Can I please have a weekend from the weekend??

Oh. My. God. What a weekend!!

My good "friend" Mr. Murphy's Law paid me a little visit. I was absolutely bursting for the loo. I needed to wee immediately and couldn't wait for the ladies queue to die down, so I ducked into the males. Instant relief turned into instant nightmare.
My door wouldn't open. I tried to turn the lock and nothing happened. It was completely jammed. I started banging on the door but no one came to my rescue. I eventually phoned Special K and told her I was stuck in the guys toilet.
It's murphy's law because I get irritated with woman who jump the queue and go straight into the mens etc etc and now this ONE time I do it, I get stuck.
I had to pass the key out of the small square window outside and then wait for them to come back inside and open the door from the outside. Thank God that worked.

On Saturday I went to Pocahontas' bridal shower. I wasn't quite sure what to expect. A sex toy show was the order of the afternoon. Now, in all honesty, I think I am pretty clued up when it comes to bedroom antics. I was shocked! I giggled and giggled like an immature school girl. I blushed different shades of red and scoffed at the different porno names for vibrators and the other sex toys you get.
I was shocked at some things because I didn't realise how naive I was with certain things. Half the time I was like this: "You want to put what, where?" "Noooo!!!!" "You have got to be joking" and "Eeeewww!!!"
But, the absolute classic blushing moment was when they handed out the forms saying: "Now, if you would like to order anything, you can do so by filling out this form."
I jump in saying: "Oooh goody! I'm going to order one or two things, for sure!"
I just never learn to keep my big mouth shut. The woman hadn't finished her sentence and added: "Try and keep it discreet so that no one knows whether you are ordering or not."
Shit.
Our poor Pocahontas ended up puking her lungs out, like any good bachelorette should and went to bed...poor girl!
But...mission accomplished! :-)

Yesterday was Mother's Day. My mom had decided she didn't want to do the usual "go-out-for-lunch" saga and then when the day came she wanted to know where we had booked.
Shit.
So we all hopped into my mom's car (I love it...it's a convertible and we put the roof down) and drove out to Hartebeespoort Dam. We stopped at a few restaurants on the way and surprise, surprise they were fully booked.
We landed up at a restaurant. No, it was a place promising a "Great Pub Lunch and Live Entertainment."
We were placed at a table that had a dirty tablecloth. We asked for a new one and had one taken off the table next to us. The logic was astounding.
We ordered a greek salad for the table and then had to ask for knives and forks, salad dressing and side plates. The drinks order was also fabulous. We sent the cidars back 3 times because they were wrong and then when we asked for glasses they never arrived.
An hour and a half later ( still without food) we called the manager over.
This German, I have one word to sum him up, besides the tight jeans, flicked blonde hair, shirt with the top 4 buttons undone and heavy German accent...the word is ARROGANT, sauntered over to our table.
"Ve are awfully sorry, ze service is vunderfullll, but ze kitschen is a little bit pressurized."
My dad responded and I quote. "No. The service is fucking atrocious! I think this place needs to be managed a little."
Good 'ol dad!
He was so arrogant that he didn't really listen all he said was: "Who is your vaiter?"
"This lady over here."
"Oh, but she is our best vaiter."
My family all looked at each other...Good grief..if she's the best, I shudder to think.
"Don't vorry...I know it is cheesy, but ve vill get you a round of drinks. Yes? Yes."
"That's fine, but please if we could have the food as soon as possible."
Instead of asking what we are drinking, he says to the 'vaiter' "Just bring me ze regular."
We never saw the drinks, just like we never saw the manager ever again.
Our food arrived and after asking for steak knives, I eventually cut into my smallest-piece-of-steak-I-have-ever-seen. It was as tough as anything. It was supposed to be medium rare.
My mom cut into her steak and it was completely raw inside. Not a little raw...it was bleeding.
My sister and dad bit into theirs and theirs was off. Completely rotten.
It is the first time the "Blondie" family has ever done this. We stood up and left.

We arrived at 16h30 at the Silver Orange (hoping and praying they would take us) and had the most delicious meal I have ever tasted! One word: Heaven. Ok, two: Orgasmic.

So that was my weekend. I need a weekend from the weekend.