Hair of the Beaver

Hey there all you upper-west-siders (people who live in high flats and still like the 90’s boy band Westlife formerly known as Westside). Tittle-tale tranny here (hey, we all know that the real identity of Gossip Girl is Chuck Bass who loves to wear skirts). But I digress.

You honestly can't get more gay than this

Apologies for a whole week with no new post (how were you all coping at work?). However, my excuse is the humorous subject of my blog this week. I was drinking.

Yup, there I said it. I could’ve pretended that I had spent my days at work being incredibly productive and over-achieving. I wasn’t (still unnaturally addicted to Tetris. See previous blog post here). I could’ve lied and said that I spent my evenings nursing sick orphaned puppies back to health so that they could bring happiness to their owners (children with terminal illnesses of course). By candlelight. But I wasn’t.

Instead, I was pretty much drunk every night this week since last Thursday. And it was good. But first, some back ground information about me and the bottle.

Those who know me, know that I have never been much of a boozer.

Everyone can kata-box at home

Ok that was another outright lie.

Back when I was a teenager, I had no responsibilities, no ID, no car keys and often, no recurring memory of the night before. Life was good. I knocked over huge pot plants that had been imported 50 years before from micro-Indonesia when the bar was first built. I also knocked over said huge pot plant onto the dance floor and it spilt about 56 litres of soil onto the throngs of dancing high-school girls. Said soil also then had to be removed by a manky old wheel barrow. Classic. Boy, am I glad I was able to remember this one!

Other noteworthy performances include getting a hickey the size of Africa on my neck before my Matric Valedictory Mass, sleeping / passing out in a bathtub and eating my Special K cereal with Southern Comfort instead of milk (what? It was plett rage and we were too hung over to walk to the shops). Oh, and there was this time after the Maynardville Carnival, where I had a 2 hour conversation with the car door and then in the Claremont Steers demanded that two strange men who I had never met before pay for my 2 burgers, chips and an ice-cream (which I then sat down and ate with them, because I am polite like that). I then proceeded to hit Conti’s, tell everyone it was my birthday and they had to sit on my lap, before intense paranoia set in and I was convinced that was being stalked by a menacing beaver with a large shotgun (yeeeeeeeees, true story). I then woke up in Obs. And bumped into the two boys from Steers in the UCT library on Monday (not that I remembered them, but they definitely remembered Beaver Girl – my new affectionate name through my entire varsity career).

He even let me take his picture

So yes. But then when I got a car and a job, I had to stop drinking like that. Because I was a grown up now. Except on my birthdays when I made up for it by drinking 24 tequilas and end up walking down Plumstead Main Road at 3am in my sheep pyjamas.

But I don’t drink like that any more (I am way too old – it makes me sleepy). Except this week. Hell, I dunno what happened, but it all certainly happened all at once. Friends leaving for the UK, friends holidaying from the UK, friends breaking up with their boyfriends and friends who left their husbands to become lesbians. Yup, you name it, it happened this week. And somehow, these precious moments in life always need to be celebrated with a good old bottle of white wine.

That being said, it’s now Saturday afternoon and I am off to find half-priced cocktails!

Ya know you love me

X0X0

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