The Little Goldfish and The Dragon & other adventures

Figure 1. My view of the dragon-bitch lady with a carrot up her ass who lives in our complex

Friday night – OUT.OF.PROPORTION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BAM!

As designated driver (DD) I remained sober all night. And yes, I did actually remain sober. I only had two drinks… and no, they were not two shots of stroh rum. They were two brutal fruities. Strawberry actually. Berrylicious baby! But yes, this was a joburg DD where one remains upright and can actually pass a breathalyzer and not a Rhodes DD where u get equally as pissed as (if not more so than) yr passengers and are only DD due to three reasons:

1. U have the car keys
2. U are the only one capable of managing to get the keys into the ignition (number of attempts is not taken into consideration)
3. U are the only one who is not sucking face with a Friar’s discount special.

Back to Friday night. DD sobriety experienced Billy’s. Elegantly wasted – not me though. But the others were. And boy, did they rape and pillage the stocks of men. Although, with them being so pretty, it was like bombing fish in a barrel with dynamite! The men were flocking round them like sharks to a chum barrel. Dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun!!!

So we end Friday night by returning home at 3am and inviting a minimal number (Five) friends around for post-drinks. Yes, there was very mild and soft music. Yes, there were ppl drunkenly bablling on the verandah. But NO, we were not hosting a massive drug infested rave party with blasting music. So, only 10 minutes after getting home – yes, just ten minutes – I hear “GUYS!” and turn to see standing in the dark, some old hag in a billowing burgundy dressing gown with hideaous bed hair, saggy eyes (and boobs) AND fluffy slippers. [See Figure 1 Above]. Being sober, I walk up to her and then get told: You (referring predominantly to me) are fucking immature, fucking pathetic, fucking disgraceful, behaving like fucking children and have pissed her off because she has to fucking work on Saturday (not my problem her job sucks balls and she works on weekends) and has to fucking deal with such immaturity. (There were many many more fuckings thrown into her defamatory remarks venomously thrown at me and my friends). Oooo, silly dragon bitch crossed a line! It’s full scale WAR in the complex now. And boy, did she pick the wrong goldfish to piss-the-hell-off. All I did was profusely and politely apologise – numerous times – and promise her to usher everyone inside and quiet them down (which I did). There was no need for her to be so rude, crass, defamatory and outrightly bitchy. Just because she is fat and ugly and her husband is having an affair and her dildo is clearly out of batteries gives her no right to behave in such a manner. And to threaten to call the popo on our asses too. The cheek of it all! She’s lucky I have refrained from pissing on her doorstep – for now. But house parties are in FULL swing! And I mean open invite house parties. If she wants noise to complain about then that’s what she’s gonna get… I’ve taken on bigger institutions than her and her bad hair. Lock-n-load bitch. Coz next time, I’m gonna be dronk-a-lonk and will tell u exactly where to shove yr fat ass! Bitch! Noise my ass. Let’s not mention the neighbour’s house parties that go on till 3am on weeknights with pumping dirty house music and the brattish children that run screaming like wild savages up and down the complex’s roads on their rattling and scraping plastic motorcycles at godforsaken 7am on a Saturday and Sunday. She’s never complained about that… yoh. I’ll just woosa and let it go.

Anyways, Saturday was followed by a BRILLIANT champers lunch and WILD house party with LOUD music and 30 ppl! BAM! And did I ever inebriate myself on tequila. Till I was blurredly stumbling round the house and in billy’s. Elegantly wasted!!! Hehe. Following innumerable tequilas at billy’s I realized I needed to call on Captain Tactical. Stumbling into some deserted car park I conveniently found a drain and a tap. (how convenient!!!!!) And just as 4 years at Rhodes had taught me, I summoned captain tactical and went alco-limic (alcoholism + bulimic). After a wonderfully sobering chunda, I washed my hands, threw in a handful of gum straightened my shirt and scrambled back into billy’s for more shooters!!! Back in the game! BAM!

Ended up at risqy in a mildly inebriated manner and bounced thru the crowds like an ADD goldfish. Hotties were slut-rubbed, introduced to, judged, and then left wanting as I got distracted by music or the allure of more tequila (I know. MORE tequila. Like WTF!?! Someone slap me!). Then, I met someone. Hmmm. I know, another risqué man… but this one is from middle-of-nowhere in limpopo somewhere. HOTT – well, not drop dead gorge but tres manly and buff and very attractive. A bit shy at first. But warmed up and is super clever (arcturial science at Potch Uni!). Super witty and super fascinating. I’m smitten. All we did was talk. And occasionally score. But my god, is he clever and funny and fascinating and does he just smell absolutely dEEEvine! Thank-you lacoste!! He even came for tea before he returned to middle-of-nowhere town on Sunday afternoon. We talked and talked and time flew by! WOW! I just sit and actually listen to him and laugh (normally I don’t listen to the irrelevant ramblings of goldfish and just give them attention so they think I’m listening or like them). Very sad he’s gone now. L But, in true slore style - NEXT. Time for date with the accountant goldfish this week. But honestly, I know I don’t really really like this one in the I want to date u way, and I’d easily choose the new goldfish over this one, but I think I’m trying to convince myself and see if I like this goldfish. We’ll see… Dammit. I really like this new goldfish. I keep thinking of him. Ah – smiles. J

Dear Universe/santa/easter bunny: Seriously. wtf. Why must the goldfish be living in a pond so far-far-away?? May I place an order for him to be delivered to me… thanks hey. Luff Little Goldfish. Kisses dahl! MWA!

PS: Santa, I CAN explain! No really, I can. It was the stroh rum and/or jack that made me do it…

Other than all the above debauchery I’m into another week. Feeling hungover - Hell yes! Sometimes I love my life!

On a more serious note. 2010 is looming. I may or may not be employed. I don’t like enviro sci – but do i? I dunno. “To jobs that pay the rent!” - ??????????????????? Study more? Get Boyfriend? Finally fix myself? Gosh. So many thingies. So much to ignore whilst partying.

BAM!