The Queen's Diamond Jubilee

Am brimming with patriotism right now, and intend to spend the weekend glued to the telly sipping on pimms and waving my Union Jack, chanting 'Rule Britannia'! What a spectacular weekend in history. Our wonderful Queen, 60 years of reign... ... *lip wobble*

GOD SAVE OUR GRACIOUS QUEEN

I'm going to have a bird braai

Every morning, I wake up at 5am. On the dot. I usually fall asleep again, if I don't have too much racing through my mind. But the primary reason I wake up is because I'm quite sure there is some form of Bird Boardroom outside my window, where every winged creature in Cape Town gathers at 5am to discuss politics… or worms… or just with the sole sadistic purpose of making sure I am awake with their incessant chirping. So this morning, at 5am, as usual, I was startled awake by my feathered friends. Felt SO exhausted I didn't want to open my eyes and was determined to fall back to sleep.

I just reeeeeeeally needed a sip of water.

Nothing to it.

So, without rolling over, or opening my eyes, I reached behind me, felt for the bottle of water on my bedside table, took a swig then placed it back.

Except that the bottle of water never saw the bedside table.

Rather, I had 'strategically' placed it back in mid air and it landed, nozzle down, in my handbag (which just so happened to be wide open on the floor next to my bed).

Awesome.

"FINE. I'm AWAKE!" I screamed at the stupid birds, slamming the window. "I hope you fly into a propeller."

Flipped on light switch and tipped handbag upside down, the contents of which came pouring out in a waterfall of Valpre. Raced to get a towel to soak up swimming pool on bedroom floor and had to sit for the next 20 minutes drying everything from my wallet, phone and lipglosses, to hardrive, receipts, pills and make-up. Then hung handbag inside out near the heater.

So now I was WIDE awake.

The birds, who had obviously realised their work here was done, had shut up and f***ed off, and I was left alone, in silence, with 3 hours to go till work, the contents of my handbag spread out across the floor to dry.

*Drums finger nails on bedside table*

I hate birds.

The Claw

So. I've never had cramp. Ever. (Cramp from exercise that is... But let's not get into that.) And I certainly didn't think I was prone to it since just two days ago Discovery concluded that I had a 'healthy salt intake' and was exercising a sufficient number of hours per week.

Arrived at my spinning class yesterday ready to roll, and friend and I took on a strenuous 45-minute class. I must mention here that I had a.) worn high heels at work all day, b.) been late for the class so didn't get to warm up, and c.) was feeling particularly dehydrated after having popped a number of pain killers during the day for a headache. I'm not sure that any of these points have anything to do with what was to come... But I like to think they contributed somewhat. I need something to cling on to.

After class I was following the instructor's stretches when suddenly my foot started to feel a little strange. 'Strange' in the sense that I literally felt like it had taken on a life of its own and started curling in on itself. Beginning to very mildly freak out, I left the class, but could barely walk since I seemed to have no control whatsoever over my foot's movements! As if it had totally detached itself from my body. When I finally reached my car I pulled off my shoe and saw that my foot had turned into some sort of mutant claw!!!!

OMG.

I had to keep straightening it out with my hands. But then it would seize and just curl in again.

WTF!!!!!

It was at this point that I came to the conclusion that an alien life form had taken over my foot.

The car guard looked terrified when he heard me screaming at The Claw –
'WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MY FOOT!??!?!'

I grabbed my phone and BBM'ed Personal Trainer Friend (PTF)...

Me: HELP! OMG. My foot has gone loopy!
PTF: What?!
Me: I think I have cramp! OMF! What the f*** is going on!!!!!!!!
PTF: Ok relax Olive, you need to do some stretches. The same you do for your calf, then get home and drink some salt water.
Me: Are you mad? – I can't drive!!! If I press the pedal my foot folds in on itself. It's like a bloody sea anenome!

After much deliberating, half laughing about the situation and half crying from the pain, I managed to do some stretches against my car door, wearing only one shoe (much to all all the onlookers' amusement), and PTF warned me (while trying to hide his own amusement) to NOT point my foot or it'll just cramp more. Somehow I got home, driving with a flexed foot, but when I got to my carpark I could not put my shoe back on! If I bent The Claw to get it into the shoe it would just seize up again!!! This was getting ridiculous. Had to shamefully hobble past Hot Trainer and his client with one shoe on my way up to my flat. 'Don't ask.'

PTF: Have you made it home?
Me: Just! ...OMF I don't have any salt!!!
PTF: Oh dear. Energade?
Me: No!! WTF am I gonna do?! I'M GONNA DIE! MY FOOT IS GOING TO FALL OFF! I SHALL BE FOOTLESS! 'You want those pairs of shoes m'am?' 'No just the one please!!!!' 'You've really put your best foot forward Olive. Oops that's your only foot!' OMG!
PTF: Relax.
Me: I'm a heartbeat away from downing a shaker of Spur Seasoning Salt...
PTF: Do it!

So I did. Literally.

PTF: I'm laughing so much right now.
Me: Stop laughing at me!
PTF: This is hysterical.
Me: I'm glad you derive so much pleasure from my pain!
PTF: I really do Olive.

Spent the next hour trying to shower and get ready for a dinner date (for which I was phenomenally late) while trying to keep my retarded foot flexed and gulping down glasses of Spur Seasoning Salt-flavoured water.

REALLY?!?!?

Samoosa Stranger

2am. Sunday morning. Ears ringing with Avicii. Eyes blinded by strobes. Just wanted a warm cosy bed. A pair of socks. A clean face. Was that too much to ask?

Finally jumped into friend's car only to discover that we were actually taking a 'quick trip' to the Engen so friend can purchase chicken burger. The idea of food was actually not so upsetting... Grabbed me an Energade and stumbled through the aisles poking packets of nosh, deciding what was going to hit the spot.

And then... all of sudden... I saw them.
Glistening beneath the harsh Woolworth's lighting.

Crispy.
Warm.
Godlike.

A sign read 'GIANT SAMOOSA'. And GIANT they were. They were like bloody Bermuda Triangles!

'Two, please!' I slurred to the lady, already sipping on my unpaid-for Energade.

Friend in queue for Steers flirting with anything with facial hair, so I went to the car to start my samoosa banquet. As I bit into the first gorgeous triangle of heaven, a totally random dude (never seen him in my life) appeared out of nowhere, opened the door and leapt into the car seat next to me.

'That's food poisoning right there!' he says, pointing at my samoosas.

And then he got out.

Just like that. 

WTF?!?!

I looked at the pool-rack-sized specimen in my hand. It suddenly looked like dog food in deep fried face.

I threw them out the car. We drove home.
Me snuggling my Energade.

:(

Rib-iculous

So back to The Chive:

We told him not to wear a white shirt with the green skinnies... or he'll look like a spring onion!

 So, I ring Hussar Grill this morning, to book a table for rib night.

HG: Hussar Grill.
Olive: Hi, can I book a table for tomorrow night. For 6 people at 7pm, please.
HG: Sure thing. Name?
Olive: Olive.
HG: Oh... THAT Olive! It's 'Ribs Olive' !!
Olive: Er...
HG: Don't worry. We got your number. See ya.

(Giggling in background. Then silence)

I'm not at all amused by the fact that I am being referred to as 'Ribs Olive'. As if I consume them on a daily basis.

I may do so in my dreams. Yes. But not in reality.

I'm wearing a balaclava to dinner tomorrow night.

Back to school, back to reality...

Step Daddy went out yesterday and purchased himself a pair of green skinny jeans. Considering he has also lost so much weight recently (manorexia), Mother now officially calls him The Chive. Tried to call her this morning but no answer, 2 minutes later I get a text:

'Can't answer. The Chive still sleeping.'

Anyway, so am back from New York! 

I couldn't write this week... Jet lag encompassed all. By day, I had to staple open my eyes from exhaustion. By night I was full of beans, cartwheeling round my flat and talking to myself. Day 5 and I finally slept and today feel like I'm on some sort of yellow brick road to normality (yes, I saw Wicked on Broadway). I think my brain was in overdrive from processing all the sights, sounds, colours, excitement and Dom Perignon of NYC.

Jet lag does bad things to good people. On Monday I reversed into somebody's car. On Tuesday I took two sets of pain killers because I forgot I'd taken the first set. On Wednesday I watched the same episode of The Lying Games three times before I realised they were quite similar. Yesterday I spoke to a friend for 2 minutes before I realised who it was.

This morning, someone at work asked me if I was still jetlagged since I'd been playing and singing along to Christmas music all week? I had to explain that that wasn't actually out of the ordinary for me.

So this is just a quick note to say:

 WELCOME HOME TO MEEEEEE

I am finally hitting the town tonight with all my girls. I refused to embrace the Mother City until I'd got NYC out of my system. So bring it ON!

I leave you with some further snapshots of New York! Start spreading the news...

 Circle Line Cruise round the Statue of Liberty

 Views from my friend's apartment

 Leaping for joy (in my new blue heels)

 Central Perk... I mean Park!

 Just because I have such a cool camera

 Took a Broadway Jazz class here!

  Saw this!

 Night out on the town.

Empire State Building