This was meant to be a blog that celebrates chiefly my chase of tail amongst pseudo-philosophical ramblings but as I write this I realise that as much I love girls writing about them isn’t as fun. Oh there will be the odd escapade here and there that I deem worth telling but I’d rather dig into the reasons why I have issues with commitment, why George Lucas insists on ruining his legacy with new Star Wars material (Dude! 3D Phantom Menace, really?), why people buy Twilight and why I like Flo Rida’s music even though I know its shit and a passing fad (its fun to dance to, plus the bass is always amazing. Real good jamming music I think. Its still shit though. *singing* You make my head spin right round). Let’s get it over and done with; I am a runner, with daddy issues, probably mommy issues too but that actually isn’t the point is it. This is the only time this will be brought up unless of course I get drunk one day and decide to delve into my inner self and then proceed to type it up. Fat chance (I’m not good with self analysis and reflection and all that blah blah blah). I will instead fill this spot with incessant goings on about my rather normal life with the odd social commentary piece. Actually, not so much the odd piece but more so the occasional one. After all I live in South Africa were the police commissioner is serving time, the president thinks showers will prevent AIDS and the mooted future president is, well, what is Malema not? Certainly not presidential material for any organisation let alone a country. But then again these are the times we live in. Mandela hasn’t reached the grave but he is already turning.