A game of bowls on the Moon, anyone?

So much to tell, but y’all have the attention span of gnats, so I’ll be brief: Friday night – drinks at the Westcliff hotel, an apt location to wish my best friend adieu as he departed for the colder climes of the northern hemisphere. Saturday, a wonderful historic walk through the suburb – and homes – of Westcliff. We walked through the garden of the former home of the famously wealthy Rupert family, and got to see the house of some odd architect husband-and-wife team that design game lodges around the world. Quirky, impractical, yet distinctive. I was pretty envious of the place, until we entered the main bedroom. Perched on a 2m high pyramid-type thing, was the conjugal bed, and nestled within the pyramid (at ground floor) was… the bed of their oldest child, with the youngest child’s cot “adjacent” (again, at the foot of the towering bed monolith) the parents’ bed. So, I asked the question that was on everyone’s minds – including yours – what about the sex?! Are these people so kinky they couldn’t stand the tedium of mere mortal bed-ridden sex and so do it everywhere except the bedroom, or so frigid they just don’t do it? Or so sick they go at it hammer and tongs while the little kiddies block their ears and shut their eyes against the horrors of Mom being slashed by Daddy’s 19cm knife? Food for thought…

But anyway, I digress. On Saturday night, embellished as a blue martini (for a “dress as your favourite cocktail” theme), I partied the night – and morning - away at Taboo, that pretentious, yet strangely enjoyable overpriced venue in Rivonia. I spent the whole night conversing with a fascinating white Russian, and watched as my friend Jamesons surreptitiously tried to pull the moves on the birthday girl (I forget her outfit)… Soon, I will write about the boobs (not hers, but everyone’s). Boobs, boobies, titties everywhere, so undisguisedly on show for all men to ogle at, and for all women not to help but stare too. I made off with a glow-in-the-dark cube Veuve Cliquot light, a bottle of Absolut and the Nigerian bouncer’s tacky Halloween coat, so I probably recovered my outrageous entrance fee. Score!

On Sunday, I played in an Italian bowls tournament, with reputedly the 6th best team in the world, and I actually wasn’t half bad. Now, please stop smirking, and rejoice in my newfound passion – throwing balls down an alley, trying to get as close to (but never touching!) a smaller ball (the kitty, in a connoisseur’s parlance), all the while impressing old Italian men with my keen eye and aim! It’s a pity they don’t endorse the trademark all-white outfit of English bowls, I do so enjoy a well-outfitted sport.

And in the midst of the weekend madness, I put in 12 hours of work! I tell you, if I don’t get a fat raise come performance review time, I’ll be fuming… and poorer than if I did get the raise.

So, that’s all for today – hold thumbs for me, I’m praying I won the eBucks prize to fly to space. Winners to be announced soon, I’ve certainly made all the effort I can to win by harassing every FNB/eBucks employee I came across, and put in a few internet banking transactions to qualify the technical way too.