Okay - going to summarise the last few days in a blog post cos there were some eventful happenings that I wish to share with you lovely people.
Firstly it was the Married Ones 7 year anniversary. 7 years since they first got together. The Man Married One was hard at work so I went over to keep the Lady Married One company. We moaned abit about work - and then the Man Married One came home and told me what he told his wife earlier in the day.
It went something like this - 'I dont want to put a time frame on how long we have been together. We are soulmates and were destined to be together for an eternity. The energy that we share will transcend this life - and putting a time on how long we have been together dilutes the power and meaning of our love.'
Cute hey! I almost cried. I think its so sweet when someone expresses their feelings in a profound and pure way. I of course started thinking how much I want someone to feel that way about me. Anyhoo - we all went to a friends birthday that night - and two nights later (as in last night) it was mines!
I had an awesome day away from work - and was surrounded by really cool wonderful people. Several bottles were present. Including one that was on fire. The hangover has set in - but I shall recover for tea at the Westcliffe! I am currently stuffing my face with pancakes to feel better.
Needless to say another year older - a teeensy bit wiser. A new country. A new car. A new start. With no old loves. I really hope this is the year that things change for me. That I have the courage to come clean with my parents (a little side note - the progress I have made with everyone else in my life is something I am proud of). But still. I have been putting off telling them for months now.
Ive always been told how I have changed peoples lives. Im not trying to sound like an arrogant ass here - but countless people have told me that I have come in to their lives and altered their worlds. They think I am awesome. They really do. And this year I want to believe it too. And maybe, just maybe, someone will think that I am awesome enough to be with forever.
Friday 16 April 2010
Monday 12 April 2010
Jaded in Johannesburg
So a partner in crime was down from London this weekend past, which led to eleven too many tequila shots. Being blotto on the dancefloor led to some of the most interesting shapes being cut, but it was all fun.
Needless to say Saturday called for a greasy breakfast. Feeling adventurous, a group of us decided to try out Tashas in Morningside. Unlike Mickey D's where we usually start our day (and loving it) we were asked to get a number and wait in line. Being a party of 5, we had plenty to talk about so none of us really minded, hangovers included. Fifteen minutes into it though, the grumpiness from the heat and hunger resulted in some of us getting slightly tempremental. At the moment when I had plucked up enough courage to spew a myriad of filthy expletives at the manager, we were escorted to a rather primely positioned table. Of course we dont have mountains or breezy coastal views in JHB, so lucious locations are restricted to a corner table with both sunlight and shade, and overlooking the parking lot.
Happy that my order of huevos rancheros was in, I scoped the room and was shocked at what I saw. A collection of Sandtons most beautiful men, seductively sipping on skinny cappucinos to keep up with their skinny bitch image (let me just clarify here - a skinny bitch is a confused bitch - its a disease - yes - this coming from the person who refuses to add any salt or sugar to food - sad - i know)....
Anyhoo. There was one guy in particular who I could not take my eyes off. It was like he belonged in a photo shoot and I half expected his crew to leap out from behind the fake plants and touch up his hair. He was single, and clearly gay, but at a table of equally beautiful man. It was the Edward Cullen Canteen table. Feeling incredibly hungover and schloompfy I could only manage oogling him from behind my obnoxiously gigantic Prada.
Completely ignoring my group and sporadically interjecting with a 'Ja, Uhm Hmm. What back door delivery?' I was fascinated by something else. The cars. Aston Martins, Ferraris, Porsches. It was like the set of Top Gear. What really bugged me about the whole day though, was that these people were complete show offs! It was all about their flashy designer gear and even flashier auto mobiles. I knew this was the case when the Lexus started driving parallel to the restaurant and almost ran my chair over. I mean - seriously. How Jaded are these people?! Its so easy to get caught up in this shallow meaningless existance that this city seems to promote. I know some of you are thinking I too have fallen prey by buying the most ridiculous eyewear - not to mention Cooper Cullen, but its entirely different. CC was always my dream. No matter what fashion trends came and went, anyone who has ever known me has known that I have always wanted a mini - and I made that dream a reality for me - no one else - and certainly not so that I could do more laps around the parking lot then Schumacher does in a grand Prix. And the sunnies - again something I do totally for my benefit - noone elses.
I know you are probably thinking these people are entitled to show off their wealth - and sure they are - but dont drive over my chair when I am sipping my skinny cappucino to do so!
Needless to say Saturday called for a greasy breakfast. Feeling adventurous, a group of us decided to try out Tashas in Morningside. Unlike Mickey D's where we usually start our day (and loving it) we were asked to get a number and wait in line. Being a party of 5, we had plenty to talk about so none of us really minded, hangovers included. Fifteen minutes into it though, the grumpiness from the heat and hunger resulted in some of us getting slightly tempremental. At the moment when I had plucked up enough courage to spew a myriad of filthy expletives at the manager, we were escorted to a rather primely positioned table. Of course we dont have mountains or breezy coastal views in JHB, so lucious locations are restricted to a corner table with both sunlight and shade, and overlooking the parking lot.
Happy that my order of huevos rancheros was in, I scoped the room and was shocked at what I saw. A collection of Sandtons most beautiful men, seductively sipping on skinny cappucinos to keep up with their skinny bitch image (let me just clarify here - a skinny bitch is a confused bitch - its a disease - yes - this coming from the person who refuses to add any salt or sugar to food - sad - i know)....
Anyhoo. There was one guy in particular who I could not take my eyes off. It was like he belonged in a photo shoot and I half expected his crew to leap out from behind the fake plants and touch up his hair. He was single, and clearly gay, but at a table of equally beautiful man. It was the Edward Cullen Canteen table. Feeling incredibly hungover and schloompfy I could only manage oogling him from behind my obnoxiously gigantic Prada.
Completely ignoring my group and sporadically interjecting with a 'Ja, Uhm Hmm. What back door delivery?' I was fascinated by something else. The cars. Aston Martins, Ferraris, Porsches. It was like the set of Top Gear. What really bugged me about the whole day though, was that these people were complete show offs! It was all about their flashy designer gear and even flashier auto mobiles. I knew this was the case when the Lexus started driving parallel to the restaurant and almost ran my chair over. I mean - seriously. How Jaded are these people?! Its so easy to get caught up in this shallow meaningless existance that this city seems to promote. I know some of you are thinking I too have fallen prey by buying the most ridiculous eyewear - not to mention Cooper Cullen, but its entirely different. CC was always my dream. No matter what fashion trends came and went, anyone who has ever known me has known that I have always wanted a mini - and I made that dream a reality for me - no one else - and certainly not so that I could do more laps around the parking lot then Schumacher does in a grand Prix. And the sunnies - again something I do totally for my benefit - noone elses.
I know you are probably thinking these people are entitled to show off their wealth - and sure they are - but dont drive over my chair when I am sipping my skinny cappucino to do so!
Wednesday 7 April 2010
21sts were meant only for 21 year olds.
After the dreaded wedding was done and dusted, I naturally assumed the forced family festivities would be too. How wrong I was. My dancing shoes barely had time to breathe before I had to pop myself back into something appropriate and by extension uncomfortable, and head to a 21st.
Now most people would assume that a 21st would be a fun way to spend an evening. These people have not been to a 21st hosted by the guest of honours obnoxious indian grandmother. Firstly it was due to start at 11am. Yes thats right, 11am. Having already decided that any time after breakfast is a socially acceptable hour to begin a days debauchery, I wolfed down my cornflakes. After lining my stomach for what I assumed would be an endless parade of canopes and cocktails, I headed to what can only be decribed as an abandoned whore house to where the party was scheduled to be held.
Upon entering I knew that I was in for a long afternoon. Instead of thin young fabulous people I was stared down by a bunch of old sari wearing aunties, and their unequivocally bored hubbies. After scoping out the open bar (that was completely desserted as everyone was too self concious to have a drink in front of their elders), I slowly started towards it, tumbleweeds blowing behind me. I could have sworn I heard someone gasp when I politely mouthed 'g-i-n-a-n-d-t-o-n-i-c' to the confused barman.
I was ushered by the 21ster to the '21 table' where 8 of her friends were, as I was not quite young enough to sit with the 6 year olds and not quite old enough for the 60 year olds. I sat at the table catching snippets of the most meaningless converstaional debate I have ever heard in my life. Words like Justin Bieber','hot','cute','slore','matinee' and 'jersey shore' were thrown around. Feeling like the dirty old pervert who sits at the back of the bar talking to himself, I found myself positioned next to a real fashionista. Dressed top to toe in the latest designer gear, she eyed me out cautiously.
RF : Uhm....Hi. Im Real Fashionista.
Me: Im Closer to 30 than I am to 20.
RF: Are you ok? You seem to be shaking.
Me: Its a side effect of old age. Dont you want to get me another drink.
RF: Uhm can i have a sip?
ME: Hell no. I will smack you right here if I ever see you drinking. OH GOD - Ive turned into my mother!
RF: Uhm....Im going to go over there.
Having successfully cleared the table, I secretly sank my final drink and stumbled out of the dark room into the light, and amazingly enough, it reminded me of being 21.
Now most people would assume that a 21st would be a fun way to spend an evening. These people have not been to a 21st hosted by the guest of honours obnoxious indian grandmother. Firstly it was due to start at 11am. Yes thats right, 11am. Having already decided that any time after breakfast is a socially acceptable hour to begin a days debauchery, I wolfed down my cornflakes. After lining my stomach for what I assumed would be an endless parade of canopes and cocktails, I headed to what can only be decribed as an abandoned whore house to where the party was scheduled to be held.
Upon entering I knew that I was in for a long afternoon. Instead of thin young fabulous people I was stared down by a bunch of old sari wearing aunties, and their unequivocally bored hubbies. After scoping out the open bar (that was completely desserted as everyone was too self concious to have a drink in front of their elders), I slowly started towards it, tumbleweeds blowing behind me. I could have sworn I heard someone gasp when I politely mouthed 'g-i-n-a-n-d-t-o-n-i-c' to the confused barman.
I was ushered by the 21ster to the '21 table' where 8 of her friends were, as I was not quite young enough to sit with the 6 year olds and not quite old enough for the 60 year olds. I sat at the table catching snippets of the most meaningless converstaional debate I have ever heard in my life. Words like Justin Bieber','hot','cute','slore','matinee' and 'jersey shore' were thrown around. Feeling like the dirty old pervert who sits at the back of the bar talking to himself, I found myself positioned next to a real fashionista. Dressed top to toe in the latest designer gear, she eyed me out cautiously.
RF : Uhm....Hi. Im Real Fashionista.
Me: Im Closer to 30 than I am to 20.
RF: Are you ok? You seem to be shaking.
Me: Its a side effect of old age. Dont you want to get me another drink.
RF: Uhm can i have a sip?
ME: Hell no. I will smack you right here if I ever see you drinking. OH GOD - Ive turned into my mother!
RF: Uhm....Im going to go over there.
Having successfully cleared the table, I secretly sank my final drink and stumbled out of the dark room into the light, and amazingly enough, it reminded me of being 21.
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