Girls weekend at the Oyster Box

Don't dare me. I am immune to embarrassment. I will do the splits at a club! This is me at Cottonfields.

It has often been said that when boys get together all hell breaks loose. Personally I have never heard more smutty talk or had more inappropriate fun than during a night out with the girls.
I spent this weekend in Umhlanga at The Oysters - quaint little time-share apartments on the property of The Oyster Box Hotel. OK I'm lying, there is nothing quaint or little about these apartments. I suppose when you are riding on the coattails of the famous Oyster Box Hotel there is nothing to do but be glam, and for a holiday home the Oysters certainly are this. You have a beautiful ocean view, stunning furnishings and all the accouterments of stylish modern living. Although appreciated, these luxuries did not stand in the way of three girls going crazy on a debaucherous weekend away.

You know - classy!

The first thing we did was pop open the Champagne - but in a classy way, you know, with strawberry's and such; turned on VHI and danced to some sweet 80's classics - Michael Jackson, Madonna, Tina Turner, Whitney, Wham, Boy George - I love a girls night! Once we got all the alcohol out of the way it was off to The Oyster Box Lighthouse Bar.  An expensive, over- the- top drinking lounge. Let me tell you about The Oyster Box... basically it is a really beautiful colonial-style five-star hotel that overlooks the Umhlanga lighthouse, which was built at the same time in 1869. It was originally the first beach cottage in the area and has come a long way since. All the rich and famous stay here, most famously our own Princess Charlene and Prince Albert of Monaco on their honeymoon in SA. So you have to be rich as fuck to afford a weekend here. The cheapest rooms available are R 4000 and if you are staying in a presidential suit you pay around R54000 a night, (that's $6489.40) - small change really! But so worth it.

The doorman was so sweet in his little safari suit, and very patient when we asked him to take a million pictures of us.

Beautiful view of the Umhlanga Lighthouse.

The décor is absolutely incredible and there is a legendary high tea (2:30 pm - 5pm) that I have to recommend.  

Eeerrrrmigeeerd! Look at how
delicious!

We got to the Lighthouse bar and ordered our first drinks. The winner of Master Chef Australia was there, what's his name? Andy Allen or something. There were just a bunch of really strange old men hanging about so we gulped our drinks down, paid our bill and left. But not before taking some classy pics in the over decorated WC.

The Lighthouse Bar

I love a glass of wine.

Nothing like a classy bathroom pic. Thank Gawd nobody walked in!

From there we stumbled over the road to Cottonfields bar, elegantly called "Cotties" by the locals. I refuse to use this name - it sounds like something a baby spat up on its mothers shoulder! We met some divers, drank a lot of Tequila, I did the splits and then we met Jerry. Jerry the wooden Giraffe was being abused by a bunch of drunken cross-dressing males on what was obviously a stag night. I cannot stand this kind of abuse- so I snatched him away (he now lives a peaceful life on a verandah in Pietermaritzburg). We stumbled home at around three in the morning. We ate pizza and slept in.

Jerry, you old rascal!

After spending a wonderful day shopping, it was off to The Origin (remember this place http://alexsweetcharity.blogspot.com/2012/06/lesbians-surfers-and-worst-massages.html )for another debaucherous evening.
As soon as we pulled up we could see a queue around the block. Bad news for my friend and I who had just finished a bottle of wine each and a little car-car bottle of gin and tonic. We were about to break the queue and pee in the alley next to that sleeping hobo who has been there since I can remember. Actually he probably died many months ago... I digress. Suddenly the bouncer split the line like the red sea and we found ourselves at the front of the queue. Good news for our dresses, urine doesn't go well with couture.

Me and the girls at Origin.
What is up with my duck face? Who is this man?
 What is going on? Who am I?

I have a problem with women bar tenders, they never serve me, I don't know if it's because I am short or I don't know - having fun while they are at work. I don't know what I do wrong. I tip, I smile, and I sure as hell am going to spend a lot of money, so I don't get the attitude. I waited at the bar for a long time whilst everyone else came and went. Eventually I was the only person at the bar and the bitch decided to start texting and fucking around with God knows what. I am sobering up, but handling the situation better than my girl who spat her gum at the bitch and then called her a slut! That did the trick and many tequilas later we discussed the fact that women hate women, and then we got into a conversation about how we shouldn't call people "sluts" just because they dress like prostitutes and refuse to serve us. I would like to apologise at this point because I realise that this behaviour does not become me...

So it was three O'clock and I got a message from The American, remember that guy 

( http://alexsweetcharity.blogspot.com/2012/05/meat-pie.html ). He was in the queue. YESSSSSSS! I air hi-fived myself, and suddenly an awesome song started playing and I forgot all about him waiting in line until I bashed into the poor guy on the dance floor...

What I can tell you is that I had an amazing night. And I had the most glamorous moment the next morning when I got into a taxi and asked the driver to take me to The Oyster Box!

Us girls on the jumping castle the next day. Please note I have not slept or changed out of my clothes from the night before - it took a haircut to get my knots out!