unnecessary coverage

You know, there are some cool cover songs out there in the world. Mostly, they're the ones that explore the song from a new slant... ferinstance, Cat Power's take on Wonderwall, Hounds of Love by The Futureheads, Easy done by Faith No More and so on.

And there are some truly woeful covers that have become classics by dint of their tackiness, their surrealism, or their blatant bad taste. The best "bad" cover version I have ever heard is William Shatner mercilessly interpreting Mr Tambourine Man by channeling some nutjob stalker. The man is quite obviously insane, in the best possible way. It's actually better than the original, because it's funnier, and somehow more endearing*.

However there are a lot of mediocre covers of mediocre or bad songs. Or good songs that were fine as they are. And they border on offensive. Ronan Keating covering the Goo Goo Dolls' Iris was playing this morning as I got to work. How malign a piece of work is that? Like a photocopy of a photocopy, he managed to suck what little soul and emotion lurked in that song in the first place. As bland as white rice. Unsalted!

A special (read: dark and oozy) place in my heart is reserved for the likes of I love Rock 'n Roll as molested by Britney (you love rock 'n roll? then why are you hurting it so much?), American Pie trashed by Madonna (no no no no). Atomic Kitten doing The Tide is High made me want to drown myself, Mandy by Westlife made me want to drown Westlife, and Uptown Girl by... yes, Westlife, just about made me ready to commit my life to destroying Billy Joel, since he was ultimately responsible.

Let's not talk about Light My Fire as ruined by Will Young. Because Will is adorable** and I want him to be my GBF, and we couldn't ever do that after my harsh, harsh words relating to that atrocity.

* I've just discovered Boston Legal. It is Fantastic.
**although I've seen disturbing evidence recently of premature baldness. That makes me sad. say it ain't so!!!

If it's worth saying...

it's worth saying right.

Since I've been back, I've become a lot more aware of (and a lot more annoyed by) the South African inability to pronounce things correctly. This inability is coupled with a downright stubbornness, or perhaps it is a dogged, nay mulish contrariness that amounts to a refusal to say it properly: " I am a South African, and that's how I say it." Oh, well that makes it okay then.

No, it doesn't, so there.

If it's a bona fide Seffie* word, then by all means, then there is a Seffie pronunciation to go with it. Borewors, moer, rooibos, jol, kif, boep and poes are all lovely words that we often teach to foreigners, so that we can laugh at their pronunciation.

However, words that are not South African, or southafricanised, should be pronounced correctly, because that is just what you do. That is why dictionaries have pronunciation guides, and don't just say: "oh fuckit pronounce it however you want, we don't care!" Most places in the world, if you don't even bother to try to say it right, you come off as some sort of redneck.

And so children, please repeat after me:
purr-sjoh, not pyew-joh.**
sjee-von-shee, not give-enn-chi.
renn-o not renn-orlt

And for god's sake: One Rand, many Rand. Rhymes with canned (in English) and runt (in Afrikaans). Not Plant.

Okay?

PS To the person with the "BIAACTH001" vanity plate: spellcheck, you 'tard.

* this is a Saradiaism, if I'm not mistaken.
** Oh how this one annoys me.

V(~_~)V

source.

Just a note to say thanks to all of the readers who have been commenting lately. It's nice to have some feedback. If you haven't been commenting, please do so: I'm emotionally needy and need the ego boost.

Friends in far-away places.

I have a lot of friends all over the world. Now, that may sound all; glamorous and jet-settery, but. really, it's annoying. and kinda sad. I mean, every time I have great time, I think:"Man I wish Bob/ Peter/ Mary/ Squishy McGee* were here. That would be awesome". And on the days I'm sitting home all sad and lonely and bored and feeling friendless and pathetic, it's cold comfort to remind myself that I'm actually very popular... overseas.

I also spend a lot of time on gmail chat and skype, and emailing people. I'm intrinsically lazy, so that's less fun thatn it should be, especially as everybody gets all pissy if I send out group mails.something about not being special and wanting individual attention yadda yadda. Facebook is cool that way because I can send the occasional poke people's way, and it sort of amounts to meaningful human contact. In a a way. If you squint.

I guess, then that it follows logically that I should start to form bonds with people whose blogs I read and comment on (and vice versa). There is now a little blogging community that communicates almost solely through each other's blogs, which is sort of like having pen pals, I guess. Pen pals that swear a lot. and are sometimes inappropriate. So just like when I was 13, then?

I do miss the actual flesh-and-blood people though. Especially Squishy. He was always good for a laugh.

* not their actual names. it would take too long to type all their names and If I left any out there would be hurt feelings and sulking, for sure.

Regrets? I have a few.

so, there are a few things I would really like to have done in my lifetime, but haven't. I mean, I've accomplished a whole lot of really cool things: putting myself through two degrees, getting really involved in photography, living in strange countries for extended periods, giving a volcano the finger-- these are just a few of the awesome things I have enjoyed doing. But I'm talking the really awesome things, my dream activities, my fantasy life.

get your mind out of the gutter.


anyway, herewith find enclosed the aforementioned list of things I would like to accomplish at some point.

1) Being a ninja would be Pretty Damn Cool. I think that my life is essentially an empty sucking void when it comes to my lack of Ninja skills, or skillz as it were. I often imagine how much better everything could be if i could jump around buildings, kicking the shit out of people, throwing shurikens in the supermarket, and generally delivering Hard Life Lessons to people that annoy me. Especially guys who kmake kissy noises at me when they drive past. Or who walk past and are all like: "hey babay" I'm not your fuckin baby. But I digress. who wouldn't want to be accomplished in silent, gymnastic kick-assery?
2) Being an invincible robot ninja would be even better. do I even have to clarify this? I thought not.
3) I would like to smash a beer bottle across the face of a punk-ass. A green one. And not a wine bottle. and no, not smash a beer bottle and cut someone. I want to actually whack the bottle across their cheek, due to their deserving it. I can see it. I think it might be satisfying.
4) wait. A ninja pirate!!!!! holy cross-genre fantasticaciousness! Skaaaaarsgaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrd!
5) Killing a Zombie, obviously. with a crossbow? nothing too gross or bloody, like a chainsaw. whatever: I'd like more than 50 action points a day though.
6) Is it too late to learn to skateboard? or is it too having-a-midlife-crisis? Can women even have midlife crises? I think I would make an awesome skatepunk: I already have a snotty attitude and a tattoo, and enjoy rebelling against authority (ie: The Man).
7) eventually, before I get too old, I'd like to turn Vampire. With an awesome sword that glows blue and steals souls, which would feed my eternal.... ah. wait. that's the plot of Soul Reaver*..... oh whatever.

I really did not intend for this to contain quite as much violence. Oops. Next post: sunshine, kittens and picnics.

* I once found the cheat that allowed me to get the Soul Reaver during Baldur's Gate. It was pretty sweet.

Our Gmail conversations tend to disintegrate like this

Gmail. this morning. As usual:

E-Poops: so Ladies’ Dan and I spend an awesome evening last Thursday playing drinking HOUSE! with one of the new episodes. (too bad it was the most boring episode ever... except for when house says "rape baby") so Ladies’ Dan, I finally got the other episode to download properly, and watched it with molly on Saturday evening, and I wish you had been there to play "take a drink for every foot of tapeworm house pulls out of the patient" -- it was like 25).

Also, remember when that doctor pulled 25 feet of anal beads out of Bertrude’s mom?

Dr. Esteban: Oh I totally saw that episode!
E-Poops: I liked how they added the following lines to calm people's fears about giant 800 feet tapeworms living inside of them:
Nurse: could I have a tapeworm inside of me?
House: no, you would feel it. The only reason this girl didn't know
she had a tapeworm, is because she can't feel pain.

Also, random fact. The "can't feel pain" disease only has about 35 cases reported in the US, but there are over 300 cases in Japan.
Me: I thought that was the "can't feel empathy" disease?
Dr. Esteban: No, it's Can't Understand Why Everyone Isn't Exactly Like Me disease.
Me: ah, I see where I was confused. I think that goes hand in hand with "claim everything as our invention" disease.
E-Poops: I thought it was the "can't understand why everyone isn't exactly like me, and I am also unable to walk properly and choose attractive clothing" disease
Dr. Esteban: You mean Spontaneous Fashion Barf-o-plosion?
E-Poops: that would be the scientific word.... yes
E-Poops: (oh... sorry... the scientific word for word is term)
Me: what about "my panty hamster gets so hot in winter that I have to flash it even if it's snowing" disease?
Dr. Esteban: Did you just refer to a clunge as a "panty hamster?"
E-Poops: Betenoir is a little confused, because her cooter IS in fact a living breathing, hamster.
Me: it eats seeds.
Dr. Esteban: it eats seed?
Silent disapproval robot: ...
Me: ...and nuts.
Me: don't judge me.
La Chica: I ate some nuts today. Pecans & Cashews. Are you gonna judge me?
Dr. Esteban: Only if you ingested them through your "panty hamster."
E-Poops: Chica’s is a gerbil.

** Names have been changed to protect the identities of those involved in this... incident...

I think I may have.. a Problem.

Man Oh man Oh manoman. So, my mom's always been worried about me becoming an addict. Or maybe it's just an alcoholic. I think this is the type of thing moms worry about, especially with a) family history* and b) university. University students drink a lot, even by my standards. And I have to admit, I drank a wee fair few drams in my time. Thing is, it was never going to turn into an addiction because i) it's far too expensive when you only like imported beer and ii) I could never muster up the motivation to deal with hangovers more than once a week. If that.

However.

I seem to be an addict. And it's the worst, most insidious type. It's socially acceptable, nay, it's socially encouraged! That's right. I worship the bean. I crave the caffeine. I get juiced on the Java.

I think the problem can be traced back to Starbucks. I know, all my American friends are like:"blah blah Starbucks are the Antichrist blah blah exploitative blah". But they know nothing. the Bucks have succoured my emotional well-being on many an occasion. Oh, caramel latte, how I beseech thee, prithee cure my ills**.

In any case, I am now experiencing full-blown signs of addiction. I Jones for coffee. If i don't get my morning cup, I get a headache- which disappears the minute I have some. I'm cranky, bitchy, and emotional without my fix. My skin freakin' hurts! well, i imagine it does, which amounts to the same thing.

you know what the sign of a true addict is? chocolate-coved coffee beans. If you eat an entire packet in one sitting, you should reconsider your life.

* "omigod Bet! are you sharing personal information on your blog?" I am. sort of. I can't be secretive all the time, you know.
**fuckit, even I don't get my sense of humour sometimes.

gnah. gnf. blep.

Fah, but my brain is deaded. it's somewhat amazing how a relatively simple but mind-numbing task can rob you of your cognitive power. Also the ability to walk, talk, or breathe through the nose. The key is to find something repetitive and boring, requiring just enough coordination/ skill to make it annoying. Then do it for an entire workday, or two, or (it looks like it's gonna be) three. Add a soupcon of interruptions, other tasks that need to be handled urgently, and a phone that rings constantly. Then bake in a windowless office, until nicely zombified.

I will not be able to make witty conversation tonight, I can just feel it. I hate going out all unwittified. I might as well not wear makeup. Or deodorant. Or pants. I don't feel I am being too arrogant when I claim that I am the Oscar Wilde of my Generation... Okay, Not quite, but certainly the...someone... of... fuckit, I am unable to maintain this post. Here I am trying to be funny and I just cannot pull it off. This is vaguely pathetic. And yet I cannot stop. Oh, and it seems I have lost the ability to speak in contractions.

Help. me.

Some Days are weirder than others.

On the days that I don't feel like being at work, I do weird things to entertain myself. today I have:

• annoyed and intrigued most of the office by asking the unanswerable: "how and where do the staplers go in the copier? what if they run out?" Cue Jocelyn and I taking apart the machine in an attempt to find the source of the stapley goodness. No luck, but I found the pack of spare staples. copier staples have no bends. how cool is that?!!!?
• caught a falling phone book, and reacted by growling and making claw hands, and yelling:" reflexes of a cat!!!!!!". The volunteer did not think that was amusing, but it's not my fault she has no sense of humour.
  
• stood silently by Jocelyn's desk until she noticed me. raised my eyebrows. then walked away.
• answered everyone's "can you do me a favour" by saying "no. no i don't feel like it".
• Gone online window shopping. Does anyone want to buy me some sweet Cons? I'm a size 5 ½.

sigh. 1 Hour 5 mins till I'm free. why is the shortest day also the longest?

Atrocious Displays of Vulgarity

5 things that are neither funny nor clever:

1. cellphone screensavers: oh, you're the number one bitch? you like a hot stud on your phone? or maybe a stripper? because, god knows a two-centimetre stripper makes even the strongest knees weak.... see also -->
2. "funny" ringtones: ah, your phone farts. or moos. or makes orgasmic groaning noises. how original. I wish to fellate you immediately.
3. "baby on board" stickers. because I was going to prang your car, but now I can't, damnit!
4. dolphin tattoos and belly rings: you are a wild and untamed hellcat. you're a tigress between the sheets. You prowl the streets, a crazy rock chick, blasting your Offspring into the night. Another Klippies and coke, please!
5. T-shirts with "witty" statements, or designer names: Gucci doesn't make t-shirts. and If they did they'd cost 500 dollars and be artfully ripped. You are not a princess. I'm not scared of this bitch biting. One tequila two tequila three tequila bore. My little Princess is your little whore. I get it, you're a hardcore bitch/ pimp and you like to drink a lot.
   

I admit it. I'm a) elitist and b) a snob. I don't see a problem with this.