caned

Well any thoughts of reclusiveness were rapidly abolished this weekend gone.

It’s 03:23am Saturday morning. I’ve just come back from Manhattan. I’m as pissed as the guy who lives on the porch of Kung Fu Kitchen and drinks Joburg Beer straight out the carton. But never have I felt such clarity in my entire life. About everything and everyone.

I actually haven’t just come back from that cheesy, yet strangely pleasant, night club in Rivonia. I’ve just come back from dropping Cute Unshaven at his complex so drunk out of his skull, he can’t talk. I’m certain he leopard crawled to his front door. If he gets there before 6:00am, I’ll be very surprised.

It all started off at a wine tasting evening on Friday with The Ant’s Italian society. Moogs, L, Third Roommate, C, The Ant of course, and her lovah The Gilb, and a room filled with Angelo’s, Franco’s, Dino’s and Daniella’s. It was molto bellissimo. Then Moogs, L and I got the proverbial bee in our bonnets and headed to Manhattan, mainly because all I wanted to hear was “Shake That Ass For Me”, and shake my ass appropriately in honour of Eminem and Nate Dogg for writing such a masterpiece. Cute Unshaven started phoning me every five minutes saying he was on his way there to meet me. He never did, even though he kept on professing he was, indeed, there.
Riiiiight, ok.

Three Jagerbombs, a tequila and an ass shaking later, he phoned to ask me please to pick him up in Parkhurst, [nowhere near fucking Rivonia], and I thought, stupidly mind you, “Shame. Poor oke. He’s stuck, drunk and without a ride home.” So drove to Parkhurst, only to stop for a lollipop on the way. He carried on phoning throughout the duration of the journey, possibly because he’d forgotten he’d phoned me prior to every bloody call.

Got there, picked him up, he ate half my lollipop and was as conversationally exciting as a padded cell – not saying anything, except crap really. I took him to our flat, and picked up The Ant and The Gilb to accompany me in taking him home. I couldn’t deal. I can’t explain it: I deal with drunk friends and lovers all the time. He was awkward, strange, quiet. He just said and did the wrong things the whole episode. It wasn’t funny, it was irritating. Just characterless. I think perhaps, on the good side of completely dull. I took a right turn when he tried to kiss me.

Maybe I can just see through people now. Not every man I’m going to be with is going to be right for me, I’m not that hopeless and unrealistic romantic anymore. I’m pickier now. I know what I don’t want. And I don’t need reaffirmation of who I am through a boyfriend any longer. This is an epiphany, you do realise.

Gilb, Ant and I, all in our slippers, dropped him off after an excruciatingly awkward journey where I couldn’t stop giggling because I realised suddenly that I am so not ready for a relationship at the minute.

In that, I came home feeling like a hero. Throughout the last two months where I have been sad, cynical, heartbroken and filled with longing for the one I loved to come back to me, etc, etc, etc, I have actually learnt something. I’d really rather just be with me. For the moment. Or forever, if that’s what it has to be.

Saturday was spent giggling until tears ran down our cheeks with my dear mate The Dove, who I haven’t seen in ages. When I bit my tongue almost in half while crying with laughter. And in one sentence she basically summed up why I can write about my daily occurrences in a blog, for instance.
“Peas so much stupid shit happens to you.”

Tis true.

Then Unshaven (notice how the Cute has seemingly fallen away), phoned to apologise for his conduct, or lack thereof on Friday and begged me to go to dinner with him Saturday night. I don’t know why I said yes, but perhaps because I’m a girl who lets those I’m not interested in down easy.

He picked me up in a car with a canoe on top of it. Don’t ask.

While we ate sushi, I told him I’m still cut up over the last relationship and best he leave me and my baggage to it for the moment. He seemed ok with it, but still wants to see me. Oh dear.

I then joined C and the others at the Colony. It was the funniest, messiest, most unbelievably fucking crazy night I’ve had in a good long while.
Fuck me. We got absolutely caned. Sang karaoke, only to scream the following during Roxette’s Sleeping in My Car between choruses:
1) “Hey beautiful – take off your shirt!” (Said to drunk weirdo who was pinching C’s ass the whole night)
2) “Hey, tall guy, get out of the way, you’re blocking the screen.”
3) Howling like coyotes into the mic.
4) “Aren’t we just fucking fantastic!”
5) “The couple sucking face over there – SMASH HIM IN YOUR FACE!”
6) “Forbsiiiiiieeeee! [our mate] Show us your ass!”
7) Then sharing the mic with another mate, which I kept bashing her teeth with while planting said mic in her face, resulting in loud ‘thonks’ in between singing.
The whole place turned around in half amusement, half disbelief while we threw our name everywhere. We were the messiest girls at the establishment, and that’s saying a lot when you’re doing this at The Colony Arms. It’s quite a feat.

And we did a Lionel Richie number too. Everyone managed to suck deplorable face, while I was quite happy just to watch and laugh at C and Forbsie, who has a chest hair complex (when we tried to rip his shirt off) and then put me on his shoulders. The night was messy and completely out of control. It was hysterical.

Then Small Bum entered the building. And having drunk cane and crème soda all evening, my mood rapidly took a new direction. I tried to run away, but he seemed to find his way to the dance floor where I’d rapidly run, came up behind me and had the cheek to grab me from behind with a touchy feely hand and try to talk to me.
Small Bum: “Hi.”
Peas: Hello.
Small Bum: “How are you.”
Peas: Great! How are you.
Small Bum: “Great thanks.”
Peas: Fantastic. Well gotta go.

Nice to see his mates though, they are quite a hoot. One asked me if it’s true Guy I’ve Had Eye On and I are going out. (Errr, no.)
Came home, had a cane wobbly over Small Bum, cried crocodile tears, read his fucking three page letter again and passed out on the lounge carpet to be woken up by a confused The Ant. Unshaven asked me to a braai. I declined.

The Ant bought two beautiful leather studio chairs for our lounge. We had a tea party with Moogs and R to celebrate.

Barring the cane crying, a fucking incredible weekend.
OK now back to my little dark hole again. At least for the week.