My favourite moment as a blogger is when people ask me what other blogs I read.
“What?!” I invariably reply, “there are other blogs on the internet?! Holy shit, no! I don’t read that garbage, it’s bad enough that I write one, why the hell would I want to read someone elses?”
But the sad truth is that I too get miserably bored at work sometimes and find myself gravitating toward other blog sites, mostly just to affirm the fact that I am pretty much the Anti-Christ of South African bloggers and probably always will be.
Shaun Oakes has his moments too though – that whole Marine Taxis debacle that went down a few weeks back? Hilarious! And brilliantly handled too, made me wish some crazy old bat would bless this site with her incoherent, hate-fuelled ramblings. A guy can only hope…
And so I stumbled on his post about some Smirnoff hamper he was giving away on his site for this new thing Smirnoff is doing where they are going to put South Africa’s nightlife in a crate and ship it to some random country overseas.
Then they open it in the middle of a huge party with hundreds of people gathered there and BAM! Out jump The Parlotones!
Hahaha! Sorry, couldn’t resist ;)
No, they open the crate and BAM! Out jumps something, or at least a whole bunch of somethings that people have voted into the crate on Facebook.
The final say as to what exactly goes into the crate is decided by DJ Euphonic and DJ Fresh which totally defeats the object if you ask me because with stand-up guys like that calling the shots, there’s no way any crazy shit’s gonna get in there.
And, as anyone who’s truly experienced it can attest, SA nightlife is ALL about the crazy shit.
Me, I’d put David Kramer in there, no question about it.
Imagine everyone’s surprise when ol’ Dawie jumps out on the other side, banging out “The Royal Hotel” or “Biscuits And Biltong” on his guitar to a totally bewildered crowd of snooty, too-cool-for-school partygoers who have probably never once in their lives sat around a blazing fire with their buddies talking shit and listening to Mr Kramer’s classic ballads intermingled with the distant sounds of lions banging somewhere.
I think it’s a cute idea and all but I just don’t think what comes out of our crate on the other side is really going to blow anyone’s mind – does that make me a cynical basterd?
All we can hope, hope and pray, hope, pray and dream is that we get Columbia’s crate.
Now THAT’S a party I’d give a toe to be at, hooooooooooooooooo-weeeeeeeeeeeeee!
But seriously, am I the only one who thinks a crate packed full of Vuvuzelas, boerie rolls and Freshly Ground is a sure-fire recipe for a distinctly average night out?