UNDERCULTURE

Good
This doesn’t really belong in the Good category. It actually belongs in the Fucking Awesome category. I discovered that in my local store, the Gardens Pick n’ Pay, they have pre-cooked ribs. But not just any type of pre-cooked pork ribs… The ribs look very unassuming, shoved in the roast chicken rack behind, well, roast chickens. But, trust me when I say that they are the best that I have ever eaten (and as you can imagine, I have eaten a fair number of ribs in my life).

Firstly, they are, on average, a quarter of the price of that most overpriced and disgustingly pedestrian restaurant chain, The Spur. But more than that, and what makes these pork ribs so fucking awesome, is all the crack cocaine they must put in the basting sauce. And if it’s not crack cocaine, I’d be surprised because nothing (Nothing!) on Earth should taste this good. Trust me.

So, do yourself a favour and go to the Gardens Pick n’ Pay. Once you’re there, step to the roast chicken rack, past all the slavering junkies crawling on the floor, and see if they have ribs. If they do, pay the twenty or thirty bucks it’s going to cost you for a pack. Take it home. Eat it, and orgasm several times while under the influence of the magnificent rush of pure hedonistic bliss.

Belonging in the Good section, we also have the paintball session we had a Paintball Heaven. Once again, the Badgers remained the undisputed masters of the underbrush, beating the Raccoons in all but one best of three games (2-1, 2-0, 1-2). We will be doing it again soon. We only had one injury, as Alec stood up too quickly and cut his head open on a tree branch.

That is what an army of the unfit, the smoking and the drunk looks like

I know why we lose against other teams - they are driven. Look at us - don’t you just want to shoot us all? I know I do

He came to a sudden arboreal stop.

This is a more traditional Paintball wound. Still, Andrew took it quite well, even when four of us pinned him down and shot repeatedly in the gut.

I think that this is as good a time as any to repeat how much Grant scares me.

Bad
What is up with the beaches lately? We tried on two separate occasions, this week and last week, to go and swim and catch a few waves (body boarding, and awkwardly at that). Both Sardinia Bay and Humewood were frothy and without many great waves. Is there an equinox or something that we just don’t know? Have we angered Poseidon? If anyone has any great ideas as to where we can go, I’d greatly appreciate it. And, yes, we know about Jeffrey’s but some days it’s not feasible to drive out there.

Ugly
We were on the phone (three of us) with Telkom for an hour and twenty minutes this morning, while we told them what was wrong with our lines. Fuck them. Useless Bastards.

And this should, really, belong in the Good category but since it has to deal with the Underculture Calendar, it must be in the Ugly section, especially since I’ve now added Tiny as our proud new Underculture Hunk: Mr. October.

[Update (20/02/2007)!: The Underculture Calendar is finished! We will be taking orders now! Purchase now before all the stock is gone!]

Celibacy Report
Since, there’s nothing quite like being ditched, as second-best, three times in a row to boost my morale, I spent most of the last while sitting at home, watching the West Wing and feeling sorry for myself. As you can imagine, it’s done wonders for my celibacy.

I got to also spend some time with Fortress Girl on Valentine’s Day, as well as chat to her a little over the last of the week. Seeing her always makes me happy and sad at the same time. I am often baffled on how we don’t see things right in front of us that are so obvious to everyone else. Sigh.

And as for other prospects, well… Let me put it this way: I’ve got a rule that if someone brushes you off three times in a row, it’s time to move on because you’re just going to embarrass yourself. When I am actually interested in someone, I go out of my way to not brush them off or, at the very least, make alternate plans. Maybe it’s just me. I give up.

This is all in contrast to Renaud, who is turning into quite the lothario: moving as he does, like a bee at the height of spring, from flower to frantic flower. I think that I will live vicariously through him for a while.