SAMA winners

This weekend gave us the 2009 South African Music Awards and I’m happy to report that several of the bands supported on this blog came through as winners:

But if Saturday night reminded us just how good SA music can be, we were brought right back down to earth by the final of SA Idols on Sunday. If you want to know just how good the standard of SA Idols is, then don’t ask me. I was just unfortunate enough to catch the last ten minutes in a poorly organised glance at what was on Carte Blanche at 7. I have now been put right off Mnet for life.

(For those of you interested, a duet by Sasha and Lee beat Jason into 3rd place, apparently.)

Added Ads

I was gently going about my business yesterday afternoon, only mildly depressed by the scorelines of earlier football matches, when someone (I’m not sure who it was) tweeted about earning money from their blog and how they weren’t, but they felt that they should be. It got me thinking.

6000 miles…has always been about the content. And while you might not agree that it’s very good content, my ever-swelling numbers of visitors and feedburner stats would say differently. So – primarily as an experiment – I have added some Google ads to the site. You may have noticed that subtle massive bar thing across the the top of this (and every other) post. If I make this post long enough, you’ll see the one in the sidebar as well.
And while I’m bound by the somewhat Draconian Google AdSense Terms and Conditions from enticing readers to click on them, that’s obviously what they are there for. Many of my regular readers will be wondering where the excessive profanity, hacking/cracking, gambling, casino-related, illicit drugs and drug paraphernalia content and the sales of beer, hard alcohol, prescription drugs, weapons and ammunition (e.g. firearms, firearm components, fighting knives, stun guns) stuff has gone.
Well, I’m not allowed to do that sort of thing any more either.

Yes, the ads are a little ugly and yes, maybe I’m ‘selling out’ a bit by installing them, but since this blog already conformed to virtually every standard that Google wanted to impose on it anyway, together with the fact that I work damn hard at maintaining the site (you’ve had a post every day for February, March and April), I feel that if I can get some monetary reward from it – well great. 

I’ll also be putting ads onto my RSS feed at some point. Possibly.

Meanwhile, if any company wants to buy ad space on the blog, please don’t hesitate to get in touch. I have a big local readership and would offer very reasonable rates to local (Cape Town or SA) companies: I might not be South African, but I do still subscribe to the Proudly South African approach to business. Except that I actually do things when I say I will.

Of course, as a scientist, I recognise that experiments can go horribly wrong. Only last week, I managed to infect over half the population of [suburb] with XDR-TB after an unfortunate incident involving them and some XDR-TB. Hopefully, by the time they track the source, I’ll have made enough cash from Google to escape to [nice place]. 
But if this doesn’t work out, for whatever reason, it – like me – will disappear pretty quickly. Lingerie, pictures, swimsuit, photos, amateurs, underwear, lacy underwear, bra, suspender belt, stockings, sexy ladies.

You fill up my senses…

Today’s the day.

At 1315 BST, Sheffield United will kick off their game at Crystal Palace and about several miles away, Reading will kick off against Birmingham City. Between them, the results of these two games will determine who will be promoted into the Premiership.
This might not have a huge impact on your day, but it is already having a huge effect on mine. I can’t eat anything (apart from bagels for breakfast and a satsuma), I can’t drink anything (although, if I’m fair, I have managed a couple of cups of coffee) and I can’t sleep. But that’s because I have a teething daughter.

A touch of spice is added by the fact that the manager of Crystal Palace is a lifelong Sheffield United fan and therefore wants Palace to win (as it’s his job) and United to win (because of his emotional ties).
And before anyone says – “Well, how about a draw, then?”, that won’t be good enough for United. 

So – all to play for and it is thus, I sing the Oath of Allegiance:

You fill up my senses…
Like a gallon of Magnet.
Like a packet of Woodbines.
Like a good pinch of snuff.
Like a night out in Sheffield.
Like a greasy chip butty.
Like Sheffield United.
Come fill me again.

And now I must go, because my daughter is hitting herself repeatedly over the head with an orange  plastic cricket bat. That’s the influence of the IPL.

Steeling myself

That’s steeling, not stealing. As in mentally preparing myself, rather than illegally taking myself from my rightful owner. Who I would argue is probably me anyway. Others would certainly suggest that it’s actually my wife. But since I am steeling myself, and not stealing myself, all that discussion is immaterial anyway.  

What I am steeling myself for – as I’m sure many South African readers have already worked out – is the five day working week which is now (sadly) just over Sunday’s horizon. Thanks to Easter (some christian thing or other), Freedom Day (honouring the George Michael song) and Worker’s Day (honouring left-wingers worldwide), together with Julius Malema’s Jacob Zuma Day (bizarrely honouring Helen Zille) on the 22nd, our last full working week commenced on the 30th March. Getting ourselves back into the swing of actually doing stuff is going to be tough.

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M3 freeway pic

The first part of this preparedness was to start all the jobs which were meant to be done in March, but were put off until the holiday month of April. Never mind that we’re now into May already. Procrastination is…

Sorry, just a quick break there to change one of those nappies.
Parents all over the world recoil in horror: “Oh God! He doesn’t mean a…” …but yes, I do – a six-wiper.
For the uninitiated (you lucky sods), 6 baby wipes is the maximum number of wipes one can use when changing a nappy without it becoming a shower-job. A shower-job is thus named because, perhaps unsurprisingly, it necessitates the use of a shower (or hose, if outdoors) to clean the child when the nappy contents have… “escaped” from within the confines of the nappy. 
There is one step beyond a shower-job nappy change, but it requires professional help to aid recovery afterwards, usually in the form of psychotherapy, together with a good painting and decorating firm and a local carpet supplier. To the best of my knowledge, this nappy change scenario has never been officially named, because just to mention it would put people off having kids for life and thus end the human race pretty sharpish.

Anyway, I digress. Often.
Today, being that I now have just over 24 hours of public holiday weekend remaining, I took the recycling to be recycled and I actually went and bought a replacement outside light fitting from Builder’s Whorehouse. This replacement light fitting will now sit in the garage until June 16th (Youth Day) – our next public holiday – at which point I will probably look at it a bit, tut once or twice knowingly while shaking my head and then leave it until August 9th (Women’s Day) when I will ask the wife to sort it out.
I took the photo above while heading back up the M3, because there were all sorts of clouds in the sky, Cumulo cumulus, Nimulo nimbulus and Fluffulo fluffulus especially, together with some grey stuff and some blue stuff. It was just all busy and I like busy skies.

We’re off to Newlands to watch the Stormers losing to the Chiefs this evening, before a big day of more steelage tomorrow. And the small matter of the last games of the Championship season, with Sheffield United’s Premiership promotion dreams in the balance. But more of that in the morning if I get chance and assuming I have steeled myself adequately.

Images with words

Desperately tired. Quota photo time. Again. Apologies.

From here, via here (who also gave us this).


Images with words

The lower one being particularly apt as Mrs 6k and I are hitting the dizzy nightlife of… *ahem*… Kenilworth this evening to celebrate our years together. But I am not sat in traffic. Nor do I have a laptop or a portable inkjet. No such fancy technology, I’m afraid. And anyway, Cape Town drivers would surely just ignore any such message.

I do have car charger for my phone though. R25 at the lights in Somerset West.
Note to Mr Wonder Husband: Simple is usually better.