The weekend started off as every weekend in the whole universe should not; stuck in traffic with taxi’s trolling the yellow lines on the road, and almost taking my head off in one swift blow when I wanted some fresh air. After the shenanigans on the road, I got myself to the usual Friday afternoon spot; met up with my old man and some buddies for a bite to eat and a few well deserved alcoholic refreshments to calm the nerves, then eased myself into the weekend mood. After a few drinks, I quickly went to my vehicle to fetch my wallet, and to my surprise, I saw that someone had stolen the front badge off my car? Why? How? And what the fuck? My badge off my car… Really!? It’s probably on some 1.4 Uno Turbo or 1925 Volkswagen… don’t laugh, it’s a serious offence in my book. Much like passing out without your pants, in your neighbor’s backyard with a piece of salami under your arms. It’s a big NO-NO in my book. After a lengthy discussion, my lady and I decided that Friday night should be spent indoors in front of my TV. After all, we had a big day planned ahead. I had a few household drinks, and we lent our eyes to some DVD’s before explicit explicit… Saturday morning. No hangover to speak of, and I was up at 6:15… I hate myself. We caught up with some series before we got picked up by Jean and his ‘lady’ – I have no idea what they have between them, all I know is that they hold each other’s legs. Half relationshippy? We poured a drink on the way to witness Braaiboy make history by having a braai underwater. We got there in the scorching heat, and immediately ordered more drinks to soothe our overheating bodies into the festivities. While Braaiboy was busy getting into his scuba outfit, our MC for the day, Baas de Beer got the hype going by hosting Braai Olympics; which I was an unfortunate victim off. Thanks for calling me out in front of everyone; next dop is on you Baas! Two people were on a team: I had Jean in mine. He was no Jonty Rhodes, but did enough to pass the rigorous test… barely. It worked as follows: We had to throw, or rather, try not the kill the other person by throwing pieces of braai wood into a sack that the other person was holding. We won some shooters and didn’t cause any serious injuries, WINNERS! Braaiboy went down the water cylinder to make history. Underwater drinks were ordered, underwater fires were lit, underwater card transactions were done, and best of all, you had to be underwater to see any of this 🙁 Awesome idea, but it was a bit blurry to see anything, really. I also caught up with Henno Kruger and some of his mates and they convinced me to get myself to Strab Fest in the near future, on the sandy shores of Mozambique. After it was done, we made our way back to our home ground, got a bite to eat at a local drinking place while not giving a fuck about the rugby at hand. I like the game, but the Bulls were playing terribly the last couple of weeks and it didn’t interest me at all, I found way more joy talking kak with my lady and our relationshippies. We progressed to another well established bar to get more drinks into our faces, but the place was found wanting. It had no atmosphere to speak of, and we all got bored out of our minds. So the next viable option was getting home and into bed. But before that, I had to bend my leg in a way only an ostrich would be comfortable in, and yes it did hurt… We got home, I got a beer and smoke to wind down the Saturday and dozed off to the soothing sounds of Journey. Sunday. Remember when I said that Saturday had no hangover in store for me? Well, Sunday was his cruel brother that wanted to kick my ass to the curb. And yes, my lady was in good spirits by celebrating no bra day in bed. I’m a lucky guy. Fast forward a bit; yes I was indeed feeling a bit roughed up, so we got our sore bodies to Mike’s Kitchen hoping to redeem our scorned souls. ‘What would you like to drink sir?’ I’ll have a Coke, no wait, make it a Cream Soda, no shit fuck, you serve Draught on tap right? ‘Yes’ ‘I’ll have one of those.’ Does this line seem all too familiar? We got food in our bellies and walked around aimlessly in a mall with too many kids running into my lower half of my body for me to have even a little bit of fun. We got home, treated ourselves to The Walking Dead – just in time for tonight’s Season 4 – and laughed ourselves into a frenzy from the ever so entertaining Sheldon Cooper. The weekend was a thing of the past when that dreaded Carte Blanche music played, and I knew that a tough week was in my future, when I saw that the episode would be a whopping one and a half hours long. Mr Weekend, thank you. You showed me a good time.