A fish out of water

I must firstly apologise because I left my camera at home which means there are very few photos of this night which is the biggest shame! But for your enjoyment I did try to find some on the Internet that would accurately describe events and places. 

White people can't dance! At least one photo survived the night ...

So apparently nobody goes out in Durban on a Friday night. I found this out the hard way. But it didn't matter because my friends and I were off to the yacht club to a farewell party. It was Blake the Snake’s farewell and this guy seriously knows how to get rid of a shit load of alcohol. This was my kind of party, you know - the kind where the alcohol is free and the people are amazing. There really is nothing better than a good drink with friends. The problem is that my friends and I can’t just have a nice sit-down party without doing something really fun and stupid. So it was getting towards the end of the night and things were winding down. We had been making fun of the gigantic stuffed Marlin in the club hall when suddenly a plan was hatched! We decided that the Marlin looked sad and needed to come live at my friend Turk’s house. So we set up an elaborate plan to distract the guard (I did this by talking to him about the pros and cons of being a sea horse) and Lulu and Turk snuck the Marlin through the back door and into Turk’s car. Unfortunately the Marlin was so damn big the tip of its beak got snapped off in the car door. The Marlin took prize place on the wall above the pool table at Turk’s. We had about half an hour’s worth of fun with it by placing various
objects in an around its mouth and inevitably we were board again.

Just imagine Marlin with an assortment of cheeses in his mouth and you get the idea.

So when all else fails in Durban, Florida Road is one of my favourite places. So off we went to Florida Road. We got there and guess what? Most of my favourite bars weren't open because most of Durban parties on a Saturday. Fuuuk.

... and we all recognise Florida Road

We found a bar thought and it was cool, but not really great. I got pushed by some juiced up Guido Jersey Shore wannabe man and obviously this was not my ideal way to spend the night.

These guys tried to start
a fight with me

So we left the bar in hot pursuit of a better venue. We were standing on the pavement busy discussing our options when a loud noise caught our attention. In the tall block of flats on the opposite side of the road there was obviously a massive party going on at the top floor. So, reassessing our options, we decided that the only way we were going to have fun was by crashing that party. We go to the gate and with some very clever detective work we found the flat number and pressed their intercom. We saw that the party was in full swing by the amount of people dancing and partying on the balcony. A man answered the intercom. “Hello” We said, “are you having a party”?  “Yes” the man responded, “I am so sorry. We will try to and keep it down”. We told him that we actually wanted to come and party with him. After a short pause he said that he would be right down. This man was my hero. This was the real Mzansi spirit. He didn't know any of us but he was willing to share his party. What a champ!

He fetched us and took us all up to his suit. There were about ten of us whiteys and we arrived at a huge house party.  Everybody stopped and stared - not only because we were strangers’ gate crashing, but because out of the two hundred and something strong crowd we were the only white people. After about a second of silence we are openly welcomed by everyone with warm smiles and open arms. The music started up again and we were handed ice-cold beers. We spent the night dancing and chatting and drinking and laughing. This is what I would call a party.

This is what happens when you let white people into your party.

I just have to say that if we gate crashed a white person’s party we probably would have been assaulted and sent to hospital. I have never felt such warmth and love from strangers. Black people know how to party – and they party hard and with style. We white people can’t dance and we certainly don’t like to share. So next time you find yourself with nothing to do, go find a ‘black party’ I guarantee you the best night ever! This is such a wonderful country filled with wonderful, different people; let’s get to know our neighbours!

Dat ass. ..

Oh and that Marlin... The following morning whilst we were all nursing a hangover, Turk had to return him because somehow when the yacht club noticed the empty space on the wall where the Marlin used to be – They knew we had something to do with it. Apparently stuffed Marlins are quite expensive!

Some men...

Ladies night and I am smashed y'all!

Girls you know what it is like... You get all dolled up and anticipate a wonderful evening out with your best girlfriends. But no matter where you go there are always that pack of 'lone rangers' that think they are God's gift to all women.
I have to tell you this story because I know you can all relate to it.

Ladies you know what I mean!

It is Friday night and me and the girls are out to have some drinks and a good time. We are at some dodgy pub, but it is OK because we aren't there to meet anyone, it just happens to be the only place open in the area. We sit alone trying to avoid that inevitable group of men that would do anything for a lay. And it starts...

My (extremely beautiful) friend goes to the bar to get some drinks when this group of men starts to wolf whistle at her. They keep shouting at her to come over, that they will buy her a drink and that she is so hot, etc. Firstly boys; we can buy our own drinks, and secondly who does that? So, being the classy lady that she is, she ignores them. So then they shout at her; "It's OK, you aren't that hot anyway"! People, please!
So our night goes on and we are having a good time when we are joined by this same pack of boys (I use the word boys on purpose). Here is an account of the conversation I had with one of them - I have changed his name because this is the kinda guy who would sue me!

Me: Hello, my name is Alex. I shake his hand.
T.P: Hi, I'm Ted...Ted Pienaar (again I have changed his name).
Me: So what do you do Ted? (This is a tad bold on my part, but I have alcohol courage).
T.P: Perhaps you did not hear me. My name is TED PIENAAR. (OK people, I work in the media, I know who he is, but I don't like his attitude, so I continue.)
Me: Oh, no I heard you. I just wanted to know a little more about you. At this point his friend has joined the conversation with his offering of a Brutal Fruit!
Friend: Hay doll, my buddy here is the Ted Pienaar ... you know - the (insert sport) world champion.
Me: Oh I'm sorry, am I meant to be impressed by that? OK this was mean of me...
T.P: I am also an artist! 
Me: I ride a bike... a stationary bike at the gym every morning! My joke falls flat.
Friend: Please baby! He puts a huge stinky - sweaty arm around my shoulder. I can tell you haven't exercised a day in your life! Your body is all ... Voluptuous! Now this would normally be a compliment, but the way he said it made me feel so so... I can only describe how I felt with a picture...

The fuck did you just say to me?

We decide it is time to go.

I wanted to share this story because for that moment I felt like I wasn't good enough. And I realise that these men probably talk to everyone in this arrogant way. I can just imagine some woman falling for this act and having their feelings hurt. Ladies, we must resolve to make our own money so that we don't rely on stupid men to keep us. There is nothing sexier than a strong independent woman. This doesn't mean that you have to buy your own drinks forever, I am just saying that you do not need to change who you are to make this kind of man like you.

New Years Netherwood style

It's OK, this is just a sparkling wine, I drank the Champagne!

OK, so it is that time of the year again - time for new beginnings and fresh starts. If you haven't found that perfect job/partner/hobby/weight yet this is the time to do it. There is no excuse not to make 2013 an amazing year.

New years eve is such a complex celebration. How often have you heard your friends complain that they would rather stay at home? I will tell you what my guru Phontsog always says. He attributes a crappy new years to having too many expectations for the evening. The man is a genius! So instead of dreaming up a crazy scenario where you ride a Unicorn and kiss Russell Brand and turn into a mermaid (OK this is clearly my fantasy), why not just put on your Sunday best and treat it like your usual party night? I guarantee the night will exceed your expectations!

Gotta love a unicorn ...

I decided to spend my new years eve with great friends hanging out with the rich and the fabulous at a beautiful location in the Natal Midlands. Our gracious host had ensured the night would end in debauchery by purchasing 900 cases of Red Bull (including the Red Bull girls) and enough Jagermeister and Tequila for every one of those cases!

Netherwood, before twelve am ...

My best moments were:

Is this safe?

Lighting lanterns and watching them drift away (We were too drunk to worry about the environmental implications).


When the first lantern was lit, my friends and I were standing at the front of Netherwood so we just saw a giant glowing ball in the sky. My friend told me that it was the Red star Betelgeuse but it was travelling at such a speed! So we all concluded that it was a comet. Then it disappeared, so we just chalked it up to those Jager Bombs which we had been knocking back!

A bit of lovin...

Daddy! Staph!

Watching drunk men dance 

This included watching our hoast's mom and dad dancing on the bar top. This is the dad trying to get us drunk, and succeeding!

Netherwood after twelve am ... This is our host!

Turning the dance floor into a slip-n-slide

So this is usually a classy venue which hosts lavish weddings and fancy dinners. Why not put dish-washing liquid on the parquet floor and turn it into a water park? Even better than this was watching people slip and fall on the soapy floor!

Two drinks - because why not?

Partying with my friends

I don't care where I am or who I am with, when the music is pumping and the drinks are flowing I am a happy girl!


New years resolutions 2013
Obviously this is a New years post, so I have to give you my resolution list.

Here they are:

1. Be nicer to people. I saw a woman with a beard at gym once and I judged her, I feel bad.
2. Go back to gym. I know I said I would never go back after my Thrasher experience, http://alexsweetcharity.blogspot.com/2012/08/gym-thrasher-and-some-milfs.html but perhaps it is time to find a nice womens gym.

3. I will wear more colour. White and black are not colours...
4. Even if I am single I will bikini wax! There is no need to let myself go, I am too young to be caught with my pants down and Donald Trump's toupee on my crotch!

5. Be less annoying. I like to talk ... I guess sometimes people don't always like to listen, I will work on that.
6. Skin tone. Get a little sun, but don't overdo it. I look like the walking dead; perhaps I will trade my SPF 50 for a 30...
7. Give car guards money. In 2012 I had a strict policy on tips. The guard got a tip if they:
a) helped me find a parking IF I needed help;
b) if they helped me into and out of a tricky parking; and
c) if they did not talk to me about Jesus (and did the above).
Now I will tip them, but the Jesus thing still stands...
8. Smile. I don't smile, so people think I am an angry bitch. I am just a bitch.
9. Take more photos. The world is so beautiful, I need more memories and I am not getting any younger.
10. Write more and keep deadlines. I will ensure that I keep you all up to date on the party scene here in South Africa. The ins and outs, the ups and downs, the glamorous and fab and all the hilarious that is going on.

I wish you all a happy, healthy and wealthy 2013.

Christmas Concert at The City Hall

The City Hall in all its splendor

Christmas Carols. Yes I said it. I went to a Christmas Carol evening, but it was sponsored by our company so really I was at a work function, lets call it a work function!

I hate Christmas...

I am the Grinch. I absolutely hate Christmas. I hate the tacky décor. I hate that we pretend there is snow when we live in the Southern hemisphere. I hate that you have to get all anxious about your presents and have to pretend to be happy when you are given grey panties. Most of all I hate that there are people who are too poor to celebrate Christmas and this puts me in the worst mood around December. AND THE SHITTY CAROLS! I hate Jingle Bells, I hate Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer and I absolutely cannot stand that awful abortion that is The Little Drummer Boy! Mince pies yuck! Those Christmas cakes that are one hundred years old and filled with brandy- not edible and that pudding with money in it... How does one get excited about a cake filled with five cent pieces that inevitably shatter your teeth - and the pudding is shit anyway! You see what I mean? I really hate Christmas.

I love this man! I love anybody
that brings me food!

There I was in my Sunday best off to The City Hall to watch a Christmas Carol evening, I took Luli just so I wouldn't have to suffer alone. I was already in a bad mood - it being Christmas and all. The skies were pouring and my windscreen wipers decided not to work. So we drove in the storm, Luli with his arm out the window manually operating the windscreen wiper and myself laughing hysterically.
When we got to the City Hall I was greeted by a man I could only assume was a colleague.  We chatted as we walked but I could not introduce him to Luli because I really did not know his name. I felt so terrible because here this man was, being all sweet and I had not a clue who he was. As soon as we entered the hall he was met by his family and what a relief... he thought I was his daughter and Luli was my husband (how does one forget what their own child looks like)! Thank God I could blame it all on him!

Partying at the City Hall balcony... awww!

I loved the show! I really expected to be bored out of my mind but Singing those carols really made it fun. Now don't get me wrong, I still hate Christmas, but any evening that encompasses a sing-along and a lot of wine really makes a great evening out. I am sitting here hoarse with a hangover and I have such fond memories of the beautiful City Hall with its organ and disco lights. Oh and it is such fun to sing: Gloooooo hooooo hoooo hooo hooooo (breath) hoooo hooooria 

"I fucking love Christmas!"

The highlight of the evening has to be when the jazz singer Natalie Rungan finished a Maria Carey Christmas song and a really old granny squawked "NO MORE"! Natalie was all taken aback and a little hurt, but the granny's family quickly covered up for her and yelled: "SHE SAID ENCORE"! Ya right...
The worst thing that happened; Local singer Ruby Gill played The Little Drummer Boy - TWICE Fuuuuck seriously twice, my worst carol... with her brother actually playing the drums.



I asked some my colleagues what their worst Christmas gift was (they all asked to remain anonymous), here are their responses:

"It was this belt...the most hideous belt you have ever seen. It was bejewelled,  huge and blingy.  If you had taken the time to get to know me you would never have bought it."

"I once got a bicycle pump...I don't own a bicycle."

"I think the worst gift was a hot dog warmer...there is a steel pipe where the roll does and a metal cage for the sausages."

"Oh ya - Nothing... Not a single gift was the worst gift of all."

"I once got a little thing that you stick your hand in when you have painted your nails and it blows on them... a nail polish dryer."

"Tupperware - it was from the latest range I was told."

"Last year I received umbrella covers. They are like plastic tubes that you put over your closed umbrella." 

The fucks going on here?

I suddenly remembered the worst gift I had ever received; it was an avo with two drawn-on eyes! I was busy recounting this tale with much hilarity when I suddenly remembered that this was actually a gift that I had given someone! To that person (I think it was Megan Legan) I am so sorry... But serves you right for loving Christmas!

Here are my top Christmas hates:

1. Spending money on other people.

 2. Boney M Christmas CD -    Especially that Drummer Boy crap!

 3. Turducken! Who stuffs a duck which is obviously pregnant with a chicken into a turkey? Who does this? And here we have our G list ZAleb Nataniel pretending he is actually going to cook this Frankenstein!

4. The mall at Christmas (in fact I hate a crowded mall at any time of year). 
5. And also why do we put fake snow and Santa in his winter kit when we live in the Southern Hemisphere!WHY!

6. That bastard neighbour who trashes your street-cred with his tacky night time graffiti.









7. Christmas lights. Is it their sneaky plan to get all tangled? I always pack mine away nicely - it is as if they spend all year deliberately tangling and knotting themselves just so that they can laugh at you when you spend days trying to put them up!

This is probably on their
wish list too.

8. This intellectual fecal matter has actually made the New York Times best selling Paperback Trade Fiction of 2012, which means that there are many horny housewives who have added it to their wishlist.

I was lucky enough to get a pic of the actual Santa here.

9. You can't even enjoy the food because there is too much of it. You end up bloated on the couch all sad because that Christmas chocolate looks so yummy and you just can't fit it in!

10. Zwarte Piet, the Dutch equivalent of Santa's little helpers. What kind of Racist Bullshit is this!

I hate Christmas but I love you! Here's wishing you all the most merry Christmas filled with love and family and cheer and chocolate - And alcohol - plenty of alcohol. Love you!

Yes Santa take it all bitch!

Australian Trip: The animals

 

I have not been this afraid since Britney Spears shaved her head.
Those big rat-bastards ate all three bags of my Kangoo - Kibble and when that was finished they ate the bags too! 

Now as you already know I have seen a Huntsman spider. Actually I have seen three of these evil bastards. But this amazing country has a lot more to offer than just a mother of a huge spider (they are the size of dinner plates- lord help me). As soon as I got here I had to have a look at the country's big two, that would be the kangoo's and Koalas. But I really really wanted to get my hands on a Wombat and a Platypus.

The Sightings

I will have you know I spotted a Possum on my first day. He apparently lives in a box of old rags in my uncles shed. Upon the sound of rustling coming from a nearby tree. My mother did proclaim that we were under attack, and that there were men hiding in the bushes waiting to rape and pillage our home! My uncie, a former South African, understood her terror, but reassured her that it was a Brushtail Possum and that it meant no harm. I was lucky enough to see both the Brushtail and Ringtail Possum (the Ringtail lived in a tree in my cousins yard, he would wait for the stray cat to leave and then eat all the goodies in the veggie patch).
Interesting facts: There are hundreds of street merchants all over Melbourne who sell Possum knit jerseys. Apparently they are one of the worlds warmest hollow-fibres. Unfortunately one does not simply shave a Possum, hey must be hunted.



Kooki perched on top of Cocky.

I was also lucky enough to see my Uncies resident Kookaburra (top left). Every evening he is to be found between Cocki's cage or the washing line swooping down to eat some worms.
Cocki is my uncles pet Yellow-crested Cockatoo. In South Africa we pay thousands for one of these ugly parrots, but here they are native. I am told that they often will flock in and run riot over a farmers crop leaving chaos and destruction in there wake. It is for this reason that farmers will often go out and shoot hundreds of them, they are like Australia's Pigeon. Cocky was a patient at my uncles veterinary practice having suffered a broken wing. He was nursed back to health in Uncies yard and then released. Cocky obviously favours his cage because whenever he is released he just flies onto the porch and knocks on a window until somebody puts him back in his cage. I was lucky enough to see a whole flock of Cockys sitting in a tree.
Interesting Facts: Once kept in captivity it is unlawful to release a Cockatoo, obviously Cocky is a straight and narrow kinda guy.

Chilling!
Koalas do not like to get wet!

On the second day of my holiday we were off to spot some wild Koalas. I searched high and low on our trip to Apollo Bay when suddenly I spotted one. We all jumped out of the car and took about a billion photos of this one guy high up on a branch. But friends I will give you the best advice - I wish someone had told me his fact - One should not be spotting Koalas, it is best to look out for a large congregation of cars and tourist buses. As we turned the corner from our poor lonesome Koala we spotted the rest of the heard, hundreds of them sitting (and shitting) above all the tourists below. I am told that it is rare to see them in the wild, but there were hundreds.
Interesting Facts: Koalas are not friends, they are scary as hell and if you get close enough to one their body odour is incredibly pungent, an obvious deterring mechanism. If this fails they are host to razor sharp teeth and claws like a ninety-year-old grandmas feet.  

Lucky to be alive.
I took this pic before he started scratching
and moulting all over my jacket.

Kangaroo... Just the way I like it!

On our third day adventure we set off to Ballarat Wildlife Park to feed some Kangaroos and to see my beloved Wombat and Platypus. I have never been so excited in my life! Kangaroos everywhere! I was so delighted when a little Joey hopped my way and ate his Kangaroo- kibbles from my hand. I was lulled into a false sense of security by this bastard. He had obviously told his gang of Kangoos and before I knew it they were in attack mode. I barely made it out alive. I was lucky to see these creatures two weeks later in their natural habitat (that is to say a farmers crop). I had to zoom in on this pic, but there you go, in the middle left corner those bastards are bouncing  about. In a kind of poetic justice, after taking this pic I settled down to a nice Kangaroo roast.

Interesting Facts: Kangaroos cannot be farmed as they are a national emblem. They are however hunted for their meat as it is lean and tasty, the hunting also acts to cull the population. Also there is a lot to say about a Kangaroos genitals but I will leave it to you to google those facts... 

Pickles is five-months-old.

I am in love with his little piggy snout.

Here he is; Pickles the baby Wombat! I was so so excite to scratch his little baby head! I want a little Wombie soo bad! And then I got to see the Hairy- nosed Wombat. Slightly larger than the common Wombat but so damn cute!

Interesting Facts: Wombats make cubed poops! I do not understand the intricacies of their sphincters, but there you go... Cubes!

Ahhh nature you are so... Cubist!

I am yet to see my elusive Platypus in the wild. I am told that they are very rare and extremely shy, but I was lucky enough to spot one at the mall.
 

Platypus... Not quite what I expected, but in Australia you expect the unexpected!

After all is said and done I must admit that I do actually have love for the Kangaroo and the Koala and I hope to see them again very soon.

 

After finishing all his kibble, Boris ate the bag as well!