Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Monday, November 26, 2007
Friday, November 23, 2007
Fair Fight.
Ricky Hatton: 43-43-31.
Floyd Mayweather Jr: 38-38-24.
The verbal banter between these two has been fierce and will surely adumbrate how the fight will turn out. Hitman Hatton with his poor slum child cockney slur battles to elucidate with any form of eloquence the vile feelings he harbours for Mayweather and this strongly echoes his pugilistic skill. Pretty Boy Mayweather on the other hand spits out verbal jabs that mirror his graceful, efficient and skillful boxing style.
Their styles are worlds apart but their records are the same. Both have the big 0 at the end, but no one will talk away with their unbeateness intact. 8 December is going to be a cracker.
The media is drumming up a storm. It makes funny reading to read the skysport write ups and then the ESPN ones. It's like reading about the Stormers in the Cape press.
Look out tonight on SS5 (205) at 22h00 for the first in a series of pre-fight build ups. Think its called Hatton-Mayweather 24/7...
Watch your face...
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
The Short Game...
Shortly after the Pope had apologized to the Jewish People for the treatment of Jews by the Catholic Church over the years, Ariel Sharon, the Prime Minister of Israel, sent a proposal to the College of Cardinals for a friendly game of golf to be played between the two leaders or their representatives to demonstrate the friendship and ecumenical spirit shared by the Catholics and the Jews.
The Pope then met with his College of Cardinals to discuss the proposal. "Your Holiness," said one of the Cardinals, "Mr. Sharon wants to challenge you to a game of golf to show that you are old and unable to compete. I am afraid that this would tarnish our image in the world."
The Pope thought about this and since he had never held a golf club in his life asked
"Don't we have a Cardinal to represent me?"
"None who plays golf very well," a Cardinal replied.
"But," he added, "there is a man named Jack Nicklaus, an American golfer, who is a devout Catholic. We can offer to make him a Cardinal, and then ask him to play Mr Sharon as your personal representative. In addition to showing our spirit of cooperation, we will also win the match."
Everyone agreed that this was a great idea. The call was made. Of course, Nicklaus was honoured and he agreed to play as a representative of the Pope. The day after the match,
Nicklaus reported to the Vatican to inform the Pope of the result.
"This is Cardinal Nicklaus. I have some good news and some bad news, Holiness," said the golfer.
Tell me the good news, Cardinal Nicklaus," said the Pope.
"Well, Your Holiness, I don't like to brag, but even though I have played some pretty terrific rounds of golf in my life, this was the best I have ever played, by far. I must have been inspired from above. My drives were long and true, my irons were accurate and purposeful, and my putting was perfect. With all due respect, my play was truly miraculous.
"How can there be bad news?" the Pope asked.
Nicklaus sighed, "I lost by three strokes to Rabbi Tiger Woods.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Anonymous Contributor: Why She Will ...
The 3 boxes you have to tick of a famous 'Are you self-obsessed? test to fall within the definition of self-obsessed are:
Box 1: You think about yourself!
Box 2: You don't think about others!
Box 3: When you were reading box 2 you though about yourself?
Um...check check check. However, we here are Rockstar Journals also have other people think about us, and we love thinking about other people thinking about us. This is why when our 'to-remain-anonymous' good friend sent us a postworthy post. We posted it. Check.
Why She Will: by Ari Goldstar
"You treat a dame like a lady, and a lady like a dame"
- Frank Sinatra
At the risk of sounding like an over-caffeinated 13 year old who's been watching reruns of Mulder and Scully: Trust No-one. Well, not no-one, your dog won't lie to you, but that hot little piece of ass snuggling up against your chest right now - don't trust her.
The fairer sex gets a raw deal. I mean, they're painted as the evil in the bible, they can't pee standing up and they're eternally being dumped by an unfaithful boyfriend/husband/some guy she drunkenly took home last night.
At Rockstar Journals, we try to break down stereotypes. We're all for sexual equality. We're regular Martin Luther fuckin’ Kings.
Trading up is part of human nature. You always want something better. The grass is always looks greener. I wouldn’t be writing this now if I had to use a computer the size of city block which only read punchcards. Thanks to men before me always wanting better, I'm listening to music, downloading porn (not really Mum) and typing this all on a lap top smaller than Calista Flockhart's bum and quicker than Casey Stoner at Imola.
Guys have been replacing girlfriends with the newer younger model for time immemorial. Girls haven't had it so easy. On the occasion they've had a go it's generally resulted in unpleasantness for everyone. See: Henry the VII. See: the Koran.
Since girl power (what a great revolution that was) kicked onto the scene women have been more able to use their god-given socially manipulative skills. Or maybe now it's just more visible (and less widely punished by stoning).
In the last few months a number of my fellow megastars (it's not arrogant if it's true) have recently decided to replace their circa early 2000 models with newer, better and in one unfortunate incident, more spacious models. As with any upgrade one always checks the availability of the top models - I’m not going to get a Nokia 3210, if I can get a Blackberry. Come to think of it I probably wouldn't get a 3210 regardless - I had one and it was extremely temperamental, always breaking down ...
In the name of research a number and variety of newer models were approached, seduced and ultimately traded in. Ultimately we've been through it all and although haven't had this vindicated by each and every model yet, it's just cause she is a great liar. On a lonf enough time scale the survival rate for everything drops to zero.
The chances that a girl's going to cheat on you aren't a chance, it's a certainty. Of course, you're good-looking, smart, confident, more than any girl could wish for; and your girlfriend's never going to cheat on you. Right? Wrong. That's exactly why she'll get away with it though. Guys cheat stupidly. You're drunk and the leggy blonde eye-fucking you across the bar suddenly wants to drop the ophthalmic prefix. Of course, you take her right there on the dance floor in front of everyone - including your girlfriends 100 closest friends.
Women have been playing this game since Eve did the funky chicken with the serpent and are a lot more practised. So you won't ever suspect a thing, and when you find out, you probably won't believe it. Now if you think that you have somehow found the enigma, and your darling Kim is some angel. Not only is she lying to you, but even worse you are lying to yourself.
Now I understand that, in your social circle of friends, you're a big name (I’m big in Philipi), but if you truely believe that darling Kim would not cheat on you with say Mr Williams (and I don’t mean Serena’s old man) or some other celebrity, then you have obviously been rewarded for good behaviour and must be reading this article in the Valkenberg Library.
Now your retort could be that luckily Kim is never going o meet Robbie, and that is in all likelihood true, but since we have proved that she will cheat on you what makes you think she wouldn’t do it with Jonnie at Caprice, or depending on what Kim is like Wolf at Tiger Tiger, or for that matter Rob at Largo Road.
If you still believe that Kim is as innocent as she says she is, you should probably join the flat earth society or just keep her locked up in the kitchen. To expand this point any girl will cheat on their boyfriend/husband if the right guy, does the right things, at the right time.
For example this usually requires a rockstar to say “hello”, or at least make eye contact. Lesser mortals would obviously have to do a little more,.
If your maths is any good think of it this way.
X horny guys are going to make a move on your girlfriend.
The longer she is your girlfriend the higher X
Let Y be how hot your doll is. If Y is greater, then X is greater. However, if Y is lower, although X may also be lower, so are her standards.
So the odds of it happening to your girlfriend are just as likely as it happening to Seal’s. At some stage, when the moon and the stars and the sun (isn’t there a song that goes like that...) are aligned and you have just forgotten your anniversary (honest mistake), and are now away on business, so she can have the shoes she wants, or whatever the reasons (if I knew them I wouldn’t be writing this article but would be jumping on Oprah’s couch as I became an honorary member of her book club), she is going to cheat on you.
You don’t have to believe me, but if it'd help I could list example after example here of situations were girls have cheated on their boyfriends. I probably know one about yours. You've got my email address. Unless, of course, the story involves me."
Monday, November 12, 2007
No it's not...
I sometimes fail miserably to understand the influences felt by the mercurial concept of our social dynamic. Some guy sports a Trucker to the beach, next week everyone has a trucker. Some guy rips Gym Class Heroes off the the interweb, and then everyone is humming 'take your 'clothes off''. Some dude says 'no sure', everyone says no sure!
It is how things happen. This where it loses me.!Now as nice as trucker caps fit, and as sick as Travis McCroys' lyrics are and as versatile as 'no sure' is, I am not blown away by their popularity. No sure. However, what I don't grasp is how idiosyncratic social nuances filter from one typecast genre into one totally different.
Blatantly disregarding an argument for cross culture interaction and growth can someone please explain why preppy previously advantaged white kids flail around all English parts of the the country with the departing words, '...that's how I roll!'
No sure.
Flummoxed as to the true meaning and how its usage permeated into the vernacular of a Polo shirt wearing collar-up touting tanned white 20 something I resorted to the interweb to do some research.
From the erudite rap lyrics of Chamillionaire we have:
"They see me rollin';They hatin'.Patrollin'And tryin. to catch me ridin. dirty."
No sure. Not satisfied I hit the hardcore streets of interweb inner city to search it on urbandictionary dot com: I got 4 definitions -
1. What someone would say to insinuate that it was their style, or that it was the way they usually do things.
"Yo man so did you already hit it or what?Yeah, you know that's how I roll."
2. That is how I like to do things.
"I know I'm always wearing a bathrobe but that's how I roll."
3. That's how I do it.... or that's the way that I do it.
"*uck some labor...I take my ride through the wash, that's how I roll."
4. A response used when someone compliments your things.
"Bridget: Wow, Jackie! That is a nice plasma tv!
Jackie: That's how I roll!
For me the final installment in definitions perfectly encapsulates this creep of black American gangsta rap euphemisms into the mouths of people that are as closely associated to a gangster lifestyle as the new range of PUMA summer wrist cuffs are to last seasons D&G wrap-around aviators. Jackie and Bridget are hardly the names of people that should be quipping the phrase but I suppose they heard their cool older brothers Bradly and Michael say it first.
You're white Drama, give it up. The closest you've been to America was your High School soccer tour to Canada and the only West Coast you know is when your dad took you for crayfish at the Strandloper.
You don't roll dude.
Monday mens rea...
Yes, I have a leaning towards blonde girls, but any guy should, however my heart lies in the brunette ladies.
Imagine a picture of me and you in your modelling portfolio. Disasterous hey? How would someone hire you when they see what I look like? Guess you feel like Avril feels here, hot but not as hot...
It's not your fault bro, they only made one of me...
Thursday, November 08, 2007
There seems to be a disturbing trend amongst people in my extended social circle (ie. people who know me) to tie the knot. Now, I'm sure for some it's the ideal start to life, go to university, come out with a degree, a car a wife and two and a half kids. Instant white picket fence.
Looking on the bright side of the equation, a) it's not me getting married and b) bridesmaids. The general consensus about weddings, at least according to Wedding Crashers and every American Pie movie is that bridesmaids are easy. Hell, the same goes for every girl there. Watching her best friend of the moment get married is like a red flag to a girl. At least, that's the theory.
In reality, when the bride and the groom can barely legally order alcohol in 48 American States most of the guests at the wedding, bridesmaids included, think they're just plain nuts. So next time that guy you know from the room down the hall in varsity invites you to his wedding to his child-bride, don't rush out to the Macro contraceptives aisle. Chances are, the nice girl eye-fucking the shit out of you is paranoid you're going to propose and take the long drive out to suburbia.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Yes you. I'm talking to you. Are you trying to get me into bed? Do I look like I need your approval? I didn't think so. Then stop wasting my time telling me how cool I am. I know. Don't even consider comparing yourself to me just because my some freak occurrence we happen to have the same name. Don't pick and choose characteristics you think we have in common and then feel the need to define them for me. I speak the English language. Well. I know how to spell bravado. And it's not the word you were looking for. And by the way, don't you know you shouldn't use the word you're trying to define in your definition?
Some people long for these kind of minions, surround themselves with them. Yes men. I don't need them. I know how good-looking, successful and rockstarstruck I am. I don't need your affirmation. If you're reading this right now, chances are you don't either. So the next time someone starts showering you with compliments (it's just around the corner) pat them on the head and send them on their merry little way. Surround yourself with rockstars.
Monday, November 05, 2007
Friday, November 02, 2007
The silent competition...
Anywho! We have sureptitiously been running this post in competition for photo of the moment, kinda like a merger between our "rockstar of the moment" and "monday girl" inserts just sans the monday, the girl or the rockstar. Although some of these do fall into that category if the fat chick is called monday and the sri lanka cab-driving boob grabber is actually a girl... Confused. So I am...
In 3rd place: Whale Bells?
In 2nd place: The Marshmellow.
What's pink, red and white?
Don't worry Trish, that's not your son...