Domestic Affairs ...

Rockstar Etiquette 101

Despite it´s rather mysoginistic name, the wife-beater is a standard article of clothing in any rockstar´s wardrobe. In fact, some rockstars swear by them to the extent that they often wear little else - bringing new meaning to the phrase ´rock out with your cock out´.


Now, children, before you rush out and buy one, I´m not saying you´ll look good in it. I´m not even saying you should wear one. Look at Mr. Britney Spears-Federline or whatever the fuck his name is.

I´m just saying that I look incredible in one, and goddamn it there´s nothing in this world like a fresh beater.

UPDATE: After a couple of queries as to where to actually procure a fresh 'beater - I'd suggest American Apparel if you're in London or San Francisco. If paying for an R8000 flight to get a decent 'beater seems a little extravagant - you need to get your priorities in order.

Dual Action or Dual Standards?

Everyone would probably agree South Africa is a country of many distinctions which probably seem out of place to an outsider. Having English, 9 home languages, and the Blue Bulls dialect Oostefourieskabeljoudonders Fontein probably seems slightly unresonable.

Likewise having some people living outside all of the time, while others only go outside to work on their tan, again, probably seems like the kind of thing we might want to address.


Classically, we've got a slightly divergent past and present.


In the Royal Kingdom of Thailand they have the same sort of distinctions in economic, linguistic and social spheres. Additionally, however, they draw a peculiar distinction between certain morally acceptable pastimes.

As my knowledge of the intricacies of this subject have been drawn through, um, oral, history & not first hand experience, I can't go into detail but what I've heard amounts to the following:

1)Catch a taxi to dubious place
2)Pay dubious amounts of money to dubious characters
3)Take various dubious ladies (and if you're not careful, men that look like ladies)to one of many dubious rooms
4)Perform a variety of dubious physical acts.

So I hear, anyway.

The aforementioned peculiarity comes in when you sit in the privacy of your own home.
Should you innocently attempt to:

1)Surf the internet
2)Stumble across Paris Hilton's collection of home videos, or the latest internet copy of Naughty Cheerleaders III
3)Attempt to perform dubious acts of physical nature on yourself
4)You will find yourself confronted by the inquisitive eye of Horus lookalike thing below.



Well. So I've heard.

Essentially an Orwellian Big Brother - it helps the Thai government protect it's subjects from all of the terrible things out their on the internet - ensuring that they'll never have to suffer through the watching Paris have sex on night-cam.

Strangely, whilst you're free to strut around downtown Silom with just about anything in fake nails, high heels less clothing than a miniature chihuahua on your arm, sitting at home on a sofa gently tugging the bishop is a sin. Really?

I mean, come the fuck on, it's not like I am sitting cross-legged on the leather couch in the WiFi hotspot of the local Starbucks wearing nothing but my Siam Hefster shower gown and Dsquared trucker...

In hindsight, much the same way Australia doesn't broadcast 5 day cricket to local area, I can only guess it's a clever economic ploy to get me off Google, put on some clothes and go swim with the sharks in the invested dive bars.

Bangkok Nights Stop 2: Tuesday Night

Friday night was so good I can't talk about it for a variety of reasons, not least of all that this site doens't yet have an age-restricted rating. Coming up though I have that 'random-Tuesday Night obliged to leave the apartment since I've seen everything on TV' and 'don't have a job to attend tomorrow morning and fairly sure that your presence there is expected by the rest of the clientele' feeling ...



Where to go? Bed Supper Club, Soi 11. It looks like the Lord's Press Box and I feel a bout of Kevin Pietersen coming on...

Deference...

I am doing the pensive-Tom Cruise-narrow-eyes-thing. Hopefully it looks like I am visualising the future and considering the repercussion of the decision that has flowed down from upper management. In Tom Cruise's case upper management would probably be a spaceship.


Rockstar has shown face on FaceBook. I am not raising a white flag - I'm just not raising my rifle scope...

Join the Rockstar Journals group here or email us at rockstarweb@gmail.com to get stuck on our mailing list for up coming e-newsletters. Probably for life.

The Dan Wall..!

I am no fan of journalists or any media people that insist on stating the obvious. It gets fairly tiresome and if I wanted to read about what was most likely certain to happen I would read that horoscope of mine that keeps going on about my future of fame, wealth and prosperity.

I also detest media writers that construct salacious farfetched stories premised on controversy sells newspapers. Fair enough they only write such jibberjabber because the public has a thirst for creating a world of bullshit to wonder around in but the rumour mill gets tedious.



With these two opinions in mind I tread intrepidly around this subject, Dan Carter and the RWC07. What has really ticked me off of late is the media frenzy around how 'bad' Danny Carter has been playing!

I mean come the fuck on. The guy set himself a benchmark over the last 3 years as undeniably the most outstanding rugby player of the modern era with amazing skill, flair and consistency when playing against the best sides in the world.



Now here is the thing. Since his belated start to the 2007 season (from game 9 of the Super 14) Dan hasn't nearly emulated his own high standards. How does the media respond? They accuse him of playing badly and having barrycrockers. To say Dan Carter is shit is probably the most controversial thing you can say in world sport right now...

Tiger Woods is over the hill, Lewis Hamilton has no future, Roger Federer is just lucky and England have a chance at retaining Webb Ellis are all fairly brash statements but the balls you have to entertain to support the idea that Dan Carter is playing shit wouldn't look out of place in the Valhalla bowling alley.

As given, he isn't at his own high standard after tests against France, Canada, SA and Australia but lets be pretty brutal. His average is any other flyhalfs blinder. Besides Larkham on the weekend Carter outplayed his opposite number in every test this season, yet gets labelled as shit. The only thing that has been below his mean standard would be his goal kicking but that is easily remedied.

Here is my theory. The gameplan the ABs are employing right now has him only distributing. His finesse is only employed at first phase and then beyond that he just moves the ball around (him and the other two flyhalves) and kicks for the corner (which he pushes out on the full at most once in every game). I won't argue that distribution is his best skill as in all probability Mauger is better than it than him and Larkham is still the world's best but that is his team role right now.



What I am saying is that Graham Henry's gameplan isn't centered around Carter. But that's crazy right? He is the best in the world, why wouldn't you? Simple answer. He is saving his tires for the final section of the race.

Team mark the Carter factor threat out of the game. Game tape analysis of the All Blacks over this year will force a defence to refocus elsewhere and Carter will have the RWC of every flyhalfs dreams. The dam is filling up and it is going to burst come September!

Basically Henry has taken his greatest weapon and made it a secret...

Transforming into Monday...

So I suppose I built up a head of steam and expectation about friday's nocturnal excursion into the nightlife of Bangkok and as a result you want a Field Report. Gentleman don't reveal details so I can tell you everything!

Shot down to the local movie venue and watched 'Transformers'. She performed so well I took her home with me afterward. Now I am sharing her with you...

When bad times get worse...

Okay so I am moaning about getting dragged to this model thing tonight and rightly so but unfortunately things have gotten worse. Apparently the thing doesn't kick off until 11pm so we have to find something to occupy ourselves before then..!

Supper at a place called Koi. Nice Japanese restaurant. Problem is the manager is ths worldly kinda guy with, and I quote, interesting proclivities and his policy is 'models at registered agencies eat sushi for free...'!

Good thing I don't have a taste for raw fish...

Hu(se) Bar..?

I think Bangkok was unfortunate to pick up such a heavy stigma of being the liberal hedonistic hub of South East Asia...so late in it's development! Since the world wars the involvement of the US Army in the business of everyone in Asia was extensive and Thailand was used as a launch point for air and sea attacks and for a relief point for the rest and relaxation of injured, and tired, soldiers.



The result of such a recipe sees us whip up a storm of a very westernised place, with strict eastern culture filled, with modernity and liberal ideas. Liberal puts it pretty lightly. Now Bangkok had some very dangerous stigmas built onto its worldwide appeal to travellers so from the early nineties the tourism department has taken huge steps to try rectify the demonic status it has amongst foreigners that aren't the scum of the earth.

The Bangkok of the 21st century is an incredible place with a heavy nightlife that rivals partying anywhere else in the world. However, it still has the place of old where anyone can venture here and lose themselves from their previous life.



I fortunately got invited to a model party tonight at Hu'u bar here! Great. However, on my way there I will be keeping an eye out for Theodore Bagwell complete with new hand and slave group of 13 year old boys...

4 week lights...

Some of us have holidays and then there are others that have real holidays. You can only really fall into the latter category if your trip starts with 12hours travel in an economy class airline seat with only a thin metal armrest separating you from belter...


The natural laws of preemption dictate that if you usually wish for something you end up not getting it. I stupidly asked to please sit next to a belter in an exclamation to a car carrying Jay, .9 and The Guv. They rightly pointed out there was no fuckin chance!


Well boys, it seems my four week trip to Thailand has evaded all laws of chance because I managed to get placed next to the hottest girl on the plane. She wasn't ugly..! I'll tell you about our stop over in singapore another time.

Monday Girl(s)



To make up for our lack of last week. Don't say we don't ever do anything for you.

Mullet Watch ...

In a bid to outdo the already top class competition one travelling Rockstar has sent in this beautiful self portrait, all the way from South America, of a fully grown Afrikannse Mullet . I think that's the scientific name. Geniet dit.

Overworked...

If exams (and ensuing mandatory release period) don't serve as enough of an impediment to your personal aspirations you must understand that a full week of work squashes your social enthusiam like Mugabe would a social uprising.

I gave up my weeks allocation of time, enthusiam, choice of dress code and social life for the scant reward of a covering reference letter commending my vac work participation that I will one day use to flagship my CV.

I have little doubt that my week of practical experience will have positive repercussions for my career at some point in later life but for the moment the positive affects have been somewhat limited.

The only thing I got to show for it is a massive crush on my exceptionally sexy boss...

Karma Chameleon ...

I've recently been introduced to the idea of Karma. Not so much introduced as slammed face first into it. Those of you who don't have vodka with your cornflakes in the morning probably remember I mentioned taking a little jaunt on a 60 ft yacht for a week. Good times. So far, so good.

Now, I'm a good person - I pay my taxes (they're automatically deducted) I don't kick cripples etc etc (I'm running out of things to say here). If I were Catholic I'd be holding my hand out for Sainthood. As it is, I dedcided to take a week out of my busy schedule to go throw a few hands of poker, catch a tan and drink some Croatian beer. Imagine my surprise then when I arrived onboard he HMS Madonna with my posse (always wanted to say that) to find not the group of Swedish supermodels I expected but instead some remnant's o Noah's Ark. I tried to capture a few on camera for you but even on a wideangle lens I could only get the smallest 4.



After a while, we started running through what we had done to deserve such a fate. It turns out that mocking fat girls, being better than everyone else and not being afraid to tell them it don't qualify as being a nice person in some people's books. Now, at this stage I had to choose in following Earl's example in trying to rectify all the things I've done wrong. I gave this some serious thought, but in the end realised if it's taken 23 years for this catch up to me I should be fine for the next 23.

I did manage to bump into a couple of girls one night - didn't think you'd believe me so I got their autograph the morning after.



Screw Karma.

Monday...




There is something so hot about this girl and I can't really put my finger on it. However I would love to...

Most IMPORTANT Rugby News...

I find it fitting that we should update you with the MOST important rugby news for this weekend. Since you're mostly South African it will have to be the news that is most important to you! Yes boys and girls. The Springboks have a new cap this weekend v Samoa...

Sorry, I know you smoked Waylon Murray in matric Dutton but at least you've nearly (well kind of) got a degree and he has only achieved his national colours since school. However, we must remain mindful of the fact that you are the incumbent numer 10 for the Eagles..! You are walking in the corridors of greatest son, where a few rockstars have passed before you...

Friday girl..?

Don't get your excitement neurons all in a tussle just yet! No we are not considering doubling up on monday girl action (although we thoroughly condone double action) and entertaining you with a Friday girl now to keep you occupied over the weekend. We feel if you want a girl for the weekend, go get her yourself.

Instead we're jumping on the media bandwagon and associating ourselves with the hype around this year contender for the ladies title at Roland Garros. The jury is out on this girl as we are still undecided.


Is Ana hot?

Repulika Hrvatska (Croatia)

As world weary as I am - I am nothing if not selfless. As such tomorrow I will (against my will) board a plane to Croatia. I tend to lump anything even vaguely East European in a basket carrying war, moustaches, really bad accents and blueberry muffins.

I have been assured by my Corporate Account, Gold Card weilding abductors that this is what I can expect on "my" luxury yacht.



And this.



We shall see. We. Shall. See.

Cops, robbers, cowboys and indians...

I find the distinction between fiction and reality has become increasingly blurred as with every day that passes I enjoy the latter less than the former. Alas, if only we could live our lives on linear timelines instead of this frog hopping from one time in the future to the present and back. I am not sure if that is a reality or not but whether you grasp my fictional tale or not, is!

I am presently mindful of this untrue reality as sure as one can believe a false fiction, since only yesterday one of our rockstar affiliates was forced into a life threatening situation.

Back in town for the equally life threatening situation of having to write the CFA exam, Thurston found room and bored (intended) in a lovely upmarket palatial palace set in the lush urban greenery of the lower rondebosch projects.

After successfully warding off the mortal certainty of CFA he has little else to do so passes his time by acquiring equally fatal hangovers and attempting to overcome those. No stranger to a death bed it seems fitting that the house he was residing in was under a current spate of lethal criminal activity. But underage non-consentual sex, shebeen-esque bootlegging and tik den fostering aside there was also a neighbourhood housebreaker on the prowl.

Our local perpetrator was a demonic cross between the nightfox and jack the ripper; a station strangler cousin of sorts, and his knife weilding escapades had been confronted twice in 3 days and were presumably linked to numerous schedule 1 offences.

On yesterday's fateful day the shadow of this man passed a bedroom window and the house mates were mobilized into action. Our hero, Thurston, unfortunately was too far down the digsmate hierarchy to lay first claim to weaponary from the digs arsenal and had to watch as the pepper spray and baseball bat were entrusted to digs captain and fearless leader Brad Chase. Since number 2 was in an exam his slightly build female cousin was ordained the protector of the fort and armed with her internal league hockey stick.

This left Thurston drowning in the shallow end of the weaponary box which could only muster a thickish wire coathanger as protection.

The Chase ensued:

Not restricted by fear, concern or brain power digs captain and fearless leader Brad Chase led the counter attack around the front of the house. Thurston and his trusty noisy cricket coathanger would be Shaka's bullhorn that would out flank the assailant from the back of the abode. Young slender female cousin would keep goal.

Digs captain and fearless leader Brad Chase's gusto fuelled malevolent battle cry spooked our not so friendly neighbourhood thief and he accelerated around the corners of the house like Alonso around the streets ofMonaco. Our unarmed Thurston was the finish line.

The old adage to never bring a knife to a gunfight is built on sensibility and foreseeable consequences, hence it can be extended to never bring a coathanger to a knife duel. On realising his error Thurston fled (fight or flight is not inherent as sometimes it is common sense). Thurston fled and Mack the knife pursued.

Mack cornered Thurston between the refuse bins and the locked garage door whilst the negihbours watched in horror from their patio. Defenceless against the 15inches of Hattaori Hanzo steel Thurston gulped in anticipation of digs captain and fearless leader Brad Chase to turn his battle cry into action and come charging around the corner to his rescue.

He was no where to be seen...

Instead the faithful slender built female cousin of digsmate no 2 came brandishing her compisite Gryphon astropole and fought off the blade carrying attacker.

Moral of the story: When you are staring death in the eye and you can do little through self agency to help you look in the little places for help and not in the big ones.

Epilogue: As it turned out digs captain and fearless leader Brad Chase was unable to save our brave Thurston as after he let out his boorish battlecry he let off a two second cloud of pepper spray as a sign he meant business but alas directed it straight into his own running path from which it was too late for him to steer away. Whilst slender hockey girl saved Thurston's life digs captain and fearless leader Brad Chase was left staggering around under the mulberry tree wiping a murky film of reality liquid from his eyes...

Venezuelan Monday ...

I have it on good authority that Venezuela is where I'm going to be taking my next vacation. With the cheapest plastic surgery in the world, more Miss World titles than any other country and an unfair ratio of women to men (60:40) what's not to love. On that note, please welcome Miss Venezuela 2006 - Federica Gúzman, who somehow managed to win Miss World Beach Body 2006. God knows how.



See you in Venezuela. Apparently there's pretty good beaches too.

Docking...


One of the beauty's of Europe is that it is the size of your average African dictatorship. Ahem, country. This lack of size, combined with an openess that would not be out of place in Fishhoek high school, makes air travel pretty easy.

Or should do. Luckily, it weighs in at a fairly reasonable price. Of course, I could probably save a few hundred orphans for the cost of a jaunt in Croatia, but what's in that for me. Unless, I were to tell girls about it to get laid. Which I'll probably do regardless - so let's stick with the travel plans.

Now. Air travel. On the cheap. Not too bad you're thinking. Of course it means having to give up airline food (more's the pity) and suffering possible DVT due to my knees being forced up around my ears in the standard 12inch seats. All this I'd be okay with.



But one thing I cannot abide by is the poor attempt at humour. Why, oh why, do they insist on making the same retarded jokes about redistributing your possessions amongst the crew if you leave them behind, about throwing smokers off the plane in mid-air, and about crash landings. Is there anyone else who thinks that every single one of these "cabin crew" are nothing more than failed actors who think my flying pleasure is nothing more than a goddamn stage?

Oh, and while I'm on the subject why is it that I have never seen a good looking air hostess? Outside of the movies, and South America - where all the women look like they do in movies. Hot.