Tuesday, September 12, 2006

birthday parties and crazy dog

This is a long post, so please bear with me: the weekend was incredible.

Birthday party was so much fun! Our mates all came through to a swish establishment for pre-drinks before hitting it hard. God I love having all my mates in one room at one time. R was meant to be in Cape Town over the weekend and had taken me out for waffles last week to make up for his absence, but pitched up to surprise me. Bless.

Moogs and I phoned Doc in India twice – passed the phone around the table, needless to say his phone bill will be horrendous. I came as Mutton Dressed as Lamb – a poppie with a short white skirt and white heels. My folks even popped in for a drink and my mother said something along the lines of, “ You know, Peas, now that you’re 26…”
Peas: Hold the phone right there. Almost 26 Mum.
Mum: Now that you’re almost 26, you have to start dressing appropriately. You know, your age.

Gack! The girls all took me out afterwards, N, Klo, C, E. Ie: the Most Hilarious Chicks On The Planet. We properly ripped it. Had such an awesome night.

We all stood around debating where they were going to take me. (Friday night? After Jagerbombs aka rohypnol? I wonder where on Earth we will go?) Why we debated this is beyond me. Naturally we ended up at Manhattan. Naturally I ended up on Forbsie’s shoulders again, this time in a teensy weensy poppie skirt, and naturally I kissed another Eastern Cape farmer.
OK what is up with that? He was actually very nice, even though he kept on saying “You’re crazy man.” Like over and over again. C needs to meet a farmer, not me. Do I look like someone who would milk cows? For some reason they have become quite the common denominator in my scoring record of late.

This time, we stayed there until LAST ROUNDS. 5:00am. They have that there. Unbelievable. The Ant I got some awesome gifts, like a gorgeous bottle of wine and How To Walk In High Heels from Moogs and L, spa gift voucher, shoes, a singing pig whose mouth opens and closes, earrings, underwear, and of course Ramone Allones penis-shaped pasta that grows in size when cooked. The best thing about the evening was that our ‘boyfriends’ were there. Well the people we tend to claim as our boyfriends but they either have girlfriends/are useless/don’t know we exist/have boyfriends/are our mates but don’t know we call them our boyfriends.

Woke up on Saturday with extremely sore feet and an even sorer head. Was told by The Ant that I was holding my ‘boyfriend’s’ hand at the pre-drinks bash. I don’t remember this. I’m so embarrassed for myself. And all my male mates were flirting with my mother.

C the next morning: “Oh. My. Shattered. Nerves. Can we be thee drunkest girls on the planet? I kissed my boyfriend.”

N the next morning: “The fucking car guard stole my wallet. But somehow I managed to afford more drinks than I ever have in my life. I’m going to back to bed for the rest of the day.”

Me the next morning: “Oh my fuck. I held my boyfriend’s hand last night, I scored another farmer, and… where are my shoes?”

Message sent to Klo that night on my phone: Klo did u score me i kissed eastern cape farmer new one bye.

E the next morning: “Can I be in hell right now? I have to drive to the Magaliesberg today.”

Klo the next day: “We were dancing in the bathroom. Like up against the basins.”

My step-dad the next day: “Third Roommate tells me you use the Francophile card all the time. He did, however, have a lot to say about espetada.”

R the next morning: “You feeling top notch or do you wanna cotch? By the way, when I entered you into the 94.7, I wrote down in the entry form under ‘medical conditions’ that you’re a nymphomaniac. They think you’re going to hump everything in sight for 94.7 kms. So if you’re followed the whole way by cops, don’t be alarmed.”

Then there was the dog. This is traumatic. On Saturday, I’m not even lying: a dog wouldn’t leave me alone. No, not a dog as in a complexionally-challenged male. A dog. A canine. I went to a braai with C and N, and this bloody dog accosted me the moment I got there. I knew nobody at this braai – the room was filled with a whole of men trying to watch rugby – and the dog made an erratic beeline for my backside. No, but it wouldn’t stop.

It chased me around the house panting, while I, hungover, ran through the establishment screaming in terror, up the stairs, into the garden, street, almost throwing myself in the pool, etc. being harassed by a flipping dog. Was not coping with the situation. I interrupted the first half of the Australia-SA game because a dog was trying to get fresh with me, simply because it couldn’t help itself. A female dog on heat. Who obviously caught on that I am on heat or thinks I’m in desperate need of a lesbian shag.

This dog nearly made me leave the braai – it was epic. It slobbered all over me the whole afternoon, humping my leg, licking me, aiming for my ass. I was so embarrassed and freaked out, I had a panic attack. An hysterical panic attack. C and Klo were hyperventilating and crying in hysterics too, which didn’t help. Nobody else got this bitch on heat treatment Just me. I cannot tell you how much I disdain Irish Setters right now.

I then departed to another braai, where I played ball and mop props with R, L Ramone and Moogs. I fell off the ball and landed on my coccyx, did handstands, danced with the mop, stood on R’s leg (?), and admittedly drank too much Bacardi and coke, thanks Ramone for making me hammered and falsely-athletic.

I dreamt on Saturday night I found out plans about a coup d’etat and never did anything about it. And people were bombed and hurt as a result. Losers complex of note. Woke up and had a little cry. Even though it was just a dream. And God help me, please may it just be a dream.

Sunday was spent having a chilled lunch at Moyo with C and Little C and walking around Zoo Lake. Was nice. Awesome weekend, awesome.

31 comments:

Anonymous said...

Sounds like you achieved exactly what you were aiming for! :) The humping dog saga sounded hilarious, except for the violation parts. I did notice that you didn't squeeze in any time for 94.7 training ;-)

Anonymous said...

Wow. sounds awesome indeed. The dog story is hilarious!

So.. 2 days till the blog-Indaba. I perused their website. it sounds as if you are going to have fresh blog content pouring from your fingertips upon your return (not that you need it).

Getting excited?

Peas on Toast said...

Crusoe - Nope, no trianing put in for 94.7, back at square one basically, not that I ever actually left square one come to think of it! :) And yes the weekend was great..barring the dog scenario ;)

O-D - Yip two days till Indaba, getting very excited and a little nervous. I'm pretty certain a night out at the Rat will give me plenty to blog about alone. I hope I can get internet access down there, otherwise I may need to dictate a post to Ant over the phone. :)

Anonymous said...

Imagine how toned your arms are going to get if you milk cows every morning...those guns, those guns.

Anyway, honestly been thinking of it, and one farmer in my life is probably enough, I need a guy with a multi billion rand compnay in Jzi, to fund my farming activities...

Anonymous said...

hehe. there are 2 internet cafe's on High Street (the main road in GTown) that i know of. besides, this is after all blogging indaba, i'm sure they realise that if their guests don't get their daily fix of internet, they'll have a slight problem on their hands.

Peas on Toast said...

C - wahahaha! Milking cows, cleaning pigs trotters, as long as I can do this in heels I guess it wouldn't be so bad! :)
Dude remember the oke who was loving your guns on Friday. Except those weren't your guns...;)

O-D - awesome, good to know O-D. I can nip down to the cafe to get my blogging fix :)

Anonymous said...

Glad you made it through in one piece. We would have been devastated if the weekend had got the better of you (but what a glorious way to go).

Anonymous said...

GOOD TIMES! thanks for an awesome weekend peas & cie... and remember the penis pasta is best served in a creamy white sauce... or so i'm told.

Peas on Toast said...

Kyk - we made it through alive, can you believe it! :)

Ramone - white wine sauce and penis pasta. That's what's on the menu when we have you round for dinner my boy! :)

Peas on Toast said...

Hey peanut!

Firstly - awesome you going to the states. Make sure you have all these in order: a place to stay, with someone 'sponsoring' you stay there. Even if they live in Phoenix Arizona and you're going to NYC, have a letter from them saying they basically are putting you up and that you're not a terrorist.

Don't make any terrorrist jokes. They WILL ask you in your visa interview if you're a terrorist, neo-Nazi, been involved in political warfare. Don't laugh and crack a joke, they never laugh.

They shouldn't turn you down, just have all your shit together: extra ID photos, bank statements proving you have cash, your airline ticket, (with return), and cash to pay for the actual visa. (They don't usually take cards.)

Mine was hardcore because I needed to have a confirmed job before I went. Luckily I somehow managed to clinch one.

Good luck Peanut! Where you going?

Champagne Heathen said...

Peas, sounds like an excellent weekend. Well done on good b.day celebrations?

Any idea which country you were dreaming was going to be coup'd?? I am sure there are several African leaders who would pay you good money to be their soothsayer.

Anonymous said...

Peanut:
Agreed with Peas, make sure you have all your papers in order. Another useful document to have is a letter from your current employer, or varsity to say that you are coming back.

Peas on Toast said...

Champs - well, that coup dream was most traumatic. I remember seeing a lot of hockey fields. At a school or something. I think it happened here. Help! (Anywayone keen for a drink after work at Wanderers? I think not! ;)

C - always a wealth of information my little poen. :) Yip Peanut, C is actually the one to ask - she's been over there twice now to work. Bless. Cosmopolitan C. ;)

Anonymous said...

Peas : dont get me wrong here, but does your life revolve around getting DRUNK? . . . and umm..getting DRUNK?...

what else is happening in your life?

fida

Peas on Toast said...

Pretty much.
It was my birthday bash though, so in all fairness, I wasn't going to sit at home and watch reruns on the Series Channel.

But yes, I'm a complete soak.

Champagne Heathen said...

fida, you seem to ask that question like getting drunk is something to be despised! Surely I have misread it?

And if Peas is anything like me, getting drunk is sideline slip up to good moments in one's life. Bounding along and suddenly, "Oops, I am drunk. Ah well, let's carry on anyway. Good times".

Maybe it means that 1 of the private schools around here will soon be having its little kiddies stand up and say "No More of this Colonial ridiculousness". THAT is something I would chuckle at seeing.

Peas on Toast said...

I'm with Champs. It's a sideline to the good times. I'm in a stage in my life where hanging out with mates, having fun, going out and ripping it up is what I do. It's usurped staying in and watching DVDs with a boyfriend.

Anonymous said...

Peas, you are one mad hatter!

What a blast, the evening was one to remember. If I hear one more thing about wearing Doc's shirt there'll be hell to pay, besides I look much better in it anyway... moogs

Anonymous said...

Peas - It's hard to keep track of who you kissed, whose hand you held and whether the snog was worth it.
I don't believe in "dressing your age". I think staying young means not getting mixed up in some societal idea of what being older should mean.

Peas on Toast said...

Moogs, you're hysterical. You were about to lose your rag my dear:
"Dude, why you wearing Doc's shirt?"
"Isn't that Doc's shirt?"
"Did you take his stuff now that he's in India?"

Wahahaha, you were about to crack. Doc would've loved to have heard all this.
A laugh a minute, my little shmoogles. xx

Peas on Toast said...

Jam - I know it all starts to blend together after a while, doesn't it? Whose hands I am holding, who I am kissing, all that. :)

Look, admittedly I dressed like a 16-year old nipper-snapper on purpose. But still, tha chances of me now wearing pant suits and stuff is severely low. It just ain't gonna happen if I'm going out on the piss. :)

Antoine said...

I was buggered just reading how hectic the weekend was.

Thats the way to spend a birthday weekend!!!

Peas on Toast said...

Antoine - tiring hey? ;)

Anonymous said...

So that is where my Taurus shirt went! Jees moogs. You are welcome to send it to apartment C-104 Ambience Island,....( email me for the remainder)
PS. we both know my Salmon pink fabs dominated your accountant-type, blue with white collar and cuffs- at the notorious "shirt-off" compo in melville, which peas ajudicated. Doc

Peas on Toast said...

So he did bloody well steal it!

So busted Moogs! (You should see how defensive our little shmoogles gets Doc. You would've been on the floor. He was on proper form.)

Anonymous said...

Very cool book - How to walk in High Heels. Hope you have a great day up top your B/day. Enjoy Rhodes, and don't behave, take pictures *efg*

Revolving Credit said...

Peas, what a lag, I'd had visions of the dog humming 'Ass like that' while chasing you round the house.

Don't worry about the coup d’etat dream, its just you sub-conscious threatening to reclaim your body from the party-demon that normally possesses it around that birthday time of year.

Peas on Toast said...

Syllable - thanks my lovely. :)

Rev - ha ha! The dog was a NIGHTMARE. Can't tell you how epic it was. :)

As for coups, I have a subliminal thing about hockey I think. :)

Anonymous said...

Damn today is a drag! Where the hell have all the public holidays gone?

Anonymous said...

Moogs used to steal our joks at varsity!! So nothing to worry about Peas...now you have the retort of the week at your disposal...backatya mrs morris.... :-)

Anonymous said...

eastern cape farmer here! Youre crazy man!!!!!