Fucked-upness soars on, and gains momentum as mid-week is upon us.
I have heard some astounding snippets of conversation over the last 24 hours. Either everyone around me is, in fact, mentally deranged, or a vat of Truth Serum has found it's way into the Rand Water system.
I bank on the former, based on what has emerged from people's ridiculously crap-talking pie-holes over the last day:
“Ooh what's that beautiful smell? Is someone burning a scented candle, or did someone spray something?”
No it's a spray.
“Ooh can I have some?”
It's a spray...specifically used to repel dogs from pissing on the furniture.
“...Can I have some anyway?”
“Let's have a dinner party.”
Delightful idea. Who should we invite?
“I don't know...the usual crowd is so boring these days.”
I know. Let's invite our ex boyfriends as well as our current boyfriends. You know...just to spice things up.
“...And our ex's new girlfriends.”
....Let's also invite our boyfriend's ex's.
“Just make sure we use paper plates so nothing can be smashed when people start throwing shit at each other.”
The girls would kill each other; the boys would become best mates. Just watch.
“Please can the ex girlfriend's arrive first.”
Then, just as a cat fight erupts....our clandestine lovers can walk in.
Saturday's good for me.
“I'm not coming over to see you, I don't want to get sick too.”
I'm not sick. I have my period. You can't catch my fucking period!
“I know. It's just cold outside. So I could get sick. It's not out of the question.”
“So is John coming to the event at the Rosebank Hyatt?”
“Pity. I had plans for the little bastard.”
“Like tearing off his ballbag and attaching it with duct tape to the bar counter of the Hyatt.”
Is that all?
“No. Then I'd bite off his head with my own teeth and piss down his throat.”
No really, is that all?
“Now you're just baiting me.”
“Shit...I almost put my tea in my ear and drank my phone.”
Thats nothing. Once my digsmate put his wallet in the crapper, and the cheese in the wash basket.
E is moving to Egypt. My God, just like that. So while friends come in and out of Johannesburg, luckily The Dove is back. God that's great.