Life of Bear

Un(bear)able Neigh(bear)s

Hello there all of you in the digi-realm we call the world wide web. Sorry about the heading, got carried away by all the bear-possible puns.

Sorry I have been scarce – we move house and I have yet to sort out a 3G card. The mere thought of having to make contact with those baboons at Vodacom sends me into convulsions; so I would rather go without internet than endure the administrative hell it would entail. But thank you for all your “where are you” emails – that means so much to me!!

In hindsight, it actually is pretty cool not having the internet at home – it means I do something other than Facebook. Like read. Quite novel really. Sometimes I feel like I am back in time to the days of Dr Quin and Selley, reading my manuscript by candlelight… ok, it’s not really like this. Usually I give up reading after 30mins and start watching re-runs of That 70’s show. (pretty cool flashback actually. Eric and Donna and that foreign kid were well groovy).

I know I owe you all at least 3 posts on the exciting lives of my new neighbours. Basically we live in this double-story townhouse, with windows that over look into the courtyards of those next to us. It’s like glorified reality TV. I just sit at my window with some rice-cakes and watch the show. Jeff Probst would love to get his Survivor cams into these people and win that Emmy. Let’s break it down:

1) on the right hand side of us, lives someone I akin to Adolf Frizel. He lives alone. He works from home.  He has not contact with the outside world. He never leaves the house. Ever. Ok, the three times in 4 months that I have seen him leave, he goes out for 6 minutes (to the 7 eleven across the road) and the comes straight back again. Fish says it’s so that his child prisoners in the basement don’t escape. He has large strange, human-shaped bumps in his very over-grown garden that could be bodies. Of the three times I have seen him, he always wears the same stained jacket and has a bad comb-over. He talks to his mother loudly on the phone. I am tempted to steal his mail, get his full name and google him. But I am terrified of what I might find.

The other day he had what looked like a hooker sitting outside his house for 9 hours. She just wouldn’t leave. He then tried to get Fish inside his house to explain the situation. Fish is too afraid to go inside. And he’s a big 6 foot guy. “Friz” also has a strange liking to MSN and will chat online all night.. 3am kinda stuff. I know this because the “BING BONG” noise that MSN makes when you get a chat notification comes thundering through my walls at 3am on a regular basis. At least he is a popular guy. Although I cannot distract myself from the thought that he might be chatting to under-age children on the internet…. creepy.

2) on the left hand side, lives the Manson family. Or something like it. Basically there were 2 lesbians and a little girl. (Currently there is a man living there sometimes as-well but we will get to that later). One lesbian has a job and a car and takes the other lesbian’s kid to school. The other lesbian sits in the garden and carves things out of wood. Usually at 5am or so. I don’t know, it’s weird. It wakes me up. In addition to making money by selling pieces of wood, I think they supplement their income by making tik in their lounge, because I hear them shuffling and moving (what sounds like glass beakers) around all night, non stop. Then someone showers at 4am or so. It’s all very strange.  SIDE NOTE: The one with the job has an annoying barking dog called Rory. Who calls a dog Rory?

The reason I know so much about these people, is that they have screaming loud fights in the middle of the night. One night I was awoken to “well, you don’t have a job or a car and I work my ass off to pay for you and your f*ing child to live here.” See, I am not making this stuff up!

Anyways, so after the huge fight about money, the woman with the car left. Leaving the one with no job (apart from the tik factory) to make a plan. Apparently the plan was inviting her ex-husband back into the picture. I know this because they once had REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY loud sex. It was very awkward, but I kinda of thought that this poor woman had not done it with a man for a while, so I’ll let her loud excitement slide.  However, these two are so often on-again/off-again, I once awoke to the sounds of “Mark, get the F*ck out of my house!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” and she threw all his stuff on the pavement at 2am on New Years Day. Fun times.

It now appears that she is dating BOTH of them. With both of them popping around for sleep-overs from time-to-time. (i know this because I recognise their cars).  However, we might have bust this arrangement up for her, because we had a braai and were making some noise and the her girlfriend (clearly it was her night to sleep over) yelled out the window for us to shut the f*ck up. To which Fish replied – “ya, well we have to listen to you have loud sex all the time.” Silence. I think we just broke it to the one girlfriend that her girlfriend is seeing someone else. A big hulking man called Mark that makes her girlfriend scream in pleasure. Either way, I am quite stoked because since this incident, they have been rather quiet since then.

More exciting shenanigans about my neighbours to follow soon! (I forgot how fun this was!)

You know you love me



Barking mad

I love living where I live.

Bergvliet, Cape Town, South Africa. It is truly the epitome of “the suburbs.” Set at the foot of Elephants Eye, you over look the entire Constantia Wine Valley (not good for my liver). The air is clean and there are plenty of open spaces to explore, including a dairy farm and a large eco-friendly pound, where wildlife are encouraged to flourish (well, until people used to dump their unwanted bunnies in there and they mated like well,… rabbits). On every given day, you can see a flock of geese walking along the side of the road, or be stopped by a Toad Roadblock (there is an entire neighbourhood force that assist in the Endangered Leopard Toad sex lives and during rainy winters they block off the roads so that the toads can get some froggy lovin’ ). And one has to drive cautiously, or you might hit a cow that has wandered out of its field. Throw in some kids on their bicycles, old people frolicking (well, not quite so much… more like shaking their walking sticks in anger when one drives over 40km) and couples walking their dogs, and its paradise. Except for the damn dogs.

Wow, now I'll never get to hump dem bitches

Wow, now I'll never get to hump dem bitches

My neighbours have the truly most annoying, compulsive barking dog in the world. Usually, I can’t stand it when bloggers use their power of the written word and a captive audience (read: there is very bad TV on at the moment) to whinge and whine about their lives. But trust me, this beast of Satan deserves it. The dog is about 8 years old and breathes like it Dark Vader. Seriously, I can hear it gasping over the f*cking wall. However, this is the smallest of its infractions.

It barks. Solidly. All the time. Never EVER ceasing to draw breathe. From 6am when everyone leaves for work, until 6pm when they come home (Ok, that’s not 100% true, in fact my neighbours arrival home is usually interspersed with barking and over-excited breathing. This offers some variety to my day). This also continues right through the weekend, late into the night when they go out. It never stops. Even when I move to the other side of the house, draw the duvet around my head and turn up the TV, l can still hear it’s evil echo.. *whoof whoof whoof*

When I was unemployed for a while, it nearly drove me bananas. To the point where I was plotting it’s untimely demise. In fact, I still am. Now, you guys know I have a problem with eating meat because it harms animals – trust me, I would have absolutely no problem with stealthily ninja-like jumping over the wall in the middle of the night, grabbing hold of its neck and watching the life drain from its body. I am 100% serious. ANYTHING to get some peace. The only reason I have not done it, is because my neighbours will know it was me who killed it (I think me constantly shouting over the wall – shut the f*ck up you stupid f*cking hairball – just might have blown my cover). If we were ever to try and sell our house, we would have to ask the neighbours to take him for a walk (how about off a big, high cliff?) while we show buyers around. Seriously. That’s how bad it is.



The worst part about this, is that the neighbours treat this creature like a small child. He has a full name. (for anonymity, we shall will call him Barney-Child of Saddam Hussien-Stinsten). When the dog has misbehaved, my neighbour will screech at the top of her voice – “Barney-Child of Saddam Hussien-Stinsten!!!!!!!!! That is naughty! Say sorry!!” And when the dog is good, she talks to him (still at sound-barrier breaking point) like he is a retarded, small (evidently deaf) child, using cuddly names like Barnacles . At this point, I would like to remind everyone that this beast (not unlike the 666 beast that Christ mentions in the dawn of the Apocalypse) is actually a DOG. I am not sure my neighbour realises this. Perhaps I should draw pictures of dogs and compare them to lichens / werewolves and stick them under her gate.

I have phoned to complain multiple times during the course of the past few months (sometimes my cuss words over the wall don’t seem to do the trick), and her responses vary – from collapsing into floods of tears about “how could I possibly insult her baby???” (to which I feel insanely guilty for about, 10 seconds and I go back to dreaming about injecting Barney with hydrochloric acid) – to her prize-winning line:

well, you know Bear.. it is the suburbs after all.”

Touché, Mrs Barney-Child of Saddam Hussien-Stinsten, touché.