What a weekend...!

After a weekend of such magnitude it is kinda hard finding a girl that can do Monday justice. I now fully understand Monday blues. The weekend is such a ripper that anything Monday can bring pales in significance...

The abatement of breath for Tiger's opening night was a waste. The queue didn't get much shorter than two hours long the entire night. The lure of 'comps' for many was as unfounded as the promise of Scotland winning the 6 nations. The quoting individuals that strutted around chests out flaunting their personalised invites for the big opening were not alone...tiger handed out 9000 such invites.

A club that can accomodate 200 people should not hand out 9000 comps. I have seen Main Rd taxi with bigger interiors than that. However 2 things were made clear from friday nights happenings. Firstly Tiger is not going to follow the Claremont underage trend and allow people below their 23 age to enter, except those that look older enough. (see photo below as proof) The second truth that friday uncovered for the people at Tiger was that they should have built it a shit load closer to Durbanville and save the patrons they attract the commute... [testament to this would be a picture of the 90kg Tannie I saw wearing (yes you guessed it) a Tiger print outfit...leopard prints are so last year...]

In terms of the sporting element this super weekend provided it is kinda hard to put it into words. A late try by the Hurricanes to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, (or more like the Stormers snatching defeat from the jaws of victory) was epic for me as a huge Canes fans. How a team loses 8 of its own lineouts and still manages to win is a mystery... The cricket well... was the cricket. I don't assume to have even a glimpse of the authority to write about what can only be described as the most amazing thing in sport since Roger Bannister ran the 4 min mile...

My absolute highlite was finshing the Argus though. I take my hat off to anyone who has spent more than 2 hours sitting on something that only accomodates 40% of your ass. Its remarkable that people do this for fun, let alone professionally. I now know what Edward Norton felt like in American History X. Anyway I am patting myself and my tandem partner on the back (a slap on the arse would be too painful) for managing to do it with a bike chain that broke more often than the stormers defence...


I will relate one interesting anecdote that might bring humor to you. My beloved tandem accomplice led me to the top of the gruelling Chapman's Peak incline and we had a agreed that I would stop to get my cramping quads rubbed down at the physio tent on the summit. We stop. I hop off. I change my mind and say: "Butty, I will just grab some water and have the rub down after the descent!" My breath must have been flailing or his ear blocked cause he just continued to ride...

He took our beastly blue excuse for a bike 600m down the descent before a roadside spectator chirped, "hey boet where is your partner..?" I was now 400m behind him sprinting down the hill screaming for a lift...

Oh and beware. Today is the Ides of March...