Recently I was accused of being 30. I am not being dramatic either, I was properly ACCUSED. And that person then took off never to leave a comment on the blog again. Which is frustrating as I had a lot of questions. For a clearly good looking, strapping, young and brilliant 27 year old man I was quite sad and taken aback.

After much introspection and much crying into my girlfriends tits I decided to do some research and it turns out that 30 ain’t that bad. And here’s 10 reasons why:

1. At the age of thirty I am 26% less likely to make a new years resolution but should I make one then I am 30% more likely to stick to it. Which is awesome for my lungs and that pesky smoking but not so good for my liver. Sorry Milton (I name my liver, so what, fuck you!)
2. Less likely to be gay. Massive relief this. As it turns out 96% of gays know they’re gay by the time their 30. However, I am still only 27 years old so have 3 years in which to wake up with cock in my mouth. I’m not really adverse to sucking cock, I just never saw a cock that inspired me to suck it (tip of the cap to you Louis CK). But here’s to hoping I hold out, unlike Niceone.
3. 30 is not 40!
4. I am much more likely to start balding in my 30′s which is actually awesome. I hear bald dudes get loads of pussy. Just ask my penis (Doesn’t count for the uncircumcised, sorry Niceone)
5. I can finally be that dickhead at the party talking about how radical my 20′s were and shit was totally better then than it is now.
6. My beer belly will really start to show through which is pretty sweet. Everyone trusts and respects the guy braaing if his belly provides shade for his dong and its friends. Soon I shall be the Braai Master. Yes!
7. From the age of 30 my body will start to produce less cells than I need to continue living, this is the slow decay otherwise known as aging. My body is in essence slowly devouring itself. What a way to go!
8. I am much more likely to become a divorcee. Even though I am not married now, this is comforting. Rings don’t close holes and I’m chuffed to read that this really is the case
9. I’ll be able to sleep in the knowledge that by 30 I had my blog featured on MyCitybyNight which is a massive relief (it’s like being given a second chance in the game of life)
10. And finally, the few of you who read this blog, and whom I call friends (Niceone’s mom excluded), will be in my thirties with me!

So you see, call me 30 all you want, I got shit to look forward to!

Because I am cool I got invited to the Cape Town Miller Mansion party last week. Oooooh.

I am not 18 anymore, and the last time I was and fell for one of these ‘secret’ brand parties, the stone tablet invite, secret warehouse and military helicopter delivered nothing more than fucking Wheatus!!?! ‘I’m just a teenage dirtbag baby…’. Christ.

But I suppose Styvesant succeeded in their own satanic way because I smoked a lot of ciggies that night (I was trying to die) and as a result battled a ‘beer = cigarette’ habit for many years to come.

Anyway I went this time too, and boy am I glad I did. Read more

If you made it to 30 years old only to receive a shark freedive, a paraglide and a skydive as your birthday presents, would you think the universe was trying to end you, or just your friends?

Frit•zl |fritˌzil| (also FritZIL!!)

noun ( pl. -s )

1 Austrian pervert gaining widespread infamy when it was discovered that he had locked his daughter in the basement for 20 something years and fathered numerous children with her. These children were in turn subjected to a plethora of lewd and incestuous abuse by their father / grandfather. Kiff.

2 INFORMAL A person who creeps the living shit out of unsuspecting females : Simon Caruthers is the ultimate Fritzl

: Easy there FritZIL!!

verb ( frizled, fritzling ) [ trans. ]

1 The practice of creeping the living shit out of an unsuspecting female : did you see how hard Weazel fritzled that poor doll last night. Heavy.

: Give Hudson 2 tequila’s and he will fritzl ANYTHING!

: Rich dot Mellon fritzls little children in the woods outside their pre-school. Read more

…and then you come across something that ruins things.

I know Lurker is a busy man.

When he is not blogging furiously, he’s thinking about blogging furiously, and when he’s not doing that he’s out there promoting the whAtkiNd!? brand image, so that we may continue to live this charmed existence off the bountiful fruits of our ad revenue…

Bewildering then that one man can still find the time to juggle a burgeoning career in deviant porn and snuf film marketing, a lesser position on his local 5-a-side soccer team, two to three nights a week puking in the urinals of sif pubs throughout the city, an artful mastery of the pterodactyl and the conversion to Orthadox Judaism.

But what I cannot fucking believe is that he has now started modeling, and if you’ve ever seen the Lurker in the rotting flesh then you will know that this is DEFINITELY him.

'Wait, I always remove my boots before I suck dick'

Shame on you lurker, shame.