Please note that this is not meant to condescend to any specific group of South Africans, its merely a humorous look at one of the accents in South Africa…
Beck - not the front
Beds - doves, vultures, etc.
Ben - to set alight
Cut - a small vehicle drawn by a donkey
Errors - districts, e.g. “Ebbon errors” (urban areas)
Feather - implies distance – Cape Town is feather than Johannesburg
Guddin – around your house, where you grow plunts
Get - a hinged opening in a fence
Hair - as opposed to him
Hiss - masculine form of hairs
Itch - as in “itch and aviary pairsin”
Kennel - Army officer
Len - to acquire knowledge
Pee-Pull – Die Mense / people
Phlegm – the hot part at the end of a candle
Piss - symbolised by white doves
Suffa-Ring - as in “the pee-pull are suffa-ring”
Parrot Teksi - not a mamba of the teksi assoseshen
I’m getting ready for the weekend, and really cannot wait until 5pm. It has been a long week for me, and the rest is going to do me a whole lot of good. Like I said, I’m going to play games. But I might watch a movie or two, plus I have to do some filing.
Hope you have a fabulous weekend! Check back with ya on Monday
Here’s something to start the weekend with…
Question: What is the truest definition of Globalization?
Answer: Princess Diana’s death.
Question: How come?
Answer: An English princess with an Egyptian boyfriend crashes in a French tunnel, driving a German car with a Dutch engine, driven by a Belgian who was drunk on Scottish whisky, (check the bottle before you correct me on the spelling) followed closely by Italian Paparazzi, on Japanese motorcycles; treated by an American doctor, using Brazilian medicines.
This was posted by an African, using Bill Gates’ – (an American)technology, and you’re probably reading this on your computer, that use Taiwanese chips, and a Korean monitor, assembled by Bangladeshi workers in a Singapore plant, transported by Indian lorry-drivers, hijacked by Indonesians, unloaded by Pakistani men, and trucked to you by Mexicans.
I thought I’d entertain you with this since I don’t have much time to post. We’re in our pre-release cycle at work which means I’m working like a mad person. Hope to post some TEXT soon
Yes, we all knows we have to recycle – paper, glass, who know what else, so here I’m going to make my contribution and recycle an old post Thanks to Bethwho tagged me, I bring to you the bit below from a post I did about a year ago (June,20th – 2006)
“Life is all about ass” You’re either covering it, laughing it off, kicking it, kissing it, busting it, trying to get a piece of it, or behaving like it!
And now, for the ones who are to be tagged…. I present to you
Most of you have read the scare-mail about the person whose kidneys were stolen while he was passed out. Well, read on. While the kidney story was an urban legend, this one is not. It’s happening every day.
My thighs were stolen from me during the night a few years ago. It was just
that quick. I went to sleep in my body and woke up with someone else’s thighs. The new ones had the texture of cooked oatmeal. Who would have done such a cruel thing to legs that had been mine for years? Whose thighs were these and what happened to mine? Hurt and angry, I resigned myself to living out my life in jeans and Sheer Energy pantyhose. Then, just when my guard was down, the thieves struck again.
My butt was next. I knew it was the same gang, because they took pains to match my new rear end to the thighs they stuck me with earlier. I couldn’t believe that my new butt was attached at least three inches lower than my
original. Now, my rear complemented my legs, lump for lump. Frantic, I prayed that long skirts would stay in fashion It was two years ago when I realized my arms had been switched. One morning I was fixing my hair and I watched horrified but fascinated as the flesh of my upper arms swung to and fro with the motion of the hairbrush. This was really getting scary. My body was being replaced one section at a time. How clever and fiendish.
Age? Age had nothing to do with it. Age is supposed to creep up, unnoticed, something like maturity. NO, I was being attacked repeatedly and without warning. In despair, I gave up my T-shirts.
What could they do to me next?
My poor neck suddenly disappeared faster than the Thanksgiving turkey it now resembled. That’s why I decided to tell my story. I can’t take on the medical profession by myself. Women of the world, wake up and smell the
coffee. That really isn’t plastic that those surgeons are using.
You KNOW where they are getting those replacement parts, don’t you? The next time you suspect someone has had a face “lifted,” look again. Was it lifted from you? I think I finally found my thighs – and I hope that Cindy Crawford paid a really good price for them!
This is not a hoax. This is happening to women in every town every night. WARN YOUR FRIENDS!
P.S. I must say that last year I thought someone had stolen my breasts. I was lying in bed and they were gone! As I jumped out of bed, I was relieved to see that they had just been hiding in my armpits as I slept.
I urgently needed a few days off work, but I knew the Boss would not allow me to take leave . I thought that maybe if I acted “CRAZY” then he would tell me to take a few days off.
So I hung upside down on the ceiling and made funny noises. My co-worker (who’s blond) asked me what I was doing. I told her that I was pretending to be a light bulb so that the Boss would think I was “CRAZY” and give me a few days off.
A few minutes later the Boss came into the office and asked “What are you doing?” I told him I was a light bulb.
He said, “You are clearly stressed out. Go home and recuperate for a couple of days.” I jumped down and walked out of the office.
When my co-worker (the blonde) followed me, the Boss asked her “…And where do you think you’re going?”
(You’re gonna love this…..)
She said, “I’m going home too, I can’t work in the dark.”
What goes wrong in a person’s life for them to be passionate about “dropping & tuning“? I’m not talking about “Pimp My Ride” – those people make the cars they work on look like something. This morning whilst being in traffic (one of the places where I think most), I saw an Opel Kadett which was “dropped and tuned“. I cannot fathom what those people think. To spend money to make their cars look that way.
The registration plate at the back was somehow lower than what it should be. The paint looked like silver smudged nail paint. The back lights were not red and orange, but white – which would be fine for any decent car, if it was DESIGNED like that, but not on a nineteen voetsek Kadett! In the corners of the headlights there are little blue lights. What the hell for, I don’t know. As in the example photo, it had horrific looking “side skirts”, and plastic spinning “bling-bling” hubcaps. The worst was the “Blue Bulls” bumper sticker.
I understand that I’m not the sports fan that a lot of people out there are, but bumper stickers are one of my pet hates. Seeing that poor Kadett being humiliated like that evoked emotions in me that concur with words my Mom washed my mouth out for speaking.
For that part of the South Africans I feel a deep remorse. I’m ashamed admit that I share my citizenship with them. I know I sound stuck up. I apologize. But it grieves me that those people don’t realize how they embarrass themselves. I suppose they could be saying the same about me though. Still, I don’t get it. The people who usually “drop & tune” are the less fortunate. I understand that not everyone can drive the newest most luxurious cars. I’m fine with old cars as such. But why in heaven’s name would you want to make such a mockery of your car? And at the same time spend money which would have been better used had you bought shoes for your children! If you’re thinking I don’t have a passion for cars, you’re right. Still I cannot justify these peoples acts.
On a lighter note, when I got in the office this morning, I had an e-mail that goes surprisingly well with my earlier thoughts. I did the translation myself, so please do tell if you find any mistakes.
The title of it being “Twenty ways to tell if you are “kommin”
Die Halloween pampoen op jou stoep het meer tande as jou girlfriend The Halloween pumpkin on your porch has more teeth than your girlfriend
Jou twaalf jarige dogter mag rook by die tafel, voor haar kinders Your twelve year old daughter is allowed to smoke at the table, in front of her kids
Jy is al drie keer getroud maar jou skoonouers bly dieselfde You’ve been married three times, but your in-laws are still the same people
Jy dink chicks wat nie in jou belangstel nie, bestaan nie You think chicks who are not interested in you don’t exist
Jack Daniels is op jou lys van mense wat jy graag wil ontmoet Jack Daniels is on your list of people you’d like to meet
Jy wonder hoe die garages hulle toilette so skoon hou. You wonder how the filling stations manage to keep their toilets so clean
As iemand in jou familie al dood is nadat hulle gesê het, “Hey, check dit uit.” If someone in your family died after saying “Hey, check this out.”
Jy dink Dom Perignon is ‘n Mafia baas You think Dom Perignon is a Mafia boss
Jou vrou se hare het al vasgesit in die ceiling fan. Your wife’s hair has been stuck in the ceiling fan
Jy dink Johnny Walker het die Comrades gewen You think Johnny Walker won the Comrades
Jy het al ‘n vuurhoutjie gestrike in jou huis, en net die wiele het oorgebly na die ontploffing You’ve struck a match in your house, and only the wheels remained after the explosion
Jy kan nie met jou sweetheart trou nie omdat die wet dit verbied. You can’t marry your ’sweetheart’, coz its illegal
Jy dink om die skottelgoedwasser te laai is om jou vrou dronk te kry For you, the meaning of “loading the dishwasher”, is to get your wife drunk
Jou toilet papier het bladsy nommers Your toilet paper has page numbers
Jou Engelse buurman skree, “Ho Down” en jou chick val op die grond. Your English neighbor yells “Ho Down”, and your chick falls on the floor
Jy het een volledige stel koppies en almal sê Wimpy You have one full set of cups, and all of them have the word “Wimpy” written on them
Die grootste dorp wat jy al in was, was Boys Town The biggest town you’ve been to is Boys Town
Jou werkende TV sit bo op jou gebreekte TV Your working TV is on top of a broken TV
Jou bure dink jy is ‘n speurder want die polisie bring jou altyd huis toe Your neighbors think you’re a P.I. because the police always brings you home
Jy skree vir die Blou Bulle You’re a Blue Bulls supporter
