Megan's Head

A place where Megan gets off her head.

Month: April 2010 (Page 2 of 3)

Survivor survival

I’m not sure I survived this celebrity incarnation of Survivor SA. In fact I was away when my fave, Gys, won a car!! and was voted out, and I confess, I have lost interest ever since, although I did watch last night. I am no longer invested in a winner, which makes the debate of the game so much more interesting all of a sudden.

And what a truly nasty game it actually is. This time it is made worse, and even more complicated by the fact that the contestants have been fighting it out half for themselves and half for charity.

One of the most noticeable things has been the difference in game playing by the men and women. Ashleigh encapsulates a very female game plan; strategy, cunning, deception, and fickleness. Although, it must be pointed out that she won 5 challenges in a row, giving her immunity. That must have taken unbelievable strength and will. The guys all fell down by following a fuzzy belief in hard work, goodwill, food fetching and loyalty, and then they couldn’t understand how it all collapsed for them.

What is interesting for me is how the jury of voted out tribe members couldn’t resist feeling hurt and betrayed by those they would have been forced to do the same to. It’s complicated. And again, a lot is in the editing, for sure. From the beginning Ashleigh looked like the mastermind, but none of the contestants seemed to see it.

Last night’s final session at the last tribal council was really squirmy. Kaz seemed to think it was Ashleigh’s duty to take him with her. Louw was properly hurt and angry, little Sade was woes, and they all took such moral high ground; in a game that is designed to make the winner a skilled manipulator. (Though I loved Gys, who told the world that there was nothing slutty about being an exotic dancer.)

I guess what really put me off last night was Ashleigh’s heartfelt speech at the end about how she had done this for her charity. Ja, only half goes to charity sister. The other half a mil goes to the winner. All the contestants had worthy charities, even that excuse for a celeb, Christina Storm!

I have mixed feelings about who should win. Ashleigh certainly played the game, but it won her no friends or fans. At the end of the day, even though the game really, really sucks, I vote for a bit of humanity, kindness, caring, loyalty. Does that make the winner the un-slutty exotic dancer Gigi?

Diski

Who will teach me to diski dance? I keep seeing the ads all over TV, and it looks like the whole of South Africa has been having secret lessons. Now, I’m no dancer, it’s true, but I want to know the steps! I want to be able to break out in a queue. I want to ‘share’ in the excitement and enthusiasm and world cup fever in an entirely non-soccer way; I don’t care much for the beautiful game. I want to be inspired at PicknPoo. I want to diski down Darling Street!

Really, what is the whole point of having a special South African world cup dance if all it is is an advertising campaign? I put a suggestion in at Virgin Active that maybe they could find someone to teach the diski to us, but nobody responded to my suggestion. They probably didn’t take it out of the suggestion box. Along with my others, mainly complaining about the ubiquitous gym cockroaches. I give up with that idea. But, Virgin Active aside, where can we find someone to teach the thing? Anyone know?

Virgin Active Advantage taking

I haven’t had a big, fat moan for ages, even though there has been quite a lot to whinge about. My car and Reeds Delta, for starters, and then the Gallows Hill (not called that for Nothing) traffic department. Eish.

But today I saw something at gym that literally blew my hair almost totally off my head. Let me start by saying that it is a constant source of irritation to me that Virgin Active gyms have become so ‘child friendly’. I cannot go to the gym in the afternoons, when all of Cape Town momhood are there with their offspring who are in the various stages of learning to swim. They run around the changerooms like fleas. They wee on the shower floors. Their damn nappies fill the bins. They bounce on the scale. Their mothers lapse into exhausted whining. I hate it.

Then there is the special playroom, with child minders to watch over small kids while mommies and/or daddies train and get a bit of ‘me’ time. I have always been relieved by the glass doors, and special button that needs to be pressed before the doors open. Those kids are at least safely locked in, and I can’t see or hear them.

So, back to today. I had just finished training and was on my way to the changeroom when a sexy young girl, barely out of her twenties crawled under the turnstile to get in to the gym. I noticed her because of that ‘g-string sticking out of the top of the jeans’ look that I am too old to understand. She didn’t have a tog bag or anything with her and she made her way to the kids’ playroom. I heard the crying as the door opened and she went inside to fetch her child. This mom had not been at the gym. She had been somewhere else entirely! But conveniently, she had left her child at the gym’s facilities while she went to do other stuff, not at the gym! I. Kid. You. Not. No pun intended. Shocked and disgusted is what I was.

Afrikaaps is Kwaai

afrikaaps.jpgHoor hie’ my broer, gisteraand het ek en Big Friendly Baxter toe gegaan om na Afrikaaps te kyk. En dit was heel en totaal kwaai!

The Baxter was buzzing with a slightly different crowd for this opening night and it was quite exciting to see the usual suspects (of which I suppose I am one!) with a bunch of others, coming to this lekker show. On the way there Big Friendly asked what it was all about and I couldn’t really say, other than I knew it was going to be a mix of styles and forms, looking at the history of Afrikaans. He also made the astute observation in the foyer that on the day Eugene T’s funeral and all that it did to divide, we were a mixed and motley crew gathered together to celebrate die taal.

Once we got inside the theatre I sat back and completely loved the show, from beginning to end, and everything in between. Afrikaaps is a lively documentary on the history of Kaapse Afrikaans and coloured identity performed by Cape Town’s hottest young things. Emile Jansen, Moenier Adams, Bliksmstraal, Blaq Pearl, Jitsvinger, Kyle Sheperd and a gorgeous bass player make up the ensemble, directed by Catherine Henegan.

There will be lots written about this show, in fact Zane Henry’s article in The Big Issue tackles some of the major themes, ideas and comparisons really well, and I know for sure that the crits will have tons to say, which is great. For my part, there are a couple of things I want to single out from the experience.

The first thing that struck me about the show was how there was no narrative or story. This is a departure from traditional theatre that usually doesn’t work for me, but here it does. It’s a bit like a documentary/variety/multimedia show that sticks closely to its message. And the success of the structure and direction of the piece makes the whole thing like a brand new theatre form. This is also what makes this seven unique and strongly individual performers into a cohesive and dynamic team. They work so well together.

I love Jitsvinger. I love how he tastes the words and spins the stories. His strange, long, stick insect body is a theatrical gift and his voice and word power make him truly mesmerising, and moving. I fell in love with Moenier Adams (as did most of the audience; he looks like a little young Johnny Depp) with his gorgeous voice, full on B-Boy moves and his exquisite comic timing and deadpan delivery. Blaq Pearl’s poem was absolutely chilling. She is a strange and dynamic power. I actually loved them all, more and more, throughout the show. And so did last night’s audience who rose like a wave to their feet in ovation at the end.

Now I really hope that everyone goes to see this show. I wished that all my neighbours in my tiny street in Woodstock had been with me last night.

Imagining Magic

Our OBFs (oldest best friends) have a son, Nathan, who goes to the College of Magic here in Cape Town. Whenever we spend time together we hear the fabulous stories of the place, and last night we went to Artscape to see the show Imagine, created and performed by the students of the College of Magic.

Nathan was part of the pre-show in the foyer (repeated at interval). He was a professor who explained to us all about Spidora, the spider lady. And he was brilliant. Nathan is an articulate, clever, passionate performer way beyond his 11 years. Go Nathan!

The show itself was a collection of magic acts strung together by a loose story, with a gorgeous heroine and a snaky villain. Some tricks were spellbinding, like the card trick by Olwethu Dyantyi. Others were cute and funny, and some were great fun with beginner magic.

What made the whole thing fantastic (apart from the totally full house of friends and family and others) was the absolute seriousness of it all. A brilliant and complicated set, that used the stage revolve nogal, as well as fab costumes and brilliant lighting and sound gave the show an air of total professionalism. And of course, it was totally brilliant that everybody got a chance to do their little (or big) bit.

It is obvious to see that the College of Magic is home to a lot of unusual young people, who get given a chance to be part of something truly magical. Bravo Imagine and all involved!

cat in bed

all is good in the world.

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