I woke up this morning to my alarm clock/cellphone that sings out "La Bamba" LOUDLY. Mr.G rolled over, groaning: "Whyyyy does your alarm clock have to be so loud? Shit Blondie. I can never get back to sleep."
Blondie: "Well, guess it's successful then, hey?"
Mr. G: "Sssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhh!!!!"
I slunk out of bed, into the shower that nearly took my first layer of skin off, it was that hot. I obviously turned the tap a bit too far to the left. I let out the biggest scream that I'm sure the neighbours woke up after that.
Mr. G was in bed, cigarette in mouth glaring at me when I, the pink lobster, came out.
Mr.G: " I'm awake now."
It's best not to say anything.
I was off to a Charity, Gals only Breakfast. You could win a make-over worth R200 000. That would have been fabulous and needed, but I was there to support my mates - one was in the fashion show and one actually organised the breakfast.
Well, I don't know if it was just one of those days, if it was the weather or people just need a holiday but wow the bitchiness-with-a-smile was flowing today.
You know that bitchiness; they say bitchy things to you, smiling, so you can't actually react to it.
Now I know that the people at the breakfast are "professionals" but wow, give a girl a break. It's raining, I am not blessed with dead straight hair and it's EARLY, for F sakes.
I get this woman from a hair salon who says to everyone: 90% of the women in this room have the wrong hair style and wrong colour.
Well, that wasn't taken very well. The sales pitch failed just because us sensitive souls didn't like our manes being insulted.
Now, I happen to like my blonde hair. I get compliments on my hair, OK?
After the breakfast, the same woman comes to me, looks me up and down and then puts the smile on.
"Daaaahling, are you happy with your hair?"
I'm sipping coffee and I nearly spluttered it out onto her. Should have.
"Um, excuse me?"
"Your hair. Are you happy with it?" she looks at my head, scrutinizing it.
"Yes, why?" I immediately touch it, like it may have fallen out or turned green.
"Hmmm." she says disapprovingly. "Here's my card. You should come and see me."
She smiles and walks off.
I'm a sensitive soul and I LIKE my hair very much. COW!
I was not impressed.
Then, my incredible friend Bunny (the one in the show) and I went bra shopping. I finally found something that fits, gives the...uh... necessary support and my noombies don't look like Madonna cones. I'm browsing for matching panties when one of the store assistants comes up to me and says:
"Are you ok?" smiling again.
"Yes, thank you!" I say, assuming she's asking if I need help in the bra department...(ok, no pun intended.)
"It's cool in here hey?"
"Um, no I think it's a bit humid."
"Oh. Are you one of those who sweats alot?" Looking at my forehead and hair (again)
She smiles and walks away.
I picked up anything close enough to get into the change rooms so that I could see what she's talking about and my hair was a little damp around my face.
For fuck sakes. It's RAINING outside. It's not SWEAT, I JUST DON'T HAVE AN UMBRELLA, ELLA, ELLA EH EH EH!! OK??????????
It didn't end there.
As walked out the change room, that suddenly had a queue, I popped the thing I had taken to "try on" and put it on the "not-taking-it" hanger.
I heard a snigger. Turning around I looked to see what was happening. The ladies were all looking at me and then the hanger.
A pair of red crotchless panties were swinging from side to side.