You might remember an article I created out of thin air about the Gucci handbag. Using a recently sent in photo of a young lady as proof, I was, at the time, contending the validity of the adage, "money can't buy you happiness". The photo was of an ecstatic Lisa J opening up her new Gucci handbag.
Antagonists will argue that the happiness was surely short lived.
Incorrect, my little friend - I will stop you right there and remind you that the aforementioned article was written in October of this year.
I have, right here, a photo taken just yesterday. The very same handbag and the very same picture of happiness, made it across the Atlantic Ocean and into The Safe House in Camps Bay.
Have a look at this picture of pure joy! Glorious!
Over two months down the line, courtesy of Gucci.
The happiness that money bought, continues!
We can now therefore prove that money not only BUYS happiness, but it KEEPS ON GIVING!
Now let's just back the fuck up here for a second. To the guys out there - let's do a couple of sums. Take the semi-expensive price you paid for her shoes the other day. Or the digital camera that you thought was excessive. Then, tell me how long it took for her to turn on you like an Alsatian again? A day? A week? I don't know the answer to that, but I'm as sure as fuck it wasn't over two months! The proof is right above, friends. This is the result if you stick your necks out a bit and pay that "exorbitant" price for a little piece of magic - because that is what you're buying - pure magic!
You'll find that the same antagonists have never owned a brand new piece of (genuine) high end fashion, let alone felt such a symbol of extravagance with their bare hands. Any pundit will tell you that these objects of desire do not come from just any sweatshops. The magic behind the glorious brands of the mighty houses of Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Prada, Chanel, Christian Dior, Dolce & Gabbana, Burberry, Versace and the like, is due to them employing only the youngest and hardworking Cambodian, Korean and Chinese children - with only the smallest hands and little fingers. Hands and fingers necessary for such intricate detail - detail that will be lost on the fakes you see floating around.
Whilst on the subject, team - do not be impressed by fakes which managed to incorporate the right print, or the right stamp, or the right link, or the right zip. We are not impressed by such attention to detail when copying. Even when they get it right, something will be missing - the correct weight for example - it will just never be the same item. Were you impressed with the kid at school who good draw the best? Or were you impressed with the kid who could trace over another picture the best? So you also tried to trace and you noticed that you were also very good at it. Next thing you knew, the whole class was very good at tracing. It was probably at that exact moment that you started to have a whole new appreciation and respect for the original kid who could draw well without tracing. That kids name was probably something like Gucci, or Prada.
You don't get points for good fakes. The better the fake, the dirtier you feel inside. You'll get points for finding a good bargain, or sale, or secret store overseas - but fakes don't get points.
I'll tell you something else I'm sure of that nobody has cared to mention:
On this penultimate day of the year, I can report that our favourite little nymphomaniac has arrived in Sydney. Hilts will spend her time selecting the face of a local beer, Bondi Blonde, before attending a New Year's bash - all for the princessly sum of One Meeeelion Dollars.
This will only annoy the Paris Hilton haters even more. Personally I don't think it's a big deal. I get free bottles of french champagne at Caprice when I go there so it would be wrong of me to judge Hilts for abusing the situation.
Bondi beach lost its mind as Hilts tanned, swam and then ended off with a pornographic shower in front of thousands of mental Ozzies and holiday makers. Fuck, she cracks me up! And I'm fine with the Louis cozzie.
Ozzie males hard-code the spectacle into their wank banks.
I would say that Prada's clever arms with varying frames played a role in their very obvious majority chunk of the Atlantic Seaboard's sunglasses market share this season. Versace came in late with the Kim Jong il range of shades with the stretched-triangle arms (includes the Versace 2034b's, which I'm fine with) and were therefore relegated to third place by the deafening influx of Dior's new range featuring the hollow "D" at the front of the arm, linking to the frame. Some of them are a complete fuckshow with the entire arm being made up of the letters "DIOR", joined together, forming the arm. Are you with me? "DIOR" is not WRITTEN ON the arm - the letters ARE the arm! Not good. Don't buy those. Pull out. Cancel. Cancel!
I must stop talking about Dior because my P.A. wears Dior (Dior "Glossy 1's" - fine) and I am reminded how she has gone AWAY for the week and has rendered me useless. I even had to answer my phone this morning. It's all work, and no P.A. around here. Come back, Piglet, all is forgiven.
James Brown is dead.
A "season's greetings" group-sms infested (Merry Merries and happy happies and a blessed 2007 and a wank this and a wank that) Christmas morning included breakfast at Caprice with the Fabrics Guy which ended at 12h00. It was only then that we realised how silly it was to have eaten breakfast at Caprice when we would have to return only moments later for our 1pm Christmas lunch booking. Lunch included 10 of us orphans who had no parents in town. It lasted from 1pm to 2am. That's 13 hours. Taking into account the breakfast earlier, you're looking at 15 hours of mayhem. That's not bad going. Dave.
Caprice sunset, Christmas Day, 2006.
Frankincense, mehr and tequila
I would have been there longer and am the first to admit that it was foolish of me to misinterpret an sms saying "Call it, or I'm going home", as anything more than an invite to enter into high level discussions about respect and the fact that I never called. Sorry for the confusion - my fault. Apologies to the crew at Cappers for sneaking off like that - I shouldn't have chosen a 1-stop strategy.
Best T-shirt of the day - "I am not a football player ".
Apart from a 12 hour sleep and an audience with The Comeback Kid's kid, the whistle stop tour to Hermanus for the night of the 26th offered dinner conversation laced with some wonderful insight into the inner workings (or lack thereof) of one our more over-exposed local "celebs". I'll let you work it out. Which apostle recently took a young lady on a date to Wakame and, when it came time to order the main course, snatched the menu out of her hands before she could chose her meal and declared, "I pay, I order!"? You know who it is. Pick him.
"I pay, I order". Are you fucking kidding me?
I'm playing entire albums at the moment and, having just finished Prince, am now moving over to Chris Isaak. Isaak's 'Wicked Game' just seems to work as I gaze over Cape Town's Mighty Atlantic Seaboard (CTMAS). CTMAS - that's how you spell 'XMAS' if you're spending it in Cape Town. Because it's not like someone else's XMAS, it's XMAS in Cape Town. Those who've done it, know it. And they all agree - as cheesy as it sounds, there is just something in the air. It's a photoshopped wonderland and it's fucking wild. I have lived here my whole life and done good time overseas. Believe me, you will never come across another city in the World whose inhabitants and visitors spend more time discussing how incredible it is to live and visit there, as you do in Cape Town. Look, make no error, I've had a couple of joints and a bottle of wine on my own in The Safe House and I'm getting emotional. But a quick glance at my options on this (again) perfect day in Cape Town, proves my point.
At this exact moment in time, I could be having a boozy lunch with The UK Entertainment Guy and family at a restaurant in the middle of the world famous Groot Constantia vineyards. I could even be with The Stockbroker on the pool deck of the Fresnaye pad. The C.A. beckoned for a session on Camps Bay beach with 28 degree heat and a metallic blue ocean that I want inside me. Big H put in an invite to the pool at Number 1 Chapman's Peak - over the rocks, with the ocean ten meters below. I got up too late to join The Kitesurfer for a trip on the boat to get some crayfish for dinner, so that's out of the question. And, to top things off, Nick Goldblatt threatened Caprice - but I don't know if I can handle the attention. "Seth is actually very shy", they'll tell you - those who know. Those who know the lonely, frightened little only-child, who hides behind the cool, tanned, sex robot image that was created as a defense mechanism to overcome the confusion created by the constant tirade aimed at me as they try, uninvited, to get inside my mind, to give me something that they know I secretly long for - love.
Now, let's get those panties off, darling.
As the sun sets on the fourth last day of the year (I wish it was the second last day so that I could have used the word "penultimate") I have decided to spend it here, in The Safe House - with the so called "internet" at my fingertips, the new 2.5m sofa under my ass, the Sony Bravia on the wall and CTMAS sprawled before me.
Today we detox.
Today we reflect.
Today, is just another day.
Amen.
(Mum, I was only kidding about the "joints" earlier in the story - I just say that because people think its cool)
I stopped by James Stewart's studio the other day as he recorded another track that e refused to 'lay down' without hearing what I thought of it. It was good. Again. But while I was there I saw a CD lying on the table called "Boogie Woogie Christmas". I couldn't help myself. I stole it.
I took it home.
I listened to it.
I enjoyed it. With the flood of revolting Christmas themed music we HAVE to listen to at this stage of the year, James has certainly not let the team down.
So I ripped the song into digital format.
And now I am giving it to you.
Do not hesitate people, my favourite Christmas tune this year is now available to you!
You're probably still reeling from the article I wrote last week which showed a photograph of an estate agent's car with his very own face printed on the side of his vehicle.
Further thought on the matter has resulted in conversation about what, exactly, was/is going through our boy's mind. An email from a reader has provided a new piece to the puzzle.
Dear Seth,
I read your article about that estate agent with his face on the side of his car and was perplexed, to say the least. I couldn't leave it at that. I wanted to know more about this animal. I took the liberty of finding his official photograph on the Re/max real estate website. Turns out his name is "Chyren".
Please see the attachment and I look forward to your thoughts.
Sam L
Chyren - the brand
Two words:
Good
Lord
Two other words - hand, chin.
I think it's pretty clear what we're dealing with here. Chyren has obviously attended some sort of a conference where you are taught about networking and creating a "brand" out of yourself. I'm not saying it's a good or a bad thing, but I'll tell you one thing, our boy has taken the bull by the fucking horns.
Marina Eichler has once again shown the great demand for her event and marketing solutions, as she tackles one of Cape Town's premier events, the Mount Nelson New Years Party - and this time they're not fucking around.
Both Marina and the Mount Nelson are old friends of 2oceansvibe so we simply have to tell you about their plans. A five course menu, live bands, intelligent lighting, liquid chefs and more have been lined up for this upmarket R950 a head "cocktail-chic" event. If you were smart you would get this sorted out immediately. Then it's done. Then you can relax, safe in the knowledge that you have won the New Years game. You're the best. You win.
"What are you doing for New Years?"
"Mount Nelson"
"Jesus!"
"I know - I rock!"
With launches including Figaro, Forty Ate and the International Elle Deco Design Awards at the CTICC under her belt, we have no doubt Marina and Showcase will put on a display second to none.
Click HERE to find out more about Showcase and what they can offer your company.
Click the Mount Nelson flyer at the top to get more info about the Mount Nelson New Years bash.
Estate agents lose all sense of......everything, really [permalink]
I have seen some things in my short time on planet earth and am usually able to get my head around most things. Even things that I don't agree with, come with SOME reasoning. Suicide bombers for example - it's not a good vibe they're going for, but we know they have been trained in a certain way and believe that paradise and virgins await them after they push the button. That is their belief and at least we have SOME understanding of why they do what they do.
But then I stumble upon this in the Llandudno car park this weekend and I realise that there are some things that one simply cannot get one's head around.
What?
Are you fucking serious?
And there you have it. An incredibly confusing thing has just appeared before you. What are you meant to do about it? God only knows. I wouldn't think about it too much if I were you. Just shake your head and move on. If you start to think of simple questions like "why" or "what-the-fuck", your head could very easily explode. It's almost as dangerous as when you start to think about what the point is of living this life. You must change the subject before your head explodes.
I can sort of work with the concept of estate agents having their face on their business cards, but this..... this is just too much.
What I've done here is I have put the Tuesday Tabs up on Wednesday morning. But I have changed the date to yesterday's date - thus tricking you into thinking that I must have put it up quite late on Tuesday night. I know, it's quite sneaky sneaky. It's season time and it's bloody crazy in Cape Town. But look, at least you can get an up to date look at the state of Sharon Stone.
She's 48 at the moment and I'm fine with her vibe. Obviously keep this in mind before you have a go at Shazza for the small amount of muffin top above her costume.
I received contact today from the people's Springbok, AJ Venter. It seems that, whilst AJ is yet to have his moment with the TBG, he does somehow feel connected to the great man. I won't say anymore. The beauty of AJ is you DON'T have to say anymore. He does it all himself. He gift wraps it for you. If I may:
Hi there, I was scanning over the 2oceansvibe website the other day like I do every day and I was gobsmacked to see that the TBG was wearing a shirt same as one of mine in my wardrobe. At that moment I felt that somehow I am linked to the TBG, I bought that shirt in a small shop in London, and what are the chances that a celebrity like him would wear the same brand as me.
So I included this photo to show you that I now feel that there is hope in this world and that I want to thank the TBG for making my day, Thank you Seth.
AJ Venter
AJ Venter
Ecstatic
What an incredible moment. I don't quite know what to say. I think you are definitely right, AJ. It seems you DO, in fact, have the same T-shirt as the TBG and I can fully understand and imagine how blown away you must have been when you found this out. Well, I don't have to imagine - your photograph pretty much says it all. I agree with you, there IS hope in this world.
The TBG, wearing the same T-shirt as AJ Venter
It really is the same T-shirt! I can't believe it! That is so weird, AJ. I think has happened for a reason. You could be like a TBG double. Like if the TBG wants to sneak into a nightclub, you could run and side-step in the other direction so people follow you, thinking that you are the TBG. Obviously you'll both be wearing the Lucky 7 T-shirts.
Or if they one day decide to make a movie about the TBG's life (that's if they ever find out what makes him tick), they could use AJ to play his part.
That's right, the "cute" little relationship between Rachel Bilson and Adam Brody has reached its final curtain. Cheers, Adam, thanks for the good times. Rache, we missed you, angel.
Rachel Bilson - Seth's 'look' at the moment
Can't say I'm too perturbed. Rachel Bilson is EXACTLY my look at the moment. I thought we would celebrate with a new photo gallery addition to the site. Please enjoy close to 50 pics of the gorgeous angel:
I was just watching SKY news and they were chatting to a "Space EXPERT".
A space EXPERT, you say?
Hmm, three words : BULLSHIT, BULLSHIT, BULLSHIT!
Surely no-one can be an actual SPACE expert?
I mean, really!!
I think we all agree what the first two questions would be that we would ask a so called "Space EXPERT" if we ever ran into someone so highly qualified in the great unknown.
"Hi, Space EXPERT, tell me, where do black holes lead to"?
SPACE EXPERT: "I Don't know"
"Good. Ok. Fine. Tell me this then, how wide is the solar system? SPACE EXPERT: "I Don't know"
My point exactly. You're not a fucking EXPERT and you never will be. No one is an ACTUAL space EXPERT.
An expert is someone with a great amount of knowledge in a particular field. Whilst our boy might know MORE than others, I would say, given the size of the solar system, that his knowledge is pretty fucking limited. I am sure your GENERAL KNOWLEDGE is good, but you're not an EXPERT.
At best, you're a fucking space CADET.
The "Crab Nebula"
CLAP CLAP! Well done!
How wide is the solar system, A-hole?
There is no mistaking the icon - even from the back [permalink]
Once again we see how obvious it is when one is in the presence of the great icon. Here we see the TBG (Tall Blonde Guy) at Kirstenbosch Gardens, during the Goldfish concert. We can't see his face, but there is no mistaking that sheer height and those gorgeous, glowing golden locks.
This, just in from Mikaela B:
Hi Seth!
It's definitely him! I spotted him watching the Goldfish concert at Kirstenbosch. You don't even need to see his face, not even his side profile, to know it's the TBG. Now that's special!
Mikaela B
There is no mistaking the great symbol of hope
The TBG, imbibing a beer.
So that we may live.
You're absolutely right, Mikaela! You DON'T need to see his face, nor his profile. It is not necessary. The aura permeating from his god-like body would have been more than sufficient confirmation that you were in his presence. You would have also, no doubt, felt a little horny all of a sudden. This is normal too. It is no secret that women lose control over their bodies when near to the riddle that is the TBG.
Our latest Tuesday Tabs ever. Put up at 20h45 on Tuesday 5 December. It's embarrasingly late. But it's fine. It's Tuesday. It's fine. We win! You win!
NSFW.
Pressers - fine
FURTHERMORE: Nadine B writes in to tell us that Jaime Presley can be seen naked for much of the movie entitled: Poison Ivy: The New Seduction. Thanks Nadz.
Sightings continue from Rocking The Daisies festival over a month ago [permalink]
I cannot believe that there were even MORE hearts that were touched by the emblem of all things good, God's servant, The TBG (Tall Blonde Guy), during his time at the Rocking The Daisies concert.
Here we see not one, not two, but three souls warmed by his presence. Andrew D had this to say:
Dear Mr Editor,
After weeks of missioning to find this picture i eventually have it!! The TBG!!! spotted at Rocking The Daisies. It would be a honor if you could post this picture on your website as i have been searching for the Tall Blonde Guy for quite a while now and finally i got him on the dance floor pissed at Rocking The Daisies.
Order of appearance from left to right "Lari, Ross, TBG!!!!!, Rawbs
Regards
Andrew
Verbally excited, visually excited, The TBG, and dumbstruck
Sorry, I couldn't resist that first line. It was in my head and I wrote it down. Normally I wouldn't have done so, because it's not funny at all. It's nothing. It's useless. But then I remembered that sometimes, when a similar uttering HAS manage to slip past quality control, you seem to enjoy it anyway! So I'm just going to say anything that comes to mind from now on.
FUCK!
SHIT!
COCK!
BALLS!
I'm joking. CHRIST!
This article was originally called "LOVE - FRIEND OR FOE?", before I wrote that stupid line at the top about scratching the surface. I can't continue - nay start - with the LOVE story because now I've fucked it completely. It was going to be quite an intense article. One that will be read for years to come. Probably a classic. A classic couldn't have this kind of bullshit rambling as a fucking prologue!
I will start a fresh article now and change the heading of this story. I will call this article "Ramble Abrahams" and stop right this very second.
[thanks to Judah and de la Soul for supporting me during the last half an hour]
If only I could plug you all into my head. Then you would enjoy all the wonderful articles I intend to write, but never do. It's not that I don't want to, it's just hard sometimes. Sometimes the laptop is too far away from my hands. Sometimes I'm too tired. Sometimes I'm too pissed.
For example I was going to do a whole article about how South Africa's Rugby First Team, The Springboks, beat The Earth this weekend. And, in particular, I wanted to focus on the incredible number of blowjobs that 19-year-old Francois Steyn must be getting, being one of our hottest players. Look, it won't be as many as Goldfish get after their gigs, but keep in mind that there are two guys in Goldfish. Good work, Francois.
It's blowjob city, and Francois is the mayor
But I didn't have the strength to do a WHOLE article on that, so I thought I would focus on something else. Yesterday's rain (don't tell the ex-pats) caused a cancellation of McCully Workshop's concert at Kirstenbosch. Not only were we starved of being entertained by South Africa's original rock stars, but we also missed out on a cover they had apparently rehearsed - Nights in White Satin by The Moody Blues. A powerhouse song which McCully would have cleaned up. And so, this morning, I bring you the lyrics:
Nights in White Satin by The Moody Blues
Nights in white satin,
Never reaching the end,
Letters I've written,
Never meaning to send.
Beauty Id always missed
With these eyes before,
Just what the truth is
I cant say anymore.
cause I love you, (POWER)
Yes, I love you,
Oh, how, I love you.
Gazing at people,
Some hand in hand,
Just what I'm going thru
They can understand.
Some try to tell me
Thoughts they cannot defend,
Just what you want to be
You will be in the end,
And I love you,
Yes, I love you,
Oh, how, I love you.
Oh, how, I love you.
Nights in white satin,
Never reaching the end,
Letters I've written,
Never meaning to send.
Beauty Id always missed
With these eyes before,
Just what the truth is
I cant say anymore.
cause I love you,
Yes, I love you,
Oh, how, I love you.
Oh, how, I love you.
cause I love you,
Yes, I love you,
Oh, how, I love you.
Oh, how, I love you.
And for those of you who know the bizarre monologue at the end of the song - here it is:
Breath deep
The gathering gloom
Watch lights fade
From every room
Bedsitter people
Look back and lament
Another day's useless
Energy spent
Impassioned lovers
Wrestle as one
Lonely man cries for love
And has none
New mother picks up
And suckles her son
Senior citizens
Wish they were young
Cold hearted orb
That rules the night
Removes the colours
From our sight
Red is gray and
Yellow white
But we decide
Which is right
And
Which is an Illusion
Please come pick it up in front of the lighthouse [permalink]
It sits directly in front of the 2oceansvibe HQ and, quite frankly, gets in the way. When I conceptualise and do my various brain exercises which produces fine bits of drivel, I need complete clarity which can only be achieved with unobstructed views over the mighty Atlantic Ocean. This boat, "TSAVLIRIS" is exactly the opposite of what I need. It is exactly the opposite of what you need, as its presence effects my writing.
Very annoying
Tsavliris - Russian for "annoying"
The boat sat in the exact same spot for the whole of last week. By the Thursday I had one of the angels call the Cape Town Port Master to ask if someone had, perhaps, lost their boat. If it wasn't lost then I wanted to know what the fuck it was doing here and how long it would be here for.
The angel reported back that it was, in fact, a Russian tug boat. Oh! Russian you say!? And there I was thinking that "Tsavliris" was an Afrikaans word that Meneer forgot to teach us at school.
So it's a Russian tugboat (enjoy this), waiting for work. That's it! It's just fucking anchored in front of 2oceansvibe HQ, waiting for stuff to do. But it doesn't get much work so it just fucking sits. Are there people on board? Who knows! How long will they be there for? Who knows! The Port Master sure as hell didn't know.
But then, on Saturday, it was gone. I was over the bloody moon. I was also upset, because I wanted to write this article. But, nevertheless, the blip on my horizon was gone.
But Seth was WRONG! The mother fucker is BACK, and he's BAD. He has been here since Tuesday and doesn't look like he is leaving.
Can you guys not go and park somewhere else? Why did you come back to the exact same spot? Are you looking at me? Is that why you're here? Piss off, man! Don't you want to check out a bit of Sea Point? Or the Waterfront? Or Scarborough? Or, better yet, Take a cruise around the corner to Kommetjie and check out what's going on at Fleck's house. Get the binocs out - you'll be in awe.
But seriously, you can't just sit there waiting for work. It's very annoying. Go away. Please.
[In other news, please enjoy the constant "God, can you believe it's December already! God, how time flies" chit-chat that we have to endure now that we have entered December. "I KNOW!!! Can you BELIEVE IT!!!!". Ahh fuck off, man!]
I really have to apologise to the new readers who started reading 2oceansvibe in the last week and may well think that we are nothing more than a smut showcase. I must stress that this is a highly intellectual, topical, informative website which generally oozes a careful mix of class, culture and humour. It just so happens that Britney Spears chose this week to team up with Hilts and get totally rat-fucked every day of the week in Vegas - resulting in these photographs. I haven't actually looked directly at the photographs and am certainly not impressed that they were taken in the first place. Nonetheless, it is my duty to you to publish these shots.
Click each one but PLEASE be very careful - these are very much NSFW.
Quite stunning, really! I had a multitude of pics from this year's Victoria's Secret Fashion Show and I never really quite knew what to do with them. But then I got an email from The Lawyer with a link to one of the biggest bunches of pics from the show that I have ever seen. Dat ek al ooit gesien het.
I'll warm you up with these puppies and then you can click the link.
