The PG21 rating for Language/Peril/Violence/Blasphemy still stands, and this post is not suitable for sensitive readers.
Confession # 13: So I went to a friend’s Bachelorette party a few years ago. I was initially a little shy because I didn’t know the majority of the people there. And then I discovered that there are some things in life that a girl just does NOT have to see…like a skinny white male rubbing baby oil all over his ribs. I say ribs because he hardly had anything resembling a six pack. I was rolling on the floor laughing. The only other time I laughed that much at someone was the first time I saw the Fast Forward chocolate advertisement on TV, the one where the midget on the scooter attacks and terrorizes those dudes in the car while they’re driving. Amazingly enough, no amount of laughing affected Skinny’s performance in any way and he was just working it, shaking his tail feather or should I say little earthworm. At least the neighbours didn’t call the cops; apparently they had to the last time.
Confession # 14: The one thing I collect on all my journeys, apart from the usual postcards and the clichéd souvenirs are little stones. I collect sand too, just a little from each place. I usually layer the different colours of sand that I collect from different places in decorative bottles. My collection is priceless and I love that I get to take a piece of any place I visit home with me. Besides, if someone had to break into our house for whatever reason, I doubt they’d want to steal a pile of stones…unfortunately, that kind of thinking is a result of living in SA. When I was in Palestine, it was no different. I remember scouring the grounds of Al-Aqsa after Fajr (somewhere in between getting lost in the little city’s walls in the dark and encountering armed forces) and I was looking for a particular stone. I always try to get the most authentic pieces, and not what someone may have put there in the last 50 years. So I usually dig a little in the ground or look in places that people don’t usually frequent. I went into the cave at the Dome of the Rock, where it is said that the Prophet SAW ascended to the Heavens on Mi’raj (Journey to the Heavens) and after offering a brief prayer in the form of Salaah, I went on a mission to find a stone in the cave. Everyone else there was solemn, basking in the auspiciousness of the place, eagerly engaged in prayer while I was climbing the walls like a fucking monkey, looking for a stone. I put my fingers in the crevices of the rocks, searching through dust and sand and I eventually managed to break of a few tiny pieces from a fragile rock. Someone told me I was going to hell. I said “I know”.
Confession # 15: I use to be an extra on a TV show a few years ago and was really chuffed when the director asked me and another older dude to do what I call a “filler-scene” together. We had to pretend that we were lecturers discussing a subject for a few seconds before they cut and went to the main actors. Maybe this is what prompted my stint in London because I took an acting class at a studio in Holborn. Tweets came for a lengthy visit and she joined too. I discovered that I have no hidden talents because I can’t act to save my life. See, there are a few pre-requisites to being a good actor and a set of criteria that you have to fulfill. For one, you have to be a good liar…no a professional liar. Great actors also have no qualms about making royal fools of themselves in front of an audience. I suck at both because I can’t keep a straight face, I’m too honest and even though I can laugh at myself for hours WITH other people, I’m too self-conscious to have everyone else laugh AT me. The class was fun though, and we did a lot of improvisations which was, for the most part, absolutely hilarious! Ironically, the only part I played brilliantly, according to our Coach who happened to be an actor himself, was that of a juvenile delinquent Prisoner.
Confession # 16: At one point, one of my flat mates was a difficult Polish chick, Karolina. She was temperamental and a spoilt ex-model who was very particular about everything. I was standing in the kitchen once, looking for some salt for my pasta and found some in her cupboard along with a packet of some very expensive mixed nuts, a gift from her Albanian boyfriend. I was hungry ok, that’s my defense, and the pasta was going to take at least another 10 minutes! So I figured, that she wouldn’t mind if I had a handful…but one handful soon became 5, also not my fault because damn cashews are addictive. I felt terrible, and knew she was going to have a bitch-fit if she found out. So I ran to the closest Lidl about 300 meters away, and bought a few packets of nuts, ran home and mixed them up, re-sealed her packet as neatly as possible and voila, the perfect cover-up. I did tell her about it a few weeks later, when we were having one of our ritual monthly Girls Night In and she was drunk out of her mind. She just laughed it off.
Confession # 17: Over time, I moved house and got my own place. The only snag was that my new anally retentive neighbour decided to get a boyfriend. People live freakishly close to one another in London and let me say, Sunday mornings were never the same again. They would go at it like bunnies. Now I don’t care what people do in the privacy of their own homes, but that’s just it, it’s suppose to be private! The first time it happened, I was K-O’d…in a deep sleep because I spent the previous day walking around Brighton and was exhausted. But I awoke to what I initially thought was a ghost. But then it occurred to me that ghosts don’t moan. And geez were they loud. The entire street could hear them and B-Road was an awfully long road. I blocked my ears, mortified…then I started laughing hysterically. Needless to say, I spent the next few Saturday nights at Angie’s place in Leytonstone. And thankfully, it stopped after some of the other neighbours started complaining.
Confession # 18: We were at a family friends wedding, Tweets, Shana and I, and Cuteboy was there because he was the brides brother’s best friend. My cousin Jazz was there too and Cuteboy was clearly interested in her because she was the only “foreigner” in a land where he knew everyone. So he offered to take her to the bride’s room/house after the reception when everyone left to go there. We really really wanted to drive with him, because he was so cool. So Shana, the bride’s cousin, told him that she need a lift because there was no place left in the car she was suppose to drive in. Tweets and I kinda pushed our way into his car too…along with some other chick…and soon everyone except Jazz was in the car with him. It was hilarious, we could tell he was annoyed. Almost nine years later, Jazz is married to someone else and Cuteboy is not so cute or cool anymore.
Confession # 19: After Angie moved to yonder in the East, I became friends with David who happened to be gay; which suited me just fine because the last thing I needed was another guy to hit on me and I felt safe with him. It’s amazing the amount of desperate people in London, Asian men in particular. I was so sick of “men” I can remember telling Mother on the phone that I wouldn’t mind if I didn’t see another man for the next two years (well the time has since lapsed:). They will accost you on every corner, wanting your number to “chat”. When I was with David, no one came up to me so I was relieved and we had a lot in common. We both loved going to various museums, art galleries, parks, historical sites etc. There was one night when David insisted that he wanted to give karaoke a try and there was a pub who was hosting a karaoke night. After he persisted for a week, I relented especially since he went to Fulham Palace with me when he didn’t really want to. So there we were completely sucking at Bon Jovi’s “Living on a Prayer” and No Doubt's "Don't Speak"…the crowd was incredibly supportive even though we were either laughing or screaming into our respective mics.
Confession # 20: Tweets, Birdy and I always dance around like freaks. I’m guessing that it’s not Tourette’s even though it always occurs somewhat unconsciously, like we don’t even realise we’re doing it and its involuntary on some level. So we’ll walk into shop 1 and dance to PCD’s “When I grow up”…leave, walk into shop 2, and dance to Will.I.Am’s “Heartbreaker” etc. We do that ALL the time. And when we’re not dancing in the streets as Mother calls it, we’re making kooky home videos of us singing after inhaling Helium and doing whacked dance moves. I must admit, we have a lot of fun. We definitely have some crazy genes.