Captain my captain...

In preparation for the looming advent of summer I have done three things. I skip carb-laden fat meals quicker than a flyhalf should skip De Wet Barry on quick ball, I do more reps than Ron Burgandy does in front of a hot blonde co-anchor and I got myself a summer job...


Now since I am doing everything in 3s I might as well elucidate the 3 fantastic perks centered around serving people cocktails on the Miami strip of Africa. 1 - The relationship between monies earned and work provided is fantastic. 2 - The ratio between serving drinks and getting hit on by hot women is the same as the vodacom voicemail number. 3 - you meet some absolutely amazing fuckin' individuals.

I might start a biggest doos award and on saturday night a man virtually engraved his name on the trophy. I am pretty sure he will stay on top throughout the entire summer unless say he gets a good opponent and an english referee that is still in high school. Let's rather not go there and back to our 'boytjie'...

First 'the doos' insists on ordering shots of a mojito. Now for those of you who prefer your drinks not to come with umbrellas I'll inform you that a mojito is a refreshing light rum cocktail shaken over crushed ice with sugar, mint and lime wedges. The appeal of a mojito is encapsulated in it being tall, diluted and refreshing. So 'the doos' orders it to be poured out into shot glasses. If we do the math: 1 mojito has 2 shots of light rum (50ml) poured across 10 shots glasses that makes us 5mls of rum per shooter. You heavy drinking doos you...

Moving along. After making said poor, yet strikingly handsome and crazy sexy, bartender labour over numerous mojito shots he throws me that red-faced penetrating gaze of a western free state farmer that you justed helped fill out his tax return. It is a mixture of brotherly love, admiration and 'boytjie can I buy you a drink' bravado...

Sure you can buy me a drink, just make sure you tip me...


He throws his big hairy mechanic fist across the bar and thanks me like he saw Diddy thank 50 at the EVMAs, pulled away, said "its time for a..." and placed the West Coast Massive sign on his left shoulder..!!!

I was fuckin perplexed..! My erudite knowledge doesn't extend to the inner workings of the Los Angelos gangster underworld but this doos has obviously got an inside track with someone like Ludachris judging by the mechanic grease under his fingernails...


So I humoured him. "Bud, I have no clue what your 3 fingered shoulder slaute means, pimp my knowledge..."

He leaned in for the real thing and the conversation went like this:

Doos: My man, you weren't old enough to go to the army, let me educate you...
Bartender: Teach me where it hurts master...
Doos: [1 greasy finger on inner arm] Private!
[2 fingers on inner arm] Corporal!
[3 fingers] Lance Corporal!
[1 finger on shoulder] Sergeant!
[2 fingers on shoulder] Staff Sergeant!
[3 fingers west coast salute] Boytjie my boytjie, can I get a Captain!
Bartender: Dumbfounded!