Do a little dance...

I think, I think, I'm still hungover… From Friday!

Got home from work early friday afternoon, weather-beaten (office aircon in 14-degree weather) and decrepit. Lay down on my palatial trundle, engulfed myself in duck-down duvet and disappeared into dream world for a good hour before receiving an overzealous, ear-piercing phonecall from tipsy friend (post-Friday work drinks). "Get your ass out of bed, we are meeting at Hudsons in an hour to drink!"

Christ! Leapt out of beddy-byes, legs shaking violently from torturous afternoon knee rehab, and jumped in shower. Within an hour was dressed to the nines – pink sequined top, high-waisted skirt, heels, curled hair – ready to paint the town red, the 'town' being worst-most-seedy-place-in-the-world Deco, which for some unknown reason I had agreed to go to. 7pm arrives and I start my 1-minute journey down the road to Hudsons. I ring tipsy friend just to check she hasn't passed out in a gutter.

'Where are you?" I ask.
"At home. Why?" (She lives in Hout Bay)
"Er, it's 7 o'clock... you got me out of bed and said to be at Hudsons at 7 o'clock."
"Did I?"
"Are you being serious? You told me to wake up and get ready!"
"Oops."

Turns out she had driven back to Hout Bay, ended up showering and giving herself a makeover and had forgotten she called me. Luckily I had a mate down at Hudsons (which is a social waterhole on a Friday now!) so went down anyway for Porky Poppers and Champagne. Tipsy friend arrived only an hour later. With bad news. She was not coming to Deco. Neither was anyone else who had formerly committed to the event. In a moment of sheer panic that I would be going home on my Friday night, semi-pissed, make-up still in place, a takeaway chilli popper, alone in my pretty sequined top, I accepted an invitation from a male to join 'them' on Long Street. 'Them' being male, male's little sister and a lesbian couple. But spontenaity and craziness (aka the Champagne) got the better of me and I leapt into Batman (the Yaris) and took off and at overenthusiastic speed, dodging police cars and bergies. After a brief stint at Long Street's Slug & Lettuce (Lord knows why we need two of those crusty joints in Cape Town), ended up shaking a heel on the Zula Bar d-floor till some ludicrously hairbrained hour, and woke up with painfully sensitive teeth as a result of all the enamel-extinguishing Toffee Vodka shooters. Promptly booked an appointment for a filling.

Saturday is a hungover haze (saw Hairspray, drank freezos, drank bubbly, ate burgers...). And Sunday consisted of retail therapy (been offered a job as Forever New's mascot) and seeing a chick-flick romcom (Love Wedding Marriage), both of which left me with a large hole in my wallet and feeling miserable enough to lie on the couch in pink slippers and all my new clothes, ploughing through nougat for the remainder of the day. All in all, it was a weekend-long LC. But boy was it worth it!!

Tonight my favourite show in the whole entire world starts – the fantastically fabulous amazingly excellent magnificently stupendous bodaciously awesome brilliantly wonderful show-stopppingly incredible SO YOU THINK YOU CAN DANCE. Screw the knees – I'm so excited I could pirouette round the office! I usually sit and watch it wearing my pointe shoes (just like a Springbok supporter would wear their Bok shirt for the game). Have decided to go teetotal this week (until at least Tuesday!) so unfortunately no celebratory bubbly for opening night.