DAY 261: PAINTY-SKETCHY-DOODLETHON 1

DAY 239:

DAY 193: TOAST COETZER, I WANT TO MARRY YOUR JUICE ARTICLE.

On a recent Mango flight, while paging through their fucking boring in-flight magazine called Juice, I came across an article written by Toast Coetzer on the back page. It made me laugh, nearly cry and kind of fall in love all at the same time. Toast Coetzer, you have a weird name but you are a brilliant writer. Thanks for charming and disarming me and making my Mango flight memorable. Get a closer look at his 'My South Africa' article here, click 'read now' and go to page 64.

DAY 182: PROBABLE THOUGHTS THAT GO THROUGH THE FATHERS HEAD WHILE HE PRETENDS TO LISTEN TO ME:

I can't believe she's here again. Every Saturday morning like fucking clockwork. 

And I know she's just here for the awesome lunch. And to drink all my Vodka. Jabber, jabber, jabber. Please can someone just dig my eyes out with a spoon. Or set Pirahnas on my balls. Or burn my face off with a waffle machine. Or intoxicate me with cell phone radiation. Or give me eternal herpes. Anything but this constant jabbering. And watch, next thing she'll be asking me to fix that car of hers again. I hate that fucking car. I wish I had never said I could fix it. I mean, who really needs brake lights? Then while I'm fixing it, she'll probably say something like "oooh, what's that?" and I'll say "It's a spanner." What a retard. In fact I'm seriously beginning to doubt we're even related. As soon as she turns around, I'm going to steal one of her hairs and take it in for DNA testing.

DAy 174: ZEN AND THE ART OF JOGGER VOMITING

I’ve become one of those weirdo people that jogs every day. Yes. Believe it. The Greyville Race Course and I have become firm friends. And I’m really, really enjoying it. However this evening, feeling slightly under the weather during my last 500 meter Death Sprint, as I was passing a sweet old lady and her neatly groomed mutt on the track, out of nowhere my lunch decided to projectile vomit itself onto her mutts head and her arm. It was pretty wild. And unexpected. And embarrassing. There was a lot of apologising, faffing, other runners dogs trying to get in on the action and someone’s water bottle that they didn’t want back. It was bad, bad, bad, like scarred-for-life bad. Like can-someone-just shoot-me-in-the-head-right-now bad. But after all the drama (and this is the point I am trying to get to) the sweet old lady that I vomited on actually offered my green complexion and I a lift home. Her kind gesture got me thinking that perhaps I have been a little harsh on Durban Town over the past few weeks. So for the sake of balancing blog Karma, I have decided to compile a list of all the things I love about this place. Feel free to add.

Dankie Durbs for:

1. The big ants that look like they are on steroids

2. The Shongololos

3. The red mud in Glenwood

4. That tree at the end of Florida Road with those insane acid-yellow blossoms

5. The Zulus

6.  The Indians

7. Curried chillies (chillie on top of chillie. Fucking genius.)

8. The single mom that walks her little girl to school every morning passed my bedroom window.

9. The giant Avos in season every day

10. Your warm ocean

11. The cheap rent

12. Carlos, care taker and king of Jubilee Court

13. The Ethekwini Municipality for teaching me to pay my electricity bill on time. If you’re good at one thing, it’s turning the power off. Well done.

14. Bringing out the Entrepreneur in me

15. The rediscovery of red wine

16. Your wide roads with plenty of parking and no traffic

17.  Not stealing my car yet

18. Helping me sleep again

19. The Sproglett

20. Helping me calm down, sort of

21.  Cheap antique shops

22. Your Art Deco buildings

23. The friends I’ve made

24. The sweet old lady who gave me a lift home after I vomited on her and her dog

DAY 171: R.BROWN GETS OUT OF DURBAN TOWN

Miss Esmeraldo and I decided to pull a Thelma and Louise to the Transkei before we both pulled a Columbine on Durban Town. I was lured with promises of magestic scenery. Check. Giant potholes. Check. More Marajuana than was probably necessary. Check. And Handsome Esmeraldo movie industry friends that just happened to be shooting a movie in Port St Johns. Check. This was basically how the entire weekend went:

Coffee, coffee, puff,puff, giggle, giggle, munch, munch, Red Bull, manic, Oh look there's a Hippie, Ha, Ha, frolick in the waves, be a river Hippo, Vino? Yes what a good idea, glug, glug, giggle, giggle, munch, munch, glug, glug, flirt, flirt, dance, dance, puff, puff, Bwaaa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha, snore, snore, coffee, coffee, Panado, Panado...

Day 151: DURBAN TOWN - THE LAST OUTPOST

This is not a funny post. This is not a silly post. It is an honest and angry post. It is a rant about a city that I approached with optimism and ended up strongly disliking. So if I offend any 'Durbanaats' reading this in the process, I do not apologise because I strongly believe it is YOU that makes this city what it is today and today YOU have made me want to get the fuck out of here:

When is it acceptable to sit around a dinner table and talk about how much you loathe it when your kid invites a black kid over to play. And how the thought of ‘it’ using your shower gives you the creeps?

When is it acceptable to say you are a ‘Christian’ (70% of Durban Town) and then call someone a 'Kaffir' to their face?

Why am I finding that the only conversations I seem to be able to have with women in this town are about boob jobs and finding rich husbands?

Where’s your authenticity?

Why do you all moan about the fact that nothing ever happens in this town instead of getting off your asses and actually DOING stuff?

Why are you like this?

What happened? Did you somehow get left out when the rest of the country decided to get real and wake up?

Durban Town, I’ve given you six months of my life. I’ve tried to give you the benefit of the doubt but have ended up just feeling embarrassed for you.

I’ve had it.

The only people in your province with any real integrity and heart are the Zulus. 

The end. Phew.