"But I don't want to go among mad people," said Alice. "Oh, you can't help that. We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad," replied The Mad Hatter. " But how do you know I'm mad?" cried Alice. "You must be. Or you wouldn't have come here."
ALICE:
The sweet poppet who felt confined in this world of politics, arranged marriages and lady like behaviour decided to follow a little white rabbit with a waist coat and accidentally fell down a hole! Well, what people don’t know about Alice is that she is a horny little fuck! And falling into that hole has done nothing but set her free in the land of dreams, where she can gallivant around butt-naked, tits out and hormones racing! Now, in this Wonderland of vodka flowing rivers that glisten like disco balls and topsy-turvey flowers that enchant you with their smiles, this blonde bomb shell is out to play, and play she will! Although she has the tendency to be horribly vulgar and quite sultry at the same time- she’s a load of fun and will probably get your blood pumping, in all the right places!
THE QUEEN OF HEARTS:
The Queen of Hearts is a bitch. Her title most ironic. The Queen has anything but a heart (nor a brain for that matter). In its place lies a chamber full of hate and anger, pumping rage through her every being, her body feeding off other peoples misery and misfortunes. The Queen of Hearts, unable to see others pain through her own vanity, has no remorse or guilt. She is brutally honest and delivers it as it is. No matter how grotesque or unwanted the news might be. Through all of this, however, the Queen has an attractiveness about her. Like a spell it draws you in. Even with her arrogance, vulgarity, and plain right rudeness, one cannot help but to like her. Slowly you get sucked in and before you know it you too are one of her cards, her minions, laughing at her insults and joining in the name-game. Her hilarious outlook on life and inability to hold back on anything draws you to the dark side in one swift swing of the club
THE MAD HATTER:
You take the blue pill - the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill - you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit-hole goes.
It has come to our attention that the SA blog awards are around the corner... Now we have been going for a only a short while, and do not exactly expect to feature, but you know what, we are going to give it a bash... I mean, what do we have to lose right?
So please vote for us. Get your flat mates, siblings, friends, anyone, to hop on the train and let’s take this to a new level.
You can follow the link on the right hand side of our page, or click on the picture below... We are only trying for one category, BEST GROUP BLOG, so please stick to that one. They will then send you a confirmation email, and you have to follow THAT link in order for your vote to go through, so please let's try our absolute best to follow through with this whole process. Take some ritalin if you have too...
Holidays transform people into their rawest state of being. We become wild and free, restless and hungry for passion, fun, life! It’s the time when people let go of their inhabitions and moral beliefs and follow what one can only call, an animalistic calling. Evolution seems to take a backseat and we are driven by pure pleasure and desire. The holidays took hold of me, cornered me in and turned me against my moral instinct and intelligent decision making skills. They pushed me so far back into that corner, that one would have to squint at an angle to make out any human qualities at all, because all that prevailed was an animal. On the loose, the prowl, uncaged and feisty.
It’s been a good 4 weeks since the holidays have ended, yet I can’t say I have returned to my human self. The animal still lurks, still hunting. These last 4 weeks have been contorted, shifted by large amounts of alcohol and men. Is it time to buckle down and realise I’ve gotten out of hand? Or is this the onset of a whole different life all together?
Through these distorted weeks I have met the most incredible and most obscure people ever. I have come to realise that our specie is truly ‘effed up. To give you an indication of just how screwed we all are, I have decided to compile a list of events that took place, regarding sexual activities and the how some people “get off” in the strangest of ways. I have had them all, ranging from nerd to jock, to punk, to emo, to fucking weird.... This is what I like to call my “Mystical Male Encounters:”
First of all it began with the band-man. Call me a groupie if you may, but there is nothing sexier than a guy playing guitar and singing strangled-up, nonsense lyrics that just get your nipples hard and your panties moist. He had the charm, he had the right words, he had the intellect, but he didn’t have the looks. He lay back, relaxed and let me take control. Just the way I like it. It was refreshing, and he was very much above the size spectrum, but the problem was the location... His parent’s house, in the nursery/day care his mother runs. On the floor, surrounded by dolls, colouring-in books, toys, and stinking of baby food and old shit diapers. This wouldn’t be so bad if it was our only choice. It was only when I went to wee that I realised he actually had a private lounge area, dining room, T.V room, fucking kitchen even, or his own goddamn bedroom!... ANYTHING would have been better than the room with clowns and miniature chairs and tables. Fetish perhaps?
Then we had the guy with short-man-syndrome. The shit stirrer that just loves getting into heated arguments and fights, even when he can’t do jack shit to protect himself. When a guy is obnoxious and genuinely arrogant, I get the feeling of just wanting to fuck the attitude out of him!... and I did. Because like most ‘big-talkers’ they aint backing shit, they don’t have many friends and they never get laid. It was quite hilarious actually- he came as he entered and tried to pretend it didn’t happen, hoping I wouldn’t notice his deflating dick. But I did.. I felt sorry for him so I lay there and humoured him for a while as he pounded heavily onto me, and I say ‘onto’ me and not ‘into me’ because there was nothing going in, just his waist slamming my hip bones. I couldn’t stand the torture any more so I rolled him off of me and sent him to the couch. Lame.
Then... ah... the nerd... Picked him up in a dark dingy club. He was motherless and I was horny. Went back to his place where I found out just how dorkish he really was. Boring garage type room literally had the corrugated iron roof and everything, mouldy carpet and it seemed as if the FHM poster girls were his only interaction with the female kind. But he was cute and kind (as all nerds are generally described.) Till this day I am sure he lost his virginity to me. It was like a Duracell Bunny hopping around, not knowing what the fuck to do, or how to react for that matter, scrambling for the condoms like I’m going to evaporate any second and then not even knowing how to put it on. He touched me as if I were a project at the science fair, rattling “typers’ fingers.” He was the perfect engineer, wore glasses, skinny, pasty white and not even potentially funny. But I like to think I taught him a few things.
From nerd we move along to ze Porra! Dark wind-swept hair that seemed perfectly gelled to his head, as if it were a helmet, thick sculpted brows and a wide, pearly smile that read “sly man whore” all over it. His brightly shining grin was emphasized by his deep olive complexion. He had the accent and the moves, and called me “his cow-girl.” It was like a scene out of Havana Nights. It’s a pity how pretty pictures can be ruined with words... Every time he opened his mouth with a “oh Bebi, I like that.” “Oh Bebi, come a liedel bit closer!” “OH BEBI you’re soo Haat!” I wanted to chunder! It quickly turned from Havana Nights to –this could be a fucking pool boy, Gigolo named Rafael and I could be a male gorilla, he would still fuck me! Not to mention the distinct smell of Lays Spring Onion on his breath. God, there is nothing worse than going home with a greasy perve. Hung like a horse though!
As time ticks, we reach the punk, just an older more mature version, but a punk non-the-less. He was one of those mutual friends, easy fuck buddies. Very friendly, would party with him anytime, great guy as a whole and its awesome waking up in a hospitable, none- awkward environment. The only problem isà He is pretty fucking nasty! We were going at it for quite a while, over an hour to be honest. But with the friction from the condom, things started getting pretty dry. I stopped him, (mid-doggy) and suggested he get some lube. When he apologised for not having any, I just shrugged and got comfortable for a good night’s sleep. 10 minutes later he tapped me on the shoulder and said: “uhm, I don’t have lube, but I have slym!”... “Slym?...Whats that?”....He coughed and said: “like I have phlegm in my throat, we can use that?” Now fucking excuse me siffo! But this is not a fucking porno, what makes anyone think that a chick would want some guys virus infected, lung oyster up their vagina??! Jesus, game over!
As a committed party animal, one of the perks is fluttering around, hooking up and then bouncing off to the next, smiling and batting my lashes vibrantly. After an eventful night of boy hopping I met the Average Joe. A polite Afrikaner with smiley eyes and a naughty face. His approach was far more traditional and less drunked than many in the past. Bought me drinks, danced all night and invited me up for some red-wine. I guess I fucked him just because he was so normal, and so quaint. The night was long, I dominated as usual, but he knew how to handle me. We made our way through an array of positions as he played some sweet melodies on iTunes. Very courtly of him, I could tell he recently came out of a long term relationship, which he did. He was one of the lucky ones who had been previously trained... thanks girl. I guess I was his re-bound, and I digged it.
I could continue down the list, but that would just be slutty... ;) There’s a little taster of my recent experiences regarding the odd screw. If you have any really strange Mystical Male/Female Encounters, tell us... we want to hear all about it.
There are some things in life that are just too good to be true. One of these things just happens to be unveiling the truth of a best kept secret that has had you blindfolded for years. Now I don’t really have a talent – that’s no secret – so finding out that someone else’s talent is a fake, is a real brightener to a shitty day. Especially finding out that the greater part of our western worlds role models, idols, and musical influences have been feeding off of our naivety. In fact, that’s not entirely true, they aren’t feeding off our naivety, they just haven’t shared with us the secret, because they know, that if we know what they know, we could all become multi-million dollar pop stars, resulting in them losing their ‘well-deserved’ status as a diva to yet another mediocre person. I have been meaning to share this with you for a while my dear music playing friend, so go on, have a look - the one way ticket to producing a multi-platinum song.
I suppose if we look at it further, they NEEDED to keep this secret, because if every Tom, Dick, and Harry could produce a number one hit, there would be no more number one hits, because every single one of them would be just as good as the last. Therefore ‘great’ would become ‘mediocre’ and the abundance of great music would wipe the magic out of music, sending it into a pit of irrelevance and despair. It would be referred to as ‘The great loss of music’ and would become yet another one of the worlds many problems, being right up there with global warming and the poaching of elephants. Therefore I am only sharing this with YOU, because if I had to include this in my plans of world domination, it would be not a triumph, but a tragedy.
Well, for the most part anyway... We took a month off, maybe more, not for ourselves, but for you. You see not only does OUR absence make YOUR heart grow fonder, but we also took this month to think a little, experience a little, completely overindulge in sex and alcohol, go wild a little, all in all returning with new EVEN better adventures to talk about, new found knowledge, and life experience. We definitely got some life experience.
(These stories coming later.... All in good time old friend.)
We also lost a companion. Surprise, surprise. The Hatter fell down the rabbit hole and was mauled by rats. The bastards. But the queen and I will be just fine without him - thanks for your concern. In fact without him we can truly flourish into the untamed hungry animals that we are, without having to worry about what the Hatter, and therefore my brother, may read. This blog can now go on, fully uncensored! It’s beautiful really. Something like Pandora opening her box if we wanted to get all metaphorical... Or something like a 16 year old girl breaking her hymen for the first time. Boys and girls it’s time to let your hair loose, strip down to your knickers, shave your pubes, and unleash the demon within, because it is set to be one beautiful, beautiful term!
It’s a hustle and bustle like never before! We board the train, Vuvuzelas owning the ears of all, tight fit, everyone- Black. White, Coloured, Foreign assemble. The train is so packed that I haven’t felt this squished since my mother gave birth to me. The carriage rocks with “Scrumba” and every surface is being stomped for beat. Smiles invade all the faces. Colours, paint, wigs and flags, a yellow sea of T-shirts, one just as excited as the next. 30 minutes go by and not a single soul has lost enthusiasm. We arrive- Cape Town City Centre, it is a dancing stampede, filled with song, screams and whistle- lets not forget the “BAAA” of the VUVU’s. Fan Fest here we come! The sea moves along swimmingly as strangers join and create an orchestra of cheers. For the first time in South Africa we have controlled chaos- the laughing police officers says it all.
The tar of Long Street has disappeared. Instead people, hundreds and thousands of people cover it. From the balcony it all just seems like a smudge of yellow, back. green and red- with a few miss matched speckles in between. Traffic-light hawkers have probably never sold so much useless merchandise before, but it sure is fucking awesome! It seems a mass of ecstasy, as though everyone is drunk, perhaps they are, but for the most they are drunk on happiness at 12pm Friday 11 June 2010. This is what we have waited for, this is where we are, the World Cup is all around us, this is South Africa. The expectations could not have been better met as every shop in Town houses hordes of fans, selling out more stock in one day than would have in a month. SABC 1 flashes everywhere as we dance along the pavement.
PAUSE** a guy wearing an Irish cloak and lepricon hat- Ireland isn’t even in the World Cup. Oh well- he’s got the spirit, or had too many spirits…
Alcohol is flowing faster than the sea of people, I spin, stop. Focus, and continue sharing a spliff with a dude from Congo. Can this be what it’s actually all about? The unity amazes me, amazes us, amazes the tourists, the essence of 2010, so much more than just soccer, but a showcase of our heritage. The Vuvuleza outlives all voices and echoes through the streets, people might fade but the “Horn of Unity” stands strong.
Quote:
“It’s so fucking awesome guys, I can sit in traffic and just blow my VUVU and some other car will blow back!... It’s like having a conversation without words, they know exactly what we are saying when we blow!”
“It’s like having sex with random people from other cars!”
It’s now, we loving it, part of it completely, so involved, so proud, so happy. All I can say is, HELLO AFRICA!
Dr Phil is a fucking idiot. I can’t believe that eight years down the line he still airs; everyday. I mean do people actually watch that shit? When we are living in a world of magnificent technological creations like DSTV with its FOUR HUNDRED (jokes! It's actually 190. I counted) channels of non-stop entertainment and magic, why would you tune in to channel 132, SABC 2? You are asking for a total mind fuck, and not in a good way.
The reason for this outburst is because while procrastinating the other day, I found my brother watching this crap. The topic of the day – How to control your kids in certain situations. Well this was Doctor Phil’s advice on a few of the ‘stories’.
“Doctor Phil, my child is 7 years old and is completely obsessed with the way that she looks. She has a list of rules (i.e. no sweatshirts, no leggings, no stripes, no pleats, no zips, no mismatched colours, no creases, and so it goes on and on and on...). It takes her 2 hours to get ready for school – 50 minutes for choosing an outfit, 40 minutes for her hair, and 30 minutes for everything else. Please help me. It is not normal for a child of 7 to care so much about what she looks like.”
Now lady, I completely agree. There is a big problem here and one that will probably lead to Anorexia and death. When I was 7 I was still climbing trees, riding bikes, and thought that I was a boy. But no, not according to Doctor Phil, this was his advice:
"There is no problem here. All girls care about what they look like and what image they are portraying. Your daughter, like everyone else’s, has found her niche and so she dresses accordingly. She is trying to give off the image that suits her. No problem."
Well thanks doctor Phil, that sounds just about perfect. Good advice.
Next!
“Doctor Phil, the other day I got a call from school because my son, of 5 years old, had instigated a little cahoot during class. He got 5 boys to line up, and said that he would show them his if they showed him theirs. Is my child normal? Is he possibly homosexual? How do I control this situation?"
Doctor Phil –
"This is normal. It is just a case of curiosity, not sexuality. However, it is mildly inappropriate to condone this behaviour in the classroom, rather do it in the controlled environment of a home."
Jeepers’ creepers. The woman is soon going to be convicted of encouraging child pornography, and soon enough she will be running a full-on male brothel.
I have personally sworn never to watch that show again, and definitely not to EVER, EVER take Doctor Phil’s advice. From now on he will be referred to as Mr Phil; he doesn’t deserve the title Doctor. He’s a fucking idiot.
There is nothing worse than people who pity themselves. Now I don’t mean one can’t cry over a sore toe, a crushed ego or a broken heart, but seriously, those manically depressed individuals who think that they are alone in the world, that they are more ugly than anyone else, and that nothing they do is ever good enough.... can just grow the fuck up and chuck that sense of self loathing!
I get that depression can often be a chemical imbalance in the brain and cannot be helped without the use of anti-depressants, but PLEASE for the love of god, if you are going to waste away in self pity, suffer alone! Yes, it is even worse when you have a problem with yourself and feel the need to get everyone around you involved too.
“Does my ass look big in these?”
No, no really you look great, if you are worried, maybe try a bigger size?
“Oh so it does look big then, it’s too tight and that means I’ve gained weight..... (Not that I ever do anything about it)”
-no, man fuck! You look good; I was just saying that, if it bothers you...
“So first you said I look great, now it’s just good. I knew you thought I looked fat”
Ah! Please, are you crazy! You look fucking HOT!
“Ok now you are just patronising me! If you really thought that, you would have said it in the first place...”
SHUT THE FUCK UP BITCH! Can you see how exhausting it is when you are around someone who needs constant reassurance!? And the thing that sucks is that generally people like this have a very sharp sense of humour and are incredibly witty (I mean there has to be some reason why they would have friends) Well their sense of humour which often makes use of sarcasm is due to the fact that they are constantly putting themselves down in their own minds and therefore probably have really good come- backs if they ever had to be involved in a ripping-off battle.
Another characteristic about these types is that they are so obsessed with comparing themselves to other people, to make sure that they fit the criteria of “normal” that every other endeavour in their lives becomes unproductive. Granted, these people often have already found their niche’ in life (because they analyse their own person so fucking much) and generally they excel in this, but it’s the only thing they can accomplish! They struggle to master the basic things in life like; keeping friends or knowing what is appropriate to say in a conversation or meeting new people (they choose to only surround themselves with long term friends and people who know them really well) and this is just fucking pathetic.
Try to see the world in terms of its bigger scheme; in fact just try to see the world. Get out of that enclosed, self-critical view that you have and open up your mind as to what is more important in life. It boils down to priorities and perception. Your average life, and your average looks are fucking average, and if it makes you feel better, “average” is like ‘standard’ or NORMAL. Stop making up problems, there are none, if you want to be a rebel, junky from a broken home and an abusive mother- then write a damn book, and you can live through your character. But for now, try and see how great your life is, and how much worse other people have it. I know you have probably heard this a thousand times before, but its true THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS PERFECT!!!!!
You are wasting your life feeling like you’re odd and that people are watching you wherever you go, Wasting your life looking into every mirror or shop window that you pass, just to see your own reflection and to judge yourself, fucking wasting your life when you don’t want people to stare for too long – cause it might cause an awkward moment. There is far too much damage and dirt in this world for you to waste your life on something that exists only in your mind. The only one who is critical, judgemental, obnoxious and sad, is you! And if you do have a very unfortunate background that made you this way, I promise you that there is always someone who is worse off, always!
You need to stand proud, look at yourself in a different light and soon other will see you differently too. The secret is that when you think people are gazing at your imperfections and taking note of them critically, actually, the only thing they are looking at is the way you hate yourself so much. Yes, people can see it and they don’t understand why. Confidence can turn you into a pro-active, self- loving, contributing human being, instead of a miserable sod! No one is going to run up to you and scream “you’re beautiful and I love you!” so say it too yourself! When you can admit that to yourself, you can be free and approachable. Only then will love and admiration find you.
It is easy to spot someone who is not getting any action. All around the world, every day of the year, there are thousands of sexually deprived boys and girls who lurk in the valley of frustration, where not only single folk, but those that are in relationships too, get sucked into this ‘curse of aggravation’ and often make it very publically visible.
Have you ever seen a dude in class, looking really strangely into the distance, while clenching his legs very close together? Then suddenly you notice that his eyes start travelling from one girl to the next as he searches for some visual stimulation. Well, that is a clear sign of someone in need of sexual satisfaction. Then you have the girl who sits on a bench reading a novel, probably a romance, ‘Mills and Boon’ kind of shit. If you focus on her for long enough, you will begin to notice her cross her legs, then again to the other side, then she glances up to see who’s looking, then glances down again and continues alternating sitting positions while her cheeks blush. Boom! Horny, and wanting some lovin’.
Lets move on to those friends of yours who all of a sudden seem more edgy than usual, ready to snap at any minute. Lack of sex increases aggression and assault, and it is understandable. Jesus, if I were a hormone, escalating up and down as a thought aroused me, then had to settle again, without actually being able to blow, Fuck! I’d be ready to pound a brick into the face of the next person who smiles.
Masturbation is always an option in relieving such suffering, but I’m talking about those uncontrollable urges that people seem to randomly experience during the worst times, on campus, in class, or at work. Now unless you are like Runckle (Californication), you will have the decency to wait until you get home before “settling the storm.”
So you get home, what a fucking surprise, “Mom it’s so nice of you to visit!” She stays for dinner, you have to clean up, then your best friend calls for relationship advise, and the only advise you can give as to why ‘Johny won’t pay enough attention to Sally’, is “because you not throwing your pussy at him!!!!!”... With this, it’s pretty much a given that there is serious tension in the nether regions. No, not only the nether regions, in fact sexual frustration is much like a disease that takes over your entire body, slowly eating away at your every being....
I can only describe the same kind of pain and frustration to people who are creatively inclined and incapable of expressing their inner desires. It’s like an artist without a paintbrush, a singer without a microphone or a fat person without a burger! Desperately trudging through the day as your frustration starts to build, grinding away at your teeth until all you have left is gum, rubbing your hands around and around as your skin begins to flake, clenching your knees tighter and tighter until your knees are blue, bleeding from the inside... That is the horror of sexual frustration. That is the curse of man.
Yes, I write this as I too experience such dismay and feel that I have been infected with the disease. It is an incessant fluctuation of boiling blood that never seems to rest. Why we don’t have public ejaculation cubicles bewilders me, - but I guess that’s what one could call a prostitute. All I can do now to fight it is page through sport magazines, imagining the after match shower next to Victor Matfield, “Grr come to Mama you hunk of Cave- Man!”
These past few weeks of exams have got me thinking.... Mainly about my future of being a Chartered Accountant as that’s the direction I’m headed. I can’t say I’m extremely excited about the work I’ll be doing, but I’m excited about the cash, that’s for sure. We’ve all had our dreams of what we wanted to be when we grew up, mine began with ‘a ballerina on a horse’, and then it slowly progressed to a Formula One racing driver. I can’t say either worked, and I can’t say an accountant came into any of those dreams either. Ever. But we give up, forget, and move on.
Well I’m happy to say, one long-time friend of mine didn’t. Ladies and Gents, I give you, Steve Benjamin! At first meeting you’d think he’s a seemingly pretty down to earth, laid back sorta guy. Well let me tell you, he is anything but. He is one of the craziest mother fuckers I know, and soon to be one of the craziest mother fuckers you know! You see, Steve does deep-sea diving, but diving in a way that you’ve never seen before. He’s only 27 years old and he’s seen more than you and I will probably ever see in our life.
He free dives with all those beautiful creatures that we hope and pray we will never, EVER bump into. His love in life – sharks. He follows them , and our other marine friends around the world, swimming with them and capturing the moments. Just looking at the pictures makes me shit myself a million times over, the thought of actually being right in front of the beast, capturing the photo, sends my mind racing to images of blood and missing body parts, and my heart into a rapid frenzy of minor heart attacks...
But not for Steve. See for yourself! I give you – Steve and the Beasts!
Now there are some things in my life that I can let slide. Forget about, get over, move on. They become less hot, less funny, and I find myself wondering why the fuck I was ever interested in the first place!? I can look and I can look but no matter how hard I observe this male specimen, the reason is just beyond me.
But sometimes, no matter what, the attraction remains and they make it onto my “To Do” list. For reasons I can’t explain I just can’t let them slide. I do not have any romantic feelings towards them anymore or any of that nauseating crap, there is just a curiosity of what would it be like the 2 of us in the sack. Would we gel? Would I orgasm? Would it be an awesome no-strings-attached-yet-there-is-a-bit-of-a-history fuck?
I mean the list is just fool proof! It’s a 100% guarantee of a good time. It’s brilliant really. It’s better than the normal one-night-stand (and they are pretty good too) because you have actually thought about this, fantasised over it even. It doesn’t come as a surprise when you wake up in the morning after a big night out; surrounded by the lingering smell of sweat, cigarettes, and sex, cum stains on your bed, and your vag feeling a bit raw. You had this planned! And now you can pat your self on the back, count your victory, swim in the sensation of accomplishment, and cross him off the list!
My “To Do” list I take very seriously, and it is definitely not something that I rush. Once the “chosen person” is on this list he is there for life, and in the end, we WILL do the nasty. It’s not a long list, only a select few, but so far it’s been great fun. It really puts ones priorities in order.
I highly suggest you make a “To Do” list. Just think about how once the deed is done, the sense of accomplishment that you will feel!? It’s phenomenal. But there needs to be a limit – certain criteria need to be met, other wise you will find every friend’s ex-boyfriend, old best friend, boss, and friend’s brother on there. It will become a list longer than Hugh Heffner’s and that is quite a feat. You don’t want to be disappointed at the end of your days when your list is only half complete. You want to be ecstatic - dying with a smile on your face because you know that you fucked the shit out of every lucky guy that wandered onto the list!
Join the table as Alice, The Mad Hatter, and The Queen of Hearts discuss daily events, express opinions and share stories in a very honest, humorous way.
