Hickey's, watermelon, Sex and the City, mom and charity....you come up with a title for this! LOL

This weekends charity event was an interesting one. It got drenched. Wow and Wags Charity event was held outside with a small marquee for guests to enjoy champagne and canapes. Their actual seats for the show were outside. We had a small marquee for celebrities, make-up artists, hair stylists and wet dogs. It was chaos. Our marquee actually flooded and some bags were soaked. Designer gowns were soaked and we had to walk out onto the ramp, dog in one hand and umbrella in the other. It was tres interesting.
I know we wanted rain, hell, we bitched about the dryness, but hells bells, it sure made up for it on Saturday night. Hail, thunder, large droplets...it was proper.


When was the last time you got a hickey? No really. I discovered I had one on my shoulder...not an intentional-16-year-old-let's-give-you-a-hickey but rather a nuzzle that was harder than expected and left a purple mark. Dude. Not great. Not great when you have a strappy dress and the make-up atist whispers loudly: "Should I cover that with base?"
Isn't the purpose of a whisper to be discreet? I mean seriously. Why bother whispering? Why not announce it over the PA system?
Thing is I wasn't aware what "that" was.
So Blondie here, being...well, blonde says: "Cover what?"
"Your hickey!"
"Wh..what?"
At this stage a few people have gathered around to see what must have been Barney's purple head grinning at them on my neck.
Lovely.
They all gave me the look. The "I-know-what-you've-been-doing-Grrrrrrr!!!" look.
It turns out it wasn't as bad as it originally seemed and quite frankly it really can't quite be classified as a hickey. Right? It was a nuzzle. A loving nuzzle that left a mark. I'm putting it out there.


Today I went to visit mom. She's definitely doing better. I brought over watermelon and the Sex and the City Movie DVD. I bought it yesterday. I HAD to have it in my DVD Collection. I also found the Marilyn Munroe Complete DVD Collection. I've never seen a single movie with her in it, but strangely enough and I really can't explain it, but I'm fascinated by her.
I wanted to buy it without a hesitation, until I saw the price. Dear God! R2000! Um... Next time...ahem.

Anyway, so... mom and I were perched on the bed, watermelon on laps indulging in 2 hours of bliss. What a movie. I had forgotten how many sex scenes there were. Yes Blondie strikes again...
It doesn't matter how close you are to your mom, it is still awkward whenever any sex scene comes on screen it doesn't matter if it's 5 seconds or 5 minutes. Awkward.



I thought this was a fitting picture...Watermelon and Sex and The City ;-)

Charity and Showers

So I received this email from my gorgeous sister. I know it's not original, but I'm feeling as original as....um... see? Can't even think of that! So...here it is! It made me wet my pants. Not literally, but nearly. Just saying.

Part 1: HOW TO SHOWER LIKE A WOMAN:
Take off clothing and place it in sectioned laundry hamper according tolights and darks.
Walk to bathroom wearing long dressing gown.. If you see husband alongthe way, cover up any exposed areas. Look at your womanly physique inthe mirror, make mental note to do more sit-ups/leg-lifts, etc.
Get in the shower. Use face cloth, arm cloth, leg cloth, long loofah,wide loofah and pumice stone.
Wash your hair once with cucumber and sageshampoo with 43 added vitamins.
Wash your hair again to make sure it's clean.
Condition your hair with grapefruit mint conditioner.
Wash your face with crushed apricot facial scrub for 10 minutes until red.
Wash entire rest of body with ginger nut and jaffa cake body wash.
Rinse conditioner off hair.
Shave armpits and legs.
Turn off shower.
Squeegee off all wet surfaces in shower.
Spray mold spots with Tilex.
Get out of shower.
Dry with towel the size of a small country.
Wrap hair in super absorbent towel.
Return to bedroom wearing long dressing gown and towel on head.If you see husband along the way, cover up any exposed areas.

Part 2: HOW TO SHOWER LIKE A MAN:
Take off clothes while sitting on the edge of the bed and leave them ina pile.
Walk naked to the bathroom. If you see wife along the way, shake willy at her while making the woo-hoo sound.
Look at your manly physique in the mirror. Admire the size of your willy and scratch your butt.
Get in the shower.
Wash your face.
Wash your armpits.
Blow your nose in your hands and let the water rinse the snot off.
Fart and laugh at how loud it sounds in the shower.
Spend majority of time washing privates and surrounding area.
Wash your butt, leaving those coarse butt hairs stuck on the soap.
Wash your hair.
Make a shampoo Mohawk.
Pee.
Rinse off and get out of shower.
Partially dry off.
Fail to notice water on floor because curtain was hanging out of tub thewhole time.
Admire willy size in mirror again.
Leave shower curtain open, wet mat on floor, light and fan on.
Return to bedroom with towel around waist.
If you pass the wife, pulloff towel, shake willy at her and make the woo-hoo sound again.
Throw wet towel on her pillow.

Like I said...nearly wee'd.

I am quite excited about tomorrow night. I do a lot of charity work and tomorrow night I am a part of Wow and Wags the proceeds will go to: FreeMe
I am being dressed by Story Design -an incredible designer and my Garden Terrorist and this post is being dressed by Doggie Hillfigher.
Exciting times!

Have a wicked weekend biatches!

Ze French have a way with words....

So, seen any aliens? Today was D-Day. Will Smith didn't need to be on alert,after all!
Well... What a fucking day.

I was asked to be in a fashion show today for charity. I am not a model. I am not size zero and I am doing this for fun with other profiles. Some are top models and others that are TV personalities, radio presenters etc.
Right. So. The organiser of the show, who happens to be a friend of mine, asked for my dress size.
I told him and he looked at me like I was crazy.
"Honey! You are hardly that size! Look at all the weight you've lost!"
"Flattery babe, thank you, but I know my body. Even though I've lost weight, I've lost no weight in my boobs (thank God) and my back bones/ribs can't lose weight and I've always had a broad back. I know my size hun!"
I arrive at the rehearsal and dress fitting last night, to find that he has organised dresses (they're beautiful and expensive designer dresses) that are 3 sizes too small.
As a result, I had to organise with the boutiques and designers to get new dresses tomorrow morning (the day of the show...which is today. Keep up.) Not my job and a little annoying, but he's a friend and I don't mind. All that much.
Oh and this is awesome, I am standing with Miss South Africa and other celeby models who are trying on size 28 and 30 dresses.
"Oooh, it's too big. We'll have to pin it!"
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrggggggggghhhhhhhh!! I can bearly fit the dresses over my head or above my knees. Kill me now.

I race off to the first designer (time is of the essence) and eventually find something that fits.
I then race off to the show, do the final rehearsal and then race to the final store before the actual show starts.
Mission and a half. I walk in with the dress that doesn't fit. It's a size 32. I go straight to the manager who actually happens to be the owner of the store. She's French. A FRENCH BITCH!
"Hi there, I need to change this dress for the Fashion Show happening in 2 hours time!"
"Oh, is ze model obese?"
"Excuse me? It's actually for me. I'm not a model, I'm one of the personalities modelling in it."
"But you are 'uge!"
"WHAT??"
"Zis is ze beegest dress we 'ave!"
"Well, I am hardly obese...I'm a normal woman who has curves."
"Well zis is a beeg size for ze French. You will stretch ze clothes."
"Right. You're in SA and I don't need you being bitchy, I just need a solution since I'm wearing your clothes in an hour! If you'd rather I don't, trust me, I'd be thrilled. I don't need to wear your lousy clothes anyway."
She sulked off and threw outfits into the change room while making sarcastic, bitchy comments to her shop assistant about getting Really, really, really BEEG sizes and "non, non, that vil never fit her...get her a beeger one."

Fuck, I'm so pissed off. I couldn't believe the nerve. I was actually more irritate with myself that I hadn't stood up for myself and bitch slapped her. I wish I wasn't such a walk over, but it was literally one of those: Could've; should've; would've scenarios.

I finally found something and pushed my shoulders back, the boobs forward, sucked the tummy in and pasted a smile on my face and walked out there...no I "minced" out there for the world to see this Curvy REAL woman strutting her stuff down the catwalk.

I had fun, but dude.

Good time to laugh!

I had a TV interview today with the Garden Terrorist. I had to speak about my dog etc... it was cute. I, however, was very nervous for my dog to be in a new environment with 10 other dogs. He's very friendly, but with so much stimulation and excitement, he may get protective over me.

We arrived at the studio's and all was lovely, but they asked us to be there and hour and a half before we actual went on set. I didn't know this at the time. It was a mission trying to keep him still, calm and cool from the heat.
He was extremely well behaved and I was really proud of him, but as it goes, he started getting irritable plus he was over heating. I took him outside to try and get him to drink some water and maybe go for a wee. We walked around for a while and were finally called to go onto set.
As we walked inside, The Garden Terrorist just let out the biggest diarroeah shit I have ever seen in my life. The poor dude! I felt so embarrassed and tried to get someone to hold him (all 43kgs of him) while I try and clean it up. Charming.
This guy turned around (Thank God!) and said, "Don't stress. I'll do it!"
Well, I don't know what happened to me. I was so stressed from the whole thing and suddenly seeing this guy cleaning up liquid shit was just unbelievably hysterical. I felt like a mad woman. Laughing to the point that I there was no sound coming out of my mouth, I was doubled over and tears were coming out of my eyes. It was that nervous, uncomfortable, I-don't-know-what-to-do-right-now laughter and the more I felt uncomfortable and embarrassed that I was laughing, with him cleaning it up, the more I felt like I was going to wee.
I was finished, the minute he started gagging. I wanted to die from embarrassment but the tears of laughter flowed. I must have looked like such a bitch.
I don't know why I do that. I don't know why I laugh when I'm uncomfortable. It's a horrible vicious circle.
The poor thing. He was so well behaved but had had enough by the time we got onto set that all his training and manners went out the window. The poor host (petrified of dogs) was nervous and 4 of us had to sit on a couch with 4 dogs. They all started going for each other on "Live" TV. No cuts, no "please control your animal", nothing. All "live". "Live" because it's recorded as if it's live.
Live to tape is the correct expression. Apparently.
The Garden Terrorist (G.T) kept wanting to sniff the Husky and Great Dane, who weren't too fond of their butts being smelled, so they snapped, he snapped and I had to yank 43kgs back, nearly taking the host out.
I also don't know if I answered any of her questions correctly because I was so busy trying to tame G.T. Argh.
I couldn't wait to get him home. I was just starting to feel horrible about putting the G.T in this situation. It was all for charity and this was just the publicity around it. We haven't even done the actual event. Oh. dear. God.

Humbling.

I look like a smurf. Some colleagues and I went to the Guild Cottage. It is a safe haven for children between the ages of 5 and 15 who have been sexually abused and traumatised. They are mixed races of boys and girls and it is just heart breaking. We never got to meet the kids as they were at school plus their trust has been broken by adults and we were told they can be quite aggressive. We were told that they are in desperate need for the boys rooms to be painted. We brought along light blue paint and painted the corridor and boys rooms. I am high from the fumes of paint and turps. I look like a smurf because the walls and I are having a contest to see who could have more paint on them. Apparently, blue is my colour. Go figure!

We got to have a look around the premises and it is beautiful. I like to think that the children who live here are somewhat lucky to be in a safe environment. Even though we didn't get to meet the children, we saw lots of photo's on the wall. I was amazed at their bright, cheerful faces. You would never know by looking at the photo's. Isn't that so incredibly telling?
It just shows that you can never quite tell what is going on in someones world.
I feel incredibly humbled and sad. HOW can someone sexually abuse anyone, let alone a child?
A child?
I get so angry and I'm really glad to have been a part of something (even if it was small) that can change their surroundings and the world they live in.

I am, however, feeling awful. My sinus' have been really affected by yesterdays dusty wind and today's fumes. I have a dull headache and I feel exhausted.

It's Fashion Week and I am supposed to be going tonight, but I don't know if I'm up for it.
Tomorrow I'm going to the EA Games Music Festival with my "twin". That should be amazing!

I hope you have a brilliant weekend!

PS> My man is going to that European country for 14 days. 2 whole weeks. I'm bummed.

PPS> It is Michael Jackson's 50th Birthday and no one has seen him in a while. Until now. I have NO words. Oh and I find this rather ironic too, considering what I did today! I'm just saying. Ouch!