How to spot a hooker in the day

Haven’t blogged in ages. Been doing life things or just taking a break I don’t know.


It was two o’clock in the afternoon and I was waiting for my sister outside the shops at one of Lynwood’s many shopping complexes.

As I was waiting, I noticed this lady (not really) walking to get to the ATMs. I should say right now that I’m a very observant person, especially of random things that probably won’t mean/amount to anything. Anyways, a few seconds into my observing this woman, I noticed a few things that led me to believe that she was a prostitute. I’ll be first to admit that sometimes my imagination runs rampant and I get questionable ideas brewing in my mind, but on this occasion I feel justified. Here is how I came to the realization that this lady was a tramp.


The way she walked was the first thing that made me notice her. It was a very peculiar gait, one that I was not familiar with. At first I thought she had some sort of disability, but no, she just walked funny. She seemed to use the arch of her feet more than necessary especially considering that she was wearing flats. She looked a tad bit uncomfortable or at least not used to walking in flats. I didn’t understand until I noticed more irregularities.

Calf Muscles

She had toned calf muscles which didn’t really go well the rest of her. I knew for sure she wasn’t someone who believed in regular exercise. Her calves rivalled Zola Bud’s (okay, maybe Helen Hunt’s) but still. This is the point where my mind started running rampant, I got it in me that if someone wore clear 8 inch heels everyday and had to stand and walk around in them…they would have calves like these. These were 8 inch clear heel wearing calves and I had to see if there’s more evidence. And there was.

Skin Tone

This was a black woman, but she was a yellow-bone (fair skinned black people are called yellow-bones by not so fair skinned black people). Her yellow-bonedness was however very compromised…think Happy Sindane’s skin tone. I want to say she looked pale, but not really. Imagine the skin tone a Khoisan would have if she’d never been kissed by the sun. Like she had a serious vitamin C deficiency (don’t even know what that would do to the skin, but I imagine it would result in her kind of skin tone). Like yellow leather seats that have been left outside after months of sun and rain…yes something like that. And like we all know, hookers don’t see much of the sun.

Thing is she didn’t look homeless or nothing. I had to find more hooker evidence. I did.


Her hair nearly threw me of my game. It was as nappy as fuck nuts! Think Whoopi Goldberg’s pubs in The Colour Purple (unnecessary hyperbole). But yes it was just that bad. If we still had the pencil test, The Whiteman would deport her to freaken Gabon. In my mind I thought it looked like she’d been wearing a beanie for the past 20 years or something. Then it hit me…wigs!!! Wigs are exactly like beanies, we’ll they should at least have the same effect on hair. So I was back on my game and things just kept getting better.


Once I noticed how lovely her nails were I had that “Cell-C tell someone” moment. Her nails looked lovely. They were gorgeous. Why would you have hair like that and hot nails? Because you are a hooker in the day time! That’s why! I was convinced. But I kept looking just in case.

At this point she was done using the ATM. I witnessed the same walk and was now looking at her in a whole different light. But something exciting happened!!!

She stepped into the SUN!!!

Guys! Away from the shade of the building she totally exposed herself. The glaring rays of sunshine had her looking disoriented and perplexed. The look was unmistakeable; it was like when Eric Northman (vampire from True Blood) stepped into the sun after hundreds of years. I couldn’t help it, I laughed so hard sitting there by myself.

So there you have it guys! Now you two can see if you can spot a hooker in the day. It is in how they walk, their calf definition, tone of their skin, how their hair looks, the nails and if you’re lucky their reaction to the sun.



  • Although some of the things in this blog post are exaggerated for dramatic effect, they really are not far from the truth.
  • Also this poor woman could be a victim of Apartheid or The ANC’s trifling ways. So ya: Dear ANC people look like hookers (and maybe even are) because of you! #Jokes #OrNot
  • This actually happened last year December. I found myself thinking about blogging about it a few minutes ago when I was “studying”. Procrastination is so much fun.
  • I’m actually very fascinated by hookers. If I ever write an award winning anything trust me, a hooker will be in the storyline.
  • I must also mention that when I was in varsity a friend of mine and I ran a soup kitchen from res for the homeless people of Mowbray (Cape Town). On a few occasions these two hookers had some of our soup. Very nice people. Never saw them during the day…ever.

Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self. Someone very wise said this. Don’t remember who. This is particularly true for someone who has tons of work to do and a blog account.



Top ten reasons why The DA might take over Pretoria

10. They will fix potholes, and we believe them.
9. COPE supporters don’t have options.
8. The DA, for the first time, has a presence in TUT, apparently its doing well.
7. The ANC insists that Marabastad smells like adventure.
6. Yuppies in Centurion.
5. Sightings of white Waterkloof women (WWW) wearing Carvellas.
4. The cheese girls and boys of Attridgeville/Mabopane/Soshanguve.
3. Those moments when Jacaranda FM plays HHP. All 3 of them.
2. The colder weather will simmer down all the hot heads come voting day.
And the number ONE reason why the DA might take the PTA.
1. Universal Taxi Rank!!! The people are tired!!!

I don’t hate House Music, I hate the Stans, Part Deux

Yeah so this is part two, I was tired yesterday. Like I said. Feeling super charged now, and I actually needed rest for this second part. I did not see it coming.

Ah yes, there I was Cape Town, the land of the free (with racism and all, story for another blog)! Where expression is rife and life is but a thing to do. I was the wide eyed small town boy in a huge community of peers. Away from all the Glens and Simunyes of this world. Keen and ready to discover new things.

I was meeting awesome people. Interesting people. People who are open minded and most importantly people who don’t steel
calculators (yes Wel I am very bitter about my calculator). Obi was with his kind of people. House Music was dead to me. House people were dead to me. A new dawn had come.

Then behold, Big Bash!!! Now for those of you who don’t know what Big Bash is, I’m have to take a moment to try and describe it with the extremity which is due to it. It’s a fan-fucking-tastic event, where you make life friends in the toilet as you
throw up, make out with people you will see every day in your varsity career and will probably never speak to again. Big Bash is a page out of every ridiculous American teen flick. Its debauchery at its best and worst. Memories of Big Bash 2005 are rushing through my head right now…I’m lying that’s how awesome it was. Lol, I lie. But ya, it’s a little patchy. I don’t remember if
DJ Fresh was there, I just consulted with a few buddie, no one remembers. LOL!!! Useless. But he was at most Big Bashes.

So I get to Big Bash and it’s insane. Madness! Different dance floors to choose from. I was going to go finger every single one of these dance floors!!! I even left the people I was there with (I claimed they disappeared), they weren’t as excite as I was. I went exploring!!!

I found the House dance floor along with all the non-Simunyes. These same people, my people, to my chagrin, happened to
be house fans. How could this be? I was confused. These people all seemed so sensible when I met them. But now…not so much. At first I thought it was the alcohol….but no. I was drunk to. And back then, my tolerance was lower than our cabinets IQ. Give me a few shots of anything, and I’ll be anyone you want me to be.

It was the music! House music makes the stans lose it! You know what white kids look like at raves…it’s almost the same
thing, only with MUCH BETTER dancing and without the drugs. And that’s the thing right there. WITHOUT THE DRUGS!  So
much dancing and sweating, and they make these intense facial expressions. I couldn’t listen to the music. People reaction to the music was too much of a distraction. This is, admittedly, not how one should judge Music, but it’s how did.

I’ve since had conversations with House Stans, wow. They’ve defended it on an intellectual level, not the “E monate jo” story I would’ve probably gotten from my people from yester-year. But listening to a house fan speak, isn’t very different to listen to someone in a cult defend their leader. Speak to someone who’s never missed 5FM on a Friday at 6. Never meaning, even when they do, they download the tracks online. Speak, to someone who’ll randomly (without even you asking shem) say, “Yeah, I’ve got 50gigs of House”.

Truth is, House junkies are not any different from the annoying Justin Bieber fans out there. And House music isn’t
annoying like Justin Bieber. A few weekends ago, drunk people left two house CD’s in my car. I’ve been listening to them. And wow, House Music is awesome! House Music is still my future! That 14yr old chubby boy was right!

The stans!!! Oh Lawd the stans!!! Calm down! We’re all trying to have a good time. You’re just trying to have theeeeeeeeee
absolute BEST time.

So ya…the end.

I don’t hate House Music, I hate the stans!!!

I just got back from work. I’m so tired!!! I’ve decided to split this post into two. This is the first part. Its very long, finishing it off now would kill me, and it probably wont make much sense close to the end. You’d also be wise to urban dictionary “stan”.

I want to start by explaining what inspired this note. I was doing my routine facebook stalking. And I stumbled across this lovely treasure on someone’s info tab. If said someone happens to read this blog, you’ll be strong. You inspired me to blog such.


Love sweet sounds


House Inspector


I listen too very sweet sound of house.. If i start knoding.. Then knw its dope

My history with house music is a special one. When I was a young’un, my aunt, who’s 10yrs older than me, had this CD called “Fresh House Flava 4”. It was the year 2001 and I thought music had died gone to heaven and it came back as an angel. This album was my first taste of house music, and I was completely sold on the idea of house music.

I was at a very awkward stage of my life then. A chubby Brits 14yr old who could not dance for shit! But when Track 1 “Summer Daze” played, I’d break it down and it would break in a million little pieces. Don’t even get me started with “Rise”, “I’m alone until you show me” and “Get on my camel”. House music was defined for me. It was the music of the future; I was a part of that future. Things were going to be awesome!!!

So I go to school, and I tell everyone about it. To my surprise (because I’m from Brits, and I don’t really know what’s potting there) people knew about this phenomenal thing I had just discovered. My disappointment was the kind of people who were the most excited about this. It was the hoodlums in my grade. Those kids who started getting out of hand round about that time Emanuel was a staple on etv. I actually remember the names of the hoodlums in question, Glen and Simunye (real name Katlego). The people I could not stand were excited with me about “My future music”. As a side note, Simunye stole my calculator (no honour amongst House fans).

This was my first taste of the “Average house fans”.

This didn’t make me lose any interest in House music. I had my love “Fresh House Flava 4” and I was happy. My future encounters with house music would unfortunately be at the taxi rank when I went home in the afternoons. The fans in the case would be the taxi drivers. My faith in this music, its future, and my place in it were tested.

I didn’t completely lose interest, we had decent jams, thanks to Oskido and his Church grooves. I had good times to those amazing jams, Isabelle (which I called Kaizer for a long time) and that classic Come done (also Condom). Me and house music were still not the best of friends anymore. Admittedly, my exposure to the music was grossly limited. I was not going to go to “Fountain” or ko “Stadium’ong”. I would rather indifferently listen to the anecdotes every Monday morning, watch the re-enactment of the dance moves to that song.

After high school, my future with this music seemed more like a distant past. Then enter stage left, varsity. And a whole different kind of house stan. Nothing like the hoodlums I had grown accustomed to, but house stans nonetheless.

This is were I’m going to stop for now. I’ll tell you the rest of my story with House music Tomorrow. I’m too tired and listless right now. Its been a long day.