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Another Night in the Dog Box

Another Night in the Dog Box

by Nathan Zeno, images by Justin McGee / 25.01.2010

“Can I put my hand in your pants?” she said as I was moving like kelp in a storm through the foam. Being a little drunk and the unthinking fool that I am, I said, “yes”. She reached in and grabbed my balls so hard and started to scream at me, “Get your fucking photographer to erase the picture he took of my breasts or I’ll fucking rip your balls off!” I double over in pain shouting, “let go you bitch”, I retaliate the only way I know how, by grabbing her breasts and squeezing, “I feel no pain” she smirked and tightened her vice magazine like grip, it should be easy to get her off. I had no option, I grabbed her by the neck and pushed her down on the low bouncy castle type wall of the foam pit, she bounced off and knocked over a couple of people who looked shocked and horrified, I limp off through the mud and bubbles to, metaphorically, lick my wounds.

The amphetamine yellow road signs everywhere should have been warning enough that everything in Pretoria is just harder and more intense, but I am the kind of asshole who always ignores the warnings, so we went any way.

Sweat Face and I arrive at Dogbox and almost immediately bumped into Liam Lynch, Sweat Face, always eager to impress, introduces himself.
“I met you before” Lynch says. “You were on acid at 44 Stanley”.
“I don’t remember,” says Sweat Face.
“Jesus, McGee!” I say, “44 Stanley? For christsakes, what’s wrong with you?”

Like any good early nineties foam rave there is a husband and wife team manning the foam blower thing while looking disgruntled on the edge of the inflatable dance floor. I make my way to the bar to discover that there is no whiskey, only brandy and coke, black label and Po10cy, Jesus it’s going to be a long night. The place is packed; it’s an absolute pigfuck ( I mean that in the nicest way) to get drinks because everything moves at the pace of a good-natured Saint Bernard. It’s kinda fun waiting at the bar watching the first year students try look like they already fit in as wads of soap bubbles float blissfully into the Pretoria night. Dancing has broken out everywhere and not just in the pit, some people need solid ground to do the techno stomp and have taken over the area behind the DJ booth, some have taken to the mud like demented grape crushers.

Sweat Face is taking pictures for We-Are-Awesome and making people look like hipster douche bags when mostly they are not. This chick walks up to him, takes his camera, flips through some images and hands it back to him. “You’re nothing special” she says and walks off. It’s starting to get messy, the lawn around the dance floor foam pit is a swamp, I trudge though it passing a girl clearly on some powerful hallucinogen, ankle deep in mud and saying, “I am a statue, I was placed here”. McGee is loving the foam pit, watching him I say to Lynch, “We don’t pay him to take pictures.”
“What do you pay him for?”
“We pay him to forget.”
“How much?”
“Not much, he forgets on his own anyway”.

It’s like Flanders and Pretoria people behave like Durban people at the Winston, except more hardcore. I keep finding myself alternatively grinning or shouting at the bar staff. There is a giant red tub of ice I repeatedly am prevented from climbing into. Moe Joe comes on, or starts at some point, not entirely sure of the details but he plays a long and banging electro mayhem set that forces me into the foam. Soon I am soaking and slipping, it’s hard to dance when you’re a big man any way and the slippy-slide nature of the foam pit isn’t helping. This is where I encounter the ball grabber. To me it seems like it was an unfair move on her part, although I suppose me not thinking through that the chances of getting pleasured on a dance floor in full sight was probably really bad judgment.

There is something about electro that inspires a sort of euphoric mischief and the livers in Ptown allow for that mischief to carry on late, so late that the husband and wife team are packing up the pit while the dancing continues. Now bereft of the plastic dance floor and protective cuddly walls the lawn looks like a World War 1 battle field, mud, bodies exhausted and lying prone, a couple of soldiers licking their wounds while the mass fights on. I get lost in a haze of foam and brandy.

In the cold grey dawn it’s hard to sleep on the couch, so we limp to the car, McGee wondering whether his pants are wet from the foam or if he just got so drunk he pissed in them. My balls ache, my head hurts, my thighs feel like a distantly remembered aerobics class and my pants look like four days of festival. We leave Pretoria vacillating between defeat and elation.

This guy is all like, I just did something in there and you'll never know just how awesome it was. Either that or he's evil. Or both.

This guy is all like, I just did something in there and you’ll never know just how awesome it was. Either that or he’s evil. Or both.

Is that guy photo-bombing or did someone just grab him inapproprately

Is that guy photo-bombing or did someone just grab him inapproprately

Later in the evening the septic tank burst.

Later in the evening the septic tank burst.

I refuse to caption pictures of anyone wearing lensless glasses

I refuse to caption pictures of anyone wearing lensless glasses

I wore this shirt in the bald hope that I could get some drowning chick action. Deal with it.

I wore this shirt in the bald hope that I could get some drowning chick action. Deal with it.

Oh My God! My cute 'n hip bag is being disguised by the foam.

Oh My God! My cute ‘n hip bag is being disguised by the foam.

There are all these hot girls in Pretoria with death stares. They practice them when they drink.

There are all these hot girls in Pretoria with death stares. They practice them when they drink.

At certain times of the evening they turned the foam down low so the little people could have a go.

At certain times of the evening they turned the foam down low so the little people could have a go.

I know, I know, my hat is hilarious

I know, I know, my hat is hilarious

This girl is impressed even though it disgusts her

This girl is impressed even though it disgusts her

That Tattoo. No Words.

That Tattoo. No Words.

Remember those ciggarette ads that implied your life would be fantastic if you just looked at one of the boxes? These are those peoples children.

Remember those ciggarette ads that implied your life would be fantastic if you just looked at one of the boxes? These are those peoples children.

This picture is like the last half of my night. Un-captionable.

This picture is like the last half of my night. Un-captionable.

Again, uncaptionable.

Again, uncaptionable.

This guy right here isn't accessing the joy. Maybe it's the plaid.

This guy right here isn’t accessing the joy. Maybe it’s the plaid.

Can you imagine the work it took to make that perfect photo op foam hole. And the dissapointement when he's going to see that it failed.

Can you imagine the work it took to make that perfect photo op foam hole. And the dissapointement when he\’s going to see that it failed.

Who needs ecstasy? I mean, beside that guy behind them.

Who needs ecstasy? I mean, beside that guy behind them.

Something about this picture is a bit creepy. I can't put my finger on it.

Something about this picture is a bit creepy. I can’t put my finger on it.

Everyone needs love. I don't judge.

Everyone needs love. I don’t judge.

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RESPONSES (17)
  1. peter mayhew says:

    nice. looks like the kind of fun im sorta glad i didnt have. man, sometimes i even feel like that bout the winston.

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  2. Mrs says:

    Ace. You South Africans take jolling very seriously. Love it. Photos are top ranking too.

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  3. Rockie says:

    BEST PARTY EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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  4. Nathan Zeno says:

    Sure, I just want to wait for the swelling to go down, so the crotch guard i bought today can fit.

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  5. Tegan Carpenter-Kling says:

    AWESOME party!! was really cool. but wah ha ha ha ha!!! camilla u moron! what were u thinking!

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  6. Soap in a sandbox! says:

    Rad party! I would never be able to look at those shoes the same again, nevermind wear them again.

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  7. Brian Green says:

    This article is badly-written, purposeless wank. The very fact that it’s included, I suspect, is to add legitimacy to the pretty pictures. The giveaway has to be the way in which the supposed writer includes the pet names he has for his friends, bit part players in a semi-fictional, piece of shit story. Hurrah!

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  8. Colijn van Bergen says:

    Haha Camilla, in the future I will never do anything to upset you, damn you’re dangerous girl 😀

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  9. Joe says:

    hey Roger

    Jis im almost impressed….one night in Pretoria and you already have a date

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  10. Nathan Zeno says:

    Next person who infers that McGee is a “friend” gets a visit.

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  11. McGee says:

    Hey Nathan want to go watch a movie tonight im a bit bored here at home

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  12. Nathan Zeno says:

    My moobs are not that sensitive.

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  13. Kevin Goss-Ross says:

    How fucked is McGee’s camera? How fucked are your balls? Can we still have children?

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  14. Anonymous says:

    Kraaaist, the 90’s acid house people would be reeling in their Speckled Rolex graves.

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  15. Graeme Feltham says:

    Love the way you turn debauchery into money, Zero. Reminds me of when I asked you to divide one mound into four. That way I could choose the biggest one. Kinda similar or not?

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  16. Lourie Campher says:

    Awesome party guys, really hoping to see another one coming up in the near future, the last HOORAH before Ramfest!!

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  17. Anonymous says:

    be ni enza amasimba ne

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