Calm before the STORMERS

Sooooo, to win tickets to the Stormers vs Chiefs game on Saturday 9th at Newlands, you had to tweet what you would put (words and pic) on a poster for the game...

I'm gonna win right?? ...

Right??

Life's Little Pleasures

There's so much on my calendar right now (get in there fast!), I barely have time to get a freezo, let alone find the time to get a good night's sleep – everything from Bastille Day to The Nutcracker, to Harry Potter, dinners, birthdays, drinks, coffees, walks, reviews, movies... But busy is good – it's my plan over the next couple of months to avoid any contemplative existential moments. Any empty hours are filled up by dancing, baths, hot chocolate and watching Friends. 

Of course, things haven't exactly been going my way luck wise, which doesn't help the situation. Having just got my car back from the panel beaters after some fabulous freak decided to ding it and duck without so much as a note, I arrived at a tap class last week (the scene of the first crime) and started preparing for my class. Spilling out my tales of woe to my lovely teacher whilst tying up my shoes I heard a blasting smash, followed by a piercing alarm, and looked out of the window only to see an evil man standing by my car. He had evidently got the fright of his life by the shrill cacophony my car produces and he legged it across the field within miliseconds and had vanished before I could even stand up. That incorrigible thief thought it would be fun to smash my very very expensive window (which I was soon to find out) and then NOT steal anything! – Look, I'm not complaining. If he had nabbed my D&G glasses or my tog bag with my fave takkies and my new tub of hot chocolate I would've been distraught to say the least. But what a waste! What was the point really? He races off with an adrenalin rush and I'm left to pick up the pieces, file a report, get quotes, claim on insurance... The best part of the incident (there actually was a best part) was when my tap teacher whipped out her arm-length hi-tech taser gun from nowhere and raced outside yelling 'Let me at 'im', whilst I cowered behind the curtain, knees wobbling and teeth chattering in fear for my life!

I went to Scarborough this last weekend. Everyone asked how it was, if it was a pretty place, if I walked on the beach, what the town was like... The usual questions one would ask. Unfortunately I can't say I could respond to any of these. Being the lazy introvert I've been over the last few weeks, once inside, I stayed inside – under a rather suspect fleece blanket that belonged to the villa (I won't elaborate on the stains but let's just say I could actually crack parts of it). I put on a large pink woollen hat, ridiculous woollen pink slippers (with a pom-pom on the toe), and we drank wine, ate slab after slab of Top Deck, played 30 Seconds, played Kings, cooked elaborate meals (like only a group of 10 females would), ate cheese platters, watched Wimbledon, watched rugby, slept late and read magazines. It was far too cold and energy-sapping to actually get up and leave the house, and far too creepy to venture in to the so-called 'town' - which consists of a number of lurking odd-looking inbreads, a single shop complete with flies and old meats, and a 'pub' called Camel Rock. Some people braved the beach. The furthest I went was the villa's 'game room' (yes, I did get off the couch once), where I shot some pool and enjoyed a few pitiful ralleys of pingpong, while simultaneously feasting on blue cheese, figs and hummus. Feeling exhausted from the over exertion I collapsed back on to the sofa with a Hunters Dry and stayed there for the rest of the trip. Well... I believe (thanks to photographic proof) we got mildly carried away after a dangerous game of Kings and decided to bust some moves in the kitchen to Party Rockers...

Dancing is closed for the holidays right now. I'm miserable. I need my dancing like I need my freezos. So I have had to make a plan and tonight am trying out one of the 'jazz' classes at Virgin Active. I lampoon the latter merely because these classes usually consist of a blonde elderly ex dancer in latex, now in her 50s, buffalo wings and arthritis, trying to relive her glory days back in the studio or on stage. Within 10 minutes she has a pool of sweat by her feet, as do the rest of the rusks in the room, whereas I generally don't feel warm after a few enthusiatic kicks, jazz hands and a pas de bourree to a Bump 5 CD. I end up longing for the end as we learn routines fit for a 2-year-old, and then I race off to do half an hour on the treadmill. Anyway, here's hoping that tonight's class is different. I might just ask if I can take over...

Easy does it

This weekend has come at an excellent time. This ball of snot needs a timeout. Movies and looooots of healthy food (I eat more than usual when I'm sick because there's nothing else to do). Haven't touched bubbly in a week, which in my case deserves a frikken' medal. Or a bottle of Champagne. But going to get rid of this blasted cold first before I get back on my horse. Have been avoiding phone calls from friends in case someone tempts me with an awesome, unturndownable night on the town...

A quiet eveing lies ahead. TV, takeaways... Whilst Lovely Boyfriend is off galavanting around Cape Town, sidekick-less. Which I'm sure he much prefers!

Tomorrow kicks off with a complimentary 'high tea' at the One&Only (a media thing). Am taking Lovely Boyfriend's sister so we can dress up and go gossip our faces off over Lindt chocolate fondants. If my passages decide to clear, then I might replace tea with bubbly. But my ears are so blocked that I am quite literally 'playing it by ear'.

Sunday, Lovely Boyfriend and I are reviewing Tashas in Constantia. I plan on that being my only meal of the day (saving cash) and so am aiming to try the majority of the menu. Lovely Boyfriend is about to witness something he's never before seen.

That's all from me. I'm boring when I'm sick. 

I'm leeeeeeaving, on an Emirates jet plane!

... Don't know if I'll be back again. EVER. I might just never. I'll spend my days lazing on the Naviga (that's the name of the yacht in Turkey), eating fish and drinking imported Champagne (they don't have any on the boat. This is going to be a big problem for me but have arranged for Lovely Boyfriend to sneak some bouteilles over in his small manly suitcase!). Or I might just not make it to Turkey on Saturday having gotten lost in Top Shop on Friday and become one with the rails. Anyway am extremely excited, the only problem is I tend to get unecessarily stressed before going on holiday and end up writing interminable lists with everything I need to do, say, see, touch, breathe, hear, find, lose, think about (you get the idea) before I leave. This could include anything from painting my toenails and sweeping my bedroom, to changing money, charging my camera and making sure I have enough cash for a Starbucks Java Chip Coffee Frappucino in Dubai!

If I manage to put this post up I'll be shocked since the interweb at work has been retardedly temperamental today, meaning I've achieved a total of nothing when I could've been racing around getting things ticked off my list! Anyway my long weekend went something like this. It's a little blurry. Evidently my plan for a healthy-filled break with water, vegetables and exercise didn't go according to plan.

Royal Wedding: took the day off work, dressed up to the nines and sat in a large room filled with prim and proper grannies wearing bold hats and extravagant fascinators. What fascinated Lovely Boyfriend's sister and myself more were the bottomless flutes of bubbly and the large Victorian tea stand of scones piled brilliantly high with fresh cream. We proceeded to sing along to all the hymns, waving our English flags and ogling Prince Harry while the golden oldies looked on distastefully. 

On Saturday I went to the rugby. WOoooooOooOOOOoooo. Go Stormers!!

On Sunday I went to Franschhoek for a little romance, a little veeno tasting, some great food and gorgeous views. Ended up not seeing any views or being able to remember what I had for dinner after a lunch long lunch at Rickety Briudge and an extended afternoon of bubbly tasting at Haute Cabriere. I definitely kept Energade in business yesterday as I bought two of each colour and drank them through the course of the day!

No butts...

So I was sitting in Cubana this weekend, taking great pleasure in my Saturday early-evening view of Hermanus' astonishingly beautiful, glistening ocean and lush, green mountains, when my field of vision was grossly sullied by a man's unwieldly butt cheeks. Why is it that so many men choose the seedy Cubana as destination bachelors?! Said man was wearing a pair of disturbing leather-strapped underwear with buckle, his blushing butt cheeks uncovered and nauseatingly blotchy. Suddenly my chilli poppers lost their appeal, so I ordered another Hunters Dry and turned my focus to booze and rugby. Stormers won so it was a great start to the evening, which consisted of getting as far away from pending bachelor anarchy as possible. Bottle of rose in hand, we headed home to set up Scrabble.

Now, Scrabble for Lovely Boyfriend and myself is not just a game. It's a highly competitive, cutthroat dual. No talking, no laughing, no affection... Pure concentration and an obsessive determination to claim the Scrabble title and win Most Literate, Intelligent and Well-read Significant Other. Unfortunately on this particular night, we finished the rose before we finished the game, and I had to retire to bed since I was slurring half the words I attempted to spell. 

Back to the drawing board for me - my sleeping pill from last night doesn't seem to have quite worn off, which means I'm working at a senile pace this morning... So far I've watered the roses on my desk, eaten a bowl of muesli, written this blog post and planned a promenade walk for after work. Maybe I should get on with it...

Thank GOODNESS it's Friday!

I'm more thankful that it's Friday today than I have ever been in my whole entire life. I would've given up my car, my home, my hair, my fingernails... anything since Tuesday for it to have been Friday. I tried to watch Disney movies (and sung along to Ariel's 'Part of that World'), I went for drinks, I went to dancing, I got my hair done. Nothing made Friday come quicker. Nothing made the time go faster. You know those painful, neverending, torturous weeks where everything has gone wrong... Everything. Well times that by 80 thousand million gazillion and you're right on target. 

It's friday... IT'S FRIDAY! Thank the Arch Bishop and the Pope and the Rabbi that it's Friday. I actually want to send God a bottle of wine or a quiche or a barbershop quartet to thank him for bringing Friday at last. 

Now I'm just counting down the hours so I can go home and open up cold Hunters Dry and then join my amazing, amazing friends for some deliciousness of chilli poppers and many more Hunters Dry at Neighbourhood on Long Street. I will be watching England play Sri Lanka tomorrow and the Stormers play Force in the evening but that is the extent of my weekend's activities. After contemplating the 2OceansVibe party I decided against forking out200 bucks to stand around on the beach and still have to pay a fortune for drinks and food. Not much of an odyssey of a weekend then, but I just need a timeout. I also need a freezocino. Catch me at Caturra.

Long weekend!

It's fabulous Friday! After a shaky start this morning (dinner at the amazing, quaint little Italian Il Leone, accompanied by a bottle of bubbly of course), my freezo sorted out any sign of a hangover and I arrived at work ready to take on the day. Until I glanced at the clock on my screen and realised it was only 9:30 – I feel like I've been here for at least three hours already and was starting to look forward to lunch! Not ideal. I'm thanking my lucky stars that after all the pleading, persuasion and drop-lip I pulled last night after dinner, lovely boyfriend still didn't give in to taking me for a 'quick dance and a drink' somewhere. I was almost pathetically desperate to hit the town – must've been a combination of the heels, the veal, the champagne and the 8th of Italian in me. But I wouldn't have felt too sparkly this morning. But I think it was because I'm heading home tonight (Jo'burg) and I know it's going to be a rather family-orientated weekend, whereas lovely boyfriend is going to be back here with all his best school mates (who are down for the long weekend) painting the town all sorts of colours without his handbreak (that would be me) tagging along. Oh well, if all else fails I shall find somewhere cool to go for the rugby tomorrow night (with my father since he is the only one in my family who cares about rugby in my family) so I can have my routine Hunters Dry wand watch the Stormers annihilate the Bulls – this will have to qualify as my fair share of 'fun' for the weekend.

I had good news this week: I am finally allowed to do what I absolutely love and that is writing restaurant reviews for my magazine's blog. (This means free beverages! Oh.. and meals, of course.) I might also do bar and hotel reviews, and some show reviews considering I have pretty much taken up residence at Artscape since I moved to Cape Town. I also do online book reviews (alert the media!). I would love to post the link for you (of my recent restaurant review) but maybe I shouldn't associate my gorgeous glossy women's fashion and beauty mag with a Champagne-downing, rib-scoffing frequently-hungover rugger bugger with a lifelong dream of being on the stage or in front of a camera. The other day I had to look up what a gilet was. And I don't even use an exfoliator.

Been the insatiable dancing diva I am, I flung myself, far too overenthusiastically, straight into modern dance on Tuesday (having not done it since last year November) and attemped to push myself into the splits after two hours of intense exam work. I am so stiff, even three days later, that I can barely sit down or stand up elt alone walk, and had to ring my flatmate this morning to ask her to pull me out of bed. And dress me...

 This does not bode well for me since I'm signed up for an advanced contemporary class tomorrow morning. Could be interesting.

Have a great weekend. Joburg awaits me. Oh and - ENGLAND WON THE CRICKET!

Back in the game!

I'm back! Sorry I've been AWOL. On Monday I was still feeling the after-effects of Saturday's highly eventful and out-of-control cruise and hotel night. I think it's safe to say I worked my way through at least five bottles of Champagne (to myself) over the course of the day – from 11am until about midnight. I have a distant memory of lying on a flourescent pink lilo, gripping a flute of rose bubbly, and attempting to sing along to a tune that actually didn't have any words, wearing a sailor's hat and a mismatched bikini.

Even after an entire day embedded in the sofa, I still felt like I was suffering from a life-threatening, incurable third-world virus on Sunday evening and lay motionless and mute next to lovely boyfriend as we tried to keep down some ribs. 

So Monday morning I arrived at work pallid and forlorn, feeling as if I hadn't slept since last year November, and had run a half marathon a few hours before. Tuesday, I got philosophical and decided that I wasn't quite satisfied with life – after effects of the alcohol? I don't know – and wanted more out of it, so I began signing up to agencies so I can have my turn in the limelight, which I have decided is long overdue. Wednesday I started to feel human again but still felt like I had no purpose in life. Saturn return? Again, I don't know.

Today I arrived feeling sprightly. Have worked hard and am ready for a drink this evening. The verdict?: I'm getting old. It officially takes me three days to get over a big night. How did I do it  consecutively back in the day? What did I have then that I don't now?

Looking forward to the watching the Stormers thrash the Highlanders tomorrow, and then a relaxing day on Sunday while all the delusional people in Cape Town wake up at 5am, get on a private-part-torturing bike for a stupid number of kilometres and ride till their legs cramp or just fall off. Me, I'll be by the pool with a freezocino :)

Over and out.