P-p-p-p-p-p-pandas p-p-p-p-ponderings on an icy afternoon

I have invested in fingerless gloves to enable me to carry on with my typing love affair this winter. I have managed to tear myself away from the happy furnace that is my bedroom, pulled out my VERY last season boots with a hole in the toe (they are my favourite don’t judge) and drag myself to the nearest coffee shop for rooibos cappuccinos.

Here are some of my frozen thoughts melting quick enough to get onto my laptop now that I have some caffeine in my system.

·         Beijing. Yes. I am putting on my hypothetical blue suede shoes (I would never be caught in real life blue suede) and boarding SAA flight whatever to China on Friday. I think I may pee myself.  I am making a trip to the Great Wall of China and when I set foot up on there I am going to yell through the mist  “quick Mushu, the Huns are here!!” and grab hold of a Chinese lantern and pretend to slide down the side of the wall just like Mulan did. And then I will probably be arrested and thrown into a slimy prison and have to hand over my Wonderbra in exchange for a cigarette.

·         It is strange that in all fairytales, the happy ending involves finding true love and marrying a prince. Not Mulan. She saved China, got a medal and brought honour to her family. I think this black sheep will stick with finding true love; I am not exactly equipped to save my country. Unless I marry Zuma. I’ll be his fifth wife and the wife that can change the course of the future. Oh but I’ll have to wear orange ethnic dresses by Amanda Laird Cherry or some shit. Never mind. I’ll stick to what I know and fashionably find a boyfriend rather.

·         Applying for jobs is a lot more intense than I thought. I had to write an entry piece on gambling to submit after an interview so I decided to take myself along to Monte Casino and be a keen observer. It got me thinking how life is exactly like a casino. Especially in a game of hearts. I always take a gamble on my heart, and I will always choose risk over regret. I am very drawn to the sexy seduction of the slot machines – I can never decide if I am playing them or if they are playing me. And in my opinion, this is just like love. Large payouts and dates tempt me through a dry spell and next thing I know, I am caught up in the most pleasurable frenzy of risk. Sometimes I win and get the guy, sometimes I loose. But I never regret. Except when I drink too many free drinks at the Roulette table. Then I do regret it the next day.

·         Apparently a woman who was trying to commit suicide flung herself off the Eiffel Tower, landed on a car and then married the man whose car she fell on. I’m just saying that this is the most fucked up but possible most romantic love story of our day and age. She literally fell in love. Or on love.

·         I think the sign of true love is if you have a sickly cute love story to tell your grandchildren one day. Thinking back on my past I am beginning to see a disheartening pattern that doesn’t bode well for my future story-telling. “So kids, this one time I was very drunk and I kissed this guy and he introduced me to this other guy I kissed who then introduced me to another guy I also kissed who introduced me to your father.” My “How I met your mother” is dismally short and blurry.

·         On the weekend my friend asked me to do a fashion shoot for her end of year range in town. Yes! At first I thought that this could be my break. It was finally here. Someone would discover me and I would be that shmodel who was found in Africa and signed at a matured fine wine age. However, trudging down the Newtown streets in fishnets, giggling like a child and attempting a pout with a nervous lip twitch, I realized the BIG reality of the situation – I am no model. Sure I had a cigarette in my mouth and was demanding wine so I had that part down, but compared to the other girls, I had eaten one too many cotton wool balls that day.  I think this winter I’ll stick with my MacDonald’s junior chicken burger with extra mayo meal. Large please. Oh and with extra MacFeast sauce. Thank you.

·         The medical term for brain freeze is “sphenopalatine ganglioneuralgia”. Try saying that with a mouthful of bubblegum ice cream.

So now that it is winter it is officially ok to wear fleece and wear cute, warm and fuzzy panda things. So here are some of the things on my shopping list that I am going to buy in China this weekend and i'll come back a real panda yay.

This panda is saying goodbye. Or rather 再见 Zàijiàn

 



Pre-weekend Panda ponderings

My alter ego is panda is still alive. She has not been swallowed by the Joburgian monster called stress. In actual fact, rather than being consumed, this panda has been consuming. Lindt Lindt Lindt Lindt Lindt! I fear that I haven’t had anything to say of late because I can’t talk with my mouth so full of chocolate. But nevertheless, here are a few of my pre-weekend thoughts that have come to light now that I can think clearly once the sugar cloud in my brain has subsided.

·         I don’t like Zooey Deschanel. Bite me. At first glance I can see the appeal. Thick waterfall fringe covering mysterious fairy pool eyes. Monotone voice that is seemingly emotionless but conceals apparent depth. Cute bows in hair – any girl who wears bows in her hair gives off that cute, ditsy, arty, freak in the bed vibe. Trail of men after her because she won’t run after them. Oh and she never cries. Guys dig that. At second glance all I see is a girl that can’t see out of her eyes, who has no vocal variety, who feels nothing and who mysteriously avoids commitment. Conclusion – she is a man.

·         I love the fact that my friends know me so well. And I hate it equally. When someone knows your expressions, different laughs, different smiles and social responses as well as they know their own, it is hard to put on a masquerade. And sometimes a masquerade is all your want.

·         On the other hand, when that same friend who knows you so well, picks you up before you even get chance to fall, you realize how grateful you are to have found the one person who can see into your soul because it is the other half of theirs.

·         Friday the 13^th. I’m flying under the radar so far. Please see Post-weekend Panda ponderings entry to see if I managed to avoid being a target.

·         I have officially declared that my dad is the strangest but most exceptional man that I have ever known. At 65, he embraced the family karaoke evening by lying down on stage singing “Chasing cars” by Snow Patrol re-enacting the music video, while my brother played and acoustic drum solo in the background. Can I highlight the fact that he was wearing Steve Maddon shoes and a Forever 21 shirt? He is a cool dad Regina.

·         I am rather obsessed with Greg Laswell “The one I love” at the moment. It is a long car drive, sun beating down on my head, what am I doing with my life, sing a long and feel eerily lost but at peace kind of song. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VagADNMyJuk

·         I plan to go watch Henry Ate at Tanz café tonight - http://www.henryate.com/. They are a nostalgic connection to my past when I used to listen to them with my first young love, Michael Erasmus, a brilliant artist and heart capturer with a pony tail and phenomal eyebrows.  I plan to pop open the wine, sit in solitude listening to the mind-blowingly sad song “Just” as I wallow in self pity and then try find someone to kiss.

·         I always wonder at the term “Rose tinted glasses.” I don’t like roses very much– I think a rose is a rather ominously sad flower. If a rose was a person I imagine her have raven hair, pale skin, red, wet lips and black eyes. A beautiful disaster. A rose scares me. Give me Barberton daisies. A daisy is the girl next door. I want daisy tinted glasses.

·         I now have my first follower on my bog – Carly Barnes – writer of the epically rad blog http://heelzandhangovers.blogspot.com/. I am a baby blogger and get inspiration from people like her J

4 coffee's down, looming wee pressing - literally pressing please no one push my stomach.

This panda is going to stop pondering and put on her peep toes to join the social Joburg nightlife parade.