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.

"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. 

Tuesday, Snooze-day

This is what I started my very slow, sleepy morning off with. Now you want one, don't you? There is no better way to kickstart your Tuesday (or everyday if you're addicted like me!). Get your pert asses to Caturra on Seapoint Main Road to experience and revel in this gorgeously gigantic glass of gratifying, sensationally titillating heaven. They really do make the best freezocino's in the entire world – and you can believe me when I say that because, no matter what country I'm in, I always track down a place that serves them (even in Bali, Thailand, Greece, Spain, Paris, Portugal, Turkey, the States... you name it!). Caturra outdoes them all with its thick, rich, creamy sweet coffee injection... Aaaahhhhhhh (and it's made with powder and water and is fat free! Beat that!).

I certainly needed it to wake me up though. I had a tap lesson till 9pm last night which left me totally wired till about 11pm and then suddenly I just crashed and could barely keep my eyes open! Problem was my dreams the entire night were filled with tap rhythms and beats and time steps and when I wasn't in time I got really annoyed, which just woke me up. But then as soon as I fell asleep again it would start again. I basically spent the whole night concentrating so hard that I woke up even more exhausted than when I'd gone to bed. I need freezocinos on tap today (no pun intended)!

I ran out of face cream yesterday, at both my house and my boyfriend's. It wasn't a great time for such an occurrence since, as a result of my facial sunburn this weekend, my nose and forehead have begun to peel, fairly obviously, in a Chainsaw Massacre kind of way, and with no cream it looks and feels as if I have spent four days naked in a desert with no water and nothing to wash my face with but a facecloth made from sandpaper and gravel. I can't put on make-up when I don't have cream on so am trying inconspicuously to hide my face today. I'm refusing to turn around when addressed or to leave the safety of my computer screen, and am contemplating purchasing a very fashionable, preferably perforated, balaclava during my lunch break.