Came, Saw, Conquered!!

Ooh, nothing like killing about 4 birds with one stone!

Confused? I’ll enlighten you. It was a weekend night (that starts with an S, the other one, the one on which Christians like to hang out together), we went out to a place that you can call ‘the usual spot’, the bartenders know what you want so you don’t have holler at them like the rest of the crowd.  That’s besides the point, my night turned into an episode of Sex and The City meets Gossip Girl (seriously). Don’t want to go into too much detail but I was greeted by a person who is already hard to like with a dirty look ‘smile’, of course in all my politeness and not giving the person the satisfaction of making me uncomfortable, I smiled back. I’m still not sure if it was a real smile but it did the trick. Fast-forward less than a minute later, walking strutting with drinks in hand to see the live jazz band,  meeting friends, having a jam. Bird 1-injured.

Oh by the way, it’s been a fucking long time since we saw a good jazz band, the bassist knew he was good, and he showed it by playing and playing and playing until the other two band members had to randomly join just to stop him get a chance to show off their skills too. A live freestyle performance will always be interrupted by a drunk and lively character in the audience, one of these was a cool girl who looks like your aunt but acts like your crazy best friend, she kept singing some one liner from a popular kwaito song. Funny in the beginning but slowly worked its way into annoying and disrespectful, but I guess it’s all part of the fun. A while later we all sat at a table and talked shit about everything, refreshing talking to people you haven’t seen in a while. Here I also got glances from this non-stranger, which left me thinking ‘when are you going to quit?’. Here I am trying to dodge a conversation about maize, yes MAIZE, apparently that is the latest important thing to talk about, this is obviously new to me since the maize we (my fiance and I) eat is cous cous from Morocco or Italy or something. Anyway how does one dodge a conversation? Sipping your drink, smoking your cigarette and scanning the crowd, which means getting scanned too, oh the joy (sarcasm).

Before I carry on, I must mention Bird 2: Being way hotter than your ‘arch nemesis’, hotter, well dressed, polite, intelligent, the fucking works. Need I say that I immediately removed that label from that person because anyone who knows me, knows that I’ll only accept a person as my arch nemesis if they’re in my league. Am I wrong? No I’m not, think about it, there’s no point in Giselle Bundchen-Brady calling Tyra Banks an arch nemesis, it’s a waste, Giselle is a million times hottter, and is always tops whereas Tyra is a has been, and always wears too much eye shadow! See what I mean? Bird 2 status-smashed into a million little pieces.

Ooh we had a good dance, like in the movies haha. We had a friendly chat with the band’s drummer who turned out to be a familiar face to my fiance, and I had a friendly chat with the girl with the thrift shop racks selling everything I wouldn’t wear until That 70’s Show reunion party. But she’s a cool, chilled out person and she’s developed a lot of poise since the last time I saw her, ‘You go girl!’.

Bird 3 is a nice bird, it’s the bird that can’t fly and makes good chicken wings! Yummy. This is the one person who got on my nerves for not acknowledging important current situations. Fine, you’re kind of annoying but we can actually get along and I’d understand what you were saying more often if it wasn’t for your ghetto accent, but I can appreciate that you’re not completely rude, even though you have your moments. Win! Bird 3 status- killed and eaten. lol. And I guess you can’t stop people from copying your make-up.

Bird 4- Going out with my lovely fiance, meeting friends, dancing and having a ball. Since that was the point, but like a good hunter, you always recognise your other successes especially if you’re using the same weapon! You can have so many asses kicked in one night, politely of course. Cheers to partying like a betch and being a good hunter ūüėČ . Cheers to my snobs!



Gossip Girl Season 4

Excuse me. I know it’s been a while, I’ve had what I actually don’t mind calling ‘writer’s block’, the external kind. The kind that’s most annoying, like “Why am I sitting in this room with this girl, she’s like quite literally staring at my back (and sometimes at my front) and it’s truly annoying being stalked by the present past who is, like, staring at my back (did I say that?okay).” Once I beat that with the classic (figurative),”You can’t sit with us!”, it was cool. So hey, the snob is back.

Also, I was writing about something-you’ll see later- when it mysteriously didn’t get published. That pissed me the fuck off, I had posting trauma for like, two days! Scary stuff, putting in so much effort just for shit to get deleted. Anyway I’m sick of writing about how the internet has been BETRAYING me ( so I’ll stop.

Ooh yesterday, my friend (who’s in he city for a month) and I texted about fashion and clothing and shoes and accessories and other girl stuff almost the whole fucking day! If you read my post about Spring you must know that this friend is actually a PERSON and not a season. Moving right along, I forgot that I could do that! Seriously, it’s fun. it’s like smoking an exclusive girl power/fashion joint! It’s a little evil army of terror candy-coated in prettiness, giggles and ‘oh my gosh, you won’t believe!’. Speaking of things that you oh my gosh won’t believe . . . Of course you won’t, because that kind of conversation is exclusive,duh! What you should know are that those things make us fucking crazy! The official, diagnosed kind, not that anyone ever notices. OCD and paranoia do just fine in society, hence the show Gossip Girl, oh and our lovely friends HELP us become crazy by letting us know we aren’t crazy,”Oh my gosh, I totally understand!”. It’s ironic, but it works. It’s something that makes us high maintenance, fast talking, fast thinking, bitch slapping Queen B’s instead of the doormat, do everything that you say,’does my ass look fat in this?’,walk all over me, annoying girls that guys with low self esteem like. See? Good. My best friend’s head is full of secrets and it’s inflating, she gets to minimize when she tells me though. See what I mean?

Welcome To My Clique, Spring!

I’ve kept you waiting haven’t I? Well so has Spring.

Spring is the girl who joins my clique every year, she goes on international vacations and sends me photos through, Fashion TV . . . pretty much everywhere. I just sit back in awe, letting her be her socialite self until she comes to my city and joins my clique.

She’s always welcome. This year, and for a while now, she’s been rocking up with her closet full of European fashion trends- pastel colours, tribal patterns, bold brights and new hemlines, except this time she’s totally wearing sheer and cut-outs everywhere, has these new platform cut-out wedges and ‘oh my gosh’ she’s totally making tailored the new sexy. Forget mini-skirts and what not, she’s wearing her ¬†fancy lingerie under her sheer mid-calf length dress. Basically she’s almost naked but she’s making it classy. No bandage dress,no platform stilettos, no obvious, obnoxious display of trashy sexuality, she wants you to read between the lines. Bright, candy-coloured nail polish? She doesn’t really care, you can feel any way/colour in Spring.

Don’t forget she’s a total social butterfly, she’ll be a reggae-loving hippy and a hardcore punk in one day, she’ll headbang, skank and boogie or sway when the time is right. She might be hung over ¬†and cranky in the heat of the morning, but her iced (alcohol infused) coffee or tea will snap her back to bubbly BFF. She dresses up to everywhere because everyday is a fashion show and you only live once, at least show off that style and hot bod while you’re willing to (while you CAN is a different fat and desperate story, she’s not planning to get fat).

Speaking of hot bods¬†and¬†not ever getting¬†fat-¬†this chick is fucking serious when it comes to the art of ‘show off’. First of all, she doesn’t ‘show off’ anything that’s fat,¬†undertoned¬†or unshaved or¬†un-exfoliated. While she’s in Europe and the US, I ¬†tone, starve (haha yeah right) and groom like a completely¬†self-obsessed¬†Moor-¬†as in dipilitating pretty much everyday, exfoliating pretty much everyday and getting used to leaves, light pastas and sparkling wines or vodka as meals. They’ll be lots of hang outs where these things are staple ‘foods’ and she’ll let us keep our fuck off/fuck that/hung over attitude while still being a great person to have in company.

Man! I love Spring! Totally high maintenance, totally stylish, totally frank, social and bubbly and obviously hot as fuck. Higher your standards everyone- My Spring betch is here!!!

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Just My Luck or just nature.

So how ironic is this?

Just as I’m about to write about the lovely Spring, it gets overcast and starts raining. Sigh . . . I must admit, I was as ecstatic about the rain as a desert creature, it hadn’t rained for like 3 months or something, and for someone who has a garden to look after, it’s fucking rad that mother nature can just rock up and babysit for you!

How’s it that new additions to a situation inspire some type of negative emotional or social indulgence? Like the new friend in a group kinda starts the Queen B’s spiral of uncontrollable bitchiness or the new employee inspires the manager to be an uber-bossy-bitch (followed by the rest of the employees).

It’s actually a disturbing pattern. Even worse when no one wants to be confronted about their behavior and in that way, everyone is just forced to walk around pissed the fuck off and out of their element.

You know, if you’re not ever going to talk about it, it’s never going away,duh.

Then we pretend like nothing’s wrong but when we see someone in a shit mood we ask, “What’s wrong?” knowing very fucking well that we don’t want to fucking hear it.

At least some have the guts to confront it, we need mutual guts to find a solution and in the end we all just need to grow the fuck up.

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