod of the head – that’s pretty huge, coming from someone like me) I would of course expect that they would reciprocate my greeting and bask in the knowledge that I have acknowledged their presence.

But no, instead she quickly dropped her gaze to the floor, and then as she approached me turned her head 180 degrees to look at something which had apparently caught her interest.

180 degrees.

Like a f**king owl.

I’m sorry owl lady, but as I recall, YOU were the one who sent me the Facebook request in the first place. So it’s not like you don’t know who I am.

We were at Woolies, what could have possibly been so interesting that you risked snapping your neck to avoid looking at me?

The potatoes?

The green peppers?

Granted, they were on special, but come on.

Just… weird.

Anyone else ever experience that?

Oakes signing off.

After you have spoken to them for ten minutes and you now need to introduce them to someone else who has just arrived.

Although she is smiling, the lady in the middle has NO clue who the other two are.

Shaun: So yeah, that’s pretty much what I’ve been up to these last couple of years.

Person Whose Name Shaun Can’t Remember: Wow, your life sounds way more interesting than mine.

Shaun: No… no your life seemed okay. It didn’t sound all that bad.

Person Whose Name Shaun Can’t Remember: No, I’ve been procrastinating for years, I need to get a move on with things now.

Shaun: Look, there were definitely some good parts toward the end there. So don’t beat yourself up about it.

[Random Person (name withheld) approaches and joins Shaun and Person Whose Name Shaun Can't Remember, standing in their line of sight, waiting for an introduction. Shaun panics as he realises he doesn't know the name of the person he has been chatting to for the last ten minutes. The two both end up looking at Shaun, waiting for an introduction]

Shaun: Sorry guys, this is… [motions to both of them, indicating that they should introduce themselves.]

Random Person: …

Person Whose Name Shaun Can’t Remember: …

Shaun: This is [mumble]

Random Person: Come again?

Shaun: This is [mumble]

Person Whose Name Shaun Can’t Remember: That’s… that’s not my name.

Shaun: What?

Person Whose Name Shaun Can’t Remember: That’s not my name.

Shaun: What?

Person Whose Name Shaun Can’t Remember: Wow.

Shaun: Of course I know your name.

Random Person: Awkward…

Person Whose Name Shaun Can’t Remember: So what is it then?

Shaun: What?

Person Whose Name Shaun Can’t Remember: What’s my name then?

Shaun: Your name?

Person Whose Name Shaun Can’t Remember: Yes, my name.

[Shaun collapses on floor, pretending to have fainted. The other two walk away to get a beer and end up introducing themselves. Person Whose Name Shaun Can't Remember goes by the name of Chris, who hits it off with Random Person. (they later end up making out outside in the parking lot) Shaun slowly gets up and starts chatting to someone else whose name he does remember. Everybody wins. ]

Oakes signing off.

Decides To Get Leopard Spots On His Back.

Shaun with weird shit all over his back.

So last week Thursday I had some time to kill, and decided to draw up a bucket list of things I wanted to do before I die. This included various wishes, which included skydiving, climbing Mount Kilimanjaro, and developing the ability to levitate things with my mind. I also had some other more outlandish ones, such as going to the Moon, and having consensual but rigorous sexual relations with the reality star Kim Kardashian – which The Girlfriend is completely fine with, as I have given her permission to have consensual but rigorous sexual relations with the American actor Mark Ruffalo should the opportunity present itself.

One of the more random items on my list involved going for a cupping massage, which I’ve always been curious about.

Now, I’ve always thought of “cupping” as the act of “catching” your fart in your hand and “throwing” it in the direction of an enemy or loved one, but cupping also refers to an ancient Chinese technique that involves taking hot cups containing a flammable fluid which you then light up, and then have it attached to your back by a grim-looking Chinese woman, with the heat causing a vacuum effect, turning them into little suction cups on your back.

They are meant to suck out all the toxins in your body through your back, and seeing as how I’ve been frequently told what a toxic person I am, I thought this would be great.

I had imagined that this would feel like little love bites on my back, and would be quite pleasurable, but it didn’t really pan out that way. It feels warm obviously, not pleasurable, but not unpleasant either. It just felt a bit tight and constricted, like I had 20 tiny dwarf hands gently pinching my back.

The grim-looking Chinese woman kept all the cups on for about 20-25 minutes, and the most pleasurable or satisfying thing about it is at the end when she pulled off the cups and it made this weird popping sound, like a champagne cork that has just been popped.

I clearly had lots of toxins that needed to be removed though, as my back is now full of these weird marks you can see in the photograph above. On that note, I’ve actually Photoshopped the picture to make myself seem more “normal” as if you really saw what I looked like without a shirt on you would all get resentful and deflated at the sight of my magnificent physique.

Magnificent physique or not, my back does look pretty angry right now, and made me want to throw up in my mouth a little bit when I first saw it, but it isn’t painful at all. I think it will start fading away soon (I hope) as I am fond of just ripping off my shirt at various public places and this is obviously not an option for me right now.

So yeah, that was cupping in a nutshell, I don’t feel any different now that I’ve done it, but I’m glad I did, as I would have otherwise begun obsessing about it, which is what I’ve now started to do with Kim Kardashian. I’ll let you know how that particular bucket list item goes.

Oakes signing off.