In the immortal words of one Robert Smith, "Fuck me, Cape Town rocks!"
Or was that me?
It's the official middle of winter and here in the Republic of Zille, the weather is glorious. It's a balmy mid to high twenties (just the way we like 'em) degrees Celsius and there isn't even a breeze to speak of. Not to mention not a cloud in the sky. Like I said, glorious. See, it's not just my rose tinted shades...
Should probably haul my ass out of my comfy office chair and get on home soon, as that is where the cold beer lives. Tonight will be the fourth band rehearsal in five nights. It must be true what they say... we do it for the love of it. It certainly hasn't been of any financial or lifestyle reward quite yet. (That incident backstage with that groupie was too long ago to count...)
Moving along swiftly, it's that time again. The dreaded detox. Yes, yes I know. Blasphemy and sacrilege! How dare I utter such heinous treacheries? I am seriously thinking about taking a night off on Friday. Unfortunately tonight, tomorrow night's Martha Stewart extravaganza (my turn to cook for dinner club) and Saturday are out. Because on Saturday we have the triumphant return of the awe-inspiring Sleepers. Rose Thorn and I are looking into adult diapers for the occasion... Then it's time for Sunday braais, and fuelling up for something to rant about on Monster Moanday.
I am seriously crashing though. I have 4'o'clock brain melt, so I'll sign off for today. Have a great evening all...
NGDG: "[From Facebook] I'm not sure I trust people with less than 100 friends. Sure, you may 'know all' of them,. But that's hardly a newsfeed that'll keep you entertained even for a standard toilet break, leading inevitably to vandalism, graffiti and degeneracy."
Spread The Love. But Not Like Courtney. Please.