Friday, August 20, 2010

Confessions of a Clear-Heel kind

It was a regular Thursday night, except, wasn't.

It's one thing to find me home on a Thursday night, firmly wedged in the countless cushions on my couch catching JonasThe News...and quite another to be in a room full of twenty-odd women, getting pole dancing lessons while decked out in all forms of Chinese-imported flouncy accessories. The latter is an outline of how yesterday's evening went.


Disclaimer: I'm talking about pole dancing here, not stripping. Those two things aren't the same, close cousins (twice removed) perhaps, but world's apart. So before some of you get on your high horse, no money was offered for performances (although that would have been nice, i would have liked some spare change), clothes remained on (thank goodness) and LOTS, yes lots, of fun was had by all of sundry (i.e. no animals where harmed during any performances).

Our instructor for the evening was a very young looking blonde chica who was pretty unfazed at having to teach a room full of rather out-going (read: rowdy) ladies pole dancing moves. She came through with the pole, who was eventually named Miguel...and we all got to bond with Miguel.

First up, we were told to choose names. This was met by blinking gazes and then a frenzy of mutterings along the lines of "geez, what kinda name" and "i don't have a name". Funnily, within 5 minutes, everyone had come up with a name...closet alter ego's methinks. Some priceless gems were:

- Pussylicious;
- Golden Sugar;
- Chocolate Thunder;
- The Advocate; and
- (Winner) Never Enough......*dead*

Blondie then took us through some routines, we learnt some tootsie rolls, the flamingo leg lock, a basic swing and some other routine that was nameless but will by "the big finish" going forward. Practice makes perfect, and i am seriously seeing the merits of owning a pole...from a fitness angle of course *coughs*

We learnt all these routines without heels: One really appreciates the finess of those ladies who can execute them in 8 inch clear heels, nogal. It was

We didn't always get it right: Falling, slipping and sliding occured on many occasions, which made for great sources of humour...until it was you on your ass that is. However, we learnt that it's not how you fall, but how you recover that makes all the difference (you'd be surprised how a well placed bum wiggle will fix everything).

We were competitive: For every 3 movements that Blondie taught us in a move, you best recognise, that some of the more out-there ladies threw in an extra 3 movements. I haven't seen as much popping and locking since i last caught a Snoop Dogg music video. Sheer hilarity. I have a sneaking suspicion peeps were downplaying just how much they knew about pole dancing #I'mJustSaying

We got a workout: I made the stupid mistake of wearing high heels to work today. The pain. I'm not walking straight. Parts of me hurt. I'm getting bbm's from other participants about mysterious bruises they're finding on themselves. No wonder strippers look fit...they have to be!

We laughed...HARD: From those who were a tad bit weary, to those who threw themselves into the spirit of things, everybody had themselves a fab time.

Blondie then ended the evening by showing us how it was meant to be done! Gravity was defied many times over and we were more than happy to hand our lesson-money over to her (i lied, some money was indeed exchanged).

Sadly, after having had such a spectacular Thursday night, it's kinda putting undue pressure on tonight's anticsactivities :-)

Holla in the comments your pole dancing experiences or aspirations ;-)

Have a great weekend, chickens!


V x

Sunday, August 15, 2010

It started with a kiss...

You must remember this
A kiss is just a kiss
A sigh is just a sigh
The fundamental things apply
As time goes by”

Casablanca – (As Time Goes By)

Whilst partaking in a boozy lunch on the leafier side of Johannesburg, my friend “X” and I spoke about all things under the sun (both figuratively and literally). As conversations predictably go, especially when they involve women and alcohol, we spoke of relationships, hook-ups and drive-bys.

At some point we got into a debate about whether kissing was considered cheating! I argued yes, she adamantly refused that it was so, nonchalantly declaring that such indiscretions where mostly likely to happen, one way or another.

Now we can ring up some fancy statistics and split hairs all we want...but if you’re engaging in any intimate relations with someone other than your significant other, errrr, you’re cheating. Don’t pull a Bill Clinton “I did not have sexual relations with that woman” defence, we all remember how that one turned out.

As far as I’m concerned, kissing is a gateway drug to other such preambling antics*...after all, we aren’t 12 years old! Seven seconds in heaven isn’t gonna cut it no more.

What I should have asked X was, if she found herself in the position of catching her significant other engaging in a round of tonsil-hockey with someone else, would her cool and “worldly” demeanour remain intact....or would she be singing Chris Brown’s “Deuces” with the rest of us.

Holla in the comments!

*Can you tell I’ve been reading my fair share of Victorian-period novels, lol.


In other news:

You know you’re getting old when...Nicki Minaj samples Annie Lennox’s “No More I Love You’s” and today’s youth look at you like, “Annie who”. I’ve tolerated Ms Minaj and her brightly coloured hair pieces since her debut...she can flow but up until her “Your Love” track (that I have on repeat), I couldn’t be bothered.

Calling all blackberry users: I’ve googled this particular problem and haven’t found a here it goes. How do I delete my BB voice notes, they used to disappear completely but now they don’t and the one’s that refuse to delete show a Jan 1st 1970 date, which is pretty random...



Happy Monday chickens, keep your eyes on the prize #GenericWordsOfEncouragement


V x

Friday, August 06, 2010

O_o words...okay, maybe a few

Open Letter to Montana Fishburne:

Dear Montana,

I don't get it.

Nobody, and i mean NOBODY wishes to be a porn star when they grow up. Ask any porn star out there and they're tale of how they got to where they are is one of poverty, misery, drug abuse, abusive relationships and more poverty.

Now a pretty girl like yourself from a well-off family proclaiming to the world that this line of work is your calling is about as easy to reconcile as....nothing, you're the first of your kind (and hopefully, the last).

I would like to think that this obvious cry of attention of yours is some way-ward form of rebellion and/or unresolved Daddy issues but baby girl, one thing is for sure, some things can't be un-done and this is one of them.

PS: In response to your much publicised, delusional quote:

"I hope it's not hurting [my dad].
It wasn't done to hurt him.
But I think it will take time and talking through the issues.
Eventually, I hope he will be proud of me.



In other news:

Inception..Deception...Contraception: Demmit, i am loving the names of flicks these days! I haven't caught this movie . I'm working through a serious movie backlog due to the World Cup taking precedence.

Random side note: I was having a discussion with a friend who claimed that Leonardo DiCaprio can't be taken seriously in "mannish" roles, as he will always have that boyish charm about it...unlike say Brad Pitt who is very pretty but still carries off mannish roles very well.

I don't agree, i think Leo has come into his fact, with his wolfish looks he reminds me of a young Jack Nicholson.

What say you?

V is for Vampire: Damn you Anne Rice and Stephanie Meyer for feeding my insatiable thirst for all vampire related literature, TV shows and flicks with the exception of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (that was truly a CRAP show, at best).

I'm besotted with these blood-sucking much so that i'm now hanging out in the "Young Adult" section of the bookstore *cringe*, stocking up on notable titles like the Blue Blood legacy by Melissa de la Cruz or Marked (House of Night) series by P.C. Cast & Kristin Cast.

Funny story: I had some contractors at my place fixing up some stuff and when it came time to write-up the invoice, one of the contractors asked me my name, except he really didn't me properly because he then started calling me "Vampire". Errrr, yah. I was confused. When i spelt it out for him, he then accused me of misleading him by pretending my name was Vampire.

No words.

Speaking of Anne Rice: She's turned the Christian world on its head by declaring she's done with the religious institution that is Christianity BUT is still all for Christ. As contradictory as it sounds, i get her point...but it seems a bit of a radical move. Hypocrisy and bigoted behaviour is ever present in all religions, when it comes down to it, it's all about the relationship you have between you and your maker.

As I said below, I quit being a Christian. I’m out. In the name of Christ, I
refuse to be anti-gay. I refuse to be anti-feminist. I refuse to be
anti-artificial birth control. I refuse to be anti-Democrat. I refuse to be
anti-secular humanism. I refuse to be anti-science. I refuse to be anti-life. In
the name of …Christ, I quit Christianity and being Christian. Amen.

Now whether one can remain spiritual without being religious is the big question for all... as is whether one can be Christian without going to church and partaking in Christian practices.

Lots of food for thought here! Holla in the comments.


Oooops, i've rambled on long enough. Chickens, have a great long weekend and keep safe!


V x

Tuesday, August 03, 2010

How to rock stunna shades in bed

It’s been just over two weeks and i believe I have successfully channelled “Anne Wintour”. My stunna shades and I are one. I don’t go anywhere without them. I wear them ALL the time. Name the place, i’ve probably worn them there.

In the mall.
In the bath.
In bed.
Heck, i even wore them in church....

Don’t think I haven’t noticed the looks of judgement. Oh yes, i’ve seen the inquisitive looks, the dismissive looks. I know what some of them are assuming.

I’m famous.
I’m a Diva.
I’m hungover.
I'm high.
I'm blind.

Trust me, I feel real stupid wearing them everywhere... but try to part me with my shades and I’ll have to hurt you...I’ll have to hurt you real bad.

You see, it will be exactly 19 days, today, that i had a cornea transplant in my left eye *pause for dramatic organ type music*.

It’s been a surreal experience, one that has taught me the following:

· Eyes work like boobs: They draw you in AND they work in pairs. So if there’s a problem with one, the other one will have sympathy pains.

· Those little pills pack a mighty punch: I now know why John Mayer waxes lyrical about sleeping pills. For a week after surgery, they were my close friends. Sleep would not come without them, and when it arrived after popping one of those bad boys back, so did the CRAZY, vivid dreams.

· Dr Darcy: Good looking practitioners’ facilitate speedy recovery in patients...according to me that is. My eye surgeon is the reincarnation of Mr Darcy from Pride of Prejudice. Given the fees he charges, he definitely has a Pemberly-esque mansion in the ‘burbs. Do we have any takers, ladies?

· Too many people have watched Jessica Alba’s movie “The Eye” *shudder*;

· Cabin Fever can be fatal: I nearly slit my wrists i was so bored. Lying in bed, in a dark room, unable to read anything, unable to watch anything, alone with my wasn’t pretty.

· I’m not ready for a baby: Waking up every 2hrs to take medication in the first week humbled me. New parents keep a similar timetable for longer periods of time and all I can think must be a labour of love.

· R-E-S-P-E-C-T : I have deep, resounding respect for the technological advancements in the medical field. Who thought this up? Who perfected it? Who were the guinea pigs (ouch)?

· Love Is: To be surrounded by love when you’re at your most vulnerable is a wonderful thing. It’s a blessed thing:

Love is The Almighty who heard my prayers and made sure everything went as I’d requested.
Love is my mother flying in to wait on me hand and foot without complaint or need for reciprocity.

Love is my father calling ALL the time to make sure I’m okay and remind me that physical distance ain’t no thing.

Love is my brother and sisters distracting me with their tales and stories, making me laugh when all i wanted to do is cry, fuss or feel sorry for myself.

Love is Him cutting a trip short to be by my side me and patiently listen to my irrational fears.

Love is my girls who kept tabs on me using all technology available to them.

Love is those unexpected calls from people you least expect.

Love is the stranger who signed themselves up for organ donation not knowing their selflessness would improve the quality of life of someone they would never know in their lifetime (i can't say thank you enough).

Thankfully, I need my stunnas less and less every day. Yesterday was my first day back at work and it took everything in me not to pull them out of my bag during a meeting and whip 'em on - the questioning looks would have been too much, lol.

Holla back and let me know what i've been missing on blogville & the world at large (names may be changed to protect the guilty :-))

Have a glorious Chewsday, chickens, and stay blessed.


V x