Monday...



Refreshing point of view...

RSJL: Article 15 The Wow Factor…

The thing that is most common amongst men yet holds the title of the most subjectively decided issue amongst them is none other than the appeal of the female form.

The love of women is inherent in ALL men. If you don’t love women, then you don’t qualify as a man. If you reason that is a logical fallacy by assuming the antecedent, you are a fag, and I mean that quite literally.

The other thing that we love, inter alia, is sport. Now, although you may attempt to argue to the contrary, sport is objectively assessed. You may now ask me if it is so that sport is objectively assessed then how do I explain such wide discrepancies of opinions in regard to every player, team, sport, outcome etc…

Very simply I reply that this is not because sport is subject but rather that we are a funny bunch that loves to argue and that a preference toward a team or player clouds are judgment making us biased fans…or loyal supporters depending on which side of the couch you sit. Enough of this now though, as our predetermined bias in sport means that not everyone supporters the All Blacks and if that was the case it would be boring walking around brimming from ear to ear after every tri-nations Saturday.

Back to women. Cast your blogging memory back to an early supposition that advocated the idea that what a girl finds attractive in the opposite sex is his ‘vibe’. You remember that? Well, after much deliberation it has dawned on me what the female equivalent is…Bingo.

Reverting to the premise that the appreciation of women is a subjectively assessed issue..! What I refer to with this is that men see women differently from other men based on their personal preference. Guys harbour a subjective choice preference that allows them to find some girls gorgeous whereas other guys would find the same lass as ‘not so’ gorgeous. Sure, some guys may share these preferences with other guys but it will be rare when you find guys that have all their preferences the same as another.

Before we experiment with practical examples I must make known that subjectivity may not translate into practical circumstances as the c-ankle girl on campus that you vehemently swore against is ripping up the dance square at tiger and after a few Wardable Bombs (shot of jager in an olmeca tumbler charged with a Red Bull) your judgment is impaired to the point where the visually offending dance queen is looking at you like you wished Angelina Jolie would and she bears starling resemblence to said Angelina...

Let’s now experiment with practical examples. Take Guy A and Guy B:

Guy A’s preferences: Big boobs, tight bum, long legs, white teeth.

Guy B’s preferences: Shapely boobs, tight bum, sexy hips, blue eyes.

Let me point out at this stage that although guys ALL like breasts, some guys will have a specific preference. Also in regard to idiosyncratic things like the fourth preferences the girl doesn’t need to have blue eyes for B to find her attractive BUT in the case of A if the girl has the opposite, like yellow teeth, he won’t find her hot regardless of her ticking all the other boxes…

The boobs example is great because a girl with no chest potential might be found repulsive to A despite her racking (pun intended) up points in other categories and that same how girl with rock B’s world because her small boobs may be shapely.

So here we are:

Pretty much every guy over the ages of 3 that has at least 1 of the 5 senses will find Giselle absolutely beautiful, whereas not all, albeit maybe a large majority, will find Paris Hilton as their “go to girl” come lights out playtime.

Of course this argument must include intangible characteristics of a girl that may sway a guy’s choice, hips, mind or all of the other to a particular girl. Elements such as reputation, personality and status may all play a role. I won’t get into it as it will be lank subjective and harder to grapple with but I find this nifty\quote from Denny Crane may elucidate my point:

“She is an angel in the bedroom and a whore in the kitchen…”

As decreed earlier I have stumbled upon what is akin to the ‘vibe’ in men, in women. Now as explained, all men love boobs, but it is then a subjective criteria as men have preference to which type of pectoral asset the girl sports. This however overarches these subjective possibilities and lands the poor guy helpless in that he has no choice but to be starkly attracted to the girl if she has it…

Very simply it is the “Wow” factor. You see the merits of your personal preferences to the female form are eradicated as worthless if the angel as this. Defining it is tricky but its presence is undeniable.

I think it is the reason a girl that may on first assessment seem average has the cancer effect of growing on you and the reason that a super girl actually turns out to be an utter showstopper.

The physical manifestation of a girl’s ‘Wowness’ is her sex appeal or how she manages to look heart-pausingly gorgeous despite the outfit. Sex appeal in its true form transcends fuck appeal. Fuck appeal is that carnal desire you need to extinguish but will only do and then never tell a sole, whereas sex appeal is the same accept you’re fine with your mentors and peers knowing about it.

In assessing the second concept of ‘looking amazing in everything’ we must be wary of falling into the trap of confusion it with those shape shifting night crawling MAC adverts that base the hell out of themselves to look attractive whilst running the promenade in Camps Bay or running you ragged across the bar at Bang Bang. What I mean by her ‘wowness’ is the painful pang that sears through your chest when she steps out of her front door all dressed up for you to take her for tsatiki and cocktails at caprice and that same pang when she wakes you up the next morning fresh from a shower bearing gifts of croissants and coffee.

If girl can bounce into my lounge in jeans and hoodie looking like a fresh winter morning she is all wow factor. It’s these girls that all guys cannot dispute carries the Belter title, angle title, showstopper title, and wow title. She is a keeper…

Keep your vibe up men; the power is strong with these ones…

Rockstar of the moment…

Its that time of our lives again! The time when we can take some time out and view our social position with a harness of perspective that we previously couldn’t mentally saddle. Yes, rockstars and showstoppers, one of us has stuck his neck out and shone himself out above the bright stars that hang above the earth.

The interesting tale to this success story comes from the fact that he didn’t just stick his hand up. He achieved far greater, he made a comeback! Our man Mick (for rhetorical sake) was riding the crest of an amazing wave, he was achieving goals that left his peers awestruck and yearning to emulate him. Mick was setting records and was threatened with the pinnacle of success that we would even adopt him into our full colours rank. However, Mick put his one foot (he can’t really put them both down) in the wrong place, and he fell from grace.

A senior RS member once made the same mistake with the very same girl, but we forgave Docstar with time. Mick rewrote history and leapt up from the depth of embarrassment 3 nights later.

In many cases actions can speak louder than words but in this case Mick wasn't protecting the rocky shores of Sparta with physical heroics he was display the most important founding virtue a man can possess, and he was doing it with speech. Mick was being honest..!

Mick's storys was punctuated with impressive actions and we'll pick up the tale from inside Mick's bedroom at 3am on a thursday morning when Mick was poised in attack position with a freshly naked lady standing in front of him.

[The events leading up to this point are fairly sketchy but it suffices to say it involved an oblivion bottle of wine, Gav as a great wingman and a strange scenario with a Barrister's waitress and a masters thesis on economics.]

Here is where Mick rocked our world -

Freshly naked loony masters student: Oh Mick, before we go any further [ample bossom swaying in the breeze] please do tell me! What are you going to think of me tomorrow?

Mick poised in attach position: [pensive pause of thought] Look, I'll be honest, I am not a doos, but there is an overwhelming chance that I'll never phone you after this..!

Freshly naked loony distraught masters student: - gathered up masters student uniform and made a quick exit through the front door.

Honesty builds nations Mick. We salute you...

Turning over the coin...

If you haven't read the post below, have a go now! I dare you.

Lovely, now that you've scrolled back up and are in disbelief at how backward some people still are consider this side of the coin.

Strolled up for a chicken burger and found this queueing in front of me. Pretty interesting.













Just goes to show that we obviously aren't all that different afterall...

For anyone's sake...

Lately I have been having 'one of those days' intermittently reoccuring during my normal week. At best I probably have 'one of them' every month but of late these have been more common than a patchwork leather jacket at an Egoli cast autobiography signing session.

I love the term 'one of those days'! It rolls off the tongue with such ease but more importantly it brings abrupt closure to the lips of the nosey ass person that just asked you how things are going? You don't like them, they don't like you, besides their most recent ex-girlfriend you've shared nothing in common yet here the fool is asking how you are? Bingo. "One of those days"!

It is basically the most underutilised yet most devastatingly effective social tool you can employ to get rid of someone. It's the ultimate coup de grace:

Anon: "Hi Jake, how you doing?"
Jake: "Fuck off Luke, You're fat and shorter than your sleeves. I'm not picking you! Bingo!"

You could have just said, "I'm having one of those days..!"

The reason for the cure-idiot-in-your-presence affect is that no one wants to know another persons problems so they'll piss off quicker than Graeme Smith gets back into the changeroom just so they don't have to hear what is crap in your life...

However, with this in mind. I didn't get this here little post off with my acclaimation so you would stop reading. Oh not at all. Instead I want you to read this, cause it is for your benefit. Bingo.


It all started last tuesday night when I found myself at a "Farewell party" at Tiger. A good mates girlfriend left for Europe that morning so we were celebrating her farewell. Things were going just fine and dandy when this retard dressed in his school uniform knocked my Heineken off a ledge and onto some fat girl on the dance floor.

Now Heineken's are replaceable as are, unfortunately so, fat girls but what really got my eyes brows elevated was the fact that this aforementioned retard was sporting his Diep River High school kit. I was then informed that you forego 60% of the R30 door charge if you dress up to the Back2School theme.

What the fuck is that? A CNA advert. Are you kidding. Fuckwit, that provision is there on the entrance advertisement to encourage little blonde girls to dress up in knee length stockings, short skirts, red bras and high-heeled barter toughies (clear heels if a fishhoek girl) to fulfill our peadophilic sexual tendancies, not so some spanner head like yourself can wear khaki shorts and a tie.

Good God. I'd pay you 20 bucks to go back to your car and change. Fuck I would pay you forty bucks to stop licking my spillaged heineken off that plump tart's boobs. Aaaaahhhhh...

Honestly however my 'one of those days' feeling preceded that night when I strangely fell upon something and was led to the corresponding internet site. Thankfully I fell on it figuritively not physically. Go check out http://www.femmeplus.co.za/! It might shed some weird light onto how fucked up some people are. It's basically a urinary funnel that allows women to urinate standing up. I can't talk about this anymore. Please go check it...


Moving along. My 'one of those days' sentiment was compounded over the weekend and culminated in me having a conversation with this guy out in Paarl.

The u20 team of rugby rockstars I coach had a fixture out in Paarl. Cape Town league, opposition in Paarl, you can sympathesis with my averment. Fuck, it would have been easier to fly to Kimberly and drive there than having gone on the N1.

Anyway we get out into the Boland, Free State, Angola, where ever the fuck it is and we aren't scheduled to play at the Rugby Stadium but rather at the municipal soccer fields. Flat patch of grass, four lines, four posts...I am fine with that. We came for rugby not a fashion show.

Trevor (prnounced Tray-ver) the rotund Head Coach of the famous Paarl under20 division comes to greet me whilst I am out on the pitch doing that Matthew Hayden psyche up thing. We were scheduled to kick off at 14h45 but the curtain raiser was a few fixtures between surrounding Platteland school sides that obviously don't have the facilities at their respective schools.

Now I don't use the term Platteland school loosely. It's used in a very tight and very specific manner. Basically we have four school teams of Boland vinyard-hand's male offspring enjoying some footie and close on a hundred papsak swirling screaming supporters. Yes, they are all coloured people, but all rugby enthusiasts.

This prick Trevor who looks like a Weber braai advert (not the guy in the advert, literally the advert) comes and apologises to me for having to play at a venue with these people...

These people? Are you Ashton Kutcher? I freaked. I went berserk. I couldn't believe him. I have these people and other "people" in my team. Don't you dare for a fuckin nano second group me into your laager of closet racism you fat anachronistic dutchmen! I put him firmly in his place and told him we would see him on the 'veld'. My little band of spartan's then drubbed his blue bull-esque pack and big protein fuelled centres 5 tries to 0. And four of my sides tries came from players of colour.

I am incredulous that people with that mentality roam the hinterland. They should be shipped off to the Netherlands or something. Bingo!

Monday missus...

The finish line...

I love being humbled. Life at the top gets pretty lonely and it's increasingly difficult to maintain your competitive edge the higher you get up the leader board. Standing on the podium of the rockstar leader board is no different so I set myself a challenge...

I have never liked running long distances. My ancestors were a burly shortburst bunch and didn't do much of the long distance nomadic things like those of you whose relatives lived in the desert. We ate freshly caught antelope and chickens not endurance chased camels and stamina overhauled roadrunners. Beep beep...


As a result my race are short, stocky and masaga quick, not wirey, rangey or over 10km. Goal: 21.1km of pain, hardship, fatigue and medals.

I set myself the goal of finishing 21.1km. I then did some training and bumped my goal up to doing it under 2hours, not just the 3 hour cut off. Then I did a lot more training and found I enjoyed a 5min/km pace. I then ran a 15km trial run of a race in constantia under 74minutes. I then got cock sure enough to drop my 2hour cut off goal down to 1h45min based on my performance, training and 5min/km happy pace...

Now here is the thing. I entered cause I wanted to challenge myself. I trained cause I knew I had to. I trained and got a head of myself. I wanted to be brought to my physical knees quite literally. I have hated endurance sports as a kid with incredible passion. The Balgowan school nurse exempted me from Interhouse Crosscountry more than she medicated herself with Glenmorangie. But after evading what I hated so often for so long I decided to bite the bullet and not let my blues eyes get me out of this one, I threw myself in head long...

I hate running. I hate every step. Why I did something I hate? Well, because I knew I hated it. And I wanted to be humbled by doing something I hated. Try it. Tyler asked, How much can you know about yourself, you've never been in a fight? I fought the road.


Now as mentioned, my fight with said road was going very well, so I got above myself and set myself cocky goals. The road kicked in my shins, blistered my feet, crippled my ligaments, cramped my muscles full of lactic acid and wiped up the mess around every water stations with the top of my head..! The thing is, I was the road. And I finished in the end.


I loved it. I enjoyed finishing something I hated so much I loved it...

You want to measure yourself mentally, break yourself down physically. Just remember that although everyone behind you is chasing you, no one in front of you is racing you...

Mon(tue)day girl...

Happy Easter...


So you're over the chocolate craze of your youth and you now know that the only exciting bunnies that actually exist live with Hugh Hefner but you can still enjoy Easter. Without trying to defile a religious holiday here is a little tip which may lead you to enjoy the day more...

A lot more you would expect...

Right now I am kinda disappointed. Almost like a RSJ reader at present since the lazy people in charge of posting have being living up to their superlative and haven't posted anything substantial of late. I won't apologise for the Rock and The Doc and will just say I've had mitigating circumstances.

Moving away now and back to the more important point of my disappointment. I have profound adoration over my happiness and get somewhat offbeat when it is diminished. Our good friends stroke cult heros at Collegehumor.com annually run what could be the biggest 'hot college girl' search world wide and they "usually: come up with some absolute crackers...

They scour America like Agent Mahone looking for a Foxriver escapee and "usually" turn out a bevy of beauties that would humble a Nic Ward-Able adveture to the roof top of stadium on main.

This year has not been" usual". They split the states into north, south, east and west and hold knock out competitions through online voting until we have a girl flying the flag of each region. Now the first girl is okay. I think the use of 'okay' says it all. The second girl looks like a poor man's Jennifer Love Hewitt. The 3rd slut I mean girl looks like all her brothers and sisters across the south of America have wifi and voted for her while slopping out the pig stys. The last girl is actually a belter but I am not sure if that's cause of the company she is keeping or cause she actually is one.

The fact remains. If these are the 4 hottest college girls in America right now, I am doing my masters degree at home...

Monday. Lovely!