It has been a rather significant while since I bloggeled u all an update! So strap on yr reading glasses, throw yr morals out the window and let’s get involved…
Right, so where to start. Well – the weekend of my journey back home to the land of milk and honey is a good place. Friday dawned, and I was rather tired. My bag was partially packed and did not contain any vitals such as toiletries, underwears and few shorts. So, I decided to go out to my friend’s 30th birthday party in Greenside. No pressure. One drink, return home before 1am and finish packing, sleep, then leave for airport to fly to Zim at 9am. (I know – I should have learnt by now NOT to book a morning flight on a Saturday…) At Greenside, life was chilled, I had my one Malibu and coke and was taking it easy. Then, I was informed of a kicking house party that I just must attend. So I did. And did I ever take full advantage of the cheap bar! Strangely enough I knew most ppl at the party and things got messy. I was drinking straight brandy shots; mixes of tequila + vodka + brandy and Jager (in one glass!); double vodkas and red bull… and this was not the nice, quality vodka I am used too. Needless to say, it wasn’t long before I was babbling my way around the party, touching the partially clothed men inappropriately, offering my shake-n-bake services to all willing persons and trying to convince some jocks to get me a glow-stick form the bottom of the pool as I just wasn’t “Dressed for swimming!”… As I consumed more of said inebriation fluid, the dreaded kleptomaniac reared itself within me and I was found rifling through the kitchen draws and cupboard at one point. I seem to have an affinity for muffin trays and spatulas… (?) (!!!) The normal collecting of half finished drinks was undertaken most pedantically by me. Much to the disgust of my friends who only discovered that half of what I was giving them to drink I had randomly collected around the garden…. Thankfully, my rather hammered friends plied said kitchen equipments from my hands and told me to stop eating the random people’s cheese out of the fridge and to come home. They then decided I was safe to be left unsupervised while they did all sorts of lewd behaviours with some rather tasty spamonis… Left to my own devices, I managed to apprehend ALL of the alcohol marketing paraphernalia that wasn’t nailed to the wall of floor and load it most carefully onto the backseat of my friends mini where I waited patiently for her return! We did return to Greenside, but my memory fails me… all I know is my performance was morally reprehensible but has provided weeks of entertainment to those who bore witness! [Only a pleasure to be of service].
I returned home at 5am – a mere 2 hours before I needed to leave and decided I had enough time to get some rest. I slept through 2 alarms, 3 phonecalls and 4 SMSs before my digsmate came screaming into my room that it was half 7 and we were already meant to be at the airport. In 5 mins, I had hurled half my shower contents, some random clothing, a few more socks, my hair straightener into my bag and managed to look moderately alive. I made the flight … with minutes to spare. After falling about duty free drunk, I boarded, and this is where the pleasantries end. Within the closed cabin, no sleep, hangover kicking in, tequila nausea washing over me, cold - probably 80% alcoholic - sweat running down my temples, I spent half the flight home hugging the in-flight toilet bowl. Not pleasant at all. It didn’t help that my T-shirt quoted: “moderation is overrated” and it was varsity holidays – people were not short of disapproving looks in my direction as I hurriedly rushed back and forth to and from the bathroom! At least I live by my motto – Moderation is OVERRATED! Sadly though, I hadn’t packed any shorts and Zim was a smouldering 35 degrees the entire time I was home and I hadn’t packed a razor, shaving cream, toothbrush or face wash… epic fail!
Zim was tame. No scandal there, despite my best efforts to slore myself across the capital city! There was one potential goldfish I went to school with who recently stepped out of narnia… I had plans to get my flirt on and have them eating out of the palm of my hands seeing as I had always thought he was just so very very pretty – even at school when we both lived in a world of denial. But, when you know, you just know, and I had always known about him – it was just a matter of time! Well, he dispersed to joburg shortly after my arrival and the said flirting and hoped for shake-n-baking never came to fruition… but, there is still time! (and I shall leave it at that because faaaaaar too many people who stumble upon these little updates know him well…)
I returned to joburg a sober and dry individual and had no desire to drink or party... I did go out in my first week back, but didn’t touch a drop. Strangely this didn’t phase me. Had I become a changed goldfish. Had I seen the light? Was this what post-rehab feels like…? It lasted till my first Saturday back when I arrived – dry as a goat’s hoof – at my favourite establishment: Billys - at 1am and decided it was either go molest or go home. I went molest. After slamming 4 tequilas, 2 jagers, some Malibu and mixes the old Little Goldfish popped right back into place… and BAM!!! With my two wingwoman in tow, I wreaked havoc amongst the spamonis. I made new BFFs, had an argument about the difference between a tie and a cravate in the middle of the dancefloor with a 6ft jock, hit on obviously-straight men, had eye-sex with a closeted goldfish from my Rhodent days, spilt my drinks, table barred, encouraged my women friends to rape and pillage the village… and that was all inside! Once outside, we decided we needed foooooooooooooooooood so off we trundled to the 24hr drive-in. After proceeding the incorrect way around the drive in and ordering through the passenger window, we munched our chips and dips and mix of rolls and milkshakes in the car park under the romantic light of a harshly fluorescent street light. During this period we managed to phone many a shake-n-bake of the girls’ from the night and invited them all over for a pool party. Then, upon remembering our recent body corporate noise-warning had to call them all back to cancel said pool party… besides, our pool more closely resembled a pond anyway!
Upon rising (late) on Sunday it was noted that we had much paraphernalia from various establishments we had visited in the night that I don’t remember collecting… oh well – POPO shut us down. Haha!
And, because I love to party-karate, screw the aforementioned sobriety and retiring from the pAArty scene… Little Goldfish is back with a BAM and is hunting to kill! Alright ladies (queens), gird yr loins. Daddy’s got a whole new flavour of shake-n-bake!
SPAMONI … u have been warned!!!!
BAM!
PS: Eagerly await a new post on this past weekend (16-19 April) when things got rabidly out of hand! double BAM!
