Step Two to Being the next Rachel Bilson

I am currently attempting a Detox… for two weeks….

I am only on Day 3 and already feeling it, not in the good glowing-never-felt-better-or-healthier way … but in the oh-my-god-kill-me-now-I-want-a-cheeseburger way…. I am hoping it gets easier as the days go!

Mr CT is being really supportive and has decided to attempt this “enormous” task with me. He is already having beer cravings.. I think those may have started within the first 20 minutes…

Speaking of cravings, it’s funny how simply knowing you cannot have something makes you crazy for it, isn’t it? Human nature will never cease to AMUSE me.

The thing that I have battled with the most so far, funny enough, is the no coffee or sugar rule. These were items I never really worried too much with on a regular basis, thinking I was totally balanced there, but now I miss each and every cup. When Lovely-Rose comes around with that 10:00am cuppa joe and skips my desk I feel like the brave heroine at the end of a black and white movie – fighting back the tears as she watches her true love ride / fly off into the sunset…. (….”goodbye Java…. I will always love you”…..)

So in light of this, I have decided to extend a challenge, to myself and to anyone else who is interested..

Lets call it the Coffee Challenge.

Take one habit that you know you have, and totally erase it from today – it does not have to be food (I, for example am taking Complaining.... me, never....). See if you can go a day without it. Better yet – make it two days. Let’s see if this causes some type of wake up – an eye-opener to how much you exercise your bad habits without even realizing it…

Maybe the mind could use a bit of cleansing, too....


Let me know how you do.


PRK

AND... LIFT.... hold.... hold..... and RE-LEASE...

I have done the UNTHINKABLY STUPID task of joining a gym…. Yes. ME…

Truth be told, if I have to rely on good weather to go walking or jogging in the Supermodel City – I wont get anywhere, unless I manage to fashion a stylish one-piece out of refuse bags and don’t particularly mind resembling a plastic version of Cousin It while I mosey along in the rain.... but then I stand the risk of being shot in the ass or scaring small children.

So there we have it --- PRK… and her first day at the gym…

The most gorgeous trainer (BONUS!) showed me the equipment and laughed his way through my first attempts (not such a bonus) --- bright and shiny moment - I rock. I don’t think there is an upside to a perfectly gorgeous man seeing your strained face in a fluorescent lit room while you agonise through the most basic level of toning weights available…. That shit is embarrassing…. Imagine the face you would pull if were running in the dark and your toe connected with a table-leg, and because it was dark you didn’t disguise the pain… Yep – something like that.

Oh hang on – it does, in fact, get worse….

While I am trying to cling to my dignity and suck the beer belly in and keep the mouth-breathing to a minimum I glance around to find that I am surrounded by young UCT students who are parading around in what could pass off as swimwear in some countries. Sprinting along on the treadmills with the greatest of ease…I am guessing that they don’t even know what stretch marks are.

(...“please fall…. Please fall… please fall….”...)

I feel they should set times or days at gyms for different sizes… More on this is bound to come up soon – like the unavoidable day that I am going to be running on the treadmill, sneaking looks at some hottie, slip and get flung across the room like a Frisbee….

Watch this space peeps!!

PRK

The Jellybean Field and Other Adventures

Sincerest apologies for the prolonged silence emanating from my cubicle!! I am not dead… like that guy in the scary story that everyone has no doubt heard by now… I have been given this peculiar little thing to do around the office which has kept me quite busy…. Something called W-O-R-K… I think that is how its spelled..

The next Adventures are upon me!!!

The first is a joint venture with a lovely, lovely little lady bug I have come a long way with. An online book club we will be calling The Jellybean Field. Still in the early phases of shooting design and section ideas around – but let me say – its going to be a GOODIE people!! The by-product of some true geniuses at work!

Next on the “To Do” List – a trip to my beloved Johannesburg this coming September… haven’t had a good life-fearing experience since last night when I skillfully avoided a road-block.. Not sure how much of the trip I will remember but there will be a (possibly short) update.

And as off the beginning of August I will be attempting … SALSA CLASSES – as if belly-dancing’s co-ordination was not complicated enough for my fat ass. And these classes will be carried out in high heels… I will do what I can to keep my fingers in tact – but my ankles are in grave danger!! I feel it only fair to warn you in advance that this will be radiating a lot of my future moaning.

More later!!


PRK

What's Worse Than a Hangover?

I may or may not have already mentioned that Mr CT and I live in a flat in a fairly busy part of Supermodel City.

Regardless of how much hustle and bustle there is on the streets – Sunday mornings are the most terrifying times for us to step foot out the front door..

Let me illustrate..

After a relatively rowdy Saturday night we wake up this particularly fateful Sunday morning, heads abuzz and decide to do the laze-around-the-house thing. We take a quick walk to the café on the corner (to the right) to get some milk for coffee and on the walk back we see them…. Three of them, in broad daylight, approaching our flat entrance, pamphlets under arms…. It froze us in horror.

Jehovah’s Witnesses….!!!!!

We rush to hide around the nearest corner and watch them from a distance, planted to the spot and ringing each and every button on the intercom in the hope that someone will let them into our building. Casually we cross the street to stand around at the fabulous Jacqui Daya where we draw the attention of a few folks sitting outside having their breakfast, which, at this point we are DYING for.

We assume position behind a 4x4… Still standing there! What’s it been now? Like 10 minutes? This milk is getting heavy!! We give up and decide to continue walking, briskly, in the opposite direction to the DVD store, on foot, to make our selection for the day… milk in tow.
We eventually got home an hour after leaving.. heavier hangover than ever due to the dehydration caused by all that walking.

As we finally settled down with a flick and a large greasy breakfast we made a pact… From now on, everywhere we go on a Sunday, even if it’s the corner – we DRIVE!

What's worse than a hangover? Pretending to look INTERESTED when you have a hangover.



PRK

My Life - The string of Tuesdays...

I have an urge for some adventure. I mean REAL adventure. The kind where you pack a good friend or two into your car with some good music and barely enough money to take you over a week and just… disappear. No planned destination, just a direction and some great company.

I need that. Who DOESN’T need that???!!!???

A few temper tantrums, a guaranteed flat tyre, some reminiscing, lots of booze, sleazy camp sites, pissing in the bushes, photos galore and a reeling mind full of hilariously embarrassing moments.

I need to completely reset my mind, its just flooding up with negative thoughts. This silly little thing named Routine and I are not good friends at all. Something inside me screams for an escape from the ordinary, even if it’s just for a few days.

Perhaps that is why I feel so lonely so often… I need someone to share that enthusiasm with, someone as bat-shit crazy as I am to drop everything in a blink and scream “LETS DO IT!”. Someone who would throw me over their shoulder and whisk me off somewhere when I begin to get bored.

God only knows where I would be by now if that were the case… probably picking bananas in the Congo or some shit…. But I would be laughing… Laughing instead of fretting over how to make this work. How to get a routine going that I would be happy with. How to keep someone else happy. How to advance my career. Building a stable life sucks total dick!! The excitement dwindles and disappears and life becomes a string of Tuesdays complete with a load of washing and your favourite sitcom.

I think the definition of a soulmate is not someone who you can see yourself being content with for a long time – but someone who you never can predict, and you have faith in anyway. Life is not about the long term, it’s a moment to moment thing. If you can find someone who can always keep you excited and on your toes – hold on tight! Even if its in the form of a best friend or a family member who totally understands your level of passion for life and kwenches it regularly.

Ask yourself this – if I die tomorrow, will dying be the only thing left to do?
Less planning, more living people, c'mon...

PRK

Good Old Days...

So I was chatting to a dear friend of mine last night (who decided to carry out the oh-so-tedious task of utilizing his pregnant sister’s remaining free minutes) and we managed to chat up a storm for a total of about 45 minutes…. Much to the semi-irritation of Mr CT who was trying to busy himself around the flat for that period without watching the TV I had muted and planted my fat ass in front of.

We maintain a long-distance friendship…. I haven’t actually seen him since I was 12, yet he is one of the people I feel the most comfortable with and closest to.

I actually pride myself on the people I keep contact with, each person brings out a different side (Coca-Cola) of me. And all it takes is a phone call, an email or some time in their company to re-wire my brain and turn my thoughts in a different direction – politics, clothes, breaking some rules, drinking until I puke, or just simply releasing the zany humour and letting it run rampant.

Now this entire 45 minute chat consisted of about 2 minutes of serious topic and 43 minutes of shit-shooting, and I hung up the phone feeling as if I had just let a whole lot off my chest and was returning to semi-sanity. It's always good to get a dose of the friends who make you feel stable again – in any form possible. Even if all you do is adapt each other’s lame-o jokes and make fun of yourself.

I needed that. Was in a bit of a perpetually negative place before that call - but I'm back on top of things now and have regulated to my pervacious, crack-a-lacking self. hee haw. Expect more regular posts about my retarded points of view and opinions on ABSOLUTELY EVEYTHING you lucky, lucky followers.

(Thanks HIllbilly - Looking forward to our visit Coca-Cola, and the certain six-pack all the laughing and hurling will give me!)


PRK

The Character Machine...

I have to say; with a quarter of the year gone my resolution is going very well. I decided when this year began that it would be the year for CHANGE! In any form – just basically embrace some new-ness.

I think that I have totally taken it for granted that here in the Supermodel City nobody actually knows me.... I CAN BECOME ANYONE - without criticism!! That realisation made me wake up and grab this opportunity by the B-A-L-L-S!!

The blog started up. (A big welcome to my newest Reader by the way - Welcome!) And I have surprised myself by sticking to it. The dancing is going well – even though I still look like something of a hippopotamus. And now I have a walking routine getting in order and I am attempting the healthy eating thing (HARDY HAR – I will admit right now that I can’t promise anything on that one!)

So what next? How else can I improve the Rude-Kitty-Meister..?

A drastic hair change is in the cards….
So are guitar lessons….
Planning my first ever overseas trip…..

Herrrrmmm......

What about chef classes?? I(nteresting idea actually – I HAVE recently finally purchased a stove after 5 months of microwave cooking. I think that sounds good… watch this space for an update.)


An interesting question for the readers - If you could become anything, anyone... who and what would you be?

Now I will ask a second interesting question - What is stopping you??

“Poise Inspires Confidence”


PRK

Here comes the......???

So I went to a wedding this weekend passed - and Mr. CT was the best man, and my oh my how, dashingly handsome he looked! With that gorgeous straight posture and broad shoulders. Let’s just say – my mind was working overtime processing thoughts completely inappropriate for church!

Now with him being part of the wedding – there was a 5 hour gap between the ceremony and the reception which I just did not know how to fill. And so, off I toddled to visit with Tiny and Bubby, maybe for a quick drink, and some pleasant conversation.

WELL! A drink turned into another and another and the Mokador was a-flying! Needless to say that the time totally got away from me and before I knew it I was getting up from the bed where I had been sprawled out in my glam outfit gladly calling out the words for GOVINDA by Kula Shaker in a less-than-beautiful attempt at getting the pronunciations right. (oh…. My….. fuck….. I guess this would be the right time to inform you that I am SOOOooooOOOOO white!!)

So off we went on the adventure to find the hall that we were certain to arrive last at.

Last indeed…..

It took me the short walk from the car to the entrance to realise that I had made a colossal mistake in my choice of high heels as, for some reason the ground was simply not co-operating with my graceful gait anymore…..

Arrived at the entrance and blushed straight into the distance and into that handsome face sitting at the main table for a moment before looking around and seeing a few other familiar faces glancing back. As I made my way from where I was standing to the emptiest table, which just HAD to be riiiiiiight in front it only occurred to me that the speeches were underway and I was drawing attention. Fun, fun, fun – especially with those unco-operative heels, click-clacking speedily and unsteadily, down the centre of the hall. People must have thought that I was trying open up the dance-floor with that zig-zag manouvre!

The rest of the evening went off without a hitch – I think…


PRK

Hip Hip ..... BOO-ray

I think I am going to boycott my birthday this year. I have realised that as I get older the actual celebrating becomes more and more of a damn hassle. Why is that?

I am not particularly afraid of getting older and the idea doesn’t really make me miserable. It happens to everyone. What is the big deal? “Oh no! I’m not young enough to not know how to handle my liquor anymore!” was never really a thought that crossed my mind. I kind of like the idea of learning and growing. I am not absorbed in the way that I look since I have never been much of a looker anyway, I don’t feel that age will take as much as it will give.

What I am boycotting is the actual celebration process. It’s damn exhausting trying to plan an event that will keep everyone, happy. Should I have something at home, should we go out, if so – where should we go? If we stay in – we have the weather to consider – braai or dinner party?

No thank you.

No big plans for the so-called quarter-life crisis. Screw it. This year – no big cake with a cabana boy jumping out of it for me…. Unless, of course someone truly insists... actually… that would actually be fucking awesome!


Okay – scratch that last idea. Cabana Boy in cake OR nothing!!


PRK

Food for Thought

“Vividly picture yourself winning, and that alone will contribute immeasurably to success.
Great living starts with a picture, held in your imagination, of what you would like to do or be.”

I read this quote this morning while groggily chugging down my first cup of strong life support and the words really resonated with me. Going to give this a shot.

Lord knows a little positive attitude wont KILL me!

PRK

Back to Life.... Back to Reality

So, the camping trip was a success. Beautiful scenery, sunny weather and some rather disturbing images just to even out the balance, such as a hand-sized spider (photographic evidence available) and the lovely Mr CT sporting nothing but a purple thong (no photographic evidence available).

Sat by the fire at nights, playing music, learning how to braai, talking total random shit which only drinking vodka out of a watermelon can be blamed for….

A cricket decided to set up camp with us and we just could not get the little guy out of the tent. Now me not being a big fan of hard-shelled creepy crawlies, I was not particularly crazy about his ice-breaking attempts at first like jumping out of the suitcase at me in the mornings when I went for a change of clothes or hiding underneath my hat patiently waiting for the right moment to catch me unawares. But I warmed up to him eventually. And on the last day – he even hopped into the car when we left. Obviously wanting a taste of the big city life, who can blame the guy?

So here we are – back to the real world, back to my homicidal cat, to my job, to the endless distraction of breasts in Mr CT’s face ….Fan-tastic….. Can you just hear my excitement and enthusiasm?? Can ya?

Already fantasizing about the next escape.


PRK

Sports, Beer and ..... Dresses

Okay – so it has really been a while since the last entry… apologies!! Here is a recap of everything that is happening so far.

Mr Cape Town’s sister is getting married in the near future – and I decided to shock everyone and attend in a dress…. Very brave choice on my part… and A LOT trickier than I was hoping. Not because I am a particularly fussy lass where clothing is concerned, but because I cannot seem to find a dress which was not designed to fit an ironing board…. I now have to choose whether I want my breasts or my hips to be comfortable…

Recently went to my first ever cricket game – loved it. I finally see what all the fuss is about. I was especially happy to see that you are allowed to drink on the stands. When the game started I was asking a lot of annoying questions but by the time the game was over I was jumping up and down with tomato sauce and beer stains on my jersey and wearing one of those mohawk hard-hats (which I only learned later can actually be adjusted to fit properly…. This thing was flopping all over the place much to the silent amusement of the folks I was with…)

Got a camping trip coming up!! Next week – watch this space, I will have 4 glorious days to make a complete ass of myself out in the wilderness. Who wants to take bets as to what it’ll be?? One-sided tan / burn…… near death encounter involving a palm-sized spider….. Getting drunk and passing out in a tube floating down the river… Man.. I cannot wait!! My camera will be handy for in case my bad luck somehow transfers to Mr CT and I can catch him in a mid air screech … Will suck the week dry of as much amusement for the blog as possible.

Dancing going well, finishing up with Course Number 1 this week (good for me!!). Still having loads of fun, and yes – still waiting for the rhythm to kick in. I am that tubby girl in the back corner who veers hip-first off in the wrong direction mid-routine and does not even noticed because she has her back to everyone. Nothing but a whirlwind of bum and arms complimented by the frantic ching-chinging of a coin belt. I guess the sensuality comes in one of the later courses…..

That’s all for now.

PRK

The Airbrushed Attitude...

So the first month of the year is behind me and the New Years Resolutions are going pretty strong so far….. well… some of them…. OKAY ONE OF THEM but that shit takes time, okay?? I joined a dance class recently and even though I still look like a hippo trying to balance on its back legs while using a hula hoop, it is loads of fun. And it also feels good to have something that’s all mine.

It does wonders for the self esteem – I would recommend it to anybody. It has automatically catapulted me into healthier eating as well – BONUS…. That is probably because I don’t really want to look like the only earthquake hazard in the studio while shaking the old rude box and, without realising it, causing the other students to shift uneasily away by a few paces.

It really is quite funny how whenever I am, once again, on the road to that hot little body that I always dreamed of I start to imagine how much more fabulous my life will be when I am thinner. How much happier I will always be, always smiling and laughing the worries away because I will just look too sensational to care.

Why is looking good such an essential part of feeling good?

Think about this for a moment – how good do we really look during a toe-curling orgasm? Or when we are enjoying a completely out-of-our-minds-drunken laugh attack? Or getting a head massage…

Damn you, Cosmopolitan....... DAMN YOU!!!!


PRK

Just a Bit of Trivia

I am always reading up on stuff – people’s life stories, the background dirt. No – not Entertainment Weekly’s version. That shit fascinates me. So I recently read up the life story of a notorious serial killer of the late 60’s.

Acquainted with Hollywood stars like the Beach Boys (huh??? Yep you read correctly), had a large group of followers, a singer, a song writer. Extremely influential character. Take a look at these lyrics...

PEOPLE SAY I'M NO GOOD

People say I'm no good
But they never never do they say
Why their world is so mixed up
Or how it got that way

They all look at me and they frown
Do I really look so strange
If they really dug themselves
I know they'd want to change

Everybody says you're no good
'Cause you don't do like they think you should
Do you expect them
An' do you expect you to act like them
Look at them man
Look at the fix they're in
I don't care I don't care what they say
Just let 'em sit there and burn

The young might not be so dumb after all
An' from the young you might even learn

Everybody says you're no good
'Cause Charles you don't do
You don't do like they think you should
Do you expect them to act like you
Do you expect themTo expect you to act like them

Do you expect to see
Do you expect the fool to see what a fix he's in
Do you expect the fool to see what a fix he's in

In your cardboard houses
An' your tin-can cars
You sit there and you wonder
You wonder where you are
Those diamond rings they're obscene
You sit there and you wonder
And you say who's to blame
Take a look at yourself
Take yourself off the shelf
You can't belong to nobody
With your Can't-Cough medicine
And your wonder drug
You got, more sickness
Than you got cures of

WHISPER:
Cancer o' the mind

Pretty deep when you know the history. These songs were actually recorded.

He used to sit around camp fires with his followers (his “family”) and predict racial wars which would break out which he was meant to start. He believed that a Beatles album was recorded just for him to show him how to do it. They were always quoted in his stories.

His followers, when instructed, performed sexual favours for him, broke into houses for him and even brutally murdered people for him. (DUDE – I cant even get my boyfriend to go to the MOVIES with me…)

This guy is still alive despite the fact that he was sentenced to death when they caught him. Call it perfect timing. The death penalty was dropped in that state shortly after he was sentenced. And when it was brought back later his sentence remained on Life.
His lyrics have been used in songs by Guns ‘n Roses, Marilyn Manson….

This is just a portion of the story of Charlie Manson.

PRK

Yellow

Despite the amount of shit that women are constantly accumulating and cannot seem to part with – there are very few things in life that we truly need. Yes, we do understand this. And these are the things we don’t need to search crowded shopping centres and E-Bay to find.

Orgasms, laughter, chocolate (aka stomach orgasms), compliments that make our hearts flutter (usually leading to orgasms) and, of course, our Best Friend (as terrible as this sounds…. Spirit Orgasms)

She knows more about you and your scandalous past than anyone (because she was kinda there poking you with a finger pushing you to get up to all that crazy shit in the first place). She knows how to calm you down, and she is the only person on the planet who is allowed to call your boyfriend a prick without getting a good old fashioned cunt-punt and she can handle you when you drunk and disorderly – which, lets face it, is more often than anyone would like to admit….

My best friend and I had rituals which we would tirelessly carry out on a weekly basis. We would talk about EVERYTHING, from comic book heroes to ex-lovers to brilliant tracks to world domination and of course the needless repetition of classic memories collected over the last 9 years.

(My best friend, if the comic book heroes didn’t give it away, is a dude)

I had a drinking carpet which we would plonk ourselves down on, despite the perfectly comfortable couches in the living room, with a bottle of Klippies, some coke, and a stack of CD’s which we would plough through over endless conversation and careful planning of every next song until 4 / 5 in the morning. And, boy did some of those conversations and duets get fucked up. I recall one where we were even admitting which members of the opposite sex we would shag (Eva Mendes, in case you were wondering, and probably Fergie).

The funny thing about those nights was that I never realized that one day they would end. That one day that drinking carpet would become an entrance rug in my flat and he would not be around the corner anymore. I would have to cut those shit-shooting conversations down to a sober, sneaky skype chat during office hours.

Here is to him – on his 28th birthday. I will be hitting the pub tonight, filling up on brandy and suitcases, sending him pics of the hotties and singing along, loud as possible to the good tracks – and more than likely getting home and passing out on the old drinking carpet with my drunk ass.

Miss you G. Have a good one.

PRK.

The Great WheelSpin of '99

When I was 16 and pimply, three friends and I were cruising home from the drive-in one Friday night, blasting Kenny Loggins. We were so fucking cool back then… it was unbelievable. We even had the hand movements in sync while singing along.

So *Blignaut, who this masterful Opel now belongs to, pulls into a BP garage and stops – turning to *Rift and *P-Bug and saying with a sly grin “I think its time she learns to drive”. This absolutely ridiculous suggestion was greeted with two nods and giggles – none of which came from my frozen face of horror.

Within seconds they were out of the car, pulling me from the back seat and plonking me in the driver’s seat (which didn’t take much effort despite my pleas for mercy and my spider-monkey attempt to push my entire body off the car.) And suddenly there I was – holding onto a steering wheel for the first time ever, looking directly onto the petrol pump and picturing the painful fiery death sure to come. *Rift and *Blignaut were excitedly talking together trying to explain how to pull off.

It was time…

Following *Rift’s EXACT hand-gesture directions I did the clutch / accelerator thing so fast that it resulted in the longest, most impressive wheelspin of all time, stretching out for metres. All that could be heard in City Deep on that still night was the sound of screeching rubber, drowned out only by the sound of four young terrified screams.

The petrol pump got closer, the Attendant’s eyes got wider….

I slammed on the brakes so hard that *P-Bug’s face smashed into the back of my seat causing a blood nose.

Three lit cigarettes could not have appeared faster in front of my face if I were naked.

Those are the friendships that never fade. The ones which completely yank you out of your shell and shock the shit out of you to force you to experience new things.

And despite the fact that it took me YEARS (no exaggeration) to get behind the wheel of a car again – this is one of the memories that I would not exchange for anything.

(* Changed the names, c'mon! Nobody's mothers would be THAT mean!)

PRK

Big Love and Pornography

I am an early bird, that’s one of my many curses. Regardless of how late, hammered or just plain exhausted I get into that bed; I barely make it past 7.30 on a Saturday morning.

This particular Saturday morning, as usual, I got up, and that urge hit me out of nowhere, as it usually does… I turned to give Mr CT a quick glance (Sound asleep, perfect! I should have at least 2 hours before he wakes up) I hopped out of bed and sneaked across the creaky wooden floor, quietly closing the door behind me. I grabbed my newest prize DVD and headed straight for the DVD player. Guiltily, I glanced over my shoulder before slotting it in, pressing Play, turning the sound WAY DOWN and cosying up on the couch.

Finally…. The film started.

I could not tear my eyes from the screen. Every word, every movement had my undivided attention. I became so engrossed that I didn’t even hear the floor creak under his weight as he sleepily made his way from the bedroom to the living room behind me. Standing there, still in his underpants he glanced from the screen to me wiping the tears from my eyes and gave a loud, exasperated sigh and threw his hands in the air… . “Oh my GOD!!! Not P.S. I Love You AGAIN!!??!! How many time have you WATCHED this?” and with an annoyed huff and a few mumbles I didn’t care to translate as he walked back out of the room.

“You wouldn’t understand…” I called feebly after him and giggled as I re-composed myself and came back down to earth. I took one last glance at Hilary Swank slowly singing I Love You Til The End to Gerard Butler’s ghost in a Karaoke bar and got up to start my normal day in real life – and of course, to avoid the inevitable smirks I would be getting for being a total wimp.

P.S. I Love You is one of the most beautiful stories I have ever seen, a close second to The Notebook. And there are not a whole bunch of women out there who can disagree with me.

A good romance is like a woman’s equivalent to pornography.

It’s pure escapism. Men fantasize about unrealistic sex, women fantasize about unrealistic romance. We imagine ourselves as this beautiful, irresistible heroine with a charming hero who meets her and his entire life changes. Who looks at her as though the world would end if they never saw each other again. Who wants to know everything about her because she is just that captivating. Basically, the kind of unrealistic love that only exists in the first month of an actual relationship before all of our nasty little flaws spill out and the fact that we are only human is apparent.

Same way men imagine themselves getting onto a luxury bus of cowgirl cheerleaders who all cannot resist the very sight of them and basically go for a long series of enjoyable rides (very intentional pun).

We are all allowed to dream....

Relocation

My first official post....

So, just began my second year in a new city. Still waiting for it all to settle and become "normal", still trying my best to tone down the loud sarcasm and the humour that only Jo'Burgers find amusing. Ahhhh JHB - the only place I know of where a loud appreciative laugh and a loud "fuck off" go hand-in-hand as a generally accepted response to a friendly tease.

When one is raised in Joey's and relocates to Cape Town - it is like changing planets!

Unfortunately, I have learned that CapeTonians really do live up to their reputations where the "clicky" rumours are concerned. Trying to fit into a group of CT buddies is like trying to ice-skate wearing roller blades. No matter what you try - it JUST DOESNT WORK!

In the full year that I have been here I have successfully made friends with 2 (yes.... TWO) people outside of my boyfriend's "click". And the funny thing is that these two souls are not from around here, and also can't seem to meet people. We should start a club... Who is with me???How can a place be so beautiful and so unfriendly at the same time?? Cape Town is a super-model.

I must say though - it is kinda nice to be in a place where you can actually enter the city centre at night and not be mauled to death for your hairband, or to be able to walk home from the pub at midnight and not have to glance over your shoulder every 5 seconds.

So here I am!! Bringing my Johannesburg sense of humour to the beautiful (like) mountain of (like) Cape Town (bruuuuuu).

Hope that you enjoy my ramblings....

PRK.