Posts Tagged ‘rules’

I didn’t order any pizza, but you look legit. What smells like chloroform?

So on the weekend I decided to order pizza and chill at home because, well I like pizza and it was freezing outside. Why I am justifying my decisions to you? Where were you? You seem to know an awful lot about this Pizza story for an “innocent” bystander.

*deep breath

Okay, let’s start again. I decided to order pizza from the local pizza delivery place and after the 40 minute waiting period I received a phone call from the pizza place saying the delivery boy was outside the gate because the security guard wouldn’t let him up to my place.

Now first of all what is the point of ordering a pizza delivery to avoid going out in the cold, if you still have to go out in the cold. This was particularly strange to me since I had ordered pizza the week before and the delivery boy dropped it off at my place without any issues. What? I like pizza. I went for a run the next day. Stop judging me. I was too hungry to argue with the woman on the phone so I just ran outside to the security gate to pay for my pizza, but before I walked back I asked the security guard why the pizza boy wasn’t allowed past security.

He told me the superintendent of the complex had issued a new order saying that pizza deliveries had to be collected at the front gate. When I asked why this was he said because the superintendent felt that there was a risk of these pizza boys attacking or raping one of the other tenants.


Sure thing…

The 45kg, 16 year old, scooter driving pizza boy is going to attack and rape us.

These kids pretty much get fired for being more than a minute late where the hell are they supposed to fit in the time for some attacking and raping?

How are they even supposed to get into anyone’s apartment?

*knock knock*

“Who is it?”

Pizza delivery”

“We didn’t order any pizza”

“Well can I still come in and attack you… please hurry I have to be at my next delivery in 5 minutes”

Where did the superintendent get the idea that pizza boys are violent sexual deviants unless he watches A LOT of porn?

All of a sudden the superintendent seems way creepier than before. Thanks for ruining pizza for me too, jerk.


Shut up, you smart ass raptor. If you’re so smart why are you extinct? #evolutionburn

Sound advice, I suppose. Until something unfair actually happens to you. This was the advice I was given when I witnessed the worse kind of discrimination in the world… the type that is against me.

I had seen an advertisement for a local comedy competition and being that I was a local comedian, thought I should enter. The competition was held in a dodgy little meeting room in a paint-by-numbers hotel.

The competition seemed fairly well run with the rules being read out, the contestants and judges introduced and the criteria for assessment explained in full. The criteria included content, crowd interaction, originality, body language and use of the floor (as in the space provided – not actual use of the floor in which case levitation would be an immediate disqualification)

The contestants then drew numbers (luckily I had been attending art classes so my drawing skills were pretty good), but regrettably I drew “number 1” which meant I was up first. Once my name was called I stepped up to the stage and performed my 7 minute routine which, at least by my own admission, was stellar.

My confidence was further buoyed by the fact that the next 3 contestants were terrible. Unfunny; nervous; reading off sheets of paper; it was terrible, like watching surgery on a train wreck. So I felt that I had the contest in the bag although there was a bit of apprehension when I saw a bit of “procedural irregularities” occurring during the contest which I will mention after the result which I’m sure you’ve already guessed.

So the winners are announced and for some strange reason they said I was in second. I asked the person next to me if I had heard correctly and then started looking around for hidden cameras because this had to be one of those candid camera reality shows. Alas, nothing.

Now I’ve lost many comedy competitions in my life. I’ll chalk it down to being so ahead of my time that my comedy isn’t understood by most (when in all likelihood I’m just not that funny), but to lose when there was such damningly ridiculous bias made me want to spit.

Allow me to elaborate on those procedural irregularities. The individual who won not only was terrible, her “original” material was to quote the several types of personalities on facebook. I say “quote” as to give her the benefit of the doubt that she was going to give credit to the original authors of the material, but she probably just did that silently afterwards. That’s not even the problem because to get into what is original these days is so subjective that we’d be here for another 10000 pages and still have no resolution.

What was objectively unfair was the fact that one of the judges was her husband.

What made matters worse was… HE WAS BLIND!

Now I’m all for comedy being for everyone and that the disabled should be included, but at what point does it become patently ridiculous to be judged on criteria such as “use of the floor” and “body language” by a blind man?

It gets better… because he couldn’t see what scores he was writing, he would simply tell his wife (the contestant that won) what score to write down.

“Give Gareth a 72%” (she writes 52%)

“Give yourself a 75% (she writes 105%)

The cherry on top was that she read her entire routine… NOT THAT HER HUSBAND THE JUDGE WOULD’VE KNOWN!!!!


Life’s not fair… get over it… well I’m tired of “getting over it”

Face the fact, people love zombies, not “love” in a teenager “say anything to exchange bodily fluids sort of way” more in a “love observing violent animals in zoos sort of way” (sooo cuddly!) Why is it that we are fascinated by the thought that one day the entire world will be overrun by bloodthirsty rotting corpses with the insatiable appetite for brain salad? Is it the subtle theme that we are all indeed “zombies” marching around soullessly in our meaningless corporate existence or is it just the idea of running through the streets waving a chainsaw around, carrying more ammunition than redneck on payday, while our boss gets his leg chewed off by zombie accountants?

Regardless, “Zombie culture” is as massive as “Bieber Fever” and only half as brainless. Spawning hundreds of movies, TV series and games, zombie-lore has developed several rules some of which have been modified to suit changes in societal tastes (insert remark about different recipes for Brains here) while others have remained steadfast.
So “what are the rules?” you may ask as if to gather vital information, but instead interrupting the flow of this article which I will have to use as a segue to the next paragraph (sneaky, I know). The rules are as follows…

1) Outbreaks of Zombie-ism (it’s a word now) are usually caused by some sort of virus – Sometimes unleashed by some sort of biblically prophesised verse (although I don’t remember anything in Sunday school about “Then zombies came and they did eat the brains of the living. Amen”), but usually the virus is manmade and cooked up in some laboratory by some corporation as a biological weapon or artificial sweetener, where of course, “nothing could never possibly not go wrong”.

2) While the Zombie outbreak will initially be caused by the disease/virus/military-grade artificial sweetener, the outbreak will reach epidemic proportions once the newly zombified (also a word now) members of society start chewing down on each other’s “thinky-bits” resulting in more zombies. This equates to the dumbest form of procreation that evolution has ever managed to spit out of the primordial soup where an organism whose only method of procreation is also its key source of food. Talk about not being able to have your cake and eat it… where the cake is both your only source of nourishment, as well as for fornication and the preservation of your species – but you try telling that to my nephew after I ruined his birthday party.

3) Zombies can survive pretty much anything except severe damage to their brains or having their heads separated from their bodies (it also appears to work vice versa). As satisfying as it may be to kick your zombified former boss in his nuts this will not stop him lurching towards you to suck your brains out of your skull (I call those “weekdays”). Rather shoot him in the head… then kick him in the nuts.

4) Zombies’ movement abilities are one of those rules that has changed over the course of time. Originally slow lumbering corpses with the mental capacity of soggy toast and the athletic ability of a drunk blind man wearing rollerblades made of banana skins (elaborate analogy, I know) zombies have never been too difficult to outmanoeuvre (except for a certain group of dancing zombies in Michael Jackson thriller video). However, some movies and games decided that slow moving corpses wasn’t exciting enough so instead introduces zombies as feral, bloodthirsty savages with the unnerving speed and strength of a crack addict where your skull is filled with white powder and shiny things. The need to shoot for the head with these guys becomes even more necessary as the ol’ “kick the guy in the nuts and run” technique is going to get you a bite mark shaped haircut.

These are just a few of the rules for surviving a zombie holocaust… stay tuned for more and keep those tasty brains of yours safe.

I’m a huge fan of tattoos. Well, let me be more accurate. I’m a skinny 6 foot tall fan of tattoos. Wait I can be more precise. I’m a skinny 6 foot tall fan of good tattoos. Trust me it’s important to be accurate with that opening statement (not so much my physical appearance, but that the word “good” is included) as there are unfortunately more bad tattoos than good going around and I have to say it doesn’t do the medium any good (there’s that word again).

Tattoos have come a long way since the tribal rituals where they started and now it’s not only indigenous warriors and seedy bikers that sport personalised ink, but “regular” people and you and I. I’m glad that they no longer have the stigma of being undesirable and taboo. I love that anyone can go get inked without fear of reprisal. My only concern is that certain people should perhaps not be allowed to make such permanent decisions.

Tattoos can be seen everywhere from mullet wearing white trash; to teeny skanks; to celebrities. They’ve become as common as common nouns (sorry couldn’t think of anything more common). But what strikes me is just how common some tattoos are. Every teeny skank seems to have some sort of flowery “tramp stamp” on their lower back. Every roid-raged gym freak seems to have some sort of tribal design on their rippling bicep or some Chinese symbol that is mistranslated.

Despite the fact that these tattoos appear generic and “cookie cutter” choices from a catalogue, to the bearer they always have very personal meanings. I do suggest you ask someone what their tattoo means to them it can be quite entertaining. For example: “What does that Chinese symbol mean?” “Well, its supposed to be a star, but it’s smudged so it looks like a Chinese symbol, but it’s cool ‘cos I frikken love Chinese food.”

Or ask some slutty 18 year old why she chose the butterfly flower “tramp stamp”. “Well, um yeah, its super hot, and like guys will totally be checking out my tattoo, and be like, wow, she’s totally hot and stuff. Plus I think butterflies are totally cool how they turn from like worms that are totally gross to butterflies that are like totally cool and stuff. Kind of like me, ‘cept I was never gross.” (and stuff)

To prevent these people making a poor life choice I (beyond the inevitable like teenage pregnancy and letting MacGyver be your fashion icon) have developed the soon to be mandatory Gareth Tattoo Rules (more flashy and marketable name coming soon). Essentially the rules consist of three major pieces.

Rule number 1 – let your first tattoo be small. Too many times have I see people (most often men) be inspired by one too many kung fu or prison films and decide that their first tattoo should be a full back piece or the architectural blueprints of a maximum security prison (thanks prison break!) This is not a good idea for several reasons. Firstly, maybe one should decide if you can actually take the pain of getting a tattoo before you turn your entire body into a canvas, as I have seen plenty of half completed “masterpieces” that are left incomplete as the pain was too much to bear (either that or they’re buying it on an installment plan).

Another reason, and this links into rule number 2 – let your first tattoo be discreet; as inspirational as Yakuza and gang leaders may be perhaps getting a full body or face tattoo as your first tattoo is not perhaps the best way to show the accounting firm that you work at how much of a “free spirit” you are. Maybe a goatie or off colour tie is a little bit more appropriate while you’re deciding how much you want to rock the corporate boat.

Rule number 3 – the 10 year rule. This rule relates to the content of the tattoo and is pretty simply. Just think about what you want to get as your first tattoo. Maybe you’re 20 like I was when I got my first tattoo. Now think about what you thought was cool ten years ago. Well when I was 10 the teenage mutant ninja turtles were the coolest thing around. But if I had a TNMT tattoo right now I could pretty much assure you that I would be a 20 something year old virgin. So before you get that Justin Bieber or Rebecca Black or Ben Ten tattoo (or whatever is “cool” these days) just think about how cool a 30 year old with a “Bieber Fever” tattoo is going to be.

These of course are not the only rules you should adhere to when getting a tattoo. There are several others regarding where you should go, how you should look after them and various others. But I hope that these three will at least lessen the amount of evil (bad tattoos) in the world.

I’m a pretty big fan of rugby, which I know is a completely unheard of declaration here in South Africa, but I mean it. I watch every game I can; I follow up with news reports, forums, the late night talk shows, the fantasy leagues, the sports prediction games. I do it all, often to the detriment of my career and relationships.

However, through all this loyalty and support that I have for the game that has brought me such joy and such sweet agony (I’m a sharks fan, need I say more), there is one thing that I just don’t understand about the game of rugby.

Why the hell do we give William Webb Ellis so much credit for being the founder of the sport? The world cup trophy is even named after him. He will forever live on as a visionary and a leader. Someone who never conformed to the norms of society and who when faced with adversity took the ball by the hands and ran towards his goal.

In the meantime, the truth remains that while playing a game of soccer, some douche bag little kid decided that he was tired of playing fairly and so picked up the ball and ran with it. I’m pretty sure the guys he was playing with weren’t exactly in awe of his sudden creativity. They probably thought “Oh great! William’s throwing a tantrum again. If it weren’t for the fact that he was the only one who owned a soccer ball, we wouldn’t ever invite him to play with us.”

And the legend goes that his friends decided to “play along” and tried tackling him as he tried to run the soccer ball towards the goal (while the truth is more likely that they were trying to kick his ass for spoiling their game). All because of some good PR, he gets known as the first ever rugby player, instead of the worst ever soccer player (and a spoilt brat)

Even he doesn’t think he invented rugby. In the moment that his team was losing and he was tired of playing by the rules, he didn’t quickly design a new game to play instead. He petulantly picked up the ball and tried to run away, probably whining “fine, if you guys won’t let me win, then I’m taking my ball home and telling my dad”.

Yet here we are today, in the year of a world cup, when all the best rugby playing nations in the world will compete to be the owner’s of the William Webb Ellis Trophy (if they only knew).

I just hope this kid didn’t continue throughout his life messing with the rules in the hope of creating something new because it’s a terrible example for others.

When I see someone do something stupid in traffic, like driving on the wrong side of the road, or knocking over pedestrians or just generally breaking the rules of the road, I don’t think to myself: “What a creative individual, refusing to be bogged down by the constraints of modern societal norms”. I think “What a complete ****”.

I love rugby, but I am quite proud to say that some punk kid who refused to play soccer by the rules did not invent the game. All he did was mess up a really good game of soccer.