Wednesday, 30 April 2014

A good compliment, at a bad time, is very bad indeed


A good compliment, at a bad time, is very bad indeed
30 April 2014

One can be mistaken for thinking that a compliment is always a good thing.  Cause sadly, at times, though the intention might be good, it doesn’t always come across as such.

And maybe that’s the magic combo – compliment + perfect timing = excellence.

Get the magic combo wrong, and you’ll be in the dog box.  Maybe not even lucky enough to be in there.

Thus the equation can go something like this – compliment + bad timing = disaster.

Personally, I’ve put my own foot into it, many a time.  Meaning really well, but sadly coming up short.  Saying just the wrong thing, at the wrong time.

But here’s the thing – I’m not the only one.  I bet you’ve put your foot right into it too.  Plenty of times.  And listening to the stories of friends of mine, they’ve done the same.

For me there was that time, I complimented an old school friend on how lovely she was looking with her pregnancy.  Feeling pretty chuffed with myself.  Until she replied, that her baby son, was two weeks old…..  If only the earth would’ve opened up and swallowed me whole.

Another friend of mine, had been dieting like crazy, for weeks on end.  Showing extreme self-discipline with her food choices and healthy life style.  And upon asking her husband if he could see the results of all of her hard work, his reply was, “Your bum’s not looking so bulbous anymore”.  Not sure either him, nor my friend ever quite recovered from that “little” gaffe. 

Stories like these are usually extremely funny.  Mostly because they’re not fabricated.  They’re based on honest to goodness real life experiences.  Fact truly is stranger than fiction.

One of the worst things about the awful-compliment-timing-thing, is the fact that the very second you open your mouth and hear your own voice, you just know that it’s wrong.  But by that stage, you can’t take it back.  Nor reverse or rewind.  And thus you’re left with awkward apologies.  And a terrible, horrible, awful feeling.  Right in the very pit of your stomach.

However, fear not.  There is hope.  I’ve also been on the receiving end of the awful-compliment-timing-thing.  And usually it’s made me laugh too.  Though sometimes it did take a bit longer to the see the humour.  Like that time some guy told me that long ago he had a girlfriend that looked just like me.  But she had a nose job.  And he advised me to not follow the same route.  I do believe I was stunned silent.  For the longest time.  I still giggle about it to this day.  In addition, I’ve told my whole family.  And they still giggle about it too.

And all of this, came to the fore, when I saw a funny pic.  A pic with a caption – usually my best.

And this little one was a gem – “I hate when you offer someone a sincere compliment on their moustache, and suddenly she’s not your friend anymore”.

Just gotta laugh at that!

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Tuesday, 29 April 2014

Emotional constipation


Emotional constipation
29 April 2014

Emotional constipation is a most terrible condition.  Affecting many.

From personal experience, I can confirm that though the disease is definitely more prevalent amongst males, females too suffer.  No one is above being affected.  Nor inflicted.

Though for most, the condition is visible from a very young age.  And herein lies the problem.  Because of the early onset of symptoms for some, they are conditioned to suffer for life.  It is not easy to break free.  Though with determination and the will to succeed, they can.

I know a few sufferers.  And I bet you do too.

These are the people that battle to verbalise their feelings.  Struggle with physical affection.  Though sometimes, physical affection of sorts, is their only outlet.  They find it difficult to say how they feel.  To cope with great displays of emotion.  To read the emotions of others.  They can be awkward.  Skittish.  Edgy.  Aloof.

It can seem as if they’re blissfully unaware of the undercurrents in any given situation.  Not quite picking up on the finer nuances around them.

I think they prefer to lead a life of moderate emotion.  No great joy.  But no great sorrow either.

And I have to wonder – do they really not feel a full range of emotions?  Has their emotional growth been stunted? 

Or are they merely incapable of expressing them.  And giving them a voice?

Do they have a virtual melting pot of seething feelings just boiling beneath the surface?  Or is there simply a void?  A lack of feeling altogether?

Perhaps life is simpler for them.  Less fraught.  No emotional turmoil. 

Though maybe it’s just a phase.

My teenage son, has a near terminal case of emotional constipation.  Though perhaps that’s not fair.  He shows a certain range of emotions – albeit a limited few.  There’s desire for stuff.  Disappointment cause he doesn’t have stuff.  Repulsion at personal questions.  Distaste at school and teachers.  Jubilance and joy at sport. 

But that’s pretty much it. 

I’m hoping that if he doesn’t succumb to his emotional constipation and spontaneously expire, he should start showing a broader spectrum of emotions by the time he’s about eighteen or nineteen.

Not entirely sure I’ll make it that long.

Deeply longing for the day I can hold a conversation with him, that does not revolve around sport, stuff he wants, or stuff I didn’t get him.

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My absolute favourite quote from the Tarzan movie - so aptly used as well. The timing was impeccable!

Saturday, 26 April 2014

It REALLY sucks that my dad died


It REALLY sucks that my dad died
26 April 2014

I mean, seriously!!!  What a chop!  Who smokes three packets of Gauloises Plains a day, and then doesn’t keel over from a tumour in the lung? 

Without a doubt, those bloody cigarettes, were surely at the crime scene.  Plain as day.  But were they the only cause?

My dad lived a life of exuberance and joyful excess.  He was loud, enthusiastic, the life and soul of a party.  Basically a really big kid.  He enjoyed his food.  He lived for music.  Was passionate about his art.  Given the fact that he was a musician, he had a thriving, teeming, busy social life.  Him and my mom spending more time, at all of the hip and happening clubs and pubs in Cape Town and surrounds, than I did.  Everyone knew him.  Everyone bought him a drink.  People naturally gravitated to him.  He was extremely charismatic.  Was the absolute best at telling jokes.  A natural and gifted entertainer.

Perhaps he’d done his fair share of fun and excitement?  His time on earth was maybe over?

Even when I was little, I could never really picture him as an older person.  Or even as a real adult.  I couldn’t imagine him reaching his sixties or seventies.  Or shrinking in size, as elderly people so often do.  Couldn’t imagine his voice one day turning quivery and thready.  Of him finally deciding by choice to lead a quieter more sedate life.

It’s almost as if, he’d used his allotted time up.  That one is only allowed so much excitement and experience in your time on earth, and he went through his share rather quickly.  He squeezed a hell of a lot of life and living, into 46 short years.

But man, I really wish he was still here.  It truly sucks that he died.

I would’ve enjoyed seeing him enjoying my kids.  Laughing at their antics and showing grandfatherly pride in their every achievement.  He would have actively encouraged mischievous behaviour.  Indulged in it.  Most likely feeding them sweets and treats.  And his favourite – huge chunks of cheese.  He would have encouraged frivolity and embraced every aspect of their lives.  He would have delighted in their artistic and musical sides.  Been charmed by my Berry’s breath taking beauty.  Would’ve enjoyed Luke’s serious, logical, analytical side.  Been enamoured of Cole’s goofy, quirky, different ways.

I often see little bits of him, in them.  Luke is determined like him.  Exceptionally intelligent, logical, methodical.  And diligent too.  When he sets his mind to something, he will do it.  Stubborn as well.  And then there was the colour blind gene he passed on through me, that settled in Luke.  Which in turn will one day, be a “gift” to Luke’s grandsons.  Like me, Amber got his beautiful olive complexion.  His wonderful sense of humour.  That sparkle in her eye.  And Cole?  Well Cole got the sillies – the clown gene.  The thing that makes both of them want to be funny and entertain others.  That made my dad and Cole think differently.  See life in a unique way.

I wish I could still chat to him.  Ask him things I really want to know.  There’s bits of me, that only he knows.  Shared pieces of history, that we share.  Special moments that just the two of us had. 

Nobody has ever looked at me, with the same look, as the one he had in his eyes, whenever he saw me.  Part adoration, part pure love, part indulgent fatherly pride.  And though my mom most definitely loves me equally, if not more, than my dad did, the look that she and I have, is a different one.  Just as special.  Wonderfully so.  But it’s a different one.

And in hindsight I’m realising, that most likely, the look I gave him, was equally unique too.  One just reserved for him.

I am grateful that he was such a big presence.  That he made such an impact.  That he was so seminal to me.  That he loved me absolutely.

Fifteen years later, and the missing has still not stopped.  It really sucks that my dad died.

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The Frost-Five - many years ago, at my wedding. A very, very happy day. So glad my Dad was there.

Friday, 25 April 2014

If women were like men...

 

If women were like men...
24 April 2014

If women were like men, life would be very, very, very different.

We are truly a different species. 

But if we weren’t, exactly how would life be different?  What unrestricted freedoms would we have?  How would life be altered?  What would we now be allowed to do?

And so, having a great fondness of lists, I decided to compile one myself.

If women were like men:

  • For one, we’d scratch our vajayjay’s in public.  All the time.  With no self-awareness or embarrassment whatsoever.
  • We’d never shave our armpits.  Ever.  We probably wouldn’t care about our fuzz.
  • Compulsory leg shaving would become taboo.  No more awkwardly balancing on one leg in the shower, while doing the dirty deed.
  • We’d most definitely pee in public.  Though having to squat would probably take away a bit of that magic.  And having to wipe too.
  • We’d burp out loud, with a great sense of glee.  Hitting our chests with pride.
  • Farts would be encouraged.  Heralded as great achievements.  Seen as signs of virility.  And hold special significance.
  • We’d welcome chest hair. 
  • The beauty industry would go bankrupt.  Fizzle up and die.
  • The word “selfie” would be discontinued.  The habit of taking selfies, too.
  • We’d fondle TV remotes like they had magical, mystical properties.  And protect them with our life.
  • No one would ever change the loo roll.
  • Loo seats would permanently remain up.
  • Washing baskets would be phased out.
  • Crockery would no longer be produced – paper plates would suffice.
  • The fruit and vegetable industry would crash.
  • The diet industry would come to a dead halt.
  • There would no longer be any romantic comedy, romantic, chick-flick, or drama’s produced in Hollywood.
  • A whole bunch of actors would be surplus to requirements and retired – Hugh Grant, Colin Firth, etc.
  • The movie genre, “musical”, would no longer exist.
  • Meat production would have to be stepped up and escalated. 
  • Houses would no longer be built with bath tubs - showers only.
  • Daily soapies would no longer be broadcasted on TV.  Nor would infomercials, and talk shows.
  • Houses would no longer bear trinkets.
  • No effort would be expended on colour coordination – either for the home, or personal wardrobe.
  • Long pants would only require two variations – one pair of blue jeans, one pair of black jeans.  At a push, a pair of beige chino’s. 
  • Chicken would be reclassified as a vegetable. 
  • Words like, "stunning", "fabulous", "peeps", etc. would fall into disuse.  In addition, excessive use of exclamations in written word, will also come to an end. 
  • The psychology, psychiatry and therapist industries, will cease to exist.  As no one would ever open up enough to discuss their emotions and their issues.
  • Soup would no longer be regarded as a main meal option.
  • Electric blankets and hot water bottles would no longer be used – real men don’t feel the cold.
  • Virility and manliness, would be judged by the size of your technological devices, i.e. cell phones, laptops, PC’s, tablets, TV Screens, amount of buttons on your TV remote, etc.
  • A beer a day, would be seen as a carbohydrate.  A vegetable too.  An essential part of the daily dietary requirements.  In fact a health risk, to not indulge.
  • The music genre, R&B, would be discontinued.  In addition, artists like Kenny G, will be flogged.  His saxophone will be chopped up, and bits will be sent to the corners of the earth, so that it can never be reassembled ever again.  Pan flutes will receive a similar treatment.
  • Sport would become a religion.  We’d all be side line coaches, from the comfort of our couches.
  • All telephone bills would be drastically reduced.
  • The word “small talk” would be referred to as the habit of indulging in brief phone conversations.
  • Nobody would ever comment on the weather, or make “small talk” with other people while standing in queues.
  • There would be pockets of lost people everywhere, cause no one would ask for directions.  Ever.
  • Laundry would be outsourced.  Commercial laundry services would spike, whereas the manufacturing and production of washing machines, tumble driers, and irons, for domestic use would be discontinued.
  • The floral industry would take a terrible down turn.
  • The haberdashery and greeting card industry would close down all together.
  • On the odd off chance that gifts are bought, nobody would ever wrap them.
  • Lap dogs would never be carried around in little baskets.  Instead, a lot of preference would be given to big dogs.  And all animals would be required to walk by themselves.
  • The term “hair-care-regime”, would mean washing your hair.  With shampoo.  Not necessarily conditioner.  Hair dryers would be defunct.
  • Wrinkles would add character.
  • Bellies would be embraced and revered.  Seen as a sign of wealth and opulence.  Indulgence too.
  • Only three pairs of shoes would be needed.  One pair of sneakers/takkies/trainers.  One pair of lace-up shoes, other than sneakers/takkies/trainers.  One pair of slops or sandals.  At a push, you could dish the middle pair.
  • Instinctively, we’d know which way to turn taps open, or turn a screwdriver.
  • The war movie genre would show exponential growth.
  • Sports like fishing, darts, hunting, wrestling, boxing, etc. would expand, whereas sports like synchronised swimming, netball, and ribbon gymnastics would fade away altogether.
  • We’d install our own programmes on our computers.
  • We’d instinctively understand the complexities of the electrical mains.
  • We’d naturally gravitate towards hardware stores.
  • We’d change our own light bulbs.
  • Crafting?  What is crafting?
Yes, the list would indeed be pretty endless.  We’d also be able to tune our own TV’s.  Have our own barbeques.  And so on and so forth.

But how empty a world it would be?  No depth, no colour, no magical, marvellous, womanly mystery.

And thus, though I would most certainly enjoy some of the perks of being a man (like peeing standing up), I most definitely am not prepared to give up my womanly comforts.

Like scatter cushions, pretty ribbons, lengthy phone conversations, leisurely hot baths, a love of salads and fruit, romantic novels, chick flicks…

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Wednesday, 23 April 2014

Letting my kids find their own dress style has been hard


Letting my kids find their own dress style has been hard
23 April 2014

Forget sleepless nights and potty training.  Forget the transition to solids and being up all night with a kid with gastro.  Forget teething babies and drool everywhere.

One of the hardest things I’ve ever been faced with as a parent, is letting my kids find their own style of dressing.

You have but NOOO idea!  Unless you’re a parent – in which case you understand perfectly.

It’s not only hard.  It’s exceptionally painful.  Excruciating in fact.

And I can confer, that this is equally trying with the boys and girls of the species.  These difficulties come in pink and blue.  Or should I say, in Barbie and in army-camo-print. 

Though, difficult as this might be, there has been one little “light” – everything is fluid.  Nothing remains the same.  Therefore, no sooner have I sort-of-adjusted to one fashion catastrophe, when the whole landscape changes.  Bringing with it, a whole new clothing horror scene.

I have two boys.  It is fair enough to say, that I have had more than my fair share of quite a few things.  If I NEVER EVER see army-camo-print again, it’s too soon.  But wait.  It doesn’t end there.  Forget the regular standard greenish-brownish camo.  It now comes in all colour variations.  There truly is no escape.  Moreover, it even comes in pink and purple.  And hence, even my daughter had a little bit of an army-camo-print phase.  And thus at a certain stage of my life, in true military style, all three of my kids were “blending” with the background.  Though to be fair, Amber would’ve had to be against a disturbingly bright pink, for the full camouflage effect.

In addition, my boys were BIG TIME into superheroes.  Some of them still are (though a bit more surreptitiously now – they want to admire superheroes, not dress like them).  From full head to toe Spiderman outfits and Superman suits, including little capes and masks, to Batman and Power Rangers too.  We’ve even done the Incredibles and Captain America (only mask – phew!).  But here’s the thing – my boys wore these dress-up outfits, like regular clothes.  To playschool and preschool, to visits to the shops.  At times, they were so obsessed, I had to wash them when they slept, so that it was right and ready again the following morning.  Some nights they even slept in them!  And the thing with superhero clothes is this – it really does come in regular clothes too.  There comes a time, when little boys are between the ages of two to six, when it’s just about impossible to get them clothes that are not emblazoned with some or other superhero.  Then there are the accessories – glasses and watches.  Wallets and caps.  Undies and socks.  Belts too.

Though in comparison, are these really worse than Barbie???  I fear not.  They are both on an equal horrific par.  And my little gal, loved her Barbie and fairy princess A LOT!!!  There were panties and socks.  Little shoes and glasses.  Bangles and bracelets.  Finicky little bags galore.  And if it was not Barbie?  Well, then The Little Mermaid stepped in and picked up the mantle.  And when she had to rest her weary mermaid tail?  Fear not – Cinderella would do at a pinch.  Also little tiara’s and fairy wings were HUGE – as in the must have accessory that had to be worn every single day.  And as with the boys, these were worn, irrespective of the destination.  A trip to the Post Office, a walk about at the Mall.  Though, to be fair, I did cope a hell of a lot better with Barbie, than I did with Hannah Montana.  I was never keen on Amber donning herself from head to toe in Miss Montana style clothing.  And I actually held out strong.  There was also an extremely lengthy ballerina phase – when tutu’s were the order of the day.  Worn over absolutely everything!

And then for years and years and simply years – the only colour that counted with my Amber-Berry, was pink.  The pinker the better.  The major upside being that everything matched.  Sort of.  Yes, it hurt your eyes at the same time, because of all of the shadings of pink.  But it pretty much blended.  Kinda.  And I was just slowly teaching myself to not gag at the sight of all of that pink, when it all changed.  To purple.  I kid you not.

Then most kids at some or other point, go through a complete and utter colour blind phase.  And though one of my kids is technically colour blind, at times, his siblings fared far worse.  Or perhaps it’s lack of colour awareness.  Patterns and prints too.  Polkadots, stripes and camo all worn together.  In glaring clashing style.  Weather also played no role whatsoever in choosing an outfit.  42 Degrees Celsius outside?  No problem – perfect for wearing a pair of tracksuit pants, with a tutu, rubber wellington boots, sans socks (there is no stench that can match that), a long zip shirt, with a t-shirt thrown over the top, a beanie, and a scarf.  Thank heavens body odour only develops in latter years!

Anyway, when it comes to my kids style of dressing, some things have now changed.  The camo, pink, Barbie, Princess and Superhero garb is now all a thing of the past.  Sad in a way.  Cause at least most of that stuff was kind of cute.  And manageable.

Now, it’s not so much.  One of my kids would love to be donned from top to bottom in sporting gear.  Lumo sporting gear, if possible.  The brighter, the better.  The added advantage and bonus of this being, that it does help me to find him when we’re out and about.  He’s kind of hard to miss.  And he’s an adventurous runner – so being able to spot him from a distance, is actually a good thing.  One of my kids has a few favourite outfits – namely one pair of pants (this child does own more than one), one t-shirt (this child has a few), one long sleeved shirt (yip – got more than one), and one sweater (got a few of those too).  These are worn irrespective of heat wave or cold spell.  I have to forcibly bite my lip to prevent myself from saying anything, when this kid wears it.  Day.  After day.  After day.  After day.  In addition, I have to physically restrain my husband, who lacks the same sense of self control.  And remind him of his fashion sense in his teens (two words usually do the trick – “blanket jersey” – it was really horrendous, and in hindsight I feel for his folks).  Yet another of my kids has, much to my dismay, discovered animal print.  It’s a cruel variation on army-print-camo.  Once again, all colours are now available.  In addition, this kid, likes the whole rock/punk look.  And small clothes, displaying midriffs, have now been reserved for at-home-wear.

I shudder at what the future might hold for me.  As yet, I only have one boy, who constantly has his jocks on display.  I’m sure that soon, both of them will be flashing their briefs over their pants.

I’m guessing that this is of course all part and parcel of raising kids.  Now, during their youth, is their time to experiment with clothes.  To find their comfortable space.  To discover that which makes them feel best.  And if they embarrass us parents in the process, it’s all a part of it too.  Cause let’s be honest – no matter what us parents wear, we embarrass them constantly as well.  So maybe it’s all fair.  In a warped kind of way.

In addition, I am guessing I put my folks through the same horrors.  I remember my midriff phase well.  As well as my torn, holy, ripped jeans phase too.  And is there really any explanation for the bubble skirt fiasco?  And my obsession with wearing yellow and purple together???  Years and years of fashion faux pas, before I eventually saw the light.  Or have I?  My kids would say I’m still suffering through it.

Worst bit of all?  When it comes to my kids clothing, I really only have myself to blame.  Cause who buys them their gear?

Yip, that would be me.  The idiot wearing a bubble skirt, over a pair of torn, holy, ripped jeans, sporting a crop top purple shirt, with yellow accents.

Perhaps best I keep quiet.

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My cutie little ballerina

 
This one is a double whammy - way too much matchy-matchy army-camo-print

 
My beautiful and graceful little Ballerina. Boy. This is the physical evidence of the downside of having an older sister, that is besotted with Ballet. You end up dressing up together.


Exactly how much pink is too much?

 
Trying to start a new fashion trend - the Barbie panty/beret look

 
I spot a wee bit of army-camo-print


Spidey is lurking

 
And yet more army-camo-print

 
My guess is that despite the long flannel pyjama pants, beret, long sleeved shirt and rubber boots (most likely without socks), this was a hot day - hence the swimming costume put on over the whole lot 

 
Baby Spiderman, desperately trying to fit into his big brother's Spidey outfit


Definitely unisex superheroes - Superman. I mean girl.

 
Superhero cuties - please note that Supergirl is wearing a pair of princess sandals, complete with little heels and bling fluff


Spiderman, donning a pair of ballet shoes - perhaps they're really good for grip, when climbing
 

Definitely a hot day, judging by Cole's outfit in the back, still Amber chose a pair of Ugg's with her ballet tutu and t-shirt

 
Batboy with his axe

 
Bling sparkly princess fairy outfit with ballet shoes

Tuesday, 22 April 2014

Call me maybe - Cheerleaders vs Troops


Call me maybe - Cheerleaders vs Troops
22 April 2014

This was sent to me a while ago, and I absolutely LOVE it.  My kids and I have watched it a few times.  And we still enjoy it.  Every single time.  I even subjected my husband to it, and he enjoyed it too.

So here’s the story…

Being in the military and being stationed away from home, must suck.  Big time.

Most especially, as the military landscape in America changed rather radically after 9/11.  Nothing has ever been quite the same.  Since that day, brave soldiers have found themselves being sent off to “charming” and “quaint” spots.  Very far off the regular tourist route.  There’s Afghanistan and Iraq.  Lebanon and Somalia.  Libya and Pakistan.  Georgia and Haiti.  Not the kind of place, people might ordinarily choose to visit.  Especially given their questionable safety, humanitarian, and all round upstanding reputation of late.

Now don’t get me wrong – I am sure that all of these countries have a charm and magic of their own.  Most likely some beautiful scenery and wonderful people.  However these military troops, are usually seen as the foreign enemy.  They live in dangerous areas, in military compounds.  Very far removed from the creature comforts of home.  I picture metal trunk beds, thin mattresses, squelching heat, or bitter cold, feeling like a target, dorm-style accommodation enforcing a lack of privacy, canteen style meals.  “Lovely” edible treats like powdered eggs – just add water.  Instant coffee – no capu’s for sure.  Loads of corned beef and spam.  And very little in the form of entertainment.

Further I envision, irregular contact from home.  Not having laptops and access to Facebook.  An indulgence in man-style entertaining – loads of roughing it up.  No quick nip down to the shops.  And having to exercise caution during the infrequent contact they do have with home, lest they give away location, etc.

Clearly, this would not work for me.

But perhaps I judge this all wrong.  Yes, my Dad watched M*A*S*H when I was a kid.  He was the boss of the remote and there was very little alternate TV viewing on offer.  Therefore, unless we fancied ourselves reading a book, or doing something else, we watched M*A*S*H as well.  Maybe troops away on deployment have it very differently now.  Maybe there’s way more luxury and regular living mixed in with the living-abroad-with-the-army-thing.

Anyway, be that as it may, I still think that boredom and a yearning for the normality and everyday activities of home, must be hard.  Which is why I enjoyed this clip so much.

A US singer, Carly Rae Jepson, did a catchy little song called, “Call me maybe”.  A nice little poppy tune.  Enter the Miami Dolphins Cheerleaders.  These lovely young 34-24-34 lasses were away in the Dominican Republic, doing their annual swimsuit calendar.  And so, being swept up in the beauty of their surroundings, the catchy little tune, being the catchy little tune of the moment, and being in the mood to have themselves a bit of fun, they decided to do a lip sync video of themselves on location, miming the words to the song.  Yes, there’s a whole lot of booty on display.  Gyrating and suggestive moves too.  But clearly the girls were just having some fun.  They decided to upload their video to YouTube, and quite predictably the views just racked up.  They were an internet success.

But here’s the thing with the internet – it’s kinda global.  Even reaching far-off places like Afghanistan.  And then, in response to the video by the girls, a bunch of Marine Troops, stationed in Afghanistan, decided to do their own lip syncing version of the song – this time based on the Miami Dolphins.  Mimicking and copying their every move.  With a few minor adjustments – due to their surroundings of course.
 
Well, the end result is brilliant!  I include the YouTube clip - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H96-TwrwY7M

It has a split screen, so you can view both versions at the same time.

No surprise, but the Marines did a stellar job of their video.  And not only have they become an internet sensation themselves, but they have a spawned a whole new trend and style – boys in the military, doing video remakes in their down time.  With some hilarious results.

Now I know it’s a bit silly and frivolous, but big up to these boys.  I salute their sense of humour and their positive, fun-loving attitude.

I’m not even American, and you make me proud.
 








Monday, 21 April 2014

Trashy Russian Wedding Pics


Trashy Russian Wedding Pics
20 April 2014

Man, I am probably the biggest fan of weddings you’re ever likely to meet.

I simply love everything about weddings.  From the beautiful bride and groom, the d├ęcor, fabulous venues, dolled-up-guests, delicious food, moving service, to emotional speeches.  I just love the whole shabang.

And probably best bit of all?  No two weddings are the same.  Every single one, has beauty and magnificence.  Something really special.  From big weddings to small and intimate.  From casual to smart.  From breakfast weddings to dancing night time ones.  From expensive shindigs, to more budget wise alternatives.  They’re all spectacular! 

I’ve been to many, many weddings.  And I’ve been a bridesmaid or flower girl probably about ten times.  Each wedding I’ve ever been to, has a special little place in my heart.

Though I have also seen the odd clanger at weddings, that have on occasion made me laugh.  The odd dodgy speech, or drunk elderly uncle or random wedding guest, and then there’s the frequent bizarre outfit too.

I firmly believe that all brides have a glow about them.  A bit of magic that shines through on their wedding day.

Movies about weddings are fabulous – yes, I’m a chick.  Therefore I love girly romantic wedding movies.  How surprising.  Not!

And then following my blog post about the 29 Most Awkward Family Photos, a Facebook friend sent me a link to the most dreadful Russian Wedding Pics ever.

And I am happy to report that I was not disappointed.  At times, I laughed out loud.  At other times I gasped.

How was this possible?  What were they thinking?  Were they even thinking?  And why didn’t anyone caution them?

Looking at some of these “gems”, I wonder how many of these people are going to look back at their wedding photos one day and go, “Good Lord!  Why did we do that?”.

But given the wonderfully happy faces on these pics, I reckon most likely none of them will.

In years to come, they’ll haul out their wedding album and say,

“Svetlana, my love.  We did good.  I like photo of me lifting car, wearing light suit.”

Or maybe, “Sergei, you look like strong man.  I like photograph of us on bird on water, like Swan Lake.”

And let's not forget, "Yuri, I like picture of you and me (Olga), dressed like centaurs. Pity we can't see more of your light coloured suit."

Yip, they’ll probably still love their “stylish”, and unique wedding pics.

Russians like to roll like that.  I think.

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Not really a classy or classic wedding pic per se. But each to their own, I say.

 
By the looks of things, her man will do whatever she says. She clearly has weight advantage over him. Perhaps more disturbing than his impalement-with-French-roll, is the R14,99 Crazy Store Crowns. And rather interestingly, they're both wearing crowns - she's not doing the dainty and delicate tiara bit at all. Good luck Boris!

 
Right! Lovely little shot to add to the wedding album. Just imagine granny scrolling through it and coming across this little gem. Sweet!

 
Now I could be wrong here, but it looks as if "she's" shifting her package a bit to the left. There is a small possibility that Anatalya is in fact Anatoly.


Russians are known for their fondness of ballet. And I suppose this lovely couple is no different. Therefore, for their wedding pic, they decided to depict, "Swan Lake".

 
Ring finger - middle finger. Po-tay-toe/Po-tah-toe.

 
Eish! Interesting. Hen pecked much?

 
Wallowing in the mud, in your wedding dress. Sporting a diminutive crown, and a fake golden arrow. Nice one!

 
All I can say is WHY???

 
Now, now - couldn't we perhaps have waited until after the reception? And the photographer had left?

 
Ain't she a princess

 
Beautiful! I'm thinking she possibly works in a club catering to gentlemen folk. Mostly likely dancing with poles.

 
For the love of all that is holy!!! What is the meaning of this???

 
Creepy. Just plain creepy! His expression and super feminine diamond studded rings are really odd too.

 
Whatever blows your hair back...

 
Doing the locomotive. Can anyone possibly explain why the bride has an extra pair of legs???

 
Aaahhh! A classic shot of the bridal party running away from the chapel, an explosion, and the transformers. Well why wouldn't they?

 
Oh, but to have a set of wheels like that!

 
Is this not perhaps a crime scene? Are those bodies or are they still breathing?

 
Yet another bridal-party-running-away pic. This time, they're running away from Gulliver... I mean Grigor.


What's with all these super skinny grooms wearing light suits? In addition, is there some or other weird auto-erotic thing going on? Lots of posing with cars.

 
This just plain looks wrong - what's in that cup? The fountain of youth?

 
The small best man and bigger bridesmaid were obviously both awarded the honour of being class captains of school, during the week of the wedding. Look at their beautiful red sashes of power.

 
Aaahhh yes! The accordion - how lovely... Now there's an instrument that simply shouts, "hip and trendy"!

 
The bride sporting an interesting and rather "sexy" look while posing for the camera - over finger foods

 
Wow! That's a whole lotta bling! Love the way simply everyone is dressed smartly in black suits, and Vladmir on the right is simply wearing his jeans and black leather jacket. Though it is entirely possible that he was just an innocent bystander walking past, and they needed another set of hands to hold some more bling.

 
This is happy - never seen a more glowing bride...

 
This is my favourite pic. Sincerely. They just look so happy. Guessing their marriage will be filled with lots of laughter and love. Bless!