Posts
Candidates for our next 36-month potty train diploma course may now enroll. Below follows a brief overview of the intended syllabus and all prospective students are requested to kindly review this in detail before applying.
Introduction:
I’ve always been amazed at the number of men’s bathrooms in the so-called professional office environment where there are notices on the walls such as: “Please leave this facility clean and tidy.” What the heck? Isn’t that good old general knowledge which does not justify such notices?
Apparently not. I’m equally amazed with the number of times I enter such facilities and find the ...uhm... ‘equipment’ in less than desirable fashion or form. And since I honestly do not have a strong stomach, and due to the fact that it does not take much to make me retch, I decided to present this course to all interested guys.
I am of the firm belief that successful students will be able to apply the knowledge gained in this course as much at home as at the office.
Outcome 1: The lid: Up or down?
There is no right or wrong answer to this frequently asked question. A compromise between yourself and your spouse (if applicable) needs to be reached in order to satisfy all users of home toilet and bathroom facilities. This is not good enough justification for a divorce!
Outcome 2: The lock on the door
It’s interesting to note that approximately 95% of all stalls’ doors in public restrooms (including toilets at airports, stations, and restaurants), and around 60% in office blocks, appear to be broken. Like in FUBAR (F*c*ed Up Beyond All Repair). What I fail to understand, is how these get broken in the first place. The lock, whether it’s a slider or a turn-type device, should be SABS approved for millions of uses before naturally becoming defective. But it seems that guys constantly try to pry open and close these poor things with all the strength that they can master, hence succeeding in breaking them within hours of installation.
In this objective, students will, with the necessary practical experience, learn to open and close such door locks to retain their state of being fully functional and serviceable for the next user thereof. Because everybody who has tried to use a toilet while keeping an eye (and one foot) on the semi-open door knows that this can never be a pleasurable experience.
Outcome 3: The hole in the door
This amazing phenomena is more relevant to public places. Why and how there must always be a hole in the door (and in some cases even in the dividers between stalls), is a total mystery to me. And it seems like the efforts of people closing these up with pieces of white gold (toilet paper if you haven’t been in the army) are generally in total vain. I’ve never been a pervert and I also will never be one. But just the thought of someone’s eye appearing at such hole in the door while I’m trying my best to have a quick crap, is enough to drive me into a serious state of prolonged constipation.
In this objective, students will be forcefully taught how to resist the urge to make holes in toilet doors. In the practical session that will follow, they will be forced to use the toilet whilst someone is peeping through such a hole, making soft, snickering noises with the occasional grunt or two.
Outcome 4: Using the toilet whilst standing up
Guys, I do not care how much you admire yourself in the mirror and how many times per day you do this. Nor am I impressed with your wife or girlfriend’s constant verbal appreciation of your beautiful body and the incredible size of what-ever dangles from it. That thing that you need to wee with, is much, much smaller than what you would like to think. So PLEASE stand closer to the pot. You cannot roll it out like a fire hose. And this is the time when you HAVE to put the lid UP. There is nothing more revolting than having to use a toilet which is sprayed with your urine. Or having to clean up after someone else in order to sit down. Sisss man!!
In this objective, students will be forced to drink lots of beer and to then practice the fine art of taking a leak without spraying the floor, the lid or the walls of the stall.
Outcome 5: Wrapping up
When in doubt, FLUSH. When still in doubt, FLUSH AGAIN. Look back. Make sure that everything is gone and gone for good. Just before opening the door, ensure one final time that there are no bits of paper or revolting submarines floating around to the dismay of me or who-ever needs to use the toilet after you’re gone.
This outcome is mostly of practical nature.
Outcome 6: Urinal Rules
• Given a string of unoccupied urinals, you should always choose one on the outside. When one outside urinal is occupied, use the other side, then middle. Avoid standing directly next to somebody at all costs.
For example, given seven urinals, here are acceptable configurations:
X...... (X == occupied, . = empty)
X.....X
X..X..X
X.X.X.X
XXX.X.X **
XXX.XXX **
XXXXXXX **
** Note that the last three options are only acceptable when significant "privacy" dividers are available. If the urinals aren't divided, use a toilet.
• Always look at the wall. Looking down means you're obsessed or don't know what you're doing. Looking at other people is threatening.
• Flushing is optional. Over time, the water will become a rich orange. At this point, flushing is mandatory.
• Don't start unzipping until you're protected by the privacy of the urinal. Don't step back until you've closed your pants again.
Outcome 7: Special Cases
Some facilities nowadays have co-ed bathrooms. New rules apply for dealing with the females:
a. Never, ever, comment on how they look in the morning.
b. Don't ask what the little wastebasket is for.
c. If urinals are present, only use them when you are 100% sure that there are absolutely no females are around. If you are noticed by a female, try your best to ignore her presence until you're fully dressed.
Portable (outside) toilets and similar constructions are evil. Use them only if absolutely no other options are available.
In the woods, far from civilization, restrooms are typically not available. Get behind sufficient growth so that you’re completely invisible to the remainder of your party, before you begin. Check carefully that you aren't near any sort of animal or insect den. Ants are especially bad. If you forgot toilet paper, bring a leaf identifying guide. Poison oak makes a poor substitute for toilet paper.
Outcome 8: General rules of conduct:
The following general points will be studied and debated:
• Cleaners are synchronized to clean all toilets on all floors of the building at exactly the same time of the day. So if you find a yellow warning sign in front of the door of facility number one, do not even bother to try another location. They will also be in the process of being cleaned.
• You will always be the one to discover that the toilet paper is done. Like in finished. We do not have politically correct suggestions of how best to address this issue, because it is not cool for guys to sit and chit-chat whilst having a poo. May the force be with you.
• Unlike their female fellow earth inhabitants, guys to not go to the loo in masses. They do it on their own, they do not talk to each other while having a leak or washing their hands, and they do not look at other guy’s tools. It’s just not on.
• If you hear funny noised in the stall next door, do not make a sound, pretend that you did not hear anything.
• If you happen to be a little more noisy than desirable, wait until everyone has vacated the space before exiting quickly and silently. Grunting is not permissible.
• A quick glance in the mirror is permissible, but absolutely don't spend a significant time arranging hair, clothing, etc. Zit popping is only permissible after checking to see nobody else is around.
• If you must wait in line to use the facilities, form a single-file line, and be sure to keep looking around. Read the graffiti if and when available.
• And finally: Murphy’s 4th law of gravitation will be studied at length: Guys, no matter how well or how many time you shake, the last drop will ALWAYS be in your pants. . .
Until the next time that we meet in the boy’s room. . .
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Friday, August 7, 2009
The Last Checkride
I do believe that flying, or General Aviation (GA) is in some people's blood. A structural component of your DNA. I may have mentioned that I've done my Private Pilot License (PPL) a couple of years ago, actually completed it, but then the risk of flying, together with the stress of an ongoing divorce, was just too high for me. So I stopped real-life flying and reverted back to the much safer world of Flight Simulation.
Without disclosing too much details, I've also made a couple of very difficult (and probably wrong) decisions, especially in terms of a very popular virtual organisation which carried me through some of the most difficult months years and months of my life. I've met great friends there, most of them virtually, some even in real life. Great and sincere blokes who shared the same passion and DNA structure as me. But yeah, that's something that I probably will never have the guts to try and change. Although I miss that organisation and the people behind it every darn day of my life. (Another (very bad) bit of my DNA is not to be able to kiss and make up, even when it was my fault in the first place)
Anyhow, I still look up every time that I hear an aircraft passing overhead. I still believe that, should I ever have the opportunity to re-live my life, I would most certainly be an Air Traffic Controller.
This leads me to something that I would love to post and share with others who feel like me. Note that this is not my own work, I got this somewhere on the Internet many moons ago, but it's something that I must have read a zillion times in total.
I hope you will enjoy this as much as I have.
THE LAST CHECKRIDE
I hope there's a place way up in the sky,
where old flyers can go on the day they die.
A place where a guy can buy a cold beer,
for a friend and a comrade, whose memory is dear.
A place where no doctor or lawyer can tread,
nor an FAA type would 'ere be caught dead.
Just a quaint little place, kind of dark, full of smoke,
where they like to sing loud, and love a good joke.
The kind of a place where a lady could go,
and feel safe and protected by the men she would know.
There must be a place where old flyers go,
when their flying is finished, and their airspeed gets low.
Where the whiskey is old, and the women are young,
and songs about flying and dying are sung.
Where you'd see all the fellows who'd flown west before,
and they'd call out your name, as you came through the door.
Who would buy you a drink, if your thirst should be bad,
and relate to others, "He was quite a good lad".
And then through the mist, you'd spot an old guy,
you had not seen in years, though he taught you to fly.
He'd nod his old head, and grin ear to ear,
And say, "Welcome, my son, I'm pleased that you're here.
For this is the place where the true flyers come,
when their journey is over, and their war has been won.
They've come here at last to be safe and alone,
from the government clerk, and the management clone,
Politicians and lawyers, the Feds and the noise,
where all hours are happy, and they're all good ole' boys.
You can relax with a cold one,
maybe deal from a deck, this is heaven my son.....
You've passed your last check!"
(Author Unknown)
ZS-ETB/ZS-SOS/ZS-AWM/Springbok-222 in the blocks, request shutdown clearance...
Without disclosing too much details, I've also made a couple of very difficult (and probably wrong) decisions, especially in terms of a very popular virtual organisation which carried me through some of the most difficult months years and months of my life. I've met great friends there, most of them virtually, some even in real life. Great and sincere blokes who shared the same passion and DNA structure as me. But yeah, that's something that I probably will never have the guts to try and change. Although I miss that organisation and the people behind it every darn day of my life. (Another (very bad) bit of my DNA is not to be able to kiss and make up, even when it was my fault in the first place)
Anyhow, I still look up every time that I hear an aircraft passing overhead. I still believe that, should I ever have the opportunity to re-live my life, I would most certainly be an Air Traffic Controller.
This leads me to something that I would love to post and share with others who feel like me. Note that this is not my own work, I got this somewhere on the Internet many moons ago, but it's something that I must have read a zillion times in total.
I hope you will enjoy this as much as I have.
THE LAST CHECKRIDE
I hope there's a place way up in the sky,
where old flyers can go on the day they die.
A place where a guy can buy a cold beer,
for a friend and a comrade, whose memory is dear.
A place where no doctor or lawyer can tread,
nor an FAA type would 'ere be caught dead.
Just a quaint little place, kind of dark, full of smoke,
where they like to sing loud, and love a good joke.
The kind of a place where a lady could go,
and feel safe and protected by the men she would know.
There must be a place where old flyers go,
when their flying is finished, and their airspeed gets low.
Where the whiskey is old, and the women are young,
and songs about flying and dying are sung.
Where you'd see all the fellows who'd flown west before,
and they'd call out your name, as you came through the door.
Who would buy you a drink, if your thirst should be bad,
and relate to others, "He was quite a good lad".
And then through the mist, you'd spot an old guy,
you had not seen in years, though he taught you to fly.
He'd nod his old head, and grin ear to ear,
And say, "Welcome, my son, I'm pleased that you're here.
For this is the place where the true flyers come,
when their journey is over, and their war has been won.
They've come here at last to be safe and alone,
from the government clerk, and the management clone,
Politicians and lawyers, the Feds and the noise,
where all hours are happy, and they're all good ole' boys.
You can relax with a cold one,
maybe deal from a deck, this is heaven my son.....
You've passed your last check!"
(Author Unknown)
ZS-ETB/ZS-SOS/ZS-AWM/Springbok-222 in the blocks, request shutdown clearance...
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Goeie môre!
Ek hoop JY lees hierdie blog. Ja, JY wat saam met my werk! En lees asseblief die volgende vrywaring (‘disclaimer’ as jy dalk nie basiese Afrikaans 101 kon slaag nie):
Hierdie blog is totale fiksie. Enige plekke, persone or situasies is die resultaat van die skrywer se ooraktiewe en mega-sensitiewe breinselle.
Ek het nog altyd ‘n kleintjie dood aan blatante slegte maniere. My ma het my van kindsbeen af geleer dat mens ander mense groet, en dat vriendelikheid niks kos nie. Maar dit wil vir my voorkom asof die oorgrote meerderheid van mense?? wat saam met my werk (lees weer eens die disclaimer,) te goed of the slim of te hoog of te geleerd is om hulle enigsins te steur aan die mees basiese aspek van goeie maniere, en dit is om ‘n mens te groet.
Ek verwag geensins dat jy my om die hals moet val en elke oggend ‘n oop-bek Franse kus hoef te gee nie. Inteendeel. Jy hoef ook nie my hand te skud of my agter die blad te klap nie, ek hou net so min van fisiese kontak met jou soos wat jy dit verpes. Al wat jou aansien in my oë van minus 100 persent tot in die lae groen gaan lig, is net as jy ten minste jou bek sal oopmaak vir my goeie môre se wanneer jy in die kantoor inkom en ek alreeds hier is.
Kom ons kyk gou na die gewone, sosiaal aanvaarbare protokol:
Tradisioneel, anderskleurige mense sal normaalweg nie ‘n voorheen bevoorregte persoon eerste groet nie; dit was in daardie dae ‘n wyse van repek en die vertoon van onderdanigheid. Ek het geen probleem daarmee nie, ek verstaan dit en respekteer daardie houding van jou, indien van toepassing. (Maar dis nie waaroor hierdie blog gaan nie – want JY aan wie ek skryf weet baie goed day JY nie in daardie kategorie val nie.)
Wanneer ‘n mens in ‘n kantoor of huis or area instap waar ander mense besig is, is dit die norm om (a) te klop, (b) te groet, en (c) om verskoning te vra as jy laat is. Dis jou plig en jou vertoon van goeie maniere en respek. Hoekom jy in die eerste plek laat is, is ‘n blog vir ‘n ander dag.
So: Wanneer jy soggens in ons oop-plan werksomgewing inkom, en ek (of ander) alreeds hier is, is jy in presies dieselfde situasie. JY betree iemand anders se spasie, en die onus is op JOU om wie-ook-al wat alreeds hier is, ten minste te groet. Nie anders-om nie. Indien jy dit nie kan of wil of sal doen nie, gaan ek jou verseker vir die res van die dag ignoreer. Jou moer ook. En ek dink verseker minder van jou as persoon as van die skoonmaker of die sekuriteits-wag wat ten minste die moeite doen om goeie maniere aan die dag te lê. Let wel, jy is nie beter as ander nie, al dink jy ooglopend so. Ek gee nie 'n donner om wat jy al in jou lewe bereik het of hoe great jy met wat ook al is nie, as jy nie maniere het nie, kan jy hel toe gaan. Met my komplimente en jou eenrigting kaartjie.
As die bogenoemde enigsins in teenstryd is met jou taal of kultuur or sosiale aansien of posisie, praat met my sodat ek ten minste kan verstaan en sodat ek my persepsie van die mees basiese aspek van saamwerk en samehorigheid in die werksomgewing kan verander.
Net weer die disclaimer:
Hierdie blog is totale fiksie. Enige plekke, persone or situasies is die resultaat van die skrywer se ooraktiewe en megasensitiewe breinselle.
Tot jy my weer môre ignoreer … en vice versa. . .
Hierdie blog is totale fiksie. Enige plekke, persone or situasies is die resultaat van die skrywer se ooraktiewe en mega-sensitiewe breinselle.
Ek het nog altyd ‘n kleintjie dood aan blatante slegte maniere. My ma het my van kindsbeen af geleer dat mens ander mense groet, en dat vriendelikheid niks kos nie. Maar dit wil vir my voorkom asof die oorgrote meerderheid van mense?? wat saam met my werk (lees weer eens die disclaimer,) te goed of the slim of te hoog of te geleerd is om hulle enigsins te steur aan die mees basiese aspek van goeie maniere, en dit is om ‘n mens te groet.
Ek verwag geensins dat jy my om die hals moet val en elke oggend ‘n oop-bek Franse kus hoef te gee nie. Inteendeel. Jy hoef ook nie my hand te skud of my agter die blad te klap nie, ek hou net so min van fisiese kontak met jou soos wat jy dit verpes. Al wat jou aansien in my oë van minus 100 persent tot in die lae groen gaan lig, is net as jy ten minste jou bek sal oopmaak vir my goeie môre se wanneer jy in die kantoor inkom en ek alreeds hier is.
Kom ons kyk gou na die gewone, sosiaal aanvaarbare protokol:
Tradisioneel, anderskleurige mense sal normaalweg nie ‘n voorheen bevoorregte persoon eerste groet nie; dit was in daardie dae ‘n wyse van repek en die vertoon van onderdanigheid. Ek het geen probleem daarmee nie, ek verstaan dit en respekteer daardie houding van jou, indien van toepassing. (Maar dis nie waaroor hierdie blog gaan nie – want JY aan wie ek skryf weet baie goed day JY nie in daardie kategorie val nie.)
Wanneer ‘n mens in ‘n kantoor of huis or area instap waar ander mense besig is, is dit die norm om (a) te klop, (b) te groet, en (c) om verskoning te vra as jy laat is. Dis jou plig en jou vertoon van goeie maniere en respek. Hoekom jy in die eerste plek laat is, is ‘n blog vir ‘n ander dag.
So: Wanneer jy soggens in ons oop-plan werksomgewing inkom, en ek (of ander) alreeds hier is, is jy in presies dieselfde situasie. JY betree iemand anders se spasie, en die onus is op JOU om wie-ook-al wat alreeds hier is, ten minste te groet. Nie anders-om nie. Indien jy dit nie kan of wil of sal doen nie, gaan ek jou verseker vir die res van die dag ignoreer. Jou moer ook. En ek dink verseker minder van jou as persoon as van die skoonmaker of die sekuriteits-wag wat ten minste die moeite doen om goeie maniere aan die dag te lê. Let wel, jy is nie beter as ander nie, al dink jy ooglopend so. Ek gee nie 'n donner om wat jy al in jou lewe bereik het of hoe great jy met wat ook al is nie, as jy nie maniere het nie, kan jy hel toe gaan. Met my komplimente en jou eenrigting kaartjie.
As die bogenoemde enigsins in teenstryd is met jou taal of kultuur or sosiale aansien of posisie, praat met my sodat ek ten minste kan verstaan en sodat ek my persepsie van die mees basiese aspek van saamwerk en samehorigheid in die werksomgewing kan verander.
Net weer die disclaimer:
Hierdie blog is totale fiksie. Enige plekke, persone or situasies is die resultaat van die skrywer se ooraktiewe en megasensitiewe breinselle.
Tot jy my weer môre ignoreer … en vice versa. . .
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Dag 6 en 7
O ja, still going strong. Ek gaan nou nie meer elke dag blog op hierdie onderwerp nie - dit raak afgesaag - sal net so elke nou en dan 'n update kom gee.
So: Vir hierdie twee dae: (Bearing in mind vandag is nog nie heeltemal verby nie...)
- - Finansies: Uitgawes: R0. Besparing: R60. Bottom Line: (R820)
- - Aantal sigarette vandag en gister gerook: 0.
Dankie weer eens vir al die ondersteuning - dit help! Sal julle op hoogte hou.
Tot volgende keer. . .
So: Vir hierdie twee dae: (Bearing in mind vandag is nog nie heeltemal verby nie...)
- - Finansies: Uitgawes: R0. Besparing: R60. Bottom Line: (R820)
- - Aantal sigarette vandag en gister gerook: 0.
Dankie weer eens vir al die ondersteuning - dit help! Sal julle op hoogte hou.
Tot volgende keer. . .
Monday, July 27, 2009
Dag 5
DAG 5: Maandag, 27 Julie 2009
Still going strong.
- - Finansies: Uitgawes: R0. Besparing: R30. Bottom Line: (R880)
- - Aantal sigarette vandag gerook: 0.
Still going strong.
- - Finansies: Uitgawes: R0. Besparing: R30. Bottom Line: (R880)
- - Aantal sigarette vandag gerook: 0.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Dag 4
DAG 4: Sondag, 26 Julie 2009
Ek is nog steeds preggies. Darem nie heeltemal so erg soos gister nie, maar daar is nou nuwe simptome. Soos om die heel ONGEHOORDE ding te doen soos om al daai klein takies in en om die huis te doen waarvoor ek nooit tyd-maak nie. Goed in die lapa ophang. Swembad spring-clean. Bokse in die ZOZO-hut pak. Knoppe aan 'n ou laaikas vervang ens. ens. ens. Kompleet asof ek nes-skop. Who knows, miskien kry ek een van die dae 'n non-smoking liefde in my lewe. (Net die gedagte daaraan laat my sommer weer begin rook!!)
- - Finansies: Uitgawes: R0. Besparing: R30. Bottom Line: (R910)
- - Aantal sigarette vandag gerook: 0.
O ja: Vriend-C het vanaand vir my iets opgeklaar: Daai druppeltjies waarmee jy self jou cartridges vervang is veronderstel om net vir EEN 'rook-sessie' (sigaret) te hou - nie genoeg vir 'n pakkie soos die wat jy los te koop kry nie! Nou moet mens net uitwerk hoeveel druppels jy optimaal moet ingooi om die gevoel van een sigaret te kry sonder dat jy elke paar dae R200 op 'n botteltjie re-fill moet gaan spandeer. Want daar is maar net 10ml in die botteltjie - nie seker hoeveel druppels daarin is nie. Ek dink dis iets wat die verkopers van E-Cigarettes bietjie duideliker moet behoort te stel!!
Tot more...
Ek is nog steeds preggies. Darem nie heeltemal so erg soos gister nie, maar daar is nou nuwe simptome. Soos om die heel ONGEHOORDE ding te doen soos om al daai klein takies in en om die huis te doen waarvoor ek nooit tyd-maak nie. Goed in die lapa ophang. Swembad spring-clean. Bokse in die ZOZO-hut pak. Knoppe aan 'n ou laaikas vervang ens. ens. ens. Kompleet asof ek nes-skop. Who knows, miskien kry ek een van die dae 'n non-smoking liefde in my lewe. (Net die gedagte daaraan laat my sommer weer begin rook!!)
- - Finansies: Uitgawes: R0. Besparing: R30. Bottom Line: (R910)
- - Aantal sigarette vandag gerook: 0.
O ja: Vriend-C het vanaand vir my iets opgeklaar: Daai druppeltjies waarmee jy self jou cartridges vervang is veronderstel om net vir EEN 'rook-sessie' (sigaret) te hou - nie genoeg vir 'n pakkie soos die wat jy los te koop kry nie! Nou moet mens net uitwerk hoeveel druppels jy optimaal moet ingooi om die gevoel van een sigaret te kry sonder dat jy elke paar dae R200 op 'n botteltjie re-fill moet gaan spandeer. Want daar is maar net 10ml in die botteltjie - nie seker hoeveel druppels daarin is nie. Ek dink dis iets wat die verkopers van E-Cigarettes bietjie duideliker moet behoort te stel!!
Tot more...
Dag 3
DAG 3: Saterdag, 25 Julie 2009
Wetenskaplike feit (so pas ontdek en ek is seker my naam sal in die anale van die mediese geskiedenis opgeteken word):
OPHOU ROOK MAAK MENS PREGNANT.
Want pregnant vroumense eet mos al die tyd? Well, vandag kon ek nie ophou snack nie. Omtrent 'n hele pakkie peanuts en raisins deurgedraf, die peanutbutter-bottel is nou onder die kwart-merk (skuus C, maar dit was sommer so met die lepel) en ek is steeds bevange met die groot lus vir iets te ete.
Steeds bietjie onseker oor die REFILL cartridges - ek het ene sy 3 druppels gegee, maar die ding het slegs 'n paar teue gegee, nou is hy leeg. Het iemand raad oor hoe mens ordentlike vapour kry uit die re-fill tipe?
- - Finansies: Uitgawes: R0. Besparing: R30 (want ek het mos nie ‘n pakkie sigarette gekoop nie). Bottom Line: (R940)
- - Aantal sigarette vandag gerook: 0. GREAT!
Tot more (terug op kantoor)...
Wetenskaplike feit (so pas ontdek en ek is seker my naam sal in die anale van die mediese geskiedenis opgeteken word):
OPHOU ROOK MAAK MENS PREGNANT.
Want pregnant vroumense eet mos al die tyd? Well, vandag kon ek nie ophou snack nie. Omtrent 'n hele pakkie peanuts en raisins deurgedraf, die peanutbutter-bottel is nou onder die kwart-merk (skuus C, maar dit was sommer so met die lepel) en ek is steeds bevange met die groot lus vir iets te ete.
Steeds bietjie onseker oor die REFILL cartridges - ek het ene sy 3 druppels gegee, maar die ding het slegs 'n paar teue gegee, nou is hy leeg. Het iemand raad oor hoe mens ordentlike vapour kry uit die re-fill tipe?
- - Finansies: Uitgawes: R0. Besparing: R30 (want ek het mos nie ‘n pakkie sigarette gekoop nie). Bottom Line: (R940)
- - Aantal sigarette vandag gerook: 0. GREAT!
Tot more (terug op kantoor)...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
