Quick! Drink This!

I'd like nothing more than to make you jealous that you're at work while I'm still in my pyjamas, on holiday. But my white wine hangover prohibits me from doing such. It's grotesque. And if I wasn't feeling ill enough, The Travelling Companion woke me up and said, "Drink this. It doesn't taste bad but drink it quickly."

I'm a good girl. Sometimes, stupidly, I do as I'm told especially when I think that the glass thrust into my hand may contain some miracle hangover cure. Actually, the contents of the glass was liquid. And I needed hydration, huge style. My body lacked water such that the blood in my veins was powder.

And so I downed it. Error. Grave. It was Aloe Vera juice. (Why??). Every ounce of aloe flavour grabbed hold of other flavourants within the mouth (stale white wine, too many ciggies, general badness). I preferred the original taste.

I've brushed my teeth twice, had two cups of tea and eaten two slices of toast with scrambled eggs atop and, guess what?, the aloe flavour reigns. I'm contemplating tongue transplant.

But the hangover is gone. So maybe you should be jealous. We're off to do some shopping, perhaps a spot of lunch (no tolerance for white wine. Not for another six months to two years), and then we're topping up tans. And perhaps, because we can, an afternoon nap. All the kiff stuff. That's what life is all about. Radness.

X X X

Roadtripping In The New SA

Roadtripping in the New SA! Roadtripping in the New SA-ay-ay!

Woooooooo party!

A little scene setting: The Pant, The Sil's BF/Daughter of The Mother's BF, The Daughter + Small Size Son of Travelling Companion. The open road. Ice cold cokes (how great is coke?). Rad tunes - new Regina Spektor and I'm all over her like wet spaghetti. Radness.

Although, let me make one point clear - our feelings to this trip may differ from passenger to passenger. The Daughter is excited to see Precious Jo'burg Friend and her offspring, The Small Size Son is unaware of what is ahead of him, The Companion is heading back to work and, well, The Pant is going to have some extended holiday jol with Precious Jo'burg Friend. Halle-flipping-luljah. Radness. Woop-woop wicky-wicky. (For The Pant, anyway).

I'm going to be Earnest Hemingway with you now and admit that I'm unbelievably excited for this spontaneous break. I haven't been excited to go to Jo'burg ever. Truly. Ever. Not like this, anyway.

Maybe it's the dawning of the New Year (I suspect that has a lot to do with things - I'm so excited to start again - bigger, better, more). But I also suspect it's got to do with this Living-In-The-Moment Thing, and the reflection I've been doing of late.

Whatever the cause - it feels flipping cool.

So. Let me just share why 2011's had a super rad start.

1. The Daughter is just amazing.com. The magic she has brought to my life in this very short year is over-e-countable. Flip, guys, she is just the most phenomenal little person. And I'm the luckiest Mama-Cat ever.

We danced in the lounge like crazy women this morning. My heart is so full I can barely breath.

2. I topped up the tan - poolside. I love little more than lying in the sun. Ice-cream in one hand, Jilly Cooper in the other. Radness.

3. I got, like, properly flirted with. And he was hot with a capital H. The truth is I need to learn how to be flirted with again. But that's a skill that'll come with practice.

So this is how it went:

(Hot Guy with group of hot friends lying on sun loungers playing cards. The Pant and Liners lying on towels on grass eavesdropping on Hot Guy's conversation. The Pant hears they're leaving shortly. Vast shortage of loungers in pool area.)

The Pant: Hey are you guys leaving soon?

Hot Guy: Yes we are.

TP: Ah, please can we steal your loungers? There's a thorn poking through my towel and I'm lying dangerously close to snake-infested bush (don't be disgusting now, my panties. Think literal.).

HG: Of course you can. But we're leaving in two batches - only one golf cart.

TP: Well, can we move in in two batches, then?

HG: Sure. But can you give me your telephone number as a kind of swap?

TP (aside to The Sil but not a proper aside since HG definitely heard): Oh my God, I'm so embarrassed I don't know what to say.

All round laughs.

No exchange of telephone number. No point, really. Given that I'm roadtripping in the New SA.

And even though I've decided to take a six month sabbatical on Love, it was really nice to be noticed. By a Mr Hottie-Hot-Pants. Not that I shouldn't be noticed. It's 2011, after all, and I'm oozing with super-effing-radness.

So maybe it's not a sabbatical I'm taking. Just learning to love The Pant again.

New Year Day Agony

Uuuuugggghhhhh... Champagne, wine, beer, more champagne, bloody bloody (no, I don't have a stutter) Mary oyster shots (hic) more champagne (hic). Am putting myself up for kindey and liver transplant today (and if kind doctors could also do a little thigh and ass liposuction at the same time, that would be muchly appreciated).

A mild evening, actually, by Pant standards (although it really doesn't take much to get The Pant going). Immediate family. Oysters. Too many prawns for what is humanly acceptable (but very effing rad). Too much liquor. Far too much. And the obligatory listen-to-songs-that-meant-something-during-the-year session.

And this is where the definitive change occurred, for The Pant anyway. The Brother put on a CD. We were reminiscing, you know. Waka waka. That Coca-Cola song.

And then some Parlotones. To honour The BF, my people's wedding. But track one preceded "Even if you're rich, even if you're poor.". And it dawned on me.

Despite there being much to celebrate in 2010 (The Daughter, Tshabalala's first World Cup goal, that dreadful teacher resigning, the hair that dries straight without GHD, that sexy grey lingerie I bought, the fact that I've finally reached adulthood and have started wearing earrings), Kahn Morbee vocalised just what 2010 was (note the tense, halle-effing-luljah). It was a giant mistake (gigantic).

But the rad part? It's behind The Pant. And there are such huge things ahead of her. Because - mind the L'Oreal advertising here - she's worth it. I am. I deserve better. Much better.

I would be on my way to spend a week of escapism with Precious Jo'burg Friend, if the travelling companion wasn't as hung over as I am. It's going to be a healing time.

Wine (too much thereof). Ciggies (because everyone smaaks a twak). Chats (the only way to heal). And the facing of Jo'burg. There are so many memories there that belong to The Larry-And-Pant era and, do you know what?, I want them back.

I hope you all had a safe patsy, my panties. And my Special K, in Canada, I hope the rest of your night rocks. Beware of 8 am, though. Sorry to spoil the surprise, but it's going to suck big style ass.

<3
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