Keeping it wheel...

After a delicious steak dinner at the V&A's Den Anker last night, we went on Cape Town's Wheel of Excellence! I was having a fab, laid-back time giggling at Lovely Boyfriend (who out of nowhere admitted to mild vertigo – even though this has never come into play on the ski lifts – and he began to produce a small but very prominant SULA (Sweat upper Lip Alert)), when the big, ugly manager man in the box (cool job... not) signalled for me to take my feet off the chair. Well that ruined it for me. I was no longer comfortable and felt like I was under surveillance. I noticed there was a VIP gondola dangling in front of us. For R1000! What the hell is in that thing? Bottomless Champagne, jacuzzi, buffet and butler? There better be, because anyone who is willing to fork out that much (as opposed to the standard R80 per adult for 4 rounds) should be given at least 3 days on that thing with only the best treatment. Anyway, it was fun. A bit romantic. Glad I can say I've done it.

My very very rich godfather (a big thank you to my parents) from the UK is in Cape Town. And wants to take me out for dinner. I realised the true greatness of this when he asked me to pick a 'good' restaurant with a seaview. Of course, I must live up to the exceptional standards that he is used to, so I spent a good two thirds of my morning looking up the best and most expensive restaurants in Cape Town. I have settled on The Roundhouse as have always wanted to go but, with my finances, would probably only be able to afford a palate cleanser. Very much looking forward to it.

Have signed for my new flat and am going for a romantic night away this weekend. And tonight am hanging out with friends with chinese food and movies after a good tap class. Life couldn't be better really. Unless someone maybe delivered a freezocino to my desk...

Creating your own happiness

While I have a brief gap in my work load I'll get to a little posting. I have simply fabulous news!... Wait for it... I found a flat!!! %$#@$%^&*(*&^%$#$%^&*()(&&%$@!!! Am ecstatic with my remarkable find and, as sad as I am to leave my wonderful home on the sea, am itching to have my own little space that I can decorate and arrange as I like. It's so pretty! And cute! And just by signing the lease (which I am only doing tomorrow... Pray nothing goes wrong) I already feeling like I've crossed that significant boundary into adulthood! Goodbye the me who refuses to take out the rubbish and who sometimes doesn't wash the dishes for days, or the me who sometimes can't be asked to make her bed, or leaves Hunters Dry bottles lying around, and old mugs of tea. I am going to become a real domesticated woman – I'm going to buy flowers, put up paintings and actually fill my fridge! I can snuggle on my little couch in front of my little TV or listen to my little hi-fi and cook myself a little bowl of spag bog (I make the best in the world) and sit at my little table overlooking Greenpoint and the stadium and the gorgeous ocean. Excitement! 

But that's only in May. So to kill time am currently organising a house-cooling party... There's not much to it, just girls and champagne. What more do we really need in life? :)

Thank GOODNESS it's Friday!

I'm more thankful that it's Friday today than I have ever been in my whole entire life. I would've given up my car, my home, my hair, my fingernails... anything since Tuesday for it to have been Friday. I tried to watch Disney movies (and sung along to Ariel's 'Part of that World'), I went for drinks, I went to dancing, I got my hair done. Nothing made Friday come quicker. Nothing made the time go faster. You know those painful, neverending, torturous weeks where everything has gone wrong... Everything. Well times that by 80 thousand million gazillion and you're right on target. 

It's friday... IT'S FRIDAY! Thank the Arch Bishop and the Pope and the Rabbi that it's Friday. I actually want to send God a bottle of wine or a quiche or a barbershop quartet to thank him for bringing Friday at last. 

Now I'm just counting down the hours so I can go home and open up cold Hunters Dry and then join my amazing, amazing friends for some deliciousness of chilli poppers and many more Hunters Dry at Neighbourhood on Long Street. I will be watching England play Sri Lanka tomorrow and the Stormers play Force in the evening but that is the extent of my weekend's activities. After contemplating the 2OceansVibe party I decided against forking out200 bucks to stand around on the beach and still have to pay a fortune for drinks and food. Not much of an odyssey of a weekend then, but I just need a timeout. I also need a freezocino. Catch me at Caturra.

Under my umbrella...

I'm alive! No one worry. I'm safely back in Cape Town. No bricks through windows, no driveway highjackings, no streetside muggings. I made it through unscathed. But, unfortuantely I brought back the shitty weather that I endured all weekend in the City of Gold. But hey, my new pink winter beanie is more than fashionable, and is the snuggest, most awesome thing I've ever thrown away cash on. So am sporting it everywhere I go to bring some colour and happiness to this ghastly mood-dampening meteorology.

 This week is great because I have nothing in store, which means a little 'me' time – everyone needs that now and again, right? Plus it's the end of the month so am hanging by a short frayed thread until payday Friday. So a few tins of sweetcorn and some TV nights in should do the trick. Maybe a bottle of Champagne or three. 

There's always a great, heart-warming feeling when you've been at home with family for the weekend. Firstly, it's great leaving at the end of it – you always appreciate your independence more than when you arrived! (This was particularly relevant to me this weekend when we were leaving to go out for Sunday lunch and my Mother decided I could not and would not, even if my life depended on it, leave the house in the 'dreadful' sweater I was wearing. Apparently it was grubby and stretched (er, totally stylish). I, naturally, threw a tantrum, but when I realised I was holding everyone up I was forced to go upstairs and change. Much to my boiling annoyance.) 

But secondly – that feeling of being loved and cared for and having that closeness with people who would do anything in the world for you is comforting and reassuring. It means a weekend of letting go, feeling secure, and being looked after. Everyone should be allowed this once in a while. It's important to recognise and cherish the love that's available to you.

 Before I go all sentimental on you (vom), I'm going to go get my muesli as, in my utter excitement of landing back in the Mother City last night, I totally forgot to get me some grub and my tums has been growling angrily at me all morning. Cheers!

Long weekend!

It's fabulous Friday! After a shaky start this morning (dinner at the amazing, quaint little Italian Il Leone, accompanied by a bottle of bubbly of course), my freezo sorted out any sign of a hangover and I arrived at work ready to take on the day. Until I glanced at the clock on my screen and realised it was only 9:30 – I feel like I've been here for at least three hours already and was starting to look forward to lunch! Not ideal. I'm thanking my lucky stars that after all the pleading, persuasion and drop-lip I pulled last night after dinner, lovely boyfriend still didn't give in to taking me for a 'quick dance and a drink' somewhere. I was almost pathetically desperate to hit the town – must've been a combination of the heels, the veal, the champagne and the 8th of Italian in me. But I wouldn't have felt too sparkly this morning. But I think it was because I'm heading home tonight (Jo'burg) and I know it's going to be a rather family-orientated weekend, whereas lovely boyfriend is going to be back here with all his best school mates (who are down for the long weekend) painting the town all sorts of colours without his handbreak (that would be me) tagging along. Oh well, if all else fails I shall find somewhere cool to go for the rugby tomorrow night (with my father since he is the only one in my family who cares about rugby in my family) so I can have my routine Hunters Dry wand watch the Stormers annihilate the Bulls – this will have to qualify as my fair share of 'fun' for the weekend.

I had good news this week: I am finally allowed to do what I absolutely love and that is writing restaurant reviews for my magazine's blog. (This means free beverages! Oh.. and meals, of course.) I might also do bar and hotel reviews, and some show reviews considering I have pretty much taken up residence at Artscape since I moved to Cape Town. I also do online book reviews (alert the media!). I would love to post the link for you (of my recent restaurant review) but maybe I shouldn't associate my gorgeous glossy women's fashion and beauty mag with a Champagne-downing, rib-scoffing frequently-hungover rugger bugger with a lifelong dream of being on the stage or in front of a camera. The other day I had to look up what a gilet was. And I don't even use an exfoliator.

Been the insatiable dancing diva I am, I flung myself, far too overenthusiastically, straight into modern dance on Tuesday (having not done it since last year November) and attemped to push myself into the splits after two hours of intense exam work. I am so stiff, even three days later, that I can barely sit down or stand up elt alone walk, and had to ring my flatmate this morning to ask her to pull me out of bed. And dress me...

 This does not bode well for me since I'm signed up for an advanced contemporary class tomorrow morning. Could be interesting.

Have a great weekend. Joburg awaits me. Oh and - ENGLAND WON THE CRICKET!

Home Sweet Homeward Bound

So I'm off home to Jo'burg this long weekend. Aside from the fact that I am sh–t scared of that place – I tend to drive round in utter fear, expecting someone to bust through my window with a brick at every traffic light – I am really looking forward to being home and having a much-needed reprieve from gorgeously sunny but dizzyingly active Cape Town. I have a brilliant big homely home in Houghton, an awesome boxer and an even more awesome family. Of course, being the tres efficient person I am, I have already organised some dance classes to go to at Dance Junxion and planned a few lunches and drinks with friends (checking out The Attic in Parkhurst on Sunday eve) – my mother is not at all pleased with my numerous, fixed plans and keeps reiterating that she was flying me home merely for 'family time' and not to meet up with every person I've ever known. My step dad has, as usual, stocked the fridge with Hunters Dry – a sweet little gesture he does every time. And Mum buys Woolies muesli rusks, mint tea and fills the fridge with avos, hummus and sweet chilli sauce – key additions to my every meal. Now all I need is a haircut, maybe a few new items of clothing and perhaps a few expensive toilettries. Will see what I can wangle...

Had an absolutely stunning weekend and got to watch lovely lovely boyfriend complete (in excellent timing) the Argus. You may have spotted me: I was the hungover, screeching lunatic at the finish line wearing my thick-rimmed purple reading glasses (was really worried I might miss him since I have the eyesight of a fruitbat. But it was either that or a squinting idiot), waving frantically at him, beaming with pride, as he passed by looking more attractive than ever in his flourescent yellow, sweat-filled Rawsons kit. We then proceeded (take note: on a Sunday) to drink solidly in celebration for the next four hours at Doppio Zero. Was such a great vibe, swarming with prawns, vibrant outfits, overjoyed faces and plenty of Hunters Dry (my one true weakness). Needless to say my Sunday ended earlier than usual...

My lack of posts over the last two weeks is a result of me having an abnormal amount of work. Hopefully I'll be posting more regularly over the next few days. Until then!

Back in the game!

I'm back! Sorry I've been AWOL. On Monday I was still feeling the after-effects of Saturday's highly eventful and out-of-control cruise and hotel night. I think it's safe to say I worked my way through at least five bottles of Champagne (to myself) over the course of the day – from 11am until about midnight. I have a distant memory of lying on a flourescent pink lilo, gripping a flute of rose bubbly, and attempting to sing along to a tune that actually didn't have any words, wearing a sailor's hat and a mismatched bikini.

Even after an entire day embedded in the sofa, I still felt like I was suffering from a life-threatening, incurable third-world virus on Sunday evening and lay motionless and mute next to lovely boyfriend as we tried to keep down some ribs. 

So Monday morning I arrived at work pallid and forlorn, feeling as if I hadn't slept since last year November, and had run a half marathon a few hours before. Tuesday, I got philosophical and decided that I wasn't quite satisfied with life – after effects of the alcohol? I don't know – and wanted more out of it, so I began signing up to agencies so I can have my turn in the limelight, which I have decided is long overdue. Wednesday I started to feel human again but still felt like I had no purpose in life. Saturn return? Again, I don't know.

Today I arrived feeling sprightly. Have worked hard and am ready for a drink this evening. The verdict?: I'm getting old. It officially takes me three days to get over a big night. How did I do it  consecutively back in the day? What did I have then that I don't now?

Looking forward to the watching the Stormers thrash the Highlanders tomorrow, and then a relaxing day on Sunday while all the delusional people in Cape Town wake up at 5am, get on a private-part-torturing bike for a stupid number of kilometres and ride till their legs cramp or just fall off. Me, I'll be by the pool with a freezocino :)

Over and out.

Forkin' great

I went to Fork on Long Street last night for dinner. I'm still dreaming about the tiny golden fried balls of goat's cheese euphoria that were served to me on little sundried tomato crackers with an onion marmalade. Orgasmic to say the least. Before I realised it, I was hugging the waiter and thanking him for changing my life. They're not so attractive to eat however, since biting into the delicacy means melted goat's cheese oozes out the sides of your mouth. But it's okay - lovely boyfriend is sick and has stuff oozing out of his nose. So he was unable to pass judgement.

So I got my nautical-themed dress at the ready, have undergone the various necessary waxing procedures/torture, and am ready to bubbly and bikini it up for a cruisin' afternoon in the jacuzzi, the wind flowing through my mouse-coloured tresses. If I don't have a cold by tomorrow I'll be gobsmacked since I've spent all week in close proximity to sickly boyfriend (although I insisted he remain at arm's lenght), plus I spotted one or two eskimos tottering around my office earlier this week. Despite the searing heat outside, arctic temperatures in here mean I'm frost-bound to my keyboard and drinking tea for Africa. But I seem to be the only one who can feel it...?

So afraid of getting sick that I actually ran away from my flatmate this morning when she sneezed. She wasn't impressed.

From cramp and carbs to cocktails, cruises and champers...

First thing I was asked this morning when I limped into the office was why I was walking like a constipated elderly. I chose to ignore the invasion and proceeded to my desk, where I popped a couple of Mypaids to ease the muscular constriction! I got a terrible fright when my phone rang this morning at 7am, and my sudden movement (in response to the alarming cacophonous Chris Daughtry ringtone) caused my overworked calves to seize up and go into an unbearable cramp. Good GOD it was sheer agony! I lay wincing with pain for a good 30 seconds until they had released and relaxed. The good thing is I can really feel the hard work I did last night – was a pretty challenging class. Anyone interested in ballet, pop into a trial class at the Cape Ballet Centre. It's not a walk in the park. It's hell in a studio. But really great!

So I have been on a health binge this week. Unfortunately I have had to force myself (with great difficulty) to give up freezocinos because not only were they costing me about a 12th of my salary per month, but they are also not great for my skin or weight, or blood sugar. Health streak going well – four day's clean (of freezos), daily exercise, lemon water in the mornings (apparenty it cleanses the body, clears the skin and boost metabolism), lots of water, veges, fruit, and only morning carbs. I am already seeing results. Unfortunately I shall be dismantling all my hard work this Saturday, starting from 11.30am. My friend's 30th birthday weekend will be going something like this:

We arrive at the Ambassador Hotel in Bantry Bay (Cape Town) at 10.30am (might try squeeze in  early-morn gym sesh to reduce guilt) only to be put on a shuttle to the Waterfront where we will board the Nautilus Luxury Yacht for a 3-hour cruise complete with free Champagne, food platters and an onboard jacuzzi. We then disembark and return to the Ambassador for a Peroni party by the pool where there is free food, a free cocktail and (obviously) a free Peroni. I might have to trade this Peroni with my boyfriend for a bottle of Champagne. I'm sure he won't mind. That evening we dress up and attend a formal cocktail party at the Salt Vodka Bar where there is, once again, free bubbly, and platters of delicious eats. We then spend the night at the hotel and wake up to a mouth-watering hotel buffet spread the next morning.

I don't think I've ever been this excited. A little nervous too since, in hindsight, we are basically drinking and eating consistently from 11:30 in the morning... Bubbles, gourmet cuisine, jacuzzi, hotel suites... 

Health streak, what health streak?!

If I actually make it into my cocktail dress, let alone get to the cocktail party, I'll be pretty nothing short of impressed. Might even have to toast to it.

To the pointe...

I am going to an intermediate ballet class this evening. Considering I haven't dug my ballet shoes out from the deep, dark depths of my cupboard since second-year uni (er, that would be five years ago), this could be mildly entertaining. (If I know anyone in the class, I'm leaving.) But am determined to get back into it and be the supple, leggy, wiry, sinewy-calved yet delicate creature I was in my school days! So, apres work I shall be pas de chat-ing round the makeshift studio up the road. And in this muggy, humid heat I'm not looking forward to the imminent sweat patches across my leotard. Further more, my quads are already suffering from strain as a result of extreme over-exertion in yesterday's jazz class after mastering a jazz kick and a double pirouette. But I've committed and I'm going. Plus it will take my mind of the fact that I still haven't heard back from Fiddler on the Roof...

I was going to disclose this coming weekend's riveting endeavors but I then ran out of time due to piles of articles to sub, and so you will have to hang on a little longer.

All that jazz...

I've only just got around to today's post this second since, apart from working extremely hard of course, I have been frantically searching for a new car-insurance company – anything has to be lower than what I'm paying at the moment! It seems all the odds are against me since I own a black car, have had a minor collision, and am only 25. 

I am also refreshing Gumtree every 15 seconds in hope of finding a totally pimpin' bachelor pad on the Atlantic Seaboard (I have a mild obsession with the ocean, it makes me happy). Considering my rent budget, the word "pimpin'" may not be appropriate here. I will probably have to go with 'crusty' and 'decrepit'. But, suprisingly, some interesting options are popping up and I may end up in a totally decent shoebox, with perhaps a small woodern chair, a futon and a mini bar fridge! As long as I have offstreet parking or I'll have to sell my laptop to pay for the increase in car insurance...

I am off to a jazz dance class tonight to get my razzle dazzle on. At least if I don't get the part I still have a safe space to release my inner theatrical expertise! I also desperately need to tone my bottom before this weekend. – You are going to have to wait till the next post to find out what extraordinarily thrilling adventures I am embarking on this weekend at my friend's 30th. Let your imaginations run wild – and don't rule out hotels, cruises, spa treatments and cocktail parties...