Verbal Diarrhoea

The bathroom consisted of many stalls and I walked down quite a number of them to find a roll of toilet paper. I then headed back to the first toilet stall (since it seemed to be the cleanest) with the prized roll in hand. While doing my thing I heard two women enter the restroom and complain about how there was an evident lack of reconstituted natural resources required for drying asses. Being the saint that I am immediately decided that when I was done I would hand them the rest of the toilet paper.

So I do what I have to do, pick up the toilet roll and head on over to the damsels in distress. And as I walking down the stalls I realise that one of the damsels who was complaining about the lack of reconstituted natural resources had already entered the stall. Not only had she decided to get down to business without the essential drying implements but she’d apparently decided not to close the bathroom stall door.

So there I am standing right in front of damsel in distress number 1, toilet roll in hand and my mouth hanging on the floor. Now this is probably the point where most individuals would head on straight out of there but not me. Oh no, for some reason I actually feel compelled to hand over the toilet roll. What the fuck? I don’t know what’s wrong with me but it was as if my brain had suddenly just shut down. I was incapable of fleeing the scene of the crime. I just stood there. It was as if I was having an outer body experience. My brain was this mass of confusion yet my body seemed to react as if nothing was out of the ordinary. It was bizarre to say the least.

On the night of her farewell her friends gathered at the magnificent restaurant, Jimmy Killer Prawns, to eat and make merry. During the course of the meal, her fair maiden, Sarika decided to powder her nose and on her return informed the princess of the peculiar lavatory. It seems that it offered patrons the unique service of relieving their constipation. At the push of a button wash would flow through an individual’s blowhole, softening their stool. Thereafter the individual would have absolutely no trouble taking a shit. Naturally this information caused much amusement.

After finishing up the glorious meal, dancing had to be had. So off to the ball the princess went; her sister and two other fair maidens (Zin & Cazz) in tow. Due to the princess stunning countenance many men tried to woo her. Unfortunately the princess was not impressed by them continually grabbing her arm on the dance floor. It’s as if they failed to notice that she was a delicate fucking flower.

And as the clock struck 3 the music came to a halt and the women, feet aching, hobbled off to find the carriage they had arrived in. They women had had such an amazing time dancing to the timeless classics of Ready D that they failed to notice that they had driven right pass the machine one inserts your parking tickets to confirm payment. The giggling immediately stopped the minute they stopped in front of the boom, which refused them entry into the free world. They blinked and looked at each other in confusion.

Zin: “What happened to the ticket machine?”

Silence. Confusion. Much blinking of eyes. An entire minute passed before someone realised that we had driven right pass it. Cars were now forming a long row behind their carriage. The ladies were in a pickle and there was no knight in shining armour in sight. They reversed their carriage and sat around for a bit, some of them too drunk to figure out an appropriate solution. As they were sitting around in the carriage they realised that none of the other drivers were prepared to insert their parking ticket in the machine. They were afraid that the minute they did so we would ride through, stealing their ticket. So they sat around until Cazz exclaimed, “Ah! I’ll just run up to the ticket booth and insert the ticket. I’ll run back quickly and then we’ll drive off.”

It was a simple and effective plan, foolproof really; except the ladies didn’t take into account one thing. You see there are two parking booms each with its own ticket machine. And Cazz, well she just so happened to put her ticket in the wrong one. Can you say fuck? The princess certainly did. This meant that Zin had to reposition her carriage in such a way as to make it possible to exit from the other exit and that Cazz has to return to the car all before the boom closed. Tom Cruise stealing secret documents in Mission Impossible was easy. This was a task that couldn’t be pulled off. Just before reaching the boom, it went down, blocking their exit. Double fuck. There our ladies were back where they started ten minutes ago, this time without a ticket. Silence. Confusion. Much blinking of eyes. Were our ladies doomed to spend the rest of eternity in a dark gloomy parking garage?

Finally Cazz offered up another solution. She’d press the help button on the ticket machine and explain the situation. Off she ran. The others were left sitting in the carriage, laughing at their predicament. They watched Cazz as she spoke to the machine and noticed how everyone watching the situation unfold was laughing at them. They must have seemed like the biggest morons. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity the boom went up. Cazz ran as fast as the wind. Zin put her car in gear. And if you didn’t think this was enough, more collective dipshittery followed. Someone has implanted the idea to the others that there was a good chance the boom might go down on the car as they drove through. And so as our ladies drove beneath the boom a collective scream of terror could be heard from the car.

Imagine the scene my friends. There you have four women sitting in car looking up at a boom and they’re just screaming. And it’s this really, really girly screams at the top of their lungs. It really, really was the most ridiculous thing in the world.

Hottie McNaughty is this guy I keep running into at all these really big parties. I had first laid eyes at him on the night before I left for Italy. My friends and I were at the Cape Town International Convention Centre’s tenth year anniversary. I had mistaken him for my sister’s ex-boyfriend and had given him this big ole how you doing grin.

Me: “Hey, look it’s your ex-boyfriend.”
Sister: “What, the guy with the blue eyes? Erm, no. That guy’s hot!”

Anyway, there’s not much else to report on the Hottie McNaughty situation – other than the fact that he’s really, really tall. The guy actually has to stoop down to whisper sweet nothings into my ears. And I’m 1.71m mofos.

Okay let’s see what do I have for you guys today? How about the shopping mall incident?

I’m one of those people who don’t like to be cooped up. I will go anywhere with anyone just to avoid sitting at home. So a few months ago (almost a year I think) when I my parents informed me that they were going to the shopping mall to buy some groceries I jumped at the opportunity to join then.

Upon reaching Pick ‘n Pay (think Walmart, my American fans) we immediately split up. I was on a mission of deadly importance. I needed to track down my specific shower gel, the one that makes me smell like happiness. After accruing all my toiletries I did what anyone who has been giving a lift to a shopping mall would do, I searched for my lifts. Up and down the aisles I search for momma and poppa but they are nowhere to be found. I try calling them. They have yet again left those useful little devices us kids call mobiles, at home. No problem right? I have money. I’ll just pay for my purchases and then head over to the car. So I find myself a checkout line and wait my turn. It’s only as I wait that I realise that I have no idea where we parked. As usual I have not paid attention to my surroundings. I just walked and hoped that someone else would take responsibility for the minor details.

Panic starts to well up; the type of panic that has you hyperventilating. There are a million ideas rushing through my mind but none of them seems an appropriate solution to my problem. It’s just then that I hear a voice over the intercom, calling out my name. Apparently my parents are waiting for me at the front desk.

Yip, just another typical moment of dipshittery by yours truly.

Anyway, hopefully by the end of this week I’ll get round to telling you about the collectively dipshittery that took place in the CTICC parking lot.

Amanda: “It has always been my dream to have three kids. And I want them all to have the same father.”
Silence
Me: “Erm, you do know that most people generally have kids from same man, right?”
Amanda: “Really?”

If you thought that was funny, you would have loved to hear her explain how she woke up one morning with chicken pox. Of course this was the first time that Amanda had ever seen these strange dots on her face and not having a medical degree her first conclusion was that she had somehow contacted AIDS.