Flick that switch

Don't forget to switch off this evening for Earth Hour! I'll be doing my bit by dancing the funky chicken by candlelight at my friend's wedding later, while my cat sits at home in the dark.

Cue the Bridget Jones dinner table scene...

My friend Diane is getting married tomorrow. She's madly, deeply in love with a boy who loves her just as much and so now they're getting ready to kick-start the next chapter in their lives. All very romantic.

I'm looking forward to the wedding. I reckon it'll be quite the party though I'm a little disappointed that I'll be flying solo. Again. I thought about finding a suitable wedding date but it's slim pickings these days and I don't really want to spend the evening making sure a relative stranger is comfortable in an environment that screams 'relationships' and 'commitment'. So I'm going alone even though I promised myself at the last wedding I went to that I'm not going to any more weddings by myself.

To be fair, it's not that bad. With any luck, I'll sit with friends at the reception, unless I am cruelly sent to the singles' table. Gulp. The only icky part really is the dancing, because that's pretty much my favourite bit (next to the complimentary wine of course) but it's not as much fun if you're dancing on your own. So now I've decided that this is definitely the very last wedding I'll go to without a partner. And this time I mean it. If I'm not with man the next time someone I know gets married, then I'm afraid I'll be washing the dog on their special day. No offence. That said, most of my friends are already married, so unless they pick up the pace and move onto second marriages, I should be off the hook for a while.

Anyway, I'm sure it'll be a beautiful wedding. I've booked a hair appointment for tomorrow morning, bought a gift off their Woolies list and found a pretty little silver gray dress (that was on sale). Now I just need to decide between my delicate silver sandals (that will no doubt leave me crippled) or my sexy black boots that may be a little too much for this time of year (but are infinitely more user-friendly, in spite of their considerable heels). Nothing like a shoe dilemma to distract a girl from her single-wedding-guest status.

Yeah right.

The Lesser Known Eleventh Commandment

The first ten sound familiar enough to me... Thou shalt not lie, steal, murder, be a nasty cow, blah, blah. But CLEARLY I was off sick the day they taught the eleventh commandment: Thou shalt NOT Cheat on thy Dentist. Had I known that this was a mortal sin I would definitely have made a better effort to stay out of the chair of a dentist that was not mine, thereby avoiding the ginormous bitch slap karma sent my way.

 

What. Did. You. Do?!?!?!?

It all started last week when it occurred to me that something was awry in my mouth. It felt like I had lost a filling or something and, after a rather nasty root canal a while ago, I was quite wary. So I decided to bite the bullet, so to speak, and rush off to the dentist. Unfortunately, my dentist and I aren't in an exclusive relationship and so he could only fit me some time next week. The receptionist suggested, however, that I make an appointment with the new associate in the practice. She assured me he was lovely so I made an appointment to see him last Thursday. 

It began innocently enough. Though I should've known there'd be trouble when I realised he was incredibly good looking but too young to have gone through puberty. Within seconds, he had me on my back with my mouth wide open. He flashed me a reassuring smile (through his mask, mind you, but I'm sure it was flashy) as he told me I'd need a little filling to repair one that had chipped. Not a big deal, he told me. This won't hurt a bit, he said. 

Flash forward to about half an hour later... mouth numb, defeated owner of another filling, I stumbled out of his big blue chair, drooling out the left side of my mouth while promising to return soon. Later in the day, as feeling slowly came back to my face, I was overwhelmed with the relief of having endured another visit to the dentist. 

I thought I had gotten away with cheating on my regular tooth guy. I thought there would be no consequences. I was wrong. 

Two days later, on Saturday morning to be exact, I was tucking into a tasty breakfast of tea and toast when suddenly I felt something pretty hard in my mouth. Erring on the side of caution I decided to spit rather than swallow which is when I discovered a pretty damn big piece of tooth. Horrified, I did a quick tongue check of my mouth and then nearly passed out when my tongue got to where my new filling was. Sharp and jaggy. I rushed to a mirror to survey the damage, and let me tell you - it was horrible. Where there once was a tooth stood nothing but a gun metal gray filling. I looked like a goddamn hillbilly!!!!! It seemed Dr Hottie had been a little over-eager with the drilling, and now my tooth had broken in two. Ironically, the filling hadn't budged. 

 

Dida ding ding ding ding ding ding ding

Frantic phone calls to the dentist proved futile - it was the weekend after all. So I had to spend the weekend looking like the henchman from a James Bond flick. The good news is I lost a little weight, as I pretty much resorted to a liquid diet in lieu of having to chew anything. 

So this morning I went crawling back to my usual dentist. I told him how I had been unfaithful by seeing his partner and that as a result I now looked like I belonged in the hills with a banjo. Thankfully, my dentist and I have been together for years and so he knows that my teeth and I are prone to a little drama. He just laughed and told me it wasn't that bad (he's a good liar) and then he set about sorting out my problem.

I don't know how he did it, but I no longer look like a hillbilly. He fixed me up in short of 20 minutes, sans injection! There was a little bit of drilling and that sucking thingie and then - VOILA - my broken toof was back. Except it wasn't all real. But it looks like the real deal, so yay! 

On the way out, I cancelled my follow-up appointments with Dr Hottie 'cos god knows I don't want to break any more teeth. I've learnt my lesson and will Never. Ever. Do. That. Again. Take it from me, kids, cheating on your dentist is a no-no and can only end in tears. Stick with what you know, no matter how hot the new dentist is, it's just not worth it. 

Amen.

Yes. Number eleven - it's right over here.

I'm on a horse

There are so many good ads doing the rounds but my absolute favourite right now has to be the latest Old Spice ad. (If you haven't seen it yet, stop reading this and check it out on YouTube. Right. Now.)

I can't stop watching this - it's hilarious! What makes it even cooler is that it was filmed in one continuous shot. That's no mean feat. PLUS there's hardly any CGI. If you're curious  about how 'the man your man could smell like' moves from his bathroom to a boat to sitting on a horse, check THIS out. Really. Very clever. 

I love everything about this ad - from the delicious eye candy in the form of Isaiah Mustafa to the witty and sharp script. "...it's an oyster with two tickets to that thing you love..." Cracks. Me. Up.

Nice.

Mao's Last Dancer

A couple of weeks ago, I got lucky. Sadly not in the Gerard-Butler-dressed-as-a-fireman kind of way, but still, lucky. I won tickets to a breakfast at the Cape Town Convention Centre hosted by world-famous ballet dancer and author Li Cunxin. (Pronounced "Lee Schwin Sing")

Now to be fair, up until quite recently, his name didn't really ring a bell. But he's the Chinese dancer who defected to the States in the early eighties, after a pretty precarious stand-off at the Chinese embassy. Since then he has toured the world as a principal dancer, and has subsequently retired from ballet and gone on to write his autobiography: Mao's Last Dancer, published in 2003. This critically acclaimed book has recently been adapted into a feature film, directed by Bruce Beresford.

When I received the news that I had won tickets, it seemed only fitting that I read the book. And I'm so glad I did - what a story! From the most unimaginable poverty, 11 year old Li was randomly chosen to audition for the Beijing Dance Academy where he struggled his way to becoming a world-class dancer. It's a story of determination, perseverance and great personal sacrifice - beautifully told with humbleness and modesty.

So after speed-reading the book over the weekend, the Monday morning breakfast talk was really special. Cunxin is in his late forties now and lives in Australia with his wife and children. He's an eloquent speaker who keeps his audience captivated with personal anecdotes that share a little of what it was like to grow up in a world so far away from the one I know. 

 

Mao's Last Dancer is certainly worth the read, though there's nothing wrong with just watching the movie. That said, I thought the book was much better than the movie - it offered a better sense of where Cunxin is from, and the truly great sacrifices he made to be where he is today.

  

  Ms Featherstone took this photie. Thanks!

Another tough day in Africa

On Wednesday evening I got to go sailing - a first for me. Seriously! Could there be a more beautiful setting?!?! Table Mountain in the background and a crisp sea breeze to cool what had been an extremely hot Cape Town day...

 (Note the new stadium in the background there)

Word Nerd Musings

After having much success at Exclusive Books' Summer Sale, I couldn't resist going back a couple more times to see if I could score any more bargains. Here's what I ended up with...

Margot Fonteyn, A Life (Meredith Daneman)

When I was a kid, all I wanted was to be a ballerina. Ten years of ballet classes and a pair of stubborn flat feet later, I abandoned the dream but ballet will always be close to my heart. I've always loved Margot Fonteyn (and Rudolf Nureyev) which is why I was really pleased to find this biography on sale.


Lighthousekeeping (Jeanette Winterson)

A few years ago I read Written on the Body, a novel from the same author. I really enjoyed it, so I'm hoping Lighthousekeeping will be good too.


Two Caravans (Marina Lewycka)

I have to confess, I totally judged this book by it's cover. It looks quaint and quirky. I'll let you know how that turns out.



Beautiful People (Simon Doonan)

This looks like a fun read. Simon Doonan is the Creative Director at Barnabys and the review on Amazon.com has this to say about Beautiful People:

"Simon Doonan's life is a tawdry and hilarious romp.' Rupert Everett... 'Beautiful People is wickedly funny. Simon Doonan has an ear and an eye for sublimely bizarre details that will make readers laugh out loud.' Candace Bushnell, author of Sex and The City. 'Simon is a male Lucille Ball.' Donna Karen..."

Okay, I'll bite.

Who says you can't have your cake and eat it too?

In the spirit of Valentine's Day, I feel compelled to share this little gem with you. I found it in the latest copy of FairLady. 

Fay Millar is a London-based baker who offers her clients a decadent range of cakes that celebrate many of life's big occasions including weddings and, well, break-ups. Yeah, that's right. Divorce cakes. Now call me cynical but I think it's a great idea. Why end a relationship whimpering in a dark corner with a box of tissues, Celine Dion whining in the background and a month's supply of chocolates when you can end it in style with a gorgeous cake?!?! Here, take a look at these:

  So long, dumbass

Hit the road, Jack! (Erm, Jill)

You've lost that loving feeling...

See, just when things hit an all time low, you can have your cake AND eat it. (And if you wanted to eat it all by yourself, that would be okay too. You're grieving. Or something.) I think these cakes are GORGEOUS!!! Especially the middle one. (Though the bride in the last pic looks like a crazy psycho bitch - not very flattering.) Anyway, if ever any of my girlfriends get dumped or divorced, I'll scour the streets of Cape Town until I find something similar. And hopefully they'll do the same for me. Any excuse for cake. Yum!

It kinda reminds me of that time in Sex and the City* when Carrie goes to a baby shower and ends up having her gorgeous Manolos swiped. When the hostess brushes off the incident and refuses reimburse Carrie, she decides to throw herself a fabulous single and baby-less type party which has a guest list  of one and a gift registry at Manolo Blahnik. That's how she gets her shoes replaced.

You're probably thinking that's pretty petty. But then again, any woman in her thirties would agree that there's a limit to how many bridal showers and baby showers a girl can endure. Let's face it, the only person who really enjoys those is the bride- or mum-to-be. For the rest of us, it's really an obligatory appearance and another present to fork out for. I mean c'mon, it's great that you found 'true' love and are getting married but do you really need a pre-party party and gifts for that? Isn't lifelong companionship and a big rock enough reward? Seriously! All I'm saying is the next bridal shower I go to had better be my own, damnit!

Anyway, hope you have a lovely V-day regardless of your relationship status. Now go eat some chocolate!

*Season 6, episode 9 to be exact. Speaking of which, almost time for the sequel to the first movie! Yay, I can't wait!!! Happeeeeeeeeee...

Crazy Cat Lady Chronicles

'Was going through some old photies when I came across this one. 

It's a pic of Phoebe taken the day after I brought her home from the SPCA. She was eight weeks old then and full of energy. (And full of powerful little farts too - we blamed the SPCA nosh. Luckily she grew out of that and into those rather large ears:)

Who knew this cute little thing would grow up to ruin that settee she's on  - not to mention kill hundreds of geckos, about 30 chameleons and two goldfish. 

No glove, no love big guy!

Oopsie daisy. Seems our JZ has been a naughty boy. Again. Our esteemed leader has recently become the proud father of bambino number 19 20. Not bad going for a 67 year old. God Bless Viagra. 

 Ahem.

This Hugh Hefner wannabe recently made international headlines when he married his fifth wife. One of them is dead and the other is an ex-missus but the remaining three have the privilege of sharing of the massive hunk of man love that is the president. 

  Gotta love the funky chicken

But now it seems there's even more competition on the scene as JZ's baby mama isn't one of them. Nope, the lucky lady is the daughter of one of Zuma's friends. 

Classy. 

Anyway, his latest antics have left controversial cartoonist Zapiro with no choice but to firmly re-attach that infamous shower head to the Big Guy's forehead. It's a shame really. He was doing quite nicely and while his bedroom antics shouldn't really have any affect on the rest of us, he's not helping the fight against the HIV/Aids pandemic which is ravaging the country. "Please practice safe sex. Unless you're the president." Eish.

 Aikona