Jeepers Creepers

I reached an all-time low last night.

Was heading out to sups when I was stopped in my tracks by a charming geriatric in my block of flats, who told me that two flats in our building had been broken into the previous day. I don't take this kind of shit lightly so I instantly started to panic. He told me not to worry, but just to be careful.

NOT TO WORRY?!?!

As I drove to dinner I decided, due to my extreme fear, I would have to break my no-drinking streak this week and smash a glass of wine or three to calm me down. But calm down I did not.

We arrived at the boys' house and enjoyed a lovely chorizo pasta dinner then settled down in front of the tele to watch tonight's scary movie: Jeepers Creepers.

 HOLY. CRAPNESS.

Have you ever watched that thing?! Demon Crow Man cuts off heads and eat tongues, and sews the heads back on. I don't think I've ever been that petrified in my life. Vivi&Lola lasted all of 15 minutes before going home to watch Care Bears and eat candy floss. I stuck it out for a further 20 minutes and realised that all I could think about was my flat being broken into and me coming home to said Demon Crow Man waiting to chop me up.

I raced to my car and began to freak out hysterically. Who could I call at 10:30 at night? With no dashing boyfriend to come to my rescue, my mother currently on a flight to London, my father - naked and in bed every night by 6pm, and step daddy probably out on the town, there was only one person left to call...

My landlord, BEANIE (if you don't know the story of Beanie, read this then this)!!!

Beanie: Er, hi Olive?
Olive: Hello. (Lip quiver)
Beanie: Everything alright? It's rather late.
Olive: No... I'M SCARED!!!
Beanie: Er, ok... Ok, calm down. Of what exactly?
Olive: Of the big demon crow hacking me to pieces and the men who robbed the two flats downstairs. What if they are all in cahoots?!?
Beanie: I don't quite understand. Are you worried about security? If you are we can talk about putting in an alarm system.
Olive: I don't want to be alooooooone!
Beanie: Right... er, do you want me to come over?
Olive: (sob sob sob)
Beanie: This is awkward. Why don't we chat tomorrow about security and how we can improve it to make you feel safe.
Olive: Don't leave me!!
Beanie: Er... I'll stay on the phone as long as you want.
Olive: Thank you Beanie... (sob sob sob). I want you to hold me.
Beanie: I'm sorry what!?!
Olive: Er, I said I'm so glad you told me... that we can fix up the security...
Beanie: Right, ok.
Olive: You're the best landlord EVER.
Beanie: You're one heck of an interesting tenant.

Catch some Z's

Just stepped out of a gorgeous Dermalogica MicroZone Facial, all clean and glowy and happy and shiny. Was walking confidently down the road to my car, pleased with my new radiant countenance, when a show-stopping gust of wind, typical of the Cape, let loose and consequently blasted every last scrap of dirt, sand, paper, crap, road kill etc into my face. Since my moisturiser hadn't quite sunk in yet, the contents of the street adhered to my skin and I got into my car with a face characteristic of a chimney sweep. I was left to wipe it down with my white top. It was a toss up between that or an old sock. Fail.

Have massive issues with my back and neck at the moment. Which has caused me to have a headache for three consectuive days. Chemist deems it appropriate to sell me Norflex Co saying the usual Myprodols, Propains, Grandpas etc won't work since my headaches are muscle-based. He tells me that Norflex Co will relax all my muscles and get rid of my headache... Great, I think, popping two at once. What he failed to tell me was that taking two Norflex Co is about the equivalent of downing four tequilas and a glass of red wine. You feel totally inebriated and drowsy...

I just went to the office kitchen, put my cellphone in the sink and started to dial my mother on my dirty cereal bowl. You can see people talking, but you can't for the life of you figure out what they are saying. I'm certain my Editor just spoke to me in Cantonese, so I just nodded diligently... then I nodded off on my keyboarddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd

A (not so) Jolly Robo-Olly

So what I thought was shaping out to be an invincible body part... those poor, unfortunate knees of mine are right back at square one after a measely 12-minute run.

Initially, thinking it was just temporary strain, I gave good ol' knee surgeon a buzz.

Doc: Hi Olive
Olive: Doc! So I was running... er, and now my knees are sore again. Should I just ice 'em and hold off for a day or two?
Doc: Are you experiencing serious pain, or just discomfort?
Olive: Well the serious pain is pretty discomforting.
Doc: So there is serious pain?
Olive: I would go with 'a rhythmic throbbing'. I wince if I walk too fast. I'm sure it's nothing.
Doc: That's bad. Let's get you in for an MRI. Might be a cartilage problem that is causing your tendonitis to recoccur and not heal, and a bla bla bla bla bla could cause a bla bla bla and I think we should check your bla bla bla and shave off a bla bla bla (knee jargon)....
Olive: MRI? Cartilage? ARE YOU GOING TO SHAVE OFF MY LEG??!?!
Doc: Yes, shall we schedule an amputation for Thursday 2pm?
Olive: I'll amputate your face.
Doc: You ask me that everytime! Now look after yourself until I see you.
Olive: K... (sad face)
Doc: No dancing.
Olive: K... (even sadder face)
Doc: And no heels!!!

Olive: Well there goes my social life.

Have requested application form for bionic knees.

The hills have eyes. And so do I (still)!

My mother refuses to play Bridge, or join a Bridge club, or even talk about Bridge, because she is afraid she will then be categorized as 'old'. She gyms lots, plays tennis and does active things. But, on Friday evening, I get a phonecall:

Mother: Darling!
Olive: I've been trying to get hold of you all afternoon! Where have you been?
Mother: Oh I've been having SUCH fun.
Olive: Do elaborate..
Mother: Been with all the girls playing Canasta!
Olive: Sounds like a kitchen utensil.
Mother: It's brilliant! It's this fabulous card game.
Olive. A card game??!!! What happened to you and never being an old woman who plays cards?
Mother: It's nothing like bridge, Darling. It's SO cool. Young people play it too you know.
Olive: Define young.
Mother: You should learn. Or come with us when you're in Joburg next month.
Olive: Ah dash it, I'm all booked up. Do you eat cucumber sandwiches? You do, don't you!!! You GRANDMOTHER!
Mother: ACTUALLY, we eat chocolate brownies. It's very hip.
Olive: You should be careful none of you pop a hip!
Mother: I'm done talking to you now.
Olive: Sorry, Im sure it's cool. Just watch those brownies. Your teeth might fall out.

Mother hung up after that.

So that was on Friday. After which I popped to a dinner at Takumi (see below)...

 (Cue drool)

... then went to Kelvin Grove post-Stormers game for un petit shindig. As per, it was filled with slimy, sweaty men in their 'WP Jou Lekker Ding' tops, reeking of beer, boerewors and bad breath, and the DJ couldn't get enough of 'Kaptein, span die seile'.

By about 1:30 I figured I best get home, especially since the lights had come on and the only 'men' left on the dance floor were old enough to be playing Canasta with my Mother. Now, no matter how utterly paralytic I am, I ALWAYS somehow manage to wash my face, brush my teeth and get into pyjamas. Even if I can't remember doing it. I will have done it. I have a diabolical fear of sleeping with my face caked in makeup. The result would be disturbing to say the least.

So I arrived home and went into the bathroom, simultaneously texting, pulling off my skirt and stuffing my face with a Lindt egg. I grab the blue bottle (which I assumed was eye makeup remover), smothered a cotton pad and lifted it to my eyes. It was about to touch down on my lids when I recognised the pungent smell of Nail Polish remover...

I looked to the shelf.

Omf.

I almost just took off my makeup with NAIL-POLISH REMOVER!

I ALMOST JUST KILLED MYSELF!!!

If I'd realised even a millisecond later I wouldn't have any eyes left to make up! I would've burnt a gaping hole though my eye lids and perished on the bathroom floor, writhing in pain, alone.

SO overwhelming was this thought in my inebriated state that all I could do was get into the empty bath tub and cry at the idea that I had almost singed my eyeballs. I then proceeded to try call everyone in my phone book (it was 2:30am) to tell them about my brush with death. Needless to say no one answered and by morning I had forgotten, and couldn't explain the 12 missed calls on my mother's, best friend's and optometrist's cell phones. It was only yesterday, when I decided to fix up my toenails that the smell of remover elicited the memory.

I cried again.

It was an emotionally taxing weekend. 

Do Not Disturb

Why do people come and say hello at gym?

LEAVE ME ALONE!

I'm not there for a social gathering. I'm there to make myself thin and hot for an actual social gathering. Where I will actually WANT to talk to you.

I have no make-up on, am sweating like a rapist, hair scraped back like a frigid ballet teacher, pushing myself to a potentially aggressive level, in the zone, pumping Avicii 'Levels', counting the calories as they burn off my body...

When I get a tap on my shoulder.

Annoying Person I Know: "Jolly Olive! Hi!"

Ignore.

Again:

APIK: "Yo Jolly Olive!"

Apparently very obviously irritated face means nothing, followed by slowly removing earphones, pausing hectic treadmill workout... stop, turn around.

Olive: "Yes?"
APIK: "Waz going down?!"
Olive: "My endorphins."
APIK: "You shvetting a little over there?"
Olive: "Who'd have thought."
APIK: "Not looking your best!"
Olive: "Did I not put on enough make-up?"
APIK: "So the knees must be better – you're running again?"
Olive: "I was..."
APIK: "We should do a run sometime."
Olive: "How about not."
APIK: "So is that your gym outfit?"
Olive: "No, my new dress was at the dry cleaners."

APIK then decides to get into a detailed explanation of his latest career prospects, oblivious to my annoyance. I start up the treadmill at a slow pace to make a point.

APIK: "That's pretty slow."
Olive: "So is this conversation."
APIK: "Do you run for long?"
Olive: "About as long as you've been talking!"
APIK: "Oh, er, should I leave you to it?"
Olive: "Does a bear shit in the woods?"

APIK is now APIDK (Annoying Person I Don't Know)... Coz he certainly no longer wants to know me.

The Master's Mare

I am currently living in Cape Town. But this is what went down at my home in Jo'burg in the early hours of this morning…

Lovely Brother decides: today he is going to get up extra early. Today he is going to wake up early so he can have a leisurely shower, enjoy a relaxing non-rushed breakfast of bacon and eggs, get changed into his ironed pinstripe suit and waddle off to work when he feels refreshed and awake and ready to take on the corporate day. Today he is going to not hit the snooze button on his alarm seven to eight times before moving, consequently waking up the rest of the house (something ALL men are guilty of!). Today he is going to get up straight away and take his time to enjoy the morning round The Jolly Olive household.

He walks sleepily, boxer-clad, to bathroom. Shuts bathroom door and hops into shower. Twenty minutes later, towel round waist, cleanly shaven, teeth brushed, aftershave applied, he tries to exit bathroom. But as he reaches for the door handle... the WHOLE STUPID THING COMES OFF IN HIS HAND!

Shit.

Now my mother is one to wake up early. Shuffling round the house, fixing flowers, opening the curtains, feeding the dog, opening windows, putting on the laundry. However, this morning, not feeling well she lay comatosed in a deep sleep, far away from the depths of the bathroom in which Lovely Brother now stood stuck in his towel. After trying everything in his manly power to open the door – kicking, scratching, pushing, pulling – for a good 40 minutes he began shouting… and shouting… and shouting. But Step Daddy was miles away in the land of Cape Town, and mother had drifted into Dreamland. When he realised his incessant screaming inside the house was going to do no good, he turned around to face the only other portal in the room – an eye level miniscule 10cm by 10cm window... He stuck his face through the bars and began yelling.

Fifteen minutes later, our faithful Thandi (who was getting ready for her day's work in the maid's quarters) became aware of a shreaking coming from outside. She raced out the door head-to-toe in the floral kit we gave her for Christmas, and realised it could only be the Master's voice. But where was it coming from?!?!?!

"Master? Master?"

She raced around the garden frantically, for fear of the Master's life, and came to the conclusion that it was coming form outside the front gate and he MUST be being hijacked on the street.

"Master, I'm COMING!!!!" she screams reassuringly as she presses the panic button, grabs a bread knife and hurries up the driveway.

She races on to the street to save her beloved Master, yet… he is nowhere to be seen. But the screaming continues. Thandi stands confused.

"MASTER? WHERE ARE YOU!?!?!"

It took all of an hour for Thandi to figure out that 'Master' was actually locked inside the house in the spare bathroom. By the time she arrived, Lovely Brother was shivering with cold, dishevelled, exhausted and had lost any sign of his voice after all the screaming.

Mother, who had finally risen from the dead, thought the whole situation was so hilarious, she could not stop laughing and promptly rang me to tell me about it, giggling so much she couldn't get the story out for a good five minutes. Lovely Brother was not amused, was late for work and is still not answering Mother's phonecalls.

It really was a fabulous start to my day.

The things I miss I at home...