Just know this before I start – I spent the first half of my morning writing this blog post. As I pressed 'send' the whole retarded page disappeared and I was left with a blank page and a bad mood.
Round 2:
Ok first things first. I'm the new advanced tapper on the blog (get it? On the block/on the blog), what with my three whopping distinctions for my tap exams!
Now that I've got the gloating out the way I'll tell you about my weekend. I must apologise for the lack of post last week. But I looked a little something like this, bar the violet-coloured face:
I had tap syllabus coming out my ears, and was editing the sh*t out of the magazine to meet deadline. Rehearsing 3 hours a night after a full day's work is one way to run you down. And yes, I'm now sick, in case you were asking. But I think I can attribute that to this past weekend's ungovernable antics.
The weekend was off to a bad start. I skipped with elation out my tap exams only to find that some complete moronic airhead had rammed into my car then buggered off without a note. This left me reeling ferociously to say the least and I gulped down my bubbly rather aggressively at dinner. One glass lead to a bottle at the revolting Decodance, where I realised the following 3 things: I hate 80s music, I hate the club and I hate the person who hit my car. Whatever remains of good mood I had vanished with the last sip of Champagne and I promptly departed with my ex-flatmate.
Saturday morning: pounding headache. Bad headache had to accompany me to Kirstenhof Police Station to get a case number for my car. Aggravated by the excursion, bad headache escalated into severe migraine. Only after 2 Energades, 2 myprodol and an hour's nap did it decide to take leave and allow me to make the necessary preparations (Operation 'Erase any signs of hangover') for the wedding I had to attend that afternoon.
Arrived at wedding not wearing the appropriate attire to fend of Cape Town's glacial winds and slowly turned a brilliant shade of royal blue as I sat through the ceremony. Finally got feeling back in toes and feet on arrival at the Mount Nelson for the reception, thanks to a shot glass of warm sweet sherry and I proceeded to stuff my face with tempura prawns. Think waiter thought he was being stalked since I trailed him and his tray of delicacies around the room for a good hour until Lovely Boyfriend said I was scaring the guests.
Bubbly kept me going through speeches and a good deal of twists and turns to my good ol' faves: Nat King Cole, Frankie S and Glen Miller. I returned to the table to find that no one had eaten their desserts. Three creme brulees later I told Lovely Boyfriend that I had to get home immediately or I was going to curl up in the bride's train (which looked remarkably like my duck-down duvet) and klap a snooze.
So now I'm sick. I think it was the attempt at a gym session then running home in the rain that was the final straw for my poor body. So I'm taking a week off from any social activities. This excludes freezocino outings.
