God, I feel (w)horrendous for not blogging as much as one should blog. Just be thankful for this blog because Holy Moses has a lot happened since the last.
I turned Twenty-whore, I mean Twenty-four. Can you facking believe it? Twenty-facking-four.
Birthday was epic. All 3 times I celebrated. I mean why wouldn’t it have been.
Had the family/close friend luncheon at the Sister’s on the Sunday before. My sister’s in-laws officially think I’m off my bloody rocker.
My gorgeous nieces even performed a specially rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’, Tan on the piano (after Debjer JUST teaching her the keys) and Me-Bee on the (inflatable) microphone. Those two are going to be famous. Maybe even M-Rob will join them when he’s older and they can form a band like the Jonas Bros or something. I’ll be their manager. I’ll be a gazzilionaire.
After lunch we resolved to learning the ‘All the Single ladies’ dance before we got absurbdly bored with that and proceeded to learn Miley Cyrus / Hannah Montana’s ‘Hoedown Throwdown’ with my eldest niece, Tan. And Homie, let me tell you did we “pop it, lock it, polka-dot it, countrify the hip-hop it.” We also “put your hawk in the sky, jump to the left, stick it, gliiiiide.”
Woke up on the morning of my birthday doing it all. I could take Miley on and whip her ass in a Hoedown-off. Fo sho! Still cant get the crap out my noggin. All in time, I assume.
Birthday itself was pretty average. Went to gym. Seriously, who goes to gym on their birthday?! And I had a Global Wraps chicken wrap for dinner. Lame as.
Onto the opskop that was my party. Goodness Gracious.
All types of Neon debauchery happened then. Firstly, Mona Lisa (gym buddy, the second, who I now torture myself by going to gym at 5am with over an above my avy sessions with GB the first) bought me the most insane false eyelashes with lumo orange ends.
I took the day off in preparation. Got my hair did. Got my make-up did. Wore my Neon Pink Lycra dress (a result of Debjer’s mama and my creative collab) and completely the look by teaming my yellow reflector belt with the pair of shoes I’d painted LUMO yellow . Looked like a schmodel, a possibly colour-blind one, but a schmodel nonetheless.
Good God. Debaucherous. And then some.
Even little Fishy joined the fray – wearing lumo pink tights with lumo yellow fishnets under his jean pant. Nogal. Even ‘fidgeted’ for us.
For those not familiar with ‘fidgeting’:
A completely whack dance style (can you even call it that?) that replicates someone having an fit of sorts. Arms and legs flinging and flying everywhere. Ankles rolling and lots of bouncing. Quite a sight. One doesn’t know whether to run and take cover or to gawk.
Most fidgeters take over an entire section of the dance floor. One wonders what an entire club of fidgeters would do when limited to a 50cm by 50cm block to dance in. God forbid them having to dance to a song they cannot fidget too.
Dinks bought a bottle of Jose at Cantina (where we started off) and from there it went downhill.
My overall count at the end of the night:
2 frozen margaritas at Cantina
13 shots of Tequilsh
2 hand grenades.
Attempts at a Storm (Debjer just assumed that cos I was boozed I’d drink it. Ha!) and the Chocolate Martini that came with a sparkler in it courtesy of the Cantina team (Creamy + Tequila doesn’t go well and I wasn’t about to tempt fate).
By 5am, when we were finally shepherded out of the club I was well broken. So boozed in fact that I (Shock! Horror!) even had been dancing with my shoes off for a little while. Anyone who knows me well enough will tell you I DO NOT take off my shoes in a club, not under any circumstances.
I was fun drunk though. Think it had to do with pacing myself well and having to turn down a couple tequilsh in favour of not being paralytic and ruining the night for myself and everyone else.
But balls did I feel re-volting the next day.
Not a night I will soon forget.
If you were there:
I loves you. You and all your luminosity. Thank you for being in my life. You rock socks.
I turned Twenty-whore, I mean Twenty-four. Can you facking believe it? Twenty-facking-four.
Birthday was epic. All 3 times I celebrated. I mean why wouldn’t it have been.
Had the family/close friend luncheon at the Sister’s on the Sunday before. My sister’s in-laws officially think I’m off my bloody rocker.
My gorgeous nieces even performed a specially rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’, Tan on the piano (after Debjer JUST teaching her the keys) and Me-Bee on the (inflatable) microphone. Those two are going to be famous. Maybe even M-Rob will join them when he’s older and they can form a band like the Jonas Bros or something. I’ll be their manager. I’ll be a gazzilionaire.
After lunch we resolved to learning the ‘All the Single ladies’ dance before we got absurbdly bored with that and proceeded to learn Miley Cyrus / Hannah Montana’s ‘Hoedown Throwdown’ with my eldest niece, Tan. And Homie, let me tell you did we “pop it, lock it, polka-dot it, countrify the hip-hop it.” We also “put your hawk in the sky, jump to the left, stick it, gliiiiide.”
Woke up on the morning of my birthday doing it all. I could take Miley on and whip her ass in a Hoedown-off. Fo sho! Still cant get the crap out my noggin. All in time, I assume.
Birthday itself was pretty average. Went to gym. Seriously, who goes to gym on their birthday?! And I had a Global Wraps chicken wrap for dinner. Lame as.
Onto the opskop that was my party. Goodness Gracious.
All types of Neon debauchery happened then. Firstly, Mona Lisa (gym buddy, the second, who I now torture myself by going to gym at 5am with over an above my avy sessions with GB the first) bought me the most insane false eyelashes with lumo orange ends.
I took the day off in preparation. Got my hair did. Got my make-up did. Wore my Neon Pink Lycra dress (a result of Debjer’s mama and my creative collab) and completely the look by teaming my yellow reflector belt with the pair of shoes I’d painted LUMO yellow . Looked like a schmodel, a possibly colour-blind one, but a schmodel nonetheless.
Good God. Debaucherous. And then some.
Even little Fishy joined the fray – wearing lumo pink tights with lumo yellow fishnets under his jean pant. Nogal. Even ‘fidgeted’ for us.
For those not familiar with ‘fidgeting’:
A completely whack dance style (can you even call it that?) that replicates someone having an fit of sorts. Arms and legs flinging and flying everywhere. Ankles rolling and lots of bouncing. Quite a sight. One doesn’t know whether to run and take cover or to gawk.
Most fidgeters take over an entire section of the dance floor. One wonders what an entire club of fidgeters would do when limited to a 50cm by 50cm block to dance in. God forbid them having to dance to a song they cannot fidget too.
Dinks bought a bottle of Jose at Cantina (where we started off) and from there it went downhill.
My overall count at the end of the night:
2 frozen margaritas at Cantina
13 shots of Tequilsh
2 hand grenades.
Attempts at a Storm (Debjer just assumed that cos I was boozed I’d drink it. Ha!) and the Chocolate Martini that came with a sparkler in it courtesy of the Cantina team (Creamy + Tequila doesn’t go well and I wasn’t about to tempt fate).
By 5am, when we were finally shepherded out of the club I was well broken. So boozed in fact that I (Shock! Horror!) even had been dancing with my shoes off for a little while. Anyone who knows me well enough will tell you I DO NOT take off my shoes in a club, not under any circumstances.
I was fun drunk though. Think it had to do with pacing myself well and having to turn down a couple tequilsh in favour of not being paralytic and ruining the night for myself and everyone else.
But balls did I feel re-volting the next day.
Not a night I will soon forget.
If you were there:
I loves you. You and all your luminosity. Thank you for being in my life. You rock socks.
If you were one of the unfortunate souls who stuffed me around and cancelled just before:
You missed out on an epic adventure. One that no one will ever be able to experience ever again. Sorry for you.
All Hail.. so you are a koeksuster? Im not sure if iv visited you in bloggy land, but im sure going to.... and before you get much bigger!
ReplyDeleteReally glad you popped over, not sure what drew you out?
As for Peas? Can only agree with you... amazing is all I will say..
She is a super star! But she is in good company... there are lots of good bloggers out there.. see my blogroll... i can personally tell and vouch that they are stars! and it makes blogging worthwhile! Imahine bloggin with 10 Peas
OK, ONE ABOVE WAS copied an pasted from the store. So, we discover a brave little party animal in bloggy land? One that braved to pop over to the store and comment! Thumbs up for you! Eureka! More into tequila than coffee an cake it seems.. :)
ReplyDeleteReally glad to get to hoe you.. sorry, know you..
Steve
Bwahahaha. Just, noticed that you (more than) often comment on Miss Peas' blog and was interest to see what you had to say. Thanks for the visit!
ReplyDeleteI am totally more into tequila than coffee and cake. Or you can have a Patron Cafe and have the best of both worlds! Patron is officially my new best friend. Tick :)
Happy Blogging!