There has been no internet all morning in my office. This is an epic fail in a publishing house for many a reason, but it certainly does nothing to help a fact checker (such as myself) check facts, let alone play on Facebook and update my tweets. So have been remarkably unproductive over the course of the morning, of course using the ‘free’ time to BBM friends about what’s going down this weekend. Incidentally, I must make sure that absolutely nothing is going down. When I go to Jo’burg I get a mild (okay, severe) case of FOMO and would much prefer if Cape Town somewhat froze in time for the weekend to avoid anything unforgettably bodacious occurring in my absence. Especially since I have become Cape Town’s spontaneously-social, slightly-unhinged, devoted and dashingly daring diva over the past couple of weeks. Anyway, thankfully it doesn’t seem like much is happening – I’m actually taking the party with me and have already organised an agglomeration of drinks, dinners and one night on the Jozi town with my Gauteng crew (yes, as much as I renounce the place, I do have a ‘crew’).
The trail run and the mortifyingly monumental night out last Saturday, plus a highly advanced and straining dance class on Tuesday has left me battered, bruised and exhausted, with a bad knee. Have spent the week wrapped in Transact (I look like a burn victim), which is so not cool when it’s so cold. Essentially I’m sitting in 13 degrees wrapped in ice patches, and I smell like a strip of spearmint chewing gym; am blue, shivering, limping and swollen. Can you say ‘attractive’?
Actually looking forward to being at home. What I love about my big family home nestled amongst the lilac jacarandas in Lower Houghton (and the murderers and thieves lurking on every Joburgian corner), are the heated carpets. I don’t have that luxury here in Cape Town, and probably never will... unless I marry a suit. I spend most of my day embedded in a fleece blanket, since Joburg refuses to budge from below zero, snuggled on the heated floor next to my boxer (best dogs in the world I might add). That and a glass of wine, along with the mindless chit-chat of my wonderful yet categorically crazy family, will do me just fine for a few days.
Managed to snag me a voucher on CityMob for Vaudeville next Friday. And somehow (and I’m still in disbelief considering Capetonians display phenomenal expertise in an inability to commit) I managed to get a whole six people to buy one too. For R130 we are off for a 3-course meal and show at the fiendish Fez. And I can’t wait. Yes I’ve been before but I would go every night of my life if I could. Talk about my dream night – I am obsessed with food. I am addicted to Champagne. I love my friends. I love the stage (hopefully this time I won’t attempt to actually climb onto it clutching a half-empty bottle of Pongracz mid-performance). And dancing is my life (the tappers are excellent). Put it all together and what have you got? Spectacular-spectacular – a shindig, a night of pure revelry, fabulous entertainment, drool-over food, breaking down on the d-floor post-show dressed in masks and adorned in feathers cabaret-style, inspired by the on-stage acrobats! Note to self: must drink less before the show even starts this time so can actually remember said performance. This will be difficult when I’m at a table with http://viviandlola.blogspot.com/. We share a similar passion for (or should I say dangerous infatuation with) rose champagne. Us two together = lethal combination.
Ok that’s all from me. I’m off till next Wednesday so I’ll see you then. Hopefully in one piece. And with some great stories.
