Stage by Stage...

As with most things in life falling head over heels in love with a stripper doesn't just happen. No no fools, before you rush in and believe that 'love at first sight crap', you must remember that it doesn't apply to ladies that earn their wares by taking off their underwear. Falling for a pole dancer is like a quadruped moving forward, it involves 4 steps.

Lucky for you who is perched in the lotus position in the hotspot of the local Mug & Bean surfing the net that you have stumbled upon the very site that will reveal these, first to be documented, 4 steps. You see apart from being incredibly well educated, groomed, hung, spoken and read we here at Rockstar Journals are also extremely well traveled...

To find out and study this love phenomenon I had to travel deep into South East Asia so I could first hand witness the goings on at the very coal face of the art that is table-top gyration. Yes I did come back with other interesting tit bits like how pathetic anyone in Africa doing Muay Thai is cause there are some Thai boxing students that aren't old enough to cross the road alone that will whip your glam-fighting ass like you are the Springboks in Brisbane and never wash kao pad moo down with cheap beer but you don't want to hear that. Lean in closer for the real stuff!


Step 1: You stride into the dimly lit smoky room battling to hold your breath and the urge to display a frantic display of end zone fist pumping. [I am no Waldon Pyre, so writing it how I saw it. Bear with me here, plus keep those fists ready cause you can unleash the sky boxing shortly] You get ushered to your comfy perch in the amphitheatre seating by the brutish mama san's torch and before your gluts have hit the vinyl a bitterly cold green bottle is thrust into your hand and the condensation drips down your sweaty grip. You motion the Heineken rim to your lips and as you lift your head back to let the ice cold liquid make love to your dust coated tonsils, your eyes draw level to the stage and the sight of her hits you harder than tonight's kao pad moo.

Step 2: So step 1 is similar to love at first sight, but here is where it changes. Before you is a meat marker of girls dancing shoulder to shoulder wearing very little but lace and leather. They’re like the All Blacks defense at ruck time except pretty, and wearing less. A lot prettier and a lot less. In amongst the stage full of clones stands out one that is so superior to the rest you don’t notice the others. You force a smile from your frozen body and from behind her dark brown eyes slides a sneaky wink, a graceful hair toss and just like that she is gone…

Step 3: She pops up next to you like Tyler Durden, where did she come from? In the following 10 minutes you have bought her a shot glass of fanta that cost 4 times the Heinekens you keep getting handed and after a conversation in broken English she has firmly wrapped your heart around her little finger. Quick as her ninja powers allow she is gone from your side and back on stage gyrating to the somewhat inappropriate melody of Fat Bottomed Girls.

Step 4: This is where your head orbits your heels quicker than a Bangkok taxi weaves through traffic! You wake up and beat down your hangover with questions that are unfortunately synonymous with falling in love with a stripper. Why is such a nice girl in such a horrible place? Surely she can find an easier way to pay for university? She is so good for someone who has only done it for 3 weeks? I can’t believe she was so into me and paid such good attention to me? I wonder if she will let me pay for her studies? I wonder if she wants to come study back home? Should I ask her when I go back tonight?

Such is life. And such is falling in love with a stripper…

Turf wars...

Do you have one of those friends in your little pseudo clickie group that takes huge pleasure in finding opportunities where he is better versed on a topic than the rest of you and makes outrageous diversions from the truth to 'wow the crowd' with his superior knowledge because he knows you know just as little as he does on the topic so you won't call him on the validity of his recklessness statements? [fuckin long question I know but 'long' is a theme here at RSLJ]

You know what I mean though? The guy who goes sightseeing in Dordrecht with his parents over the holidays and comes back saying shit like 'the average girl in Dordrecht is so hot she makes Minki look like that Zuraide Jardine'! He is the authority on the subject so you can't accuse him on talking crap. Anyway, we in the pseudo online enthusiast group have a friend like that! And he throws around 'facts' with such abandon he makes a Stephan Glass article looks like the Gospel of Job.

Well stand down big guy. I am calling it. We have a policy here of non-disclosure. It keeps us on the moral high ground and purveys qualities that women find attractive like loyalty and integrity. Good thing my looks surpass my other qualities sufficiently to let it slip that the site I talk of has something to do with 'dual large expanses of salt water.com'. [For our readership that falls into the 'I am not smart but can lift heavy things' category think; it rhymes with 2motionstribe]

They posted an article at the end of July advocating (and advertising) very possibly the best breakfast place in Cape Town. We are pissed off that attention has so brazenly been brought upon the place as the number of patrons is heavily affecting the once subdued and private atmosphere and slowing the food queue down even more.

Lucky for the loud mouth braggart that let the cat out the bag that it was very recently disbanded as the RSLJ Sunday morning breakfast headquarters (the bat cave is now complete so we went home) otherwise we would be placarding outside his camps bay flat with Hezbollah style tactics and paying Mavis persuadingly to urinate in his balsamic vinegar.

To correct the two factual inadequacies of the article: The initial launch price of the early bird breakfast was not a few months ago but closer to 2 years ago now and there aren't four hosts, just two. Mike and Phil are possibly the best guys in the business but to a little fellow we can understand that there appeared to be 4 of them.

Moving along. Now that the secret is out the bag I'll give you the truth about Arnolds. It was the best kept secret Town had to offer. The service was friendly but tired. On the Roy Ferguson service rating guide they got a shocking 4 out of 10. They go through waitrons like Jake White goes through flyhalves. However what they lack in common sense, aesthetic appeal and efficiency they make up for in their pleasant and laid back demeanor.

The food actually comes out incredibly slowly and you can't make variations to the standard form but you've seen the Amstel Theory. Excellence is worth waiting for, and the man in charge of the spatula knows how to make an egg. As breakfast experiences go, it doesn't get better. Just now we might have to wait longer for a table.

Actually, whom I kidding, we get table preference whenever we go. You should have listened to Robbie Williams when he said the beauty about Cape Town is very few people know about it! Next time we'll remove those tortoise shell channels and shoot egg in your face, from a Lebanese barrel.

Girl on the street...

Now I know we have Monday girl to brighten up our week and turn those Monday blues into red hot passion but I feel this young lady is worthy of publication. Hell, "Girl on the Street" may even become a regular feature. A friend of mine who is currently strengthening diplomatic ties in Fort Lauderdale in the US spotted her as he stepped out of the office to grab some lunch. He says he grabbed a camera from the car and a few minutes later he was 3 blocks away with a full camera and an empty stomach. Personally, I'd go hungry. In fact, I'd go on a hunger strike for her... Join me friends

God bless Italia...

I have suddenly realised that we here at the Rockstar Journals had very little to say about the FIFA World Cup. In fact, we had nothing to say about it. Our apologies. We consider ourselves sports fans and up to date with world news so how did this occur. In truth, ordinarily I couldn't give a damn who won the world cup. Football is a game that is too long with too little scoring and it depends as much on the players acting abilities as on their actual sporting talent. When I see a poncy, long-haired "athlete" take a dive and proceed to writhe around on the floor as though his leg has been dislocated and then popped back into socket, crushing a stray testicle and causing him to scream so long and hard that he tears his vocal chords, I feel ashamed to be watching. I wish that upon you oh football loser so that you may know the feeling and then stop pretending. Despite this, I had taken a particular shining to the Italian side. They have a certain rockstarish vibe and appeal about them. Forza Azzuri.

But this is not the main reason I like Italy. I have had the good fortune of travelling to the country and it truly is an amazing place. The architecture, the people, the food... And Rome was the centre of one of the most powerful empires the world has ever known...R.E.S.P.E.C.T.

I recently got my first job (not including this one although you can hardly call being an idol to many a job) in four and a half years doing promotions for Peroni, SABMiller's new Italian beer. Peroni (girls) go(es) down smooth.

I am a convert. It is good. It is very good. I was also required to learn a few Italian words and phrases so I could walk around in a white suit, smiling charmingly and saying things like Ciao bella (hello beautiful) to the kind of girls who drink a 5.1% alcohol premium lager. Ie not supermodels and girls like my next and final reason for liking Italy....Ladies and gentlemen I give you Elisabetta Canalis...

Bellissimo

Hoot if it's Monday...


This is from the recent Hooter's swimwear pagent. I can't remember why I liked hooters so much? Was it the big plasma screens, hot wings or beer?

Go to www.popholic.com to check out the rest of the menu.

Supersonic speed...

Duncan Hugh "Mac 1" McLarty turns 23 today and it couldn't have happened to a nicer fellow. I have had the great honour of living with the man of the moment for two years in 2003 and 2004 during which time I was privy to Mac 1 at his finest. Duncan is a jack of all trades...Chef (he worked at the Cape Grace you know), game ranger, freakishly large rodent hunter, comedian and fridge whisperer are just a few of the fields in which he displays talent. Despite being with the times, the boy is also a fan of the classics and his music collection is peppered with such legends as Billy Joel and Bob Seger. Just don't ask him to try and remember the words whilst standing on a table at a 21st. As I write, I suspect he has drunk himself devoid of basic motor functions as he has orchestrated a skop at the residence affectionately referred to as Wonderland. Congrats Mac and here's to many more...

Spare a thought or 10...

Shit day? Another traffic fine in the post? Run out of filter coffee and had to have instant? Jerk cut you off in traffic? Fucker steal your favorite parking spot at gym? That loud nasal bitch radio DJ seem to be playing Paris Hilton's song on repeat? Your boss catch you jacking off in the work toilets? She didn't have the decency to give a helping hand? Come home to a realise you locked the maid out? Power cut during CSI? Ugly neighbour had a screaming threesome allnighter that kept you awake?

Okay so you had a crap 24hours. Tomorrow must be better! Hell, your future must look brighter right? Imagine if you future looked utterly crap...

Meet Luke McAllister. (stage directions: enter 6 foot 90 kg rugby god of maori desent)


Luke is possibly the most talented young rugby player around with the potential to be huge. Problem: Um...Daniel Carter. McAllister's future is very simple and it involves a lot of wood. Ruebens Barrichello had to play ferrarri second fiddle to Michael Schumacher but he drove. Imagine waking up everyday knowing you are good enough but you were born too early. That sucks.

Monday in full swing...

The Open Championship is understandably the most prestigious golfing tournament in Europe but to win her as a prize is pretty insane. Then again having a fan paint stripes on their pet pooch so it looks like a tiger is pretty insane too.

The Clash…

The media have more ammunition than Hezbollah building into this weekend Trinations encounter. The Springboks made strong motivation last weekend to rename the competition the Binations, whilst All Black coach Graham Henry choose the Bok result as a further reason to implement his ‘crazy scientist stroke gifted genius’ plan of player rotation making 8 changes to his victorious side.


Whilst I was reading all these off field factors that play interesting roles in the build up on the internet, the screen clouded over and celestial beings transported the Creator’s son to foreground and this is what Dan had to say:

"They have a lot of pride in their forwards and they have extremely good set pieces," Carter told the Supersport website.
"But at times they have no Plan B. When they're under pressure, they don't adjust to what's in front of them."
While the Boks will be keen to bounce back from last week's disaster in Brisbane and are determined to get the ascendancy up front, Carter feels there are other ways of beating the rush-defence.
"Things happen a lot quicker against the rush defence, but it can lead to opportunities in other areas. We definitely learnt a lot from the loss at Newlands last year," he said.
"You need to give yourselves a bit more space against a rush defence and the first-five [No.10] can do that by creating more depth for the rest of the backline.
"We've got plenty of skill out wide and the important thing is to realise if there's space out there."

This has got to be some of the most coherent stuff I have ever heard someone state in regard to SA rugby. I seriously doubt that those in the position to change these shortfalls are going to heed Danny’s warning.

And whilst we are in the area of rugby:

Big Wendell got his 2 year ban from rugby union after being found guilty by his tribunal. I don’t understand why he doesn’t get criminal charges against him but this could just be because he does live in a country sized prison anyway. Apparently there was controversy over his conviction because the prosecutors had little evidence to convict him but he arrived dressed like this, which means he must be doing coke…

This guy came up and asked if I wanted to buy a few grams, and I was like sorry bro but can you sign my 'tahs jersey..!

Going Dutch...

Nowadays it is not too uncommon to hear of some pretty, what we like to prefer to as, fucked up shit. England winning the 2003 RWC set a bench mark off some sort and since then the 'fuckedupshitometer' has incrementally increased to a point where if say you read in a gossip magazine that a once famous, albeit short, actor publicly committed himself to a bizarre extraterrestrial religion and swore that he would devour the placenta of his firth born child and name it after a curry powder you would glance through the article and skip straight to the red carpet shots of Petra Nemcova.

Any weird antics up until now pale in significance when you here this story from the Guardian newspaper.

"The Netherlands cemented its reputation as Europe's most socially liberal country yesterday when a new political party formed by paedophiles was told it could contest this year's general election.

The Brotherly Love, Freedom and Diversity party (PNVD), which wants to cut the age of consent from 16 to 12 and to legalize child pornography.

The new party wants to legalize the possession of child pornography and to allow pornography to be shown on daytime television. Sex with animals would also be allowed by the party, although abuse of animals would remain illegal."

Crumbs this is ridiculous. I can find myself accepting the idea of allowing pornography on daytime TV, and would probably turn a blind eye if someone prefers sheep to women (it would certainly increase the number of Aussie tourists come trinations time) but to actively lobby to drop the age of consent to 12 is some other kind of fucked up.

But wait there is more: "The new party, which was formed in May, pledged to intensify its campaign to remove the taboo on pedophilia which, it claims, has worsened in the past decade after the arrest of the notorious Belgian pedophile Marc Dutroux."

Well thanks very much Marc you prick. You got caught now everyone sees us pedophiles in a bad light. Come on sport. You are not towing the line here. Oh wait weren't you sentenced for the kidnapping and imprisonment of two young girls that you starved to death! Shame on you, giving us nice men with sweeties a bad name.

------------------------------Giving sex offenders a bad name!

I reckon George W could pass world legislation (he can do that you know!) that everyone must convert to Islam and pilgrimage to Mecca and the PNVD would still win the more Fucked Up award!

Rockstar Roy...

Some things in life ought to be celebrated more often than they are. This applies mainly to the annual celebration we bestow on an immeasurable variety of things. However then there are those rockstarish things that just when you are in the presence you feel like you are celebrating them, cause well, they are such so damn rockstarish...

If rockstars were cars Roy Patrick would be Henry Ford. He designed the prototype and made it work. He pioneered rockstardom like Yuri Gagarin pioneered space travel. He took it to new levels and hasn't stopped. He doesn't break records, he sets them! And he has been doing so for 23 years today.

------------------What don't you understand by pound-for-pound son?
Not only is this pseudo-frenchman the pound-for-pound strongest man in Cape Town he is also a budding accountant and celebrated rugby talent. In between walking the ramps of Milan, carving the defences of Stellenbosch and Clifton, throwing girls pies from moving cars, high-fiving the bouncers of plett, ordering 20 bottle beer rounds at bars, making girls disregard their incumbent white horses for him and taking his clothes off, he is just that nice boy next from Wonderland, and the rockstar we celebrate all year round...

Happy birthday Ferg.

Another cold cold cold rush…!

Don’t you just love SA rugby? I think it is fantastic. DSTV should use its plethora of vacant channels to dedicate one purely to the intriguing, captivating, bizarre and hilarious saga that is SA rugby. Only problem is it’ll be funnier than the Dave Chappelle show so probably shouldn’t be found around the vicinity of channel 28.

---------------------------------------What's the rush?
You have to agree that the most common trend in our rugby-phile nation is that everyone has an opinion on that state of the national rugby team. So here is mine. Has anyone noticed how they are all so very different?

A synopsis of the knee jerk reactions to the Brisbane Slaughter looks like this:
- Jake White: Honiss had a shocker and was the reason I rush-defense failed.
- The Rapport headline: Jake must go!
- Divan Serfontein: The faster White resigns, the better.
- Frik Du Preez: Blame the coach! If I was Jake White I would resign.
- Burger Geldenhuys: Firing the coach now, won’t change the immediate situation.
- Paul Honiss: Who am I the scapegoat for this week?

Thankfully the voice of reason belonged to Nick Mallet who rightfully slated White’s pre-game antics of trying to lengthen his post-RWC contract by bluffing the media into speculating he might have stood a chance against Sir Clive Woodward to claim the directing position in England.
Mallet also frankly hit the nail on the head regarding the reasons for the hammering citing, no openside flanker, an underperforming flyhalf and fielding inexperienced players in key positions in a major game.

White had a tactical shocker and his preparation was abysmal. Hopefully now he will abandon this rush defense bullshit, finally admit he needs a fetcher and concede that Jaco has underperformed at 10 and warrants a change.

The whole reason rush D can work (and I am paraphrasing its master mind Gary Gold) is your line rush up from the outside then moving in on the attacking player making a spot tackle on him, in his blind-spot. Key elements? Rush, blind-spot, tackle! So it isn’t working cause key elements 2 and 3 aren’t happening; they know you coming from their blind-spot so the element of surprise is nullified and the players aren’t making the tackle. Think Habana getting shrugged off by Giteau on his way to score his 2 try!

So for all White’s faults and cock-ups in the last 5 games is it still worth firing a coach when a World Cup that is only 11 months away? The level of retardation needed to answer yes to that question is higher than the average I-eat-with-a-cork-on-my-fork yardstick. White has been extremely successful up until these last 2 months. Replacing the coach now would be suicide. The rugby equivalent of Vince Lombardi couldn't mould a side in that short a time even if you gave him Dan Carter for fun, yet all these ‘ex-players’ are baying for his head!

SA rugby is fickle and still has the mind set that changing a coach solves problems. The ‘fire the coach’ attitude is as worthwhile as blaming a loss on the ref, and that might be why I support the All Blacks.

Shut the gates, see you on channel 21!

Monday...


I have been so tardy in the past weeks at actually making this post on time that my punctuality this week should be rewarded. For instance I should be reincarnated as the pole in the background of the picture...

A cold rush of blood to the head..?

I hate leaving the country. My penchant for staying at home isn’t linked to my burning trait of xenophobia or that I home-sickly miss having to chain my car to a tree every time I park outside Forries, instead I prefer not leaving my little country because outside of it you aren’t exposed to the same type of journalistic flair that our media possesses.


The media in other countries is subject to rigorous restraints that our media has proven are unnecessary limitations on trying to fill blank newspaper pages with print. Impeding constraints like fact checking, source citing, editing and well, the truth, stop many a world class article from hitting the desk in front of you.

I am not suggesting that all articles are lies or even complete lies. After all, the best lie is 60% true and 40% false. (okay my percentages may not be entirely correct but that is the beauty of it because you believed it even though they aren’t, and besides 93% of statistics are made up on the spot anyway)

In finding a way to keep in touch with our local media I stumbled on the e-versions of my favorite black and white fabrication pages, and the Cape Argus had this beauty for me this morning:

'MTV's satellite music channel has applied for permission to stage a one-off "unplugged" concert in the famous Cango Caves - starring Coldplay.'

Awesome! Stand down Robbie Williams. Chris Martin belting out ballads echoing off Precambrian limestone is music to my ears. They reckon the 800 seating venue of the Van Zyl Hall will be broadcast to 900 million viewers world wide and stand the Oudtshoorn municipality in line for around $2 million.

I love it. Our media is quicker onto to a story than a Bangkok fake DVD street tout is onto your wrist, and I can vouch to say that is pretty damn quick. It should be catch phrased 'the Chilliboy phenomenon'. When something or someone has the slightest inkling of potential thrust them straight to the top before they can say 'coldplay in the caves'.

I wish I could be a fly on the wall of the ANC headquarters administration block right now watching the applications stream in for political positions in the little Karoo.

Asia Time...


I think the subtle reference in the title to the widely used term 'africa time' is so subtle it could be construed as an exceptionally clever, and funny, play on words to hide my deep embarrassment at failing to produce a monday girl on monday. Or maybe this is just an excuse to add text to a post. Nevermind, give me a break, Thailand is 5 days (okay it could be hours but that rumour is unconfirmed) different to SA time...

Year of the Tiger...

No, no you silly little blonde second year girl sitting in Cape Town I am not referring to the opening of the club in Claremont but rather to what is surely the greatest event on the Durban social calendar, the Vodacom Durban July or as it is more affectionately known by those that love it the most... The VDJ or Jooly.

I have been charged with the great honour of being the Rockstar Journals official VDJ correspondent. This years main race was won by Eyeofthetiger, who for the record is the horse I would've put my money on if I hadn't had that bad experience last year when my R100 broke its leg and was unceremoniously shot on the track. In actual fact I didn't even see a horse all day other than on the big screen.

The event was a more elegant affair this year as we weren't dropped off by a sheep bakkie and I resisted the temptation to compete in the 13th race after victory (and a R500 Tiger Tiger bar tab) was snatched from under my nose a year ago.

In many ways though the Jooly stuck to its winning formula with the combination of fashion, gambling, and partying. After the obligatory milling around and finding my feet I headed off to buy my tickets for the afterparty at the tilt tent. Despite a queue that would rival that of a rockstar kissing booth, it turned out to be worth it. Next we headed up to a box and stocked up on some food and a few beers before a quick little stop in at the steward's lounge where I was a good 40 years below the average age. Then it was back to Tilt to meet up with the boys and see out the rest of the night. Despite the fact that most people I spoke to seem to have gone down in the betting stakes, a good time was had by all. I do however have a few good and bad ideas for the punters.

It is a good idea for girls to get all dressed up and the day definitely plays host to some of the most beautiful women the country has to offer. It is a bad idea to attempt to dress up like a beautiful woman and make a complete tit out of yourself because you are in fact a 6ft5 orange haired quasimodo.

It is a good idea for you and your partner to both look stylish. It is a bad idea for you and your partner to wear the same thing particularly when it is a disgusting outfit on its own.

It is a good idea to decide on a good afterparty venue such as the Tilt tent and later in the evening order a double Bacardi and Coke. It is a bad idea for a Tilt tent barman to run out of most drinks and attempt to dupe you into drinking a double water and Coke and accepting a R10 tip only to be discovered as a fraud when you lean over the bar and drink from the bottle while his back is turned. It is also a bad idea to have a wobbly section of the bar that falls over half way through the night.

It is a good idea to file through the entrance in an orderly fashion. It is a bad idea to lose your temper and punch the organiser and as a result be escourted to a secret room by bakkies botha and os du randt's twin brothers.

It is a good idea to be civil and possibly even friendly to your ex-girlfriend. It is a bad idea to go home with her sister (even if you end up sleeping on the couch) and then leave your cellphone out in the open where the aforementioned ex can find it in the morning and read smses from other girls, causing her to fly into a jealous rage, shake you awake and literally kick you out of the house.

As I said, a good time was had by all. Ascot will be a poor substitute next year.

Ah civilisation...

I have returned to civilisation although only just as Maritzburg wont be making any best city lists unless you enjoy being on the brink of dying of boredom, confusing street name changes and more recently an outbreak of killer flu which according to the Natal Witness is "now also striking down the healthy." Of course it is you simpletons. That's what getting sick means.

The Transkei was a magical time. There was summer heat, great food and fun company which made the fact that we broke our generator on the first day and our shower on the second worth it.

With cottage bedrooms named "The Pump Room" and "The Cock Box," one can only imagine what debauchery has occurred there but it truly was a magical place. Days were filled with a Survivor-esque challenge between two tribes which included eating competitions, beach golf and balancing on a log whilst having cow dung thrown at you. I can assure you that this was not my idea...

Monday HK…

This is a unique opportunity for you the reader to enjoy our first Monday girl from Hong Kong! No, she is not from this Hong Kong and no you aren’t in HK enjoying her (at least I think not) but she is been sent to you from the Samsung internet centre at HK International Airport’s departure lounge.

We’re specifically using Miss Lima here to entertain your Monday as a gesture of commiseration to the Brazilian football team and all their supporters. It was a shame to watch them bow out of the World Cup although it was more like Zidane bent them over like a cheap hooker.

However any people that were backing Brazil from South Africa can find solace in the knowing that another era came to an end over the weekend. Zuraida Jardine played her last show (please let it be for a friggan long time) as a DJ on 5fm. There was more chance of an England penalty taker finding the back of the net than finding an inkling of remorseful in the ears of any 5fm listener with half a peanut for a brain. Lovely!

I would stick around longer but there is this irate communist fellow with a baton, neon yellow armband and funny hat behind me eye-balling my expressive use of Adriana on the computer screen. Sorry Chairman, I’ll be done as soon as I google democracy…

[Just realised this has been posted on Tuesday but give me a break. I left Cape Town on a Monday and haven't slept. As soon as I sleep I will consider it Tuesday]

Celebrity Daisy Match...

We all love a bit of competition right? Well how about a showdown to see who can don the sexy short skirt and kick ass cowboy boots to be Miss Daisy Duke in the Dukes of Hazzard sequel?

The two contenders are:

The incumbent Miss Jessica Simpson

The challenger Miss April Scott

Before you get out your voting buttons, know that the competition is moot since Miss April Scott is already the winner and has replaced Simpson. This isn't life changin news but it might change how you spend the next 5 minutes of it...

You saw it here first...


Are those UCT rugby socks???

RSLJ Article 11: It’s over...

It is said that even Satan can find quotes in the Bible to give impetus to his arguments and I suppose the same applies to songs. You can easily scroll through the playlist on your ipod for ten minutes and find lyrics that will support your position in regard to any argument. It is from the adroit lyrics of Sugarcult that I find impetus for this article.

“Look around if you ever miss me, look around cause it kills me, its over there is nothing you can do, there is nothing you can say to keep me here, its over. To say we are just friends, we’re playing pretend, to keep me here.”

Most things relating to relationships are difficult to communicate to your partner, however it is more difficult to communicate those things that don’t want to be heard. This is why I advocate that in future when tasked with ending the relationship you should employ Sugarcult to assist you in getting the job done. Of course blearing it from your car stereo from the road beneath her bedroom balcony isn’t exactly any better than say smsing her the lyrics or say mms-ing her a video of her best friend giving you a lap dance to the tune; so I think it is best you decide how it should be done.

[A good friend of ours, Boyd, who happens to be considered a bit of a guru holy man in regard to relationship once quoted that ‘if you lead with we’re talking past each other she doesn’t stand a chance’ so probably try that]

However getting the job of breaking it off done is not the hard part. The hard part is dealing with the “ex” for the rest of your life. Exes come in varying degrees of severity and it is worthwhile to evaluate these degrees. If you wondering why its worthwhile to evaluate these? It is so that when we have to call Grissom from the crime lab to identify your charred remains we can tell your parents we ‘told him so’…

Before we get into these 5 degrees it is important to note most ex-girlfriends settle into one of these categories but they all start out in degree 1 and follow the incremental phases until they reach the degree she settle in. So if she doesn’t progress past 1 she is the low-key harmless version but if she progresses all the way to the end we have a stage 5 clinger psycho she-bitch.

Degree 1: This is the recently broken up with girl or the one that gets over you the most. She is characterised by being excessively emotional (that’s excessively more than she usually is) and she will without fail try her best to dissuade you from implementing your decision by crying excessively, screaming excessively, apologising excessively and then crying again. Please understand she knows no concept of the term excessive! Since she has no reason to hate you besides the fact that you want to break up she doesn’t really have a reason to get over you. Suggestion: Give her one! Either fabricate a story about how you hooked up with another girl or better yet you do so.

Degree 2: Not far removed from Degree 1 this ‘ex’ shares the same excessive emotional outpourings but realises she has one tool to reignite the extinguished flame that existed between you; The sex card. After failing to convince you to stay she will then tempt you with ubiquitous offers of sexual gratuity including practices that were taboo when you were actually with her. If you held any suspicions during the term of your relationship that she was in fact a bit of a crackwhore this should confirm them. Suggestion: Gladly accept such sexual offerings and enjoy them to the fullest. Just before she then attempts to rekindle the flame use the same tactic you did with degree 1.

Degree 3: Be warned you are now entering into dangerous territory. This is where the emotional and desperate ex becomes bitter. After now believing your story that you hooked up with her best friend, (the confirmation of photos can be useful) and after been embarrassed by the sex card offering she is deeply bitter at losing you and her competitive streak kicks in. She pines to have you back just to prove that you should never have had the power to end it. These are the girls that will flirt/dance with/kiss or dry hump guys in full view of you. If such a girl has origins in Fishhoek she will even go as far to spread her dirty legs for the guy in the back of his Polo. She is doing this as a ploy to get you back my firing up your jealousy. Suggestion: Buy the lucky couple a round of drinks and throw the guy a high 5 as he passes you on the way out. Then proceed to court her best friend.

Degree 4: She is emotional. She is hurt. She is bitter. And now she is obsessive. It is this type of girl that Richard Branson introduced Virgin Mobile into the country for. Change your number and change it fast. If you have a land line disconnect it. She will show up at your door unannounced sporting the most random reason for popping by. She will sms you constantly and follow it up with why one asking why you won’t reply. You will then get a missed call off private number; she is confirming that your phone is on. She will send you messages meant for someone else just to trap you into replying. Beware she is resourceful and obsessive. She will sms to tell you she loves you still at 4am whilst drunk. She is drunk because she spent the night at home with a bottle of jack alternating between shots and sniffing the jersey of yours she never returned. Beware, this girl will befriend your next girlfriend and try push her under a treadmill at gym or something. Suggestion: Either get in touch with the guys at nip/tuck and consider your disguise options or phone Will Smith and see if that laser red thing that erases memory actually exists.

Degree 5: The stage 5 clinger is more dangerous than a wounded buffalo in a dense reed thicket: hurt, bitter, obsessed and pissed off. You broke her heart; she now wants to break your jaw. This is the reason restraining orders were invented. Thankfully she is easy to spot. She is the one on the CCTV security camera replay from last Saturday night sporting that very familiar blue hoodie (complete with Jack Daniels stains) that is seen deflating your tyres with a pitch fork, smashing your windscreen with a brick, removing and swapping the T and I on your GTi so you are Mr VW git and engraving on your bonnet in bright red spray paint ARSEHOLE. Suggestion: Thank ADT for their sterling work and send her pictures of you making out with her friends whilst she spends the next 2 to 4 years in prison.

Rockstar of the Moment...

Ever wondered what those people on TV mean when they say "I'd hit that..!" whilst simultaneously clutching the crotch of their baggy jeans and moving the tip of their trucker ever so slightly more to the side?

Well we here at Rockstar Journals believe that you don't need to be sporting aforementioned baggy jeans or sideways trucker to put the phrase to use. You see our latest rockstar of the moment has drawn our attention to a different usage of the phrase.

Not since the valiant and plucky effort of the 'Lonely Finger' has anyone produced an effort so laudable that it warranted been bestowed with this honour until now. Yes, Richard Green you are our latest rockstar of the moment...

--------------------------------Richard's threesome.

If you happened to read the back page of Sunday's paper or spend more time on the internet than Ronaldo spends eating pies you'll know that Richie boy is world famous because he convinced his brainless girlfriend to enter into a 3 way carnal passion fest if he got 5 million hits on his website...

You guessed it. He got the 5 million and is currently on 7 419 139 and counting. If he gets to 15 million his 'missus' has committed to a foursome. His young lass the 21 year old Katie Greenwood who is famous in her own right as the girl who shagged Shane Warne.


Now Katie is not exactly the best looking lass on the planent and doesn't cut the high standard set by the RSLJ picture filtering committee, (although this time we'll let it slide) so Dickie doesn't get the award for any efforts in that department but he sure does for pulling the wool over her eyes long enough for him to 'hit' another a chick. Good work Dickie.

Check him out on www.pleasemakethiswork.com and once you've read this post, browse off this page and then click back on us. [we have our own reasons to up our hits...]

Catch 22 Monday...

I am definitely riding the "Go Ghana" craze right now since after all the Black Stars are representing our little continent at one of the biggest sporting events in the world. However my loyalty is divided as they square up against defending champions Brazil in Round 2.

I would love Ghana to be the under dog success story of Germany 2006 but Brazil is one of those teams that just about any neutral observer will support just cause they have such a history in the game and bring so much to the game. They birng their (rock)star players with their (rock)star skills, their flair, their entertaining approach and of course they bring this little angel...



Go Brazil!!!!