Big Nights & Chick Fights…
They happen to the best of us. Obviously MORE so to the VERY best of us, as I have been in more than one.
They were never (read: sometimes) my fault and I always (read: always) came out the winner.
Let me tell you a little story about how chick fights go down, where they go down, and how to not go down with them.
So this weekend was the famed Debaucherous Cape Town Birthday Weekend. Basically, it entailed myself and @Lizetheunicorn boarding a plane to Cape Town for a weekend devoted entirely to the best parties of our short little lives. In celebration of my Coming of Old Age (22).
We arrived on the Thursday night at Chevelle (rumoured to be one of the dodgiest joints in all of Cape Town) for the AKing video launch. Here, I met up with the legendary @bangersandnash and @snoddie and we partied our faces off with @rudi_cronje…although I suspect Rudi had already misplaced his face earlier that evening.
So, much good music, much tequila (suspect this is what caused Rudi’s loss of face), much conversing with @stormin_ (which I would later have no recollection of and be mocked about incessantly for the rest of the weekend)
No girl fights. Not even one. Not bad for a famed Dodgy Joint.
Friday was the Big Day. The day all of the world (well, Cape Town at the very LEAST) stood united to celebrate My Birth, and subsequent globe changing life.
The celebrations started off having my hair done at Scar on Kloof upon recommendation of @bangersandnash (he didn’t recommend I have my hair done. Only that I have it done at Scar. I think he likes my hair.)
Nash had mentioned in one of his many publicity tweets that they were Best…and what would I want other than Best? What he had failed to mention, was that they were ex-pen-sive! And that I would be spending at LEAST half my rent and around 32.6% of my petrol budget.
Granted, neither of us knew that when I said “I’d like a wash and blow dry” the hairdresser (pretty, stylish and intimidatingly friendly) would hear “Please bankrupt me on my birthday. Also, if you could insult me, that would be great too.” Never mind, she was lovely. So when she said “Would you like me to fix your colour?” I couldn’t exactly say “Uh, you know what…no thanks. I’m actually fine with it looking obviously problematic.”
Now I know what you’re thinking here. You’re thinking… “Here comes the chick fight!!”
But no, you are mistaken friends. It was my birthday, which by default means a flawless mood. And not even the Acid Rain of Joburg could have dampened my parade. I took it all in my stride (and out of my wallet) and walked out admittedly looking like a bloody lovely Birthday Mermaid.
So no chick fight there either. I know…I know… I’m classy that way.
Friday night. The BIG NIGHT! Things started off at Neighbourhood where I re-introduced myself to @stormin_ and opened up an entire can of “You seriously introducing yourself to me?” worms. Sorry @stormin_. I still think you’re rad.
Anyway, after a lack of girl fighting there, we moved on to Mercury. To be honest, there really was very little time to actually find, instigate and ultimately execute any girl fight here. I arrived, was fed about 345,8 tequilas by various party pushers, was given one free bottle of bubbly, and was out of there just after 12.
By now you’re probably feeling the way I feel when I’m watching a cricket match from the stands: “All of this is alright-ish, but where is the fighting?!”
Be patient friends…for Saturday night meant one thing… Stellenbosch. And Stellenbosch to me means one thing: Bohemia.
If you have never been to Bohemia you are a)Missing out b)Not into my vibe c)Wise. If you have never been to the ladies room at Bohemia you are a)Male b)Wise beyond my years.
Standing in line for the ladies…well I say “Ladies”-consider it a broad term…is part of the adventure that is Stellies. But I have to admit, it is a part I wouldn’t mind skipping. See, this is why I don’t dig nature…and when it calls.
Anyway, after spending what felt like half the night in line, I finally got my very own cubicle. I walked in to find that (naturally) the stall was void of toilet paper. Dilemma. But thanks to my keen eye for anything of value and my outstanding survival skills…I spotted a bit of the white gold strategically behind the door. Luck of the Irish!
No sooner were my tights around my ankles than some deranged psycho-woman started banging on my door! “What the *banana* are you doing in there??!!” She screamed like the well brought up young Afrikaner lady she was. “I’m peeing!! (???) Now *banana* off!!” I shouted back. (When in Rome…)
This precious sweetheart did NOT get the hint and proceeded to literally bang the door down. I kid you not. She banged and banged until the little door hinge (which, incidentally is the only word that rhymes with orange…but only in America) actually broke.
There I was, pants around the ankles, completely exposed to the elements, with Miss Angrypants staring at me from the doorway!!! “What the *banana* are you doing in here?” *Little girl, what the *banana* does it LOOK like I’m doing??? I’m ON a toilet. With NO pants on?!?!?!?!* “I’m doing 25 lines of coke, now *BANANA* off!!”
By this time I have had enough, and it became apparent that Miss Angrypants was NOT going to leave me to pee in peace. Also, I started to have a very real fear that she might actually lift up her dress, and sit down on my lap.
Forgetting my own inhibitions, I got up, no pants on and slammed the door right in Angrypants’s FACE! HA! Take that woman!
All I wanted to do was to finish peeing! But Angrypants wouldn’t give up! She started pushing the door open again! I managed to slam it shut, break a nail (I have pretty nails because I am a lady…quite obviously) sit back down and try to just.finish.my.pee!
But a door with no lock, can prove to be a problem. (Is this an old Chinese proverb? If not, it should be. Them’s wise words right there.)
So leaning as far back as I possibly could, with my hands on both walls, steadying me… I kept one foot against the bulging door, while still balancing on the loo and I finally managed to answer natures call.
“Hi, Nature? Yes, I’m sorry, but you have called at a very inconvenient time. Please call again later.”
When I left the stall, Angrypants shoved her way past and I think she might have thought I was serious about the 25 lines. Cause she looked pretty excited to see if she could find any left overs.
I’ll tell you what she did NOT find:
Cause that little pearl was tucked safely into my handbag.
Revenge is sweet Angrypants.