Loving life

Well, who knew that I would have actually had fun last Thursday night at the ex's event. Sugar was unbelievable on stage. It was my first time seeing her perform live with her Hip Hop band. Move over Black Eyed Peas! WOW!
I saw the ex, he didn't greet me at all and didn't greet any of my friends. I found it weird considering that they all phoned him when we broke up to say they were sorry and that there was no animosity from their side. Anyway, who is judging. Oh and the gf/fling/whatever and the ex were all over each other like a rash. I actually wasn't bothered at all. It was a test for me personally and sure it was hard and weird seeing him kissing someone else, but I didn't have a pang of missing, hurt ot anything like that. In fact that night, just confirmed everything for me and I felt relieved and happy to not be with him anymore. I felt that in the first week of the break up but seeing him with someone new really affirmed everything.
I had fun, we danced and drank and was close to throwing my bra on stage for Sugar. I saw European Boy too and I’m glad that I did. I didn’t think he would pitch, but he has been full of surprises.

This weekend was too much fun! Friday night I chilled out and on Saturday I had brunch with my friends from Varsity, JB and K. I felt like I had walked into Sex and The City. K was telling us about all her single escapades... she makes single life seem fun (as I am finding out myself) I had my jaw on the floor most of the time. I loved it. She is our very own Samantha from SATC. Wow - she has stories that could make anyone blush!
That night, I literally dragged myself out. I'm so glad I did. Sugar and I met up with European Boy. We had so much fun that we only got home in the early hours of the morning.
Let me just say that E.B is an amazing kisser. Another surprise.

Just saying.

I stayed over at Sugar and we literally stayed in bed the entire day, groaning and moaning. We drew straws to see who would get up and make toasted cheese and tea. She drew the short straw. Haha.

Single life is proving to be so much fun!

Oh alright! I'll have another one!

I love spontaneous evenings. A mate of mine sent me an sms saying: Hey Blondie! Why don't you pop round for a quick drink after work? Let's meet at Tanz Cafe!"
So I thought, why not?
I am disillusioned when it comes to thinking any drink after work will be quick? The intention is there, but we all know how it goes. One drink turns into: "Aw c'mon! Just one more!" and before you know it you're clinking glasses with everyone and knocking back shooters. Evil.
I also didn't realise that I was going to be rocking up at a place where a CD Launch was taking place. This always seems to happen to me. I know that I'm going to go straight home, so there's no real effort in appearance. No sleek hair, no proper make-up and definitely no heels or cute outfit. I rocked up in slops and a sundress with my wash-and-go hair.
I walked straight into a media frenzy. Photographers and music industry members were all chilling out waiting for Paul E. Flynn to get up on stage to rock out. Oh well, fuck it, I'm gonna have a drink and leave. Immediately.
Ha! I got home at 1am this morning after drinking copious amounts of jaeger with Barney Simon and Cito from Wonderboom. Louise Carver (she's fabulous) sang a duet with Paul E. Flynn and they were amazing together! I felt bad when Louise sat down at our table and ordered a bottle of water. Dude. Talk about feeling ashamed as I swig back my Savannah Light.

I am feeling a little rough today and I missed boxing class. Ahem. Monday is a new day.
I don't actually know what I'm doing this weekend. I like it that way. Go with the flow and see what happens. I am hoping to sleep the weekend away but you just never know!

Hurling Heritage Day

Oh God! I sure made up for my bitching last night. If you didn't read the previous post, I was pretty miffed out with the fact that everyone was partying up a storm and I was in bed early for a half day of work the next day. Half day, whatever. Work is work. I like to think of it as: doing my bit for the economy.
;-)

Special K, Blondie 2 and I went for a girly lunch, instead of the braai today. Let me explain.
We were supposed to have a braai with the gang, but someone had to go and get pissed last night and is hanging like a donkey on steroids.
Dude. The man is so ill and instead of being mad, I find him adorable…he reverts to a cute 8 year old boy you just want to nurse. I will never tell him this. You know why.

So, I was all super psyched for potato salad, chicken kebabs and a boerewors roll; and that craving went straight out the window. It went out the window, when I heard the man hurl his stomach contents straight down the toilet. I know this sounds bizarre and gross, but he vomits weirdly. I know there is no “right” way to vomit and I am going to sound incredibly mean, because I should be concerned, but I find it hilarious. Seriously. He makes the funniest sounds. He sounds like a combination of a hyena laughing, coughing up a fur ball and well, the general “normal” up chuck sound.
Man, it is funny. Trust me. I would say you have to be there, but that’s really sadistic isn’t it?
Can you imagine? “Hi guys, come around… you know I was telling you about the man’s weird vomiting sounds, well, I thought you should experience it first hand, so let’s feed him revolting things to make it happen. Trust me; it’s going to be the best time ever. Ever!”

Anyway, I called up the gang to find out what the vibe was with having a braai. If everyone was still keen, well, sorry for vomit boy... but they all dropped like flies... all of them were hanging. Bunch of babies.
All of them, except my best girls*. Blondie 2 and Special K were still keen to do something. I left the man lying in bed curled into the foetal position, muttering the usual: “I’m never drinking again. No really. I mean it this time. Fuck I wanna die…shit, pass me the bucket…”
I asked if he wanted me to stay, but he kind of waved me off, muttering: “Kill me.” and “Have a good time!”

We met up for sushi and Cosmopolitans. Lunch with girls is never an hour or two.
6 hours later, sun setting, several Cosmo’s in and stomachs literally sore from laughing, we called it a day.
The bill showed that we had enjoyed 13 Cosmopolitans between the 3 of us. We paid the bill and it was only when we were in the car park that we suddenly realised that made no sense. How can 3 girls share 13 cosmos? They either didn’t charge us for an extra one (yeah right) or they over charged us by one (probably.)
My head is spinning and I’m feeling a little bad. What heritage did I celebrate today? I drank Cosmopolitans – for Johannesburg (work with me here) and I ate sushi for…um… well... I’m stumped.
I bought biltong on my way home. Does that count?
The man is still on the couch, watching Absolute Formula 1 and stuffing his face with biltong and Lay’s Salt and Vinegar crisps. It helps with the nausea. Apparently. He is still hanging. Insane.
It’s another early night for me. This time, I really don’t mind. Those Cosmo’s are dangerous. Deliciously dangerous.

* I sound like a pimp. Niiiice.

Bubbly and bald.

My leg hairs had protesting banners reading: "Don't harm the Rain Forest!" "Save the trees!" and others I couldn't quite make out.
My razor won.
I have lovely, silky hair-free legs...for the first time this season. Blogshell does love her extra warm coat in winter. I tried the Veet Hair Removal a while back... but that gave me a rash and didn't get rid of any hair.
The razor won once I saw the hairs on my legs looking longer than my mans. Dude!
The ring around the bath was really fabulous. Sexy!
I slapped some self "promises-not-to-go-orange" tan on my lily white, basically see-through legs and am hoping for the best!

I am also quite disturbed and rather upset at this.
This is a shallow moment alert.
I got home last night and desperately felt like a good glass of wine. It apparently got used up in cooking. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
I found a mini 187ml bottle of Champagne in the bar fridge and got seriously excited!
I cracked it open and enjoyed it's bubbliness. I am however, suffering from the mother of all hangovers. I woke up with a head that felt like it had been split in half.
I took my faithful Grandpa's and am only starting to feel better.
This is not the first time either. I don't think I can drink champagne. That pained me to type the last sentence!
Dude!
*Shallow moment over*

I am mad at...ME!

Why is it that we get 20 compliments and one negative comment, that one remark can cross out the 20 and make you feel like jumping off a building.
Just an arb little thing there...Love and hate fan mail. I truly piss myself off sometimes.

I have a hangover and not even a greasy Wimpy breakfast could act as my white surrender flag.
I also overslept and missed my boxing class, hence the greasy Wimpy breakfast. That made me feel even worse. All my agony and effort went down the drain in form of eggs, bacon and hashbrowns.
Annoyed with myself. I am mad that I drank last night (although I literally only had 4 drinks...no kidding...and I'm hungover...go figure!) and mad I missed boxed and mad I ate greasy food.

As a result of feeling oh-so-chipper and happier than Bill Gates on pay day, I am so over excited about entertaining tonight.
My dad and my man's mom is coming over for drinks tonight. My mom would join, but she's in bed with a really bad ear infection (well, it's worse than that, but I don't know the proper term.)
My idea of the perfect night would be to change into my pj's as soon as I get home, curl up in front of the TV, watch the Series channel's reality TV shows, make cups of hot chocolate and feel sorry for myself.
No such luck. He thought it would be a great idea for them to come around tonight. Great. I love seeing them, sure. Tonight? Not so much.
I now have to play hostess, be domesticated and the chances of me putting on my pj's before midnight is slim. I also have to entertain. I can't exactly sit there with a long face and mumble. Oh no. I will have to make conversation and the man and I will take turns in filling up glasses of wine, checking on food and making sure everyone is happy.
Yay for me.

I can't stop yawning either and it's really not helping me at work. *Yawn*
My head is pounding and I feel a little nauseous.

I'm having a bad day, can you tell?

Was I nearly kidnapped? And...if I'm not technically a kid, can I still call it that?

The weekend has been fairly boring, interesting, scary and good. Friday night I promised myself that I'd be a good girl, that I'd keep my name and that I would discover what not having a hangover on Saturday morning, felt like.
I stayed in, watched TV, ate the salti-crax (month end) and other tidbits I could find in my bare cupboard and chilled. God it was lovely.
Saturday morning was delightful. It was wonderful to wake up at an early hour and I met my twin for breakfast. Twin, because we're born on the same day and year but we're basically sisters from another mother* We think this fact is fabulous.
It was so awesome to catch up with her. We ate breakfats (literally... fried egg, fatty bacon, hashbrowns and to make me feel better, I had mushrooms and ate the grilled tomato)
I've noticed that the greasy breakfast does generally taste delicious and that you can enjoy it even when you're not dying from the night before.
Who knew?

I then decided to make my parents day and visit them. My parents are so wonderful and so weird at the same time. My mother is incredibly arty ( she is a real life artist) and my dad is an accountant (go figure - excuse the pun-haha)** My parents are re-doing their atrium and entrance. I have never seen my parents so excited to go to the nursery. They were giddy with excitement and showed off some arty pots my mom had found. My parents are officially getting old. It's the first sign. I told them so. Funny, they weren't impressed with me!

I decided to stay in**** on Saturday night (I know, shocker!) and was on my way home, when I scrounged up some change from my car to get a packet of smokes. I parked and started walking. This BMW X5 had driven up, but not parked. As I started walking, the car was slowly rolling forward and that's when I heard: "Excuse me? Can I talk to you?"
It was a man from the 4x4. I hesitated but said: "No, thanks...it's OK!"
Not quite sure what response that was, but I tell you, I got the weirdest and creepiest feeling in the pit of stomach. He rolled forward and by this stage he had leaned across, opened his passenger door and then opened his door. I quickened my pace, wondering why I had parked so far away (it wasn't far, but it felt like 10kms away at this stage.) "No thank you. It's fine! I don't want to talk!"
I said, my voice now screeching a little hysterically.
He called me over again, asking me to come round to the passenger door.
Oh sure. That sounds like a fine idea.
I ran. Bolted. I am thinking that maybe I could be a part of the Olympics athletics team.
I was so petrified and yet I felt conflicted. Maybe I was overreacting, but maybe I wasn't.
I don't think I was. What the hell was his passenger door open for and why was he so creepy?
When I had to walk back from the store, my heart was in my throat. I phoned my mom. My reasoning was:
a) they need know where I am.
b) they know that I'm worried and can call for help if anything happens to me if I'm snatched.
c) what car to look for
d) to make me feel better.

My mom had a close heart attack. She told me to stay in the Pick n Pay where there were people and that my dad would come and follow me home.
So I walked around the aisles, feeling twitchy and nervous and paranoid. I looked like a shoplifter and suddenly I was being stalked. By the store manager. He suddenly needed to rearrange the items in the aisle I happened to be in.
My dad (my hero) finally arrived and he followed me home, much to my relief and the relief of the manager.
I felt rather silly afterwards, but God give me female intuition and it would be wrong not to use it.

Creepy.

Today was spent chilling, watching TV in the comfort of my boyfriends arms, a warm blanket and hot chocolate. What a day!

* funny, doesn't rhyme as well as "brother from another mother!"
**I'm amusing myself at 02h36***, OK?
***I'm working.
**** Let me come clean...I'm too broke to do anything and Twin payed for breakfast on the pretense I'll get the next one (phew!)

I am so hungover

If I was a box today, I would read: Fragile. Handle with care.

I am soooo hungover I.want.to.die.
I think it would actually be less painful to chop my head.

Special K and I went out with one of Special K's friends...she's a model who lives in Greece. Oh yes. It was fabulous going out with 2 gorgeous girls. *Sigh*
We went to FTV, Sandton. It's really pretentious but I really had an excellent time with the company I was around. I can't remember the last time I danced. OK, that time in the shower and in my bedroom doesn't count.
I laughed and laughed and drank and drank and drank and drank.

I haven't been to a club for quite a while and I just loved dancing and people watching.

These are some of the things I noticed.

Men really do think they're God's gift to women. Especially when the alcohol starts to flow.
I had this one guy come up to me, he was from Israel.
"You arrr gorjusss! Verrry prrretty. Let me smell your neck."
Before I even knew what was going on, he had his nostrils against my neck.
"Ah, you are even morrre prrretty than I imagined."
"You are not from this country, yes?"
*Evil grin*
"No, I from Rrrrussia!" in my best Russian accent.
"Ah, Russia! Gorjuss!"
"My name, Vickoria. Hokay, I go now."
"How old arrr you?" the greasy dude asks.
"How old Viktoria look?"
"21."
Woohoo.
"Hokay. I go get vodka."
And I left.
Bad idea. He kept sending vodka shots over. I have no idea how he kept finding me because I kept moving around.

Towards the end of the evening/early morning, last rounds were called and there was this desperation that suddenly entered mens eyes. It was classic and it was blatant.
"Oh shit. Times running out and I haven't scored yet."
All of a sudden, men just looked like hungry wolves except their eyes weren't sharp, they were glazed and they staggered, instead of pouncing.
One word. Disgusting.

I have also noticed that the girls are getting younger and the skirts are getting shorter.*

I have also noticed that I put a bitch face on. I didn't know I had bitch face. I become defensive in pretentious places because I can see the catty rich bitches doing the "up-and-down" look and so I put my chin in the air and put a bitch face on.
It got me thinking. I look just like one of those pretentious girls. Perhaps we all feel we're being judged and so we all have bitchy faces. Maybe if we relaxed a little and didn't actually give a shit, maybe there wouldn't be any airs and graces.**
I say the judging thing because we're girls and at some stage we have judged. No sense in denying it.
I also noticed this beautiful girl and how confident and gorgeous she looked. I loved her boots too.
She saw me looking and automatically scowled at me.
I was shocked but it all made sense. She doesn't know I'm not looking her up and down, judging. And as girls, we automatically assume the worst.***

I have also noticed that I cannot drink as much as I used to. God knows I drank like a binge-drinking 18 year old and God knows I am suffering for it today.

My man is away at Sun City for the Positive Rocks concert...he's filming there. He is also hanging out with the bands and Kelly Rowland. Seriously.
Hate him. :-)

So.... I am getting in as much girl time as possible. Tonight, Blondie 2 is coming over for a Slumber Party. When was the last time you did this?
We've had a good time teasing the men at work with this: "So, B2 have you got your underwear and stilettos ready for tonight?"
"Yup! I've also got feather pillows ready."
"Awesome. It's going to be a regular girls night out in...you know, hanging out in our underwear and stiletto's, eating chocolate and having pillow fights!"

Oh and the other thing I've noticed? Men are so predictable.

Have a great weekend.

*Am I getting older and more prudish?
** And...maybe not.
*** Why is that? Is Dr. Phil around?

I know I'm getting older when

my weekends are filled up with weddings, baby showers, bachelorettes, baby's birthday parties and the shopping for them.
There's no more: "What are we doing this weekend?" "Which nite club should we grace with our presence?" "What are we going to wear tonight? Oh, why don't we go shopping for new outfits!"
The hangovers are still there, but they're mild. It's not like you can get wrecked, dance on the tables and throw up in your mates pot plant... at her baby shower. It's just not done. Apparently.

I miss the days where I could lie in for hours, run around the house in my pj's or underwear the whole day, moan and groan about how I want to die from the mother of all hangovers, stuff my face with junk food, watch DSTV or better yet watch bucket loads of DVD's and not move off the couch unless I really really had to... bathroom breaks were debatable. I could tie my hair up, put on my weekend clothes (as comfy as possible, if they match, bonus) and head out to my folks or to friends for breakfast/lunch. I miss sitting on my balcony with my big sunglasses, opening up a bottle of wine, crackers and brie cheese at 10am.
Ah, the good times.

Ok, honestly, I still get to do a lot of those things, but not as often as I'd like to. I'm happy to be going to baby showers and weddings, don't get me wrong, but it's just weird to think that life has now become about those things and weirder, yet...they're happening to my closest mates! WEIRD!!