Category Archives: don’t trust guys

Always an adventure with these two

Today, Cougar, Fahiema and I, woke up at 05:30 to run a 15km race in Eersterivier. While I was busy concentrating on attaining a new PB, they were making new friends.

After the race, I found these two swapping pleasantries with an OLDER gentleman. Besides the fact that said gentleman had spittle in the corner of his lips, he seemed genial enough. This was of course BEFORE he asked me to touch his man boobs. I politely declined.

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I’m actually thinking of hitting a hot yoga class before heading off to the Vodacom Funny Festival.

Adult World – Part 1

At the insistence of Bullmutt, I bring you the story of how I went on a blind date with a guy who has a 14 year old kid AND a girlfriend. Oh and did I mention that he works for Adult World too. Yeah, but unfortunately he can’t offer me any discounts on vibrators. Not that I asked. But he’s the type to offer. Or not offer in this case.

Because I’m a crazy ass party animal, on Friday night I could be found sitting on my bed playing Sudoku. Yep, I’m fast on my way to becoming the next Charlie Sheen.

And as I sat there, scribbling away and being the envy of every sane adult and tween on the planet, I got a phone call.

Fahiema: I met a dude who has an extra ticket to the Kday concert in Paarl, a 45 minute drive from your home. Do you want to go?

And before I even had a chance to ask, “Are you on crack”, she’d handed the phone over to previously mentioned dude.

Dude: Will pick you up at 10:00.

Let’s fast forward to Saturday at 10:30.

Fahiema: Are you at K-day?

Me: Nope.

Fahiema: Why not?

Me: He didn’t call …

Fahiema: Oh well he was going with his a bunch of friends and his girlfriend.

Me: Oh so it isn’t a blind date. Phew. I was worried there for a second.

And that my friends, was the very beginning of the most perplexing afternoon I have ever experienced. And THAT’S saying a lot. Let’s forward to an hour later, shall we?

Dude: Sorry for being late but I’m glad I pitched up. You’re pretty.

Me, slightly confused: Erm, thanks.

Dude: Anyway, I bought you a Sweetie Pie to say sorry for being late.

Me: Erm, thanks but you didn’t have to.

At this point I’m thinking that maybe I’d heard Fahiema incorrectly, that maybe this WAS a blind date. That maybe I was accepting a lift with a complete stranger to Paarl, 45 minutes from my home and if he tried anything I’d be in serious shit. Maybe he didn’t actually HAVE a girlfriend. Fifteen minutes into the drive and with no possible escape, he’d convinced me that he DID indeed have a girlfriend. (Trust me it didn’t take a lot of convincing from his part.)  

Dude: Yeah, so there’s something I want to tell you. I didn’t want to tell your friends because this is something I need to tell you personally. I have a girlfriend.

And would you like to know how I responded? I blinked and said, “okay.” Like it is no big deal. Like I’m accustomed to slimeballs chatting me up, while their girlfriends sit patiently at home. In hindsight this was probably a bad idea. I probably should have asked, “And how does your girlfriend feel about you cheating on her?” But at this point I’m still pretty confused to what exactly the situation is. And because I’m no Columbo, the universe gives me yet another clue.

Dude: Blah, blah, blah, asked my daughter if she wanted to come along as well.

Me: How old is your daughter?

Dude: Why? Are the warning bells sounding? Are you thinking guy with emotional baggage, stay away?

Outward reaction – smile politely and say, “Noooo. Not me!” Internal reaction, “Dude, are you high? I ain’t ever planning on seeing you again.”

And if this isn’t enough, I actually met his female friends who had the following choice words to say about him.

Girl 1: Sid, tell me, how does someone come to a concert with a guy they’ve never met before?

Me: I know. I’m asking myself the exact thing.

And before I even have the answer to explain the unfolding of events, Girl 1, “Coz Anton (his real name) is a …”

Girl 2: Molester.

Girl 1: Yeah, we didn’t want to say anything in front of him, because he’s our friend. But he is a pervert.

TO BE CONTINUED. (Yes, there’s more.)

Vanilla Ice concert

On Friday I attended the Vanilla Ice concert …

During intermission, Cazz and I sat outside on this tiny wall. While sitting there some guy walks by and pointing to me, says to his friend, “Here!” He then proceeds to asks me if he can take a photo with me.

Internal me: With? Did he just say “with”? Doesn’t he mean “of”?

External me: “Sorry. What?”

Without taking his eyes from his camera, he replies nonchalantly, “Can I take a photo with you?”

External me: Erm no, that’s just weird.

I mean seriously, what type of reaction was he expecting? Was expecting me to feel honoured that some random guy thinks I’m pretty enough to go to the trouble of capturing my image, for all of eternity? Was he expecting me to lean over and whisper to my friend, “He must think I’m a model or actor, coz he wants to take me photo.” Because right then, all I’m thinking is, “For what?” What are you planning to do with the photo? Are you planning on putting it on Facebook and telling all your friends that THIS is the girl you banged while in Cape Town? Or worse yet, are you planning to tell your folks that this is your girlfriend?*”

*Actually I can think up a number of “photo usage” scenarios that are way more disturbing than that.

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This is what happens when I tell Paris to get out of the way of my car.

Caster Semenya & writer’s block

Ever since the Caster Semenya debacle I have been weary of using the oh-so-witty comeback, “Suck my big black cock.” Once said, the oh-so-witty comeback should invariably be accompanied by the disclaimer, “I don’t actually have a cock. No need for gender testing here.”   

Anyway, over the last few days I’ve suffered from the dreaded “writer’s block”. I’ve spent hours staring at black pages, willing pretty phrases to spring from the ink in my pen but all I can manage are disjointed words.

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Yet another photograph of my trip abroad. Think this was taken in Pisa. (Yes, there’s more to see than just a Leaning Tower.)

Where in the world Wednesday

I don’t feel like entertaining the masses today so I thought I’d participate in Where in the World Wednesday. What’s that? It’s not Wednesday? Yeah, well I’m uploading pictures of Venice either way, so suck it up Sherlock.

To participate in WITWW all you need to do is upload some pics, upload the WITWW button and post a comment on Classy in Philadelphia stating that you’ve decided to participate.   

I loved the look and feel of the old buildings.

I was completely amazed at the size of the seafood in Venice. Click on photo to enlarge.

Sitting on the banks of the river (?) I watched the sun set. Personally I think Venice has Paris beat when it comes to being the most romantic city.

I actually met the funniest Canadian chicks while sitting on the river banks. We just sat there talking and laughing for hours. The one taught be about Indian history and the war for independence and the other talked about her Irish grandmother. It was one of my all time favourite moments in Italy.   

Play ground – so different to the ones I see in Cape Town everyday.

I can give you Herpes: Part 2

This just in: Red has some strange fetish for Muslim girls. I won’t tell you why he has developed this fetish, because, well frankly his reasoning makes even me blush.

Anyway, back to the story. It wasn’t long after Red told me that he could give me Herpes that he arrived at the club. We weren’t in the club for long before be exited. One of the guys had had an argument with the promoter of the club and we decided that maybe it was best if we chilled at Buddha’s house.

Red: “Are you coming back to Buddha’s house with me?”
Before I even had a chance to reply my former best friend (FBF) was offered up as a replacement and Bourne, ever the gentleman offered to give me a lift. The very minute I got into the car Bourne interrogated me.

Bourne: “So did Red try anything with you?”
Me: “Erm no …”
Bourne: “Really? Hmmm, I’m disappointed. I really thought he would.”
Me: “Okay …”
Bourne: “But you don’t have to worry about me. I’d never try anything.”
Me: “Erm, right …”
The voice in my head however is slightly more conversant than my external voice. Call me naïve but I never assumed that getting a lift with a guy would mean anything more than that.

An hour after arriving at Buddha’s house I was busy dozing off on the couch.

Red: “You know if you want I can give you a lift.”
Bourne: “Or if you want I could give you a lift home.”
Buddha leans in and whispers to me, “You know what they mean is that they could take you to their home right?”

Sid simply smiles and more than relieved when F says that my house is on her way home.

And that my friends, is the end of that little tale. And what is the moral of the story? Always carry pepper spray!