Posts Tagged ‘University’

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

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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

Ok so I know I originally said that I’ll only write/blog when I’m inspired….. (yeah well that didn’t happen?) 🙂 What I mean is, in the current rat race we call our life we hardly have any time or strength left at the end of the day for a minute of silence, a glass of red wine on the patio or just a second to pause. I mean I for one, has been inflicting the ” 8 ‘o clock go to bed rule” like a tyrant upon my 3 & 4 year old boys. If only they knew it wasn’t my motherly concern about their sleep but rather about MY 8’o clock curfew! I mean im dead at the end of the day, and when you get into bed you run through a million things in your mind that you havent had time for? Things like sticking to your 10 tweets a day target, replying all my mails,what’s for dinner, drop my shoe’s for new heels, phone my mother in law (ok ok you’re right that one usually slip my mind). I mean where the hell will I stumble on an inspired topic to blog about tonight!!

So that’s how I end up on a Friday night while lying on my bed (not too comfy to type like this I’ll tell you), listening to the rain suddenly have this brain wave (yes I do have a brain) to think about something to write about……

Since the best stories (well my bests) start with “this one time at band camp” I decided why the hell not?? Truth is I have some weird, exciting, funny, crazy, wild and hilarious stories to tell. I’ve had a rollercoaster life so far and can’t wait for what’s still to come….. and the things that happened to me only like happen in hollywood movies thus I’ve decided to share them with you.

Ok so hold on to your horses (serias who came up with this phrase, Desperado?) So you must have noticed that I’m not exactly scared to talk about sex 🙂 One of my highschool mates wrote on my Facebook wall (I mean soooooo last year) and asked if I’m obsessed with sex? Well Marius since I am at least getting some action I’ll probably talk about it…. this ones for you!

Ok close your eyes and become the character (whooosaaaabaaaa). 3rd year Psychology student, already acquainted all the chickens who religiously attends ALL the classes and take spiderweb notes (in different colours, WITH post-its), in her 1st semester. Now if you did study at Tuks you’ll know that round about now it’s Tuks Jool going down together with the film festival in the auditorium, I mean who organised this and actually thought that students will have time for classes too??? Duhh…. The best part is that as soon as you recover from passing out in a co-student’s tent which you off course don’t know from a bar of soap during Jool at LC de Villiers, varsity hits back with final 1st semester exams right in your face!! Varsity 1, student 0.

So you rush to the last and only Psych lecture before writing exams. The lecturer off course single’s you out and mentioned that he’s sure this is a new face, and whilst doing you’re best Egoli acting to proof him wrong you and him both knows this is the first class you are actually bothering to attend. So after 2hours of daydream in the class he finally announce that there would be two additional tutor sessions held on Tuesday and Thursday evening at 7 ‘o clock to go through the work that would be covered in the exams. Bingo! this is what I’ve been waiting for, if you attend those two, Bobs you’re uncle and you’ll get through the exam.

Soooo don’t know about you but seven ‘o clock kinda equals beer ‘o clock, and since you’re last class ends at 4 ‘o clock you go sit and drink in the local pub untill 18:55 and then struts into the class last, smelling like your local brewery and an attitude of note proudly wearing youre smartypants.

The tutor was a lecturer from Wits helping out. Well helooooo teacher! Yummy, that Richard Gere thing working perfectly for him and finally I thank Tuks for giving back to the students at last! If you’re only like 7 people in a “moerse” auditorium the lecturer kinda pays special attention to you, don’t know why????? 🙂 So on a very casual note we get to know one another and just chat for a bit. This is when the stud muffin Psych lecturer asks if anyone of us knows of a dancing school nearby since him and he’s wife wants to take some Ballroom classes. I mean not only was I blessed with a drop dead gorgeous teacher but he wants to dance and since I had been using my hard-earned money from teaching Ballroom and Latin American classes every night from 17:00 to 22:00 to pay for my education, I bluntly announced that I teach Ballroom and would gladly come out to give them a private lesson at their home (for double the price off course). Ok I assume the beers did wonders for my self-confidence at that time.
To cut to the chase we agreed that after Thursday’s class we’ll do the 1st lesson.

Ok so you do pay attention to what you wear on an occasion like this and I must say I cleaned up pretty well back then. Class started and I noticed that certain grins were either definitely being directed to me, or the empty chair behind me. I wasn’t sure but these grins held a certain “mysteriousness” (if that’s even a word) to them and it kinda did break my focus and caused all kind off chemical imbalances. After class I waited for everyone to leave and then calmly approached gorgeous Richard Gere for the plan of action. Since he wanted to pick up some chinese take-aways for us all he gave me the address to meet up with he’s already awaiting wife and said he’ll see us soon.

Finally stopped in front of the gates of a three-story mansion and drove up the driveway straight into the garage where a gorgeous short athletic blond were awaiting me. Big blue eyes you can swim in with feisty spiky blond short hair and a warm enough smile to melt the polar icecaps, or maybe that was just me. First things first we got some wine and started going through the CD collection to see what songs we can use to practice on, and I’ve never been soo comfortable in what could have been a very uncomfortable situation. We chatted like old friends, and joked around and it was when lying on the ground laughing I suddenly felt her fingers slowly coming up my thigh and started caressing every part of my body, and then we kissed….. it was amazing being with someone sharing the same emotions and desires, a female counterpart who knew exactly what to do and when. After about an hour Sir Richard appeared and didn’t exactly wait for an invite to join us. After hours of pure pleasure and passion I had my first picture perfect threesome, NEVER to be forgotten!!

Huh? Huh I told you ? BTW I soooo nailed (pardon the pun) that exam !!!