The Weekend Ahead...

Okay so I am not one of those people who hail from a garage in Silicon Valley, CA and can do things on computers that not even McGyvwer could do with a full tool box but give me a break. Where else are you going to find all this weekends rugby fixtures, the correct SA starting times and which DSTV channels they will be on?

I'm big in the subcontinent...

Everything is big in Dubai. The buildings, the camels, the reduced price shopping bins, the 7's rugby tournament, horse racing and trying to get an EU passport. However, everything in India is small besides the street vermin and dance routines in local movies.

So although it is an achievement making it big in Dubai, you're just one of many. However, make it big in a country filled with over a billion street kids and snakehandlers and you're so main you can park your flying carpet outside any club you want.

It is for this reason today we laud the efforts of a true Cape Town rockstar. Relocating from Jozi at the beginning of the year the man immediately made a massive impact along the strip of Camps Bay and the 10minute walk between Leslie and the chicken burger stand. Effortlessly gliding along the man turned heads in a way that had many a girl (and guy) booking pshysio appointments. And he is only getting better.

robert p 98! (as those who have seen his z-card know him) is probably the best looking guy I know. It's true, and I know what you thinking and I am flattered but come on; how really does one know himself! Anyway robert p 98! broke Dubai easily but now has conquered the subcontinent.

He is the face of the equivalent to Axe in India and for that he earns our chicken burger. So keep a look out for his ads in stores from New Delhi to Jaipur. But move quickly they will be stolen and removed by screaming fans in no time. After all, robert p 98! is more sought after by the babes of Bangalore than Herschel Gibbs was by the punjab police...

This is just a tribute: Leaving on a jet plane...

Whoever thought that Tenacious D and John Denver would combine their immortal lyrical powers to head up the title of a post on a world famous blogspot? I am sure they once considered it in their wildest dreams or in a Rolling Stone interview but it doesn't matter cause it has happened...

------The duchess en route to Colesberg, kinda like a jetplane. Only quicker...

The reason of this post is dualistic in nature. It breaks the hearts of many, and send butterflies through the heart of many many more. Do you remember that joyous feeling of disbelief that flooded you when you learnt that Corne Krige was retiring from rugby and leaving Cape Town? Well, this is the same except totally the opposite.

A hero, a legend...nay a rockstar, is leaving Cape Town today. Besides returning for an exam and 75 hours of passion next weekend, he is leaving indefinitely, and a big Docstar shaped hole will be left in the life of Cape Town.

The flipside is that this moment brings life and hope to millions of girls in Durban, Colorodo and London, in that order, before departing and filling the hearts of the girls strewn across the beaches and bars of Spains... I know this makes him sound like a spirit and you're right he probably is one, but don't fear he will never shirk his duties for this site.

Harsh and lonely...

Today has been the first day that I could sit down and aimlessly trawl the internet. It was a harsh realisation that I made when it dawned on me that althought my life has been at a stand still the world continued without me.


I didn't realise you all could cope without me. I understand when I am asleep Tyler looks after you but what about when I am away on special assignment and I have to close myself off from the real world. (okay I was only in the throws of hectic exams but when I write it like this it make me sound more like a 007)

Well never fear people. I am back, with the scars to prove it...

Monday Girl....


It is a pleasure...

The return...

A lot can happen in 20 months. However the qualification to this broad generalisation is that although 600 days is probably enough time to succeed in anything it is definitely enough time to fail, 600 days over.

Success and failure are like good and bad reputations. It takes ages to properly attain the prior yet you can wash it away in the drop of a hat, a ball, a place, a position, a wicket, a girl, a share price, a standard, a sms, a baby etc...

It is this theory that makes it so easy to go off the rails, but so hard to get back on. [especially if being off them is sooo good] Now that I have gained your undivided attention through such hard work I better get along with it before it drops off...


You see. This saturday sees the return of someone whose success broke the recently unveiled mould as it was close to meteoric. He extended the continuum of fucking with my theory and by spending a long time failing. [I am just going to call them unrelated pockets of individual failures than one big long one so as not to rebut my argument]

"Off-field controversies [fat girlfriends, controversial autobiographies and speeding fines can ruin a man] , injury, suspension and a loss of form over the last 20 months have all combined to keep Henson from fulfilling his true potential." That's a direct quote from www.planet-rugby.com. Well guess what, he is back and you better put down your study notes to witness his return at 16h30 on saturday against Australia.

It may just surpass the All Blacks turning out at Twickenham as the best thing to watch on TV this weekend...

Docking...

These people have to be stopped. Either their cars need to be impounded or their brains need to be reconfigured because what they are doing is pretty much hacking up the lives of many others.

It is trite traffic law that you do not, under any circumstance, cross a lighted intersection if you are not one hundred percent sure you will make it all the way clear through. Oh why you ask you dumbass inbred commuters? Very simply because if you don't make it across and you pathetic nissan micra gets stranded in the middle of the intersection you block a clear passage for perpendicular traffic when the light changes for them...

I would assume you think it is too your advantage to be stuck in the middle of everything like Ridge Forrester in a 3 way but come the fuck on! Staying on your side of the little white line until the next light change over is no different, except in the latter I am not tempted to drive the 'lady of ecstasy' on the hood of my car through your temple...

Weekly round-up...

Since I handed in my thesis last week and I only have one pathetically easy exam in the reasonably far off future, I have resumed my behaviour from the start of the year. Now with people either learning for exams or working as corporate sluts, you'd think I'd battle to find partners in crime but last weekend witnessed the descent of 3 of Durban's finest young gentlemen intent on discovering the best of what Cape Town has to offer. Who am I to shirk the reponsibility I felt towards chaperoning them.

Thursday was a typically filthy Tiger night which saw me waking up on a friends couch on Friday morning. A Caprice lunch sorted out my throbbing head and prepared us for the Brauhaus Oktoberfest at 6 that evening. Things got messy fairly quickly and we were soon dancing to a fake Robbie Wessels held back Leeuloop and instead delivered classics like "Play that Funky Music White Boy" during which he would insert his own lines. For example...
"Play that funky music white boy...I love it, Do you love it?" and
"Do a little dance, make a little love, get down tonight...Wikky wikky wah"
We finally made it out alive and moved on to Fiction and the Durbanites finally crawled home at half 6.

Saturday night started off with Talladega Nights, the new Will Ferrel movie which, from GH#12's posts below, you can see has more than just a few cheap laughs going for it. The next stop was Maverick's. Now without trying to sound like a dirty old man (I'm not old), I feel like I have some experience in the strip club scene. My first digs was nearly 20 metres from the Cape Town Teazers, we used to make regular birthday trips there and I have been to Maverick's during the day. So with this said, I think it is a pretty weighty comment that the collection of dancers at Maverick's on Saturday night was the hottest I have ever seen at a strip club. Congrats Maverick's. Docstar stamp of approval for you. We finally finished up at Miam (well technically it ended at the police station but the fun part ended at Miam) where I rediscovered my taste for Jack and lime. I'm so sorry I ever neglected you my darling..

I showed poor form by skipping Caprizi on Sunday night but we were all in need of some rest and relaxation. The bad influence left on a jet plane on Monday and I thought I was safe but I was wrong. In the words of Bryan Adams, "The best was yet to come." There was still one Cape Town based examless creature who accompanied me to the Tiger Halloween party on Tuesday night. After a somewhat slow start, things picked up very nicely and after running into a few familiar faces and a few shooters, a good time was had by all. At one moment I was floored by a tall, blowjob cut, blonde angel (literally, she was dressed as an angel) all in white. She was the perfect foil to my all in black vampire and after I found her loitering next to me on the dance floor I offered her a drink. "I don't drink much," she said sweetly, accompanied by harps and violins. In what i thought was a highly original move, I offered her a shot of water while I had my tequila which went down well but it soon became evident that she was a bit bland and wasn't fitting in with the vibe of our night. Pity

To finish off a great week, I went to the Whiskey festival at the ICC. I'm not the biggest whiskey drinker and there was a stage where I was thinking of pulling out but man am I glad I didn't. R120 gets you plenty of free drink vouchers and there are oysters, cheese and chocolate to taste and if you can sweet talk your way into a lounge like the Johnnie Walker Lounge or the J&B Jet Lounge (thank you), free food and drink is abundant. It also doesn't hurt to have a friends working at two of the stands. The promo girls were out of the top drawer (Jack Daniels and Glendower were personal favourites), there was live music by Coda and an all-round good vibe. The good news is, you still have a chance to go so do it.

Enjoy your exams while I do my thing. Mu ha ha

Talledega saturday nights: The ballard of Carly Pope

Fair enough anonymous. You spent saturday night at home learning instead of catching the new Will Ferrell movie. However that doesn't give you the authority to formulate a negative opinion about our monday girl. Go watch the flick. You come back saying that you think Leslie Bibb is still not hot and I'll entitle you to your opinion and then beat you like a red-headed stepchild...

I know sex appeal is hard to define and probably hard to translate onto a still image but you have to go check this girl out in a pit suit. Stop it.

Monday Racer...


I want to go fast! And I want to be a racecar driver. She only dates racecar drivers...

Rockstar of the moment...pah!

It is with great distain and bitterness that I pen this post, but it is my duty to get this out the way so I am just going to throw out the award.


My anger boils down to the fact that the worthy recipient is a guy I absolutely hate. He is everything I don't like in someone. However despite his horrible assemblage of misfortunate characteristics and the huge burden of having me hate him he still manages to pull something out the bag, something of rockstar magnitude!


The (I bite my tongue) right off that is Pete Doherty has taken his relationship with Kate Moss one step further and knocked the model up, and he has done it properly. Yes, it's true. You will see this week on the skilled purveyor of celebrity gossip, www.splattermail.org, that there is truth in the rumour. Basically it has been confirmed by Pete's uncle who just so happens to be the couples gardener. I think they meant hydroponic development expert but let's laugh off the details. However, I reserve the right to rescind this award if the uncle is lying...

It is interesting to note that since this article has been up on splattermail for nearly 24hours you will only have to wait another 24 to see the exact version copied in the Joey Miller column on the nadoes site. I love cheap shots...

Speak up man, you're through...!

I can understand the latent envy average folk harbour toward those of rockstarish disposition but I implore those people not to think it is all hot women, fast cars and great abs. Fair enough most of it is hot women, fast cars and great abs but there are also things like popular attraction and fame.


May I point out that these aren't necessarily good things. Especially in our country where people hand out celebrity status to people and events just because a royal son of another country attended them...attended the event and to the person!

These two voicemails and the phone conversation might assist in removing any doubt you have about this:

Voicemail 1: "Hey R (probably standing for rockstar). It is Philip here from the Steers Rugby Franchise. I urgently need to speak with you in regard this upcoming season so please phone me back on 083^%^%&)!"

Voicemail 2: (home phone this time) "Hi again Sir. (yes formalities go a further distance) I am again phoning in connection with rugby next year. It is Phil from Steers..."

The first message was garbled and I thought my brain made up the rugby part and it was just a Steers Franchise phoning me. In connection with what I have no clue. However, the second voicemail confirmed my rugby suspicion. Steers Rugby? Never heard of them so didn't return the call. Then I had this conversation this morning:

Phil: Hello Mr Henson.
GH#12: Yes hello.
Phil: Hi, it is Phil phoning again from Steers.

GH#12: [Good god who are the friggan Steers?] Go ahead Phil I'm all ears (and abs).
Phil: I understand you coach at (insert name of successful club rugby side) and I know you guys had a very successful season [told you] and basically I am short of a tight head prop for next year so was hoping you had one we could look at...for the Steers?

GH#12: That sounds fantastic Phil, but sorry, who the hell are the Steers?
Phil: We are a super 14 franchise based in the Eastern Cape...(very quizzical, and irate, tone)
GH#12: Ahhh...the Spears...! [echoed by the deafening sound of a million pin-sized spears dropping to the floor.]

It makes sense that SARFU don't want them to play on the international scene since their dude in charge of recruiting can't even say their name properly.

Incidentally, I spoke to all our props and they would've gone if it were in actual fact a steers franchise, so he shouldn't have bothered clearing up the confusion...

Summer at-tired…

Life’s little pleasures that are associated with the more regular occurrence of warm days as spring swiftly turns into summer are as plentiful as yellow umbrellas on Clifton 4. The sun comes up earlier, it goes down later, you no longer have to sport a jersey to campus and you no longer have to get drenched by cold rain and battered by strong winds.


The marvellous weather translates into other fantastic pleasures; like days spread eagled on hot squeaky sand, afternoon touch games, bitterly cold MGDs in bottles covered in perspiration and best of all skankily, I mean scantily, clad women lying next to you in the sand, admiring your touch skills or serving those millers.

Alas, as with everything in life, be they good or bad they have exact opposites. So for every fantastically good thing, there is a terribly bad thing. Kind of like how every good thing is this world has an equaliser. Think, a chicken burger and res food. Think, Nelson Mandela and Jacob Zuma. Think, beach-day Sundays and exam preparation. Think, that blonde girl on the stepper in gym, and her form-lacking boyfriend. Think, Richie Macaw and Luke Watson. Enough said…

Okay so what is wrong with an incredibly sexy belter bouncing along the campus promenade on a sweltering day sporting cute little shorty shorts exposing her long limber ‘please wrap those around my waist’ legs? In a word: nothing. As nothing is wrong with it specifically, but the evil equaliser to the shorts belter is her frumpy friend trudging along side her, budget role in one hand and cigarette in the other.

I understand how fashion is so important nowadays and Miranda Priestly taught me that the very average person wears a blue jumper from a sales bin because the devil wore turquoise prada last season but why? I repeat earnestly, BUT WHY? must a girl not built for skimpy shorts sport them just cause they are fashionable.

You see. Tight little shorts look good on a tight little ass because they show off the tight little ass. It would be the logical fallacy of presuming the antecedent to then infer that the ass looks tight and good because of the shorts! If you reading this wacky Wednesday please pay close attention. If you’re the type of girl that would only look hot in the awaiting trial cell at pollsmoor you shouldn’t be wearing any type of clothing designed to look taut on Kate Moss!

--------------------------------------------Taut!!!
However I am not only preaching my urgent plea here to the girls that are shaped like a Clifton 4 granadilla lollie! Cast your rockstar knowledge back to a superbly written article a while back (article 7) that dealt with the phenomenon of ‘cheating’. Well, average girls in risqué outfits that expose their averageness is the equivalent to anti-cheating.


You may have a respectable form and even a hot characteristic but show us the orange peel cellulite on your inner thigh whilst you’re trying to match your bouncing belter friend walk up jammie and we’re more inclined to tighten our core to holster the automatic vomit reflex than to lie you down and rub Nivea into your thighs. Which by the way, you should go home and do right now…

Federica vs the Chicken Roastery...

Given the option between Federica Fontana and Fontana Roastery after a big night out, we'd go with our Monday belter...

Light at the end of the tunnel...

Someone said to me the other day that they have a dud tunnel, one without a light at the end. This got me thinking that maybe many of the RockstarJournals' readers are feeling down. Whether its a giant workload, relationship issues, summer panic or some other form of stress getting you down, it is important to find something you are looking forward to and focus on that. For example, the light at the end of my tunnel looks a little something like this...













Ah yes. From November to March I will be living in Aspen. Now either come with me, find your own light or be very, very jealous.

I am stupid: Please explain...

I, like most people, come from the school of thought where excessive indulgences in life are acceptable, plausible, awesome and should never be knocked. However, this has come to my attention and it makes no sense.

Volkswagen have placed their esteemed GTI moniker onto their Polo model of cars. Originally it has only ever been on Golfs but now they have found cause to bestow the honour and the muscular performance that comes with it on the smaller Polo.

You wouldn't see me complaining if a gorgeous girl in a red bikini was partnered by her gorgeous little sister is the same bikini. (same kind of bikini although if it was the exact same bikini it would make for happier opening) Perpetuating this methaphor would you bitch if you invited Paris Hilton over for drinks and a shag and she brought Nicky with?

If you answered 'no' like I did then why am I bitching about GTIing a polo? Simply because you pay for a polo, you don't pay for a night with the Hiltons. But lets say for the sake of argument you did have to pay for the Hiltons.

If you could not afford sex with Paris, but could afford to pay for it with Nicky. (I fear I am alone in thinking Nicky is actually worth more so will assume here that Paris actually is) Would you prefer to spend your money on sex with Nicky or head, a striptease and a hand job from Paris?

You see the 2006 Polo GTI will have the 1.8-litre, four-cylinder, 20-valve, turbo/intercooler petrol engine already seen in other VW products that, in GTI guise, will be capable of 110kW, 229Nm, 0-100km/h in 8.2 sec and a top speed of 216km/h.

However, the Polo will go for R188700 wheres the Golf V GTI is around R250K, although optional extras can bump it above R300K. Whereas your 190K could probably get you a very decent Golf V 2.0 FSI?

Play it again Sam...

I opened my eyes on Saturday morning with great trepidation. You know when you're expecting a headache due to the previous evenings misbehaviour and try not to make any sudden movements. When my eyes focused I realised I was in a bed and I could see a hot body with long slender legs in a tiny little white skirt and a tight leopard print top. Oh God, did I cheat on my girlfriend I thought before realising that the body was in fact mine. I also realised I had charming comments such as "I have a big cock and I want to suck it" and "I suck cock for cock" scrawled all over me in permanent marker. Such is the aftermath of a Stellenbosch 21st which included the birthday boy acting out Robbie Wessels' "Leeuloop" (the new Vodacom advert for those of you who aren't educated in Afrikaans pop culture) and also left me with a red wine handprint stain on my cast.

So it was with great relief that after a Thursday night spent at the dirty Tiger and the filthy party in Stellenbosch on Friday, I found myself invited to a very civilised Jenni Button, Aca Joe and Hilton Weiner fashion show at Rhodes House on Saturday. The show was hosted by Big Joe van Niekerk and (finally the actual focus of this article) Sam Katz.

I have noticed the lovely Sam in FHM before and eagerly hit Google images search this morning which led me to this. Guys and girls, this is Sam Katz...





















Mayor Sam Katz of Winnipeg in the US. Not easily dissuaded from my quest, I looked harder and found these. She presented the show with the typical girl speaking at a 21st, "I learnt my speech off-by-heart in blocks" lyrical voice but my god is she hot. Like a thin Lauren Mellor with darker hair and more striking eyes.
































Have a look at Sam's Next Models profile at http://www.nextmodels.co.za/?a=models&g=F&id=90259&PHPSESSID=67edc086fe58e684b0d1875c190b09a7

When good times go bad...














Friday afternoon saw the annual Belsen Beer Run, which is more commonly known as the trolley races these days, descend into madness. The course takes 4 male pushers and one female driver from the back of UCT's Kopano Residence to the hockey astro and back, during which time they have to drink close to a case of beer. This year would have been my 5th consecutive participation but unfortunately due to injury, I couldn't take part. This is terribly unfortunate because last years combination of fitness, speed, experience and a 42kg trolley driver from Fishoek ensured that we overlapped other competitors and finished with easily the quickest time. Members of the Canoe club will proudly inform you that this is not the point and that the goal of running the race is to make vomit patterns at "chunda corner." Well, I'm fucking competitive and I want to win so it is the point.















Clearly my absence from the event also meant that there was no calming influence or reponsibility because soon after the end of proceedings, a riot broke out which included: people throwing beer cans at and vomiting on a car full of girls before climbing onto the roof and completely covering the vehicle from sight; a trolley bonfire which billowed a column of dark smoke high into the air; a vagrant (the supposed arsonist) taking his shirt off and tossing it into the flames before nearly being knocked by a trolley into said fire; and other general debauchery.
You've got to love mob mentality. The collective mind is a scary scary thing. Can you imagine if one guy did all that and everyone else just looked at him as if he was mentally unstable. But it doesn't work like that. Everyone thinks its a good idea and before you know it, students have erected a fortess at the top of an embankment and are lobbing cans and bottles at shotgun-toting police officers. This is what your mother meant when she said, "Its all fun and games until someone loses an eye," except that getting shot in the head sucks a little more than being poked in the eye with a stick.

My research led me to a site for the Centre for the Prevention of Shopping Cart Abuse. Some people have far too much time on their hands. Join the cause at www.shoppingcartabuse.com

Monday girl...


This got sent in by one of our esteemed (e-steamy) female readers. The beautiful young girl didn't request smutty pictures of hot rockstars to quench a female desire like say would happen at other sites but instead the little showstopper sent in this for us to use. Use we will!

The legend continues...

I heard people whispering about Him in the African studies library. I heard a guy in the chicken burger queue say He met him once. At a dig party a clarendon 1st year was heard quoting to say he stays in the actual room as He did, and a carinus girl saying she drank from His crackling bottle. The stories of Him are countless... His name is Andrew.

The most recent story I overheard concerned a fight that broke out, probably at the tennis club. It was a mass brawl. Forty guys, shirts off, bare knuckles...old school. He entered the fray, 7 feet tall, (including hair) lightning bolts firing from his eyes, and fire balls from his arse. He came brandishing a buddy coke bottle and just one bottle of unopened Cape To Rio. He spoke to the masses, calming them, then He fed them. He fed them all. Every person drank their fill from the bottle as He offered it to their lips. They apologised to Him, and He forgave them...


The claremont riot police were astounded when they arrived to witness the calm flock of content people following their leader to the heavenly Tiger. Upon arrival He walked His flock, straight to the front of the queue and asked St John to let His people in. They all went in. He wept.

Funningly enough. He did not follow His people in but stayed outside. Those days of staying outside are gone now because He is 23 today and legally allowed to enter, plus this mysteriously and conveniently falls on the same day His 3 month ban is lifted...