It's concert day. Woopppeeeeeeee. Yipppekayay! Wooohaaaaa. Yeeehhhaaaaaaa. Zippadeedooodaaaa.
Concert day is clearly good as it means that this Olive gets to make a premature office departure so as to get home before every road, alleyway and highway in Cape Town officially shuts down, and every fan and his dog make their way to Cape Town stadium.
(Let me hear a 'Oooooo' ... 'Aaaaaaah')
The unfortunate part is that this guy:
...has very kindly decided to stay with us today, tonight.... and the whole weekend!! After arriving at my dinner late last night having almost lost a car door, been blown into a road sign, and flashed my knickers at the car guard (not out of choice), I walked into Blonde restaurant with what was carefully GHD-styled hair, but now a slovenly bird's nest of wiry knots, and bits of paper and sand from the street. If this is going to happen tonight, I am walking to the concert in a disposable windbreaker. Or a hat. A hat's probably more stylish. I don't think they'd let me in, in a windbreaker AND a moonbag: 'Eish, sorry M'am... Wrong concert... Roxette is only on in May?'
Anyway, I was at work at the crack of dawn today. I'm REALLY not a morning person so it didn't suprise me when I was half way to work and I realised I'd walked out the house without any shoes on, and promptly had to turn around and drive home, only to find that I'd left the shower running and the front door unlocked. Needless to say I won't be waking up this early. Ever again.
This guy seems to have as much work as me and must've also gone through 2 bottles of Graham Beck at dinner last night.
The Cricket World Cup and the Super 15 Rugby have started. This means that if I want to see my boyfriend at all over the next couple of weeks, I'm going to have to accept and welcome the TV as a 3rd wheel in the relationship. Actually, more like I'll be a 3rd wheel to him and TV.
