stiletto adventures

out with the old...

2012-01-20T12:35:00.000+02:00

a new year can only mean one thing- a new wardrobe! after a super serious wardrobe edit last summer, i've realised that i will never again fit into my size 8's and waiting 20 years for pointy toed shoes to come back is just something i don't have the patience for.

in addition, although it is only jan, i'm already planning my wardrobe for my very luxe cruise ship holiday in april to visit the l'il sis- oh yeah, that's what she does now: travels the world on a luxury cruise liner. not too shabby huh?

these are the first few items i need to acquire from target in america. his royal highness, jason wu, is designing a collection for them to be released on the 5th feb and i have my finger on the mouse ready to click away and order online.

maritime midday shopping

boating bliss

nautical formal dinner

wat nog? i've also been in the process of trying to jedi mind trick the bank to give me a large enough bond to actually by a flat opposed to a rented cardboard box and am having a torrid affair with a frenchman...but that's a story for another day.

happy friday all!

urban degree summer season launch

2011-12-14T11:35:00.000+02:00

remember this guy?

he's my very talented friend xanthus viljoen who happens to be the visual merchandiser for urban degree. he was kind enough to invite me to their launch for the summer season last night at cavendish square. and what an event it was- quite the array of guests from natalie becker to lady k @LadyK_za (yes, i'm name dropping- so shoot me) who were all there to see these faboosh displays

although i love my high end designers, i do have a soft spot for the likes of platinum group- urban degree, jenni button, aca joe and vertigo. their simple approach to fashion with fantastic finishes and subtle palette ensures that all the pieces one buys are interchangeable to create a classic and understated ensemble and yet again, they are right on the money with this season's lemon, white and blue hues. the window display alone takes me right into that summer feeling of picnics at kirstenbosch and possibly cycling up the street with a french baguette in the handlebar basket...ok maybe not kloof nek rd but you get the feeling they're aiming for.

i had no idea what to expect at this launch and was pleasantly surprised. i chatted to the staff on hand and was taken aback by their brand loyalty (yes, i know they were still technically working and were not going to dish the dirt.) they genuinely love the company and believe in their product. a clever touch was that all the waitrons were wearing the garments which is always great to see on actual people opposed to emaciated models. this pretty waitron was gracious enough to pose for me in this gorgeous, white, summer dress (are you thinking queen's plate too?)

and for us shoe lovers....

in addition- the "gifting" for the evening was this tree! how very eco conscious. now just to keep victoria (i named her) alive!

clearly, i'm very chuffed with the brand (can you tell?). rush on down to your closest store and see for yourself!

p.s.congratulations on a carefully thought out launch. can't wait for your chunky winter knits next season.

what i've learnt this year

2011-12-13T14:13:00.001+02:00

1- do not shop on online foreign sites unless you are prepared to pay the customs tax
2- boys are for fun, not forever
3-it doesn't matter how many times i go to manhattan, it is never long enough
4-i cut out friends i have outgrown/inherited and they didn't even notice- clearly that was long overdue
5-staying in the same job (which is not your passion) for too long kills the soul
6-when a hairdresser says "it's just a trim"- do not believe him/her! agree on the "trim" before they get scissor happy
7-waxing is not painful and should not be feared- promise
8-cobblestones is the enemy of heels
9-i can actually cook- it's the wanting to cook that i need to work on
10-my lil sis is still my best friend

New Vintage Store-Dr Pachanga

2011-11-30T13:06:00.001+02:00

Located on Bloem St in 210 on Long is this little gem run by a very charming Shop Assistant.
Here's what was on offer today-

New stock arrives next Tuesday and prices are reasonable with dresses at R200 and their current vintage sale of R50/item.

Also new online shopping site www.zando.co.za launching soon with shoes to die for like these beauties

check out their Facebook page here

man up already!

2011-09-23T13:55:00.000+02:00

day one post break up with abf:

that "a" in abf was there for a reason- almost boyfriend but no cigar!
you know i really just don't get it at all. the reason he breaks up with me is because i am too incredible (his words not mine) and he is basically not ready to start a long term relationship and he does not think that he can step up and be the man that i need....er...excuse me?! wtf?

in other words- all those soppy texts of how being with me was life changing and how i could be the woman he marries and how i am everything he never knew he wanted in a woman was what? bs i tell you!

men are retarded. they either break up with you because you turn out to be a psycho stalker crazy chick or in this case because you are everything they want. you just can't win. and the worst part is, i am actually being punished for being good.

wooooooosaaaaaaaaa

f-ing glad i bought my own flowers for my bday now!

life is for living!

2011-09-22T11:34:00.000+02:00

i know that i have been super quiet lately and that is due to a combination of factors such as new job description and balancing a new almost boyfriend (abf) with social commitments etc and from this month of ups and downs this is what i learnt:

1.put yourself first

if you are not your first priority why would you be anyone else's first priority? i realise this sounds extremely self centered, but if you keep giving of yourself and your time, eventually you will have no time left for yourself and neglecting of self leads to being run down and grumpy.

2. if you want something- go get it!

again, no one else is going to do this for you. it's not going to magically land on your lap which is why i have ordered my own flowers from a florist for my birthday cos no one will be as thoughtful as myself regarding what i want and need

3. procrastinating is a way to get you nowhere fast

i am the ultimate culprit in this sense. i tend to spend all my time weighing up the options and the outcomes of said options that i tend to forget that i need to actually make a decision. life is for living, so make a choice and que serra, serra. afterall, life is supposed to be messy and not perfect.

4. laugh more, dance more and don't take life so seriously...

...which leads to insomnia and interrupted sleep because you brain just can't switch off whilst worrying about the perfect meeting presentation

5. cherish your friends and celebrate their accomplishments- birthdays, losing that 2kg, promotions, finally breaking up with the douchebag- everything!

so often our friends are the ones we turn to to offload, but how often do we share and genuinely celebrate their accomplishments?

6. people who care about you will make the effort

i hate bdays. i hate being the centre of attention. i hate being a host and worrying that everyone is getting along and that the event is running smoothly. i prefer to be the puppet master behind the scenes. in fact, i hate bdays so much, i was going to just celebrate on my own and drain a few bottle of vino and dance in my living room, but a fabulous gf reminded me that i am awesome and that alone deserves to be celebrated. amen to that!

wedding envy

2011-08-30T09:13:00.000+02:00

saw this post on A Cup of Jo about her mates who got hitched at new york city hall and just love, love love it! making me think that i don't need the meringue dress and boys choir and super long train. o'd rather spend all that moola on an incredible honeymoon! food for thought huh? anyhoo, here are the exquisite pix

how stylescoop (ed) my pride and ghd

2011-08-10T16:29:00.002+02:00

so this weekend i came up with a variation on planking. as stiff (see what i did there) as the concept is, i was the first to do it in style this weekend. let me set the scene: it's post party and my mates and i are standing in the queue at mohammed's, on long street, waiting for our much anticipated hot dog. (i wanted one so badly, that i started going on about it before we even made it up the stairs to waiting room.) in fact, i think the only reason i drank so much was so that i knew my appetite would be appreciative of the horse "meat" (is it suposed to be grey?) and condiments that is the deliciousness of food at 4 in the morning.

anyhoo, so there i was. super impressed with yours truly for being able to carry myself with such grace in the state that i was in, handbag snootily draped over the elbow (a la blair waldorf) and ready to strut away armed with my hot dog and as i took my first step off the pavement, i misstepped and with no arms to save myself, landed face first a la plank, on the street. i insisted that my misjudgement was due to the earth deciding to rotate at that very moment, but to add insult to injury, my hot dog was now well aquainted with the pavement too and to my horror, that cracking sound was not in fact my injured hip, but the outer casing of my ghd flat iron in my handbag (don't tell me i'm not prepared). i did what any logical person would do, swiftly got up, turned to mohammed and cried, which got me a free hot dog. and they say chivalry is dead...tsk,tsk.

p.s. in a very unashamed plug- me needs a new flat iron so lookie, lookie over here and become a fan of stylescoop and ghd

i want to kick myself!

2011-07-25T15:15:00.000+02:00

the shoe for the spring season is the wedge. there. i said it. and am having the worst case of shopper's procrastination remorse. yes, it is a syndrome.

on my holiday in manhattan i er'd and ah'd for so long that by the time i actually made up my mind, the shoe du jour was sold out. it happens that quickly in the big apple.

the deanna by julian louis for aldo

i also had my reservations about the wedges, but then, see them in this light

and now they keep popping up everywhere

if you see them anywhere, buy it. don't think about it, don't breathe, just get them!

sharing is caring

2011-07-22T09:04:00.000+02:00

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

there's nothing better than the sheer elation one feels when telling your bestie about a secret that few people know, but since i hate gossip and the volume of speculation that becomes unfounded fact through the grapevine, my secrets are more of the good natured kind and here is what you need to know this weekend:

purr in the lifestyle centre on kloof street are having a 30-50% sale on WOZA labels such as christopher strong, tart, strip and maya prass. support local designers ladies!

tomorrow is the launch of city bowl fashion market- hallelujah! it's location is 14 hope street in gardens. all you vintage lovers should camp out over night 'cos the incredible bags you can score at ridiculously low prices would be worth the cold overnight! trust me on this one!

and monday 25th july is the launch of amber jones's collection at monsieur price.

those shorts are on my hitlist!

now all we have to do is wait for that sms from the bank at midnight and it's game on! happy shopping y'all

with a little help from my friends

2011-07-18T09:10:00.002+02:00

this is my friend b-man: kean bean, super sweet, millionaire in the making and stylistically challenged.

my eyes, my eyes- they hurt!

bless his cotton mismatched socks. b-man, in his infinite wisdom, requested the guidance of yours truly to help him build a wardrobe that essentially covered the basics and no matter how one paired it together would always work. (challenge accepted).

the initial inspection of his current wardrobe left me horrified. a multitude of namesake souvenir t-shirts circa the days of “school holidays with the family”, acrylic/ viscose- water and fire resistant shirts and badly fitting trousers and jeans and all of it doing absolutely nothing for his physique or the image he would like to portray.

task 1- decide what image b-man wanted to portray.

after a series of questions, we decided that the classic, clean lined, understated wardrobe is what we should begin with in order to build on the basics and then include a few signature pieces that would make this style his own. now i’m no stylist and have never claimed to be fashion forward, but i do know what looks good on a guy, so off we went to visit another friend of mine at urban degree- xanthus viljoen.

xanthus viljoen- merchandiser- so he knows how to package the... erm..goods

i absolutely love this brand for their simple approach to contemporary casual wear. the quality of the clothing is superb and with very subtle changes to their colour palette, if one only ever shopped here, all of your wardrobe would be colour compatible. fundamentally it’s "fashion impaired proof."

every man needs the following in their wardrobe:

1 crisp white collared shirt

1 v-neck white / grey/navy t-shirt

a great pair of chinos

we added a navy v-neck jumper and an oatmeal coloured snood. and ta daaaaaaaa!

so simple and can you see that giant smile? me thinks my work is done. but alas, it is not. we took it one step further and integrated the newly purchased items with items b-man already owned and came up with this:

and this

i must say that I am quite chuffed with how things turned out and can imagine him walking along the riviera on the way to sundowners.

p.s.- b-man is single and ready to mingle. ladies one at a time please

open your eyes

2011-07-12T10:06:00.001+02:00

it's been a horrible few weeks lately. between a few colleagues being mugged, one at gun point and another in a car accident which resulted in him becoming paralysed, it's made me really take a good, hard look at my life and how safe and prepared i really am should i ever be in a situation like that.

i've just had an hiv test performed at my work, as i decided that it is time to be an adult and take out life insurance. i don't know why, but i am always super anxious about the results. it's ridiculous, since i get tested regularly and already know the outcome, but still i feel like i'm waiting for the results to whether i have passed my exams or something.

sab have also launched a new initiative #noregretfriday which not only encourages us to not drink and drive, but to take a cab or have good fellows drive you and your car home for you on a night where one has had too much too drink. great idea sab, but it really should be #noregretsever in my opinion.

and then there's a new cosmetic product on the market by 2lovemylips. not only is it a lip plumping lip gloss, but every product also comes with 2 spiked drinks testing strips. so if you suspect that your drink has been spiked- alcholic or non alcoholic beverages, one can test a drop of the liquid and if the colour changes it means your drink has in fact been spiked and it also comes with a nifty little safety guide about how to stay safe when one goes out. genius idea!

as proud as i am of how far our country has come, we as women are still very non chalant about our safety and have that "it won't happen to me" attitude. ladies, be aware of your surroundings and what is happening around you. it's that niggling feeling that you ignore that could save your life.

paparazzi princess

2011-07-11T09:25:00.000+02:00

phwoar! one day my prince will come and I'll look like that! you know, just something i had lying around in my closet.

emma watson wearing osca de la renta at the deathly hallows premiere
image courtesy of the telegraph.co.uk

it's all about the curves

2011-07-07T10:23:00.001+02:00

you're going to hate me after you read the next thing, but try and stay with me here. i won a thousand rand gift certificate from levi's through being a loyal follower of styleguidect blog by the doyenne of fashion, ms robyn cooke. ok, you done with the envy now? cool. moving on.

so i'm a little late on the whole curve levi's jeans thing. it launched a few months ago and i was like "eeeeeh, what's the big deal?" so more room in your trunk for you junk. so what? that is, until last night, when i eagerly ran over to the v&a to spend that gift certificate. can i just say it was the most pleasant and quickest jeans buying expedition i've ever had.

(have no idea why my pics are loading sideways and have no idea how to rotate them-eek!)

i walked to the woman's section and the lovely and tall (i wasn't wearing heels cos this new pair i was trying to break in, took a chunk out of my foot), bradley van niekerk came to my assistance. he politely asked me what size and style i was looking for. i said something along the lines of a size 32 or 34 and bold curve to which he responded by having a good old ogle at my derrier. off i went to the change room, armed with just two pairs of jeans. i tried on the first pair and omg! it felt as if it was custom made for my booty! no muffin top, no gaping whole at the back and just clean lines and a shapely rear,aaaaaaaaand i'm only a 29! double bonus!

that's bradley van niekerk hiding in the back

if bradley could tell just from looking at my ass what suits me...well... can you just imagine the possibilites!

and the best part about finding the perfect jeans...it was on sale! so i went ahead and got a denim shirt and a belt too! do yourself a favour ladies, go get your ass measured for curvature and try on a pair. you won't be sorry you did!

thank you robyn cooke!

the truth shall set you free

2011-07-04T11:19:00.005+02:00

you know how you don’t go to the dentist and put it off for so long that by the time you go, you have a toothache so bad it feels like you eyes are going to pop out of your sockets? well, that’s how i feel about hair dressers. you see, i already know what’s wrong with my hair. i know that i am addicted to flat irons and having naturally curly hair, i can’t help but straighten it every morning. now imagine that over ten years- the damage it causes and the amount of products i use to try to restore it’s lustre and shine to no avail.

by last week, i had had enough. no amount of straightening nor serum made any difference to my mane and thus in utter shame and despair i called scar hair. the hair angel- jenny smit, took my call and consulted with me. what a sweetheart! (more on that later).intially, i was calling about the brazilian blowout. the reviews i had read, had my head in such euphoria because of frizz free, glossy goodness, that i failed to see what the cons were from this treatment and yes they certainly are conning you. did you know that the main ingredient they use is formaldehyde? as in the stuff they used to embalm dead bodies! and that when heated, this ingredient becomes toxic and not only endangers you from the fumes, but also everyone else in the hair salon? and no matter how many stylists tell you that their treatment is formaldehyde free, that it is legal for hair product companies to use other names for formaldehyde, such as formalin, just so they can claim that it is formaldehyde free!

then there’s the new kid on the block- the global keratin treatment. see how they throw in the "keratin" in the name so as to take us off the scent of the evil formaldehyde and yes ladies, it’s still in there. the legal amount that is permitted in the product is 0.2% but of course the more that is in the product the straighter and glossier you hair, so most products have up to 2.2% of the formaldehyde in it. here’s the lesson ladies- just because your stylist tells you it’s true, it does not mean that it is so. do your research! afterall, it’s your money and your body and you owe it to yourself.

anyhoo- so after discovering all this, my heart just fell and i had to call jenny again. i told her what i had discovered and she reassured me that we would have a full consult about my concerns and go for a deep conditioning treatment and take it from there. phew- finally, a stylist who actually listened to me and my needs and didn’t coerce me into the hot treatment du jour.

let me just say this- scar hair is not just a salon. it’s a mecca. jenny was waiting for me as i arrived and we went straight into consult. and yes, i had a headful of split ends. as she walked me to the basins she sweetly said ” honey, we’re going to make you feel loads better” and then it all became one indulgent blur with mavis’s magic head massage and then my fashion moment of the century- cling film on my very public, curly hair in a heat contraption that made me look like i was trying to escape the aliens. and of course, this would be the moment when he comes over to say hi- i literally said “oh my god!” out of shock. the hottest stylist i have ever seen- jon from england- gorgeous face, great style, does hair and rides a motor cycle and wait for it....he's straight! and single and just moved to the city, so ladies if you want to make an appointment- he’s your man, for the eye candy alone. (don't say i don't do anything for you).

sorry i’m all over the place, but here’s what i want you to know- jenny spent an entire hour and a half going through my hair section by section with it wrapped around her finger snipping off every split end. my hair now feels so smooth and silky and glossy, i can’t believe it’s mine.

during my 3.5 hours at the salon, i saw transformations that would make jesus’s wine to water look like child’s play. in walked, what i would sterotype as a classical geek and out walked a jean paul gaultier model. even i was a little interested. mature ladies with the chicest haircuts that made me think "that’s what style should look like" and funky little girls with pixie cuts all at the same salon tells me this place is versatile and really for everyone.

verdict- scar hair on kloof street is my kind of place. down to earth, well styled, well informed and open to hear me. actually sounds like my kinda man too!

auto (in)correct

2011-06-20T13:00:00.001+02:00

i recently upgraded my cellphone to the uber sexy smart phone brigade and on sending out my new number to all my contacts, i wanted to sign off by saying a very cutesy "mwah" moi.

unfortunately, in my haste, i signed off "mean" moi. auto correct can be a biatch, but here are some more doozies courtesy of www.damnyouautocorrect.com

shoe porn

2011-06-17T14:09:00.000+02:00

they make my heart flutter

all or nothing at all

2011-06-09T13:50:00.005+02:00

here’s the thing- it’s winter and there are fewer people on the streets. so that makes it twice as hard for the single lass to find a possible mate. and if you haven’t got your winter warmer by now, it’s you and your electric blanket for the win.

and then my gf says to me- "why not just find some one to cuddle with, you know, no strings attached! grrrrrr, i detest that stupid term. nsa- no strings attached. for F&CKS SAKE! i want strings attached! i want expectations met. i want to know that my acquiescing to your request is going to lead somewhere. just this once. and once is all it really takes.

i’m sure you agree that this whole “let’s just be blasé and walk away unaffected” thing is getting very tired and old by now. if every NSA leaves you with that empty feeling and a cold side of the bed, then really what was the point? and if you’re a serial NSA addict (who secretly wants to be in a relationship) then when are you ever going to find a like minded person.

i’m holding out this winter. i will not waiver and compromise on the list. it might sound harsh but really it’s like going into aldo for peep toe heels and walking out with uggs. i know what i want and that’s what i’m getting. vive la revolution!

singleton's awareness day

2011-02-07T19:31:00.002+02:00

It has come to my attention that should you find yourself "significant other challenged" that there are very few places one can go to without having luuuuuurve and hearts and couples making out shoved in your face around Valentine's Day. So I thought we'd take matters into our own hands and thus is the dawning of the new "holiday" Singleton's Awareness Day on the 16th and 17th Feb- yes two days- if not, why not!

To kick it all off, there is an event at the Odeon Cinema at the Pepper Club Hotel. It's pretty elitest cos there are only 29 tickets available for each day. Here's what it's all about:

Screening of Bridget Jones's Diary pluuuuuuuus:
Singletons whiskey as a sponsor so loads of delish cocktails all night long
GHD style lounge to ensure the hair is picture perfect
Benefit Brow Bar for those final touch ups
Canapes to keep the tummy lined

and the (use schmultzy French accent here) piece de resistance-

A charity auction for a "date" with a "hottie". All the proceeds go to charity and the date includes dinner at Pepper Club on the Beach and transfers to and from the hotel in the hotel Rolls Royce Phantom! Baddaboom!

There are also spot prizes and gift bags for guests- so get dialling 021 812 8826- limited seats. This event is going to be epic!
p.s. yes i know this is shameless marketing but seriously i only tell you about the good stuff.

love box

2011-01-17T09:35:00.005+02:00

what is the deal with getting cupped? i can’t imagine anything more inappropriate and violating than being cupped yet this seems to be the norm in cape town these days.

it all really started a few months ago when sir superman was in the queue for the bathroom at bronx. yes i, know- he was kinda asking for it, but that's a topic for another post. it doesn't give anyone the right to get up into your business, let alone in public. from what i hear, the perpetrator actually attempts to be discreet and well... slides a hand under to do what, lord alone knows? check for lumps? fondle? check for size?

so anyways, my group of mates heard the story, thoroughly mocked sir superman and then left it at that. that is, until this weekend where it happened to another friend and this time it really was a shocker: we were at our local backpackers' pool party and it was guests of the backpackers as well as invited guests. my friend (male) went to the bathroom and as he exited was cupped by an unknown. he was completly stunned and didn’t do anything, but ended up hugging it out and then laughing until he got back to us where the shock set in. this offender actually got right in there and felt the entire package. what is that? is that some kind of new flirting technique? you’re weighed and measured and they’re checking to see if you are left wanting? wtf?!

when my friend pointed out who this monster was, he was just a regular hetro looking guy complete with backwards baseball cap (vomit) and beer belly who was just going about his business with his friends and not too perturbed at all. my friend on the other hand felt violated. can you imagine what the equivalent would be for a woman. another woman cupping a boob or changing your tampon for you?

i just don’t get it and am sure this is not the last time this is going to happen either. my advice boys- wear a box. gives a whole new meaning to boys wearing protection.

V-day and vajayjays

2011-01-10T12:59:00.006+02:00

so it’s a new year which brings about resolutions and the like. so to make sure that all is in order, i decided to do all that personal admin that tends to be forgotton the rest of the year hence- the annual gynaecologist check up.

as if i haven’t already begun dreading the goddam V-day which- fyi is only 34 days away, i had my single status underlined and in bold print whilst in the waiting room of the g-man. yup, it was a bunch of couples and me. yeeeeeees, i was the girl on her own getting her vajayjay checked. which brings me to why in the world you would bring a boyfriend/ husband to the gynae?

is he there to hold your hand while some stranger places things in places you really wouldn’t hope to see in porn? or is it training for an at home self exam? i mean really- what do most men know about the inner workings of your punani anyway? they know what to put in there to get themselves off, but when it actually comes to knowing what is located where, i think most men would prefer not to know.

anyhoo, so there i was. promptly at 10am, armed with ipod and magazine and avoiding all eye contact as if it were a reverse staring competition.

tick........tock......................................................tick.

fooking hell! women went in for the consultation and women came out. i even heard laughter and that got me wondering to whether this experience was more ticklish than invasive. or perhaps it was just nervous laughter. what is the etiquette anyway? i always wondered about the grooming aspect for these types of appointments. do you deliberately go for the just waxed, high gloss approach or is au natural acceptable since well, it’s not like you’re trying to impress the doc right?

45 minutes and 4 outdated magazines later i was still waiting. for an impatient person this did not bode well. so the next best thing to do to entertain myself was text the gf.

moi: so you think weddings are the worst place to be when you’re single? try a gynaecologist office. a bunch of couples and me. oh joy

gf: haha it’s baby season, got to love a gynae visit! fun, fun.

moi: it’s been 45 mins already! grrrrrr

gf: you normally don’t have to wait so long when offering to take off your panties...

moi: you would think so! and i have to pay him! somehow this just isn’t right!

gf: at least you pay once off and it’s done. you don’t have to pay in awkward moments and comments later

amen to that.

got to be in it to win it

2010-12-13T13:06:00.001+02:00

mr price via their blog, in the fashion loop, is giving away R600 mr pice voucher. now tell me you don't want that...

so clicky clicky here

need i say more?

2010-11-19T14:40:00.002+02:00

share and share alike

2010-10-20T11:25:00.002+02:00

Don't say I don't ever do anything for you.
Check out this link to enter the most faboosh competition that gives you a chance of winning a day meant for princesses.
Good luck!
xoxo

Summer Loving and then some

2010-09-17T09:52:00.004+02:00

I know that this is shameless plugging of an event, but this is my little brain child and I'm telling you it's awesome! Basically, here's the 411- the last wednesday and thursday of each month is a film screening, but not just any old movie. we put major thought into this.

every month has a different theme- last month was chick flicks, this month is dance films, next month- horror, november has classic films and december has holiday films.

this month being dance films- the film being screened is grease and all that encompasses that genre. the food, decor and wait for it....prizes! all revolve around the 50's era.

180 smackeroos gets you a ticket and baby we're going to make that money work for you!
there's canapes and a welcome beverage on arrival, coke floats and popcorn during the film and in the interval- you better sit down for this one- a huge menu of edibles emanating from the american diner fare and popular foods in the fifties! there is also wine tasting courtesy of leopard leap wines and waffle making- deeeeelish!

and to add the fizz to your soda pop- lucky seat prizes include a chauffeured drive to and from a destination of your choice in a classic car of your choice! can you imagine rolling around in a mustang for the day?! can you?!

and there are other prizes too, but you need to book a seat to ensure you stand a chance to win.

it's a super cool night on the town and who doesn't love grease? so tease that hair, wear the poodle skirt and get ready for grease lighting!

midweek movie night with perks!

2010-08-25T08:45:00.001+02:00

and i'm back in the game

2010-01-15T09:19:00.007+02:00

here's something you didn't know about me- i absolutely love the show "the big bang theory" and to me there is nothing sexier than an awkward geek. ten dollar words and geek speak is kind of a turn on and in light of that, i have made some headway in acquiring myself a little geek of my own. you see after "compatible debacle" (read here if you missed out on it) i felt i had just shot myself in the foot. as personal history proves again and again, i am waaaaaaay too impatient. you know that saying that if you ask for patience, you are given a situation in which to excercise patience...weeeeeeeeeell, stay with me here.

i knew that beau du jour was away for the holidays and loser that i am, deleted his number. i didn't add him as a friend on facebook so i technically had no means whatsoever to contact him except of course telepathically. so i just let it be and then- lil sis got a text from beau du jour's bff to ask her to dinner and it was on. (you are not allowed to comment on the fact that a set of sisters are dating a set of best friends).

my secret undercover skills have clearly rubbed off on her cos she was oh so subtly, sussing out the situation for me as in whether beau du jour had hooked up over the holiday- which he hadn't and then she drops this on me- he is a certified mensa member...you read right people. as in the boy is a genius as in iq levels that are off the charts which in my mind explains why he can't talk to women. holy crap! am i an idiot or what?

to cut a long story short, when lil sis went back to their flat for post dinner drinks, i got an invite and we "reconnected". yay! but stoopid as i am, forgot to ask for his number again and was right back where i started.

(cue crickets chirping)
a week goes by (yeah, sorry for not telling you guys sooner)
no word or text or fb message not even a smoke signal

er....?

i had an almost slip up where i wanted to send him a message via fb but how desperado would that look and then...

text this morning when i woke up for plans tonight...

hee ha!

in other news: it's my las day at the current job. have date tonight and a farewell tomorrow...must stay sober throughout it all. eek! version 2.0 the new stiletto adventures will be with you shortly

nothing is impossible,impossible is nothing

2010-01-11T16:26:00.003+02:00

with just 4 days left to go, i began trawling through all my documents that i have saved over the last few years (i'm a horder) and came across this:

the list

1-is between 28 and 35
2-6ft or taller
3-either shaved hair or longish hair but not unkept
4-beautiful eyes that are deep and soul searching
5-killer smile
6-dimples
7-strong jaw
8-single
9-straight
10-good dancer/ can move well
11-is a great kisser
12-great in bed and is "giving" 13-will take the lead and is a strong person
14-ambitious and knows how to achieve his goals
15-financially stable
16-loves to travel and will take me on trips abroad
17-has his own flat/house
18-has his own car (preferably vintage)
19-great dress sense
20-loves to spoil me
21-thinks the world of me and always puts me first
22-has a great sense of humour
23-doesn’t drink too much
24-does not take drugs
25-will spoon
26-smart- both book and street
27-athletic body
28-can take care of me or defend me and is protective of me (within reason)
29-not too jealous
30-is spontaneous
31-clear skin
32-has no "issues" with family/drugs/religion
33-not judgmental
34-understands my relationship with my sister
35-my sister thinks he’s perfect for me too
36-not afraid to try new things, but has principals and morals
37-is tidy and organized
38-has a sophisticated sense of eclectic lifestyle in décor
39-is some one i can respect
40-is truthful and does not lie when asked for the truth
41-is loyal
42-does not cheat
43-does not look at other women when i’m present
44-who’s eyes light up when i walk into a room
45-smokes cigarettes
46-is a social drinker
47-can cook well
48-can sing in tune
49-is playful and flirtatious
50-has a unique skill like playing an instrument or sport or is artistic in some form
51-reads books
52-watches films
53-gets my “Friends” references
54-is not condescending
55-is humble
56-can mix in all my different social circles
57-"gets" my parents
58-remembers my birthday and anniversaries etc and makes a big deal out of them even when i say not to
59-understands how picky i am about shoes
60-can go to the shop to buy me tampons and be a man about it
61-is my biggest cheerleader but also my pillar of strength
62-will call me when he says he will
63-will tell me when i’m out of line
64-takes a stand for what he believes in
65-is a gentleman
66-understands that i’m impatient
67-can laugh at himself
68-is some one who can fall in love with me

phew- and i thought it was me...no wonder i'm single

reckless abandon

2010-01-06T15:47:00.002+02:00

i officially have 7 working days left until i say "hasta la vista baby" and i can't be in a better mood today. you see, it has just dawned on me that i can actually do absolutely anything i want and not get fired since i've already quit. i mean how crazy is that?

so to pass the time away in between "fake working" and hanging out in the accounts department, i've been trying to come up with things i should do- one for each day that i have left.

today uncle cool and i are drinking champagne in coffee mugs. day 1- check

i still want to show up at work in pyjama's, but i'm thinking i might do a double task that day and come to work still drunk too.

then there's sleeping under my desk

doing inappropriate things in the storeroom (will need to find some one i would actually want to do this with...minor detail)

and of course photocopying my ass

would love to give everyone a good bye cake...laced with weed, but the only thing holding me back is the gluten/wheat allergic peeps

so dear followers/readers/accidental blog finders- lay it on me 'cos i'm game for anything!

'tis the season to be jolly

2010-01-04T13:04:00.002+02:00

new year/ new me. righty ho- welcome back to the land of the living after a whirlwind little holiday extravaganza. i got neeeeeeeeews- so it was the last day of work on the 24th of december. all my mates had been on holiday since the dawn of time and little ol' me was still stuck working for scrooge a.k.a. mr awakward.

i was hungover like a mofo and basically only came in to work to show face. yeah i know, how very diligent of me. everyone was chilling and singing xmas carols as if they had to win votes on idols but mr awkward- king of cheer and all that is good, walks in and says, "urgh, I hate boney m".

eish, wena! it's freakin' xmas. when else are we supposed to play boney m? on mother's day?

anyhoo, so the music is shut off. i'm meandering around the office looking for a safe place to crawl under and hide..i mean die, when mr awkward pops into my office and says this-
"soooooooo, the coffee machine broken today is it?"

mother fu...!

quietly seething, i go to make his coffee which i should of laced with arsenic but being a classy lady and all i did the inevitable,

"here you go mr awkward. oh, and i quit."

whoppa!

and with that i now have exactly 2 weeks to go until i begin the new and improved stilettoadventures v2.0

stay tuned, things just got interesting.

see ya

2009-12-22T12:06:00.005+02:00

thank goodness this year is finally over. i have to admit as far as rotations of the sun go, this one was a doozie. so in that light...

things i have learnt this year:

it's never too late to say you're sorry

myprodol owes me shares in their company

new shoes is the cure all remedy

laughter counts as excercise

my friends are my family

change is not as good as a holiday. a holiday is only as good as the tan you come home with

if you're famous, you were more than likely going to die this year.

my lil sis is my best friend

i am not defined by what i do for a living

the search for a trust fund is still elusive and cannot be found in long street

let's hope next year makes up for this one!

happy holidays all and check you on the flipside
xoxo

compatible debacle

2009-12-18T08:20:00.005+02:00

so i decided to end it before it even really began. or rather before it really began to become something. and since i’m libran, there was only one way to justify my actions – a pro and con list

pro
he dotes on me

con
he’s younger…again

pro
great smile

con
all he does is smile

pro
employed

con
boring job

pro
lives close by

con
lives close by

pro
great …erm “skills”

con
can’t dance

pro
holds my hand

con
no butterflies

con
nothing in common

and really, if he was as interested as he portrays himself to be, i would expect a dinner date by now, but instead i get the “can i drop by to say hi” text…questionable to say the least. now before you go and tell me that i’m mad and that my expectations are unrealistic and based on hollywood films, well they’re not. it’s just common sense really. i’m not asking for all the boxes to be ticked or anything, but at least let’s all be on the same page here.

so i decided, after many rain checks, that today would be the day. today i ask what i need to ask and find out exactly what’s potting. so i sent him a facebook message since doing this in person would make me change my mind when i see his face and doing this via text would take up too many texts and by phone, well, see variation on point one.

i wrote a beautiful, complimentary mail about how refreshing it was to meet some one so honest and sweet and thoughtful and although i’ve had a wonderful little fling, i think that bridging our differences or lack of commonalities is just reaching too far for this to become anything.

there and send. done. no turning back.

tic

toc

tic

no response.

oh fook! he’s going to go stalker on me isn’t he? i’ve sent him over the edge and when i get home i’m going to have rose petals leading to my front door with a knife planted in the wood.

got home and all was fine. check fb- no response. phew, off the hook.

20h00 text message from beau du jour

"would you like to join me for dinner tonight? only if you’re up for it, of course"

for f&!k’s sake! you are bloody kidding me murphy. really? now?

in a total panic. do i presume he read the message and just ignored it and is pretending nothing happened? do i go to dinner and pretend i didn’t send it? 911, hello? help! so i text sir superman. his response- hahahahahahahaha

niiiiiiice. eventually i text the beau back and ask him to please check his messages before asking me to dinner.

i think i let a keeper slip away here ladies. beau du jour responds with-ok then, you’ve got a point, but it was fun and i think you’re pretty great, well, the little i saw of you at least. keep well.

sigh

a bird in the hand...

2009-12-15T08:47:00.000+02:00

i've been having a bit of a crisis of conscience of late which has effectively rendered me quiet hence the lack of blogs. you see, i've met some one (cue the trumpets and marching bands). the most unlikely of matches you ever did see and is he's so sweet he's been giving me toothache. he actually called the day after we met. the day after! like who does that? he texts everyday. calls when he says he will and drops by just to say hi. i could totally get used to being adored. however, herein lies the problem- we have absolutely nothing in common. at all.

take saturday afternoon for example:
i'm lying on the deck of the hotel pool when the beau du jour drops by for another "just to say hi"moment........................................................................................................................................................

(that would be the amount of time we sat in silence)

we have nothing to talk about. he basically sat there grinning at me the entire time. i even tried to strike up conversation about the most random things like does he like, i don't know, heinz ketchup or all gold, which i agree is not very stimulating but wtf?

anyhoo, by the end of the afternoon, i was already planning what i could do to evoke some kind of reaction. i wanted to infuriate him ( i know, my one way ticket to hell is booked. i hear it's warm year round). and then he sent me this text:

thank you for inviting me to the pool this afternoon. you looked radiant. can't wait to see you again.

damnit! he's like a little puppy and i just can't shoot him. well, not yet anyway. and i keep having this little nagging feeling that he could end up being one of those total pyscho's- equipped- with- a- scalpel- murderers.

the story continues-
last night, surprise, surprise the beau du jour wants to come over for a nightcap after dinner with his neice. yeah, ok, i have no qualms with that, but then thank you texts to invite me out. (thank you has recently started working in the hospitality industry and as such, has been working double shifts for eternity which means i never get to see him.) thinking i can do both, i began to get dressed and did the whole make up thing and then beau du jour calls.

crap.
answer/ don't answer?
ring
didn't answer.

(ticket to hell downgraded to economy class)

finish getting ready. call thank you.

moi: so all set to go.

thank you: (whhssssshhh wshhhhhh)

moi: what? where are you? are you in the bathroom?!

thank you: (shhhhhhhhh wshhhhhhh)

moi: oh for f&!k's sake

text him and where is he? bloody claremont. i think not.
plan b- call beau du jour
and it rings
and rings
and...

yup- last night 0 for 2

movie magic

2009-12-14T08:16:00.000+02:00

if you're wondering what i did all day...

2009-12-04T19:05:00.004+02:00

it would be this: waiting to capture that one perfect picture. i think i might consider a career joining the paparazzi.

i can't get no satisfaction

2009-12-02T15:06:00.006+02:00

it is so bloody itchy and i just can't stop myself from scratching. and before you jump the gun, i do not have crabs. you'd have to have sex for that to happen and since i've revirginated myself, very unlikely.

what i'm talking about are these freaking itchy bites caused by the skeeters! i don't even know where to begin. like why is it that they decide to bite you in the most awkward of places? i have one between my knuckles and another in the crook of my arm and yet another on my calf. like how do they decide that that would be the most tender place to have a bite? and the more i'm writing about this, it feels like all three itchy bites are simultaneously iginited with itchiness and i just want to scratch away and i swear it would be more satisfying than walking into blahnik and saying to the store clerk "i'll take the lot. shut shop."

last night was like some mad ass scene from fear and loathing. just as i was drifting off into the land of milk and money, i heard that undeniable zzzzzzzzzz.

i ignored it.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

nah, can't be. my windows are not even open and then, again as i held my breathe so that i could hear better...

zzzzzzzzzzz

for f&!k's sake.

so i did what any rational person would do and i pulled the sheet up over my head.well, that sorted it out for all of 2 mins until i was so hot, i couldn't bare to breathe my own recycled air, so i decided to step it up a notch and moved onto phase two.

phase 2-karate kick the sheets off, flip on the light switch and it's the mother of all stealth force attacks.

i moved with the grace of a geri halliwell and armed with my slipper, i jumped from bed to floor to light switch carefully scanning the room for any signs of zzzzzzzz.

nudda

aaaaaargh fuckit. back to bed.

zzzzzzzzzz

i gave up and stuck my arm out from under the covers and thought to myself, "feast away my friends...tonight, it's you, me and a can of bug spray. game on!"

a fishy affair

2009-12-01T08:28:00.005+02:00

it took a little bit of coaxing, but i decided to go to the investment banker’s year end hoopla. lil sis convinced me that this would be my ideal “cheers” situation where everyone would know my name…well at least my face and a colleague pointed out that if ever there was an ideal situation for me to meet an "economically sound" suitor, that this would be the event to attend. so, dragging my gladiator platformed heels to the aquarium, dressed in my lbd, i went to the event like daniel went to meet the lion.

sometimes i really need to tut, tut, tsk, tsk at my self obsessed self. there were much funnier things to laugh at that night. you see, i forgot that the investment banker’s office was based in tygervallei…as in the northern suburbs. i hear there is a shopping mall and a biltong stand there. i have nothing at all against the northerners, but there is a certain je ne sais quoi that makes me feel like i need a passport everytime i cross that boerewors curtain.

us cosmopolitan folk hear "year end function" and think- dress to impress. evidently, the northerner’s hear "year end function" and think …well, i honestly have no idea, but the outcome involved pants suits and platformed flip flops and slops of the green cross variety. i humbly forgave them this transgression as they were truly a warm bunch of people who didn’t make me feel like that girl from that pic….that is until i was introduced to a senior staff member as the investment banker’s girlfriend on loan. (they’re just filled with the financial speak tonight). they might as well of said the date for hire, but who am i to cause a scene when "moet" is on offer?

the night went off swimmingly (pun intended at the aquarium) with dinner being served in front of the predator tank. i am pleased to report that the aquarium does not have fish on the menu. and i thought i had made it through the event unscathed and then the music started- “ek wil nou huis toe gaan na mamma toe” oh my f-ing word! sokkie- sokkie?! dj’s are actually payed to play this? and then i realized, i am way out of my depth here and there is only one way i’m going to make it to the end. bar tender! make mine a double and the sweet elixir that takes away the pain led me onto the dance floor where i happily lang armed with some random fossil. there’s a lot to be said for dancing your troubles away.

in other news- do you remember my rant about the foil in cigarette boxes? no? refresher over here. well, looks like some one was just as annoyed as i was 'cos the new dunhill boxes have this resealable foil top which supposedly keeps your smokes fresher or in my case, keeps the tobacco bits from finding a resting spot at the bottom of my bag for eternity. gold star for this innovation.

fb f-up

2009-11-27T13:25:00.004+02:00

i'm stuck in a bit of a quandary here. you see i forgot to mention that at halloween shebeen,we got a little bit sozzled. the only reason i knew that we got a little out of hand is because of the photo evidence on facebook the following week.

subsequently, it's not over yet. the investment banker got a mail from his colleague asking him if it was indeed him in a certain pic on fb. you might not think this to be a biggie, but go with me here cos there's a whole lot more to follow.

investment banker was dressed like an american cop on the night. or so he thought. in fact, he looked more like the love boat captain, but i digress. at one particular point in the evening, we decided to take a pic of me and him as if he were frisking my, but being as sloshed as we were it looks more like *cough, cough* i'm being taken from behind. niiiiiiiiiiice.

anyhoo, this is the pic that was sent around investment banker's entire office. it got so bad that they branded the mailer "kaptein span die seile" (for those who don't speak Africanese- captain raise the mast!) and they then proceeded to get the ringtone onto all their cellphones.

wait- but there's more!

naturally, i'm horrified, but i do have a sense of humour. question is, can i smile coyly at being the butt (pun intended) of a joke for an entire evening? investment banker has invited to me to his year end function at the aquarium. needless to say, it will be swankalicious, but if i hear that ringtone, even just once, i might just drown myself in the touch tidal pool. what to do?

do not disturb

2009-11-16T15:51:00.002+02:00

weekly communications meeting minutes 16 nov 09

present: moi…again

absent: mr awkward and uncle cool in jozi and hr lady is off sick

minutes: guess who

	welcome	status
	woke this morning at 6 am. have no idea why since i’m so tired and it’s still 5 more mondays until holidays. hair is standing up in all directions. look like the thing with an electric shock.	check
	action plan
	get up, ghd and go to work. if i make even half an attempt at looking amazing then i’m already a winner today	to be confirmed
	burnt roof of mouth with coffee at work. must master the damn espresso machine frother thingy.	check
	no bosses in today, so totally going to take the piss	in progress
	sales and marketing
	went to communications meeting this morning at nine to give the impression that i am a productive part of this work force.	check
	had to excuse myself half way through as my stomach started grumbling. made a quick dash for my office to grab a bite of an apple. why don't apples taste like chocolate?
action point	must start eating breakfast	to be confirmed
	report back
	typing away all morning. if only they knew i was updating fb status, replying to personal mail and checking up on all mates w/e skinner. joziboy has now got my number. (i didn’t give it to him!) and won’t stop sending me guilt texts- why haven’t you called? please call me it’s been two weeks…er, what am i supposed to do? send a text saying: "in case yo haven’t noticed, i’m still not interested?" haven’t got the heart to say it in so many words to him. get the message already!	in progress
	logistics
	said i was going out to lunch, but high tailed it to canal walk to exchange crappy ensemble for sexy accessories. nearly didn’t make it back in time. nearly didn’t make it back at all! bloody shoe sales.	check
	forecast
	i predict that i’m ending this day with a glass of wine in my hand. my sorry state of finances makes me want to cry and i just can’t stop wanting to spend the little i have left. luckily company bar opens at 5- -free booze	to be confirmed
	next meeting cancelled due to lack of interest	check

satisfied singleton

2009-11-06T13:43:00.005+02:00

helllllllloooooooo you. yes, you. how you been? oooh, is that a new top you're wearing? spiffy.

phew, ok then, all the niceties over and done with, so i can sit down and have a proper chat now.

right, here goes then. you ready? need a drink? all comfy. 'k, here goes then.

couple sucks.

no, really. i'm being deadly serious. the only reason i want to be in a relationship is because everyone else is. having a plus one on an invite is basically a reminder that there is no plus one to fill up that space and quite frankly, i'm tired of being that awkward, just mingle with the couples kind of girl.

and what is being in a relationship really? if you break it down, it basically means compromise on everything!

"no, baby, it's ok, you can have the last one." pfffffffffffffft. (hope you get fat)

you have to consult with the significant other on everything from where you're going to what time you get there, what you'll eat, when you go to the bathroom and what time you leave and when you start napovers- at who's house you'll be staying at.

and that's just a whole other astros box full of crap. schlepping your stuff to his and then realising that no, you didn't take fresh undies or your hair straightening iron and he's now spending ten days in the bathroom and lord alone knows where that smell is coming from.

i'm really trying to see the pro's in being a couple and other than spooning...well? well!

you know what? i really do think i'm better off single plus i'm stuck in my ways now and compromise is just way too much effort. so next time a galpal puts the end in friend by hooking up, i'll just smile. honeymoon phase is all too yummy, that is until reality kicks in and lord knows, i adore fresh sheets with a thread count in the hundreds all to myself and there's no comprimising that!

nightmare on long street

2009-11-03T18:04:00.001+02:00

i make bad choices when it comes to men. wait, let me rephrase that- i make absolutely, shockingly, how drunk were you choices when it comes to men and wait for the pay off line- because i don’t want to hurt their feelings and reject them.

it’s the age old story of your head telling you one thing and your libido, something completely different. you see, joziboy finally, finally came down to cape town, but instead of a surprise visit at my flat with flowers and chocolates and a “how could i possibly have taken so long to come see you” i got a fb message saying “ lost my numbers so call me”

no “please”, no “how are you?” just a cold demand. pffffffft. i completely ignored him. in fact, i should have deleted the contact but no, at halloween shebeen when he came over to say hi, i was too polite for my own good and actually replied with a “hello”. please bare in mind there was no chemistry, no flirting, but copious amounts of alcohol which leads me to the morning after the night before.

the only reason i knew i was at fiction was because of the stamp still on my wrist the following morning and then i turned over and saw him. eeeeeeeeeeuw! how the he..! oh fook! i even contemplated doing a coyote ugly, but what good does that do since i’m in my own flat. i could have tried the, “erm, i’m going out for breakfast so be gone by the time i’m back”, but i’m just not that heartless, so i relied on the dependable, “i have to go to work” (on a sunday? sure) except he wouldn’t budge. he just kept saying how comfortable my bed is. (yeah i know, that's why i bought it.) so i tried again, “do i need to call you a cab?”

nope. nudda.

and this is where i basically kicked him out saying, “i’m going to shower, i need to be at work in fifteen minutes, i’m sorry, but you have to go now.” (opening the front door).

this is not how it’s supposed to go.

he was like the hangover that just didn’t want to go away. no wonder i have so many memory lapses- even my brain was trying to protect me from myself. and the worst part of this all is that i have endorsed his behaviour. now this little one thinks he can treat women with disregard and still be rewarded.

i swear on this very blog that i am done with it all. the ones you should have are taken and the ones you get, render you with amnesia. i think there’s a gap in the market for some kind of service that detects that you’re being stupid, signals an alarm and sends you home. yes, i know most people call it common sense, but common sense and logic went home early that night and all that was left was blind stupidity. whoever said wisdom comes with age was clearly …well, it wasn’t me.

in other news : sir superman’s costume for halloween was a navy outfit. i lost him after fiction but heard he went to bronx …and didn’t return home until the next afternoon. wonder if he hooked up with a cowboy or an indian …

fright night

2009-10-30T10:48:00.004+02:00

at what age does it become inappropriate to still be respectable whilst wearing a fancy dress costume? i'm thinking, i've hit that age, however there are many mornings where i'd wake up and think dang, i want to go to work dressed as batman, wearing a crown with a wand, riding a horsey stick thing, but alas i'm not five anymore.

so it's halloween which coincidentally falls on several of my friends birthdays and yes, of course it's means i have to dress up. so what are my options really? witch, zombie, slutty nurse, slutty cop, slutty cheerleader, catwoman (bahahahahahaaaaa)...mmm?

it's driving me insane. there are so few costume shops in cape town that actually hiring a costume is almost impossible because the costumes they do have, look like it's been pulled from an era before dry cleaning which means i should perhaps make something... pass! with less than a day to go, i'm thinking i'm going as eve from madame and eve. r140 for a maid's outfit. done. it may not be sexy, but it still constitutes a costume.

lil sis said she'd be too embarrassed for me to be seen like that. so i'm back to the drawing board. options now include just boycotting the whole dress up thing and go as "moi from the past" or "sober moi" or i could make a dress out of a black bag and write "i'm trashed" on it, but that also got vitoed by the lil sis. aaaaaargh, now i know why people end up not dressing up, way, waaaaaaaay to much effort to actually think of anything to wear.

i'm just too evolved to play dress up. yup, that must be it.

dancing in the moonlight

2009-10-29T08:43:00.007+02:00

you know it was a good night when you want to high five yourself just for waking up the next morning. although if i were mr awkawd and saw me in my office. i'd probably put a paper bag over my head. blood shot eyes and hair all pulled back in a pony tail is not quite the look i was going for this morning, but i'm at work and dressed with make up and that's a pretty damn good for me, on four hours sleep.

lord alone knows why, but the lil sis, sir superman and i have been prone to mid week shenanigans. and before you go into the gutter- eeeeeeeeuw! come wednesday night, we're all out of party tricks to keep ourselves entertained and with the lack of options on the tube, we had no choice but to hit long street,you know, just to see what we could potentially be missing out on.

(cue crickets chirping and tumbleweed blowing across the street)

did you know that fiction is closed on wednesdays? this was news to me. in fact, our options were super limited.

as an entree- a warmer up drink at the 'hood which ended in a heated debate with foreigners re: reserving of pool tables. according to them, since they were the last people to play pool and even though they had vacated the area for a good half hour, they still had playing rights...er...excuse me, you're in africa now. i don't think soooooooo...

main course consisted of a melange of locals, foreigners and pickpockets at the dubliner. yes, i. went. to. the. dubliner. the only place where you'll find jocks singing to abba and you can unashamedely dance away to the gypsey kings and jump into the pictures of random people.

wednesday nights brings out a weird selection of people. i almost feel like i stumbled into an alternate world where the misfits and alternate crowd hang out. i'v never seen the likes of this bunch out on a friday or saturday night or maybe, maybe wednesday is there night to shine? who knows? all i'm saying is, if the size of the hangover=the amount of fun that was had, then a good night was had by all.

don't say i don't love ya...

2009-10-22T16:44:00.001+02:00

with thanks to www.kimgray.co.za for the heads up
xoxo

mission impossible

2009-10-22T10:38:00.006+02:00

the shite hath hitteth the fan at work. seriously. it's like i'm in some kind of surreal, mexican wrestling match with mr awkward in one corner and uncle cool, complete with mask, cape and adoring fans in the other corner. each day, is a new round and i think to complete this analogy, i'd be the ring girl. needless to say, i don't think sooooooo...

i am now officially looking for greener pastures and let me tell you, that is no mean feat. job hunting during a recession is the equivalent of having a glass of water after a night of jagerbombs. a little bit useless. the only way to actually find a job in one's desired field, would be to enter some sort of reality tv show.

want to be a supermodel? antm

more into business- enter the apprentice

singing more your thing- idols, sa's got talent and what's the afrikaans version of idols again? supersterre?

at this point i'm amazed that there isn't a show just to get the most banal of occupations. maybe something like "check it" to find the next till operating, fast talking shoprite cashier.

can you gossip in an african language about customers infront of them?

can you deliberately work as slowly as possible whilst checking items without the customer calling the manager?

after a trolley load of items, do you offer just one plastic bag?

do you know how to embarrass customers by pretending their debit card is declined?

if this sounds like you, then make sure to enter. auditions at your local store.

uncle cool leaves for the big apple today, which leaves me at the mercy of mr awkward. with my avoidance tactics well honed, deciphering of his mumbled instructions and pre empting of his every move, i think my new career path should be that of secret agent. does the fbi have auditions?

overheard today

2009-10-16T11:38:00.001+02:00

"he kissed me as if it were a secret meant just for me that only i would understand."

(sigh)

there is a shoe god!

2009-10-14T16:05:00.004+02:00

look at what you can win. win! fingers and toes and everything crossed!

wednesday woes

2009-10-07T07:50:00.006+02:00

i don’t know why, but birthdays always stress me out to the max. i’m a simple girl even if that sometimes means i think cuba is near africa and i still stand firm that it is. it’s not like i said it’s near the arctic, but i digresss.

you see, if i had it my way, my birthday would just be my girls, some vino and pj’s and good ol' chick flicks. i’m done with birthdays at clubs and the mother of all events that end up being over catered and underappreciated. the problem is two fold- i can’t have a shindig at me casa because the mad hatter is throwing his tea cups again. according to him, talking in my lounge is unbearable to him. i have to whisper if it’s past ten o’ clock! true story. er…do i live in a library or a church? i think not. last night ended up with another encounter with his royal madness with a rerun a mere ten minutes later. oi vey! i sincerely have no idea what to do about this whack job, at my wits end, i reluctantly went upstairs to his flat, with thank you, gbf and sir superman downstairs, to see if there was any actual validity to his claims. picture the scene if you will. me with my ears on full alert, listening for the offensive noise and all i could hear wait for it…still listening….leaning closer to the floorboards- the crickets chirping and his dimmer switch buzzing…now i know he’s absolutely barking...or...ooooooooor he might just be in love with me. think about it: why else would he actually come downstairs to my front door? he does nothing but make a feeble complaint and then when i retaliate all he does he stand there and stare at me? maybe he's into women who can stand up for themselves or maybe he's just mesmerised by my exotic beauty. sounds like the plot to a kate hudson film. little does he know that this chick does not dig wimps. oh, well.

so with my castle not being an option that means my fiesta will be elsewhere. how’s that saying go- you can’t please all the people all the time and never is there a truer expression. so now there are two celebrations: casual drinks on the actual bday and the mother of all drinking sessions on saturday at a wine festival. aging gracefully is something i'll save for next year.

in other news: i would like to commemorate the passing of dave. i came home last night to see that dave had learnt a new trick. he can now do the sidestroke. well, what should i have expected? there is only so much a fish can do to entertain himself in a fishbowl. at closer inspection though, i knew it was the beginning of the end for my little friend. it was genuinely heartbreaking and there was nothing i could do. dom tried to nudge his bowlmate to get him to start swimming again and eventually was just pushing dave around the bowl. i text the lil sis for a little moral support, but to no avail. her response was to get dave an oversized handbag to you know, balance him out, but i replied that at such short notice, i doubt i could find one that was waterproof. i couldn’t bring myself to send dave to the toilet in the sky. so, there i was just watching for the moment when i could perform cpr. his limp corpse floating around the bowl. dom, nudging him every now and then. i text the lil sis updates and she pointed out that perhaps dom wasn’t trying to revive him, but was more than likely trying to push dave out of the bowl. i mean this is probably freaking him and causing permanent mental damage. and they say fish don’t have feelings.

wish:desire, hope,yearning

2009-10-05T16:56:00.002+02:00

crap. you know when you find something you love, like say, buying shoes and then you think to your wee, l’il self, “gee, wouldn’t it be fun to do that for a living?” yeah, well there’s a reason your parents told you to be careful what you wish for ‘cos it just might come true.

swhat did I wish for? stupidly, i wished to get paid to write. you see, with the still lingering threat of possibly being retrenched (yes, cape town is so 6 months delayed compared to the rest of the world), i thought i’d make my skillset seem more erm…what’s the word i’m looking for…"indisposable" by offering to write copy for our newsletter and internal communicationsat my company. yeah well, a whole fat lot of good that did me. now it’s not only a task that is 100% mine, it has now branched out into copy for websites, print ads, newsletters, e-mail shots, internal communiqué and whatever could possibly require words to be written i.e. contracts, proposals, briefs.

the worst part of it is that i have no editor, no one to give me a brief and no one to proof read and give me advice, so the tone i use for our internal communiqué could very well end up being the tone i use in client e-mail shots because after rewriting something 12 times in different styles and having used the thesaurus function to death, it all just seems the same to me. in fact, i can barely speak at the end of the day because i have so many synonyms, alliteration, hyperbole and other figures of speech just spewing out of my ears, that just picking one way of saying something seems almost banal.

i guess the lesson learnt here is- when you wish for something to come true, make sure you’re specific!

booze,birds and boucers

2009-09-30T10:04:00.007+02:00

wouldn’t it be awesomeness personified, if we had a national sing day. i don’t mean like every city would have a music fest and what not, more like everything you say that day comes out in song. no? just me?

it works so beautifully in moulin rouge…anyhoo, i totally adore the new wimpy ad (click here if you haven't seen it yet- http://adland.tv/commercials/wimpy-bottomless-coke-r995-song-2009-30-south-africa ) total genius and of course i can’t get the melody out of my head and now i want a coke and i don’t even drink fizzy beverages. brilliant advertising, so hats off to the ad agency which brings me to the loeries. oi vey!

you’re probably wondering why i’ve been so quiet of late. truth be told, i am only just beginning to feel like a humanoid again. it was my first experiaaaaance of this type of partying and mixing business and booze is not the wisest of career moves. it all started with the rather sad task of me having to hold a table for my colleagues whilst they all attended the awards ceremony. what is a girl supposed to do by herself with her mates armed with mountains of cash “to entertain our clients. oh, and no receipts required”?

other than the fact that i have a memory of a goldfish and end up repeating the same story again and again in a matter of minutes, to the same person i told it to before, mixing alcohol and different departments in one venue in the name of work, only brings out the competitiveness in the best of us.

my supreme downfall began and ended, when a prospective client handed me an all you can drink voucher which was valid for an hour. challenge extended. let’s just say that by the end of the hour, the balcony bar was out of everything and i do mean everything- no redbull, no beer, no vodka, no glasses.

then with my new found bravado, i coercecd sir superman and thank you to try to blag our way into the super vvie (very,very important ego) party in the tent which took up half of long street.

moi: (sashaying past the bouncers) me plus two
bouncer: do you have tickets?
moi: of course
bouncer: you paid two grand per a ticket?
moi: actually, they were one eight
bouncer: can i see your pass?
moi: why would you want to see them?
bouncer: (raises eyebrow)
moi: helloooooo? do you think i’d wear a pass and ruin this ensemble?
bouncer: ma’am i need to see….
moi: ma’am! how dare you! i’m not 30 yet

clearly, i have issues.

knock two times on the ceiling...

2009-09-23T12:58:00.003+02:00

i was well overdue for making an ass of myself and today was just one of those days. you see, we’ve been having this external professional consult with our company. and by consult, i mean having long ass meetings with mr awkward and uncle cool. the professional’s son happens to work closely in the consultation and as it were and thus we had to liaise quite frequently about arrangements etc.

this has been going on for well over 4 months now and as my interest was slowly peaked, i did the necessaries to ensure that should i invest any time into some sort of flirtation, that he was well worth it. as it turns out, he’s an mba grad and an avid cyclist as well as pretty much the type that ticks all the boxes.

so, after 4 months, i thought hey, why not just put it out there and see what happens. naturally, this was a well calculated extended invite in that he had just finished the session here at work and had said the obligatory goodbye and that’s when i struck.

“hey, so like when this whole thing is finally over in like 2012 or whenever, are you ever going to eventually invite me to drinks.”

safe. to the point. putting myself out there. plus the added bonus that i know he would be travelling back to his office and would probably only respond in about a half hour…or so i thought.

i was just in the middle of telling the story to a colleague and in walks mr mba blackberry in hand, back into mr awkwards office.

oh crap! can the earth just swallow me whole right now, right here.

birthday blues

2009-09-22T11:11:00.004+02:00

shoot! i hate birthdays, but especially my birthday. it means fake smiling through an entire 5 minute, some what melodic arrangement of “happy birthday to you”. i mean, what are you supposed to do? sing along? clap your hands? do pirouhettes? and that’s just one of the reasons i hate this stupid day. there’s the whole arranging of some kind of party or event, where your different spheres of friends and colleagues all have to somehow get along. (thank god for the social lubricant or i would be in trouble on this count.) then getting, if you’re lucky, gifts, that will 9 times out of ten, not come with a receipt so, you’re stuck with regifting it to another unsuspecting friend or acquaintance.

the worst part of it all for me, is the inevitable collating of your life which has brought you to the point at which you currently are.

i’m turning 30. 30! bloody hell. how that happened is beyond me. i honestly thought that by 30 i would have had my act together. the whole nine yards with house, car, husband, great job and maybe the beginnings of a talk about kids or dogs or something. and the worst part is that you look at your peers, and somehow they seem to be on that track. i almost feel as if i missed a secret “how to get your sh&t together” meeting cos even though we went to the same school/college/career, i’m way behind in that aspect of life.

they drink shiraz
i drink jagerbombs
they wear ballet pumps
i wear stilettos
they have a mortgage
i have a clothing allowance
they have children
i have friends who act like children
they have a career
i have a source of income
they have pta meetings
i have fashion week
they are in bed by ten
i only go out at ten

then there’s the other side of the coin: i never wanted to get married. i don’t really see the point, but with the ever increasing sound of the biological clock ticking away, it kinda gets me thinking. what if i changed my mind? and what if i end up meeting a lord of awesomeville and well, he will need an heir and all, so maybe then i’ll actually want to have a kid since it has to be a blood relative and a not an adopted kid from mongolia. so, that means the backward math begins. hypothetically, i want to have a rugrat by the time i’m 35. i want to be married for at least year before that happens so that’s 34. then i want to be engaged for at least a year to plan the mother of all weddings (we can afford it, him being a lord and all) so that brings it to 33. i want to date him for at least 2 years so i’m down to 31. which means i have one year to find and fall in love with a lord. one year! ok, forget mexico, i need to move to monaco now.

flights, funds and flatmates

2009-09-21T16:07:00.004+02:00

so the new flat mate, who i shall now knight as sir superman, has been working out rather nicely. (and people say that you shouldn’t make snap judgment calls! i stand firm that i can sum up a person in under seven seconds and i’m yet to be proven wrong…)

anyhoo, we’ve got a sweet little evening routine that kinda fits in with both our personalities. i get home first and attempt to throw something together in the kitchen, usually ending in toast and tea and by the time i'm done, he’s home and does the same which is followed by him reading subtitles to 7de laan whilst i explain that “klap my dood met a nat snoek” does not translate to “hit me with a wet fish,” but is actually an expression of surprise. luckily he’s english, so he understands the mental addiction to soapies. we all know it’s crap, but we still watch it religiously.

here’s the problem though: if you get good conversation that makes you laugh till you snort wine from your nose at home and you can do it in your pj’s, what’s the point of going out? it’s like we’ve kinda become a symbiotic little unit that doesn’t really need much else to be happy…ok, maybe a little nooky would be nice, but i’m kinda ok with not getting any. it’s not like there is anyone worthy out on long street anyway. and yes you read right: “worthy”.

so where does that leave a sassy, almost thirty year old single lady? i’ll tell you where: i’m saving myself for mexico. bahahahahaaaaa like i can stay out of trouble for long, le problemo is that i kind of have to. money doesn’t grow on trees as much as i would like it to. after much googling and rerouting and transit visa debating, the tickets are booked and the little sis and i are on our way to mexico! well, in 5 months time, which technically gives us loads of time to save and scrimp and beg and borrow to get the money to ensure a lovely trip is had by all.

so, in the spirit of not spending money (i’m still working on the “how to attain more money”)i decided to stay in and dance to my own music and drink my own booze and …yeah, ok, we’ll see how long this lasts, but in the meant time... crap! just got back from the v&a with uncle cool and ended up buying a handbag i’ve been drooling over for a month. this is going to be a looooooooong 5 months!

border patrol

2009-09-15T16:29:00.005+02:00

ok, so now i’m annoyed. what happened to the days of just hopping onto a plane and jetting off into the atmosphere? lil sis and i are trying to book our “fantabulous- celebrating awesomeness- look at us jetsetters” trip to mexico in february, but at this point, it’s seeming just more trouble than it’s worth.

let me elaborate: as much as we want to drink tequila till we puke whilst wearing sombreros and dancing la coco rocha till we’re blue in the face, the world has plotted against us in that there are really only two options to get there- via america or via europe. (yes, i know that's obvious, but just go with it and you'll see why)

via america means having to spend half one’s life at the embassy to obtain a visa and then having to pay for the privilege and via europe means paying for a visa to walk through heathrow! if anything, they should be paying us for our patronage but i digress.

then, of course, there is the fact that although a mexican visa is gratis, one has to have a face to face interview which means going up to pretoria of all places and adding an additional grand onto the fare. have they not heard of skype?

i have googled and rerouted every combination there is, to find a non visa inducing, direct route and it’s still well over the R10k mark per flight. as much as i love living in a traveller’s dream destination, once you’re here, you’re kind of stuck unless of course you’re minted and although that is the plan…eventually, i’m not quite there yet.

so here’s the thing, short of me taking a second job as a domestic cleaner (and you think i'm kidding here, i would too! imagine "stiletto serena,the cleaner" catchy? no?) , i urge all you frequent traveller’s with air miles to do good in the world. give me your airmiles and i will spread joy and laughter on your behalf, mzansi style.

cutting your losses

2009-09-07T17:03:00.004+02:00

you know you should just quit while you’re ahead, but sometimes, (as in those alcohol induced times) you just can’t help yourself and you think “hey, what have i got to lose….” infamous last words i tell you.

the new flat mate and lil sis and i thought we‘d drop by fiction on sat, as post concert default stop before home. it was average, to say the least and the only way i was going to make this a little more interesting, was to hit add fuel to the fire by adding tequila. needless to say, the night magically transformed into a world of possibilities and when i ran into an old friend, i knew that it meant the night was on the up.

you see, he and i had a mutual a friend who had sworn up and down that he would call me even though i told him that i knew he wouldn’t. lo and behold, it was a self fulfilling prophecy and he didn’t call. i left it alone. if he wanted to call, he would have, but now that i had the mutual friend all to myself, i could extract all the vital bits of information to fine tune my skills. evidently, i was supposed to have called. oops. but after the last mistaken non calling incident, i deleted his number as my act of defiance.

a little worse for wear and with renewed confidence, i asked for his number for future reference or so i said, but as soon as i walked onto the balcony, my fingers got itchy and my phone was inhand.

moi:“hi. you awake?”

him: yeah! who is this?

moi: (ha!) it’s moi

him: i don’t know anyone by that name

moi: (wtf?) er…bridget jone’s ex flatmate

him:i really don’t know anyone by that name and have never met anyone with that name before

moi: clearly

pissed off to the nth level, i gave up and hit the bar again. just who does he think he is….argh, not even worth it.

that is until the next morning, when i awoke with renewed vengeance. and what do us women do in this state? hell hath no fury et al…

so i did what any woman of the noughties would do and i hid my phone number on the cellphone and called him to tell him what for!

except….the person who answer was a xhosa speaking woman.

clearly, the universe is trying to tell me something here.

tissues and issues

2009-09-07T12:43:00.006+02:00

what is the point of a handkerchief? i mean this in all seriousness. i understand that way back in the day, in the time before fire and the wheel, one would require a handkerchief on the off chance of a fainting damsel who required fanning, but in 2009, other than maybe the queen of england, who still carries a hanky?

firstly and most obviously-eeeeeeuw. let me just sneeze into a hanky, blow my nose and then put that into my pocket...germapalooza hello! and then what do you do with it for the rest of the day? you and your snot infested pocket that contaminates everything that, probably unwashed, hand comes into contact with.

scenario two- you encounter the sobbing mess of a girl, the mascara running and the nose dripping and you offer her your hanky...and now? would you really want it back? and what is the girl supposed to do with it? launder it and then return it to you...

i would definately be interested to know what the sales projections of hankies are, whether any one actually buys them and what that demographic is. the only time i could imagine anyone purchasing a handerkerchief is, when you have the budget for either a pair or socks, a woolies three pack of undies or the pack of hankies and what father would reject that on father's day? at least you remembered that is was father's day right?

which brings me to gift giving. in lieu of not having to repeat a multitude of options for potential bday gifts this year, i decided to do a fabu/wish list. items ranging from essie nail varnish to the shoes i had on hold at aldo and of course when all else fails- the gift voucher from mac. i know i'm dfficult and very particular about purchases, so i really thought i would be helping. it's not like it's a wedding registery and i'm nowhere close to a baby shower so, this was kinda killing two birds blah, blah.

best gift i got was a shared gift of my favourite fragrance. it almost made me cry cos it's like everytime i wear it and where ever i may be, i have my friends right there with me. and then there were those who dared to order off the menu.

(sigh)

do people realise what a mission it is to return something without a receipt? invariably, you're stuck with a credit note- oh joy or when all else fails, you have to waste valuable shoe storage space until such time you can regift the item. for those who are adamant about getting something they think i will like, please think again. the list is there for a reason.

so please don't be surprised when your bday comes round and i end up giving you a pack of hankies.

two peas in a pod

2009-09-03T08:48:00.003+02:00

things that are coincidental/serendipitous about the new flatmate:

one- i came home from grocery shopping on "move in day" and he had already unpacked and as i placed my new toothbrush into the holder in the bathroom, i realized we both had exactly the same colour and brand of toothbrush. (i’m particular about the colour ‘cos it matches the mouthwash. yeah, i know. don’t ask.)

two- the next morning, as we’re getting ready for work, he’s in the kitchen and i walk out of my bedroom and we’re both wearing the same thing- black polo neck and jeans. ok, we’re not wearing the same ensemble 'cos you can’t really fit two people in the same pair of jeans unless….urgh…nevermind).

three- same thing happened this morning- shirt and jeans, same colour combo

(please hold your applause)

so, i realize that at times i’m a complete loon, but then again, who isn’t in some way or another? however, there is the occasion where you wonder to yourself…er…am i getting to the point where i should start wearing white jackets with super long sleeves tied around the back? and then your new flatmate moves in and you realize haha, there are people who are the same/worse than you!

things i heart about the newbie:

he has all his clothing on wooden hangers which all face the same way and it’s colour co ordinated!

he has the same minimalist taste in décor as i have.

he has the same amount, if not more grooming products in the bathroom than i do

and wait for this one…which kind of made me smile on the inside:

he did a dry run from our flat to his new job to make sure he had enough time to get to work in the morning and didn’t get lost!

(sigh)

anyhoo- day 4 and all is well

update

2009-08-31T11:32:00.001+02:00

if i ever had to meet murphy, i would tie him up then wrap a chain with a padlock around that bag and drop him into the ocean whilst he held onto the padlock key! it’s move out/move in weekend and i’ve been hoarding all my new purchases in my bedroom so that it’s become a bedroom come lounge kitchen convert. there are bags and boxes in my closet and more along the walls and some at work and stuff that is still to be delivered and i still have a few last minute purchases to make but alas, i am sick, obviously not by choice.

and the thing is this has happened more than once this year already. there i am at work., happy as a clam (??) taking my viral guard and vitamins and eating right and getting in a little cardio and then the season of spluttering and coughing begins. and you can see it coming with so many absent colleagues you feel like some one forgot to tell you about a new public holiday, but stubbornly i refuse to believe that i will become sick. and just when everyone has become healthy once again, out of no where, i’m struck down. and it’s never just a little cough. oh no, it’s the whole enchilada of ailments.

this time round it’s the very sexy conjunctivitis with a strept throat, so i come across as a squinty/creepy, hoarse voiced bergie. and of course this would also be the weekend that the new flat mate moves in. admittedly, i’m a little anxious. after all as sweet as he is, it might just end up being a situation where i wake up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water and there he is standing over me, you know, just watching me sleep. in this case, i am certainly going to hope for the best. i haven’t told him yet about the mad hatter. so all in all, this is going to be an interesting week to say the least.

stay tuned

a dish served cold

2009-08-25T14:08:00.004+02:00

the lil sis’s heart is breaking and in turn that means my heart is breaking too. you see, she recently started seeing some one. that type of guy that you think ok, now don’t get your hopes up or anything, but i could sure take this guy home to meet the parents... eventually. and i don’t blame her. he played every move with precision. texted her whilst they were both watching "survivor" to compare notes (obviously not whilst sitting along side each other, but in their respective homes), called her when he was running 5 minutes late before he was actually late and let her feel like she was the only one in the room. could any one blame her quiet optimism? i certainly didn’t see it coming and then he dropped the a-bomb: “ er, i thought i should be honest with you and let you know that i’m in an open relationship….wait for it…with my boss!

what the hell is anyone supposed to say to that? er, cool rock on? that’s awesome, threesome? i don’t even know where to begin with something like that? what a bloody selfish way to be. seriously, what the hell is an “open relationship”? ok, i know what it means, but really, who benefits from this?

fundamentally, it means: i want to get the good parts of a relationship from you and then also snack on any other tasty treat that might come along. what ever happened to trust and loyalty….mmm loyalty. you see, i haven’t given you the complete picture here. in this entire scenario, i forgot to mention that there was a willing bystander who said nothing and knew all along. the boy’s best friend. how does that saying go? something along the lines of- for evil to prevail all it takes is for good people to stand by and do nothing?

the best friend knew both parties or should i rather say all three parties involved. he saw all that happened and yet he said nothing. you could argue that it was none of his business and what he then, in fact did, was the right thing, he was loyal to his mate -bro’s before ho’s and all that, but us girls know that’s just a cop out. the flipside of the coin would be that even if the boy best friend told my lil sis, that she would
a-not have believed him
b-shot the messenger
c- said thank and continued anyway cos you know how us girls are suckers for punishment.

here’s the thing that pisses me off though- the bro code: ultimately an alibi, confidant and conspirator for every instance a man is deliberately doing something, omitting something or lying about something to cover his tracks. you have to wonder about some one’s character if they employ this kind of code.

lil sis got her own back though, as passive aggressive as it was and utterly childish, she texted him during "survivor". imagine the scene if you will:
uncomfortable confession and brave face of lil sis as she pretends to be ok
with his confession on saturday. uneasy parting at the end of the night and
then he hears nothing, until her text. he reaches casually for his phone and
sees that it’s a text from the lil sis. his heartbeat quickens as he waits
for her reprieve and as the text message opens he reads-
the winner of "survivor" is (will leave blank for those who follow "survivor")

revenge is sweet.

mad hatter

2009-08-19T11:25:00.004+02:00

i feel like i’m living in a parallel universe. i hate playing the victim, but i’m in a position where i honestly don’t know what to do. let me break it down for you:

last saturday, i was "graced" by the presence of the new owner of the unit above my flat. and by "graced", i mean harassed. evidently, he has a problem with noise eminating from my flat and by "noise" he means me moving from my bed to do, well, anything, walking, cooking, cleaning in other words living, all seems to bother him and since he owns the flat according to him, he’s entitled to his peace and quiet and my rights are revoked…er ja,ok, if you say so master of the universe.

i think not. so, in the spirit of being a good neighbour, i responded that i would make a concerted effort to stop breathing and just cease to exist.

evidently, that was not good enough, as he yet again, just dropped by on monday night to tell me that i was doing it again and this time "doing it again" meant walking from my bedroom to the door to answer his knock. right, you loon, next time i’ll employ my floating skills to transport me around the flat.

you would think that would be all, but alas, life is not that simple. the direct source of all this hullabaloo is my stiletto’s clicking on the hard wood floors. whoooooa hold the phone! now you’ve gone a step too far!

i got a frantic call from bridget jones this morning, as the mad hatter was camped outside our door demanding that she open the door, then continued to shout and scream and can you believe the audacity of this mentle yentle- tried to open our door. since bridget refused to open the door, he then proceeded to go back to his lair, where he threw a tantrum and banged and stomped on his floors.

upon bridget's departure from the flat, she looked up to see him standing at his windowing trying to ignite his killer death ray stare.

oi vey! i have no words left for this crazy exept… you’ll be hearing from my lawyer..and did i mention she works for the high court? oops, my bad.

domestic goddess...in the making

2009-08-17T09:51:00.003+02:00

i completely understand why woman who give up their corporate careers become controlling, obsessive, competitive soccer moms. of late, i have taken that very same mind set and applied it to my latest project of redecorating my flat for le flat mate nouveau. and it’s getting to the point of ridonculous.

all i think about everyday, all day is how to fit a coffee table, couch, dining table, chairs and ottomans into my modest sized lounge and then still fit a weber and two armchairs and side table onto my balcony and since i’m planning this all in my head, i really, really hope that my “measurements” (as in two giant steps equals one meter) are accurate and i don’t end up with my guests, not to mention myself, playing bouncy castle from couch to ottoman just to maneuver around the room.

so "stevie the tv" arrives today and that means this is becoming real and before i know it, it’ll be the end of the month and then moving day. it has been one heck of a sacrifice to walk past sale after sale with my hands cupped around my eyes so that i could see only the pathway ahead of me. needless to say, that when this month is over, "theresa visa" is going to paint the town red!

in other news- i have finally, finally got a buyer for the very expensive boots that i have yet to wear and this means…new handbag! missibaba, here i come!

things that make me go mmm

2009-08-06T10:47:00.003+02:00

what the hell is wrong with the people who answer phones at stores in cape town? do they deliberately employ people who have skipped an evolutionary stage? or is it just acceptable to answer the phone and then have no knowledge of the products they sell?

you see i shop like a man. shock and horror! when i enter a store, i go in, get what i want and get out. who has the time to browse and erm and ah? so, when i see something i like online or in a magazine, i usually call ahead of time to ensure that the item is in stock in my size and place it on hold for when i grace the store with my presence. simple enough or so one would think.

case in point:
browse store site.
check out spring trend catalogue.
call store to check stock

moi: good morning. i’m on your site and would like to check if you have certain items in stock from your spring trend catalogue

store person: er…’ello? (please take note- no, good morning and thank you for calling store x)

moi: hi

store person: the catalogue?

moi: yes. are you able to help?

store person: must i check on the floor?

moi: well, if that would help. now about the items i’m looking for…

store person: ok now where?

moi: on page 8- the dress

store person: there is no dress on page 8

moi: it’s on your site though. the trend catalogue

store person: oh, not the store catalogue

moi: (grrrrrr) no. the spring. trend. catalogue. on. your. site.

store person: oh, we don’t have internet.

urgh,nevermind.

let's get physical

2009-08-06T08:25:00.009+02:00

new flat mate, new furniture and new leaf to turn over (yet again). i decided that i had better get my act together. spring clean the system so to speak and thus i found myself at gym of all places at 6.30 on a thursday. (that’s 06.30 in the morning people.) the only time i’m awake at that time of the day, is if i haven’t been to sleep from the night before, but alas, i digress.

so there i was, alarm set 05.45 in anticipation of the several million times i will hit snooze. gym gear laid out ready and waiting and of course, the ginormous bag i have prepared- filled with every conceivable item i might need to prepare for work. if anyone had been watching me leave my flat, they would have thought i had been chucked out.

crack of dawn, me, virgin active: let me just say, that if it wasn’t for the big ass red "v", i would never have found the place, since it’s been about ten years since i last set foot in a gym and now i remember why.

first fifteen minutes-treadmill. ok this is easy enough. increase speed. heart rate increases, light perspiration. mmm, okey dokey…increase speed some more…this is easy as pie...mmm...pie. should have had breakfast. why does everyone complain? thing is i never run. never. i walk quickly, even during sale season, so after a while i was bored already. next? er..i don’t know. yes, i’m intimidated. everyone seems to know what they’re doing and well, if i’m left to my own devices i’d more than likely hang myself with that thing you pull down behind your back.

so i did the step machine. why anyone would do half an hour of step work only to go nowhere is beyond me. there was nothing to watch except for some people doing stretches below. stretches. haha. in other words, they’re too lazy to actually use a machine so now taking a "time out" pretending to be working some or other muscle group and let me not even mention the lurkers. those annoying people who slowly creep up on you and wait for you to be done with the machine. well, that’s what i thought they were doing, until i realize that creepy old man was actually trying to chat me up. thank the lord for ipods- "i can’t heaaaaar you" and off i went to the changing room.

holy crap! if i were lesbian, it’s like a smörgåsbord of booty. and there is no modesty here ladies. big ass mamma’s with all their bits just flapping about whilst moisturising themselves. at that time in the morning, it’s just a little early for me to see 200kg of cellulite and it certainly did the trick and put me off food for life. no gym needed!

an error in judgement

2009-07-30T07:42:00.003+02:00

cape town boys, i apologise… and it takes a lot for me to admit that i was wrong. quite a few posts ago, i said something along the lines of there were no good men left in cape town. and if the potential flat mates that have been traipsing through my flat are anything to go by, then i think i need to eat my words.

now before you say it, i will. you can’t date your flat mate. i know. i knnnnnnnow!. for some reason, the only replies i got to my ad are from guys. go figure? maybe the girls hate changing toilet rolls, but hey i’m not complaining.

i got a heart wrenching response from one guy who had just ended a three year relationship with his girlfriend and needed to get the hell out of dodge. some how, i envisioned night after night sitting with him in my lounge, sobbing, whilst watching the notebook, but that’s kind of a buzz kill on a friday night no?

then there was the serene and sultry photographer. ever so polite, but not even i could resist having a photographer on tap-"cassssseeeeey, put down your beer and take a pic of us girls. wait, one more. nah, i look fat in that one one more please."
i think he might have murdered me eventually.

and the latest potential husband, oops, i mean house mate, is the london IT guy. his reply made my heart melt just a little.

hi
your flat share sounds ideal. i’m moving to cape town for a job in IT and no, i’m not the geeky kind. i don’t own a drum kit and i think my mom taught me how to change the toilet roll, but i’m still trying to master the shoe lace thing….

you dig? me likey. now i know finding a flat mate is like russian roulette. you never really know what you’re going to get. it might all appear "oh so innocent" on the onset, but they could turn out to be the next ted bundy. when the IT guy arrived at my door, i have to admit, he took my breathe away just a little. tall, blue eyes with those dorky but trendy glasses and the accent- not souf lon ‘in- ya feel me? dja get me? but more prince harry like. soft spoken and polite, but you know as soon as he takes off his glasses clark kent disappears and superman’s in da house.

let’s just say that if he declines the room, i’ll be his louis lane- i got the writing part down already.

sunny side up

2009-07-29T07:40:00.003+02:00

with all this gorgeous weather we’ve been having of late, the lil sis and i decided that it would be a sin not to take advantage of it and decided that we should venture out to have breakfast al fresco. a simple enough task one would think, however, after many attempts at a variety of local breakfast establishments, we are yet to find one that fits just right. it has reached the point where we rarely go to the same restaurant more than one as we cross each one off the list for lack of breakfast options.

you see, neither of us eat eggs and it being breakfast that we’re after, our options usually amount to muesli and yoghurt or pancakes and really there is only so many pancakes one can eat before you reach your gag reflex.

just to clarify, we’re not against eggs per se. it’s just that why would anyone want to eat a food substance that has the consistency of snot? have them scrambled or hard fried? why not boiled or whipped into an omelette? yeah, so it’s not just the texture, but the smell alone that can make us vomit a little in our mouths.

already expecting our appetites to be disappointed, we forewarned our waitress that we would be ordering off the menu: 2 slices of toast, crispy bacon and cheese- all separate, for us to assemble on our own volition.

and then it arrived: toast, bacon, cheese and what’s this? a fried tomato! fried? did i ask for a tomato? i think not. i politely placed mine on the side plate provided. the lil sis however, has more disdain for tomatoes than she does for eggs.

lil sis: i mean really, who decided that a tomato would be the obligatory garnish?

moi: (shrugs shoulders) gordon ramsey?

lil sis: it’s not even a vegetable. i might as well have asked for two slices of toast, bacon, cheese and an apple on my plate. if we’re going to just add random fruit as garnish then i want an apple god dammit!

the search continues…

end of an era

2009-07-24T10:13:00.004+02:00

so i have to find a new flat mate. yes, that means bridget jones is moving on out *sniff, sniff* . it’s like the break up- splitting of items bought together etc. i have placed a motion to have full custody of dom and dave and the motion has been granted. at least we won’t have to disrupt their lives. other than that, i feel that a fresh start is in order, so it means new furniture and décor…another month without new shoes. my heart is breaking everyday. although, it does mean more love to go around to the older shoes in my collection.

in the spirit of equal opportunities et al, i attempted to place an ad on gumtree, but ended up rewording it a kajillion times. i mean, here was an opportunity to really display my creative personality aaaaaand be as specific as possible to find the most suited flat mate. after a while, it was beginning to sound more like a personal ad.

draft one:

moi:
• i'm female
• employed
• like to socialise and have friends come over on occasion,
the flat is not party central.that's why i live close to long street
• clean and tidy
• i don’t do drugs
• smoke and like a glass of wine with meals
• pretty laid back and easy going with a wicked sense of humour

you:
• male/female 24-29 (non –ugly)
• not a whack job
• have a regular source of income
• like to socialise, drink and smoke
• not religious
• you don’t do drugs
• understand how to change a toilet roll when the previous one is done
• considerate of flat mate and won't play the drums at 8am on a sat
• relatively tidy
• do not own a pet
• looking for a long term (realtionship?) lease (12 months-deposit required)

surprisingly, the ad could not be posted. evidently, it was violating posting policies…what policies?

so i removed the “non – ugly” part. i thought that was being pc, but i can see how that might be offensive.

repost

no go
mmm? after a million re reads. i finally figured it out. apparently the word “drugs” was the violation!

the amendment now reads:
do not abuse chemical substances as an extra curricular activity
eish wena!

creative liberties

2009-07-22T15:34:00.003+02:00

i should have seen it coming. hello? how many magazines do i read and yet i was naive enough to believe that when i was interviewed, that they would use my actual answers. i’m a little insulted that i was dumbed down and the pic that they selected makes me look angry.

at least my shoes look really good.

so here are my actual answers vs the answers printed

describe your style:

moi: my fundamental rule when putting together an ensemble is that what you wear should enhance and reflect who you are.

them:
my style is a reflection of my mood. some days i am hip-hop and other days i am a glamour girl. but no friday is complete without very high heels

so i can live with that one

next:

my style icon:

moi: ashley olsen and agyness deyn

them:

(oh lord wait for this one. i almost threw up a little in my mouth)

rihanna. (rihanna! seriously? me?)
because she keeps everything clean and crisp (my words were: i prefer classic, clean cut lines) but always has a slight edge. i also like agyness deyn for her directional fashion-and because she always dates musicians(…musicians? again- me? how dirty are most musicians. eeeeeeuw.)

my style secret is:

moi: since a trust fund eludes me, i have to be careful as to how i spend my money. my secret is to choose timeless pieces and accessorize to keep on trend. monsieur price is there for a reason and teamed with a garment from slick, no one will be the wiser.

them: to splurge on items that will see you through several seasons and add cheaper accessories and fashion items. or steal them from your boyfriend when the cash runs out. (if i’m supposedly dating a musician, i presume the cash was never there in the fist place and if anything he’ll be coining it from my account…sigh)

music influence:

moi: i have to admit that i don’t look to musicians for style inspiration. afterall ,they are performers and thus need to project a certain persona.

them: if i wake up to a guitar song (i would kill myself) on the radio the biker jacket comes out, but on another day i may be in baggy jeans and a hoodie if i’d been inspired by eminem (inspired by eminem- now there's paradox)

for your information

2009-07-14T11:32:00.003+02:00

we all know how nerve wracking it is when you have your first sleep over with the latest beau du jour. you’ve seen each other for a while: coffee, dinner and maybe even a little putt putt or a movie, but all these events are rather polite and you’re on your best behaviour. so, when it comes to spooning in bed, how do you have any control over your body when you’re asleep? sleep you say? just close your eyes? well, that might be the case for him, for us girls- we know better.

after a little “one on one” it’s time to catch a couple of zzzz’s . he’s already nuzzling your neck and then... the spooning begins. comfortable. warm. but wait! where’s his hand meandering to? your stomach? oh no, no, no. aaaaaand inhale and suck it in. and that’s how you stay for 99% of the night. if we had it our way, we would rather be lying on our backs with your head on our shoulder. stomach flat? check. hair placed like a pantene commercial? check. and arm placed sexily above our heads- check. this is how we want to be awakened. perfected pose-serene yet fhm photographer ready.

instead, we have mr i-need-to-be-as-close-to-you-as-possible-without-smothering-you hence the spooning. 5 minutes later and he’s challenging tractor sounds with his snoring and you? still awake, 'cos god forbid you relax and reveal that your so called abs are anything but rock hard. inevitably, we end up sleep deprived however, i have come up with the quick fix solution that keeps everyone happy. now listen carefully ladies-
he moves in for the spooning
his hand sliding across your curves to rest on your stomach
(at this point you’re already sucking in, so it’s all good)
you place your hand on his (and this part is important ladies)
guide his hand up your torso to rest on your boob (boob schmoob-we see them everyday)
you make the "mmmmmm" sound
he’s happy that he gets to cop a feel
and you can sleep easy

problem- sorted.

scary hairy

2009-07-06T14:21:00.005+02:00

there’s a new trend emerging. some of you might not have noticed, but some of you sure have felt it. i call it bushblocking. some women are just too lazy, some figure it’s winter so why bother and other (and this is the trend i’ve noticed) are using it as a deliberate and modern day chastity belt.

imagine the scene if you will: you’re out with your gals, had a few too many, everyone is being herded from the balcony indoors and you know it’s crunch time on the dfloor. your chance to hook up with that "sort-of-cute" guy you’ve been eyeing, has now turned into your only hope (don’t judge me. like you haven’t been there before!) who knows how and sans any effort, he notices you and now you’re sucking face. big time. the lights come on, signaling home time and you’re thinking mmmm, why not? that is, until you remember your legs and other areas are au naturelle. game over. thank you for playing.please try again later.

as a woman, i know that we are short on willpower. all we have to see is those four magic letters- sale- and there goes our budget. ironically, sale in french means "dirty" and if you’re like me, then you too take pride in our standards of personal grooming and would rather die than have a hand caress an unwaxed leg.

i have a friend (who shall not be named), who was also sporting the ahem..."unkept look" when she found herself at her ex’s home with a major dilemma: go home or go naked? she ended up in his bathroom using his razor to “tidy things up”

on the flipside- what is it with men and back hair? euuuuuuuw on so many levels. it' usually like a silky patch between the shoulder blades or peeping out below the t-shirt line. do they not notice it? do they think it's masculine and thus a turn on? or as i suspect, they're just too chicken to seek help in reaching the spot and actually waxing that. ladies, if this is your man, then you have no need to worry, he's bushblocking all on his own.

it could happen to you

2009-07-02T13:50:00.003+02:00

uncle cool is like my second dad, except that he’s actually my boss, but more like a very cool boss. when i’m sick and call in to excuse myself, he doesn’t make me feel guilty for not being at work. when i’m stuck in my flat with a plumber who’s quoted 2hours work, but actually takes ten years, uncle cool doesn’t give me grief. he has an endless supply of chocolate on standby and he's the one who tells me to go to the sale at the waterfront to you, know just browse. honestly, if it weren’t for him, i think i would have lost it ages ago at this company.

as previously stated, i can’t sleep at night due to the shite happening at work. you know how south africa is a season behind in fashion, well the same could be said for the implications of the recession and now it’s hitting us full force. so much so that when uncle cool went to donate blood (he’s good that way), they told him that his stress levels and dietary habits has lead to an increase in haemoglobin production. through the magic of google- these symptoms could lead to uncle cool having a stroke amongst other things. *alarm bells ringing*. so for selfish reasons, i’m taking uncle cool to pilates twice a week. not that this has been implemented as yet, but at least it’s a start. i mean, like, who else is going to embarrass estate agents by telling them i’m his girlfriend…er..sorry "other daughter", when we go to flat viewings?

if the worse comes to worse and he actually has a stroke at work,(it will probably be when he’s briefing me for the day ahead), how would i actually react if that should happen? one would hope that you could be calm in a situation like that, but it’s me we’re dealing with here. it would probably go down something like this:

moi: uncle cool? hey? ha ha, ok you’re not funny. what did i say about humour before morning coffee? what are you looking for on the floor?

gets up from chair and perches over desk

moi: holy f&$! some one call 911! f&$! fuuuuuuuuuck! ok, not 911, we’re not in america! help! help? i am not doing mouth to mouth oh f&*!ity f&*!

touch wood

fml

2009-07-01T09:40:00.007+02:00

it’s been a while since i last checked in here and it’s not for lack of activity on my side. it's due to interrupted sleep and it's not even the good kind. my new "favourite" thing to do is to go to sleep for a few hours and then wake up and run through all my concerns relating to work for about 3 hours. bare in mind this usually happens at about 2 in the morning. too lazy to go switch on the light and read, but not tired enough to go back to sleep. so the last few days i've been a bit zombified and can barely concentrate on one thought long enough to write it down. thank goodnes for vitathion!

anyhooooooo, gbf and the lil sis came over to mine last night to let me know how their internships were going. (both of them are final year fashion students.) it almost made me cry when i heard what each of them did during their day:

08.00 lil sis- wake up
08.00 gbf- parks car at factory in elsies river

09.00 lil sis- get coffee
09.00 gbf- have sat at make shift desk between two clothing rails for an hour. ass is becoming numb.

09.30 lil sis- meet up with stylist and go to v&a luxury section to select clothing.
09.30 gbf- yay! get to smoke. oh, wait. i don't smoke anymore. go make breakfast. oats. i brought it from home

12.00 lil sis- arms are overloaded with designer bags. this is the life. now for test shoot with model and photogrpaher
12.00 gbf- have blocked out all skinder from seamstresses. (don't understand afrikaans). check fb. lunchtime. a sandwhich (which i brought from home).

14.00 lil sis- lunch at beluga's
14.00 gbf- almost fell asleep at desk. woke up because of my own snoring. 3 hours to go.

15.00 lil sis- pop in to office to check updates
15.00 gbf- have written in internship diary. have drawn factory floorplan. please take note of where i am seated.

16.30 lil sis- i love, love, love my internship!
17.00 gbf- it's only day 3 of intership. f&$! my life

bursting the bubble

2009-06-23T13:06:00.004+02:00

i get obsessive about things. there, i said it. happy? once i have something in my mind that i want, there is no stopping me. i once spent three days dreaming- literally- about christian dior lipgloss which i could buy at selfridges and receive free mascara. needless to say, by day three, i was gatvol and went to get it first thing in the morning. on the upside, at least i’m not impulsive, but then again you’ve never seen me at a sale.

so, the for the last few days, i have called my bank to see what i could be approved for in terms of a home loan. pitiful i tell you. the only thing i could buy with that kind of bond would be a cardboard box with a street address of some doorway of a chinese store in sea point. mmmmm not really ideal for my shoe collection.

right- just one little set back. nothing to stress about. i’ll use my powers of persuasion . after all, banks don’t factor in that i really can live on fresh air and 1/3 of my salary for repayments is just silly. take 2/3 and i’ll make the rest work for me…er…well, that’s the plan anyway. still no? well, you really wouldn’t be saying that if we were talking face to face, nudge- nudge, wink-wink. ooooooh, you’re married? well con-grat-u-laaaaaaations. uh huh.

plan b- so i can’t afford a place on my own. and i thought i was growing up, but nooooooo seems i still need the parental unit.

moi:hiiiiiii dad (colgate smile)

dad: whatever it is, the answer is no.

moi:but daaaad. you see, think of it as an investment opportunity.

dad:that’s what i thought you were and look at my returns (back to the house every weekend) on that.

moi:mmmmmmph

last resort-buying the place with a friend and i just happen to have some one who is actually interested…pending a viewing and a contractual agreement drawn up by a lawyer. somehow i think friend should have been “friend” anyhoo, who am i to say no?

flat viewing: to summise- there were no closets. nudda. and to add a insult to injury, the current tenant had a clothes rail! a rail i tell you? is the owner mad? no wonder it’s for sale: his wife/gf/lover must have made him sell it. and to just rub it in even more- there is no room to build a closet either. (this would be the part where mr big would offer to build a closet for me, but since i’m single…i hightailed it out of there.) dream flat? nah- just deflated.

the games people play

2009-06-22T16:48:00.004+02:00

this weekend was kinda of an odd one as the lil sis and i decided to venture out on our own. we ended up at dependable ol’ waiting room- home of the underground "too cool for skool crowd." when we arrived, promptly at eleven, post 2 bottles of vino (end of the month pre match drinking at flat), we were already in the party vibe. (i blame the dancing to pcd- "buttons" in the lounge for that!)too bad the rest of the crowd wasn’t. so, we decided to perch ourselves on- hold the phone- an actual available couch. (can you hear the choir of angels?)

i have to admit that people watching is one of my ultimate favourite pastimes and this was the prime spot to do that. i wish i was undercover enough to have recorded notes on my phone whilst pretending to actually be taking a call but as i sat there, i could already here the intro to my blog formulating in my head.

naturally, there were the rugby jocks who looked like bulls in a china shop and of course the little blonde princesses parading around, but it was a particular elvis costello look alike who was bopping away on his own, that drew our attention. and this is where our mean girl instincts kicked in. to entertain ourselves, we decided to play a little game- how much crap can you talk to chat up a guy who will probably shoot you down in mmmm maybe 2 minutes? lil sis was up first and she decided that elvis was her target. off she went and i was left o solo mio to start the stopwatch…2minutes came and went. 5 minutes said it’s hello’s too. ok, i look like a chick giving dagger looks staring at her from the corner of my eye whilst trying to pretend i was actually texting. ten minutes passed as i sipped the last dregs of my jack and lime. 2 cigarettes later and i was looking like a wall flower. ok, ok, she won by default as i didn’t even get a chance to compete.

other things i noticed that made me laugh on the inside: you know when people are well on their way drinking wise, when they do that whole i’m going to the dance floor but let me do the shuffle shimmy hip shake thing on my way their. what they don’t realize is they look a little mmmmm epileptic? then their was the drunk guy who was spinning some girl on the dance floor a la strictly come dancing, but 5 minutes later was kissing a totally different girl. there was also a random who- and I couldn’t tell if this one was fake or not- had a spiky mohawk but wait for it…in neon colours and to complete the picture, we of course had monsieur kanye west wearing his shades in the dark- at night- and of course they were the ones that look like horizontal jail bars…i have no words.

if there's a will, there's a way

2009-06-19T13:34:00.004+02:00

being single officially sucks ass. as you all know it’s been two years-ish since i’ve been back in the mother city and one of the reasons i came back was because of the property market. i was in a position to buy a flat. well, so i thought at the time, but after i had quit celebrating the fact that i was home, i realized that i had no bank account nor much money left not to mention that i hadn’t even thought about applying for any kind of job.

i was back to square one. and then, browsing gumtree, as one does, i came across my dream flat. renovated studio flat, all in white with brushed steel finishes in the kitchen, a large picture window with a breathtaking view of the city. and a walk in shower! aaaaaaaaah. as if the renovator had been sucked into my head and extracted my hopes and dreams for the future. alas, i was in no position to buy it. and so, after bookmarking the page and checking it out everyday for 2 months, i put that childish dream to rest.

i swear the universe is somehow colluding to get me to get off my ass and do something worthwile with my life because it is certainly leading me down the road of big dreams and fast cars and the fact that i can’t afford it, is pissing me off to the nth extreme. i consider myself to live rather comfortably. so, i live on 2 min noodles, but that is really out of choice as clearly shoes carry more weight in my budget, but now…i’m even considering getting a second job that's how much i want this flat.

so, i call the lil sis hoping for just a little bit of sympathy. i mean i'm on the verge of tears here and all she could muster was a weak “shampies”
gee,thanks.

uncle cool offered to assist with my cause,naturally,but that would be in lieu of "favours" returned. as much as i want to buy this flat, i don’t want to own it that way. which brings me to why being single sucks: if i were in a relationship, this would not be a problem. assuming that we would be living together, that would mean all costs are split in half- including the bond. and the worst part about all of this is that it’s not like it’s a phenomenal amount of money kind of out of reach. it’s only a repayment of about R1500 too much for me. maybe i should find a boyfriend who works at the bank……

isn't she lovely?

2009-06-18T10:45:00.003+02:00

babies and i just don’t gel very well at all. in fact, i would rather have my toenails removed with a clamp than have to hold a baby and entertain them. i mean what the hell are you supposed to do with a baby in your arms? i don’t do coochie coo noises and i don’t do “isn’t he just a cutiepie?” thing either, so why do all the new moms at work think that bringing their babies in to work is ok?

i share an office with the hr lady and everyday the yummy mummy brings her kid in to work. fine, i get it. she doesn’t have a nanny or whatever, but oh my hat if the hr lady sings “clap hannies” one more time, i think i will strangle her. it’s become her new daily fix. she won’t let the yummy mummy walk past our office without kidnapping the diaperful of joy for at least half an hour and then it begins…

the singing and talking in an octive only dogs can hear. i don’t hide the fact that i can’t stand it. i usually smile for about 30 secs and then i need to get up and out of there before i commit murder. yummy mummy stands there with this look of sheer disgust that i don’t join in and fawn over her offspring, but just like crocs i can’t fake liking it.

don’t get me wrong- i’m thrilled for new moms and their healthy newborns, but it’s the equivalent of holding a sack of potatoes except that this sack poops and drools and that’s about it. how excited can one be about that?

clearly i lack the maternal instinct. i get more hyped about a sale than i do about children, but my natural instinct to some one who tells me they’re pregnant is to send my condolences. everyone keeps telling me that i will change my mind when it’s my own…i can’t even conceive (see what I did there? conceive...) of having a dog let alone a child. and at the rate i’m going, the only way i’m having a kid is if it’s jesus.

it's a fine line...

2009-06-15T13:36:00.003+02:00

the singles club had their first official field experience this weekend at the assembly. it was quite apt that it was the wedding dj’s playing as shop girl was regailing us with her sobfest whilst congratulating yet another of her friends on their engagement.

shopgirl: you’re getting married?! that’s fantastic! (fucking fantastic *sob, sob* fuck my life)

friend: wow, i had no idea you would be this happy for me

shopgirl: yes, so, very happy for you (sniff, sniff) i just can’t believe it. just three months dating and he proposes at dinner with not one but three gifts and the third is a tiffany ring! you’re sooooo lucky (you’re marrying my man you bitch!)

and thus, we have our first lifetime member of singles club.

the current members are dropping like flies into the land of coupledom, however we don’t even need to do a membership drive as requests are flying in. for an unofficial club, we’re sure making a name for ourselves. technically it’s a club of built in wingmen and therapy rolled into one and meetings are held at restaurants with booze being the main course. definitely my kind of club.

here are the minutes from the last meeting:

topic: intervention criteria
phase one: sending multiple texts to him in hope that he will respond
phase two: calling from an unknown number to check if his phone is on
phase three: facebook stalking to ascertain his whereabouts and “accidentally” be there too
footnote: checking his wall to see who he is interacting with is dangerous territory too. photoshopping his pics to add yourself is beyond help
phase four: driving past his house to check if he is in- intervention needed!

return of the mac

2009-06-11T08:05:00.003+02:00

friday night and i was ready for the sweet release that is the weekend. stopped over at the liquor store for a lovely bottle of pinotage and by 6 o' clock i was already half way through. but since it gets so dark so early, it felt like ten o’ clock to me, so I invited thank you over. him -armed with his own poison of choice and me devouring the remainders of mine. before i knew it, we had both run out of booze and i went to the kitchen to steal the flatmate’s stash. another bottle later and it was 2 am and i kicked thank you out and went to bed for that deep, dream-free, intense sleep…i woke up yesterday.

what i thought was just a ginormous hang over was in fact the horrid flu and i tell you this little bug hits you for a six. even though i went to work yesterday i swear i was tripping on cough mixture and other pharmaceuticals so it doesn’t even really count as a day at work. today…yeah pretty much the same, but at least i feel like i’m floating and have the strange sense that i can milk the sickness excuse for a while yet. yes, life is good.

so what have i missed in the interim? i hear that happy coupledom is not all that it’s cracked up to be. evidently, the smug girlfriends are all up in arms threatening to break up with their men on the drop of a hat. of course, this instills the fear of god in the men since who wants to be single in winter? generally, it just seems like it’s rocky roads for most couples right now and i have a feeling it has nothing to with the weather or the flu. now who’s smug…hehehe

going nowhere slowly

2009-06-04T14:20:00.005+02:00

how to procrastinate until you’re blue in the face: i think i’m the poster child for weighing up my options to the point where i no longer know what the question is anymore. usually, this results in absolutely no action taking place, however, today i had no option but to face mr awkward.

as previously mentioned, even though mr awkward is my boss, i try to avoid him as much as possible. not because of fear, but more out of the fact that any interaction usually results in me set on a path to nowhere, with no signage as to where i’m supposed to be heading. dutifully, i will continue this journey until about halfway, when i realize that i am in fact completely on the wrong path and should have taken a helicopter instead of walking.

i had been summoned to mr awkward’s office yesterday, but as per usual, had put it off as long as humanly possible considering his office is right next to mine. i was sure i was going to be fired. i know i have absolutely no heart for my current job and i sincerely doubted that evasion tactics was a skill to add to my cv so i went to face the music.

just after lunch, having eaten too much and on the verge of hurling, the dreaded meeting took place in his office…with hr present. this did not look good at all.

mr awkward: so how do you feel about your current position?

moi: er..how do i feel…(kinda comfy in this new chair thanks, but my stomach is too full? i wish the earth would open up and devour me whole right about now? i want to be hiding under my duvet?) i feel that i’m quite competent, but i don’t see myself doing this for the next five years if that’s what you mean?

mr awkward: i see. you mentioned something at your interview that you were interested in doing. what was that again?

moi: (become a rich and spoilt socialite?) well, there have been a few developments in the last few months in that i now write a blog and thought perhaps i could write for a living, but it’s just something i was contemplating and never really implemented. i should send you the link. i'm quite funny...(yeah right! send you the link so you can see what i get up to after hours...i think not).

mr awkward: oh, my son’s girlfriend does that and makes a lot of money out that.

moi: (damn it- that should be me)

mr awkward: so writing huh…funny that i lack communication skills and you have communications skills. now all you need to do is get into my head and we’re tailor made

moi: do you have a usb port?

drum roll please
introooooooooducing the latest addition to my cv- company intranet md blogger/mole
this could be interesting.

return to sender

2009-06-02T09:11:00.007+02:00

i understand that one’s home is one’s sanctuary, however, should a guest in one’s home not have the liberty to treat it as their own? a loaded question, i know. let’s all hope that everyone is impeccably anal about their homes as i am, if that’s the case.

thank you text me the other day, to ask me a question which could be construed as somewhat icky and inappropriate. you can just imagine how the wheels were turning in my head. thinking it was something to do with woman’s menstrual cycles, i replied that he should proceed delicately from here on out, but to go ahead. his response: what does it mean when a “sleepover friend” leaves behind a toothbrush and deodorant…

option a- she’s forgetful

option b- she’s hygienic

option c- she’s pre empting the next “sleepover” and is slowly making herself comfortable in your home hoping that this might become a more permanent arrangement.

with as much tact as i could muster, i politely informed him that it was more that likely option c. after all,a toothbrush is not something with which most women travel.

i can totally understand why she did it though. he’s been stringing her along, neither confirming nor denying that they do in fact have some sort of “relationship” and i presume that this is her way of making him tackle the issue head on. his only other alternative is to just discard of her items and pretend it never happened. but i have a feeling his "friend" is well prepared for that scenario.

the lil sis had a similar situation, but hers was genuine forgetfulness- where her “sleepover friend” returned a hair pin. a hair pin i tell you! he might as well have written on a billboard- i do not want to be in a relationship! surely a hairpin is forgivable and easily an item which could be discarded with no remorse?

i think that the subtext of items left behind carries way too much weight and room for misinterpretation. i’ll just hibernate at mine for the winter. at least all the stuff there is mine.

suit up!

2009-05-29T09:00:00.000+02:00

it is a very sad day indeed, as bridget jones’s boyfriend has returned from his trip abroad which means we need to return his car. in case i hadn’t mentioned before, i don’t drive. i take cabs everywhere and before you say that must be expensive, well in actuality, it really isn’t. think about it- i don’t have to make car payments nor insurance payments nor pay for petrol nor maintenance. i don’t have to spend 20 mins finding a parking space as i get dropped off at the entrance to wherever i’m going and i certainly don’t have to tip every random person with a day glo bib who, after years of training, insists that you give him your hard earned cash for waving his arm in a circular motion and whistling through his teeth. plus- i think i’m too evolved to drive. i should be chauffeured.

i digress-bridget has been picking me up from work this week and as we reached the traffic light at the end of kloof street, we both stopped in mid conversation to admire a particularly well dressed male specimen. (she can look! she’s in a relationship, not dead). here’s the thing : although you might think the sudden lapse in dialogue was due to our jaws being locked in mid gape, it was more the fact that he was so well dressed that we couldn’t decide if he was gay, straight or bi.

here i am moaning about the lack of style of the testosteroned population and now, for the first time in a very long time, that i actually find the lesser spotted well dressed male, his sexuality is what i question?!

to me, he had to have been european, specifically french, with his scarf wrapped around his neck whilst wearing a blazer and sporting the rough and rugged unshaven look. but, then he had such a pretty face too…a little femme…bingo- he’s a schmodel from abroad. but what does that say about me? have i totally stereotyped well dressed men into the category of metrosexual and therefore borderline gay? has society indoctrinated me to the extent that an alpha male has to be wearing low slung jeans and trainers with an indie rock t-shirt to register on my hormonal radar? i have to admit though, in my little gang, the likes of skywalker, the investment banker, the tall texan and even on occasion the rest of them will suit up and i tell you, there is nothing sexier than a man in a well tailored suit.

taste for life

2009-05-28T11:26:00.003+02:00

this is the story of a girl, who cried a river and drowned the whole world but i absolutely love her when she smiles….ok, maybe not 'cos that would make me lesbian and the only person left on the planet…sorry got that song stuck in my head.

last night, was the first official singles club meeting which coincided with the football final. evidently, sports bars don’t take reservations, so with a party of twenty, we ended up at, wait for it, at the spur! and to add to the festivities, our food was served with sparklers and since we were there, we said it was the president’s birthday and was therefore serenaded by the spur’s service ambassador team. fun times i tell you. although, i was a little sad as we didn’t get the indian hats.

after all the formalities of watching my beloved team crash and burn, we were well on our way and changed venues by going to old faithful- neighbourhood. by now, it was a last men standing situation- lil sis, gbf et moi. just innocently minding our own business, standing at the bar when i was approached by a rather short, rotund man who was also drowning his sorrows in the devil's liquid.

little man: excuse me miss?

moi: (raises eyebrow)

little man: can i…er…do you…er…

moi: (look of “yeeeeeees?”)

little man: eeeeer…right….erm…ok. i understand.

and he walks away.

i have new telepathic powers! i don’t even need to employ the powers of speech anymore. i felt so bad. i honestly thought all he wanted was a light and was waiting for him to get that out. oh well…and then he turned around and ordered a double klippies and coke. oh dear jesus, that explains it. i’m sorry, but all i heard was blah, blah, blah, boerewors, boerwors. no wonder i didn’t say anything. i don’t speak bellville.

a fishy affair

2009-05-26T09:02:00.002+02:00

are goldfish really lazy or do they just forget to move? bridget jones and i, after much debate, are now the proud mamma’s of a pair of goldfish. since before we even moved in together, bridget has been campaigning for a budgie. "a budgie?", you say. yeah, can you just imagine me being woken up by a budgie on a sundy morning? it would not have been pleasant, to say the least. it got so bad, that she used to send me links to free budgies off gumtree. bless her dear soul, but budgie is on the list of top three pets i would never own, only superceded by cats.

after a while, i didn’t hear about budgies anymore, but then, out of nowhere, bridget would bring up rabbits in conversation. at first, i thought she was going on about sex toys, but after i told her about how i was pulled over by customs at an airport whilst i was carrying three rampant rabbits in my suitcase (for my girlfriends people, not all for me) she soon clarified that she was thinking about getting a rabbit to which I replied, "for a magic show since that would be the only way it would appear in this flat."

do you realise how few pet stores there are in the city bowl? a few weekends ago we went drivng around town, finally having decided that we would get goldfish. i couldn’t find a single one and so we decided to drive down sea point main rd, since it seemed the type of place where one would be. there were seafood restaurants and pet grooming places and one lowly pet store, but no fish, so i decided to call the lil sis for help.

moi: hey. you awake?

lil sis: mmm, yeah. what you doing?

moi: in sea point. looking for goldfish.

lil sis: what? the band? i think they’re playing at la med…

a quick trip to perky pets, at gardens center, and mission accomplished. however, for pets…well they don’t do very much do they?

anyhoo, may i please introduce the latest addition to our household- dave and dom, our goldfish-not the band.

singles club

2009-05-21T10:22:00.004+02:00

i woke up this morning thinking i was being flashmobbed by the papparazzi whilst asleep. then i realized how ridiculous that seemed and that i was clearly a little more drunk last night than i thought and maybe it was a residual camera flash feeling from the night before. then i heard the rumbling... am i that hungry this early in the morning? and what is with the flashes? please, oh please lord, don’t let it be ufo’s. nope. it was the incredible thunderstorm this morning. now that’s what i call nature’s alarm clock. (mental note- buy curtains already!)

in celebration of the weekend closing in on us, and the lil sis finally realizing that vegetarianism is bananas, the gang and i went out to dinner. as if by some pre ordained seating plan, it ended up being the couples on either end of the table and the singletons dominating. and this is where the singles club originated.
please find below our manifesto:

the first rule of singles club is: you don’t talk about singles club
the second rule of singles club is :you don’t talk about singles club

the president of singles club is: the person who hasn’t had sex for the longest

you need to be a card carrying member of singles club. there are three tiers:
black, platinum and life time member

the singles club house will always have a bartender of your choice (from a pre selected casting) on duty.

you are allowed to have sleep over buddies at the singles club house, but once you are in a relationship your membership will be revoked.

it’s a work in progress.

first singles club meeting- uefa cup champions league final (drunk men are easy targets)…we’re taking our club on the road…stay tuned

i heard it through the grapevine

2009-05-20T15:41:00.003+02:00

ok, so i’m mad. not that kind of barking mad kind of mad, but the pissed off, i wish everyone would mind their own business- kind of mad. here’s the thing: the grapevine, as per usual, got one eensy, teeny, weeny, iota of truth and spun it into an elaborate construction of assumptions and miscommunications with a sprinkling of wink-wink, nudge-nudge.

yes, i have often sat there with my jaw wide open like an airport hangar, when hearing a juicy bit of information dissemination, but now that it’s about me, it’s got personal and it’s messing up my love life.

it’s an age old fact of life, that men and women can’t just be friends…unless of course the other person is a hobbit with troll like characteristics, then yes, you can just be friends. when harry met sally, beauty and the beast…you get my drift, eventually, somehow, you will get intimate. wrong!

just because a guy and a girl are mates and text each other and fb and meet on occasion, it does not a hook up make. especially, when both have agreed that there are no romantic feelings involved at all. so, why dear lord why, does the grapevine fill in the gaps and assume that of course if they’re mates, they will or have hooked up? how in the world did 1+1 = 2 in a bed? and while we’re on the subject- mind your own business. this is not up for discussion and i would appreciate it if you did not draw your own conclusions especially, since we’re not together and therefore by saying we are, it ruins my chances of hooking up with anyone else.

phew. that felt good. ok, all of out my system now. glad we understand each other.

bottom of the ninth

2009-05-18T12:04:00.003+02:00

uuuurgh. i hate the current state of play. because it’s winter and sticking out a toe into the cold blustery nights has become too much for cape tonians, no one ventures out anymore. my collective of mates/dates and reprobates has dwindled down to me and the lil sis. so, after last weekend’s non event of me and the duvet, i was adamant that a good time was to be had and we were going big! i was home by 1.30…pathetic.

you know when you’re out and you can just tell the night is going no where. neighbourhood had no talent whatsoever. so 2 glasses of wine and on my second jack and lime, i was hoping that if i drank more, something might improve. so, i had another one. and just as i was beginning to think “ha, i’m not getting drunk at all. it must be my new drink tolerance.” it hit me and i was telling the whole world, how awesome they were and "shhhhh, i’s got secret. i’s in august ‘shoo of cosmo..ze magasheen. don’t tell ‘nyones…"mmm..

bored with my own tales, off i trotted to fiction for their third bday. the joys of having a fiction card was soon tarnished when i promptly skipped the queue only to realize that none of my posse had a card so i was on the dfloor. alone (ok with the rest of the clientele, but still alone) busting a move and forgetting that the rest of my mates were outside in the queue in the cold.

drink number whatever later, i found myself next to mike who was spewing out his own awesomeness to his little blonde victim. when I heard him go on about how he was sure to get the vodacom single ladies ad, i just had to step in.

moi: you went to the casting?

mike: yes, of course. i was requested.

moi: oh really? they requested you?

mike: yeah, how awesome is that? i’m definitely getting it.

moi: wait, let me get this right. so they requested to see you? i presume not for the female dancers…so that means they they think you’re perfect for the geeky, webcam loser role?

well, that shut him up. 1 for the home team.

foiled!

2009-05-14T07:55:00.003+02:00

smokers can relate to this one.

why in the world do cigarette companies put that piece of foil on top of your cigarettes that all smokers instantly discard when they open a new box? seriously- what a lass. can you just imagine the amount of paper and trees and forests we could save if that little piece of foil wasn’t there. why the hell is it there? it’s not like it’s proof that the pack has not previously been opened, 'cos that’s what the plastic wrap is for. it’s not a freshness thing, 'cos then the box would be vacuumed sealed and that would be a whole new level of lass. so why? aesthetic reasons? like i care if my cigarette box looks good…ok, so maybe just a little bit 'cos a smooshed box that was in your back pocket and drunkenly retrieved does not well, quite look as good, but then you’re drunk, so at that point all you want is nicotine. in any form even if it’s from the lungs of some random who just happened to be on the dance floor. so, I’m lazy and going to fetch my bag from the bar would have been way too much effort. lucky for random- right place, right time…for him.

bridget jones wants to quit smoking by her birthday and by her wanting to quit, that somehow includes me..baaaahahahahaha. er, ‘scuse me, but when did i sign up for this? did you forget that smoking is my number one favourite thing to do? the only way i’m quitting smoking is if our naturally given air is now wrapped in rolling paper and comes with a filter.

but i digress-i’m a dedicated blue box smoker.so much so that should i run out of cash and am dying for a smoke, i would snub the person who offers me menthol. menthol? why don’t i jusy light up a peppermint? but, woe the night when i’m out of cash and out of smokes. i am also a self confessed drunken cigarette slut. ooh, a cigarette rep? marlboroughs? yes, please. in all honesty, after the 4th jagerbomb, juts like alcohol, anything will do. ok, not anything. i still say no to stuyvie red. i may want to kill myself on occasion but not that quickly.

one more thing- and why in the uk , when you buy smokes from a machine, do they only give you 16? what’s that about? is the other 4 donated to homeless people? or is there a guy in the machine secretly standing there with a bunch of stolen cigarettes? what a rip! not only is the price inflated, there is no alternative but to buy from the machine and then they only give you 16…another reason SA rocks.

anyhoo, back to the foil strip- maybe if i save up enough strips, i’ll have enough to make a solar panel.

put your hands up

2009-05-12T13:49:00.002+02:00

just got back from a casting. why i still go to these things is beyond me. well, that's not altogether true now is it? it's the money. i'll make a complete ass of myself if it means the big kaching. what do i care? i'm due my fifteen minutes.

so this was the brief (and man do they like to keep it vague.)
dancer.
erm...define daaaaaancer? cos from what i can see, that could basically mean anything from gay vogue routine to well, i can sway my hips even though i'm a size 40.
learn routine from beyonce's single ladies video.
by "learn" do you mean "interpret" or do you mean like actually learn learn? cos i only got the text last night and saw they vid this morning soooo...does winging it count?

an hour and a half later of waiting, watching the video, hiding in the back corner away from the dancers who actually knew the routine, i swung my hips, did the grind down low, then skipped around and then sweated up a storm. panting, i decided maybe i should save some of my fabulousness for the actual casting and then went to queue up...next!

casting lady: "please state your name and then let's see your profile"
moi: hey, it's moi and by profile do you mean like facebook or like the side of my face
casting lady: side of your face

thanks i feel so much less anxious now that you barked that at me.

casting lady starts music- "all the single ladies, all the single ladies..."

oh dear lord what the hell am i doing?! i'm slapping my ass for another female and i'm not drunk.

new all time low i tell you

an open letter

2009-05-11T12:43:00.004+02:00

this weekend i got a text from thank you, stoked about how he was on the guest list for chevelle and would be partying for free 'cos that's how he rolls... he ended up spending the night in. clearly the world has gone mad. so i had to do something about it.you know, excercise my civic duty and all. this is the result thereof:

hey club owner extroadinaire

i just wanted to give you some feedback on the reviews i've been getting about chevelle. let me preface this by saying that i whole heartedly support the cape town club scene and in the interest of improving what we already have, here are a few thoughts. use them/don't use them.

i am to the point and direct. please don't think me arrogant, but i know what i like and what i don't. i've been around the world and partied in every major city, so as a consumer, i know what I want and where i'll spend my money and let's be honest, that's what it's about at the end of the day.

chevelle's website is awesome. i think, maybe, too awesome because from the site i already had an idea of what to expect and unfortunately the reality does not live up to the hype.

here are my issues:

i assumed that chevelle would cater to the elite. not the rich, but the who's who, trendy "it" people, but it doesn't. it is almost verging on the ftv crowd in that the crowd that arrives expect to see the "it" crowd but are not actually part of it. (snob like i know- but honest). case in point- a short man in cammo trousers doing the running man when i entered, is not what i want to see when i'm in stilettos and a little black dress.

suggestion: two lines at door- guestlist and plebs

guestlist- means complimentary entrance by pre arranged agreement only. not 50% off. it's not a sale. it doesn't make you half cool. you either pay or you don't.

as per many other clubs in major cities, the ratio is 2 girls per a guy allowed into the club. it might sound strict for cape town, but that means you can turn away those groups who are only guys with no girls...as in who wants to enter a club when you're a female to a room full of predators?

dress Code: and this one is a particularly major one for me: if chevelle is about the “it" crowd, then men need to wear collard shirts and no trainers.period.

the main bar: shooters and cocktails? hello?! girls drink cocktails. cocktails are expensive drinks...see where i am going here? i'm not asking for tequila and jagerbombs, but a vodka sourz or some sort of shooter-the more you drink, the more you want to drink. i also think your price structuring is a little inflated. if i'm paying R80 for 2 single vodkas, lime and water, it had better be grey goose vodka. bartenders- their attitude is not cool.

the main bar seating- considering it is technically a waiting room for the dance floor, the layout is wrong as you have an overcrowded bar area, too few seating areas and a pseudo dancefloor. my suggestion- open the actual dance floor earlier.

there is clearly a lot that is so on the money, otherwise chevelle wouldn't still be open. again- this is constructive criticism. i have a wide group of friends and this is the info i'm hearing from them. make the guest feel like it is a prize to get into your club, not like it's a prize for your staff to serve them.

good luck

moi

in other news: as a reward for my good behaviour this weekend (i didn't go out at all. i know! have i finally got rid of fomo?) sars has given me a tax return! i think it'll cover my 2 min noodles for the rest of the year...and they say there is no god.

the truth about sleeping beauty

2009-05-07T09:05:00.005+02:00

what makes me keep thinking that i can, indeed, party midweek? i think the last time i remember walking out of a club and straight to work, was when i was 18 and sleep was a mere nuisance between sunset and sunrise. i have undoubtably, reached the age where 8 hours has become mandatory or i am rendered entirely useless.-merely a husk of my chirpy, quick witted self. the best you will get out of me is a aaaaarrrgh.

it always starts out with the innocent “just one drink” doesn't it? whoever originated that lame ass persuasion phrase should have it inscribed on their tombstone. my drink of choice was- clichéd as it is- a cosmo. and you know how it goes…"mmm, haven’t had one in a while and it tastes soooo good. well one more won’t hurt," and then you’re in the swing of things and you forget that a bar does in fact serve water and since you’re so terribly parched and your automatic response to “drink?” has now become “cosmo”, you just go with it. afterall, it’s a pink drink. how dangerous can it be?

well let me tell you- i'm wearing no make up. i have not straightened my hair. i am wearing flats. i am also wearing a hat and all my focus is going into not falling asleep at my desk.

i am the poster child (young adult?) for the virtues of sleep.

woza whenever!

2009-05-04T13:41:00.006+02:00

what do people do on sunday nights? you know the working week looms when the sun has set and you find yourself desperately trying to cling onto the carefree frivolity of the last few hours that is your weekend. and then, once you realize that there is absolutely nothing decent left to watch on tv, you’ve already had lunch with your mates, your flat is now immaculately clean, you’ve dressed and redressed yourself, in your head, in preparation for monday morning wardrobe madness and then you feel it’s pull. like a beacon of hope, there it is. a golden halo- beckoning for you to waste the last of your text bundle and so, it begins. the familiar itchy fingers. that urge to text some one. anyone. no,no, nooooo, you’ve been down this road before. you’re only looking for trouble.

2 cigarettes later, a trip to the fridge to make sure that indeed, nothing has changed, the milk still looks the same, and you’re back on your couch with phone in hand. the power of evil has taken you over and you’re off. texting anyone and everyone who you think might even remotely respond. this weeks theme was: “the men i loved, lost or learnt from” featuring none other than joziboy, the schmodel and the man who found jesus…what was i thinking? i really didn’t care anymore. what have i got to lose? ah yes, that very last bit of dignity. oh well, must as well go for bust right?

a few dexterous digit movements later and my phone was singing that intoxicating tone of incoming messages. too bad i ran out of credit before i could reply.

pick and pay

2009-04-30T15:30:00.003+02:00

so the new budget lasted all of 24 hours. went to do groceries last night, which i absolutely loathe doing. reasons being- grocery shopping, on kloof street, is like a meat market for the single man. the man on the prowl who lingers at the yoghurt counter while you decide between low fat and fat free, then the queues which take forever and there will be a conversation about your items from one cashier to the other, with their judgemental looks, “oooh, she eats nothing, but she has wiiiiiiiine. I bet she has a kajillion cats too,” i imagine. so, armed with the ipod fully charged and the energy of a trolley dash, i was ready to follow the game plan: 26 packets of 2 min noodles, wine, laundry detergent and loo roll. after zooting round the shops with said items in trolley, even i felt a little sad for myself. so off i went on round two- adding expensive cheeses and crackers and avo’s and anything to make it look like i was actually shopping to entertain people. yes, this is even more sad than before i admit. shopping grand total- 3 times what i had budgeted.

another reason i despise shopping for one, is that it is a totally ridiculous concept. chicken comes in packs of four, bread comes in loaves and milk in litres. who do they think i’m shopping for? a bulimic? i eat at home maybe 3 times a week. i don’t do breakfast, i have lunch at work and supper, should i attempt anything other than a toasted cheese, doesn’t really feature on my to-do list. the person to come up with the single gals grocery shop will coin it. i don’t eat fast enough to get through produce before the expiration date, so the majority of my food goes into the trash. i can’t help it if i can’t decide what i want to eat in four days time when i’m in the store. and i usually do groceries after work, when i’m starving, so i end up buying everything from lasagna, to tacos to indian curry sauce which still lies in the cupboard, 4 months later.

so you’re probably saying- why don’t you buy ready meals or shop each nite? see above- how do i know what i want to eat friday when i shop on monday? and who has time to stop at the shops every night? could make for a great diet though- too lazy to shop, then you don't eat. so, yes, my staple diet is 2 min noodles and you’d be amazed how many variations i’ve created. anyone for noodles with HP sauce?

payday blues

2009-04-28T11:08:00.006+02:00

from: moi
sent: tuesday, april 28, 2009 3:35 pm
subject: no money

bridget jones!
aaaaaargh- just worked out budget for month- 2 min noodles it is if I want to save some money and very little going out. kill me now!

from: bridget jones
sent: tuesday, april 28, 2009 3:47 pm
to: moi
subject: re: no money

i know , trying to organise a get together for all the peeps at kink on thursday ?? good idea ??? or do you want to go watch wolverine ….

baked beans and toast lolol xx so so broke and still another month till pay day …and have to go to that god damn wedding next week , going to buy them a broom for their gift lol- no actually that’s too expensive, maybe 5 packs of noodles xx

from: moi
sent: tuesday, april 28, 2009 3:48 pm
to: bridget jones
subject: re: re: no money

buying them a broom? is that for when the bride inevitably turns into a witch? maybe they have a matching hat to go with it.

i’ve been digging into my savings the last month, so i had to replenish it, which means this month i need to go easy on the spending and the very many drunken nights at fucking fiction. i think we have now down graded to four cousins at home which in all honestly is actually a much safer place for me to drink.

kink on thurs sounds like fun though….oh well. i’ll live on fresh air.

from: bridget jones
sent: tuesday, april 28, 2009 3:49 pm
to: moi
subject: re:re:re:no money

can fresh air make you flirt, dance and have fun ???….think we should try it out…or buy bulk 3litres of four cousins ………

from: moi
sent: tuesday, april 28, 2009 3:49 pm
to: bridget jones
subject:re: re: re: no money

and that's why we're flat mates- 1.5l four cousins it is!

back in the day

2009-04-20T11:29:00.004+02:00

on my usual friday night tipple around town, i serendipitously (is that even a word?) ran into a friend who i had not seen in maybe ten years. and when i say serendipitously, i mean practically fell over the guy. it was already after 2am and what he must have assumed was my excitement of running into him, was actually just my permanent tequila induced grin.

he then proceeded to reminisce about the good ol' days and how he had been thinking of me since then...really? reeeeaaally? i'm flattered, but i cannot reciprocate. yes, i remembered your name, but that was just a lucky guess. after a very awkward chat, with my feet doing the charleston in an attempt to stay upright, i flashed my most credible smile and was then on my merry way.

mid conversation with a bunch of foreigners, during my french speaking quest to gauge the importance of ze german having bought me a toothbrush (direct translation "un brosse pour mes dents), in pops the long lost friend who now wants my number...
for what? to rehash this conversation which as you can tell, i barely recall? or to reignite a flame which i sincerely doubt, was even a spark...

hypothetically i give him my number. then what? he texts, maybe three years later, to say what? hey? even then, in my sozzled state, i realized this was a road to nowhere and declined. if you really want to see me again, wait 'til the next ten year reunion.

seasonal depression

2009-04-17T13:46:00.002+02:00

ok, who decided it was time to switch off the sun? i don't remember being memo'd on this one and i take great offence that the sun no longer shines when i wake up. it's getting to the point where instead of hearing the alarm go off and easing may way out of bed to hitting snooze a zillion times 'til i wake up in a mad panic, hair standing in every direction and then realising that it's now an hour after the first alarm went off and i better haul ass. then, as i sit in traffic on the way to work, i think why is it i'm rushing off to a job i hate and remember oh yes, shoes don't buy themselves.

eish! my hair doesn't work in rain or mist or spitting moisture. peeptoes leave my toes turning blue and sexy little skirts are replaced with trousers...i is not a happy camper.

sierra oscar sierra

2009-04-14T08:00:00.005+02:00

how is it that there are so many incredible women who are single in cape town? i stand firmly that it is not by choice, but more about lack of choice. i’ve been back in the city for just over two years now and never in my life or in those of my girl friends, has finding a compatible person to form a relationship with, been so difficult. it is a veritable warzone out there. from dodging the weirdos and using evasive tactics to bypass an ill judged drunken kiss, to deciphering coded messages-text or otherwise and of course deploying heat missiles to locate former potentials who have suddenly gone awol.

one of the main reasons for this melange of minefields, is the infamous clique-iness that is cape town. everyone rolls in a gang of some sort-the emo’s, the trancers, the claremont jocks, the foreigners, the hippies/potheads, the ex-joburgers/pe crowd the list goes on into subsections i can’t even comprehend. once you’re in a clique, that’s it- game over. you have now successfully decreased your chances of meeting anyone in ct down to a third. there is an unspoken group dynamic that once you’re in, every social event (and by social event i mean an opportunity to drink ie friday) you now attend will have that same guestlist again and again. in fact, it gets so bad, that it’s not that you’re just meeting the same people again and again, but you’re meeting the same type of people since naturally, your clique only circulates within the same genre. before you know it, you have literally run out of new people to meet and lord have mercy on the soul who has entered into the wrong clique and is now stuck with social commitment after another with no hope of ever seeing the light of day again. ludicrous as it sounds- it happens, true story.

six degrees of seperation- a popular little game, is actually the reality in cape town. i presume that is part of the reason this whole no dating within the group “rule” orginated ie adam and sarah are in the same group and hook up. adam is from constantia and plays rugby with joe, joe’s girlfriend went to herschel and her older sister is lucy who used to be best friend’s with sarah, but is no longer because she fooled around with adam in plett.

of course there are pro’s to being in a gang: you never have to walk into a bar and fear that you know no one there since the cliques usually have a core of about 30 “members”. here’s the thing though, you can’t hook up with anyone in the group. you can’t hook up with anyone who is brought into the group by a "member" and since you’re out with this group most weekends, where does that leave the single person? you shouldn’t date at work for obvious reasons which basically leaves some one like me with a choice of the café cashier, the security at clubs and the doorman at work… mission impossible?

so close

2009-04-14T07:53:00.002+02:00

i got asked out by a stockbroker this week. yeah, now before you go congratulating me on finally moving on up like the jeffersons , let me preface all this and explain why i declined.

it was three weeks ago at neighbourhood – remember that night when i was supposed to go home after work, but the investment banker hollered to get my ass out for a drink?-well that’s the night the stock broker made an appearance at our table. (evidently, stockbrokers and investment bankers are not the same thing at all. it’s like comparing apples and oranges but hey, in my mind they’re still fruit and therefore same category anyhoo….)

since, according to the stock broker, we had met on a previous occasion- (some impression he made on me that i could not recall him nor the occassion or it could just be my very selective memory?) for some reason i was left to my own devices, by the gang, on managing this convo and since i know nothing about investments and very little about the actual goings on in the recession- yes, i confess, i ended up talking about provident funds…me, of all people, so at a loss for common ground, ends up discussing provident funds. a good 30min later, the stockbroker thanks me for the chat and off he goes. not another thought on it from my part…that is until the investment banker mails me to ask if it’s ok to give the stock broker my digits. who?! that guy from 3 weeks ago…erm…

now don’t think me presumptuous or anything, but i can kinda see where this is heading and well, how does one simply say those 6 words –i think you’re undesirable and boring? no, no- the other 6 words- i’m just not that into you. on paper- this guy is polite, intelligent, financially sound and would be perfect…but for some one else. i wish i were the “no conscience gold digger”, but alas the rule is no butterflies then no thank you!

eventually i did the "little white lie" thing and told him i was currently involved and didn’t think it would be appropriate to meet up for dinner. aaaaw, so close. thank you for playing and please try again later.

i must be crazy for declining a perfectly good date you might think, especially when the dating scene is as vapid as it currently is in ct, but with the big 3-0 creeping up on me, i just can’t see myself settling.

in other news- it is the weekend of the return of ze german. let’s see if he makes contact and yet again joziboy has vowed to make an appearance in the fair cape next weekend. uh huh and the easter bunny is going to wake me up on sunday morning…

apologies

2009-04-12T19:54:00.003+02:00

so i had a wicked little post for thursday, but as it turned out i forgot in the mad rush to get ready to meet up with the gang. then it was recovery friday and then went off to the folks place- the land of no reception. and now as i want to upload it from the laptop- the damn battery is dead...so hang in there. it'll be up on tuesday maybe sooner.

happy easter and all
xoxo

girls just wanna have fun

2009-04-06T16:25:00.004+02:00

this friday night was the long awaited girls’ night out. in other words, a very thinly veiled, “my boyfriend is away/working/busy and i have nothing to do, so let’s make it an exclusively estrogen filled night.”

what was supposed to be a fancy, high falutin, cocktails reception at the grand daddy, ended up being a 30 degree night, up a gajillion flights of stairs- in heels nogal (i don’t do elevators) to the balcony…wait for it…only to discover that the bar closed 2 mins before we arrived. bloody murphy again! it should have been seen as an omen but no, parched as we all were, we had one ciggie- to compose ourselves, before the trek downstairs to quench our thirst.

for a so called hotel bar, i waited 15 mins before i was served and then had to wait an additional 7 minutes to get, what i can only presume is the same stuff they use to make nail varnish remover, and then they had the audacity to charge me to drink that too! now i know what you’re thinking- why didn’t i just go get another drink? hello- do you seriously think i wanted to wait another 22 mins? did i mention there was no seating either? well, there was seating, but it was taken up by a group of pseudo men. yes ladies, chivalry is dead. well, in this hotel anyway, but don’t you worry your little heads- i got my money’s worth in the form of one newly aquired ashtray. and one last word about this hotel- why, oh why, is it positioned twenty thousand blocks from the rest of long street?

now this would be the part where i tell you in infinite detail exactly what happens on a girls night out: alas, i shan’t. let’s just say some one went home very early, some one got very drunk, some one complained about her sore feet all night, some one lost some one else, some one lost her phone, some one drunk dialed, some one kissed a complete random, some one flirted with her ex, some one invited her boyfriend to join us and some one completely disappeared. and this some one is just glad that everyone has memory loss and that what went down that night, will go with us to the grave.

karmic retribution

2009-04-02T14:15:00.005+02:00

it's the 2nd of april and i'm broke. already.ok, not broke, broke that i need to go home to the folks house to eat, more like i need to pre match at home before going out cos cocktails at hotel bars are not cheap.

it all really started when i bought a pair of boots and then a digital camera and then some clothes and obviously rent and food and more shoes. i was playing russian roulette with my salary. seeing how little i could actually have left before the next money injection. in fact, bridget jones laughed at me as she read the glamour mag when it said- "you know you're a glamour girl when your fridge is empty, but you can't decide which designer ensemble to wear"...mmm... at least lack of food keeps me thin...ish.

truth is, i was banking on selling a pair of boots i've owned for the last three years. i have never worn them and have yet to find an occassion which is worthy of them. i mean they're white for goodness sake, with a metal, stiletto heel. i wouldn't even let anyone breathe on them let alone, let them touch the pavement. red carpet only baby and oooh how hot they do make your legs look!

it was three years ago. my flatmate at the time (metrosexual hottie) and i were in new york on our annual pilgrimage. he discovered this fabulous shoe store, but it was late at night and then told me about it over dinner. needless to say we, there at the crack of dawn awaiting at the doors, was us. let me clarify- i was there for me, he was there to buy his girlfriend (who i hated-long story) shoes as a gift. as the hallowed doors opened, we both ran to the same pair of boots and of course, there was only one pair left in my size which is her size. since she wasn't there, i had to try them on. they fit like a glove. i strutted around the store in them. turned around again and again in the mirror to admire how totally incredible they looked. i had to to have them. price check please? $650...gulp.

the ex flatmate flippantly retorted that if i can't afford them, then he'll get them for her. er...i think not. see that woman in my boots. i'd rather pull out my toenails one by one thank you very much. after numerous calculations on how to balance rent vs food vs boots. i closed my eyes and swiped my card.

three years later- they're still in my closet. in the plastic wrapping. in the box. the only time they were permitted to escape was one drunken night when i thought that the only way to seduce the man of the moment was to wear the boots and lingerie and make that silhouetted entrance to the bedroom. needless to say, in the state that i was in, i barely got them out the box.

and thus, the boots are currently displayed on ebay. it's a good thing i won tickets to the taste of cape town this weekend- at least i'll be eating.

hey ho! let's go!

2009-03-30T13:39:00.005+02:00

i didn't think i would ever find myself dressed in pigtails, short shorts, knee socks and other golfing attire on a street corner, in greenpoint, at 5 0'clock, but there i was this saturday. and before you say that my need for shoe money has finally got out of control-no, i was not a golf fetish "lady of the night", but instead i was there to support little black book marketing and their pub golf event.

basic concept- a game of golf consists of teeing off and basically hitting a ball with a stick and then walking around aimlessly to find it so that you can hit it again and then go find it again...pub golf: substitute hole with a bar/pub and hitting ball for downing a drink et voila! a game with no handicapps!

hole one- jade bar- the before picture. everyone all civilised and making polite conversation

hole two-cafe sofia. dominate coffee shop, make a lot of noise whilst rugby is on and scare off other patrons

hole three- fireman's arms. long walk from cafe sofia. tell big issue guy i don't want his magazine. i got enough issues. laugh at own joke. fireman's patrons give us props for dressing in theme.

hole four-bambu. not even eight o'clock. we're the only patrons (maybe 50 of us) dominate dfloor. breakin it down old skool. barstaff think we're mad as they're still setting up bar.

hole five-friendly society. earth hour. patron protesting that lights are still on. i tell her if i wanted to sit in the dark, i would have gone to her home- under a rock. decide to drink beer as it's the cheapest of the specials. end up dancing on stage after tripping up the stairs to get there. iz all goooood.

hole six- active sushi. how we got here is a mystery to me. money has magically disappeared from wallet. chat up some bloke who matricualed on 2002 (haha- the young are so gullible). he buys me a suitcase. ooh, yeah! they're playing my favourite song- all the single ladies...(?!) dancing and still sipping beer, but need to cough and it all comes out on dfloor as a splutter. sexy yes?

hole seven- vudu lounge. we changed venues? looks just like the last place. start to talk about my blog (must really stop doing that) skywalker, moans that he's not in it. i told him he hasn't done anything blog worthy as yet.

hole eight-who know's? don't even know where we were. all looks the same. skywalker grabs my hand and tells me he has to talk to me. i skip along since i'm so very happy, happy. he says he needs to tell me a secret and then kisses me.er...ok where did that come from?!

hole nine-bang bang. lucky i have the pub golf stamp and i get in for free. me likey. tell suave he should buy me a suitcase. he goes to bar and i forget and wander off. find him later and tell him he smells like passion fruit. i discover that our mate who never smiles can actually dance. i mean like dip me and spin me and move like a latino. maybe it was just the booze.

clubhouse- take cab home. scrounge in bag for coins. fall into bed still in golf outfit. home in one piece. mission accomplished.