So… imagine my surprise this morning when I realised that I didn’t get nominated for the SA Blog Awards. Not that it’s a big deal or anything, awards mean nothing to me, it’s all about the love of the craft yada yada yada.
No, to be honest, I am feeling a little bitter about it all. I guess I just took things for granted, just assuming I’d get in there. I suppose it’s a bit like when you have a decent-looking member of the opposite sex who is completely into you, but you don’t pursue things, as you naturally assume they’re a sure thing, only to get deeply annoyed when you discover they have ended up hooking up with your friend instead.
Something like that?
Anyhoo, I am certainly a little bitter about the whole thing, but not as bitter as this guy. Apparently, I’m not the only one annoyed about not cracking the nod at the Blog Awards.
So if you are familiar with the night club scene, you will of course all realise how difficult it is to effectively communicate with someone. It’s simply impossible to have a normal conversation with your friend on the dance floor, as the music is loud enough to loosen the wax in your ears.
So what do you do?
Well usually, you would go up to someone, and scream in their ear. The correct way to do this with a female is of course to approach her from the direction she is coming from (ie: stand and face the direction that she is facing, whilst screaming in her ear). This allows you to communicate with her – by screaming in her ear – as well as giving you the opportunity to look down her blouse. I actually made up a saying for this scenario. I call it “killing two birds with one stone”. Feel free to use it whenever.
Now, with a male, you will face him front on. (don’t ever approach a guy from the rear, 85% of the time it doesn’t end well). When communicating with a male, scream in the ear that you are closest to. So if you are on his left hand side, scream in the left ear, if you are on his right hand side, scream in the right ear. Common sense would dictate that he accomodates you accordingly, by turning to his right if you are in his left ear, and visa versa.
On some occasions however, you will encounter strange males who will do the very opposite, as I did the other day.
The correct way of communicating in a night club, followed by the incorrect way.
Now what in Garth’s name are you doing there? Are you trying to kiss me?
No?
Then what the f**k are you doing, man?
Turn your head the other way when I am screaming in your ear. It’s like when you make out with somebody, you tilt right and they tilt left, you don’t BOTH tilt your heads in the same direction.
Seriously, sort your shit out, and don’t let that happen again.
It made me feel awkward, everytime it looked as if you wanted to brush your lips against mine.
Nothing to do with SEO, but Michael Cera is cool, and hasn't appeared here before.
As some of you may know, when I’m not modelling underwear, attending A-list events, or gently caressing my inner thighs (all the while thinking about you), I occasionally dabble with something called “SEO”, which means “Search Engine Optimisation”.
If it sounds confusing and technical, it shouldnt be. Basically, it’s all about giving search engines what they want, and ensuring that the right type of people find the right type of website. So as an example, a website I am currently running, offers breast enlargement surgery to aspiring glamour models. It is therefore in my best interest to ensure that as many aspiring glamour models find this particular website, and have their breast enlargment surgery carried out here.
As you can imagine, SEO can therefore be a particularly lucrative industry if you know what you’re doing, and to help you along, Quirk -- a digital agency where I occasionally hang out -- have just announced an online distance learning SEO course they have developed, which will arm you with enough knowledge to go out there and make sinful amounts of money online.
The alternative of course, is to go out there and try and talk a good game without any sound knowledge, as many people do. I remember as a young and naive 18 year old, I would often tell people I was a trained ninja, and would get to kiss loads of girls on the mouth based on this blatant lie, until one day, at the Stones in Claremont, I bumped into a real and authentic trained ninja, who then challenged me to a duel in the nearby alley outside, and promptly handed my ass to me. (If that statement doesn’t make sense, it is because he firstly took it away from me -- yes, my own ass -- and then promptly handed it back to me -- the worse thing a trained ninja can do to you)
Have a look at the little SEO video below, to give you an idea of how you could be found out, and have your ass handed to you. (Figuratively in this case, not literally as in mine)
So anyhoo, if you’re interested in making money online, click here for more info.
So this past Saturday I felt like partying in Claremont, but I was too shy and embarrassed to admit to it, as saying that you enjoy partying in Claremont is a bit like saying you enjoy watching Leon Schuster movies and WWE wrestling.
Therefore, I decided to play the “Irony Card”. You know about the Irony Card, right? It’s a gold-tinted fairly well used card you play when you want to do something that you would normally feel slightly shy about. “Hey love, you can do that thing to me tonight with the warm, over-ripe banana. You know, it will be ironic!” or “I’m going to wear sunglasses inside a shopping mall, with my collar popped, because I’m being ironic.”
Anyhoo, so that is the official stance on the night. I was being ironic, that’s why I was there. So in addition to all the tomfoolery which occurred, I had a few random thoughts during the night – seven to be exact – which I will now share with you in a bullet point fashion.
We’re WAY too old to still be drinking at Springboks – And I’m not talking about having a beer there in the afternoon whilst watching a game. That is still acceptable. No, I’m of course talking about putting on a smart shirt, or body-hugging fitted t-shirt, and going there to dance and shake your money maker whilst hitting on some young tail. The fact that I even referred to the chicks there as “young tail” should give you an idea of how old we felt and appeared to be when we got there. They have opened some sort of whiskey bar at the back, which had some older twenty somethings sipping on hard liquor, but I still felt dirty being there, like an old man watching his neighbour’s 14 year old daughter washing the family car in her Hello Kitty two piece swimsuit.
It just felt wrong.
It was also nicely summed up by the drunk student we encountered later on, who gave us the unintentional but still back-handed compliment of “When I grow up, I want to make some big bucks and be just like you guys.”
Drunk student, you were a bit of a cock, you smelled very faintly of urine, and you had your face a little too close to mine when you talked, but you hit the nail on the head.
You can only drink so much soda and limes – Soda and lime is a lovely drink to have when you are not hitting the booze. It kind of looks like a decent manly drink (unlike Cranberry juice, which looks, surprisingly enough, like Cranberry juice), and they give it to you in a manly looking tall glass (unlike Cranberry juice, which was given to me in a Cosmopolitan cocktail glass). Soda and lime can only take you so far though.
After my third drink, I was pretty sure that Soda and lime was coming out of my pores, which was confirmed when a slightly inebriated gentleman asked whether he could have some of the soda excreting from my arm, as his Bushmills whiskey was a little on the strong side. The point is, I think clubs need to cater for the non-alcohol drinking folk, and maybe stock some non-alcoholic beers? Just a thought, use it, don’t lose it.
The music at Tiger Tiger is lame – I wanted to dance my tits off. I really did. They were annoying me all week and I had strongly made up my mind that they would have to go on Saturday night, giving me the opportunity to grow some new ones. But the music was a bit on the poo side.
There was probably about 25 mins of decent sexy dance music for the entire night. Oh and then a little bit of old school stuff later on (Beegees, Michael Jackson, some Whitney etc) Otherwise it was mostly that David Gueta-style shit that you hear late at night on 5fm, the type of music you can’t really dance to, you kind of just jump around mindlessly, or alternatively, stand still and feel up the chick dancing in front of you.
I wasn’t planning on feeling up any chicks (I didn’t want to get beaten with my own arm) so I had to settle on the first option, of jumping around mindlessly.
Which made me look like a giant tit.
Which I think is irony?
I can’t seem to read a signal even if it pulls me by the scrotum – So there I was, chilling at one of the tables at Tiger Tiger, when this blonde chick walks past, armed with a pair of big blue eyes, and an ass you could quite possibly bounce a R5 coin off. (I always wondered about this line when I read it in books, or heard it in movies, but after seeing her ass, it just made sense)
As she sashayed past us, she turned and stared hard in my direction, causing me to turn around, and just check that I was in fact her target, so as to avoid another embarrassing situation. From then on, she was literally hovering around us for most of the night until, probably exasperated by my complete indifference, she motioned for me to come over to her on the dance floor. I waddled over cautiously, and stammered in her ear – “Hi, so where exactly do I know you from? Did we go to school together?”. She looked at me, the way you might look at a puppy before smacking it upside the head for peeing on your prized slippers, and said, “No… no we have never met. I just thought you were cute.”
“Oh,” I stammered, completely off-guard by this revelation. “I have a girlfriend and I am really slow so I actually had no idea that this was the case.” She then proceeded to roll her eyes at me. “You have pretty shoes,” I countered, awkwardly. “I like the way they make your toes look like little buttons”. I then slowly moonwalked away from her and started doing the Macarena, which I usually do when I feel flustered and / or disorientated.
When I finished it, she was gone. She had an exceptional ass though, maybe I should have told her about The Girlfriend after I rubbed my groin region against it, although The Girlfriend would likely have beaten me with my own arm had she found out, so I’m pretty confident that I made the right choice.
The main point though, was the fact that I had no idea she was actually hitting on me, which concerns me, as Perception is my middle name, thanks in part to the inept nature of the Home Affairs department. But we will leave that story for another day.
How many is this? Four? Okay, let’s leave it at four. I know I said seven, but truth be told, I have ended up writing far more than I expected.
Yes, I wrote this. On paper. And then I scanned it. Onto the computer. I don’t believe in typing things out. It’s not pure enough for me.
I always wanted to become a professional football player, and was convinced I had the looks, charisma and Hollywood style hair to succeed.
Unfortunately I didn’t have the skills though, having been born with two right feet. (You need a right foot AND a left foot in order to play football the way it should be played)
So, whilst the other kids played soccer and honed their skills in the street, I was sitting at home in my lounge with my imaginary friend Sven (he was a Swede) playing finger football, which involves a small table, and tiny boots which your fingers can fit into.
Steri Stumpie obviously heard about my legendary exploits, and so organised a finger football match between ShaunOakes.com and BangersandNash.com a few weeks back.
Dan Nash was a worthy adversary but with my football strategy not being dissimilar to my love making strategy -- a slow and steady buildup before unleashing an explosive finish -- I was able to win the match.
You can view it all in the video below:
You can view more pics and stuff over here if you would like.
Let’s chat again a bit later.
I have the most exciting story to tell you.
And no, I’m not just saying that to make you come back here.
So I mentioned the other day that I was giving up booze and other stuff for 100 days, and I’ve now gone about 3 weeks without eating meat.
Side effects include being less aggressive (The Girlfriend has been winning ALL our cage fights at the moment) as well as having to poo twice a day now. Losing fights I can deal with – it appeals to my slightly masochistic nature – and even having to poo more than once a day is farily tolerable, as it gives me more time to catch up on my reading.
What does get me though is the fact that I am always hungry.
Always.
Not once in these three weeks have I sat back on my couch with that satisfied grin you get when you have just had a massive helping of steak, potatoes and beer. No, instead I’m nibbling on carrot sticks, apples, spinach and feta pies (which, whilst not meat, isn’t the healthiest of meals either) and those psuedo-meat soy meals you can buy in Pick n Pay stores (“Frys” I think. Wait. Let me quickly go look in the freezer… Yeah, they are called “Frys”, they are in green boxes.)
So I guess my question to any vegetarians who are reading this is – “Is this what it’s going to be like for me?”.
Or is there a secret food you guys eat to make you feel like you are full?
This has been bothering me for a while now. Independent Online Newspapers have really been pushing the fact that KFM DJ Ryan O’Connor writes an exclusive column for their website every Friday (see here). They have banner adverts on their website, and they even have regular print adverts in the newspapers. And after reading some of his stuff, I kind of have to wonder why?
Look, I’m not really a huge fan of his, nor do I have an axe to grind with him. When I hear him on the radio he sounds decent enough, and I’ve heard from various people that he is a pretty stand up guy.
But his columns?
Weak and pointless.
It just seems to be a platform for him to talk about the free stuff he received over the previous 7 days, and name drop some more products and brands. Even worse than his columns though, is the fact that IOL first moderated, than completely disabled the comments functionality on his most recent posts, after several people began questioning why he was being so heavily advertised when his columns were so consistently poor.
Read one of his most recent columns below to see why.
Suite Times – Written By Ryan O’Connor
Last week I mentioned I was staying at the wonderful Crystal Towers Hotel and Spa at Century City, Cape Town. But I forgot to add that the general manager, Gary Koetser, had arranged something very special that was officially unveiled last weekend.
The O’Connor Suite on the 8th floor will now be one of my residences in the Mother City. It has magnificent views of the city and the Atlantic Ocean. Feel free to pop in and take a look when you’re in the area. Just tell Gary I sent you.
This week I hosted the SA Cricket Awards Gala dinner with the stunning Kass Naidoo at the Sandton Convention Centre in Johannesburg. The function was superb, if I do say so myself. The slick event was held to crown the best cricketers in the country. But it was also a chance to catch up with some the guys I hadn’t seen in a while. I’m impressed with how slim and trim our cricketers are looking. A few years ago, it looked like the guys were filling out their shirts a wee bit too much. But they look in good form at the moment. Well done to Hashim Amla who walked away with the most awards on the evening.
He’s had a great season with the bat.
A highlight of the week was managing to finally get my grubby paws on the latest iPad from my friends at Digicape.
They aren’t officially in the country as yet but a travelling staff member brought one in for me. The one I have is the 64 gig 3G version and it works perfectly with a Vodacom micro-sim. I must say that I was a little sceptical as to how this would would replace the new 15-inch Macbook Pro i7 Digicape gave me a few months back. Did I really need one to make my life easier?
The answer is a simple yes.
The iPad is the most important innovation of the past year. For one, it’s the perfect size to travel with and really easy to operate. This week I had to do my breakfast show from Joburg, with email, internet access and document viewer a necessity for the broadcast. And they were all just a touch away with the iPad’s touchscreen. I also used the device during the live broadcast of the SA Cricket Awards.
It doubled as a live tele-prompter clipboard (the machine which houses and rolls the script for presenters during tv shows) and a connection between live Tweets we received during the show.
Although it certainly won’t ever replace the Macbook Pro I have and use on a daily basis it will allow me to do some of my daily activities on the move.
In fact, I am writing this column on the iPad as my flight to Cape Town cruises above Bloemfontein.
I was supposed to watching the Tour De France with Oakley SA this week but due to prior commitments I couldn’t make it. I have however been promised a yellow jersey! I’ll post a picture when it arrives.
I’m going in search of some snow this weekend in Ceres and then heading to Franschhoek for some wine tasting with friends. Last weekend they celebrated Bastille Day at the festival so I am hoping this weekend is a tad quieter.
I’ll also be getting out onto the golf course next week with Dave Murray, director of golf at Pearl Valley and Andrew Kalis from Taylormade to sort out my swing and let off a little steam.
There is just something strangely soothing about whacking a golf ball.
Thanks. For. That.
Seriously though, am I slightly bitter that he has a paid writing gig and I don’t?
Possibly.
Am I right in saying Ryan O’Connor’s columns are more than a little weak though?
Are you looking to rent a flat in Cape Town? In the city centre? With two pretty cool chicks?
Okay, then you will want to read further. These two below have a lovely 3 bedroom flat in the city centre, and need a new flatmate(flat mate? I’m never sure of the spelling)
Friends of Shaun Oakes. Looking for a new flat mate.
Anyhoo, here with some random info about the flat:
Has 3 bedrooms
Has 2.5 bathrooms (one en-suite)
Comes with a washing machine
Has a dishwasher
Shit loads of parking space
Has a pool
Has tennis courts
Has squash courts
Sound good? I also have some random photographs in and around the apartment to help sweeten the deal.
Spacious interior.
A stylish looking Cape Town apartment.
One of the three bedrooms on offer.
The grounds around the apartment.
Well, not to sound biased, but I am certainly sold. If I wasn’t living at The HQ I would be calling these two right now. In terms of the type of flat mate they are looking for, it can be a guy or a girl, the only criteria being that you are not weird or creepy.
So if you are looking to share an affordable flat in the Cape Town city centre, and you are not weird or creepy, then I would say that this is probably ideal for you.
Interested?
Okay, just drop them a line over here with any questions, and we can all take it from there.
