Archive for the ‘student life’ Category

Weird Girl

Posted: August 17, 2013 in funny, men, student life, women
Tags: , , ,

I’m definitely weird….. as a girl I mean. In my “other life” I could have been male… no I don’t mean I always think with my vajay-jay ok???? 😉

But tell me, dont you think this is weird?
Ok so I love beer….. im more excited by the super rugby series than the edgards red hanger sale! I love diy projects at home and gardening! I am continously fighting for possession and control of the magic freekin wand aka REMOTE CONTROL. .. and when I am steering the dstv I will garunteed flip through 150 bloody channels and then end up with ….wait for it……  on TOP GEAR…. this and the series “friends” are the only two shows that will always make me laugh!
Oh yes AND… my name is Jeanette and I burp….. I kid you not and not how…… This one time in high school I bunked home economics class to go watch a  cricket one day match with the all boys technical drawings class. I burped out loud and the teacher asked who it was? My buddies not wanting to tell it was me had to each suffer the vivacious blow of three strikes on the behind needless to say they we’re less thrilled with me…. I had to provide the drinks for the next few house parties… I swear
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So born and bred in Pretoria and my whole very conservative Afrikaner family tree branches out throughout the “noord transvaal” so when saying that you probably don’t need to be a brain surgeon to figure out that I’m a loud and proud “BLOU BUL” supporter!!! (And I don’t wanna hear anything about the colour pink ok??)

Now I just wanna emphasize the fact that this is part of our culture here in Pretoria. In grade one kids in other provinces learn to sing the national anthem, we are only allowed to sing the “Bulls anthem” 🙂

One-day in grade 1 the teacher heard my friend asking me if my dad also supported the WP and I said no he supports the KP! (referring to the Political Party at that stage) 🙂 I didn’t know that there were any other teams playing?

I mean, I’m sure your mom also have the birthday calendar behind the toilet door right? With the birth dates of all the aunties and uncles who you’ve never even met before… My mom had every Bulls players birthday on there as well, updated yearly!! Thank god for twitter and Facebook otherwise she would have still tried and call Franchois Hougaard on he’s birthday!
Anyhow…

The point I’m trying to make is that we are a completely different species us Bulls… Don’t try to understand us cause you won’t! We’ve only had one cd in the car on our way to holiday (from grade 1 up to gr 12). Everything in Dad’s bar is proudly Bulls branded! My first born’s only baby grow was bought at Loftus!! And if it’s a girl now lately there’s pink available too! While growing up in my teens I tried to hide from it, I really did but it was impossible!! Bulls was like the fat “tannie” in your family that would find you and pinch those cheeks in front of everyone no matter where you hide .. they’ll find you!

Then I started Varsity and you don’t get closer to Loftus… So Tuks of Niks here we come!! I was day student and the 1st initiation I had was a lesson on who played what position in the Currie Cup cause let me tell you if you had any hope of picking up one of the Tuks 1st team rugby oukies you had to know your shit!

So with all of their phone numbers and numerous lessons out of my mom’s bluebulls stats book, I relatively easy got the handle on things and my mom was sooooooo proud of me! In my final year of Varsity when I graduated she gave me ALL her memorabilia! (I shit you not)

As if my mom wasn’t proud enough my sister and I decided to show of our young bodies (this was a few years back ok?) and not where??… At Loftus Versveld during the Currie Cup finals nogals!! The idea was to attract a bit of attention and hopefully meet an eligable young bachelor you can bring home to meet the parents sometime.. So we painted ourselves bulls blue – completely blue… and for bottoms took the bulls flags and wrapped it around our waists .. We bought whiskey tot-packs and hid them in our bra’s. So actually we were 32 C’s but at Bulls games we were 38 DD’s!! Loaded the Cadac and Coolerbox on Sarie (my Varsity Mazda Bakkie) and off we went…

So the idea of attracting “a little” attention completely blew up in our faces when Absa decided to choose us as the winning Bulls supporters, gave us a red coach on the field to watch the game on, and we got to run onto the field just before the team came running up through that tunnel! Ok so there and then I shatted myself!! It all clicked and I knew why Bulls supporters are all soooooo passionate!! Best day of my life… And to top it all off the next Monday I was driving old Sarie to campus when a little black boy came running towards my window trying to get me to buy the Beeld.. At first I waved him away but then my eye caught the FRONTPAGE … Holy mother of Loftus Versveld there were my sis and I in all our glory painted blue…. printed on the coverpage… I almost drove Sarie into a Jacaranda tree…

So my mom still have the lifesize Beeld frontpage framed,hanging in the living room! The whole “noord transvaal family branch” was sent a copy!

I accepted my fate and still today remain a proud Bulls supporter, superbru and tweet all the players on their birthdays! Both my sons probably yelled “skop hom Frikkie” before they said “mommy” and we still play the Bulls song when we braai!

NOU die BLOU!!!

For more info on our Bulls culture kindly go to:
http://www.thebulls.co.za/home.aspx

K so don’t even ask me what year it was….. All I know is that we had tight butts,perky boobs and our bodies had the remarkable capability to function solely (and very effectively really) on first a HEAVY and then a steady then heavy and again steady supply of……. (drumroll) alcohol!!! YES YES YES

SO HOW DID WE DO IT? I promise you the best micro biologists (or whatever they call themselves) in the world is still daily working very hard to understand the physiological dynamics of a student. We hardly ate anything decent…. didn’t get ANY sleep (do I need to elaborate?), partied till the sun came up in a very much polluted and smoke congested club where there is hardly any space to move, but we danced baby!!! Oh yes we did (at least we exercised right?). All of this whilst consuming any form of liquid sure to have you forget you’re name, sshllurrrr when you tried to communicate, fall around and occasionally end up passed out it a toilet cubicle….. Did that stop us????? Oh noooo….. nooooo nooooo. Nope the next night you’ll repeat the exact same routine with even more vigour and enthusiasm and maybe even except drinks from strangers.

You’d spend an entire holiday with a group of friends (strangers you met at the tattoo parlour) and maybe if you’re lucky remember their names when you return from holiday, although it’s a very slim chance. I remember one year we actually camped, yes in tents! Till this day I’m proud to announce that putting up that tent in my condition at that time is to this day one of my biggest accomplishments…. (you really had to be there to get it). Although the tent didn’t quite make it to the end… see on new years eve,midday,morning.. ok im not sure what time I miraculously made it back to my tent… (students get a free body gps unit implanted on the day you enroll at Varsity) HOWEVER… I did not succeed in waking up when someone broke into my freekin tent… no they didn’t use the front zip, they completely cut opened the whole side canvas (I kid you not) and stole a whole bunch of my very personal belongings… If some weren’t valuable I really wouldn’t have reported it to the police station on new years day with a huge headache, babbelas and repeated little vomits in my mouth whilst sitting next to one of 30 other victims all resembling my beautiful state of health identically… The real embarrassment only effectively sunk in, when the Officer on duty called my name out loud …very loud and announced that some of my belongings were found…. I went .. “please let it be my Oakleys” and he went “one medium-sized pink g-string with slogan reading; Find the little mouse house”…… Needles to say I had to walk to the front and collect my belonging in front of everyone… Including the very cute boy I passed out with the previous Wednesday…. Dane was it? No Dan or Drake… nope can’t remember!

I didn’t only loose stuff during Margate holidays ok? I was a rather innovative young entrepreneur if I might add. Let me explain:
Everyone knows the rules for news years eve…on Margate…
You wake up on the 31st, gulp down a Bloody-Mary or the mix of drinks in a cup left from last night, fix the black mascarra rings around your eyes, put on a new bikini, pack (oh sorry you didn’t really have anything to pack) and off to the beach as early as possible to A- dig your own mother of a hole in the sand or B-Paid someone to do it for you… Because if the rest of your buddies eventually make their way to the beach you’ll start the party in a freekin deep hole on Margate Beach…. (see how important social skills deveopment in the sandbox during pre-school years becomes)
You’re probably wondering where the entrepreneurial skills came in? Well well this is how I roll.
I weren’t exactly shy back then, so me and my sis had this brainwave (taking in consideration that most braincells were killed by then) invented the MARGATE BEACHFRONT TOLLGATE SYSTEM! Yes people! Two drunk students invented the TOLL SYSTEM…Taraaaaa!!!! How it worked….. You had to pay us, if you wanted to cross over to another hole… Ok I’ll come clean, at first it were a very profitable upcomming ENTERPRISE, then we started accepting “items” as payment which really also worked for me (collected a vast array of expensive sunglasses and Billabong gear). Then it kinda went downhill… the real liquidation (pardon the pun) of the company only happened when we started to accept kisses in order for the guys to pass through……. Sho! Best kissing booth eva!!! A clear example of how alcohol effects brain function as well as impaired vision) At least the income generated from Tollfee’s in our 1st financial quarter (that would be from 9am-11am on the 31st of Dec) went towards emmmm 25 “R5” McDonald burgers which lasted approximately 3 days… So it basically kept the company alive… hehehe

Then the time came, the countdown…… everyone frantically rushing around to stand next to who-ever ……. we all honored our Gr1 teacher by counting back from 10 to 1 (I have come across a many drunken student struggling with this part), we kiss.. we hug…. we cry… we promise to always keep in touch (NEVER HAPPENED) and then we all chained in, started swinging from left to right and sang:

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And auld lang syne?

Chorus:
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet
For auld lang syne!

OH SO THIS IS THE REAL LYRICS???? See? You’re never to old to learn… Still a student at heart! 😀 Just with more WORK EXPERIENCE! hehehe

Damsel in Distress??

Let’s just say; I’m not your average Damsel!

The word “damsel” derives from the French demoiselle, meaning “young lady”, and the term “damsel in distress” in turn is a translation of the French demoiselle en détresse. It is an archaic term not used in modern English except for effect or in expressions such as this, which can be traced back to the knight errant of Medieval songs and tales, who regarded the saving of such women as an essential part of his raison d’être. – http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Damsel_in_distress
Ok so by now you must have surely realized that I’m not average. I don’t know how to describe myself correctly, but at least I can honestly say that I’m definitely NOT average. From the age of 14, I shared a home with 8 male Engineering students. See the Mechanical Engineers mainly consisted of drunken, greasy, ponytailed metal-heads on a constant high, devoting any extra time available to grasp the cords on the electric guitar hopelessly failing to play ACDC’s “Thunder”! The electrical or civil engineers did the cargo pants with check shirts and a neatly divided “middelpaadjie”. Their moms sent baked goodies to them each month and their rooms were disturbingly tidy! Basically you can assume from this household environment that I had a vast variety of role models to learn from. I could take the best and worst attributes and apply it to my own life. I exchanged school dances with Varisty Rag, my curfew went from 22:00 to 02:00 o clock. Kissing boys on school terrain ( I won’t lie this still happened) changed to pretending I’m a law student at a house party. I can carry on and on with the list but I’m sure the point were carried across. The agreement between my mom and the students VERY clearly and on the front page indicated that at NO stage is fraternizing with her daughters allowed. Let’s just say I applied the “rules are made to be broken” philosophy in a rather frequent manner! The students soon taught me how to burp in public and my abilities in that department exceeded all expectations especially when once I’ve burped the next-door neighbor’s dogs started to bark aggressively. This skill did come very handy when I had to initiate a quick distraction of some kind. Basically I had the time of my life!!! The burping actually reminds me of an incident in my Matric year. See I usually bunked home economics for the Technical Drawing class, which primarily consisted of only boys. On this particular day the teacher allowed them to watch an international cricket match between SA and Australia on the one condition that they remain silent and with no funny pranks or wise cracks from anyone. With me off course the only girl around. We were all busy consuming our purchases from the school kiosk and mine included a can of cola. Now see my emmmm gas level capacity increased a bit too quick and I had to let out some. It was louder than I anticipated thus I brought the whole class to a dead silence for about 2 minutes. Everybody stopped and searched the classroom to identify the boy brave enough to challenge Mr. Smith’s promise. I would guess that at least 4 boys knew it was me, but they didn’t make a sound. After what felt like an eternity Mr. Smith asked us who it was.
I wasn’t about to confess? Imagine how humiliated the guys would be? Like any underpaid teacher the pure joy of taking revenge and proving to the department of education the positive impact a conveyor belt banging across the buttocks of 20 young boys can have on class moral, they each got 3 lashings. Three lashings each, across of those I saw were very attractive rear-ends if I may say so. Off course I walked out of there unharmed and had to listen to a speech on “how to behave in front of girls” Mr Smith so passionately delivered just before the bell rang. After class Peter and gang did however mention to me that they would think up an appropriate punishment for me to settle at a later stage. The other boys who heard later weren’t too impressed with me either, but in a dead poet’s society kind of way I did earn respect amongst them. Also little did I know that my punishment later the year was to ask the headmaster (yes yes the biggest numb-nut known to humanity) to dance at our Matric dance. I am still slightly disturbed and mentally damaged from that experience but my therapist has made fast improvements thus far.

Ok so back to life in the Fraternity House. When the time arrived that I attend varsity I was already initiated and operated like a well oiled party machine! I actually want to share a certain incident with you which went down round about my 3rd or 4th year in varsity (accuracy on timing not guaranteed). I say incident because when you’re a student living life in the fast lane you tend to completely lose the best part of your better judgment. So party nights were now extended from Monday – Saturday every night with a clock in card around 4am each morning. In recent times in my life I often ponder about this miraculous ability to party non-stop, I cannot for the love of it figure out where we got the energy from back then? Ok ok I actually do know, but certain things are best left unsaid *evil grin*.
So one Friday night in Hatfield (confessions of the Hatfield harem) we met up with an international visiting rugby team (I signed a confidentially clause ok?). After many a shooters and the cross exchange of saliva we had to remove the international claws from ourselves and call a taxi for the blokes to take them back to the hotel they were staying at. Due to our southern hospitality we were invited to the lobby lounge of the International Hotel at OR Tambo to have farewell drinks with the boys before their flight departs the next morning early. We really thought this would be a small gathering and to our astonishment turn out to be a formal team event with coaches and team managers and IRB officials. I was completely gob-smacked and reckoned I have met yet another “love of my life” (for the record this is a regular occurrence displayed numerously with girls between the ages 20 – 24) and that I’d become the next rugby-housewife and immigrate, all planned out. Well loverboy reckoned we should go somewhere more “private” to say our farewell’s which I was as eager to do. Up in he’s room, a scene pretty much similar to those in the “Mills & Boons” stories played out and we we’re rather hot and bothered. But wait there’s more: At that stage there were a knock at the door. Loverboy went to open the door and whallah Mr. Team Coach were standing there himself. At first I thought we were in trouble and that I’m gonna get a speech on how these activities influence player potential blah blah but instead what Mr Coach requested was rather weird and slightly disturbing. Ok so we’re talking about me here, meaning that “slightly disturbing” sounded rather exciting to me and if it weren’t for the gentle mannerism in which he kindly requested my permission I would have been outa there in a second or…possibly in huge trouble…. Instead we all signed a confidentiality clause and me and loverboy proceeded with our devious acts while the Head Coach of an international rugby team kept a close eye on the ball and made sure that no hands were used in the ruck!! *wink*
Definition of a ruck and maul?
A ruck is where a player has been tackled and has been gone to ground after both opposition and their own players have joined and created a ruck. The hands must NOT be used in a ruck after it has been formed.
Read more: http://wiki.answers.com/Q/What_is_a_rugby_ruck_and_maul#ixzz1jZIikgt1