“After” Parties After 40

I am lying flat on my back in bed on a voltaren drip being fed Red bull thru a tube, both my legs are in stirrups to keep down the swelling in my knees, hips and ankles, my head is pounding, my mouth is dry as Dubai, my heart is F1 racing! I’ve been buzzing for the nurse for an hour…only to realise that the f*k*g buzzer was my alarm clock which I forgot to turn off and it’s Sunday morning! It is all just a really good bad dream! Now don’t all rush to my aid all at once or call 10111, I don’t need an ambulance…yet…this was all self-inflicted. Last night I thought I was 18 again and partied until 5 am at the Cape Town International Jazz festival VIP “after” party and only got into bed at 6am, yes, this morning. So I will just lie here quietly, helpless and alone, and keep trying to walk away from the light…until someone brings me a caffe latte, extra strong and a *koesiester, and maybe a schedule 6 prescription drug…anything will do right now cos my evraythang hurts.

Meanwhile back at the ranch….the #CTIJ2014, I literally bumped into Erykah Badu aka #fatbellybella twice last night! Omg I hear you gasp but not so Omg if you were me…LMAO. I was coming back from the toilet, the VIP one on the 2nd floor of course, and as I’m walking down the passage, k*k cool, I nearly get mowed down, by #EB as she is being rushed onto the main stage by her entourage. She was close enough for us to hold hands and be besties forever but the t**f was too busy making a reality movie of herself with her hand-held selfie video camera – yes really! Oh well, paradise lost….or so I thought.

After a vodka and Play (That shit don’t play it kicks! WTF’s up with no Red Bull in VIP?!)…ok 2 vodka’s and 1 Play…I go to the invitation only VIP “After” party, cos that’s just how I roll…or rather, at 1.30am it’s more like a slow and overly-steady teeter. And it is packed with local and international music industry who’s who and my best friend Jakes 🙂 and his friend Ken (who looks like Barbie’s Ken). There we are looking k*k cool with all the k*k cool people, and I’m trying to convince Jakes to go with me to smoke 3 floors down, on the street, outside, in the cold, and Jakes doesn’t smoke, but he gently chooses this moment to first lecture me and tell me to quit smoking, such a be*t*ch! And I’m instructing the dewy-eyed 2-year old girl Ken is chatting up, to hold or sit on my chair until I come back from my smoke cos SistahE aint standing around at 2am in the morning *neck swaying finger wagging*! Okay she wasn’t 2 years old…but she probably had a Hello Kitty party not too long ago.

So eventually Jake relents and I turn around to leave and I turn tit-to-tit right into Erykah Badu! Who is AGAIN being rushed into the VIP section by her entourage. She *dirren evens look at me thru her *moerse Harry Potter glasses while our breasts briskly brushed against each other in the crowded room (I couldn’t add “smokey” cos there was no smoking allowed). Not even a smile on her *gevriet, she just sped along…our brief-bust-brushing moment….forever etched our my mammaries…

Poor Jakes treks with me for a smoke and once outside starts chatting to a woman leaning into a large pillar like a long lost lover, also wearing Harry Potter glasses (WTF? did I miss something Li Edelkoort said?). She is so pissed she can barely keep her eyes open, and I can tell that if I mention the words “marsala-steak-seafood-pizza with extra peri-peri and cheese” to her it’s going to be all over the pavement of the posh Cape Sun hotel! But sweet Jacoeb is being his usual charming self, making polite conversation with her but I can sense that dismissive, arrogant “why are you talking to me pleb, don’t u know who the f**k I am” tone in that famous voice of hers while she tries desperately to focus on him or me (not quite sure who) above her Harry Potter lenses. I’m not gonna piemp her but her surname is Twalo. *V-Tsek!!

And earlier I asked her bestie Unati, yes THAT Unathi for a photo and she was her usual “f*ck you i’m famous” patronizing self, and said in that fake, sickly-sweet whining voice of hers “not now honey…I’ll come back later”. And I thought to myself….yes you will t**f  you will come back later but it will be to ask ME for MY f**k**g autograph!


Back to reality…Saturday night, is shining, on my Sunday morning face…the paramedics bearing latte drips have not arrived, neither have my friends or family 😦 lol. I’ll lie here and say no to the light, I’ll try to hold on until they get here. Or maybe i’ll just have to get up and make myself coffee, drink 2 litres of water and have a toasted hot-cross bun with cheese instead.

Have a beautiful blessed Sunday and be thankful for your besties who go with you to smoke even tho they know you really should quit! Mwa!

*please ask someone from the Cape Flats, Cape Town to translate if you don’t understand my “special” words.


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