The Snob and The Social Reflex: Part Un

Am I frowning? But, boy, is it bright . . . Oh right, I have shades on. Am I still frowning?Urgh, it’s the public.


Please feel free to mention how absolutely dressed down I am, blending in so as to not have to garner any unsolicited attention from locals.Yeah right. We know the only blending in I’m good at is the blending in that involves the bronzer on my cheekbones and the blush on my cheeks. Now THAT’S what I call a natural transition. Do you think maybe I should’ve highlighted just above the cheekbone? Or a darker contour in the . . . Well, contour above my jawline. Hold on, I’m veering off.

Does it help that my schedule won’t allow for me to manage these cuticles, and so yes, they’ve got my attention in this place, surrounded by people who could also probably use a manicure. What an utterly boring distraction. When am I getting a grooming buddy?

So last November, I got myself (after much consideration and motivation from two of the closest non-women in my life, never again) a pair of sneakers!!!! *Gasp* Yes, sneakers. Why am I gasping? Why aren’t you? Well, you see I haven’t owned a sneaker since 5 years ago when it made sense to be so colloquially dressed, walking about, identifying as young and carefree. Of course, the pairs were well embellished. One, black padded quilting like a Chanel purse, the other with pink accents and a pink sole, and the other, a regular Converse high-top except for the doodles/grafitti that it was decorated with. Yes, they were all bought like that, picked out of a selection of bland running shoes. You see, I don’t think sneakers are shoes, I think of them as more of a necessary tool, like prescription medication (shoes for like, running and stuff?). So planning my outfits around these sneakers gave me a bit of a headache. Not to mention I had to learn how to walk in them, how ironic. Bite me.

So this is world’s apart from the postural exercise I’m used to. The ‘tuck in your butt, point your toes, drop your shoulders, hold in your core, hold your gaze in a thin, long imaginary line shooting straight forward’.

fancy outfit and sneakers

Nope. It’s basically ‘walk’. I found myself lifting my heel for no reason, arch-less, ball-less, stepping of the one foot followed by the other. Like . . . A boy.

Hey hey! The plus side. I can walk REALY fast, heck I can run! Do you know how exciting that is? Other than the fact that I might NEED to run (from something/someone, most likely for something, like a bus, out of the way of an asshole driver (read: right of way) or because I’m in a hurry or all of a sudden I realise that if I run now, I won’t have do those lunges later!). Reality is such a pain in the bunion.


Sigh, anyway. Or whatever. Sneakers.

They make feel a little less poised than I want to (maybe ought to) feel, a little less feminine, a little less entitled, a little . . . Low maintenance. Like a sliding door as opposed to a vault. Like an A4 page with a feint and margin as opposed to a taupe woodgrain wallpaper sprawling across 5metres . . . Like I can’t be excused for not knowing the meaning of the new slang word doing the rounds. Like ice, melting in a glass of room temperature water . . . And my feet still hurt.


They also make me feel like I should know the lyrics to A$AP Rocky/Drake/Kanye songs or perhaps just the names of pop artists and their shenanigans to begin with (Getting there), they make me feel like I can actually dance in a place other than in front of the mirror in my room. They make me feel like I’m drinking, like a lot more water than I am, they make me feel like college kid identifying as young and I guess I sort of am. It’s as if I’m not wearing shoes . . . I won’t repeat that prescription part, you know what I mean.

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I will never complain about the glamorous discomfort that heels provide, about the sway aiding the one already created by my waist-to-hip ratio, about the stuttering footsteps, the walking carefully down a flight of stairs, the hand I might need getting across badly maintained pavements, the sloth pace, not even the ankle I might break by walking carelessly. I mean, I said “never” right? Like, what do you want from me?

Shout out to all the snobs who drab away in flat colloquial shoes for necessity only to get home and slip on your favourite pair of heels to maintain that sought after arch in your foot and just revel in wearing something that was made for poise, statement and flair. Until your whole schedule of excuses to wear heels fills up, soak it all in.

And the next time you go out for a jol and your insensitive friend (we all have one) tries to hurry you, followed by, “Why are you wearing heels?” you have my go ahead to answer in a mini tantrum “Because I FUCKING WANT TO!”. Just do it.

P.S. Pictures of other people because I mean, I’m not ready to be photographed with sneakers on, like . . . Also, they are killing it. Go girls.

Over and (running) out.

The Snob.


We Started a Sorority!!

I know right? Totally weird!

We don’t have sororities in this country, the best we can do is ‘Committee’. Anyway, it started like this: My dear friend, San invited me as her Plus 1 to a dinner party and knowing me, I got all dressed up and nervous/excited (meeting new people-cringe). For the first time in our fucking lives, San and I got there early (as in too early) faced with just two other girls, asking establishing questions that turned out to be quite awkward. Each of us having our turn to demolish the awkward silences, but that kinda died out quickly as we got to talking about Lady Gaga’s cancelled tour and gushing about iced tea! 

Okay this is the weird part, for me at least. No bottles of champagne . . . There were jelly babies marinating in what looked like a single shot of Chocolate Vodka. Eventually, and I have no idea how, but we started playing ping pong/table tennis (I stayed away because my hand to eye co-ordination has been dormant since high school ended).I decided to take videos of this (no you can’t see.) The girls kept rolling in something like every hour in groups of three or four, so that pin pong became 10 people revolving around a table like sushi. I’ve actually never seen so many (sober) people running and laughing AND playing ping pong at a time in my life! It was . . . pure mind-fuckery. After everyone mutually decide not to stink up the place with body odour (it was freaking hot as well), the weather cooled down and 30 seconds was in order. San and I would’ve won this one except that by the time we all got outside, the girls started speaking about how many bushes we were surrounded by and then something like 15 people having conversations started about how we should play ‘block whatever’ or as I know it- Hide and Seek. Did I mention that bats started flying around? No really, actual fruit eating BATS! It only took one person to say “Oh my Gosh!BATS!” and we were back to being distracted for a whole fifteen minutes. staring and ducking in awe of these tiny scary creatures! AHHH!

Hide and seek is hard work man! I haven’t ran so fast in ages! Damn, I suck at being a kid! So much. And I was the first person out in that hand-game “There’s a party ’round the corner, would you please please come, bring your own cup and saucer and your own jelly tots” . . . But that was foul play! FOUL PLAY girls! I’ll get you back, mwahahaha *tilts-head-back*. Eventually I decided I had to smoke! Seriously, I was gritting my teeth for like, three hours! That’s when I got to speak to Lauren, who is also a smoker (thank GOD!) and a really cool,chilled out girl. After warming up by all becoming twelve-year-old girls, everyone got to talking around a dinner table (And also after my worried self smoking six ciagrettes in a row). More girls came by that time as well. I got to a table already bubbling with conversation and the dessert to food ratio was 5/2, classic! I didn’t mention before, but 90% of these girls were in Med school! Yes, they’re studying MEDICINE! So, Alcohol-zero, until it got passed around in the form of Amarula with custard and ice-cream.I kept saying, “Oh my gosh, you need a mic to speak at this table!” Words said to me by another person ruined my appetite so I just had jelly and I didn’t bother with the custard and ice- cream mix, just the cute two shots of Amarula.

Either way, the conversations were lovely, this is the part where I test my memory with names . . . Lauren! Love her, so understated but so real and she was the only other twenty one- year-old other than San and I; Ashley with the pretty hazel eyes; Amy, such a cool athletic girl who also has a blog; Natalia never talks shit when her mouth opens; Vee, a really interesting girl, could speak to her for hours; Musa and Sasa are TWINS, they were so bubbly, just balls of energy; Jemma, the sassy white girl, haha and you’d never think that just by looking at her; Winnie, cutest laugh ever and she wore this pretty floral dress; Joyner is tall as fuck and also laughy. I don’t know how to spell some of these names ūüė¶ but anyway, Charzia, she know how much I loved her fringed dress; Ray was really quiet, really quiet; Larissa with a husky voice who kept doing these funny accents, haha; Chaiste, it’s pronounced ‘Shay-ste’ (it’s probably not even spelt like that) it’s got to be the most amazing name I’ve heard this year and she wore this flared floral top and pink lip gloss that just STAYED; Madihah, Maddy for short, there is really a Buddha in that girl,she’s so calm; Sam, the only Asian, she came really late, didn’t get to talk to her but she seems cool. I hope I’m not leaving anyone out, but that’s the whole sorority! Was fun being twelve again. I’m pretty sure we’ve made a sorority, there’s no breaking ‘the sisterhood’. It was also for my friend, San to get to know the girls she has classes with, so cute! We should do it again, next time Doll’s way.


The Snob

Walk In’s


This is probably going to be a weird post, unless you’re either like me or completely stoned. Not that I’m stoned just that stoners ‘get me’.

It’s not exactly about ‘walk in’s except that it might end up being. Ideally, it’s supposed to end up being about ‘walk in’s because that’s the title right? And if it isn’t then you’ll have a laugh and enjoy reading this (hopefully) because I’m not really planning to edit it for subject matter.

Awww I’m listening to Vanilla Fudge – I LOVE FUCKING VANILLA FUDGE! Anyway I was thinking about walk in situations, whether you walk into a conversation or walk into someone you know or any walk in, the point is -that shit is always funny or awkward or just plain weird. Okay well, for starters Vanilla Fudge isn’t playing anymore because someone walked in and asked for it to shut up, classic moment. Let’s categorize . . .

The “what are you doing?”: If you haven’t experienced this one, you must be less than a year old, really. We’ve all had that one, sorry for you if that happened when you were masturbating and your mom walked in. You poor thing. Perhaps you were hiding your stash under the bed in which case you suddenly utter, “Uh I dropped . . . A coin, I think it’s somewhere here”, you can’t ever get through any of it unless ¬†you generally have one facial expression, if that’s not the case you’d have gone all crimson or pale as in BUSTED! In my case, the “What are you doing?” doesn’t happen anymore, but it’s rough and it takes a while for it to turn into a joke. Just imagine two weeks later jokingly saying, “Hey remember that day you caught me hiding that paper that I was going to stick into my diary and you demanded I give it to you, and then you read it and figured that I think of you as Godzilla! Ahahaha!”, so not fucking funny. It’s been like, three years and it’s still not funny. Ooh and the time I hid my syringe (without a needle) just because it was a party idea, like lets have shots through a syringe. Parents will think that you’re on drugs before they think you’re a rad as fuck innovative party planner!

The “So what are you guys talking about?”: Yeah you have no idea that we just called you a fugly-fashion-zombie when you went to the bathroom and now you’re back . . . So we say “We were JUST talking about how stressed Jerry is with his new job . . .” and Jerry is like, “Yeah, so stressed, like oh my gosh, I forgot what it’s like to sleep”. It’s worse when the question is in your facial expression than you actually asking it. Sometimes it’s cool because you can just walk in there and be like “Yeah I know right?”, join the current and flow with it! My friends used to do this thing where they’d walk in and say, “I like grapes”, just to exaggerate the awkward moment. You know when you walk into a touchy subject that you’ll be faced with absolute deafening silence, but that’s okay. Give people space and go fiddle with your eyebrows or paint your nails . . . Again.

The “Two (insert word) walk into a bar . . .”: This is the one I most relate to. In my case it’s mostly “Two very well dressed people walk in a bar”. Not to blow my own horn, but most people go to places looking like turds. Either they’ve tried too hard or haven’t tried at all or even tried to look so bad or good that it shows (and it shows like a turd). For a person who understands and studies fashion, lifestyles and movements, it’s easy to see right through the fakes and posers and badly dressed idiots who are out to please and fit in with the rest of the idiots. Also in place of the (insert word) are the ‘teenagers’, ‘hipsters’, ‘goths’, ‘hoodrats’, ‘hoboes’, ‘white people‘, ‘models’, ‘black people’, ‘asians’, ‘mixed couple’, ‘hot girls’, ‘fugly girls’ etc. It all depends where you are and you’ll always know when you’re the two (insert word) that walks into a bar.

The “Oh my gosh, is that . . .?”:¬†It’s always a ‘Holy shit’ or a ‘Yay!’ and both of these have their in-betweens. Like, the girl you partied with last Summer is around, you’ve been texting and now you can talk about all the bullshit and trash the place. If it’s a so-called celebrity, no one ever really cares. Or it’s that bitch you had a public feud with and all you both say is, “Hi, so how are things?”- awkward. I mean, they can be the best thing or the worst. Weird one is where you’re like, “Oh my gosh, is that Jenna?” and by this time you’re fucking more than convinced it’s your dear friend, Jenna, even though you can only see her back . . . You run up to her like a teen girl running to Bieber and shout “Oh my gosh, Jenna!” and then you realise she isn’t Jenna, ouch . . .

The “Look what the cat dragged in”: This one is always annoying, all of a sudden your feet feel the pain that they’re in. You get slapped stone cold sober or feel like you had you’ve had about twenty shots in one go. I’ve seen this happen with other people, their noses seem to automatically reach for the ceiling, you can determine whether it’s ‘We’re better than you’ or ‘We can’t see you’. By this time, that person realises this and hides! Shit is weird.

The “LMAO and ROTFL: Like in college when someone walks into the wrong class with an entrance of note and you all know you’ve never seen that face before, like when someone walks in with something on their face or just after running during a beastly wind. Actually sometimes you’re just as confused as the funny person, because you’re thinking “Oh my gosh, your face looks like it’s been photoshopped, is your mirror blur?” or “Really now, why’d you have to dye your hair THAT colour?”. Hmm, you don’t want to be the main character in the “LMAO/ROTFL” walk in and if you are, make it iconic.

The “Thank God you’re here!”: Haha, this one is classic. Isn’t this the theme of most house parties? It’s supposed to be all cosy and warm except that it’s almost ice cold because you don’t know anyone there (because everyone invited their friend’s friend’s friends) and the host is making out with a random in the garden. That’s when the “Two (insert word) walk into (not) ¬†a bar comes in handy. If you’re interesting enough, people will ask where you got your shoes, but then you’re still talking to randoms or in any other case, you’re talking to people who you can’t stand. If you ever see someone in a texting frenzy, you know they’re waiting for their “Thank God you’re here” person to arrive. The end of that sentence is “Ah I got so sick of these hipsters talking about dubstep” or something along that line. You poor things.

The “I heard what you said about me”: This one, perhaps, is specific to movies and shit we see on TV. Honestly who stands by the door and then walks in and says, “You’re going to have to tell me what?” or “What ABOUT Adrian?”, you sneaky bastard. You already heard how your present company is plotting to ruin your ‘sort of’ friend’s career by poisoning them or how your jerky boyfriend is cheating on you or something. Why don’t you just walk in, break shit and scream, “I knew it!” or tell them how you like grapes?

There are lots more, like when someone you know but don’t really like makes the effort to join your conversation in a desperate attempt to be seen with you. Losers. How about when some lesbian purposely walks into (not bumps into) your boobs or when some trashy whore is trying to offend your date/girlfriend by moving through the crowd and purposefully squashing her boobs on you (When it comes to my friends and I, we’ve already lowered our drinks to her crotch and since she’s moving so much she gets spilt on and looks like she pissed her pants, followed by “Oh sorry”, props to Courtney Love for teaching us offensive manners). It all borders on rude and obnoxious or accidental and uncomfortable, either way it’s also hilarious, because we don’t plan the scenes we’re in before we get cast in them. If it’s that bad, you can always just pull a zap sign. There are the lines: “Don’t you have some place to be?”, “So who’re here with?” which both mean ‘Fuck off’ or if it’s just funny, why not joke about it there and then and have a good laugh? Of course you can fuss and you can hide and isolate yourself because it’s ‘so embarrassing, but that’s definitely NOT what a snob does. Put a little snob in you . . .


The Snob













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?

Boys and their Toys?


Uhm okay, this is new?

I think I’m being excluded. Maybe I’m isolating myself from the many topics that come from a ‘man party’.

I’m not sure.

So today,actually while I type (as I decided to invade this male bubble) my lovelier than ever boyfriend (actually fiance) has a friend over.

Uh I must explain to you how exclusive this party is¬†– it has to do with internet games, canned beer, girlfriend drama ( I’m cringing ), plugs, opening files, saving files, programming, ‘control click’, desktop, more beers, some vodka, hip hop music –¬†I mean The Honorable Wu-Tang Clan, operating systems, backing up, firewalls, updates, connections . . . By the way, all this internet/computer lingo jargon is coming from the lovely above-mentioned man. It’s like when my friends invite me out shopping to style them or when my gay friends invite me to their parties because they want to know stylish hot girls and not just gay hot guys (who are also funny).

Anyway, I’m not sure, but I think they might be talking more right now. Earlier I couldn’t really hear them and I wasn’t even watching reruns of ‘Sex and the City’ or ‘Gossip Girl’ (which blocks out most of the suburban sounds for my fashion girl heaven ).

I find this weird because I’ve been the ‘guy-girl’ or as they say ‘one of the boys’ as well as one of the girly girls ( I don’t know how I managed ). I know that with girls, we have a very specific exclusivity social attitude about these kinda gatherings. If you’re not the right girl,¬†you don’t fit in, if you’re a guy, surely you don’t fit in, unless you’re a GORGEOUS, FABULOUS, STYLISH, OPINIONATED GAY GUY! In my case, I was the sporty, opinionated, straight girl who was immune to dirty jokes and innuendoes and spoke frankly about everything and didn’t mind if their immature sexual comments were directed at me because I’d have a killer,totally belittling/embarrassing comeback for them. I do this ‘frank thing’ with my girl group but they probably think I’m a necessary bitch, which is what guys and girls have in common¬†– The necessary bitch.

So here’s where it sucks – like how the fuck am I supposed to be that (necessary bitch) when I’m dealing with Macs and techno shit and poker, I guess?

Funny thing is I can’t complain because I get to watch my lovely above-mentioned man in all his social manliness. It’s fucking hot! It’s hot how he’s bobbing his head to The Honorable Wu-Tang Clan, asking serious questions every now and then, talking about cars and their sync (and it’s sorta comedy as well), and then I think about my friends and how they are so free and honest around me (they better be or I’ll call them out), how they deal with all my shit and how they are so willing to listen because they trust me and react maturely to what I tell them because they know it’s from someone who cares about them.

Our conversation just moved to our appreciation (not mine) of BEER, and then whiskey etc. Somehow, bricks and building worked its way into this modern man (and woMAN) conversation and so did alarms and neighbours. I’m waiting for fashion and haters ( apparent girl shit that guys talk about? ).

Other than the fact that I don’t have a penis, I actually like this company. My own friends don’t talk about the Kardashians. I sometimes find us having quite manly conversations, most of it though is some highly intelligent back-and forth about everyday experiences (lol,philosophies and shit) but we do talk about fashion ( I neeeeeeeed someone who I can talk about the Kardashians with!!!!!)

Anyway, their meeting is over and they’re like ¬†‘See you soon dude’ the same way I am with my girls, so hey IT’S ALL RELATIVE’. Ta-Da.


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