Between my Facebook fortune cookie saying Move on already, my horoscope saying, Although you don't believe you'll ever find someone as perfect as you, prepare for something unexpected, and my unbelievably high libido at present, I had another napover with Quadruple Napover Guy on Friday.
No, I didn't sleep with the chap – I don't just do that, and no, I'm not giving details of ac otherwise.
I was however asked by his prospective digsmate the following morning:
“So Peas, have you got POG?”
Peas: What's that?
Other digsmate: “I'm hungry, you hungry Peas?”
Peas: Shit, I'm ravished. [pause] I mean, famished. Sorry.
Another crazy night was had at the Manhattan Club.
Let me tell you something for nothing: Everything is fine until you hit traffic, and lose everyone.
Like everyone in that place, I am single, drunk and horny. And maybe I am getting old – God I've been told enough times this week that I am, it's gotta have an affect on a girl eventually – but I can't stand being bumped the fuck around. Especially when a place is packed. Just going to the loo to take a slash there on a Friday night means one has to shimmy oneself past more drunk, horny and single people – snagging buttons and bra straps along the way.
Now I just file through people like Terry the quarterback guy. Bump into them and barge my way through snogging creatures, leaving “Bitch, you just bumped me” and “ouch ferfucksakes, you just stood on my foot, you skank” in my wake. It makes me smile.
Did flick a hoof on the dancefloor and drink tequila though, which was fun.
And on Sunday, I took a newcomer around Hillbrow to show him the real Joburg. I love playing David Attenborough of the Ghetto.