We call him Mister Dude

There once was a boy who lived in a village that time forgot.  It was a fabulous place to live, a place filled with happiness, laughter and love.  Where the other villagers took care of one another.  They were considerate and kind.  And this boy stole the hearts of all the other villagers.  Some visitors of the land would carry tales of his kindness or his humour or even his handsomeness but they all couldn’t stop telling the story of how he was loved by all the other villagers.  He might have been the most loved person in the village.

The mayor of the village was especially fond of him, and even had a special name for the boy.  He called him Dude.  Because why not?  When a person gets a nickname made of love, then one doesn’t consider the amount of time that was spent scanning through countless books of baby names, just to try and find that perfect balance of manliness, meaning and pronouncability.  Not to mention the ease of spelling the damn thing.

The tragedy of the village was that time moved a lot faster than in the normal world.  What feels like a brief moment turns out to be months or even years in real time.  Moments that fly by at the speed of light, moments that turn into memories faster than life itself.  And then one random day in a year, the villagers wake up and realise that their short stint in time turned out to be a whopping 18 years of real time!!  And that my friends, is fucking ridiculous. (Sorry readers but it is what it is.)

The problem with reaching 18 years of real time is that the boy is no longer a boy.  When a citizen of the village turns 18, it implies that he will be leaving the village shortly.  In a few months from now he will have to say goodbye to the other villagers and then he will only be able to visit them every now and again.  (And let me tell you dear boy, it better be more now than then!)  But there’s nothing anyone can do about it.  The mayor have tried to stop time or even slow it down but there’s no stopping the inevitable.  Time is a heartless bastard.  The man-boy will have to leave the village and face the real world which is a horrible place filled with things like responsibilities.  A place where he will have to stand up and face all the consequences of the many decisions he has yet to make.IMG_2378

The good thing is that Dude is well prepared for life in the real world.  He has grown into the most amazing man in all the land.  He is kind, and generous, and wise, and disciplined, and courteous, and funny, and responsible and dare I say, ladies, dashing as hell.  And even though he might leave our little village, he knows that he’ll always have a place to call home.  A warm place where the other villagers will support him and encourage him and love him until death and beyond.  And they will wish him well on his journey and on this landmark birthday, a soon as they finished sobbing and are able to speak.  Once they have dried their tears of joy and pride.

Because starting tomorrow, we will call him Mister Dude.

And with that, I wish you the greatest, happiest and best 18th birthday.  May your future be as bright as your own being.  May your day be filled with a thousand chuckles and a million laughs.

We love you in a way you may never fully comprehend.

Mom, Princess and I (aka the Mayor.)

 

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Get to know me

This was homework given to me courtesy of All in Dad’s work and Crubbs and Critters before time began.  Before dinosaurs ruled the earth and fax machines was considered a luxury.  This post is so long overdue that I would be very surprised if they even remember giving this assignment to me.  If this was a school project I wouldn’t even get detention because the teacher would probably be dead already.

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In the spirit of all my new followers of my blog and the fact that I’ve been absent for more than a year, I thought it a good idea to provide some critical information about yours truly. Better late than never. Here goes:

  1. Who are you named after? My Dad.  It’s a family name which I didn’t pay forward.
  2. Do you like your handwriting?  Yes.  It’s lovely, like a crab crawling through ink.
  3. What is your favorite lunch meat? Anything. And everything. Except Enterprise viennas and poloni.
  4. Longest relationship? The one that I’m in.  Dated for 2, married for 22.
  5. Do you still have your tonsils? I think so but I attended a conference in Bangkok last year and came back with a sore throat and fuzzy memory and I didn’t check what was the black market price for tonsils at the time.
  6. Would you bungee jump? No. Unless someone pays me three-twenty-eight-and-a-half thousand-million-hundred dollars.  I’m easy, but not cheap.  Or good in maths.
  7. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off?  Yes, I’m not a barbarian unless they’re slops.  Then I just flick them at the closest kid.
  8. Favorite ice cream? I’m not a massive fan of sweet stuff but if someone wants to buy one for me I’ll struggle through a nice big cup of vanilla and strawberry soft serve.
  9. What is the first thing you notice about people? Whether they’re happy or not.  You can see it on a person’s face. I tend to avoid unhappy people.  Life’s too short.
  10. Football or baseball?  Neither.  I’m not American.  Or European.  Or bored out of my mind.  I watch rugby.
  11. What color pants are you wearing? Dark blue chinos because I’m trendy AF.
  12. Last thing you ate? Two burgers in one sitting.  I’m awesome.
  13. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? This has to be the weirdest question I’ve ever come across.  Oh no wait, it isn’t.  That honour belongs to the time when they asked me whether my third leg was a prosthesis but that is a story for another day.
  14. Favorite smell?  Weed. I’m just kidding.  Jeez, relax why don’t you.  When someone is smoking weed.
  15. Who was the last person you spoke to on the phone? My parole officer.
  16. Hair color?  Mousy brown with a couple of tasteful grey stripes that are strategically placed to make me look more mature and responsible, courtesy of God.
  17. Eye color?  Green/Grey. I know.  I have never been able to pick one.  Let’s just say my eyes are greyeen.  Aaaaand I’ve just invented a new colour.
  18. Favorite foods to eat? Spaghetti Bolognaise, steak and anything with wine. But not brussel sprouts because if you can eat that shit you are also the type of person that place kittens in a tumble dryer for three minutes.
  19. Scary movies or happy endings? I’ve got teenagers so my day basically swings between a horror movie and a happy ending.  I like superhero movies.  And let’s be clear, Catwoman and the rebooted atrocity of the Fantastic Four doesn’t count as superhero movies.  Wait a minute, what kind of happy ending are we talking about here?
  20. Last movie you watched?  Pitch Perfect 3.  Don’t judge.  They make music with their mouths.
  21. Favorite Holiday? Not working.
  22. Beer or Wine? Duh…this is such a stupid question.
  23. Night owl or early bird? If I had a choice, night owl but adulthood and parenting gets in the way of me achieving my ultimate dream of sleeping in every day.  How I do love sleeping…
  24. Favorite day of the week? Wineday because that could be every day.

25. Which three of your favorite bloggers you would like to know more about? And who were the last three people to follow your blog?

They happen to be the same three people.  Coincidence?  No, just me being lazy and I listed six. ‘Cause it’s my blog and I can do what I like.  Besides, she said it was fine.

Life happens

*on my knees

I’m really, really, really sorry for not sticking to some kind of routine when it comes to my posts on this blog but it’s not because I don’t want to, it’s just, well, you know, life.  It happens.  Like shit.

There are so many things that happened in the last few months of my life that it’s becoming rather difficult to keep track.  I opted out of the rat race, sat down and took a breather (and two glasses of wine because some things never change).

So this is me, taking a breath.

I changed jobs. Yes, I did.  It’s my third week in my new office.  I switch from a job where I hopped around the globe to one that has basically no travelling.  And I love it.  I love being home.  I love seeing every game my kids play.  I love not having to plan my life around a business trip and an important event involving my family and friends.  I love not missing anything anymore.  I love the different environment.  I love the challenge.  I love meeting new people.  I love the change. What I don’t love is the fact that I might never see New York again.  But I’ll survive. *cue music

I’ve entered the final year of my MBA.  Yes, I did.  Can you believe it?  A journey that started two years ago has reached the final stretch, albeit the toughest part of the race.  I have to complete a thesis.  And thesis stands for the-headache-ends-shen-Isubmit. (”When” didn’t work in the context of the acronym.)  I’m ready to do this thing, head down, pushing forward but before I continue, let’s me just use this opportunity to clarify an issue:  The reason for my absence from this, or any other blog for that matter, is because of those three damn letters. Even the wife has mentioned how she misses me sometimes…

Dude is a Senior now.  Yes, he is.  “This is mind blowing”, he says, as he slowly shakes his head, taking in the picture in front of him, grey matter splattered across crisp white floor tiles and a fluorescent ceiling.  Yesterday Dude was still running around in nappies and now he is running around in his final year of high school!  And he is turning out to be an amazing and mature young man, despite the example he got from his Dad.  We had to apply for a university and low and behold he got accepted, at least provisionally, depending on his final marks.  He plans to study commerce.  Or accounting.  Or law.  Or not.  What person truly knows what they want to do with the rest of their lives when they’re 17?  I mean I don’t even know what I want for breakfast tomorrow and I’m supposed to be a Dad with all the answers.  (Please don’t let the cat out of the bag, it took me three hours to stuff it back in.)

Princess is stunning.  Yes, she is.  I don’t understand how one person could become prettier by the day but yet, there she is.  Living proof that beauty is in the eyes of the father. And not only is she gorgeous, she’s intelligent, independent, organised, responsible and she doesn’t take any crap from guys.  She calls them out on their shit, without any hesitation. And this is probably her most endearing quality, in my humble opinion.

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Brother and sister forced to pose together by Mom and Dad.

Wife is still amazing, running the household, keeping everything together, taking charge of her two kids and her wonderful man-child.  She does get a little less enthusiastic about the idea of Dude leaving the house at the end of the year, but like any responsible and loving parent, we simply avoid discussing the issue.  Kids don’t like it when both parents are bawling their eyes out in a restaurant or mall or church service or rugby game.  We know this now.

So if you were worried, don’t.  Everything is fine with me and everyone I love.  I promise to try and find the time to write more.

I’m Ah Dad and I have a problem

It seems that I’m losing the urge to (1) Stab a certain coworker in the throat or (2) Wanting to down a bottle of wine at 10 in the morning or (3) Both of the above in quick succession of each other.  But I do have another problem.  Or more accurately, an addiction.

Addiction is a dependence on something in order to sustain normal behavior.  There are many forms of addiction.  Examples include heroine, cocaine, sex, alcohol, Facebook, Jennifer Aniston and/or Britney Spears. And before this post turns into a fifth grade report on substance abuse, let’s just all agree that the first step in recovery is admitting you have a problem. Continue reading

This could have been the best decision of my life

Lately my writing time has been soaked up by a lot of other shi stuff in my life.  It’s not the best excuse but it’s the one I’m using.  I really wish I had more time to write because it’s the one thing that prevents me from kicking random strangers and/or colleagues. The other thing is coffee.  Lots and lots of coffee.  I’ve had more than one anxiety attack lately because my life has been hectic.  Just last week I was googling my symptoms on WebMD and I was either having a mini-stroke or just very hungry.

I have two kids.  *The crowd goes silence in suspense*  These kids are getting older by the minute.  *The audience gasps at another shocking revelation*.   They will be leaving the house soon. *Audience members are leaving as the suspense is becoming too much to bear* Continue reading

I got older without noticing it

Age is a number, they say.  Age is a mental concept, they say.  You’re only as old as you feel, they say.  Well “they” can go and f…ondle themselves on a highway.  “They” are walking around with their head up their ass because growing old is inevitable but ridiculously hard to get used to.  I’ve gained a newfound understanding for how age can creep up on you and then jump and throttle you like a facehugger.

We spend our annual holiday camping at a family resort, which is basically paying a lot of money to live like a homeless person.  I used to be very anxious and actively involved in setting up our camp site making sure everything is done in a proper way because camping becomes a lot less fun when the wind blows your tent to the next country.  The resort we stay at has people who are more than happy to set up the site for you, at a fee of course.  Being who I am, I didn’t oblige because I have slaves working for free, my two teenage kids.   Continue reading

One of these days we may have birdpie for dinner.

The third website I found, after googling “most dangerous countries in the world” as part of my research for this post, listed South Africa as number 17 on their list of 20.  It has to be said that the list was compiled by someone in the UK and we all know they’re just a bunch of scaredy cats.  The first two sites were a little more kind and listed as somewhere in the forties.  Based on this reality of living dangerously, I also own a semi-sophisticated security system that allow us to sleep at night.

Or more importantly, a system that allows us to wake up in the event of an intruder on our property.

In order to make this happen, I’ve installed a house alarm as well as four beams on the garden perimeter, that not only sets of an alarm (turning your heart into a glazier) but also automatically notifies an armed response company when it is breached.  If the company is any good, they will phone home just like ET and check if everything is in order, before they arrive with sirens and bullet proof vests and guns blazing.   Continue reading