Body Odour

It's called deodorant. I'm just saying. Good God! There is nothing worse then the weather getting warmer and people's B.O. getting stronger.
For 3 hours today I kept sitting next to people who had the worst B.O. EVER.
I couldn't take it. Eventually I walked outside to get some fresh air. Literally.
It was me. Oh the fucking horror. What the hell? I still couldn't get it out of my nostrils and took deep breaths originally to clear the nasal passages and just smelt the waft of B.O constantly.
The shock and realisation of it being me was awful. B..bu..but, I put deo on this morning.
I did. I know I did. WTF??
How embarrassing! If I was sitting closely to people and thinking it was them the whole time, and it was me...they must have been dying. Oh the horror.
Of course. I changed handbags this morning and didn't transfer my deodorant either, so now I have to (mortifyingly) go and ask the very people I've been stinking out for the past 3 hours, if they have deo.
Cringe.
I now smell lovely and floral. Just for the record.
I'm still blushing though.

A mate of mine has organised us tickets for Joburg Day. It's a concert that 94.7 (a radio station) puts on every Spring. I'm quite excited!
I went last year and I loved it!!

Not sure what I'm doing tonight? Have 4 propositions. What can I say? Miss Popular is busy while the man's away! JUST KIDDING!!!!

Have a great weekend and can't wait for the weekend. Honestly.

As red as....

I am blushing. I am bright red. Crimson red, Ferrari red, Fire Engine red. As red as a lobster, a tomatoe and a pom who's spent 5 minutes in the sun.
You get the point.

Murphy's Law struck again. I, of course, have to learn things the hard way! Dear Lord! Let me start at the beginning.

I went onto the TV set this morning and was instantly ushered to the make-up and hair room. I do not know why make up artists insist on putting dark, brown shades of lipstick on me. I understand our make-up has to look darker for it to stand out, but brown lipstick? No!
The worst thing is if you mention this, ever so honestly and nicely, you end up sounding like a diva bitch, anyway. It's really not the case but please. Stop putting me in brown. I don't like it.
Anyways, I then had to make my way to the set where the sound guy attached the microphone to my top. That is always awkward. The small mic basically needs to sit just above your breasts, preferably in cleavage.
I put the cable underneath my top and the monitor on the back of my pants, but that was when the dude had to adjust it near the twins. It's um...bonding!
We did the first part of the shoot and it was awesome. I had so much fun. We took a break so that the camera's could change batteries and tape etc.

I obviously, go to the loo. I brush my hair, hum (out of tune) a little, cough, blow my nose - I sound like an elephant having sex with a foghorn, get my make-up I've just rubbed off re-applied and walk back onto set. 5 guys are killing themselves laughing.
I think nothing of it, and move off to do some skinnering with Special K.
Our conversation is as follows:
B:"How do you think it's going?"
K:"I think we're doing well, but I'm a little irritated with how my make-ups been done.
B: "Me tooo!! I don't get it...why do they put brown lipstick on me? Argh!"
K: "No babe, you look great...look at my cheeks..."
At this stage, I felt the blood drain out of my face and then race back into the reddest of red blushes.
I looked in horror at Special K, pointed at her chest and mouthed: "Our mics are on!"

Fuck!

There is just no getting out of that. We are bitching and we are busted.
We then make things worse (trying to make things better) by then saying (not obviously...nooo!!)
K: But, I mean... I guess, we're just, um, being mean! I could never do my make-up this nicely!"
I'm now dying at how this is just getting worse, but panicking because I need to say something so I say: "You look amazing! We should get lessons from this woman."

Oh. My. God! How false could that be? And the "False Award goes to....*drum roll* The Blonde Blogshell!"

Kill.me.now.

We walk in, sheepishly, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone. I suddenly realise that the camera's aren't filming and that not one of the sound guys, directors or anyone else has a pair of headphones on.
Does this mean we're in the clear? Did no one hear us?
Say it IS so!

I couldn't take it anymore, so I asked and held my breath waiting for the dreaded answer.
"We heard your bathroom antics, your bad humming and your coughing and spluttering!" He was clearly amused by this.
"So...you didn't hear anything else?"
"No, why? Were you gossiping?"
"No..." Paranoia sets in, "Why? Why would we be gossiping? Why would you ask that?"
"We've caught a lot of people out like that, but we were all doing things, so no one had the headphones on."
I let out a thankful sigh of relief that no one had heard our bitching, but they heard me pee and they heard my nose blowing that could scare small children.

I am still blushing and I've learnt the biggest lesson ever. Switch your mic off!!

PS> It's the Sex And The City movie premier tonight! I'm taking my little sister with me...Good Times!