Like Step Father, like Step Daughter

Woke up (particularly hungover) on Saturday morning to a searing sun burn! The room I had somehow ended up in after my night on the town was bathed in light.

Wondered momentarily if I was dead...

I may as well have slept on a frikken sundeck! Looked around for suncream, or a cap, or zinc... anything!... but instead found a pair of shades conveniently perched on the bedside table, and I covered my body with the duvet to protect it from the rays of fire burning through the so-called 'curtains' – which quite honestly must have been made out of cling wrap based on the job they were doing. The good news is, the person whose room I was in definitely wasn't a vampire. The bad news was I was perspiring profusely, which had left a very questionable wet patch on the sheets that would need an explanation.

This was dehydration beyond compare and I crawled into the bathroom and put my head under the tap. Back in bed, pounding head was quickly intensified by my bbm beeping frantically. Step Daddy was in town. Step Daddy wanted to meet for lunch. Christ. I needed a shower, a freezo, an energade and to get out of this hell pit before I incinerated. Now, where was my car again?

A few hours later, I arrive at Basilico, dishevelled, decrepit, dark rings, liverless etc...

SD: 'Don't you look hot... Big night?'
Me: 'It's that obvious?'
SD: 'Do you feel as bad as you look?'
Me: 'Am hanging like a fruitbat.'
SD: 'Me too. Let's drink through it.'
Me: 'Great minds...'

A bottle of champagne AND a bottle of wine later, we thought it a good idea to perhaps order some food, while both simultaneously avoiding calls from mother...

SD: 'You're driving me home.'
Me: 'And you're Spiderman.'
SD: 'If you do, I'll buy you two bottles of Champagne for your girls' night tonight?'
Me: 'Why didn't you just say so?'

In car, playing Coldplay's 'Paradise' full blast, silver-fox step dad chanting the wrong words out the window... questionable looks from pedestrians... etc

SD: 'Woooooooo. This song is amaziiiiiiing. Turn it up!!!! LOUDER! Para-para-paralysed!!!'
Me: 'It doesn't go any higher. You blew my left speaker 5 minutes ago, remember?'
SD: 'Who sings it? Is he really paralysed?'
Me: 'You went to their concert 2 weeks ago. It's paradise...'
SD: 'It sure is!'

We made it to his place unscathed, after much giggling and stalling, where the man he was staying with offered me yet more wine. I chose life and drove home while I still could.

Good times.

How-ZIT

Guess who has press tickets to John Cleese's Alimony Tour tonight! Childhood memories of hyperventilating to Fawlty Towers and A Fish Called Wanda are flooding back as I consume my football-sized friday breakfast treat – a pain au chocolat fresh from the Carlucci's oven. Now have chocolate all over keyboard. And face. Not good for face considering I currently look like a 'before' shot on a Roaccutane pamphlet...

Was halfway through watching Texas Chainsaw Massacre when realised my skin bares a remarkable resemblance to the murderer's and promptly rang up my dermatologist in Joburg. (I refuse to find one here because no one could ever possibly be as bodacious as this guy.)

Dermo: What can I do for you, Olive?
Me: My face is erupting!!! I have Dante's Peaks everywhere!
Dermo: I'm sure you don't...
Me: Well then why did someone in the street shout to me, 'Did someone order pizza?'
Dermo: Ok, relax... Have you been stressed?
Me: If you had GodZITllas on your face, wouldn't you be stressed?
Dermo: Ok, send me photos. I can't do anything unless I see it for myself.
Me: Photos?!?! The lens will blow up!
Dermo: Just get them to me...

Spent next 20 minutes in bathroom at work taking snapshots of the minefield that is my face, praying no one walk in and catch me, and praying more than no one EVER EVER see said snapshots.
Then sent off email with attachments to Dermo.

Me: And?
Dermo: Well it doesn't look good.
Me: No shit, Sherlock!
Dermo: Do you want to go on a mild antibiotic?
Me: Can I drink?
Dermo: Better if you don't.
Me: Then no. What are the other options?
Dermo: A topical antibiotic?
Me: GIMME!

Within 5 minutes, I had a fax in my hands with a free prescription. Not sure it was inappropriate or maybe a tad OTT but sent lovely Dermo a little thank you email:

You're the best dermo in all the land. I shall never ever go
to another one, not for all the zit creams in the world.

You always get it SPOT on.

Yours in repugnant skin ailments,

Olive

I didn't get a reply.

The Early Bird Catches Nothing

I'm not a morning person. I never have been and don't think I ever will be. This morning, still dark, not even a bird chirping, I was fast asleep dreaming of my Champagne house with Champagne pool and Champagne husband when...

VIBRATE VIBRATE VIBRATE... ... VIBRATE VIBRATE VIBRATE...

I choose to ignore. But...

VIBRATE VIBRATE VIBRATE... ... VIBRATE VIBRATE VIBRATE...

I look on the phone and see 'Home Sweet'.
Home Sweet my ass.
I answer.

Olive (still half asleep): Really??!?!?!
Mother: Sorry Darling but there's a Kulula sale!
Olive: Stop traffic.
Mother: Shall we book flights?
Olive: It's stil dark outside.
Mother: And the sale's already started! So when do you want to come down?
Olive: When I've had more sleep.
Mother: Come on Darling. What about just before your birthday. I'll take you shopping for presents?
Olive: Book it!

So now I was awake. So I did the unthinkable. I got changed and went to gym. I repeat: I am NOT a morning person. I gym at 5pm. And I don't like change.

Random Gay Man In Pink Gym Top And Spandex: Er, are you using that machine?
Olive: Shhhhh, I'm sleeping.
RGMIPGTAS: Sorry, but if you're not using the machine, can I?
Olive: I'm just having a warm-up nap.
RGMIPGTAS: That's really very selfish of you. I'm calling a PT.
Olive (with the hand gestures and everything): OMG. You wouldn't.
PT: Are you using this machine or can this man get on?
Olive: Man? It's wearing a pink top!
PT: That's very rude. I think you need to give up the machine.
Olive: But I'm using it!
PT: For what?
Olive: As a headrest.
PT: Ma'am...
Olive: Fine!
RGMIPGTAS: Yay!
Olive: Ug, could you BE more gay?!
RGMIPGTAS: Whatevs! 

Weeekeeeeennndddd

Today I am taking half a day, which effectively means I finish in 30 MINUTES! GaaadZOOKS I'm happy! My office is like the 3rd Reich this week, so a weekend away in Simonstown couldn't be more welcome than a hamper of Freezos and Bubbly delivered to my doorstep. Mother rings me last night:

Mother: Are you alive?
Olive: No, I died on Tuesday. Didn't you see the obituary?
Mother: You've fallen off the map this week. Why haven't you returned any of my calls?
Olive: What, all 47 of them?!
Mother: Darling, I just worry when I don't hear from you.
Olive: I've been busy, Mum.
Mother: Busy with?
Olive: Would you like a play by play?
Mother: I just hope nothing is wrong. Have you got some food in your fridge?
Olive: If you count Hunters as food.
Mother: Are you becoming an alcoholic?
Olive: Define alcoholic?
Mother: Oh dear. I'm coming down...
Olive: Mum, it's just for the weekend away.
Mother: Away? Where?! Who is driving you?
Olive: An unhinged, unshaven, unemployed drug-addict on his motorbike. He's picking me up just after dark. Unfortunately he has no spare helmet, so I thought I'm just put a fruit bowl on my head.
Mother: WHAT?!?!
Olive: It's okay Mum, I'm driving with friends.
Mother: Make sure you eat vegetables. You need them for your weak little knees.
Olive: Yes, a piece of broccoli should fix that tendon right up. And a carrot might help it see in the dark!

Mother gave up at that point, made me promise to wear suncream and hung up the phone. Mothers. You got to love them.

"I'd rather have roses on my table than diamonds on my neck" ~ Emma Goldman

Am having some sort of [slightly unhinged] impassioned flower moment today.

(You may have noticed my abundance of floral quotes on Twitter. I must apologise for that.)

I was out getting my standard Monday night meal (a plate of fresh veges in an attempt to counteract the weekend's pizza, freezos and alcohol) at Giovannis last night when I was completely taken aback by the burst of colour scattered exquisitely about the ground just outside. This kaleidoscope of sweet-smelling boons actually made my day. I couldn't afford them (seeing as this month I'm actually scraping together coppers just to buy a  tube of toothpaste), so I stood on the pavement admiring them lovingly for a good 20 minutes, taking photos and ginormous whiffs of the roses, iris' and sweetpeas... Bloomin' lovely. Let's just say my happiness this morning definitely 'stemmed' from that moment. (Sorry, I had to.)

"Where flowers bloom, so does hope."

Spent a good six hours on the beach on Saturday. It didn't feel very hot, so I deemed one layer of SPF 8 sufficient for the full six hours (forgetting the fact that my fragile skin hadn't been exposed to anything but layers of clothing since May). Fail. Left my pallid exterior buried in the sand and arrived at drinks that evening a brilliant shade of scarlet, and inordinately dehydrated. Two drinks down I was burning up and seeing spots, and had to be put to bed covered in wet towels, with a mild case of sunstroke. Had four cold Bio Oil baths on sunday and screamed like a 2-year old if anyone came anywhere near me, let alone touched me. Have gone through three tubs of Body Butter, a tube of 8-Hour Cream, 27 bottles of water (the evidence is strewn about my flat), and am now a platinum blonde... – my highlights get totally aroused in the sun. 

So CrapBerry was out all of yesterday in African, the Middle East and Europe. And here I was convinced that no one liked me anymore. It was a very lonely day. So much so that I got into bed at 7:30pm, since there was no one to talk to. Was startled awake at 11:20 to my phone having its own rave next my bed – a cacophony of shrill tones and vibrations as the day's messages came rolling through. I didn't get up to look... I just rolled over, reassured, and pleased that I really did have friends. 

Pink, pasty, pudgy and politics

Ok, sans doute the best concert I have ever, ever, ever been to in my life. Was already a crazy stalker Coldplay freak fanatic who balls her eyes out to all their music and quotes their lyrics, but being with my two besty chickens only a couple metres away from sex-on-legs Chris Martin (and his radical multicoloured piano) was just so freaking emo and so darn amazing. Literally had 'tears streaming... down [my] face...' Feeling like I drank, bathed in, slept in, washed my face with, and cleaned my ears out with Cranberry Brutal Fruit this morning after consuming gargantuan goblets of the stuff throughout the evening. Luckily pink skinnies happened to match pink drink. Ever so fashionable. And totally convenient with regards to spillage.

Am dragging man friend to beach with me on Saturday, since all my chicks have chosen to bugger of to wear daisies and throw rocks, and the forecast says it's going to be a cancer-inducing 30 degrees. Had to specify some rules beforehand.

Olive: It's gonna bake on Sat. Let's go to the bitch and burn our bums off!
Man Friend: Sounds good to me
Olive: Am wintery, wobbly, pasty and pudgy. Plus I need a leg wax. So keep your sunnies on, and no looking down.
MF: Great, am going to the beach with a sasquatch.
Olive: I pride myself on the fact that I'm not your average blonde-anorexic-airhead Capetonian.
MF: Damn - that means you'll actually want to eat at lunch? I better bring cash.
Olive: Yes. And talk about politics.
MF: I'm bringing my iPod.
Olive: Beach bat?
MF: Not sure they allow dogs to play on that beach...
Olive: Am not even sure I fit into my bikini anymore. May just have to wear knickers.
MF: Do I have to sit next to you?
Olive: Yes. Otherwise people might think you're a loner.

Tonight must find bikini. I fear it may have decomposed in back of cupboard.

  

*Coldplay*Coldplay*Coldplay*

So it looks like we'll be heading back for Round 2 of injections. Fabulous. Wooopppeeeee. Am ecstatic.

NOT.

Still recovering from the extreme trauma of the first one, and now to have it again in the other knee!! It took so much out of me (on top of 7 tubes of blood), am going to have to spend the next few weeks building up my stamina again.

How to do that?

"REST!" says Mum, Surgeon, friends, and every other person I've ever met.

I had to look 'rest' up in the dictionary this morning. Something about 'putting your feet up... not going out...' Sounds absurd. But it's come at a good time since every man and his dog is going to Rocking The Daisies this coming weekend, leaving me alone in Cape Town. What am I supposed to do? Sit home and knit?! Hoping it's warm enough so that I can go 'rest' on the beach. Or in a bar, whatever...

Summer is on its way and I'm not allowed to exercise (bar cycling). Am still carrying lots of winter wobbly bits due to hot chocolate overindulgence – this calls for emergency tactics: an additional cycling session a day starvation. Need to start saving for Christmas presents anyway.

Was a lovely weekend. The most exciting part was when I finally bought the pair of pink skinny jeans from Forever New that I have been eyeing for a stupid amount of time. I have wanted pink skinny jeans since 2009. So you can imagine my elation. I proceeded to wear them the entire weekend and now have hastily shoved them in the wash so they're ready for Coldplay on Wednesday. They are so hot I'm half expecting Chris Martin to spot them in Golden Circle and hoist me and my pants up on stage. I think they'd fall off if he even just looked at me. Ah the rich and famous... I want one.

Below is the song I am most excited for, but during which will also probably have a little drizz due to the memories it holds. Luckily I don't think I'm the only one when it comes to Coldplay songs who might shed a tear or four.

I was actually at this concert – it was the Brit Awards 2009. Yes, I got a press ticket, and yes I went alone. And yes, I finished the free press Champagne in the first 25 minutes: