Does It?

I look forward to shaving, in much the same way that I look forward to having my fingers broken, or getting stabbed in the leg by a gangster in Adderley Street.

Ever so often then, I enjoy sending the razor off on vacation, usually at the very back of the bathroom cabinet, and will instead spend a couple of days cultivating some manly face fur. I like to think it makes me look ruggedly handsome, like a young Benicio Del Toro, or perhaps a slightly prettier version of Russel Crowe. The Girlfriend on the other hand, likes to think it makes look like a giant wally with pubic hairs growing off my face.

Because of this, growing a beard has developed into a bi-monthly battle of wills – I will steadfastly refuse to shave, she will steadfastly refuse to sleep with me. Eventually, I am almost always the one to blink first, leading to my welcome re-admittance to the communal bed, but it does lead me to wonder just how popular beards and moustaches still are today.

Since the days of Magnum PI, starring Tom Selleck and that magnificent moustache, there haven’t been too many hairy sex symbols for women to swoon over. This is either because men find facial hair difficult to grow, or because women have developed a disliking for rough bristles rubbing against their inner thighs. Either way, it appears that men with moustaches and beards are now in the minority.

A recent study at a local medical institute found that 87% of women preferred clean shaven men to the hairier variety. This resonates with me as, out of the approximately 20 women who I interact with on a regular basis, three of them enjoy the company of hairy men.

So what do the rest of the women think?

Hair or no hair? Let’s hear your thoughts.

Oakes signing off.

Something To Liven Up Your Wednesday

It’s Wednesday and, rather than writing anything subtantial, I thought I would instead post a YouTube video, as firstly it’s pure quality, and secondly I am lazy.

Check out Andy Samberg’s awesome new music video called “Threw it on the ground.” It will put a smile on your face.

Click here if it does not load.

That is all.

Oakes signing off.

Oakes Earns His Spurs

Tools: Manliness

After years of sterling service, our beloved toilet seat passed away peacefully in her sleep this week, having developed a terminal crack in her left side after feeling the full force of a particularly heavy dinner guest.

On most occasions, any sort of house related maintenance job would see us calling a variety of tradesmen and professionals, be it plumbers, painters, or even someone to change a car tyre. Although I strike an intimidating pose, I am surprisingly useless when it comes to any sort of DIY job around the home, and it is usually The Girlfriend who will change the light bulbs, whilst I stand behind her, watching and nodding approvingly.

2010 is a year of action however, and so Saturday morning – rather than sleeping off the whiskey of the previous night – saw me lying on my back in the bathroom instead, with an assortment of impressive looking tools at my side. There I lay for a good half hour or so, staring intently at the nether regions of our toilet, as an impending feeling of desperation slowly engulfed me.

Contrary to popular belief, changing a toilet seat is a mammoth and intricate task, eclipsed only perhaps by performing brain surgery, or designing an interplanetary space shuttle. Created in the early 19th century by engineers who had grown weary of urinating in the streets, they built a contraption that is pretty much indestructible – save for the seat itself – which is like the Achilles Heel of the traditional bathroom loo. Displaying a wicked sense of humour however, they went and decided to make the process of removing the seat an almost impossible task, a task attempted by many but achieved by few.

You see, the seat is attached to the porcelain base through a complicated set of long screw-like nails carefully mounted on each side of the bowl. These are fastened from both the top and the bottom of the bowl, through carefully hidden screws unseen by the naked eye.

Unfastening these with a traditional screw driver is an exercise in futility – there is simply no space to leverage yourself and turn the screw driver appropriately. It took me about two hours of sweating, swearing and just a little bit of sobbing before I came to this realisation, eventually resorted to contorting my body into a human pretzel, basically having to tuck both my left leg and right arm behind my head in order to successfully unfasten the first bastard of a screw.

Ecstatic at this moral victory, I immediately broke into a celebratory Macarena, until The Girlfriend appeared and sagely pointed out that there were still three sections to complete, I was a mediocre Macarena dancer, and she needed to use the toilet facilities shortly.

Using her threat to turn my car into a porta-loo as a motivating factor, I was able to power through and remove the old seat, and install the new one in a relatively quick turn-around time of three hours 45 minutes, or roughly the time it takes to learn the Macarena.

All in all it was a good day then; we have a new toilet seat in the family, I saved my car from a terrible fate, and I discovered that I am able to to tuck my leg behind my head.

I’d say that’s a win in any man’s book.

Oakes signing off.

Shaun Oakes

Procrastination - Hard work often pays off after time, but laziness always pays off now.

This may surprise some of you, but it usually takes me about 5 hours to write one of these columns every day. Now, this is not due to me carrying out extensive research, spending time verifying facts, or methodically going over my grammar. The simple fact of the matter is that I am a procrastinator. A fearsome one at that.

I think writing was substantially easier twenty years ago, back when chain smoking eccentrics with oily hair and dirty cardigans would sit in their cluttered studies, battering away at their typewriters whilst making a serious dent on their latest bottle of Scotch. No distractions, just you, a plastic tumbler of whiskey, and some A4 printing paper.

These days however, working on a computer with always on internet is a bit like trying to read an intellectually heavy book, whilst a beautiful woman gives you a lap dance.

As an example, I was seated at my desk yesterday evening at around 6pm, ready to whip out 1000 words on the recent adventures I had in the city centre, involving a parking space, a Peugeot 206, and an angry middle aged Muslim woman. At around 10:15pm, I remained rooted at my desk, with 25 words typed and having instead read up on the dark sequel to the Wizard of Oz (incidentally called “Dark Oz”) and having watched a dozen or so amusing interviews on YouTube by the professional wrestler turned Hollywood actor, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson.

Time well spent? Possibly, it’s always entertaining watching old clips of The Rock.

Procrastination? Oh, almost certainly.

It’s this level of procrastination which can sometimes get me into trouble, or at the very least seriously inconvenience me. At the current time of writing, I still have some unpaid speeding fines weighing on my conscience, together with a couple of court dates I seem to have subsequently missed. Even more disturbingly, I recently worked out that there are several thousands of rands owed to me for various freelance work carried out over the past year, amounts that I have yet to invoice for.

I know it needs to be done, I make plans to do it, but then… and then… and then…

To rub further salt in the wounds, it seems as if my procrastination has now also lead to my missing out on the 2010 World Cup experience. Having registered on Fifa.com way back in 2008 already, I have then proceeded to dilly and of course dally during the following two years, to the point where I have now missed the three random draws for World Cup tickets held during this year.

I just logged on again today to get tickets during the fourth and penultimate draw being held, only to discover that there are no more available tickets for Cape Town matches, with every match at the Cape Town stadium in Greenpoint seemingly sold out.

So now, not only am I facing some hefty traffic fines, and missing out on a huge chunk of income, but I also face the ghastly prospect of having to trek all the way to the Mbombela Stadium in the grey wasteland of Nelspruit, in order to catch a World Cup game.

Quite frankly, if that isn’t enough to shake me out of this procrastinating habit, I don’t know what will.

Oakes signing off.

Nice? Or Naff?

Valentines Day

It’s evening time on Valentine’s Day, so let’s hear how yours was spent. Me? I tend to be a raging romantic throughout the year, I don’t really need a special day to show my soft side, so this is just another day for me. How did everyone else’s day pan out though?

Click here if you cannot see the poll.

Chat tomorrow then. We have quite a few things to talk about.

Oakes signing off.

Not Too Shabby

Sherlock Holmes: Reviewed by Shaun.

I have already mentioned my long running battle to see Avatar, including many near misses before actually getting to see it, which we will discuss soon. It was during one of these near misses however, that we decided to watch Sherlock Holmes, the modern remake starring Robert Downey Jnr and Jude Law, and directed by Guy Ritchie, the director famous for making British gangster films, and for having had sex with Madonna on a regular basis.

Warner Brothers are keen to turn this into a highly profitable franchise, and have clearly spent a considerable sum of money marketing this movie, even going so far as to create a Sherlock Holmes online game.

So did the movie live up to the hype?

The simple answer is yes. And no.

Yes from a purely cinematic entertainment point of view. If you are looking to spend two hours chilling in the cinema, munching on some popcorn and just having some fun, then this is a movie to see. It’s not too taxing on the brain, will keep you entertained and interested with a fast moving plot, and has the right amount of humour, action and special effects to keep the baying masses happy.

Robert Downey Jnr’s Sherlock has a great rapport with Jude Law’s Watson, and there is certainly some chemistry there, almost to the point of a homosexual attraction. I haven’t seen that much blatant male on male sexual flirtation since Frodo Baggins and Samwise in the Lord of the Rings.

It works though, and you are quickly drawn in by the rogueish charm of Sherlock, perfectly complimented by the rugged, strong character of Watson.

There are times when Robert Downey Jnr’s British accent can be difficult to understand, but other than that the performances are pretty well polished throughout the cast, from Mark Strong’s dark characterisation of Lord Blackwood, to Rachel McAdams American heroine, Irene Adler.

So what wasn’t great about Sherlock Holmes?

The mystery element left me feeling a little unsatisfied. The ending didn’t leave me with that “ah ha!” moment you get when you realise how something was achieved at the end of a suspenseful film. Rather, it left me bemused and slightly disappointed with the outcome. Not to give away the plot, but there are heavy doses of what could perhaps be described as sci fi, or at least the use of too-modern-for-its-time technology, in the explanations of how Lord Blackwood was able to do what he did.

Taking that away though, Sherlock Holmes is still an entertaining romp, and a pretty good way to spend 2 hours of your time.

Sherlock Holmes scores a Steve-O rating of 3.

Oakes signing off.

Poo

So, this week I have been flirting with danger, and I guess it was only a matter of time. Well done to the first winner of the R250 A Day Challenge, who noted that I was a day late in publishing something on Thursday.

Stephen Oakes (no relaton?) please drop me a line and my people will arrange for your prize to be delivered.

Oakes signing off.

Shaun Feeling Sorry For Himself

Competitions: Money Shaun will never win.

I could well be the unluckiest person in the world. Now granted, it’s a completely and utterly ridiculous thing to say – I know for a fact that there are people out there who have far worse luck than I do – those who have lost limbs in freak accidents for instance, or those who bank at the FNB branch in Gardens.

I do however, have terrible luck when it comes to competitions. Since I first became aware of the concept of winning something for doing nothing, I have literally never won a single thing – well, save for a pink hair brush and makeup set in a dodgy school raffle back in ‘91, but I completely discount that prize, as an eight year old straight lad with self esteem issues would never regard getting a Tinkerbell makeup set as a win.

No, I am of course referring to the countless competitions I enter, both online and off – the various cars, pens, watches, trips overseas and vast sums of money I try and win on a regular basis, which thus far has sadly come to naught.

The European Lottery, which I play on a weekly basis, is a case in point. Every Friday I studiously play my lucky numbers, consisting of the first time I had sex, the number of girls I have had sex with, the number of sexual positions I know, and the number of times I can have sex on a given night. Using this unique combination of one depressingly high number, together with three disappointingly low ones, I am always naively optimistic that my chances of winning are fairly strong.

I will go to bed on a Friday night, visualizing the email I will receive on the Monday morning, and the little dance I will spontaneously break into upon my announcement as that week’s winner (it’s usually a toss up between the Robot and the Macarena, I can never be too sure which one will take hold). As I try and feel up The Girlfriend in the bed, I will begin running through the technical specs of the luxury yacht I will purchase, whilst also mentally compiling a list of the various people I will visit with my Lamborghini Murcielago. People I will then proceed to mercilessly gloat in front of, before again breaking out into an impromptu rendition of the Robot or Macarena.

According to the latest figures released last year, South Africa currently has just under 50 000 dollar millionaires, which is enough to fill Newlands Rugby Stadium. Now, that is a fair amount of big spenders, but I am willing to bet that not even 1% of them will have as much fun throwing around their millions as I will.

And I guess that is why I am not sitting with $100 million in my bank account right now.

To be ridiculously wealthy, you either have to be incredibly unattractive with no sense of fun (ugly people work three times as harder as the rest of us, as they have nothing going for them otherwise); morally corrupt to the point of being a crook; or one of those goody-two-shoes, helping-thy-fellow-man characters, as Karma tends to smile down on these new age hippies.

Since I am more of a weak hybrid of all three camps ( slightly weird looking man, with a loose moral here and there, who helps others only when they can offer something in return), I have somehow managed to fly under the radar of Lady Luck, who is no doubt looking down at me from her pedestal, laughing her arse off whilst breaking out into an impromptu rendition of the Robot or Macarena.

[Shaun's note: The European Lottery currently stands at £129 million. Give yourself a chance by clicking here and playing.]

Oakes signing off.