Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dumb

OMG… how hilarious last night turned out to be. What was a lovely chilled evening with Crazii the girls, turned into Clark Kent and I into playing tour guides.

You see the apartment next door to Clark Kent is a holiday rental, and there have been some interesting characters making it their temporary home during this Soccer madness… First there were the strange hippy German’s, who couldn’t figure out how the key worked to open the gate into the complex and would sit on the stairs outside waiting for someone else to come home and grant them access. Then came the hooligan pom’s, who would come home at stupid o’clock in the morning completely wasted and not be able to operate the front door correctly, or quietly, for at least a good 20 minutes, having left a trail of blood behind them, leading back to the front gate, for the other residents to ponder over the following morning.

But last night we actually officially met the latest holidaymakers, Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dumb, the one an American the other a Holland/American. Oh and don’t forget about the guy passed out on the couch from Texas.

Me being the responsible adult I am, I decided that after a few glasses of Bubbles with the girls I wasn’t fit to drive and called Clark Kent to fetch me.

As we arrived home, these two rather drunken figures appear at their door desperately wanting to know where they could get a pizza, (or any type of food really) at 11pm on a Wednesday night. So Clark Kent, being the hero he is, offer’s to play taxi. We all pile into the Blue Beast and off we go. Eventually ending up at Saul’s Saloon in Sea Point, where better to take American’s who are lost in Africa, once inside I managed to make friends with an Aussie who was celebrating their win… come to think of it he actually wasn’t that friendly. Anyways moving along.

After our new (very drunk very loud) American and Holland friends had ordered 2 Saul’s breakfast specials and a burger for the Texan, we waited… to entertain us during our wait, we located a juke box, the American chooses Michael Jackson’s – Bad, the Hollander was tickled pink by the sounds of Queen. After which they began to tell us all about their outfits they will be wearing to support Holland at today game. Much love and hard planning went into these outfits and by the sounds of it they are outrageous.

All round it was a fun and entertaining experience! And we have some new found friends…

~Ladies and Gents I present to you, Holland America!~

 

A Nation United

WOW, GO BAFANA BAFANA… We might not have made the final or even the second round of the world cup, but as a nation South Africa has won.

Yesterday the country was draped in yellow and green, the sound of vuvuzela’s could be heard for miles. The spirit was electric and the men on the pitch made the nation proud! As we held our breath together and screamed cheers of joy when we scored, all South African’s moved as one body.

I have no doubt that throughout the rest of the world cup South African’s well keep wearing their Bafana Bafana shirts and South African supporters memorabilia. We are still the host country and proud of it. This event has brought the whole nation together and there is finally a light shinning its positive energy over us, for the rest of the world to see.

~I am Proudly South African!~

A Sporting Weekend

What a weekend! Firstly I would like to say welcome home Crazii, we missed you!!! Good to have you back darling!!

So it was all a go here on Friday, with the start of the World Cup Soccer, the air was filled with excitement and the sound of Vuvuzelas (well it has been since Wednesday), but there is a new feeling of a nation united.

The weekend kicked of with a World Cup party at work to see who had the most gees (spirit), I made the top five dressed head to toe in yellow and green, my super hero cape a South Africa flag, my weapons of choice a Supa Striker soccer ball and my very own Vuvuzela (which I have learnt how to blow I might add) coloured in the flag. On my head was my World Cup rugby 7’s hat draped in our home flag, but alas it was the Makaraba that took the prize home for the winner.

The opening ceremony was a colourful and spectacular event, what else would you expect from the rainbow nation, followed by a decent result from Bafana Bafana, drawing one all with the Tequilla drinking Mexicans.

Saturday brought with it the rugby; South Africa vs France, where we more than doubled their score, 42-17… don’t mess with the men in green and gold!!!  This gave us just one more reason to celebrate that night.

You see it was Mr Polski’s Birthday, and in his honour we embraced the moustache, raised our glasses and let the madness begin. Madness being the key ingredient, throw in a wicked punch, Captain Stroh, Clark Kent (AKA the Barmen) and I plus some other party animals, an excuse to party… and you have a recipe for a good time. We even had Mr Polski down on one knee taking funnels through his Vuvuzela, now that’s Gees. Such crazy antics lead to dialing Pop Tart in America at 02h30 (my time), form the O’s bathroom, which was brought on by the sounds of “sweet home Alabama”, the one time I was happy there is a time difference ☺!

After the fun was had, Sunday crept around bringing with it sore heads and a hangover of mammoth proportions!!  Leaving me swearing never again! I couldn’t even summon the strength to join the McLaren Supporter for the F1 race and decided to take it in from the safety of my own couch. Where Clark Kent saved the day when he arrived, with food and cream soda to ease the pain.

We now have to face the reality of the working week ahead, and just incase Monday wasn’t bad enough on its own, its pouring with Rain and about 10 degrees…

~Happy Monday Peeps ~
 

The World Cup Question?

 So there is no more denying it… This Friday will be the opening ceremony for the Soccer World Cup, giving the mayhem a green light.

I for one have been in denial about the whole thing, personally because it is going to interfere and upset my day-to-day routine (selfish…Yes). With road closures and an influx of tourist, the thought of the traffic congestion is gut retching. Any traveling around town on match days is going to be excruciatingly slow and chaotic.

*Quick example from the office to gym, normally a 10minute drive (in traffic), now the roads are all closed on match days, what do they expect us to suddenly evolve into super humans and teleport ourselves to gym? Hello if we could do that we wouldn’t need to go to gym would we, because we would be super human. *

Oh and lets not forget the last, how many months of disruption we have endured due to the construction of the new stadium and the surrounding road system… but hang on, what was it all for as these are the roads being closed on match days and will not be in use… hmmm… lets think about that for a second.

Oh and what about our lovely African Taxis that already feel they are more important than every other car on the road… I can see them now practically mounting the pavements, vuvuzelas blearing out the window, competing with the base from their radio's (and don’t get me started on the noise pollution that is vuvuzelas) to get in front of that corsa-lite.

Not to mention the fact that the cops are going to be so focused on the stadium and its surrounding area, basically giving criminals free range in the ‘burbs… that’s were I live.

So, I’m now faced with reality and left with the burning question… Do I cave in and embrace the craziness and join the masses or do I stand my ground and be grumpy and bitter for the next month??

Did I mention I hate soccer, I love a great deal of sports… but soccer doesn’t crack a nod on that list.

But alas for the sake of my own sanity I might have to embrace the chaos, jump into the middle of the crowd, don a yellow T-shirt branded SOUTH AFRICA and join the Gees. (While I hum quietly in my car, whoooo Saaaah, as I watch my fuel dropping in the traffic)

~Feel it, it is here~

The Life of a Fashion Assistant…

Wow… feeling vaguely human again after one utterly insane week!
Nothing like running on your reserve tank for 3 out of the 5 days in a week, knowing that if you stop for a second it will all come crashing down, so you just push through hoping you going to make it out the other side. Once you do, you take a second to breath then completely crash.

That's what happened to me at least and I think I have had a collective 24hours sleep this past weekend to refuel for what lies ahead.

Last week we shot the fashion feature for the next issue of the Magazine, and boy it is a lot of work, especially when you are part of a team consisting of two people and the other person is 8 months pregnant. Yes, early mornings, busy days and late nights… Sourcing, collecting, styling up, fittings, exchanges, shooting and returns… complete madness. But wow it’s going to be 10 pages of magic I tell you! It makes the sore feet and knees, the lack of sleep, the glamorous job of taping sanitary pads to the bottom of Prada shoes and walking around looking like a Christmas tree, thanks to all the metal clamps attached to your clothes ‘just incase’, all worth it.

And what a hoot it was on the day of said magic… we were based at the new fashion hotel 15 on Orange, which has some really spectacular elements, we worked with four really great male models, each a character I tell you, but nothing beats the blonde with a dirty sock phobia. Here he is decked out in a jet-black Hugo Boss suit looking to kill and his dirty, should have been chucked away a year ago, supposed to be white but are actually brown converse takkies, why you ask? He is so freaked out about having dirty socks he couldn’t walk 20meters (if that) in just socks (brand new socks we provided)… Because he is freaked out about having dirty socks inside his shoes… I guess it was one of those moments of ‘guess you had to be there’ to really appreciate the hilarity of the situation.

Not to mention the chaos that ensued when I left the crew alone for a total of 20 minutes, the clothes where everywhere the system, which I have carefully put together, had gone to shit and the keycard for the room had been lock inside… seriously people 20 minutes.

So for a day that started at 7am and ended at 10pm, we are going to have some wicked results to show for it. I’m so excited to see the images I think it might even top ‘A night at the Taj’ which was our last shoot with South African Haute Couture. Which totally took my breath away!

~For now we wait with baited breath~

New Experiences...

So my philosophy in life is “I’m willing to try most things at least once” that way if I don’t like it I have a valid reason when I say, “Sorry no thanks, I’m trying to quit”. But having said that it can take some crazy persuasion to get me to the door.

Last Saturday was one of these days, I for the first time ever, went to a chiropractor. Now you need to understand that I have been to at least four orthopedic surgeons and all they do is hurt me and they don’t fix the problem. The first didn’t diagnose the full extent of my injuries correctly, the next said all looked fine, the third botched my Knee Op and the Forth told me I was a good candidate for a Knee replacement. So I tend to stay clear of anyone who thinks they going to get near my knee.

But for months Clark Kent has been trying to convince me to see his chiropractor so I finally made a deal, if I went to see his chiro he would go and have correct innersoles made for his running shoes (because he basically runs on his ankles, thanks to his wicked pronating feet)… So Saturday morning rolled around and I found myself at the chiropractors doorstep. FUCK. Not my happy face to say the least, but yes I was going through with it.

Well I made it out alive people! And here I am to tell the tale… I was pleasantly surprised although nervous as all hell.

Doc Rub-a-Dub was great he explained everything to me and promised he wasn’t going to twist and turn me or hurt me. Apparently it is all about neurological alignment and such. Doc Rub-a-Dub practices a technique called NeuroImpulse Protocol (N.I.P) ‘it is through a highly sophisticated integration of precise chiropractic assessment techniques and detailed neurological examination he can locate the right location to adjust. These adjustments can be to your spine, pelvis, limbs or cranium and once made you will feel increased range of movement, muscle strength and a nervous system working free of interference.’

Yeah… Doctor mumbo jumbo right… basically he finds out where you have a problem and traces it back to the neurological source or something like that. Then using pressure points or whatever and fixes you.

I must say I was well impressed, and left feeling completely aligned and with no pain… the catch is going back to maintain such perfect alignment which has been skewed over the past 26years… because you see we are all onions and need to be peeled back one layer at a time.

So if you keen to take the plunge and get your self neurologically aligned (which is great for athletes of all kinds) check out his website and give it a bash.

~PS: Clark Kent best you be making that appointment….~