Awkward moment

Can I vent a little? I'm an active person. By active I mean I gym, I dance, I run, I skip, I hop, I squeak a takkie... Whatever it is, I make sure I exercise every single day. It makes me feel happy. I like to wear heels when I go out. I like to be able to jump around when I'm excited (the child in me) or stamp my feet when I'm grumpy. I like to be able to stretch in the morning while I brush my teeth. When I can't do any of these it upsets me. I feel useless. Immobile. Demotivated. Emo.

Before I start to sound depro (or is it too late) I'll let you know that a charming and rather good-looking young chap in a large beanie (which left far too much to the imagination – does he have hair? Does he not have hair? Is it grey? Is it pink? Curly? Straight?) walked into my flat on Monday night, which is currently on the market, and put in an offer. Not thinking my tiny studio was going to sell at all, I was immediately filled with worry and images of myself sleeping on a bench on the promenade, cuddling a pillow and my favourite pair of shoes. Until he told me he didn't want to live in it and was glad for me to stay on as a tenant. He then asked if there was anything I needed... Me being me, I instantly saw this as an invitation to pimp out my pad and promptly gave him a list of things I desperately required, everything from blackout curtains to new windows, a paint job, more cupboard space and an elliptical trainer (for the knees of course). But he wasn't taken aback, he simply said: 'I'm on it... '
I almost fell over backwards!
Me: 'Will you marry me?'
Beanie: 'What?'
Me: 'Er, I mean... will you carry me... to the couch. I have bad knees.'
He looked perplexed, then he grinned.
Beanie: 'How about I throw in a zimmer frame...'
 
Heading to El Burro tonight. For tequila tasting. Or as my friends call it: dinner. I've run out of pain killers (for my knees), so tequila will do just fine.

Better left unremembered!

 Not liking bubbles so much today. This is owing to the fact that I practically inhaled a bottle and a half on Friday night at the house-cooling bash, before finding myself locked outside Power and the Glory, pleading with the bouncer to let me in or I'd report him for causing me to catch pneumonia. Since I was practically wearing a boob tube for a skirt my threats seemed to have no effect on him whatsoever. Once I'd managed to sneak in when he wasn't looking, I continued to lash out on poor innocent souls, cursing the bartender for not having Hunter's Dry but rather some Sparletta-coloured apple juice with not-enough-percent alcohol. From there I blinked and found myself in Fez, attempting to redo my makeup in the bathroom mirror. After carefully applying eye liner everywhere but my actual eyes we hit the dance floor for a solid two hours of what can only be described as bopping. If only I had a video since I can barely walk in my new heels let alone dance in them and am sure, if my memory serves me correctly, people were actually moving aside to allow space for my violently swinging limbs. And then suddenly I was in a karaoke room, holding a mike and a Hunter's Dry and shouting Britney Spear's 'I Love Rock 'n' Rock' while I tried to immitate her seductive hip movements, but I was struggling to keep my balance and kept having to steady myself on a chair. It was at this point that I looked at my phone only to realise it was 4:15am. Somewhere amidst the singing, blur and tray of shooters I found some sense and promptly departed (leaving Lovely Boyfriend and friends) to stuff my face with the leftover nachos at home and navigate my bed. Family lunch on Saturday was torture.

Evidence of Friday night can be found on Facebook.

So still in recovery mode, I'm trying to figure out when I'm going to find the time to pack up my house. I hate moving. I really really hate moving. I know I've been banging on relentlessly about my new pimpim' bachelor pad but I wish I could wave my magic mover's wand and BAM, I'm moved in. Everything unpacked and the last house dealt with and a big deposit back in my bank account. I have easily kept Vodacom in business this month having had to call electricians, plumbers, carpet cleaners, DSTV... And the fact that I have a trip to Jo'burg (unfortunately) then I'm off to London and Turkey kind of leaves me with three days to pack, move, unpack and settle before I'm off! I don't want to be a grown up. I want to grow back down again.

On your marks, jet set

Am having writer's block this week. Sorry. I tried to write a post on Tuesday. And made a couple more attempts yesterday again. I now have at least five drafts saved, and they all start with 'Am having writer's block this week'! 

All I can think about at the moment is **London** – being back in my bustling Bristish hometown and trawling the King's Road alongside fellow poms, clutching a Starbucks frappucino (equivalent to freezocino), my arms lined with Top Shop shopping bags (I'm allowed to, it's London) after a morning in Oxford Circus (officially my favourite place in the world) and Covent Garden. Heading to the pub after a full day of walking and shopping for a jug of pimms and some pork scratchings beneath the spring blossoms, then dining on the Fulham Road with Lovely Boyfriend and all my amazing friends and family whom I cannot WAIT to see! Bliss! (And bankruptcy... Blasted ZAR.)

(I think I forgot to mention that on my way to Turkey for amazing free-food-and-bubbly media-elite week on luxury 14-person ketcha with private crew and chefs, we are actually stopping in to London for a day. I literally am reeling, but wish it was longer since we have to be up actually before dawn cracks to get to Gatwick. But who can complain about being whisked away on Monarch Airlines only to arrive in Turkey for 5-star free-of-charge treatment. I certainly can't.)

Anyway, what with the trip in 3 weeks, moving house in 2 (to previously mentioned pimpim' bachelor pad), and flying home for Easter in 1 (we all know how I feel about Joburg), my mind is ticking like a metranome on acid. I haven't even thought about packing yet and am trying to focus on the fact that we are throwing a 'house cooling' chicks-only bash tomorrow night! (As opposed to house warming, in case you didn't quite get it.) I have been instructed to make my famed, gloriously cheesy culinary masterpiece nachos, oozing with salsa, dripping with juicy mince, and dipped in fresh guacamole and ice-cold sour cream. (Did I just make you dribble? You dribbled didn't you.) So am going to be frantically busy tomorrow eve cooking up a nacho storm, while sipping (or gulping) on my flute of Villiera Brut Rose between tasks, and dressed in lumo gear (remind me why we made it a themed evening again?).

Must get to gym after work to work off rather large 19-cheeses Death Quiche I inhaled (literally devoured it in no more than three mouthfuls) over lunch. (I believe that when an anorexic pictures the devil, she visualises this exact quiche.) Am only allowing myself my regular glass of Thursday Night Champagne if I conquer an hour's workout. Say goodbye Death Quiche!

All that jazz...

I've only just got around to today's post this second since, apart from working extremely hard of course, I have been frantically searching for a new car-insurance company – anything has to be lower than what I'm paying at the moment! It seems all the odds are against me since I own a black car, have had a minor collision, and am only 25. 

I am also refreshing Gumtree every 15 seconds in hope of finding a totally pimpin' bachelor pad on the Atlantic Seaboard (I have a mild obsession with the ocean, it makes me happy). Considering my rent budget, the word "pimpin'" may not be appropriate here. I will probably have to go with 'crusty' and 'decrepit'. But, suprisingly, some interesting options are popping up and I may end up in a totally decent shoebox, with perhaps a small woodern chair, a futon and a mini bar fridge! As long as I have offstreet parking or I'll have to sell my laptop to pay for the increase in car insurance...

I am off to a jazz dance class tonight to get my razzle dazzle on. At least if I don't get the part I still have a safe space to release my inner theatrical expertise! I also desperately need to tone my bottom before this weekend. – You are going to have to wait till the next post to find out what extraordinarily thrilling adventures I am embarking on this weekend at my friend's 30th. Let your imaginations run wild – and don't rule out hotels, cruises, spa treatments and cocktail parties...