Class of 98

So we all packed our cooler boxes and headed east for the Class of 98 reunion at then best school on the East Rand Höerskool Jeugland. It is hard to believe that it has been a decade since the last time I was dressed in uniform (ok not the last but those are just for fun! grrr)

The biggest motivation for attending was obviously curiosity, as you want to see how everybody turned out, and then my personal motivation was to see if the 1st Rugby team obtained their cool, god’s gift status over the past 10 years. My suspicions were confirmed within the first few minutes. I came to the general conclusion that the nerds turned out rather well, and with that I don’t necessarily would have called myself a nerd at school, but I suppose I was the captain of the chess team at some stage wearing spectacles as thick as a glass Coca-Cola bottle base so I suppose that puts me in that category.

Some people got bigger, some got smaller (ok I can only think of one such example), some haven’t changed, some became more reserved, some should be more reserved and not sit on my lap while married with children and the husband is sweating at the braai fire! I don’t like long white nails and I don’t care that you got your figure back after childbirth, not interested darling!

There are obviously two questions you get asked all night, and depending on the answer to the second question you might get a third.
“So what do you do for a living?”
“Are you married?” if yes “How many children?”

I contemplated before hand to take a prostitute as a date and dress up in a suit which would have provided answers to both these questions, but instead I dressed normal and dragged M along who helped me finish the two bottles of good red wine, she ended up handing out her phone number to up and coming rock stars…you go girl!

Something I don’t understand yet is why you would park your C180 Classic right in front of the door of the school hall and not with the rest of the automobiles in the parking lot? Just because you can, or maybe the cooler box was slightly heavy, or maybe that was the condition to drive mommy’s car for the night as she might be afraid it could get stolen….some things never change

See you all in ten years time!

Back to Black

So the most prestigious event on the Yum! calendar is approaching fast and I still have nothing to wear. Believe it or not, yes I know my cupboards can’t close properly anymore, but dressing up for a formal function with a theme of “Black and White” is not something I managed to orchestrate from the mountains of clothes I currently own.

I usually find myself upstream from the conventional flow of things and therefore figured that most males in the room will most probably wear the traditional (excuse the term somewhat boring) black penguin tux with a propeller around the collar, so yes I know some of you might fall of you chair now, but I’ve strongly considered to bring back the Modern Talking era by wearing a white tux. The idea remained a great one as such until I got to the bottom of my internal struggle which was the shoes. If there is one thing I hate more than a Toyota Camry, it is the sight of white leather shoes on the feet of a Caucasian male (maybe there is a correlation between white shoes and white Camry’s I don’t know?).

So I am in despair, if I wear black shoes with a white tux I will definitely give away in which part of town I grew up, If I wear brown shoes people might think I’m either colour blind or that I’m an undercover bottle blonde member of the Italian mafia, which brings me back to the white shoes. It didn’t even work for the Soft Cell’s in the 80’s so I think it is naïve of me to think something changed over the past 25 years.

So like Amy Winehouse rightfully say, I’m “back to black” and looking for ideas to differentiate myself from Martino, but I’m not keen on any peach coloured waistbands with matching ties, as one of the shop assistants suggested just before I stormed out of his store!

Any ideas, drop me a line. . .

Pronto 4th Anniversary

So the who’s who got together in one room on Saturday night to celebrate the 4th anniversary of the ever popular Pronto in Craighall Park.

As usual Natasha (the most fabulous hostess in town) lightened up the party, dressed in something most women would kill to fit into. The food once again confirmed the stable values that Pronto got known for. As we lifted our glasses to drink to the next 4 years of success, it ignited an automatic reaction that kept me going for a while which caused a slightly bilious Sunday morning.

Previously on .....

Just to put everything in perspective since the end of Season One of Clueless Conclusions lets just recap a few main pointers. . . . .

Previously on Clueless Conclusions:

-The only unmarried Gouws brother is now officially me, which is obviously starting to raise all kinds of questions which I’m not obliged to give answers to.

-I subsequently moved to Sandton...no I’m not a snob although I have absolutely no problem with enjoying the finer things in life ...this have no relation to the golf clubs that I have in the boot of my car, I still can’t play......

-I had the most awesome vacation in South America where I tried my hand at skiing and realised that I’m not a natural in everything I do, at least I provided some entertainment to the other Eskimos sweeping by down the slopes. I also came to the conclusion that the Argentineans are not all as attractive as they were in that crying movie (maybe they should have rather used Amy Winehouse for the role of Evita instead of Madonna). But now the Brazilians are a totally different story, and boy do they know how to party!

- A cheap fix if you need it, is sleeping pills on an empty stomach followed by a G & T, it makes you see cartoon characters on board of an Airbus A340.

- I had a stalker that turned out into a possible modelling career in swimwear.......watch the billboards.....

-It turns out my maid has got long fingers, and by that I don’t mean she can reach for the last bit of chutney in a Mrs Balls bottle, she can make jewellery disappear. . . at least she can iron!

-Two of my best friends emigrated to Netherland just so that they can fornicate in Vondelpark

-A 60 year old police captain from PE added me on facebook as a friend??

Clueless Conclusion

I’ve heard an interesting saying the other day:
“He who seeks the Lord at the 11th hour, dies at 22h59.....”
Some motivation for the week on a depressing Sunday night......

The One?

Like many things in life, we inherit the belief that there is only one perfect partner for each of us on this earth. I tend to believe that this conviction originated in the same framework as the Christian religion found its rules and regulations. Therefore contesting this statement might also be found to be improper and completely out of line if I were to be found in the company of a no-questions-asked religious individual.

There are roughly 6.6 billion people alive on mother earth. If there is only one person suited for me, what is the probability of me finding that person in my lifetime in Johannesburg? Maybe I’m too cynical but unless we were tagged with some kind of GPS tracking device when we were born, which I doubt was the case as I was born in the early 8Os when Atari TV games was the most advanced technology of the day, there are very little chance of me finding that perfect person.

On the other hand is this maybe the reason why people stay captured in unhappy marriages for decades because they believed the partner was “the one” and he or she did not dare to ask the question? Is it ok to admit he or she was not the one? Maybe you read the signs wrong? But signs can’t be wrong?

So what if Mr/Mrs right never arrives? Are we allowed to settle for second best or must we all join a convent? My question is, is there something like second best? Or are you able to create first prize if both parties are compatible? Are you not in control of your own happiness?

So have I found “The One”? Or will I find out in 30 years it was not the one? Or will I shape the model to suit us best in order to keep the happy side of the scale as high as possible in the air, sounds like the option for me. . . .you might decide to let a good fit pass by, and rather go to church alone while you wait for the chosen one. . . .

Season Premier

Welcome to the first episode of the new season of Clueless Conclusions. This season promise to take on a new course to provide you, the reader with a variety of twists and turns to keep you on the tip of your seat.