Part 3: Roadtrip

A few things happened last Saturday that took the wind out of my sails. While my friends were dancing and I was with the President he looks into my eyes and says “I want to grow a Rick Ross beard.” You know when things happen in slow motion and your life flashes before your eyes while kitsch, over the top music plays in the background? So do I. So anyway I stared at him for a while and then proceeded to quietly get up from my chair and join my dancing friends, a dancing me makes more sense than putting Rick Ross’s beard on perfection.


The next thing that completely blew me away was right after Matt and the President left we were ready to whip out the PJ’s and get the real party started. So when I wore mine with my heels, I mean I just got dressed and joined my friends but on my way to them I passed a mirror. Pause. I just don’t know how I got so sexy and I didn’t even notice! I was just standing there catcalling myself, very schizo inspired Gemini-esque moment. So anyway I sauntered down the passage, flicking hair and swaying hips I sat down for my supper and thought about the President.

After dinner Sdu aka “Superwoman on Saturdays” cleared up and washed the dishes while Phindi dj’d, Mavu watched soccer and the rest of us were on the balcony shivering and stuff. I went downstairs and the next memorable moment happened; Sdu receives a call from a brave woman who says “ncesi sis please teach yourself not to call people’s boyfriends at this time of the night.” If you’ve never seen a group of angry Zulu women count yourself lucky because what happened next was hilarious and slightly scary. Sdu needs a phone with airtime, she needs to hide the number and now with everyone gathered around her she calls this lady and cusses her out, in about 2 minutes mayhem ensues, everyone starts grabbing the phone to tell this girl to not be insecure, and accept that her man is cheating on her, right after that someone says I’d never want anything to do with a man who installs burglar bars. The contradictions completely didn’t register in their inebriated minds, tsk tsk.

Then it was confession time and that’s all I’m saying about that. After the confessions the drinks were still flowing then PK and Phelekwa were playing in Ronewa’s pool, fast forward Phelekwa got cut in the lip by her glass, which had PK running downstairs screaming/slurring “OH MY WORD PHELZ IS BLEEDING, GUYS IT’S SERIOUS THERE’S BLOOD EVERYWHERE” now I don’t know about you but I almost never believe anything drunk people say so we ignored PK until Phelz came down stairs! Drunken people are so funny; how does drinking some more heal a cut lip? Khayo who is a paramedic was called to advise on the situation. I assume he did, I fell asleep somewhere around this time.

The following morning the friends and I had to say our goodbyes which was hard on the soul because the weekend we’d just shared was God’s way of saying he still loves us. The President in all his glory came by and the trip home began. I might blog about the trip home sometime but I have to go practice smiling with my eyes in the mirror, for when I’m famous you know. I got home at 19:30 that evening, my dad didn’t talk to me for 2 days and I think he called might have called me a whore, or maybe he said “close the door”. I’m tired, you’re awesome.

Stay beautiful.