running on turbo

This weekend passed had to be the most manic, turbo-charged, unbelievable, badly-behaved weekend I have had this year to date. Can you say holy crap?

Story of the weekend (it was hard, there are too many):

I invited Guy Have Eye On to my mate N’s braai. Was ecstatic, because he bought me a present: stripy fucking toe socks. Wonderful. I then smsed Ant to tell her, saying “I’m so excited! My boyfriend [He] bought me toe socks! With stripes and everything!”
'Cept, I didn’t send that to Ant. I sent it to him. Fuck. (Do I cause my own chaos? Do I?)

Mild frenzy, pulling out hair, me running out of the house, when the realisation hit me. Friends trying to frantically find his phone before the damage is done – but oh no it’s in his pocket. Naturally.
E ran up to him, swiped his phone out of his hand as he reached for it, and said, "Hi! Wow! What an incredible phone! So I am thinking of getting an upgrade, can you run me through your gadget?" Then the poor girl had to chat to him about phone technology for a full-on 20 minutes, while he’s already seen the disastrous sms anyway. I was, in the meantime, hiding in N’s garage, where the maid found me lurking between the fertiliser and the wood.
Oh dear. He thinks I’m a stalker, I’m convinced of it. And before that we played such a great game of tennis. Sigh. Fuck fuck I always do this! Email or sms the wrong fucking person!

Weekend highlights:

Friday night go out with C, starting off at The Palms, where a ‘Mr Naidoo’ was buying us drinks all night. (“If you gonna buy for me buddy, best you buy for my friends as well.”) Hit Loaded in Newtown for party and get so completely wasted, (when I’m with E and C, this happens. Messy. We usually get other people who were with us to fill in what we did for the night.)

Walk around with my shoes dangling from my ears, sit on E’s lap, and give her a bum lapdance while she’s trying to take a pee in a toilet cubicle with C on top of me, after jumping the queue and telling everyone we’re going in, so fuck off (since when did I become so rude?) Head butt someone by accident. Was so messy. Then get up on the bar, and, and, oh God. Smash Wimpy burgers in our faces at 3:00am on Empire Road. We demanded they open up especially for us.

Next day think I’m going to kick the bucket from the hangover that pursues. Go to N’s braai and start again. (And we all know what happened there.) My best mate Doc is off to India for two years. I'm a little cut up about this. He had a farewell party on Saturday, where he got naked and danced round the house willy a-swinging as a farewell goodbye. A kissed a good mate of mine. This is both appalling and funny at the same time, not to mention weird. And luckily, we have chosen to forget about it.

Have psycho-bitch girlfriend of Ex S’s berate me, dump him because he said hello to me, then try and get cosy with his mates. Then get all insecure and try to tell my mates that I will break everyone’s hearts, telling people what I have allegedly done in my relationships and whining and moaning over what men see in me. THis bitch has never met me before, so who is she to say that? This is meant to be a 30-year old with her shit together. Anyway, she's clearly a little nuts, so I accompanied poor Ex S to a wine tasting yesterday evening as his fill-in date. There's more to come with this pyscho lady, I just know it.

Phew. Party after party after party, with a pyscho lady that wants to kill me thrown in for fun. It's like it's the eve of 1999...