Take the leap!

Happy Leap Day/Year to all. I thought it was any ordinary day until I read a tweet by Pongracz saying how lucky we are to have an extra day in the year to make memories, and that we should toast to it. I was going to attempt to be healthy at my braai tonight and forgo alcohol, but how could I ignore such an optimistic life-enhancing zealous tweet. So purchased a bottle of bubbles at lunch and am ready to jump this hump day.

So I went to this shoe shop today to fetch my favourite favourite sandals in all the world. My little gorgeous pink babies from Aldo have lasted me 3 years. I have walked them to hell and back, wearing them from everything to festivals, weddings, beaches, volcano climbing (yes, I did that once), promenade walks and Tiger Tiger. Last week, those poor lovely things, finally (I knew it was coming), literally snapped in half.

I was recommended a shoe shop. I took them to there. I paid a hefty amount and what I picked up this morning made my jaw drop...

What was a beautiful, thin beige sole, was now a revoltingly thick, heavy, flip-flop-type black rubber sole, which I am convinced was constructed out of an old car tyre. My delicate, exquisite sandals now resemble the frightening offspring of a croc and a strop. Any hope of wearing them to the wedding this Saturday has been dashed. If I dance too fast they'd melt. I'd have grip on an ice rink in those things. Anyone need a giant eraser? Tyre patch? A ping-pong bat?

F***

At least I won't ever be struck by lightening..

Tonight's bubbly is gonna go down even better.

What a drag

After a full day in bed post-hen party (at the infamous Beefcakes) I woke up Monday morning to see 'You have been tagged in 17 photos on Facebook' ...

SH*********T

Raced to work to find a number of disorderly images of an unrestrained Olive frolicking amongst topless men and drag queens, flourescent pink feather bower between my legs, a glass of Champagne in one hand, and a significantly large cucumber in the other...!?! Hastily detagged the erroneous evidence of inebriated lunacy, praying no one had yet seen said affirmation.

Mother had rung at 8am Sunday morning. In my unfathomably hungover state, and running on all of 3 hours sleep, I struggled to get out more than one word at a time let alone a coherent sentence.

Mother: MORNING DARLING!!
Olive: Ssshhhh.
Mother: What?
Olive: Head.
Mother: You were drunk last night.
Olive: What would make you say such a thing?!??!!
Mother: I got a text from you at 3.27am saying you'd ordered two golden retrievers off eBay.
Olive: Er.
Mother: And you sent your Father a photo of an enormous cucumber.
Olive: Um.
Mother: And then you asked your Father if he could pay you back for the golden retrievers!
Olive: Please... you're making my LC worse than it already is.
Mother: Go back to bed. And for God's cancel those dogs!

Cringe.

Had a hunch...

 WHY when you've been suffering for days and you finally book an appointment with a doctor, specialist, psychologist, physio, proctologist (hypothetically), whatever... that the morning of said appointment you wake up, and you feel absolutely wonderful. Stupendous. Like a million ZAR. The healthiest, strongest person alive. Midas.

If you had a sore throat, you feel like you could dominate the local karaoke bar. If you had a boil (sis), it's (hopefully) mysteriously vanished. If you had a sore ankle, you now feel like you could run up the 2430 metres above sea level to Macchu Picchu. (I'm choosing not to revert back to the proctologist comment.)

This whole week have had pounding head and sore ears due to severely aching back and knotted neck. Finally decided must pay visit to lovely physio for checkup, and... what do you know, I wake up this morning feeling like I've drunk the elixir of life (and not those 4 glasses of bubbly someone I was forced to drink last night).

Am attributing this to the fact that it is Friday and perhaps subconsciously one is automatically less tense on this excellent day.

But despite all, am very much still determined to get a massage, so have purposefully re-angled my screen (to cause significant neck strain). At one point was even caught banging my head against the keyboard in trying to find my headache. And have been sitting in particularly odd hunched-over positions all morning in a pathetic attempt to make back seize up again.

Realised how visibly absurb I looked when the IT guy shouted from across the office: 'Morning Quasi.'

In the spirit of things, I leave you with a joke for the day:

What's wrapped in plastic and hangs from the top of a bell tower? 

The Lunchpack of Notre Dame.

A mothful

Was lying peacefully under gale-force-winds fan on my couch last night (suffering from significant Sunday Blues after Cape Town Tens), in minimal clothing due to life-threatening heatwave, watching Downton Abbey (new favourite series) and scoffing down a Steers chocolate-and-caramel soft serve... when Mothzilla (directly proportionate to the size of a small albatross) flew in front on my fan and was blasted directly into my face! Of course, anyone's natural reaction would be to FREAK OUT COMPLETELY, THROW ICE CREAM ACROSS ROOM, PULL OFF VEST, MANICALLY SHAKE HEAD INCASE MOTH STUCK IN HAIR, RUN AROUND TOPLESS SPITTING OUT MOTH-WING DUST AND SLAPPING SELF RETARDEDLY INCASE MOTH FEEDING ON SKIN...

...Until finally coming to a halt and seeing giant human-eating Moth-ness Monster drowning in pool of runny icecream and chocolate sauce on carpet.

And yes, the neighbours were watching. Again.