The weekend that was

It started innocently enough. It always does doesn't it. But in all fairness we did take a cab to Long Street so that I can avoid drunken driving. I shouldn't be surprised by how it turned out.

"Can you take a picture of us" was how it started. This was after we'd already had 3 drinks including tequila shots but we were still fairly well behaved. Foreign accents are always a conversation started and I guess that's why we ended up in conversation with 3 local guys who probably wanted to know where my housemate is from (US by the way). While uhming and ahhing a lot about heading to the Pink Strip in Green Point more drinks were bought by our new friends as well an American tourist who felt the need to buy us Jagermeisters for some reason or the other.

Wait. I'm leaving out some details like a new lesbian friend trying to score the straight guy and straight guy remarking what a terrible lesbian she makes. Sister Mary James promoting his her new show and freaking out Jagermeister American. Jagermeister American being pregnant, balancing a drink on his pregnant "belly" and giving birth somewhere in Cape to Cuba (the baby didn't make it he told us). None of this was strange to us at that point.

Eventually terrible lesbian convinces us to go to Beaulah's the lesbian club in Green Point and the only one in Cape Town. 7 of us pile into a cab. It's a Tazz. Yes, that's right. Seven. In a Tazz. The driver has to take back routes to avoid being stopped by the cops. I'm sitting in the front on the lap of one of the guys. The music was pumping and I briefly thought about dancing but that would've been highly inappropriate in the lap of a married man. Also, I couldn't really move being scrunched up against the ceiling. Some very unflattering pictures were taken that you won't be seeing on this blog but might pop up on Facebook some time. At some point I wondered exactly what the hell we're doing but didn't care too much since all the double whiskeys, tequilas and that one Jagermeister had entered my bloodstream by then. Eventually we reached Green Point and married guy opened the door while he assured me that he was not trying to touch my arse and I, quite gracefully, tumbled out of the cab, landing on my feet.

Terrible lesbian was adamant that Friday nights are the best nights at Beaulah's but when we got there it was quite empty. Very few lesbians in sight but my couchsurfer managed to attract immediate attention from the few that were there. Terrible lesbian got upset that straight guy wasn't into her. He has a valid reason though. He has a girlfriend and he's faithful. I stuck to the bar and chatted to the boys and my new housemate while others braved the dancefloor. I'll be damned if I can remember what we talked about though. The naughtiness scale was mentioned. Someone claimed to be a 10 but I contended that I am a 3.

I did brave the dancefloor but not for long and soon afterward found myself being swung around on the empty bit where people would've been dancing had there been more than 10 people present. This was despite my protests that I cannot dance. I'm not entirely sure how I'm was still able to stand at this point never mind handle being swung around.

Terrible lesbian had left with another guy but she wasn't to be the only one with that title for the evening. When alcohol and high heel thresholds were reached and just before we headed home I ended up snogging a guy. Yes, trust me to score a guy in a lesbian club. And thus, I was the butt of jokes on the cab ride home.

The hangovers the next day were severe and our plan to leave early for a trip to the winelands didn't quite materialise. We had delicious pizzas at Bohemia in Stellenbosch (next to the famous Mystic Boer) with lots of water to drink with our meal. I'm was so dehydrated that despite all the water I've had I didn't need to pee. We were too late to go to wine farms since most of them closed at 4pm but managed to find one still open. The wine tasting was unsuccessful since all of our bodies rebelled against the smell and taste of anything remotely alcoholic. It wasn't so much a drunken weekend as a drunken Friday night but the booze we drank was enough for an entire weekend.

The winelands were peaceful as always except for a flock of noisy ibises. We left, me a bottle of Quoin Rock Chardonnay richer, to have an alcohol and meat free braai at home.

Sunday was uneventful, my surfer left much to my disappointment and my housemate was working. I slept for most of the day and tidied up the mess that had accumulated over the week, later settling in to read and watch TV while I waited for my next surfer.

The weekend that was, in photos

...next to Bill Murray, in questionable hotel somewhere in Asia, and he's saying to me: "No one will ever believe you."

It's Saturday and I'm sitting here bored, in my pajamas, listening to the mixed CD I made for my car, waiting for the wind to die down, for me to get hungry enough and for the thought of having baked beans for supper to make me sick enough that I get changed and actually leave the house.

I'm stumbling because I'm lazy and my attention span is proving short. I "stumble" across this:

Fifty People, One Question: Brooklyn from Fifty People, One Question on Vimeo.

My first answer was my bed since it's become my best friend over the last week or two. My next answer, after a bit of thought, was the title of this post which was brought on by reading the Bill Murray stories on No One Will Ever Believe You.

A part of me wishes (maybe just a little too hard) that at least some of the stories are true. Then there'll at least be a chance, infinitesimally small, that something similarly, awesomely, surreal might happen to me one day. It's not like I want to have his children and my walls aren't plastered with posters of him, but Bill Murray is made of awesomeness and who wouldn't wanted him to whisper those sweet, six words to them? Oh ok, just me then...



PS. If you haven't seen Zombieland, do so.

This is a local place for local people (or Saturday that was)

Saturday morning, after having a few too many at the local bar Friday evening and wanting to escape the wrath of the vacuum cleaner the cleaning lady was intent on unleashing on me, I went to the local coffee café, Frangipanis, for breakfast.

It's simple, local pleasures like having a lazy breakfast, noticing the trees crowding the small gardens of the Victorian homes, watching the world go by and people doing their every day things, that are most enjoyable.

After breakfast, I needed to go to the local, family-run grocery to store get some bread and milk but was distracted by one of the many local antiques stores which had on display what I thought was the perfect bookcase. It was a display cabinet, not the elusive perfect bookcase, but upon further browsing I found a lovely retro drinks table. It was overpriced but I had to have it and managed to get a R150 discount.

Once home, I did my new, favourite thing and sat down on my lounger on the balcony with a cider, watching the going-ons of the harbour and baking in the sun.

After a nap it was time to venture further afield. It was time to leave the comfort of local and I met up with a friend and his friends from Johannesburg in Long Street. After mediocre Mexican food and cocktails I was not really in the mood for dancing but didn't want to go home. I pub/club hopped with the group but was soon overwhelmed by the crowds and smoke. After midnight I allowed my transformation into a pumpkin and headed home.

The quiet weekend that wasn't

I had made the decision that the only way to remedy my tiredness of late was the spend the entire weekend in my bed. It was to be a quiet weekend. It didn't help that I woke up bored on Saturday. And after much yes no-ing I finally settled on no. And sent a text to WikidKnickers: I'm not going to make. Go on without me. Save yourselves. Tell my wife I love her. WikidKnickers replied: *sulks*. It was the most effective *sulk* ever. So I threw on some cloths, painted my face and set off for Fiddle East.


Fiddle East is a Balkan themed party. A smaller and more regular version of Balkanology. You can hear "a fusion of Gypsy, Serbian, Macedonian, Bulgarian and Romanian melodies". It's held at one of Cape Town's hidden gems and one of my favourite venues, The Albert Hall in my 'hood, Woodstock. While I've never made it to a Balkanology, this was my third time at a Fiddle East party. It was the best one so far. The problems of a too packed venue and a waiting time of thirty minutes at the bar were solved by opening the backyard of Albert Hall and setting up an extra bar. Vintage lamps were strung up, persian carpets hung and an abundance of cushions strewn. The energy from the DJs were infectious. And I danced my hiney off. Until my feet were begging me: No more!

Ghostly Gypsy couple


BabyAcid & WikidKnickers


The Juggler


Me and an awesome new friend

Sunday I had the same problem. I woke up bored and wanted to get out and do something. I decided that it'd be shopping. So I called up my favourite shopping partner, my mum. She was having lunch with her brother but she'd be able to go shopping after lunch. My plan was to buy some of the supplies for Rocking the Daisies, to window shop and to buy other small things. This plan was effectively ruined when I walked into the second shop and found my lounge chair had been "Priced to go" knocking R700 off the price. I had to get it. As well as a more portable lounger that I could take with to RtD. The lounger took up most of the space in the car and I fore went the rest of the shopping trip in favour lugging the rather large, rather heavy lounger home before taking my mother back and visiting family to borrow some supplies for camping (an airbed and an electronic pump).

All together a very happy weekend. I like getting what I want. I like getting it on sale even better.

The weekend (and Monday) that was

The weekend started on Thursday but Thursday was spent removing cat hair from all surfaces, baking, and being firmly attached to my bed. The plan was to go to Betty's Bay for the rest of the weekend but my urge to do something else and go somewhere different took over and we found ourselves in De Kelders. We was myself, Trix and boyfriend and a couchsurfer from Germany. Trix found us a comfy, albeit horrendously decorated, low cost apartment. It was the Whale Festival and accommodation was not easy to be found. And not cheap either.

De Kelders is now my new favourite seaside town. We didn't get to explore the caves since they were closed but did get to hang out at the beach. I decided to brave the chilly waters even though I was more afraid of dead bird cooties than the cold. The water was decidedly pleasant and soon the dead bird was forgotten as I floated, staring up at the blue, cloud spotted sky. The beach later became known as Dead Bird's Beach but the I think the real name is actually Stanford's Bay. Whatever. I like Dead Bird's Beach better.

Later, after a few glasses of wine, there was the salad dressing drinking incident and other hilarities. We went to bed first ensuring that all animal skin carpets were out of sight and I woke up far too late the next morning but luckily no one had finished the delicious peanut butter cheesecake I had made. After finding the caves closed and the weather turning foul we decided to head off to Hermanus. We'd spotted a few whales before heading off and saw even more in Hermanus. There were even more whales frolicking in the ocean in Hermanus. I say frolicking but they were probably having sex.

After the long drive home I once again firmly attached myself to my bed until late Sunday afternoon, missing lunch with my mother but making it in time for afternoon tea. Supper was with an old friend from university that I haven't seen in far too long.

Monday proved to be utterly miserable. It's difficult to adjust to work after a 4 day weekend. My couchsurfer had to stay an extra night and wanted to take me to the movies to make up for it. We had sushi at Sevruga and I found it difficult to move after insisting on eating the last 3 pieces of sushi.

We watched Public Enemies and I can highly recommend this movie for reasons other than perving over Johnny Depp and Christian Bale. It's a top notch crime movie. It has a stellar cast but I wasn't mad about the female lead and would much rather have had some of the actresses playing cameos to have played the lead. Some of the scenes are far too long. And the movie was shot in HD. While some scenes are beautifully shot, others -incidently the ones that could have been cut, looked like they were scenes from some horrible cheap, crime reenactment show. It's hard not to fall in love with John Dillinger and some of his lines in the movie are entirely quotable.

What do you want?
Everything. Right now.


We're having too good a time today. We ain't thinking about tomorrow.

The weekend that was

Friday was a write off. I knew that from the second I stepped in my door, headed straight for bedroom and face planted on my bed. I stayed in bed, eventually moving my face and body into a more comfortable position. After reluctantly getting out of bed to attend to some business my body wasn't willing to go back to sleep. So I watched a movie, surfed the internet, and chatted to a friend who'd spent her evening much more productively at a club getting naked. Eventually I slept again.

After much uhm-ing and ah-ing about what exactly to do on Saturday after accomplishing 80 percent of my chores (removing layers of cat hair from carpets and tiles, laundry, etc.), I headed off to Stellenbosch with Trix and her boyfriend, Adam. To the last remaining indoor skate park. Adam is the skater, not Trix. En route, enjoying the warmth of the sun on my skin and winelands scenery, many a joke was made about 10 year old skaters. Upon arrival at the skate park I discovered the exactitude of our jokes. I did, however, spot three men, excluding Adam, who were capable of growing facial hair.

Adam, having already donned most of his protective gear at home, was attempting to secure his helmet to his head when I noticed that Adam was the only one sporting protective gear. Despite the sign stating that helmets are compulsory. Not even the 10 year olds were wearing so much as an elbow guard. After a few well placed sniggers, Trix and I set off for lunch.

Adam ready to take on the concrete of the skate park*

Adam the street skater mastering a ramp

It might just have been that I was starving but the pizzas were very good. After lunch we stopped at a Spar to pick some things for tea, hertzoggies and milk tart, true South African treats. We returned to the skate park to pick a somewhat bruised and battered Adam. We made another stop at a Spar closer to home to acquire ingredients for the burgers Adam were to make as soon as he'd showered all skate park sweat off him. At the Spar I spotted this:


I have no words.

Supper was the most delicious home made burgers I've ever had and I will forgive Adam his skateboarding habit just for this. I decided that we needed to watch Teeth.

It was terrible, but better than I expected. And it was HILARIOUS! I had an asthma attack from laughing so much. All the trouble getting the dvd to play (broken player and finicky Wii) was so worth it.

Overcoming the laziness from eating too much, I moseyed on home. I overslept on Sunday, missing yoga. The rest of the day was spent playing with Google SketchUp. SketchUp is a phenomenal program. So far I've made a kickass chair, following a tutorial, and a bookcase. I'm not sure if I have the skills, determination and creativity to design anything like the pieces on display in the warehouse but I'm enjoying playing and it'll serve me well to hand a carpenter a clear, simple design of the bookcase I want.




* Pictures are bad quality because Adam couldn't stand still long enough for my to adjust the camera settings.

Paranormal romance and the weekend that was (in reverse)

The weekend that was was quite uneventful. Sunday I was forced out of bed by my mother insisting I come to the train station to see her off before she embarks on her trip to the north. I decided not to return to bed after the fare-thee-wells, and set off to Canal Walk to watch Harry Potter.

While browsing the bookstore before the start of the movie I was surprised to discover that not only does paranormal romance now officially have its own genre, there are also 8 shelves dedicated to it. The top shelf, of course, housing Stephanie Meyers' Twilight series. Why my surprise? Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, zombies, mutants and humans have been falling in and out of love with each other for aeons. But never did they receive a genre of their own. Nevermind 8 bookshelves. I blame Stephanie Meyers for this and I don't particularly care that the genre was in existence before Meyers wrote Twilight.

I enjoyed Harry Potter although large parts of the movie bored me and I just wanted them to get a move on to where spells are cast and people die. I reckon this is due to the fact that I've read the book and even then was not really all that interested in the love life of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. I thoroughly enjoyed the scene where Harry has taken the Felix Felicis potion and recommend seeing the movie just for that scene.

Saturday I spent most of the day in bed, sleeping. I finally awakened sometime after 7pm and made my most delicious lasagna yet. But I have still to figure out how to not to run out of white sauce. The obvious solution would be to just make more white sauce, right? I'm waiting for this to sink in.

Friday night was the Mad Hatter's Christmas Tea Party at The Old Biscuit Mill. I was somewhat under a wrong impression, thinking that this would be the night version of the popular Neighbourgoods Market. Nonetheless, the event was utterly disappointing. I am now convinced that I missed my calling as an event planner after spending very little mental effort planning a Mad Hatter's Party and coming up with ideas infinitely better than the organisers of the event. This is because the organisers did not think beyond "Get people to wear hats/ties". The event was described as such:

Not your run of the mill Christmas in July

and

Come and join us for a fun-filled shopping experience. Exciting prizes for best dressed Hat or Tie or Both, Kids entertainment, wine farms – wine sales, Cape culinary experience, loads of entertainment for the whole family. An event not to be missed.

My first though is "Why combine Christmas in July and a Mad Hatter's tea party?" There is no logical connection and it's just asking to be overloaded in terms of catering for both themes. The shops were open. There was nothing fun-filled about it. I'm sure there were prizes although any mention of this at the event was scarce to be found. A few wine farms had their wares on offer. And on offer they were in the most inappropriate place, the entrance hall that was not big enough to keep the wine tasters out of the way of those wishing to just pass through.

The Cape culinary experience was mysteriously absent. Perhaps I arrived too late and all the food had been eaten. Besides for some tasty cookies there was not a crumb to be found. Or a drop, for that matter, that wasn't a meagre tasting from the wine farms. Yes, the on-site restaurant's bar was open but this was so poorly run that I turned around dry-throated after waiting 15 minutes. Kids' entertainment was in the form a most sorry, skinny arsed Santa Claus, not a 'ho' to be heard.

There was no atmosphere, no decoration, and no music. This tea party was definitely one that should have been skipped and after about an hour we went to find cocktails and food at the local watering hole which had infinitely more atmosphere, booze, food and entertainment than the Mad Hatter's affair.

The weekend that was featuring cooking deluxe, expensive hobbies and the healing properties of potato

My mother visited this weekend. I was grateful because I have been neglecting the tasks I hate most: washing dishes and ironing. My mother really seems to enjoy these chores and I returned the favour (hopefully) by cooking her delicious meals consisting of foods she's never eaten, and taking her shopping (it turned out the shopping was all too much for her. And not because I was spending vast amounts of money).

Friday evening dinner was ostrich neck with Kalahari truffles in a white wine and cream sauce, served with ol' dependable mash. Ostrich is my favourite meat followed by crocodile. My mother was weary of the truffles but was soon won over by the earthy goodness of the meal. Lessons learned: (1) Ostrich neck is best slow cooked. (2) I cannot share my kitchen with a feline and my mother.

I got paid sometime Saturday and it was time to stock up on groceries. My cupboards have been bare for far too long. I returned home with a boot full of groceries. Lunch was a rustic pizza with caramelised onions, butternut and camembert. My camembert craving has been satisfied. Well, not really. I still have to deep fry the second wheel and serve it with St Dalfour's delicious fruit preserve. Dessert was truffles, of the chocolate variety this time.

After lunch it was time for more shopping. Off to Makro, Stodels and Canal Walk. I returned home with a boot full of plants, cooking pots, and a variety of storage jars and vases. By now 90% of my salary has already been spent.

I have never fooled myself into thinking that I do not have expensive tastes. My passive hobbies of reading and watching movies have set me back a fair bit in the monetary department. The costs of tattoos have doubled since my first tat 5/6 years ago.

I can now add terrariums to my list of expensive hobbies. Two trips to Stodels has cost me close R600. I will not mention the cost of the jars and vases but I will proudly show off the first of my finished terrariums.


The terrarium second from the left is my favourite. It stars a Rabbit's Foot Fern, black grass, and some ground cover of which I've forgotten the name. One more terrarium to go before I take a hiatus due to bankruptcy.

The rest of Saturday was spent watching a pork belly roasting slowly in the oven and designing one of my next tattoos: Alice in Wonderland. I had to fork out R49.95 for a sketching pad. How ridiculous. However, I'm very pleased that I have not lost all my ability to sketch. The sketches below were drawn freehand, copying from the original drawings (excluding Alice) in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass.




I decided to have raisin bread and chocolate for breakfast on Sunday. While rooting in my mother's overnight back for chocolate, I discovered a potato. I enquired why my mother had stolen one of my potatoes. Of course, she didn't steal it but had brought it with her from home. Of course. I was puzzled. Apparently, sleeping with a potato in your bed prevents arthritis. Apparently, the entire older generation of my family swears by it. I'm thinking of getting my mother certified. I've recommended my cousins do the same to their parents.

By Sunday I had had it with cooking and had the usual Sunday lunch, nap on the couch, and tea at my cousin's. And of course there was heckling of the family about their strange bedfellows, the potatoes.

The weekend that was

The weekend got infinitely better (after a rocky start on Friday evening and Saturday morning) after I finished a long island ice tea in a cafe on long street. It was before noon when I started drinking it but it's ok because it was after noon when I finished it.

It was my non-sober weekend. An uncomfortable period of soberness followed but was made bearable by Manuella agreeing to design my next 2 tattoos and a stop in Tokai to buy booze.

A trip to Simonstown, a bottle of Chenin Blanc, a glass of red wine, some recreation, and the best chicken made by a vegetarian later, it was time to head off to The Assembly for Zebra and Giraffe and The Wedding DJs.

Zebra and Giraffe were impressive. Carlin has a voice on him with a vocal range that I'm sure requires an elastic band in an uncomfortable place for the hire octaves. The bands stage presense is worthy of panty-throwing. The Knife is still my favourite track and the one I enjoyed the most but perhaps only because I'm more familiar with it. There were more tracks I deemed worthy to check out and I will show support by purchasing the debut album, Collection Memories.

The Wedding DJs rocked my world. I danced and danced and danced (my ass off). My feet hate me. I loved my single-serving dancing buddies (since all my friends abandoned me shortly after the live performance, I had to make single-serving friends. Dance with them. Toast them. Hug them. Don't even know their names.). There was much throwing of hands into the air, singing along, and I do believe I "grinded" at some point.

Without evening/early mornings like this, life would be very dull indeed.

The rest of Sunday was spent holding my head, getting Adam to prepare food while Vanessa applied copious amount of aspirin.

The weekend that was. And the first of much randomness

I have nothing to say. No, that's not true. But what I have to say, or what I can say is not very interesting. So, I'll start with writing about the weekend.

It was uneventful and I caught up on much needed my sleep. One cannot have fun all the time, right? And there should be time set aside to cuddle with the kitty and catch up on some TV. So that is what I did. My frenzy to see that next season of Lost was subdued when I realised that season 5 is not altogether great. But I'm determined to see Lost through to the end. We have walked a long path together and Lost owes me an explanation. However crappy that explanation might end up being.

Between sleep session there was also time for a visit to the nursery and a little gardening. Which was great! Over R200 worth of plants, soil and pebbles later, I had to cut myself off. I will be back in 2 weeks though as they had no moss in stock. Also, I now have 3 incomplete terrariums (soon there will be a 4th) that are begging for more plants. I have no pictures yet due to incompleteness and a lack of good photographic light this weekend.

This is what my entrance hall looked like shortly after starting the first terrarium.

Making a mess. You're doing it right.

Sunday I went to family so they could feed me. It's also been a long time since I've seen them (2-3 weeks?) and I missed them. There was the usual: chicken curry, sugar-free fizzy cooldrinks, rambunctious kids, sleeping on the couches, tea and cake (no death, sorry) and bad taste.

At some point after tea my aunt explained that one day soon she buy a wall unit to house her television and various decorative ornaments. Wide-eyed I kept my mouth shut until her children almost yelled at her that wall units for your television are in no way and form fashionable anymore. My aunt wouldn't hear of it and insisted that stores would not be selling it anymore if it wasn't fashionable.

So, I ask the question: why are stores still stocking horribly outdated, kitsch items (the non-ironic ones)? Because people still buy them? But why? This truly boggles my mind.