Shampoo

I grew up using the legendary, and still available, Johnson and Johnson's Baby Shampoo.  I think Mom was still buying it for us into late primary school.  It came in a hygienic pee-yellow colour and either it did the job, or it was cheap - I can't be sure.

That said, my hair made it through my formative years.  New phase, new shampoo and I started using Dad's Gill.  Gill, a marketing achievement, the only real men's shampoo.  If men actually helped with grocery shopping, it would no doubt have competition.

When I moved into my own place, and realized how expensive cleaning equipment was, I didn't last long on the Gill-wagon.  It was back to J&J's family shampoo, which is similar to the infant variety, only it also strips paint, cleans toilets and disinfects drains.  Or so I imagine.

For a number of years I bought into the fact that J&J Family is half the price of everything else on the shelf.  Right up until the day my sister gave me a small bottle of some, other, fancy looking shampoo... for the flight to 'Nam.  Over the next week, in the 30 degree heat, 200 million percent humidity, my hair staged a come back tour... which given the circumstances is remarkable.  When I got home I bought some new shampoo... I'm easing into things and have gone with something slightly more expensive than my beloved J&J Paint stripper... keeping an eye on the results.

Hadeda

I was running down McJanet Drive this morning, slightly misty eyed but enjoying being out and about.  I spotted a Hadeda sitting right ontop of the bulb on a streetlight, sort of leaning over the road - and importantly, directly above my path.  It occurred to me in my sleepy state that being pooped on by a Hadeda at 5am is probably the worst thing that could ever happen to a man, with obvious exclusions.

It is only by divine intervention that Hadeda's are present, exclusively, when I have nothing to throw at them.  This morning, unarmed, we passed each other, warily, no doubt to meet again.  I've tried before, we get a lot of birds in our garden and I've launched a range of twigs, leaves, too-small-to-count stones and angry stares at them... especially the loud ones.

One day... one day I'll be holding an apple, or a half empty Coke, or shoes that I'm not that attached to...

Victor

I've been working from home for the last 4 months.  Not my home, but a home.  As is the case with many homes, this one comes with a dog.  Victor.  Victor the bipolar watch dog.

Not a graceful title, but not undeserved either.  Victor and I get on, infact, give it until Christmas and I suspect I'll be the favourite - Tshawe the handyman may give me a run for my money.

I recruited Victor for an advert the other day, hoping that he would behave like a clumsy family hound and smash through my wall of cups.  Alas, he was surprisingly dextrous, and got to the bacon kips without touching them.


Last week the two male bunnies in the cage outside, gave birth to 3 even smaller bunnies.  Hark, a miracle.  The excitement came to an abrupt end when one of the bunnies went past the window in Victor's mouth.  Like a unsuspecting fighter pilot in a big, black, hairy jet.  Not the first time this has happened.  Friendlies were scrambled to intercept the newborn.

Backpack

Cath, her sister Tracy, and I are heading for Vietnam toward the end of the month.  It's my first bit of overseas travelling, and yes... I'm quite excited.  I've been acquiring things, in preparation, for the last month or so.   Yesterday I bought a backpack.  A K-Way Transit 75.

I was modelling it in my room last night.  The website says the ventilation system will be helpful when "You're carrying 75 liters on your back...'  That's a lot of tailored suits from Hoi An.

It's quite rare to spend a lot of money on something, and feel utterly vindicated about it when you get home.  After peering into all of the pockets, discovering a rain shield and a variety of sheaths and harnesses... I decided it was a good buy.  A totally rational summation of value.  The hip supports make it feel like you're part of a congo line, with the person behind you violating the hands-on-shoulders guideline.

In-store promotions

Everyone in the office thought it would be a great idea to get back to basics... and meet our customers in their natural environment.  However, circumstances played out, I found my self alone in the cleaning aisle this morning at Spargs Mall, Beacon Bay, hawking our cleaning cloths.

The people of Beacon Bay were actually pretty hospitable... I'd usually rank promoters alongside tele-sales marketers.  I tried to avoid being that guy, and even pre-warned one man by doing an exaggerated tip toe move with my arms out like a t-rex, incase he thought I wasn't about to pounce.  He seemed to appreciate the warning.  He bought a pack of cloths.

Some people, so eager to avoid me refused to make eye contact, instead looking away as they passed.  Too bad for them I was at an isle end.  A number of them ended up t-boning geriatric shoppers with their trolleys.  Small joys of the in-store promoter.

I kept a scorecard of packs sold on my hand.

Hazard lights

Of all driving etiquettes, the most misunderstood has got to be the acceptable use of hazard lights.

I made a quick trip downtown this morning, to buy a shirt for my first instore promotion tomorrow - yes, I will pounce on you like a veteran Jehovah's Witness at a street braai and sell more you microfibre cloths than you can fit into your trolley. Spargs Superspar, 12 - 2.  It's going to be educational.  and Epic.

I noticed two drivers, cruising, with a get-out-jail-free look on their faces, fooling around in the morning traffic, with their hazard lights on.
One of them sailed through a turning circle at a leisurely 60 looking like a volunteer ambulance driver on a sunday afternoon response call to fetch an employee from the chocolate factory who had accidentally fallen into a vat of Bournville Dark and wasn't hurt, or particularly upset about the accident.

The other, a lady looking for something, trawling along in a 1 ton truck... I couldn't make out the exact expression on her face... but whatever it was, it wasn't enough to make her look particularly concerned, or nearly as aggravated as the drivers queued up behind her.

Sole Destroyer 2012

It soon became apparent that listening to Britney Spears, "Not a girl, not yet a woman" just before I got out of the car to run a half marathon... was not a wise move.  The chorus looped through my head for the next 2 hours, as we crested hill after hill along the Sole Destroyer route.

That was pretty much my only complaint.  All other complaints were directed at the dirt road.  The race is probably the best organised in East London, and as sister Julia pointed out, you always get a nice shirt.  Expect to see a lot of bright orange runners on the roads of East London.

Running races are basically big groups of liars who get together to complain about their tendancy to enact free-will.  We all gave some strangers 40 bucks, then complained about our decision to run up lots of hills.  A mysterious culture.

You can see the details on ECMTB.co.za 

You can see the final results for the 2012 Caltex Sole Destroyer here